Chapter 6

It took the Sanchez gang most of the day to round up all of their horses. By that time, it was too late to chance the pass, so they put off until the next day a trip through the pass. I had gained another day, and I could already feel that my arm was healing nicely.

I was not going to let the night be wasted. My plan was to knock off as many of Sanchez's men as I could that night, since they would hardly be in a better place for me to get at them. I was kind of stuck, though, with what to do. They were now posting three guards at each site, so my chances of sneaking up on them were very small. Since they were waiting for an attack, actually expecting it, my chance at subtlety was gone, and I was going to have to act more overtly.

It looked to me that now was time for the use of the gun. It was after sundown, but the moon was very bright and they had a multitude of campfires going all over their camp. I figured to be able to get in at least a few shots with my Winchester. I was very good with a rifle up to 200 yards, so my carbine should do a more than adequate job if I could get within 100 yards. This looked possible, so I planned to give the idea a try.

I went out as before, but with my Winchester in place of my war club. The bandits would know very soon that they were not fighting Indians, so there was nothing to be gained by taking it with me. I left it hanging on my saddle horn.

I knew that my muzzle flash would give away my firing position, so I had to be prepared to move after each shot. That was not a significant problem, and I took that into consideration as I selected a firing position. I decided, for now, to ignore the guards and to go after the men near the campfires. My first firing position was between two rather large rocks, so I could duck away after my shot, even if I was being fired at by many rifles. They could only shoot at the place where they remembered a flare from my muzzle blast, and, believe me, that was not a reliable aiming point.

Another advantage I had was that I did not have to kill my victim. A severe wound would accomplish what I needed. I wanted to thin out the number of potential fighters, and I wanted to slow down their progress through the pass. A badly wounded man would accomplish both things better than a dead man, provided the bandits took their wounded with them. I was curious what they would do, and here was my chance to find out.

My first shot was into the back of a man sitting at a campfire and smoking a cigar. There was another man with him, and they were both looking away from me, so I might actually get off a second shot from this same location before anybody could see me well enough to shoot back. It was a little more difficult to line up the shot, but I had plenty of time to accomplish my purpose. I fired and ducked back, just in case there was an answering blast of rifle fire.

Nobody shot at me, so I chanced a look at the man that I had hoped to shoot. Apparently, I had hit him because he was lying on the ground. His friend was bent over to see what, if any, aid could be provided for his wounded companion. Damn, this was an opportunity too good to pass up! I lined up a shot at the concerned man and fired. All I had was a profile to shoot at, so the target was narrower than with the previous man. Nevertheless, I fired, and I heard a scream this time. Possibly I had killed the first man too quickly for him to shout, but I had only wounded the second man. I did not care—it was time for me to move!

As I was scurrying away, there was a fusillade of bullets striking the two rocks that I had been sheltering between. I knew that I needed to move to a new place. Some of those bullets had rattled through the slot between the boulders where I had hidden. That was too close for comfort!

I found a new firing position almost as good as the first one and began to look for a new target. This time, I saw four men standing around a campfire and talking vehemently with sometimes extreme gestures. Intent staring showed that one of the men was Sanchez, himself.

Dammit, I couldn't afford to pass up this opportunity. I rushed a bit in order to get in the shot while the man was still so exposed, but I was still determined to make my shot count. I fired, but bad luck finally showed its ugly head. Just as I fired at Sanchez's chest, one of the other men leaned over and was struck by the bullet intended for Sanchez. This man fell into the fire and extinguished it, cutting off all chance of getting another shot at Sanchez until later. I must have killed the man I hit, because he did not move out of the fire pit after he fell. I could make that out, but there was not enough light left for another shot.

I lost sight of Sanchez, but I did shoot at another man standing there. This was a by guess and by gosh shot, and I was not surprised when this one seemed to miss. The light was just too poor for another shot from that position; besides, it was time for me to move anyway.

I ran to another spot and looked around. I saw a group of four men, all with rifles, trying to look in every direction at once. This place seemed good enough, so I set up here. I picked the man who was most illuminated by the nearby fires and aimed at him. I fired and waited to see what would happen. That was almost a fatal error! I had done it again; I had not given enough credit to my enemy. One of the men I was staring at fired at me and only missed because his shot was a little bit high. Dammit, that was another one that was too close for comfort! OK, time to move on!

As much as I tried, I couldn't find a good shooting position. Oh, hell, it looked like it was time for me to quit for the night, so I went back to my camp and went to sleep.

The next morning, I got up with the sun, but the Mexican bandits had beaten me to the draw. They were already finished with their breakfast and headed toward the pass. I grabbed a quick, cold breakfast and gathered up my stuff. I wanted to be prepared if the bandits presented a good opportunity for me to shoot at them. To do that at best advantage, I needed to be ahead of them.

Some of them had already started through the pass, so I was already at a major disadvantage. There was only one safe passage through the pass for a horse, though a man on foot had many more choices. I decided that the thing for me to do was to leave my horse where he was and to travel on foot through the pass, but high enough on the wall that I would not be noticed. It was either that, or let the bandits go through the pass before I tried to follow them. The latter was not an option, so I prepared to follow them on foot.

I gathered up some food, my water canteen (which I filled), my Winchester, and all of my spare ammunition. This made a heavy load, but I was sure that I could still make better time than the men on horseback.

I only had to travel about 200 yards to find a perfect place for my first ambush. I was about 100 feet above the trail and hidden by some very large rocks. I was about even with the first man of the bandit gang, so I rushed a little bit in order to get in a shot at him before he moved too far down the trail. I had a choice of shooting at the man or at his horse, and I chose to shoot at the man. My Western heritage showed through at that point and I could not bring myself to kill a horse unnecessarily.

I leaned my Winchester against a rock to steady my aim. I fired at the man's back between his shoulder blades. My idea was that shooting down made it difficult to judge exactly where the bullet was going to land, so I picked a aiming point that would be completely suitable whether my bullet struck a little higher or little lower than my aiming point. Yes, as I expected, the bullet struck a little low, but it was still adequately aimed to chop the man's spine into two pieces. He let out a scream of pain and fell from his horse.