Luke Jensen, Bounty Hunter (10 page)

“If anybody ever deserved it, it's him,” Sandoval agreed.

The two men were silent for a few minutes. Luke didn't know what Sandoval was thinking, but the wheels of his own brain were turning rapidly as he tried to figure out some move they could make. Finally, he asked, “Almanzar had a dozen men, you said?”

“A dozen counting him.”

“Two of them are dead. That leaves ten. And I know at least a couple of the men I shot were hit bad enough that they wouldn't be any good in a fight. That brings the number down to eight, and some of them are injured.”

“That's still four to one odds,” Sandoval pointed out. “Plus they're armed and we're not. If you're thinking about trying to jump them when they take us out of here, I don't think we'd stand much of a chance.”

“How many able-bodied men are there in town?”

The blacksmith rubbed his jaw and frowned in thought. “Eighteen or twenty, I reckon, counting those two vaqueros and everybody over the age of fifteen or sixteen.”

“Probably not enough,” Luke said. “Not when they're unarmed and facing at least half a dozen rifles.”

“They might be able to overpower Almanzar's men eventually,” Sandoval said, “but some good men would get killed doing it.”

“If they wait, Almanzar's liable to kill them off one by one, anyway.”

The blacksmith's broad shoulders rose and fell in a shrug. “That's true, but when you're asking people to almost certainly die right now, as opposed to maybe dying later on . . .”

“I know. It's not a risk most of them would want to run.” Luke's voice hardened as he went on. “I'll be damned if I'm going to stand in front of a wall and just let those deserters shoot me, though.”

“Yeah, I feel the same way. What say we jump them as soon as we get a chance and make them fight to kill us?”

“That's what I—” Luke stopped in mid-sentence as he heard a key rattle in the lock. He forgot all about the aches and pains scattered throughout his body and came to his feet.

On the other side of the makeshift cell, Thomas Sandoval did the same as the door started to swing open.

Luke was ready to throw himself forward as soon as the door was open wide enough. He knew their captors would be prepared for trouble, but even so he thought there was a chance he might be able to get his hands on a rifle before he was cut down. If he did, that could change everything . . .

“Mr. Jensen!” a voice whispered urgently through the opening. “Mr. Jensen, are you in there?”

Luke had heard people described as being thunderstruck. That was a pretty good way to describe how he felt at that moment. He was as surprised as he'd been in a long time. “Hobie?”

A slender figure in a battered old hat pushed the door open the rest of the way. Hobie had found a serape somewhere and draped it around himself, hiding the work shirt and the suspenders he wore. He had his Henry rifle in his hands.

Luke held out a hand to stop Sandoval from attacking the young man.

“We've gotta hurry,” Hobie said. “I knocked out the fella standing guard in the store, but I don't know how long it'll be before he wakes up.”

Sandoval asked, “You know this young fella, Jensen?”

“I do. And I have to admit, right now I'm mighty glad to see him.”

A pleased grin flashed across Hobie's face. “See, I told you we ought to be partners. Come on.”

The three of them hurried out of the back room and into the general store.

Sandoval limped on his wounded leg. He didn't want to hold up the others. “Don't let me slow you down. If I can't keep up, you just go on without me.”

Luke didn't intend to do that. “Lean on me if you have to, Thomas. Nobody gets left behind.”

A beefy, middle-aged man with white hair and a mustache stood behind the counter in the store. He looked scared, probably because of the Rurale who was stretched out senseless on the floor in the business's main aisle. The man stared at Hobie. “I don't know who you are, young fella, but you're gonna get us all killed!”

Luke said harshly, “The only chance you have is to fight back, mister. Keep letting those renegades have their way and all it'll get you sooner or later is a bullet.”

“Tom, have you gone loco?” the storekeeper said to Sandoval. “We can't fight those Rurales!”

“Sorry, Lloyd, but if you won't fight, at least stay out of our way,” Sandoval snapped. “Jensen and I need guns.” He limped toward a case containing several rifles.

“You can't—” Lloyd stopped himself. With a sigh he went on. “Go ahead. Maybe you're right. Maybe this is the only chance we got.” He stood up straighter, his back stiffening. “Hell, I'll take one myself. Nothin' to lose, is there?”

“Nothing but our lives,” Luke said. “And those aren't worth a damned thing if we let animals like Almanzar and his men run roughshod over us.”

Lloyd opened the gun case and handed Winchesters to Luke and Sandoval, then took one down for himself. “Got plenty of ammunition behind the counter. Come on.”

He took a box of .44 shells off a shelf and opened it. The men gathered around the counter and fed ammunition through the rifles' loading gates until the weapons were full, then stuffed more shells into their pockets.

The Rurale started to stir and let out a little moan. Luke stepped over to him and kicked him in the head. It was a brutal thing to do, but he wasn't going to lose much sleep over anything that happened to the invaders. The man was still and silent again.

“It would probably be a good idea to tie and gag him and lock him in the back room while we have the chance,” Luke said. They weren't going to kill the prisoner out of hand, and that seemed merciful enough to him. “How did you manage to get the drop on him, Hobie?”

“I stole this serape off a clothesline behind somebody's house,” the young man explained. “When I came in here I had my head down so the guard couldn't see my face, and I kept my rifle hidden behind my leg until I was close enough to clout him with it.” A note of pride in his voice, he added, “I told you I'm tougher than I look, Mr. Jensen.”

“I'd have to say you're right about that,” Luke admitted. “You're sneaky, too. You've been following me ever since I left the Anderson ranch, haven't you? You just did a better job of it, that's all.”

“Well, I'll admit I thought I'd lost your trail a few times. But I stuck with it.”

Sandoval said, “I don't know what you hombres are talking about, but I'm glad you showed up when you did, young fella. We were in a pretty bad spot.”

“We still are, but at least the odds are better now.” Luke slapped a hand against the stock of the Winchester he held. “And this helps, too. Hobie, do you know where the rest of the Rurales are?”

“I saw some of them going into the cantina, but I don't know about the others.”

Luke thought about it for a moment and said, “It doesn't really matter. They're going to be coming to us pretty soon.”

“To fetch us for the firing squad,” Sandoval said with a grin.

“That's right. All we have to do is sit back and wait.”

Lloyd Halligan tied and gagged the unconscious Rurale as Luke had suggested, then went to the front of the store to keep watch.

Luke asked Hobie, “How did you know we needed help?”

“When I came in sight of the town, I thought I'd better stop and see if anything was going on before I just rode in. I've got a pair of field glasses in my saddlebags, so I used them to check the place out.”

“It appears that once again I didn't give you enough credit,” Luke said. “Go on.”

“Well, I saw some sort of ruckus in the street, and when I took a closer look through the glasses, I realized you were in the middle of it. I watched while they dragged you into the store here, along with this other fella.”

“Thomas Sandoval,” the blacksmith introduced himself.

“Hobie McCullough,” the young man said as they shook hands.

Luke realized it was the first time he had heard Hobie's last name.

“Anyway, I recognized the men you'd been fighting with as Rurales, and that really threw me for a loop because I was pretty sure I was still in New Mexico Territory.”

“They're deserters,” Luke said. “Outlaws, now, instead of just corrupt lawmen.”

“I didn't know what was going on,” Hobie said, “but I knew I didn't want to just ride in bold as brass. That seemed like a good way to get in trouble. So I decided to sneak into town.” Again, that note of pride entered his voice as he added, “I think I did a better job of it than last time.”

“Evidently,” Luke told him, smiling.

“I stayed out of sight and eavesdropped on some people talking at the livery stable. That helped me figure out you were in trouble and likely locked up here in the store's back room. Then I heard that you were gonna be executed at sundown. I couldn't let that happen.”

“Nobody would have blamed you if you'd just ridden away,” Luke said. “This wasn't your responsibility, and you were risking your life by going up against those Rurales.”

Hobie shrugged. “Maybe. But it seemed like the thing to do.”

“I really did underestimate you. But I won't again. I give you my word on that.”

“Were they really gonna stand you up in front of a firing squad?”

“They certainly were.” Luke's smile took on a grim cast. “We'll see how they like it when their would-be victims shoot back.”

From the front of the store, Lloyd called, “Almanzar's on his way with three of his men. The other three are rousting folks out of the buildings and lining them up in the street at gunpoint.”

“A play must have its audience, even if it's a captive one,” Luke murmured. “Almanzar wants everyone to see what he thinks is about to happen.”

“Once the lead starts to fly, those folks are going to be in danger,” Sandoval said. “We need to hit the Rurales as hard and fast as we can, so the fight won't go on long.”

“Surprise is our greatest ally.” Luke looked at Hobie. “Are you sure you're ready for this?”

Hobie's face was pale under its tan, but he nodded. “I won't let you down, Mr. Jensen.”

“After what you've already done today, I didn't think that you would. Let's go.” As the three men walked toward the front of the store to join Lloyd Halligan, Luke quickly gave some instructions. “I'll go out first. The rest of you come fast behind me and spread out. Aim for Almanzar and the men with him first, then the ones guarding the townspeople. That'll give the citizens a few seconds to run for cover, anyway.”

“Good luck,” Sandoval said.

“Lord help us,” Lloyd muttered.

Luke jerked the door open and stepped out onto the store's high porch that doubled as a loading dock. As he brought the Winchester to his shoulder in a smooth, swift, but unhurried movement, he saw Captain Almanzar stop in his tracks and stare at the building.

Shock made the Rurale officer's eyes widen. He shrieked something in Spanish and fumbled with the holstered pistol on his hip.

Luke fired.

He had drawn a bead on Almanzar's chest, but as he pressed the trigger and the sharp crack of the rifle filled the air, one of the Rurales lunged forward, trying to get a shot off. His shoulder struck Almanzar and knocked the smaller man aside. The .44 slug from Luke's rifle smashed into the man's body and twisted him around.

Luke bit back a curse. He'd hoped to kill Almanzar with his first shot. He worked the rifle's lever and fired again as more shots erupted from his three allies as they emerged from the store.

Luke's second shot punched into the belly of the man he had winged a moment earlier and dropped him to the ground. He tried to draw a bead on Almanzar, but the captain had retreated behind the other two men with him. He turned and ran.

Gunfire filled the street. A slug whipped past Luke's head as he fired again and saw a Rurale's head explode in a cloud of pink mist. He levered the Winchester and swung the barrel, tracking a man who'd bolted for cover. Luke pressed the trigger and felt the rifle kick against his shoulder. His bullet clipped the running man on the hip and spilled him off his feet.

Luke was about to finish off the fallen Rurale when one of La Farva's citizens, a middle-aged woman who was screaming at the top of her lungs, dashed in front of his target. With an effort, Luke held off on the trigger.

The Rurale used his rifle as a crutch and lunged awkwardly to his feet. He grabbed the woman from behind and dragged her in front of him as a shield. With his left arm around her throat, he lifted his rifle and fired it one-handed at the store. The bullet struck the porch to Luke's right, glanced off, and shattered the window behind him.

“Hunt some cover!” he called to the men with him. “Hobie, behind that rain barrel!”

Hobie leaped down the stairs at the end of the porch and crouched behind the rain barrel sitting there. Lloyd Halligan ducked back inside the store and started firing through the broken window. Sandoval leaped to the ground, but his wounded leg collapsed under him when he landed and dumped him. He rolled desperately to the side as slugs kicked up dust around him, coming up on hands and knees and scrambling behind the parked wagon Luke had noticed when he first rode into town.

Only a few hours had passed since then, Luke thought as he jumped off the porch and landed in the wagon's empty bed, although it seemed more like days. He dropped to one knee behind the seat and fired at the remaining Rurales, who kept blazing away as they retreated toward the building across the street.

Another man followed the example of the one who had grabbed the woman and snatched up a terrified boy to use as a hostage.

“Hold your fire!” Luke called to his friends. With the boy and the woman in danger, they had to stop shooting.

But then a man ran out of the nearby livery stable with a pitchfork in his hands. He lunged at the Rurale holding the kid and yelled, “Let that boy go!”

The citizens of La Farva had finally had enough. They were fighting back against the renegades who had invaded their town.

The Rurale turned at the shout, but didn't have a chance to defend himself. The liveryman plunged the sharp tines deep into his back. The Rurale screamed and twisted, trying unsuccessfully to arch away from the agonizing pain. His rifle roared. The shot hit the liveryman and knocked him backward.

The boy kicked loose, dropped to the ground, and streaked away. That left the wounded Rurale in the open, and a split second later he was blown to hell by four shots that were so close together they sounded like one huge blast. Luke, Hobie, Sandoval, and Lloyd Halligan had all drawn a bead him, and their deadly accurate rounds tore through him and dropped a quivering, bloody heap into the dirt.

The female hostage recovered from her hysteria and grabbed the barrel of her captor's rifle. Half mad with pain and anger, he clouted her on the side of the head with his free hand and knocked her away from him.

Realizing too late the mistake he had made, he turned and tried to run, but before he could take a step he was lifted off his feet by the slugs that smashed into him from the rifles held by Luke and Hobie.

One Rurale had made it to the building, but he backed out of the door even quicker than he went in, throwing his rifle aside and thrusting his hands into the air. An elderly townsman brandishing an ancient flintlock pistol followed him into the street, shouting, “You better keep your hands up, damn your hide! You didn't find this old pistol of mine 'cause I had it hid! It'll blow a hole in you just like it did your granddaddy at San Jacinto!”

“Keep him covered, old-timer!” Luke called from the wagon as he scanned the street, looking for more enemies. He counted quickly. Four gray-uniformed bodies sprawled in the street, plus the one who had surrendered to the old man. Luke didn't see any other threats.