Chapter 8

Frank looked up from repairing the corral gate at the sounds of horses and a buckboard clattering into the yard. He put down his tools and walked over to help Jake out of the buckboard. Even though he had healed up enough to walk, Jake would never be able to ride a horse again. There was just too much damage to his leg muscle mass.

Jake struggled to dismount from the buckboard. He was simply too tired, and in too much pain, to manage without help. He was destined to suffer pain in his bad leg, for the remainder of his life. Frank reached up and held Jakes arm as the older man climbed down from the vehicle, around them the bounty hunters dismounted from their horses and then saw to their mounts.

"No luck again?"

"Nah! It's like those people evaporated," Jake said disgustedly as he shook his head. "I just wish I knowed how many people we was lookin' for. I know that there are the two women but I don't know who else was there helpin' them. I'm beginin' to think that I'm gonna hafta give it up. <Heavy sigh> After the boys see to their horses have them come in. I'll pay 'em off. I just don't understand where those Papists could be, but six months lookin' is enough."

"Your giving up then?" asked Frank hoping that the time of hate was over.

"Sorta ... I'm just getting too old to be traipsin' about the countryside, plus this leg is not getting any better. In fact on this last trip there were days that I couldn't walk at all for the pain. No, I'm just gonna off'r a reward and let the sheriff have wanted posters sent out."

"How are you going to do that when no one knows who actually shot you?" asked Frank knowing full well that Jake was a nightrider and was shot by one of the Irish women in self defense.

"We'll just go after the two women is all. Then when we get them we'll make them tell us who else was there," said Jake.

"Well, I guess it was too much to hope that the old man was going to let this drop," thought Frank sadly as he ruminated over all of the misery that the war had wrought. Now added to that were the twisted beliefs of the dead parson that included the Irish Catholics.

Once Frank had helped his boss into his chair at the big roll top desk Jake asked, "Now tell me how the new town is doing."

"Well, I managed to have the stage line open an office, and there's a new saloon opening, too. Oh, and the folks decided that 'Little River' was a good name for the town since there is that big creek here. Because it flows all year round, they thought that we could get more people to settle here if we used that name rather than 'Big Creek'. There's even talk of damming the creek up so that we can have a grain mill or saw mill."

"Good! Good!" said Jake with a huge smile.

He rubbed his hands together, gleefully. The new town was assuaging some of the guilt that the results his actions as a nightrider had caused.

The French party, oblivious to the fact that Joseph Raab and his gang were after them, traveled at a moderate pace. As they traveled Jean taught the women how to use the arsenal that was strategically placed in the carriage. At first they would practice in the evening, shooting at static targets that Jean placed at different distances from their shooting stand, next to the carriage. When they all became proficient with the shotguns Jean moved them on to rifles and then handguns. Everyday they practiced for several hours. Once he felt that they were qualified he had them shoot from the moving carriage with the shields up.

By the fourth week all of the party were fairly good marksmen.

They had been on the road for a month when they had their first real challenge. Six young braves, wanting to prove their manhood, attacked. However, they started the attack too soon. They were whooping and yelling their war cries from so far away that the French people were alerted to the attack in ample time. Jean yelled a warning to the family as he kicked the lever that activated the defensive shields. Like a well-oiled machine the family grabbed their shotguns and returned fire with 00 buckshot.

By the time that the shields deployed the band of Indians were within shotgun range. The braves were shocked by the deployment of the shields and slowed their attack for a minute giving the family just a tiny edge. The first volley from the French killed three Indians and two horses (after all shotguns are not precision weapons.) The second volley came so quickly that it caught the surviving members of the Indian band before they could turn and retreat, two more braves and one more horse were wounded. The one brave that remained unscathed rode off as fast as his horse would carry him.

After the second volley Jean got the carriage moving and when he felt that they were far enough away from the attack site he stopped and checked the horses. Not finding any injuries he then went back to the carriage and pulled out a big crank from the driver's box. If any negative thing could be said about the carriage's defensive system it would be that each metal panel had to be cranked down individually, the springs were so strong that it took four people to recharge the system. Because that left the women exhausted, Jean decided to camp for the night. The whole experience had taxed the family considerably.

Back on the trail Joseph Raab and his gang were steadily gaining on the French party. They were able to move fast because of the fact that they paced themselves, gallops were interspersed with walks and canters and rest breaks were taken so that the horses would not be exhausted. They were able to cover a great deal of ground quickly.

As the group moved after the French party Joseph would send scouts out ahead. It wasn't that the trail was hard to follow, the Frenchman's carriage was excessively heavy and left a clear trail. No, the scouts' purpose was to warn Joseph of impending contact. He wanted to know where the French were, so that he and his gang could attack from two directions. His plan was to divide his people into two groups, one would ride around and come at the travelers from the front and the other would be used to block any retreat.

One evening the scout came tearing back to the main group and reported that he had found the French party stopped for the night three miles ahead.

"They're stopped next to a small watering hole, Boss. There are four women and two men just like the livery man said," the scout reported breathlessly.

Joseph thought for a minute and then said, "Okay, boys it's been a long day. Let's make camp and rest up. We'll hit them in the morning before they hitch up the horses and get moving."

At that the men broke into small groups to do the mundane things of the trail, two men set up a rope corral while another man pulled grain from the packs to feed the animals. Joseph felt that the horses needed some grain each day to supplement the grazing that the animals did on their own. Each man brushed his own horse down and then turned the animal loose into the corral.

The next order of business was to feed the men and this gang had a fine trail cook with them whenever they traveled. Joseph believed in taking good care of his remuda and his men. Because the attack was to take place early the next morning the whole crew was asleep before sunset.

Joseph's simple plan of a quick attack fell apart from the first shot. First, one of his men fired too soon and second, the people ran into their carriage. That act, of itself, didn't bother Joseph but when the armor plating sprang up and the French returned fire with rifles wounding two of his men and killing another from a great distance the fast attack became a siege. Now that was nothing that he had thought was even remotely possible.

The lay of the land prevented Joseph's men from surrounding the carriage efficiently but still they were able to set up a siege line of sorts.

The battle was joined.

The main problem for Joseph and his men was that they could not get at the water. Though they had some casks of the needed liquid they would not last out a protracted siege. Joe was totally stymied!

"They gotta come out for water sometime soon," thought Joe, unaware that there was a huge tank of water in the bottom of the wagon.

By the third day the attackers were out of water and their plan was still stymied. Each assault cost them a man or two. At the end of the third day Joseph had lost half of his gang to severe wounds or death. In fact, of those that were wounded Joseph figured that over half would be dead by the next morning. It didn't matter if the attacks were made by day or night; the French simply blew them away with large bore rifles or shotguns.

By now Shaylee and Maeve had things down to a science. They switched off every other day. This day it was Maeve's turn to be the outrider. At about noon she galloped back to the wagon and told Shaylee of the gunfire off in the distance. Shaylee dismounted the wagon, hobbled the mules and then mounted her saddle horse Traveler—the two women kept their riding mounts always saddled as they traveled.

The women rode to the top of a hill near the battle and stopped just below the crest. They dismounted and cautiously crept up to the ridge. Hats off, the two women peered down on the siege.

"It looks to me like those men are robbers, plain and simple," said Shaylee. "Think you can hit their leader with that 'cannon' of yours?"

Maeve turned and stared at her sister then asked, "Are you trying to be funny or are you just being mean? Of course I can! I could do it with the Spencer but the Sharps is a guarantee."

Shaylee just smiled at her sister.

"You're developing a real twisted sense of humor aren't you?" asked a disgusted Maeve as she slid back down behind the ridge then stood and went to retrieve her 'cannon.'

She also brought a Spencer along for her sister, as well as several pouches of ammunition for each weapon, just in case. The two women then settled themselves along the ridge twenty feet apart and prepared for battle.

With a nod from Shaylee, Maeve took aim at Joseph's head. The man was moving about ordering his men to make a flanking attack on the French and Maeve had to lead him a bit.

Joseph's men were stunned as the head of their boss just exploded from the ballistic shock waves of the bullet. The report of the high-powered rifle didn't reach their ears for a full second. As the confused men looked about for a shooter a second and then a third man died.