Ride Tall, Hang High Read online

  Chapter FOUR

  Willy Boy had put two of the riflemen on the west ridge and one on the east. Eagle had been placed down in the brush along the stream 50 feet up from the fake outlaw’s camp. He held a piece of string in each hand. The string stretched 30 feet down the creek to where they had tied two of the shotguns firmly onto a cottonwood tree.

  All four of the barrels were aimed at the small camp­site. It was left up to Eagle just when to pull the string that would set off the shotguns. One pull on each gun would fire one barrel, another pull would set off the second round from each deadly weapon.

  Eagle lay in the brush well out of the firing lines and watched the posse boil around near the camp in total confusion. The rifle rounds from both sides had sent two riders into panic and they galloped downstream.

  He saw four of the riders shot off their horses. Six of the mounted men started upstream.

  Eagle pulled one string in each hand and full loads of double-ought buck from each shotgun blasted toward the six riders. Three of them went off their saddles, screaming on the ground. Two of the other rider’s horses took massive hits from the .32 caliber sized double-ought buck and bellowed as they died.

  "Get out of here!" Eagle heard someone scream and the posse began falling back. Once out of the brush they rode like wild men down the little valley of death and away. The rifle fire followed them for half a mile, then tapered off.

  Eagle had been in bloody battles before, but nothing like this. He lifted up from his concealed spot and walked forward slowly, his six-gun cocked and ready.

  Someone moaned to the left. He looked that way and saw a man with his chest smashed in. The wounded man lifted one hand asking for help, then he died.

  There were five more dead from the posse, two dead horses, and four unclaimed mounts prancing around or chomping on fresh green grass along the water.

  Eagle waved his hands over his head and the other outlaws came down from the slopes.

  Willy Boy ran down, his rifle in both hands as he jumped and skidded and hurried into the death scene.

  "Gooooooddammmmm!" Willy screeched. "Look at this. This was an ambush I should become famous for. Hell, we could have killed every man, but we eased off on the rifle fire. Eagle, you only fired two of the shotgun barrels. You saving the other two?"

  The Professor stared at the bodies for a minute, then walked over and caught two of the horses and tied them to brush. Johnny Joe walked down the other two good horses and brought them back. Each saddle had a food sack.

  "Get the food off them other two dead horses," Willy

  Boy said. "We’ll take these four nags and see which ones we like. We’ll also pick up holsters for anybody who wants one, and a new six-gun. Take a look. Should be five or six rifles here. If they have any good ones we can use at least three more. "

  When the men had made their selection they were fully armed. They had one more Spencer repeater, one Henry repeater, and two Springfield single shots. They took all the ammunition they could find off the bodies and dead horses.

  "Gunner, look through their pockets and see if they got any cash money with them. Won’t do them no good and we got to buy some more food and camping gear, pots and pans to cook with.

  "Juan, get mounted up and go check on that posse. See how far they run and where they’re headed. We’ll meet you down at the end of the ridge in about half an hour. "

  When Juan left, they brought down their horses, got the two they had left as bait at the campsite, and got saddled up.

  Eagle kept looking at the five pound chunk of beef roasting over the fire. The beef still hung on the green stick Eagle had set it on almost an hour ago.

  "Go ahead, Eagle, bring the beef. No sense letting it go to waste. We’ll get away from these flies and we can have a chew on it. "

  They rode out five minutes later. Eagle was careful to make sure the campfire was well put out with dirt and water from the stream.

  Juan waited for them where the finger ridge melted into the grassland.

  "Looks like they’re headed back to town," Juan reported. "They stopped out about a half mile and bound up some gunshots, looked like. Then they kept on going. "

  "Think they’ll be back?" Willy Boy asked.

  "Damn right, they’ll be back," the Professor said. "Dunwoody is a tenacious bulldog, his reputation is on the line here. He’ll be back, but when he comes it will be with some dedicated professional gunmen who know what they’re doing. "

  "So we move," Willy Boy said making the instant decision. "The question is which way, into the Indian Territories, or west into the New Mexico Territory, the badlands?"

  "We need some camping gear," Juan said. "Blankets, some pots and a fry pan, knives and forks. ""Gunner how did you do back there?"

  Gunner rode up beside him and fished eleven dollars out of his pocket and handed it to Willy Boy.

  "That’s all they had?"

  Willy Boy nodded. "Thanks, Gunner. " He fingered the eleven dollars a minute, then held it up. "Gentlemen, we have a total of eleven dollars. We are without funds. Does anyone have an idea how to remedy this matter so we can continue our lives as free men?"

  The five looked at him.

  Willy Boy scowled. "I thought we had some talent here. Isn’t there an expert among us who knows how to make quick loans from banks?"

  The Professor grinned. "It would seem that you’re speaking about me, Willy Boy. Yes, we could make a withdrawal from a bank. But first we’d need a town. Where’s the closest one that isn’t Oak Park?"

  "Juan, you know about this area," Willy Boy said. "Ummmm, closest town to us would be Clayton, over

  the line in New Mexico, maybe fifteen miles. "

  Willy Boy nodded. "Let’s cut up that roast beef and take a chaw on it before it spoils," he said.

  They were still near the stream. Eagle washed off a large rock near the water, lay the roast beef slab on it and cut off slices with his hunting knife. The meat was cooked almost through with only a little redness in the middle.

  They held the still warm roast beef slices with their fingers and ate.

  "Damn good," Gunner said. They agreed. When the first slices were gone, Gunner and Juan went back for seconds. They all had a long drink of water and that reminded Willy Boy.

  "We’ll need canteens, too, maybe even a tent we could set up. Might as well have all the comforts since some bank is paying for it. "

  "Hats," Gunner said. "We don’t got no hats for nobody. "

  Willy Boy laughed. "Damned if you ain’t right. We’ll get everybody the same color hat, black. That way we’ll be able to spot each other easier. Now let’s ride. Take that posse at least two or three days to find us. By then we’ll be ready to camp or fight or go for one hell of a long ride. "

  They rode west the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon. By four they came in sight of a small town that Juan said was Clayton. It was a poor little town, with adobe buildings, a Catholic church, and surpris­ingly fair sized business district.

  "A lot of farmers and ranchers from around here come into Clayton for supplies," Juan told them. "I used to work up here for a while. "

  They camped a mile out of town, roasted more of the beef and buried potatoes in the dirt under the fire and found them cooked after a two hour fire had the beef roasted to a turn once you got through the charred outside.

  "Salt," Johnny Joe Williams said when he broke open his baked potato. "I usually want salt and pepper and lots of butter on a baked potato. " He laughed. "But today this one is just right, the way it is. "

  "This bank," Willy Boy said licking the roast off his fingers. "Just how do we go about knocking it over?" They all looked at the Professor.

  "Bankers are like anybody else," the Professor began. "They don’t like to get shot or knifed or even beaten up. So we accommodate them. We’ll go in the bank, one at a time, to get change for a bill. There’ll be a line when closing time comes. At three o’clock we lock the outside door, get our guns on
everyone left in the bank and the tellers and bank manager. After that, it’s a snap. I’ll show you boys how to do it tomorrow. I’ve done four banks that way and never fired a shot. "

  "Damn, how you do that?" Willy Boy asked. "Show you tomorrow. Now it’s time for my siesta. Wanta take a little nap before I go to bed. "

  They let the fire die down. There was no worry about the Oak Park sheriff yet. He would be two days back by the time he got started.

  Willy Boy watched each of the men. The Professor and Johnny Joe were solidly with him. Gunner was his slave for life. Eagle probably figured by now that he had found a gang that could help him get back at the army.

  Juan worried Willy Boy. The young Mexican had the most to lose. He had a wife and small son somewhere. Juan said they fled back to Mexico when he was arrested. She was probably with her parents down around Guadalupe, which was downriver from El Paso. But by now, Juan was painted with the same brush as the rest of them. He was a convicted felon, he had escaped from jail where two deputies were killed and he had participated in the slaughter of six men in a posse that chased them. Juan couldn’t afford to go back to Oak City. He was a fugitive and by now some printer had worked up a wanted sign on him.

  He had to stay with them or run for Mexico. Willy Boy decided that he’d work on Juan, show him he appreciated his help.

  As he lay there on the ground watching the sky, he figured that by the next night they would have blankets and camp gear and everything. If the robbery went right, nobody would know it happened until several hours later. That would give them time to buy what they needed and be out of town before anyone knew about the bank being gutted of all its cash.

  Willy Boy grinned. Damn! This was more fun than pulling up girls’ dresses. Although he could stand a little of that by now. Not tomorrow night, but soon. The next town after Clayton would do. They’d have money, and time, and there would be whores. There were always whores, everywhere.

  Hats, yes, they had to have hats, but at five dollars for a good one, they would have to wait until after their coffers were filled at the cooperating bank.

  Deeds Conover. Willy Boy lay with his head on his saddle, his feet to the fire, and wondered where the murderous bounty hunter was now? Willy Boy knew that he would find him. Once they shook this Oak Park posse from their trail, they would head into Kansas where he had heard that Deeds Conover usually worked. When he found the man there would be justice at last, but it would be a long and painful death for the man who shot down his father in cold blood without even asking who he was.

  Most bounty hunters went after men who were wanted dead or alive. It was a lot easier to get a sheriff to swear that a wanted man had been brought in dead over his horse, than it was to transport a live man 500 miles to collect the same sized reward.

  There would be no reward for Deeds Conover. He was wanted, slowly dead, by Willy Boy. And that was what Willy Boy was going to have, soon.

  The next morning they drifted into town by ones and twos, had breakfast with a dollar Willy Boy gave to each one. The biggest breakfast at the Clayton Cafe was only 35 cents. They walked the streets, picked out the places where they would leave their horses and listened one last time to the Professor.

  "This is the civilized way to rob a bank," he told them. "We all have six lengths of rawhide in our pockets to tie up people, and we each have two extra bandanas to gag them with.

  "If the bank has a back door, we slip out the back door and walk to where we’re going, bold as we can be. "

  "What if there ain’t no back door?" Johnny Joe asked.

  "Then we come out the front door one at a time, like the bank manager is letting us out after hours. Happens all the time. We lock the door when we leave and no one is the wiser. "

  "We don’t get to shoot anybody?" Willy Boy asked, disappointment all over his face.

  "Not unless you want me to shoot you. This is a quiet robbery. Remember, no shooting unless we have to because somebody else shoots first. "

  The Professor grinned. "I went into the bank a while ago. There is a back door. We’ll leave our horses along the hitching rail in twos around the general store. " Willy Boy picked it up. "So we can all come out, get some money, and Juan and I will buy the cooking gear and some more food. The rest of you get your own blankets, hats, canteens, anything else you need. You’ll have twenty dollars to spend. "

  There were no more questions. It was almost two- thirty. They walked back to Main Street and filtered along toward the bank. They had to get there at just the right time.

  At five minutes until three, the Professor went into the Clayton Savings Bank. There were two tellers and a bookkeeper and in a small office a man who might be the owner, president or manager.

  A teller looked up at the Professor.

  "I can help you now, sir. "

  The Professor had a dollar bill. "I really need change for this, can you help me? My son wants all nickels. An imposition, I realize, but I would appreciate it. " As he was at the cage, two more of the gang came in, then the last three.

  "Oh, dear, a rush, just at closing. Excuse me, I’ll lock the door so we don’t get anyone else. " He locked the front door, pulled down the blind, then Willy Boy grabbed him, his six-gun in his side.

  "Don’t even wiggle little bank man. This is a stickup!"

  Willy Boy grinned as he said it.

  The Professor vaulted over the waist high counter across the bank, his six-gun in hand and grabbed the bookkeeper and shoved him into the small office where a man had just reached in a drawer for a pistol.

  The Professor slammed the drawer against the banker’s fingers, breaking two of them.

  "Just relax, everyone," Willy Boy said. "This is a bank robbery and we don’t intend on killing anyone. So do what you’re told and we’ll all be alive to have supper. "