Split Trails Ranch

He grinned, remembering how she bit the ear off a new member of his gang. He was a youngster, and Butch knew he'd end up dead somewhere pretty soon, he didn't have the sand or the smarts to make it. The only reason he tolerated him was he gave them good information on the locals. He heard a lot, being the only son of the biggest store owner in his town. And he had a pretty hard grudge against the girl. He was taunting her, telling her what he was going to do to her when the Preacher was through, and got a little too close. Even tied up, she lunged at him, locking down on his ear and not letting go. They pulled her off him and when they did she smiled, spitting his earlobe out. She looked him in the eye, blood dripping from her mouth. "Just like I thought. You taste like shit."

The boy screamed in pain, ranting until one of the older outlaws slapped him. "Shut the hell up, boy. Get Doc to look at that ear, and maybe he can stop the bleeding. Damn, she's more of a man right now than you'll ever be." The others laughed and he slunk off, looking for Doc. This wasn't going the way he firgured, not at all. Lucas thought it would be a grand adventure. he was tired of stocking shelves, listening to women whine and berate him over the price of their goods and his service. So he made contact with the outlaws, trading information to become part of the gang. He knew Butch Kramer thought he couldn't cut it, but he'd show them, by God!

When he found out about the drive, he waited until his parents were asleep, going into the store and taking a new rifle and a pair of Peacemakers his father had gotten in trade. He also took as much as he could carry and all the cash from the moneybox. He wished he could see the look on his father's face when he discovered it the next morning. Slipping into the livery stable, he took the two best horses. After all he was an outlaw now, he needed something to show for it.

Lucas swapped mounts, and was far away before the robbery was discovered. It didn't take the Marshall or his father long to figure out who did it, and the Marshall sighed. "I could let him slide on what he took from the store, Henry, but he stole two horses, and there ain't much I can do about that. If I catch him, he'll hang or go to prison for five years, depending on the Judge and his mood at the time. The good news is by now he's probably out of my jurisdiction and I won't go after him. The bad news is I have to send a wanted poster out with his description, along with a description of the hosses he stole and their brands. I hope for all our sakes he's a long ways away and won't come back."

Henry quietly tried to pay for the two horses, but one owner refused. "I raised that hoss from a colt, got him trained just right. Your boy has a good eye for horseflesh, I never rode a smarter or faster horse. You ain't got enought money to buy him, even if I was inclined to sell. Besides, if I sell him to you, then the boy gets away with it. I'm sorry mister, but if they catch him you can bet I'll be at his hanging."

Lucas wasn't exactly welcome in camp, most recognized him for a tenderfoot who could get them killed if they didn't watch him close. They tolerated him though, especially when they found out he was flush. They talked him into a few 'friendly' poker games, and he soon lost all his money and one horse. He thought they might have cheated him, but he was smart enough to not call them on it.

They wouldn't let him go on the raid to the ranch, making him stay with a skeleton crew and watch over the cattle and prisoners. Preacher had four women and eight children as hostages. Lucas wanted one of the women, but was surprised when he mentioned it.

"You want a woman, go to town and get you a whore. We're criminals, but most of us ain't that stupid. You touch one of those women and word gets out, we're through. People will tolerate a lot, but soil one of their women and hell will come aknockin'."

He grinned, thinking about the raid. He hoped instead of killing the women they brought them back, especially the little blond. He had a score to settle with that one. Maybe he could talk Butch into letting him have her.

The whole gang was shocked when the crew rode back in. Less than a third returned, and a lot of them were shot up. All they had to show for the whole thing was Jessica, and that's only because her pistol malfunctioned. Doc spent most of the day patching them up, and Butch nearly bit the stick in is mouth in two when Doc pulled the bullet out, pouring a liberal dose of whiskey over the wound before stitching it back up. "You're lucky it didn't get infected," he told Butch, looking over at an outlaw unconcious on another table. "Bert's a goner. He's got Gangrene, but he won't let us take his leg. Prob'ly wouldn't do no good now, it's gone too far. I got some heroin I picked up for toothaches and such. I'll most likely use that to make his passing bearable."

So Butch Kramer wasn't in the best of moods when the Army came calling. He knew he had no choice. As soon as he solved his problem witht he Army, he'd have to pull up stakes and move on. Not before he robbed the bank at Big Bend, though. He'd been a fool to trust Buck with his money. He knew he wouldn't cheat him, and it seemed safer to have the money in the bank than lying around the camp tempting his crew. He never thought he'd be stupid enough to get himself killed.

He had about thirty men in the stronghold. He knew that though there were a few more soldiers, he had superior firepower. Maybe he could just scare them off, or at least make them retreat long enough for them to get away. He had no doubt his men would fight. it was either that or get hung, especially after they found the hostages. Damn Preacher anyway!

Making a decision, he hailed the officer. "Give us an hour to get our affairs in order, and we'll leave. You can look around all you want then. Hell, you can have the place."

The lieutenant knew he was lying but it was worth a try. "All right. But if you're not coming out when the hour is up, we're coming in."

Butch grinned. "Not with what you got you ain't" he thought as he watched them ride away. Lucas was on the wall with him and thought it would be fun to hurry them along, so he put three shots from his Wichester right behind them, making the horses jump before they all broke into a gallop. Butch turned in a rage, intending to throw the youngster over the wall, when the man beside him flew off the catwalk, followed two seconds later by the boom of a buffalo rifle.

"You stupid little shit! You probably just got us all killed! All we had to do was pack everything up in the hour they'd given us, make a break for it, and you do this shit. No way in hell they'll let us go now!"

He backhanded Lucas so hard he did fall off the wall, only to be kicked by the first two outlaws that reached him. One pulled him up by his collar. "When we make a break for it, you're ridin' in front! Understand, asshole?"

Lucas quailed, knowing the first one through the gate would probably the first to die. He scrabbled until he was away from his tormentors before getting to his feet and running. Laughter followed him as he fled.

He almost stumbled on the hidden men before he stopped. Zeke Walters had already decided Lucas would be among the first to die.

...

Jessica sat in the little hut, two little girls snuggled to her. Preacher had kidnapped them for ransom, then in a fit of rage had killed her folks when they had no money. He was holding them, looking for grandparents to ransom them back. The other women had their own children and couldn't spare them much attention. They were six year old twins, little redhaired angels. Since she had gotten there, she had looked out for them, making sure they got their share of food even if she went hungry, cuddling them at night, whispering to them.

"Don't worry, angels. When my Daddy gets here, we're going to take you home with us. He'll be here soon, I guarantee it."

She had woken up draped across Sweetie, wondering why she wasn't dead. Then she remembered the click of her hammer, and nothing happening. She was about to drop it when a fist caught her on her cheek, and everything went black. The man riding beside her saw her awake and grinned.

"Welcome back, Princess. You sure are an ornery young'un, but you got sand. Now, I'm going to untie you so you can ride upright. Your hands will be tied back to the pommel, and I'll have a lead on your horse, but you'll be a lot more comfortable. You understand?"

She nodded, knowing it was useless to try getting away. He gently untied her and allowed her to sit up, while three men stood watch with guns drawn. His knots were tight but not unbearable. The man grinned at her again. "Just so you know Princess, I waren't with these boys when you were shootin' it out. I don't much believe in fightin' little girls. Besides, by the look of things, I'd probably be dead now if I did. Now behave, and we'll be there soon."

It had been a week, and she was starting to despair, until this morning. She saw the bushes move, and then the face of her Daddy, a finger to his lips. She couldn't help grinning. Besides Daddy coming for her, she knew something they didn't. Apparently too embarrassed to search a girl, they hadn't found the little two shot deringer she still carried in her vest pocket. Push come to shove, she would be able to create a little distraction when the shooting started.

Then she head the shots at the gate, and saw a man come flying off the wall. She also saw Kramer slap Lucas, knocking him off the wall as well. Kramer's voice boomed out.

"We're in for a fight, boys! Get Ready!"

There was a rush as men darted about, securing weapons and looking to the wall.

"What are we gonna do, boss?"

Kramer looked at the man and grinned. "I'm too sly an old fox to have only one hole. We're gonna give them something to think about, then we're gonna slip outta here and leave those soldier boys in the dust. Now, man those walls! We have to put on a show."

Jessica watched as most of the men went to the wall, while five or six went to a storage shed and started tearing it down. She was amazed to see the mouth of a tunnel. The walls of the canyon were only about twenty feet thick at that point, and Butch, seeing the wisdom of having an alternate escape route, hed three ex-miners take some helpers and burrow through it while most of his gang was off gathering cattle. Tall and wide enough for three riders abreast, the exit was out of sight of the entrance to the canyon, so all they had to do was ride in that direction and they were free.

The men were whooping and firing, keeping the soldiers occupied, when they heard the hollow BOOM! A few seconds later the shell landed twenty feet from the entrance, throwing dust and debris into the air.

"FUCK! THEY GOT A CANNON!"

An oldster, a veteran of the artillery laughed. "If that was a cannon there'd be a big hole where the gate used to be. It's a howitzer. I didn't even know they still had those things."

In truth, the troopers should never have had it. The Lieutenant was tasked with inventorying an old warehouse right after he arrived, and found it boxed up in a corner. It had probably sat there for a couple of decades. He was a transfer to the Calvary, and was an artilleryman at heart. With the commanders' permission, he pulled it out, cleaned it up, and ran a few test balls through it. When he was ordered out, he got authorization to bring it along, for shock value more than anything else.

The Lieutenant had a good spotter with him, watching through binoculars. "How close?"

"Twenty feet, sir, maybe that much to the left of the gate." They made a tiny adjustment and fired off another round. That one was only a few feet short but directly in front of the gate.

Both he and his spotter watched through binoculars. There was a large group on the fence, crouched for the most part behind the parapet. "Let's shake them up, Corporal. Grenade this time, if you please."

The grenade round was a tricky bit of business. You had to light the fuse on the grenade, then on the howitzer and hope it was shorter. If done properly, the grenade would be about ten feet in the air over the target when it exploded, showering those beneath with hot pieces of lead. Sometimes they hit the ground before they went off, and it was just as devastating. And sometimes, if the fuse wasn't right, it exploded uselessly halfway to the target. If things really went awry, if it exploded before it left the barrel, very bad news for the men tending the howitzer.

The Corporal loaded the howitzer, talking under his breath as he figured grenade fuse lenght for the distance traveled, hoping he got it right. He got it wrong. The grenade exploded at twenty feet, right in front of the gate. But because a lot of men were standing on the fifteen foot parapet, the results were staggering. Hot, .50 caliber grapeshot rained down on the men. Seven were blown off the catwalk, four of them dead before they hit the ground. Two were still on the wall, but bleeding profusely from a number of wounds. One bled out, there were just too many wounds to staunch the flow. The three still alive on the ground were in bad shape. One had been blinded, another had most of his arm blown off. The other had turned his head just as the round hit, and it went through his mouth, blowing his jaw practically off. He was trying to scream through his ruined mouth, his tongue hanging out of what was left, being held on by a small strip of muscle.

Preacher, until now avoiding the scene, walked out of his hut. He pulled a pistol and killed them all. Doc looked up in confusion. "Why did..."

"There's no place here for the weak and maimed. They would have died anyway, or had a miserable existence for the rest of their lives. Besides, they would have slowed us down."

Doc was beyond angry. "Don't you think that should have been their choice? What in God's name is wrong with you?"

Preacher had been in the hut smoking opium, a habit he'd acquired in San Francisco. Angered at the man's arrogance in invoking God, he started to raise his weapon again when a voice rang out.

"Go on, you coward! Shoot him! Never mind the fact that he's unarmed and trying to save lives. You scantimonious old bastard! Have you told them your God says it's all right to sleep with your daughter?"

Preacher whirled, almost leveling his gun at Jessica until he saw how many of Kramer's men were around. If he shot a child, especially a small girl, in cold blood, he wouldn't last long enough to put the pistol back into the holster. When he sheathed his weapon, the men went back to what they were doing, clearing the tunnel and packing as much as they could. Thinking he wouldn't be disturbed, he strode towards Jessica, unrolling the bullwhip he always carried at his side. Jessica saw him beat a horse to death with it once, over some minor thing the horse had done. She could vividly recall the horse's screams. He snapped it once as her eyes went wide. She screamed at the little girls to run, fumbling in her vest pocket.

Preacher laughed, raising his arm. "We'll see how mouthy you are after I'm finished, little bitch. Soon it will be 'yes sir' to anything I tell you. I look forward to breaking you." He raised the whip high while Jessica cringed, getting ready for the pain.

Just as he was about to strike a shotgun boomed, and the whip landed right in front of her, along with his hand and two inches of his forearm. Preacher screamed like a wounded animal and ran into the tunnel.

Split Tails Ranch Chapter 10

We were all shocked when the howitzer shell exploded, watching men tumble to the ground. Some lay still while some screamed in pain. It pleased me to see it because it helped a great deal in evening the odds. My opinion of the prissy little Lieutenant went up quite a bit. I knew we were going to have to strike soon before they tried to slip away into the tunnel. I was in no mood to chase them again. I wanted to end it here and now.

The only thing holding us back were the hostages. I was surprised to see so many, and my heart swelled with pride when I saw Jess sheparding two tiny little girls. My thoughts got darker as I wondered how many of them still had families to go home to, vowing to help them if I could.

A man walked out of a hut, striding over to the wounded men. I was shocked to see him calmly pull his weapon and shoot every one of them. He had on a tattered frock coat and a beat up top hat so I figured he was the one they called Preacher. Sonny let out a hiss and I looked over to see him raising his rifle. I was close enough to reach out and bat the barrel down, mouthing the words "not yet."

It took him a minute to regain control before he nodded. I turned just in time to hear Jess challenge him, and watched in horror as he pulled the whip from his belt, his intention clear. Just before he raised his hand another grenade hit the fence, making it shake. A few pieces went over the fence, but everyone was hunkered down so no one was hurt. Brad decided to deal us in, stepping out of the shade and cutting loose with his Colt revolving shotgun, half a second before I fired. The man with the whip suddenly had other priorities than beating little girls, like trying to find someone to pick up his hand. Screaming, blood spurting out of the stump, he ran into the tunnel. Sonny was firing as fast as he could work the lever, dusting the ground around him. We saw him stagger, so I figured he scored at least one hit.

Jessica was screaming at the hostages to lie down as she shoved the little girls into the dirt, trying to shield them with her body. Most understood and dropped like rocks, giving us a clear field of fire. Caught unawares the bandits had little chance against eight shotguns and six rifles. By the time they realized they were being attacked from behind, half of them were down.

I recognized Kramer from his description. The giant blond had sand, realizing in an instant what was happening and jumping down off the wall, taking a tumble when he hit. He jumped up and it was easy to see he had been hit because blood was dripping off his shoulder. We found out later it was a wound he picked up when he attacked the house and he had broken the stitches when he jumped. He rose up roaring his pistol blazing. Two of my men went down, one of them the lanky cowpoke from Tenessee. He rose back up, dropping the empty shotgun and palming his Colt.

When the first pistol went empty, Kramer dropped it and pulled another, trying to make the tunnel. he thought he'd made it until I stepped out of the shadows. My first blast hit him square in the crotch, knocking him down. Something must have hit a hip because he couldn't get back up. Bullets were flying but I let him think about what life would be like as a gelding confined to a wheelchair, then blew his head off. Powder smoke was obscuring vision, but it did part long enough for me to find Jess.

I saw the kid from the mercantile in Big Bend run out and grab Jessica by the hair. They struggled until I heard two little pops. He staggered back and down, and she was on him instantly, yanking his pistol out of his holster. Still kneeling she started picking targets and firing carefully.

It suddenly went quiet and I realized there was no one to shoot at anymore. Five or six had managed to make it to the tunnel and escape but it was no mind. We'd catch them soon enough.

One of the hostages had made the mistake of getting up to run and caught a bullet through the chest. She was dead in a matter of seconds. The rest were huddled, the two little girls clinging to Jessica's legs as she tracked the pistol back and forth, looking for one more target. I walked up slowly because she was clearly in shock. I took the pistol from her gently, tossing it on the ground.