Ralph Compton - Bullet for a Bad Man

‘‘I can give you several. You just said you don’t kill for the sake of killing. Then there are the two or three I will take with me, one of which will be you. And then there is Sassy.’’

Old Man Radler drummed his fingers on the ground. ‘‘If you don’t beat all, I don’t know what does.’’

Vance said, ‘‘I say we shoot him, Pa.’’

‘‘When I want your opinion, which I never do, I will ask for it.’’ Old Man Radler gazed into the gathering twilight. ‘‘Unless I am mistaken we are about to have company. There will be no more talk of killing unless I do the talking.’’

Hooves drummed and into view came three horses but only two riders, Galeno and Wagner. Galeno was leading the riderless animal by the reins.

Boone was on his feet before they got there, and he was not the only one. Old Man Radler hurried past him.

‘‘Where is she? Why bring her horse and not her?’’

‘‘The horse is all we found,’’ Wagner said.

‘‘We yelled and yelled for her, senor,’’ Galeno reported. ‘‘But she did not answer us.’’

‘‘Were there tracks?’’ Old Man Radler asked. ‘‘Anything that might give you a clue?’’

‘‘Not a sign, senor.’’

‘‘She wouldn’t go off and leave her horse,’’ Wagner said. ‘‘Something must have happened to her, and it wouldn’t surprise me if that something was Apaches.’’

No one tried to stop Boone from dashing to the palomino. No one tried to stop him as he gripped the saddle horn and swung up. ‘‘Where exactly did you find her horse?’’

‘‘Half a mile back in some boulders. I can show you if you want,’’ Wagner offered.

‘‘I want,’’ Boone said.

Old Man Radler had other ideas. ‘‘Hold on.’’ He ran up and seized hold of Wagner’s bridle. ‘‘No one goes anywhere without my say-so.’’

‘‘You better give it quick,’’ Boone said.

‘‘Don’t go off half-cocked. That might be what those red devils want. It could be they took her as bait. Apaches know how white men think. They know that when they steal our females we will move heaven and earth to get our womenfolk back.’’

Vance added, ‘‘There are too many of us and we are too well armed for the Apaches to jump us without losing a lot of warriors. So they took your girl-friend to draw some of us out.’’

‘‘It worked,’’ Boone said, and applied his spurs. Shouts were flung after him and Old Man Radler bawled for him to stop, but Boone was not about to draw rein this side of the grave. He lashed the palomino, calling on all the speed it possessed. Soon he was out of the canyon, galloping headlong. He was keenly aware that night was about to fall, and with it any hope he had of finding Sassy quickly.

‘‘Dear Lord, spare her,’’ Boone said. He rose in the stirrups, seeking the boulders Wagner mentioned. He vaguely recollected passing them with the herd.

From behind him the drumming of more hooves was added to those of the palomino. A glance showed four men coming to help. Drub was one, Wagner was another. The third was Skelman. Why Skelman should care about Sassy, Boone could not begin to guess. But the fourth rider was the biggest surprise; it was Old Man Radler.

The four were well back and had no chance of overtaking Boone before he reached the boulders. And there they were, some as wide as Conestogas and others big enough to conceal a cabin.

‘‘Sassy!’’ Boone shouted, reining in among them. ‘‘Sassy! Can you hear me?’’

The silence taunted him.

Boone came to the end of the boulders and was about to rein around to go back and search for tracks when a lithe form hurtled at him from out of the shadows. In pure instinct Boone’s hand flew to his ivory-handled Colt. It was up and out before he knew he had drawn, the click of the hammer a prelude to the blast to come.

‘‘Don’t shoot!’’ Sassy squealed. ‘‘It’s me!’’

Shock rooted Boone to his saddle. Then her hand was on his arm, and instantly he swung her up behind him. Her Spencer gouged his back. ‘‘I thought the Apaches had you.’’

‘‘I will explain after we are safe,’’ Sassy said in his ear. ‘‘Hurry. This may be our only chance to get away.’’

‘‘But your horse—’’

‘‘We are more important. For God’s sake fan the breeze before it is too late.’’

Boone did as she wanted. He was so happy she was safe that for a few minutes he drifted on a tide of pure relief. Then reality crashed down, as it always did. ‘‘Where are we going?’’

‘‘Anywhere so long as it is away from the Radlers.’’

As ideas went, hers smacked of panic. But Boone would like to be shed of the Radler gang too, so he knuckled down to riding. Her arm slid around his waist and held snug, and he grew warm all over.

Nightfall was upon them. The dark was their ally; it would cloak them from white and red alike.

Boone glanced over his shoulder. Old Man Radler and the other three were nowhere to be seen. He lashed his reins harder.

Half a mile they fled, with no sign of pursuit. Boone would have gone farther, but by then the palomino was winded. He hauled on the reins and they came to a sliding halt, dust rising from under its hooves.

‘‘Why did you stop?’’ Sassy anxiously asked. ‘‘They are still back there somewhere.’’

‘‘Somewhere but not here.’’ Boone twisted and her nose almost bumped his. ‘‘How did they get your horse?’’

‘‘I saw they had made camp so I hunkered in those boulders to wait for you,’’ Sassy said, her eyes dancing with a secret light. ‘‘When I heard someone coming I figured it was you and ran to see. But it was Wagner and Galeno. They were almost on top of me, but I ducked down and they went on by and found my horse. I stayed hid until they were gone, and here we are.’’

‘‘We need a horse for you,’’ Boone said. ‘‘We can’t go all the way to California on mine.’’

‘‘There is something else,’’ Sassy said.

‘‘If it is bad news I don’t want to hear it.’’

‘‘I think I saw an Apache earlier.’’

‘‘You think ?’’

‘‘It was a face, and it was watching me. But when I saw it the face disappeared and I did not see it again.’’ Sassy nervously licked her lips. ‘‘I am pretty sure it was an Apache.’’

‘‘From the frying pan into the fire.’’ Boone was not making a joke. Impulsively pulling her close, he glued his mouth to hers.

‘‘Goodness. What was that for?’’

‘‘It might be our last.’’

‘‘Not if I have anything to say about it.’’ And Sassy molded her lips to his and kept them there until he pushed her back. ‘‘You don’t like to kiss me now?’’

‘‘Your kisses are my heaven. But now is not the time.’’

‘‘Listen to you. We are not hitched yet and here you are, taking me for granted.’’

Boone thrust a hand over her mouth and whispered in her ear, ‘‘I heard something.’’

In deathly stillness they waited, the only sound the palomino’s heavy breathing.

After a while Sassy broke the brittle shell of their dread by whispering, ‘‘Whatever it was must be gone.’’

Boone nodded, and then because he was not sure she saw him, he said in her ear, ‘‘I wish we were anywhere but here. Apaches are ghosts and I can’t shoot a ghost.’’

‘‘That is silly talk. They are flesh and blood, the same as we are.’’

‘‘Maybe so. But they don’t die easy.’’

‘‘We can’t let them get their hands on us. If it comes to that, you must shoot me. Do I have your word?’’

‘‘I would rather shoot myself.’’

‘‘You can do that too. But first shoot me. I have heard what they do to white women. Promise me, Boone.’’