Split Trails Ranch

"I thought you weren't going to give them funerals."

"Not them. We got family and friends to bury in the morning."

SPLIT TAILS RANCH part 7

The Battle Of The Bathhouse

Jessica and Sabrina rode along, smiling back at "Long Tom", their self appointed minder while their father was gone. He got his nickname because of his buffalo rifle, and his ability to hit targets at incredible distances. He had coached Jessica a lot, helping her with her rifle. He called her Sunshine because of her blond hair, and he called Sabrina Shadow because of her raven curls. "Besides," he'd grin, "If you saw Sunshine, you know she always has a Shadow."

They had bonded, girls raised by siblings who suddenly found themselves with loving parents. They loved their mother Claire, but they adored their father Zeke.

Jessica knew well how cruel the world could be, but Sabrina had led a pretty sheltered life, so Jess looked out for her. She was afraid of guns, but Jessica had gently taught her until she was a pretty decent shot with her pistol and deadly with her shotgun. It was nothing to see her make two shots, at birds flying in different directions, and drop them both.

Jessica was good with her pistol, but natural talent and patient instruction from her father and Tom made her deadly with her little rifle. Since they were both chambered in the same round, 32-20, she didn't have to carry separate ammunition.

They had once come upon a pack of wolves ringing a cow trying to defend her calf. They pulled their long guns and fired without hesitation, killing three and making the rest of the pack flee. Though they rode their ranch at will, there was always someone close by. Tom rode over to investigate the shooting, saw the carnage, and grinned. He skinned two, Sabrina's shotgun hade torn the other up too much, carefully tanned them, and gave them to the girls as a momento. They adorned the floor of their room.

After that, if they had a chance to bag some game for the dinner table, they did. Many a partridge ended up roasted at the Split Trails, and once they came upon some wild pigs, little animals weighing about thirty pounds. Sabrina got one and Jess nailed two. They gutted them on the spot, built a travois, and pulled them back to the ranch. Bill was from the South, and he showed them how to build a pit and roast them. The hands talked about that meal for months.

Even though they knew their father was concerned with their safety, they were only going a short ways, to bathe. They teased Tom as they rode, calling him Uncle Tommy. He'd grin indulgently while his eyes never stopped scanning the horizon. He saw the riders first, a large group leaving a clear dust trail. As they got closer, they split, the smaller part heading in thier direction.

"Girls!," he called out, galloping up to them. "We got riders comin'. There isn't enough time to get back to the house. I don't know what their intent is, so you ride for the bath house and fort up. I'm gonna go up on the ridge and look them over. If you hear shootin', especially my rifle, YOU STAY PUT!" Understand? Keep that door locked and don't open it for anyone but me or someone else from the ranch."

These were frontier girls, and they were galloping as soon as he stopped speaking. He charged up the ridge by the falls and picked a good position, getting out his glasses.

Jess and Sabrina slid their mounts to a stop, grabbing their saddle bags and weapons, and swatting them with their hats, knowing they wouldn't go far away.

Inside, they took stock. Jessica's rifle was fully loaded, fifteen rounds, her pistol was full, and she had twenty rounds in her belt loops. Sabrina had eight slugs and six birdshot shells for her little .410, her pistol, a .38, was fully loaded, and she also had twenty reloads.

They had a bag of jerky they were going to share with the hands, along with three pieces of cake and a flask of tea. They wouldn't go hungry. Both were scared to death, but Jessica tried to keep her spirits up.

"Don't you worry, Sis. We got Uncle Tommy watching out for us. If they get close,and if they mean us harm, you have to not hesitate. You have to shoot, and shoot to kill. Can you do it?"

Sabrina, her hands shaking and her voice unusually high, promised she would.

The riders came up, stopping thirty feet from the door. A voice called out. "Girls! We know you're in there. Your minder took one look at us and run off, so you're on your own. Come on out now, we ain't gonna hurt you none. We just want you to stay with us until your Daddy sees things our way."

Jessica called out with more confidence than she had. "Go away! We ain't goin' nowhere with the likes of you. Just the fact that you're talking to us will make our Daddy come after you. You really want to die over a couple of little girls?"

Another voice boomed out. "Little sinners! Come out. Your father must have spoiled you if you'd talk like that to your elders. Spare the rod and spoil the child, I always say. Maybe I'll give you a lesson or two. It will be a lot more if you don't git out here right this minute."

Jessica fainted. The voice was one she knew, her biological father, the man who beat her and her brothers constantly, the one who refused to let her address any man in the community, and told her once she came of age she would assume the position her mother held. He was running his hands over her at the time, to see if she was developing. She told her two closest brothers, and they waited until their father was passed out from the homemade wine he favored, took horses and anything they thought they might need, and fled. They rode all night, then turned their horses loose and mounted the spares they had brought.

They had managed to escape, and spent the next year in the Arizona wild country, rounding up wild cattle to raise the money for a spread of their own. Then they were cheated and abandoned, and what she considered her real father found her. She knew what would happen to her if he man outside the door knew it was her.

"Go Away!," she screamed when she woke, fear almost paralyzing her. The men looked at each other. "Shoot it up, boys, but aim high. We need them alive. Put a good scare into them."

"Yessir, Preacher," said one of the younger men, pulling his pistol and shooting into the roof.

Long Tom had been watching them through his glass, close enough to hear part of the shouting. When the young man pulled out his piece, he had already selected his target, one of the two leaders. When the man fired, Tom put the big ball through the chest of the leader, the force blowing him out of his saddle. He fired twice more, scoring a kill on one and blowing the arm off another.

Jessica and Sabrina took that as a signal to open fire. Sabrina, despite her nerves, emptied both barrels, headshots that found targets. One of the riders watched in amazement as the head of the man beside him disappeared, only to look down and see two stains starting to seep blood. He slid out of his saddle, dead before he hit the ground. Jessica kept firing while Sabrina reloaded, hitting a rider in the back as he turned to flee. His horse ran about fifty yards before he slid off, dangling by a stirrup as the horse galloped on. Sabrina brought her gun up and hit a horse in the hindquarters, dropping it. The man tumbled, then got up, obviously dazed. He never got a chance to clear his head as a ball from the buffalo rifle blew out the right side of his chest.

Jessica fired at the fleeing riders, sure she had scored at least one more hit. They stopped because they were no longer sure of their targets, and they had been taught not to waste ammunition. Sabrina had used three shells, rapidly breaking her gun down and replacing the spent round. Jessica had fired nine times, and was sure at least six were hits. She quickly fed fresh shells into the magazine. She knew if it got bad she wouldn't have time to reload, so she needed to keep it full for when the time came.

The riders regrouped under shelter of the trees. "Goddamnit, Preacher! That can't be little girls in there. You shore your eyes are as good as they used to be?"

The man got a quirt across the face that knocked him from the saddle. Preacher was sitting over him, his own shotgun pointed at him. "Never ever take the Lord's name in vain boy. Do it agin and I'll kill you. You hear me?"

The man nodded and mumbled, trying to stop the blood seeping through his bandana. Another rider spoke up. "If they are little girls, they're mighty tough little girls. We got seven dead, and Bob will prob'ly bleed out with his arm missin' like that. What kind of gun was that?

"Buffler, more'n'likely. Nasty things. That has to be a 45/70, maybe stronger. We cain't let him catch us out in the open again or they'll be more empty saddles."

Preacher looked at the man speaking. "You're right, Hawkins. Why don't you take your own big rifle and see if you can't beat him at his own game. If that don't work, take Jones and Herman and go get him."

Hawkins nodded, walking over and pulling his own buffalo rifle from the scabboard. His companions grabbed their Winchesters and disapeared into the woods.

Sabrina and Jessica huddled in the bathhouse, grateful their father had decided to make the concrete sides high to keep water from sloshing out. It was only eighteen inches, but it was perfect to shelter small girls. The walls were made of hand hewn oak boards, two and three inches thick and still a little green. It would take a shot at almost point blank range to get through. They ate a piece of cake and drank half the tea to keep their strength up. Jess kept reassuring her. "We got to hold out for a little while yet, Sis. Daddy will come."

The hours passed until it was late afternoon. The girls had decided to take naps, one sleeping, one watching, three hours each. Sabrina went to sleep instantly, but when Jess took a turn she couldn't turn her mind off and got little rest. Sabrina shook her gently. "I think they're coming."

She had sharp eyes, and had seen the figures flit through the shadows at the tree line. "Don't shoot until you're sure of your target. We don't have the ammo to last long. I'll take the East side, you take the West. Look to the other walls, make sure they don't creep up on us."

So they lay in wait, and watched. A man rose up twenty feet from the wall in front of Sabrina, lighting a torch. Her blast hit him high on the right, and he fell on the torch he'd dropped, screaming as his clothes caught on fire. The girls had agreed to not kill anybody they wounded unless they had to, hoping to tie a fighter up tending his wounded comrades.

Jess found her target, leading him a little until he stood up to throw the torch. her shot hit him in the center of his chest, blowing the lower part of his heart out. He dropped like a rock.

Discovered, the bullets flew, but the girls had already dropped down behind the concrete wall. A few bullets managed to find joints and thin spots and made it through, to be stopped by the other wall.

When it stopped they popped up to see them about to charge. Sabrina was looking for the leader, and when they charged, she let go with both barrels. In her haste to reload she'd put birdshot in, and the small pellets wreaked havoc with the charge. She had shot a little low, so many of the pellets lodged in legs and crotches. Screaming and cursing they limped away. Jessica waited until they were almost out of a range before loosing one shot, hitting the man in the neck, going right through his spinal cord. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Preacher, down more than half his crew, was beside himself with anger, and he prayed to his God for guidance. He could hear the gunfire from the ranch, the roar of the shotguns, and hoped they were faring better. After an hour in solitude, he came back with a decision.

"What we'll do is nothing. We won't get close enough for them to do any damage, and we'll keep shooting at random times, day and night. We'll wear 'em down, and then just walk in."

So for two days they waited. Jessica figured out what they were doing, and they set up a rotation, four hours on and four hours off. They finished the tea, but all they had to do was turn on a separate spout instead of the shower heads, and they had all the water they could use. They shared the last piece of cake the second day, then carefully rationed the jerky. Sabrina was getting a bit claustrophobic from being trapped in the twelve by twelve structure, so Jess distracted her by talking about the books they had recently read.

Preacher was getting frustrated. He sent three men down, under cover of darkness. They made it to the bath house, but Jessica was on guard, and heard them trying the latch. It was very strong, made so because of the women. She woke Sabrina by putting her hand over her mouth to keep her from talking, pointing at the door. She nodded and picked up her shotgun. She gently lay her rifle down and pulled her pistol. Easing forward, she raised the latch a little so it suddenly sprang free. They opened the door cautiously, and soon three heads peered in. Sabrina let go with the shotgun, and Jessica emptied her pistol. All three fell, two dead instantly. The other had been hit in the lower abdomen, gut shot, and he fell. Then he rose up on his knees and emptied his pistol into the bathhouse. Sabrina screamed and collapsed, and Jessica grabbed her pistol, which she'd laid out to use in case the shotgun didn't stop them, and put four .38 slugs in the center of his chest. He fell back without a sound.

With strength born of desperation, Jessica managed to push the body that blocked the door outside, slamming and latching it. Then she dropped the weapon and knelt beside Sabrina. She was hit high on the right side, the bullet going straight through. There was a lot of blood, and Jessica tore strips from her pantaloons, wadding it against the wounds and binding it tightly.

Sabrina lay gritting her teeth to keep from crying out while her tears flowed. Jassica held her head, brushing her hair back, whispering something like a mantra. "Daddy's coming, Daddy's coming. Hold on, Daddy's coming."

She slept fitfully, watching over Sabrina. She counted bullets as she did. Four shells for the shotgun, three buckshot and one birdshot. Five rounds in her rifle, and four in her revolver. Sabrina's .38 still had twenty rounds available. It would hold them off for a while, but if it got desperate all the shells in the world wouldn't help if they didn't have time to reload.

She realized suddenly, that she hadn't heard Tom's big gun boom since sometime early yesterday. A tear trickled down her cheek as she thought of the lean Southerner. She knew he would never abandon them. There could be only one reason why his guns went silent.

Tom called himself old but Jess would have bet he wasn't 50 yet. He showed her a picture once, of a woman and two small girls. They had been his family, lost in the shelling of Vicksburg. She thought that might be why he was so fond of them, in memory of his daughters, and knew he loved hearing them call him 'Uncle Tommy'. "The next one I plug will be for you, Uncle Tommy," she whispered. "I'll make sure you're buried proper in the family graveyard, and get you a tombstone with the words 'In loving memory of our Uncle."

That is, if I survive, she thought, as she raised up to scan the darkness. All seemed quiet and she dozed off. Sabrina woke her just after dawn, with her fingers to her lips. They could hear them rustling around outside.

Risking a quick peek, her heart fell as she saw they had used her exhaustion to their advantage, piling brush against the sides of the building. They were going to burn them out. Taking Sabrina's pistol, she fired four times, scoring two hits that were little better than flesh wounds, but it made them scream and dance. She dropped as bullets thudded against the planks, more getting through as they weakened. She spent the time as she was sheltering to relaod the pistol, laying it on the rim of the concrete besides hers. Sabrina had managed to pull her little shotgun into firing position, gamely trying not to pass out from the pain.

They could hear them rustling around, and Sabrina took a chance, sticking the barrel out of a gap they had opened just above the rim of the concrete, and loosing both barrels at the same time. There were some genuine screams then, and one man was hopping around, one leg gone just above the ankle, begging someone to pick his foot up. Jess had her rifle up, and put him out of his misery, fanning the area with the few remaining bullets she had, hitting one more in the elbow. Dropping the rifle, she grabbed the shotgun, stuffing the last two shells into the breech. She had fired her pistol twice, so she was down to two shells, and two more reloads in the .38.

Jess looked down, seeing Sabrina passed out again, looking almost angelic as she lay, and sighed. She knew they were coming, knew she couldn't hold them off. It was almost a certainty they would leave Sabrina laying, she seriously doubted she'd survive any type of ride. Making a decision, she sighed and ran her fingers through her sister's hair.

"I don't regret what I'm gonna do, Sis. For a brief time in my life I had everything I ever dreamed of. A father that loved me, a mother that loved me, and a little sister I adored. I consider myself the luckiest girl in the world. I wouldn't change a thing, even if I knew how it was going to end."

She heard them then, massing outside the bath house. "You in there! I'm tired of foolin' around. Get your asses out of there right this instant, or get the hiding of your life!"

"Too late, asshole! You already got one of us. Come on in here if you got the balls! Legends will turn up about what happened here. How two little girls shot your gang to doll rags while you hid, acting like the biggest bitch of all! You want me, here I am!"

Surprising them, she threw the door open, giving them both barrels, dropping it and pulling the pistols. Jess caught them flatfooted, totally unprepared. One went down with a slug in his neck, blood fountaining into the sky. The other barrel was a clean miss, but the pistols found marks. Jessica emptied the .38 first, dropping it and swithing the .32 to her right hand. She took careful aim at the Preacher, but his horse reared and she dropped it on him. Grinning, she put the pistol to her head.

...

"The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. God, we commend these souls to thee, may they rest in your bosom, and dwell in your House in love and harmony. And God, if you please, let us be thy instruments of justice against the monsters who did this. Amen."

Scholar had given an impassioned eulogy for the fallen, and at his last statement, the "Amen's" echoed through the grove. I stood stonefaced as Claire clung to me, weeping softly, as our friends and family tossed a handful of dirt on all the graves. I would grieve later, in private, after I had avenged their deaths. If I failed, I hoped to see them again.

We trooped down from the hillside, the somber procession wending it's way back to the house. Brad was beside me, the same tightlipped expression on his face. He too was trying to control his anger, but knew he would be beside his brother when the showdown came. He also knew neither he, or any of our friends and hands would rest until the whole gang lay dead. There would be no surrender, no negotiations, no reprieves. Justice would be swift, brutal, and end with the bodies of our enemies laying at their feet.

I spoke to the group as I stood on the porch. "Saddle up. Don't bring anything but your weapons and plenty of shells. We ride in an hour."

I went into the house, stopping to see Sabrina. She had regained consciousness late last night, and told of their battle. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she described how Jessica had stood over her, guns blazing. Then she had passed out again.