Chapter 3

I was going through the pockets of the robbers when the town marshal showed up. “Howdy, Marshal Haskell. I see you’ve been busy, again.”

“Yes,” I replied. “These two galoots tried to rob the lady, here, and I just looking for all of her money they took. I was thinking of giving her whatever I find to make up for the aggravation she had from dealing with them.”

“That sounds like a good idea, to me. I’ll send fer the undertaker. He’ll take care of everythin’. Leave him a half-dollar to pay fer his trouble. That should do it.”

“OK. We’ll be on our way soon as I make sure the lady is all right.” I turned to the woman and said in my best hidalgo Spanish, “Dear Lady, I hope you will forgive me for making such a mess in your fine restaurant. Are you well, or is there something else I can do to help you.”

The poor woman was flustered, nobody ever talked that way to her, before. “Oh, no, senor, I am fine. I do appreciate the way you stopped those robbers. They would have taken all of my money, and I don’t know what I would have done, then.”

I bowed and turned to leave, but Ann pointed out that I had not yet payed for our dinner. I was embarrassed, but I managed to find the money in my pocket, and then we left. When we got out the door, Ann laughed and said, “You really flustered that poor woman. She never had anyone use such flowery language to her. She will never forget this day as long as she lives.”

I grinned and answered, “I try to be nice to everybody I meet. It helps if I ever have to come back in an official capacity. Look what it got me when I met you.” That broke Ann up, and we had to stop on the sidewalk until she finished laughing.

We walked around town for a while, then we went back to the hotel for our own private celebration of the Fourth of July.

The next morning after breakfast, I asked Ann what she wanted to do about living accommodations. I explained the special assignment I was on and immediately refused when she asked if she could come with me. She didn’t argue, but she did have a strange glint in her eye as we continued to talk. We compromised on her living in a boarding house in El Paso while I continued my search. If we went by horseback, it was going to take at least three or four weeks for us to get to El Paso, but Ann insisted that that was the way she wanted to travel. I had no strong feelings on the subject, so I did not object.

We checked out of the hotel and went to get our horses. Eddy had done his usual excellent job of guarding them, so we were ready to leave as soon as we picked up some provisions and restocked our ammunition. We did make a great find, though. The gun shop where we stopped for ammunition had a custom built revolver in .38-40 caliber. It was a top-break style and it was double action. I thought is was just the thing for Ann to complement her .38-40 Winchester, and the price was reasonable. We traded in her Colt for the new revolver and bought her a crossdraw holster rig for it.

Once she was properly fitted out for traveling, I swear that only I could tell that she was a woman and not a man. That should save us some trouble in our travels, especially since it meant that men would not try to proposition her for sex at every opportunity.

We rode out of Gilead with the proverbial “song in our hearts” as we headed in the direction of El Paso. Once we got well out of town, we stopped long enough for Ann to become familiar with her new gun. She was especially pleased with the double action of the trigger and hammer. She found that she could draw and fire much more quickly when she did not have to be concerned with cocking her pistol before she could fire it. Ann also found that she was much more comfortable with the crossdraw motion, so that was a help. It only took about half an hour of practice to become as accurate at 10 yards with her pistol as anybody needed to be. I was quite pleased with her ability with the pistol, and I was sure that she could be relied upon to defend herself in practically any circumstance.

The reloading speed of the top break over the loading gate of the Colt was just not comparable. With a little practice, you could reload a top break revolver in 10 seconds or less, while it could take over a minute to do it with a Colt, and more if a shell got hung up in the cylinder. That difference in time could mean your life or death, so it was not something to be ignored.

I already knew her courage, so I was not the least bit reluctant to have Ann back me up under any circumstances. When Eddy was factored in, we three could easily stand off up to 10 ordinary men, maybe even more. The trouble was, we got a chance to test that assumption the next day.

We were riding through a narrow cut between two tall hills, when Eddy reacted as he always does to the presence of Indians. We were in an ambush, and there was no place for us to go but straight ahead. I shouted to Ann to follow me as I bent over to provide as little target as I could; I knew that the Indians were not going to shoot my horse if they could avoid it. Ann and I raced down the trail while Eddy disappeared as only he could.

We had hardly started moving at our best speed when the shooting started. I called to Ann to ignore the bullets and simply to keep up with me. I did get a bullet to run along my back, causing considerable pain, but no serious damage. Other than that, no bullet came close enough to me to make any difference.

We soon came to a pile of rocks that would provide some shelter, so I cut into them with Ann right behind me. We dismounted and grabbed our rifles and extra ammunition. We also took our canteens of water and raced to find a firing position before the enemy could get to us.

Ann was upset that I had been shot, minor as it was. I would ask her to look at the wound after we took care of the ambushers. Luckily, she had not been hit during our mad gallop.

We found shooting positions among the rocks. We were able to find favorable positions close enough to each other to make communication easy, but separated enough to give us a better field of fire. I must say that I was glad to have a partner at this moment.

Our enemy, whom I was sure must be Navajos, didn’t know exactly where we were, so they were careful when they approached our location. Suddenly, there was a scream of pain, and several heads popped up to see what was going on. That was the opportunity we needed! Ann and I fired our Winchesters at the heads we saw less than 40 yards away. We scored three hits before the Indians realized what was going on and dropped back behind the sheltering rocks.

Obviously, that scream had been Eddy at work. One of the Indians must have seen him, because there was a lot of loud yells from their general location, followed by another scream of pain. At that point, I couldn’t help relaxing a bit. I knew that the Indians had seen Eddy at work and were about to run for the nearest shaman to protect them from the latest demon unleashed from hell. There was no question that Eddy was the epitome of psychological warfare—he fit perfectly into the Navajo mythology of their baleful spirit world. No shots were fired, because everybody knew that you could not kill a demon.

We had a half-hour wait before Eddy showed up, justifiably proud of himself. He had a little blood still smeared over the top of his head where he could not reach it with his tongue. He was very gracious when he allowed me to finish cleaning him up. Of course, I was very pointed in my praise of his efforts, since there was no doubt that he was the primary reason the Navajos had run off. I thanked him profusely, and Eddy accepted my thanks as graciously as a Great Dane is capable of. He told me when he thought that he had been thanked enough by sitting down and licking his balls. However, he did allow Ann to continue petting him a little longer before he walked out of reach.