Ralph Compton Whiskey River (33 page)

“No,” Stackler agreed, “and Indians don't wear boots. This looks like an ambush in the making. Let's follow the horse tracks a ways. If it's what I'm expecting, they'll ride south for a mile or two and then circle wide to the west, getting ahead of us.”

“This could be a hell of a walk,” said Estrello. “Let's get our horses.”

“Not yet,” Stackler said. “We'd leave tracks over theirs, and if they ride back this way, they'd know we're on to them. Why don't we leave the wagons where they are for a day? If there's an ambush being planned, we need to know where it is. These two varmints can't pull it off, but they can find a likely place where enough men with Winchesters can.”

Stackler and Estrello continued walking, following the trail, until Stackler's prediction proved accurate. The tracks of the two horses turned west.

“By God, Stackler, you called
that
one,” said Estrello. “We'll leave the wagons where they are, and some of us will trail that pair of coyotes.”

When Stackler and Estrello returned to camp, Estrello explained what they had found.

“Thank God for Ed's dog,” Amanda said. “He almost got Ed killed at first, and now he seems to be trying to redeem himself.”

After breakfast Estrello called the outfit together.

“We're layin' over here today,” said Estrello, “and some of us are goin' to follow these two varmints that was lookin' in on us last night. For a certainty, I want Stackler and his dog to go. Stackler, who do you want to ride with you?”

“Todd Keithley,” Stackler said.

“Then saddle up and ride,” said Estrello. “Avoid lettin' these varmints see you if you can, and don't follow right on their heels. They'll be ridin' back to report to somebody, and we don't want your tracks followin' theirs. Let them think they've got us where they want us.”

“Damn him,” Todd said when he and Ed had ridden away, “he thinks we can't follow a trail. A gent that's tracked Comanches can trail
anybody.”

“Let him think what he likes,” said Ed. “We're not doin' this to save his bacon, but to save our own. A well-laid ambush in Indian Territory could get us all killed. We'll make it on to the Washita, and that's what's botherin' me.”

Occasionally they dismounted and walked the mile or so back to the westbound trail, satisfying themselves their prey were still ahead of them.

“Looks like the rest of their bunch may be three or four days behind,” Ed said. “They've got to ride far enough ahead of the wagons for the rest of their outfit to catch up and get ahead of us.”

Well ahead of Stackler and Keithley, Upton and Trevino had ridden more than thirty miles before finding what they sought. An upthrust of rock—a stone shelf—stretching north and south and wagon ruts were evidence enough that the wagons had always circled the rough, rocky pinnacles to the south.

“By God, that's what we're lookin' for,” said Trevino. “The wagon road comes straight on, not cuttin' away to the south until the wagons and riders are in Winchester range. All we got to do is hole up behind them rocks and shoot like hell wouldn't have it. The only way they could bust up that ambush is for their outriders to ride north and south, comin' around the rocks and flankin' us in a crossfire.”

“If we don't cut down enough of 'em with the first volley,” Upton said, “they'll do exactly that. We'd better get back to Bowdre and get our bunch headed this way.”

When Stackler and Keithley returned to camp, they found Estrello awaiting a report. In silence Estrello listened as Stackler and Keithley revealed what they had learned.

“You were right, Stackler,” Estrello admitted. “First they wanted to know our location, so they'd know how far ahead of us to plan their ambush. Are they followin' wagons ruts, or ridin' somewhere to the north or south of our trail?”

“To the south, a mile or so,” said Keithley, “and then they turned west again. We didn't take our horses, so if they come back that way, they won't know we're onto them.”

“Estrello, you've been over the trail before,” Stackler said. “If you were planning an ambush, you must have some good ideas as to likely places.”

“Rocky Point, about thirty miles from here,” said Estrello. “It's near a mile long, from north to south, and impossible for a wagon to cross. Some rocks are head high. Once we get there, we'll go around it to the south. It's a near perfect place for an ambush.”

“Not if you don't get within rifle range of it,” Stackler said. “Anybody planning an ambush will have to assume you'll follow the wagon ruts that lead up to and around the rocks. But suppose, before you reach this Rocky Point—before you're within rifle range—you drive south a mile or two, and then after bypassing the ambush, turn west again?”

Estrello laughed. “That would frustrate the hell out of them. We'll do it.”

“Do you know of any other likely places for an ambush?” Keithley asked.

“Nothing the equal of Rocky Point,” said Estrello. “Taking us by surprise, a few men with Winchesters could gun us all down once we were within range. There's so many rocks—so much cover—our only defense would be for men to ride north and south, get behind the attackers and catch them in a crossfire.”

“That might be something to consider,” Keithley said, “once we know they're holed up at this Rocky Point. We can circle the rock formation, staying out of rifle range, but what will stop the same bunch from trying again? Next time, we may not be fortunate enough to know they're there.”

“That's an even better idea,” Estrello said. “When we're a day away from Rocky Point, we'll divide the outfit, with half riding north and half riding south. We'll circle wide and come up on that bunch of bushwhackers from behind. By God, we'll show 'em how the cow ate the cabbage. I'm obliged, Keithley and Stackler. That was a smart move.”

The gang had nothing to do for the rest of the day, except clean and oil their Colts and Winchesters. After Estrello had explained the proposed attack on the bushwhackers, most of the outlaws seemed to regard Stackler and Keithley with some respect.

“Oh, I hope it works out,” said Betsy.

“It will,” Bill assured her. “All we have to do is give this bunch time to get in position. It's the only sure means of surviving an ambush.”

“My God,” said Amanda, “how many more times will we have to fight?”

“At least twice,” Mark said. “Once at Rocky Point, and again when we reach the old camp on the Washita. But don't worry about Rocky Point. If Estrello knows what he's talking about, we'll win big time at Rocky Point.”

“Rocky Point seems so obvious,” said Amanda. “Suppose they set up an ambush somewhere else?”

“It's a chance we'll have to take,” Mark said. “Ed's goin' to take the lead with his wagon from here on to the Washita. He believes his dog will warn us of bushwhackers on the trail ahead before we get within rifle range.”

“Of all the years I've known Estrello,” said Amanda, “I've never seen him look with favor on anything or anybody except Ed's dog.”

“We owe old Arky plenty,” Mark said, “and I just hope Ed can teach him not to bark at the wrong time.”

 

Satisfied they had found the perfect site for an ambush, Upton and Trevino rode back the way they had come. It was suppertime when they reached Bowdre's camp. The outfit gathered around to hear their report, and the pair didn't disappoint them.

“It's a field of stone that runs a mile or more north and south,” said Trevino. “Wagon ruts come within just a few yards of it before turning south to go around it. There's so many rocks, you can set, squat, or stand.”

“How far from the Estrello camp?” Bowdre asked.

“We figured thirty miles,” said Trevino. “Somebody in their outfit's got a dog. He cut loose barking last night, and we had to hightail it.”

“Damn,” Bowdre said. “They'll see your tracks.”

“No,” said Upton. “We left the horses near a mile away and went in on foot. When we rode on, looking for a place for the ambush, we rode south a ways before riding west. We didn't follow the wagon ruts.”

Wilson Soules laughed. “We didn't know either of you was that smart.”

“Shut up, Soules,” said Bowdre. “It was the right thing to do. Tomorrow we ride.”

Lieutenant Wanz, Sergeant Waymont, and Corporal Tewksbury had just returned from Indian Territory and were reporting to Captain Ferguson.

“Sir,” said Lieutenant Wanz, “there must be three hundred Indians camped there at the south end of the Washita. Undoubtedly, it's where the smugglers will take the whiskey.”

“Then we may not have much time,” Captain Ferguson said. “If that friendly Kiowa was telling the truth, Estrello and his outfit are doomed, and there are some men who are on our side who may die with the rest.”

“Who are they, sir?” Lieutenant Wanz asked.

“I'm not at liberty to say,” said Ferguson. “I want you and two hundred soldiers there before the shooting starts. When you issue your challenge, my men will identify themselves and join you if they're still alive.”

“What about the Indians, sir?” Wanz asked.

“They're renegades,” said Captain Ferguson. “They get the same treatment as the outlaws. It may be a bloodbath, but there's no help for it. There are some good men with Estrello, and I promised them amnesty for any wrongdoing in exchange for their help in bringing the Estrello gang to justice. They made me a promise, and by the Eternal, I aim to see that they come out of this alive, if I can.”

“How many men, sir?” Sergeant Waymont asked.

“Only two of my choosing,” said Captain Ferguson, “but if there are others worthy of amnesty, they will have been told long before now. If you see some men break away from Estrello's ranks, cover them as best you can.”

“Sir,” said Corporal Tewksbury, “if we're permitted to know, how were you able to learn of the renegade Indians gathering and the arrival of the wagonloads of whiskey?”

“I didn't know for sure about the Indians,” Ferguson said, “until you and your men rode into the Territory. The whiskey smugglers made a big mistake in St. Louis. One of them murdered and robbed an illegal whiskey dealer, and his men pursued Estrello's four steamboats. One of Estrello's steamboats had a Gatling gun on the forward deck, and with it they managed to sink the pursuing steamboat. There were six survivors rescued by a commercial steamboat. The survivors talked, and Captain Hailey, commander of the outpost in St. Louis, telegraphed me that the whiskey was on its way.”

“My God, how long has this whiskey smuggling been going on, and us unable to stop it?” said Wanz. “I've heard that enlistments are down, and that soldiers are not held in high regard. This should help us.”

“I think so,” Ferguson said. “Offer them all a chance to surrender, Lieutenant, and be sure every man riding with you has a Henry repeating rifle.
⁵
If they choose to fight Indians, outlaws, or both—shoot to kill.”

The day after Upton and Trevino returned, Bowdre ordered the outfit to move out. But they didn't continue following the wagon ruts. Instead, they rode almost five miles to the south and then turned west.

“We can be there by noon,” Bowdre said, “and until this bushwhacking's been done, I don't want no fires. We'll be on cold rations. With the wind out of the west, smoke will travel a long ways.”

“No smoking, either,” said Upton, who didn't smoke.

“No smoking, no fires, no hell-raising of any kind,” Bowdre said.

Bowdre's outfit moved on, stopping only to rest the horses. The sun was well past noon high when Bowdre judged they had traveled considerably more than thirty miles.

“Ridin' north from here,” said Bowdre, “we ought to come in behind them rocks where we'll set up the ambush. We should be at least two days ahead of Estrello's outfit. All we got to do is load our guns and set behind them rocks until we hear the rattle of wagons.”

Estrello's outfit laying over an extra day allowed Bowdre's band to pass undetected and reach the ambush site. But that's where Bowdre's luck ran out. At breakfast, before taking the trail, Estrello had something to say.

“I've decided we ain't takin' the wagons down through the woods, missin' Rocky Point. If we don't do away with that bunch, they'll hound the hell out of us. We'll follow these old wagon tracks to within five miles of Rocky Point, and that's where we'll leave all the wagons. We'll divide the outfit, half of us ridin' south, the other half ridin' north. After we're past Rocky Point, and we know they're waitin' for us, both halves of our outfit can come together
behind
Rocky Point. We'll have them in a crossfire, without any cover.”