Chapter 5

As usual, the three of us went into town on Monday. Having been attacked twice, we were not bashful about taking all of our weapons with us, along with a large supply of ammunition. When we got to town, Martha went into the general store for the groceries, but Helen stayed outside to keep an eye on all of our guns. When it was all added together, we had a small fortune tied up in our armory in the wagon, and we could not afford to lose it, especially now that we were fighting for our lives. Helen sat in the driver's seat with a pistol displayed obviously in her hand. She was left alone.

Meanwhile, I went on another trip to the gunshop. I told the proprietor what I wanted in the way of shotguns. He had two in 12-gauge and one in 10-gauge. However, the barrels were too long. He said that he could cut them down to my specification of 20 inches today, but they would not be ready until late this afternoon. I told him to go ahead, and I would pick them up either this afternoon or tomorrow morning. Just to make sure that the guns did not disappear, I paid him for them at that time. While I was about it, I bought plenty of ammunition for the shotguns. As usual, I left everything at the gunshop to be picked up all at one time.

Before I left, I told the proprietor to be sure to tell Jake Holbein that I was now married to Helen Johnson, so he was going to have to kill me to get the ranch. I got a surprising reaction to that news: the gunsmith's face lit up as if in relief! Would he really be on my side if push came to shove against Jake Holbein? That was a revelation to me.

I found out later that Martha got the same reaction when she told the owner of the general store of my marriage to Helen. Hey, maybe things were looking up!

We decided to hang around Bloody Gulch until the guns were ready. The women found a shady spot to park the wagon and waited for me while I went back to see the gunsmith. I helped by polishing the gun muzzles after they were sawed off, and that sped up the preparation of the guns right smartly. I told the gunsmith to forget about the front sights on the guns, since I figured that the spread of the shot was going to make it totally unnecessary to have sights. He agreed that I was probably correct, and I left the gunshop in a happy mood.

We ate lunch in the hotel restaurant before we started home. About a mile out of town, we stopped long enough to try out the new shotguns. They performed as I had expected, and the women said that they could handle the recoil, considering the circumstances of what they would be shooting at.

We made it past the little grove of woods without interference, and that surprised me a little bit. Oh, well, I had long learned to be happy at every manifestation of good fortune. However, about two miles farther on, we had to pass an arroyo that made an excellent ambush point. Men could hide in the arroyo and blast at us as we rode past.

When we got close to the arroyo, I had the women drop down to the floor of the wagon, and Martha drove while sitting on the floor. Only her head and a little of her shoulders were visible over the sidewalls of the wagon, and even less than that would be visible to men standing in the arroyo. Helen was beside her with her shotgun ready to reply to hostile fire.

I dropped back and rode about 50 yards behind the wagon. If there was any shooting from the arroyo, I was going to dismount and run down the arroyo to fight the bastards. Well, it happened. Shots were fired as soon as the wagon drew even with the arroyo. The trouble was, all of the shots were fired at the mule pulling the wagon. I have no idea how many hit the poor beast, but there were enough to kill her. Martha had been driving fast to get past the arroyo, and the wagon very nearly ran over the mule's body before it came to a stop.

The women were bounced around quite a bit, but that did not make them lose their nerve. Helen fired as soon as the wagon came to a full stop, and it was only a few seconds before she was joined by Martha. They were both firing their new shotguns, and the galoots in the arroyo were startled practically out of their pants by the volume of fire they received from the wagon. Undoubtedly, they figured that the two women would be cowering in the wagon bed and crying as they waited for the shooting to stop. Well, they had picked the wrong women if that was what they expected!

As soon as the shooting started, I bailed off my horse, taking my shotgun with me. The gunsmith had fashioned a loop for me that I could use to hang the shotgun over the saddle horn, so I could grab it the moment that I needed it. I ran to the edge of the arroyo and slid down the side into the bottom of the ditch. I have never worn the heel height of the usual cowboy boot, so I had no trouble running toward the fight. In the process, I ran past seven picketed horses.

As with any arroyo, it curved back and forth and widened and narrowed, so it was relative safe to approach the ambushers even if they knew that I was in the arroyo. However, Helen and Martha were distracting them to the point that they paid no attention to me. The fools were still trying to shoot the women with .44 pistols and the women were firing back with the 12-gauge shotguns. Nobody had been hit, yet, but one man did have a scratch on his ear where a shotgun pellet had come too close.

It only took me less than a minute to reach a place in the arroyo where I had a shot at the ambushers. I could see two men, so I fired both barrels at them at the same time. That meant that there were 24 #00 buckshot flying down the arroyo at two very surprised men. Both men were hit, though none fatally at the moment. However, they were going to die from their wounds if I did not kill them before that.

I jumped back and reloaded in less than three seconds from loose shells I carried in a pouch on my belt. I leaned forward and fired again at the two wounded men, and this time I killed one of them. The other one fell to the ground with a shattered hip and leg. He was out of the fight, and I would kill him later, probably with a knife.

I reloaded again and moved farther down the arroyo. The other five men knew that I was there by then, and they were now ignoring the wagon and concentrating on me. Helen and Martha stopped shooting when they had no more targets, and I yelled to them that I was now engaging the ambushers.

I debated with myself for a moment whether or not to switch to my pistols, but I decided that the intimidation factor of the shotgun made it a good idea to stick with that weapon. I moved a bit farther down the arroyo and received a shot in my direction for my trouble. Well, I pretty well knew now where to find one of the men, so I concentrated on him. A little bit of reasoning said that he had to be hiding behind a slight projection in the left wall of the arroyo. I ventured a quick peek around the projection I was using as a shield and could not see the man; nevertheless, I was sure that he was still there.

A little subterfuge seemed to be in order. I fired one barrel at the projection in hope of making some of the dirt fall to the bottom of the arroyo. If I was lucky, the man would then be revealed and open to a shot from the other barrel. So, with the idea of nothing ventured-nothing gained, I fired one round. My God! The whole wall seemed to collapse, and there was the man fully exposed. Fortunately, I still had my wits about me and let off the other barrel. I was so close to the man that I thought that every one of the buckshot might hit him in the gut where I was aiming. Well, I do not know about that, but his front seem to explode with spattered blood, and he kind of oozed to the ground.

That produced a fusillade in my direction, but none of the bullets were even close. I am sure that the men were just pointing their guns in my general direction and shooting. It was just a waste of ammunition as far as I was concerned, and I ignored the effects of the wildly shot bullets.