The Gathering Ch. 04

The seven men, all that remained of the Simpson gang, were riding hard and their horses were tiring quickly. They'd been riding cross country all morning trying to put some distance between them and the posse that had followed them yesterday from Colorado Springs. If we don't find some fresh horses soon we'll be walkin, Bill Simpson thought. How the hell did that Marshall know we were gonna rob the bank? Hell, we might have talked our way out of it if Butler hadn't started shootin.

Our plan sure didn't go the way we thought, Simpson said to himself. We started with eleven men and we're down to seven and one of them is wounded; don't know if he can keep up. Might have to take his horse and leave him behind.

Simpson and his men pulled up at a small creek to give the horses a short rest. They hadn't been the best mounts to begin with and they were about done in. The only reason they'd lasted this long was the fact that they got a chance to rest last night. The gang had lost the posse last evening in the arroyos and washes south of Colorado Springs.

"We need to change horses," Charley Birch said. "These won't last the day."

"I know that Charley," Simpson replied with sarcasm. "We'll head for a ranch I know of, about three miles from here. Owned by an old man named Anderson; I worked for him a spell a couple of years ago. It's just him and his wife so we'll get horses from them and then head southwest toward Arizona."

"What if they won't sell us any horses?" Charley asked.

Simpson "I don't plan on buying. We'll take what we need. Let's get going. Don't want that posse pickin up our trail."

**********************

Oso heard riders coming fast and stepped out onto the porch with his big mug of morning coffee. Visitors weren't common, especially this early in the morning. Seven men pulled up in front of the ranch house; they rode in close to the front porch. One of them is hurt, Oso thought as he saw a man slumped over in the saddle.

"Morning," Oso said. "Something I can do for you? You got a man hurt there?"

All the men looked at the one in the middle; it was obvious that he was the leader. The man asked, "Where's Tom Anderson?"

"He and his missus moved to California about seven months ago. This is our place now. Can I help you gents?"

"We need some fresh horses," the man answered.

"Sorry, can't help ya. Don't have any animals for sale," Oso replied. "I can let you have some feed and water for your horses though."

Simpson rode his horse closer to the porch and Oso; he stopped at a little over ten feet away. "You don't understand," he said. "Wasn't talkin about buying, we're takin what we need." Simpson's hand went to the pistol at his hip.

Before he could get the gun clear, Oso threw his cup at the man and moved back toward the doorway. The cup was the one that Eleanor had used to feed Oso hot chocolate the first night that John Edwards had brought him home. It was a very heavy clay cup and it hit Simpson on the head spraying hot coffee all over him. Charley Birch had drawn his gun at the same time and fired at Oso, knocking the big man through the door back into the house.

"Charley make sure he's done for," Simpson ordered. "We'll check the corral and barn for horses." Simpson and the rest of the men turned toward the corral.

As they turned Birch said, "Okay Simpson. I'll see if there's money or anything we can use too."

Birch dismounted and with his pistol drawn slowly stepped onto the porch heading for the house. A shotgun blast rang out and Birch was hit in the chest, knocking him off the porch. He was dead before he hit the ground. The second shot from the scatter gun knocked another man off his horse; then a rifle shot finished him off.

Simpson and his men had gathered up the three stock horses in the corral but turned back toward the house and began firing at the doorway and the windows. The wounded man was knocked out of the saddle as rifle shots came quick and fast at the gang, kicking up dirt all around them. "Let's get the hell out of here," Simpson yelled. He and his three remaining men drove the stolen horses away. Several rifle shots followed them.

*******************

Dillon and Ethan had just come into the big clearing in front of the ranch house at midday. They were just inside the trees about three hundred yards away from the house. Dillon pulled up and motioned for Ethan to stop.

"Something's not right here," Dillon said almost to himself. He sensed that something wasn't the way it should be. "Ethan hang back here with the pack horses while I check this out," Dillon ordered. "If you hear shooting leave the pack animals and ride fast to Red and Josh for help."

"But Dillon I can......."

"No time to argue son. Please do as you're told." He looked with sympathy at the youngster. "I know you want to grow up but your Momma would have my hide if something happened to you."

"Yes sir," Ethan replied. He tied the pack horses to a nearby tree and waited. Dillon pulled his pistol and rode slowly toward the corral.

As Dillon got closer he saw two men on the ground near the corral. He stopped, dismounted, and checked the men; both were dead. Dillon walked slowly toward the house. He saw another dead man lying on the ground just off the porch. The man was sprawled on his back with blood covering his chest. Looks like a scattergun did that, Dillon thought.

"Oso," Dillon called. He stepped onto the porch and approached the door from the side. "Oso, amigo, it's Dillon.

He heard a moan and went into the house. Lying on the floor about ten feet inside the doorway was Oso. Dillon knelt at his friend's side. He saw blood on Oso's shoulder and on his right leg, just below the knee. Dillon grabbed a cushion off the sofa and put it under Oso's head. The big man opened his eyes and smiled.

"I didn't duck fast enough amigo," Oso said with a weak smile. "Can I have some water?"

"I'll get you some," Dillon replied. As he stood he went to the door and yelled, "Ethan come up." He went to the pump in the kitchen and got a cup of water for Oso. Dillon helped Oso to drink the water and then cut his shirt away and examined the wound. Looks like the bullet's still in there, he thought. He slit Oso's pant leg and saw another wound; this one looked like the bullet had just grazed the leg.

Ethan came into the house and saw Oso on the floor. His face went pale but he quickly came to his adopted brother's side. Oso smiled up at him and Ethan smiled back.

"Get some hot water off the stove and bring one of my extra shirts please." As Ethan stood to get the items Dillon added, "And bring the coal oil too." Then to Oso he said, "Don't worry amigo, we'll take care of you."

Oso smiled. "I broke the cup the Senora gave me. Hated to lose that cup."

"Who did this, what did they want?"

"They said they were gonna take our horses. I couldn't let them do that," Oso replied. "But they made off with three of the stock animals before I could run them off. I heard the one I knocked off the porch call the leader Simpson."

Dillon froze for a few seconds hearing that name. So they got away from the posse, he said to himself. They'll wish they'd let the posse catch them, he promised. Ethan returned with a wash pan of warm water, one of Dillon's shirts, and a small coal oil can. Dillon cut a piece from the shirt and washed the two wounds with warm water and then with coal oil.

"The coal oil will help fight infection until we can get him to a doctor," Dillon explained to Ethan as he tore strips from the shirt to make bandages. "Change your saddle to Byron and ride to Red's. Tell them what happened. Tell Red and Josh I need their help and ask Danni or Sarah to come tend to Oso."

"Yes sir."

"After you get done at Red's ride hard to town and get the doctor to come out here." Ethan nodded and stood to leave. "Ethan, rest Byron before you start back from town. No need to kill a good horse."

"Yes sir." Ethan hesitated and asked, "Will Oso be okay?"

"I think so. We've got the bleeding stopped but that bullet in his shoulder has to come out. That's why we need the doctor."

Ethan quickly changed his saddle to Byron and rode toward the Lazy L. He came up to the ranch house at a high gallop and jumped off his horse. Danni had heard him ride up and came out to see who was riding so hard.

"Ethan, what's wrong?"

"Oso's been shot. Dillon wants Josh and Red to help him go after the men that did it," Ethan explained. "He also wants you or Mrs. McCall to come and tend to Oso while I ride to get the doctor."

Maggie, Danni and Sarah's mother, was visiting her grandchildren; she lived on the other part of the ranch at the Maggie M. She and Sarah came out onto the porch in time to hear Ethan's story.

"Momma will you watch the children please?" Sarah asked. Maggie nodded and Sarah continued, "Josh is over to the S Bar S training some of Mr. Sander's horses; Red went with him. We'll send a hand to fetch them but we'll head over to your place now."

"Thank you Mrs. McCall," Ethan said as he mounted his horse. "I'm going to town to fetch the doctor. Hurry please, Oso's hurt bad." He turned Byron and put him at a high gallop headed for Fountain.

It took Danni and Sarah less than an hour to get to Winterborn. They called out and when Dillon answered they stepped into the house. Dillon had Oso covered with a quilt with his head propped up. He smiled grimly at the ladies. "I got most of the bleeding stopped and I've cleaned the wounds with soapy water and coal oil."

"Ethan said Oso has a bullet in his shoulder," Sarah said. "Let me have a look at it. If it's not too deep maybe we can get it out."

Dillon nodded and said to Oso, "You lucky cuss, you've got two pretty nurses here to look after you." Turning back to Sarah he asked, "Where's Josh and Red?"

Sarah explained where the men were and that she'd sent a rider to get them. Dillon nodded and stood up. He left the room and returned in a few minutes carrying a 12 gauge, double barrel, coach gun. Dillon went into the kitchen, filled two canteens from the hand pump, and started out the door. Danni and Sarah were tending to Oso and didn't notice him leave the house.

Shortly Dillon returned leading Buck. The scattergun was in a scabbard on one side of his saddle and his Winchester was on the other side. He also had a second pistol stuck in his belt. He stepped back into the house.

"Sarah, Danni, I'm going after Simpson and his gang. Take care of Oso for me please."

"Wait for Josh and Red to get here," Sarah suggested. "According to what Oso said, there's still four of them." She saw that Dillon's eyes had turned cold and wild looking; she'd seen that same look in Red's eyes when he faced trouble.

He shook his head no. "If I wait the trail will get cold and we could lose it. They're headed southwest, tell Josh and Red. I'll be following them." He turned and went out the door and mounted Buck. "C'mon Buck, we've got another battle to fight."

Dillon had decided to ride Buck for several reasons. Balin was younger and faster but Dillon didn't think this was going to be a race, more like a slow long track. Buck was battle trained; he would stand still while guns were being fired around him. He could step very quietly when need be and could sneak up on the enemy. But mostly Dillon had confidence that Buck could get the job done. They had a lot of experiences together.

He picked up Simpson's trail on as it crossed the south fork of Black Squirrel Creek. They're headed southwest to Arizona, he thought. Need to catch them before they hit that high chaparral; they can see for miles once they get to that. It'll be hard to sneak up on them. Dillon put Buck into a lope and followed the trail.

*******************

Damn, another plan gone to hell, Simpson said to himself. Who would have thought that one man could stop us cold? Now we're down to four men but we only got three fresh horses. Looks like someone's gonna get left behind. Once out of range of Oso and his rifle, they'd stopped and changed their saddles to the new horses. One man was left to ride one of the tired horses and he wasn't happy about it. They led two of the original horses with them, hoping that the animals could recover somewhat by not carrying the weight of a rider.

They rode until just before dusk and stopped, making a cold camp next to a small spring. Simpson told his men not to light a fire just in case someone was following them. The next morning they started southwest again. They stopped at midday to rest the horses and to eat.

For the next three days they followed the same routine. Ride hard during the day, make a cold camp at night, and stop to eat and rest the horses at midday. The evening of the third day, they made camp in a clearing among some scrub oaks. There was a full moon that evening. After resting for a couple of hours, Simpson told his men to saddle up. "This Comanche Moon gives enough light to see the trail, so we'll keep riding. We can be up on the mesa and into the high chaparral by tomorrow morning. We can see for a long way up there and see if anyone is following us."

"You'll never make the chaparral," a voice said out of the darkness.

"Who's that?" Simpson said with a little fear in his voice. All four men stood and stared into the darkness. Before they could reach for their guns, Dillon stepped into sight.

Buck had crept close to the camp without being heard. Dillon had dismounted leaving him ground tied and quietly made his way closer to the men. He stepped out from behind a stand of scrub oak and faced the four outlaws. Dillon held his scattergun in his right hand with his finger on the triggers and the butt braced against his hip. His left hand was on the handle of the pistol stuck into his belt.

For three days Dillon had trailed the men with murder in his heart. There was no compassion in him, no thought but to get revenge on those that had shot Oso and killed Ted Clark. As he started his quiet stalk of the men in camp he thought of Elizabeth; she had come into his life and caused him to look at things a little differently. Because of her, he wasn't the same totally cold hard man he'd been before. I'll give them a chance to surrender, he thought.

"Who are you?" Simpson questioned.

"Name's Gallagher and that was my ranch you raided."

"Well hell Mister. I'll pay you for the horses," Simpson said as he reached into his coat.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," Dillon ordered. "You raid my home, steal my horses, and shoot my brother and offer me money? Do you really think you can buy me off? Dillon stopped, trying to push down the rage he felt. "I've come for my horses and to take you back to the law."

"There's four of us Gallagher, you're outnumbered." Simpson pointed out. "I don't think we'll let you have those horses or take us back either. I don't hanker to do jail time in the territorial prison."

"I was hoping you'd say that," Dillon said. In spite of his years fighting in the War Between the States, he'd only felt the urge to kill someone once before. When he faced Wilson, Cassidy's hired gun and then went after Cassidy was the first time. This was the second.

"Either drop your gun belts or fill your hands you sons a bitches," Dillon ordered.

Simpson and his men hesitated for a few seconds and then went for their guns. Dillon watched in an almost detached manner as the men made their move. He was in the battle mode he'd learned during the war and things seemed to slow down. Leveling the shotgun, he fired both barrels and two of the men went down. Dillon dropped the scattergun drawing the pistol in his belt and the weapon in his holster. He moved to his left as he fired both weapons.

Dillon heard bullets hitting around him and felt something slam into his leg. He continued to trade gun fire with the two remaining men and suddenly there was silence in the clearing. Simpson and his three men were on the ground. Dillon started toward the men and felt a sharp burning pain in his leg. He saw blood seeping through his pants leg and realized he'd been hit. Dillon put both pistols away and tied his bandana tightly over the wound. Then he went to examine the men.

Two of the men had been killed by the shotgun blast; they were pretty well torn up. The third man had taken a bullet in his chest; he was dead too. Simpson was lying on his back with a wound in his belly. He stared up at Dillon and said with a frightened voice, "Help me."

Dillon tossed Simpson's gun away from him and squatted down. "You're gut shot Simpson. Nothing I can do for you." Before he could say anymore, Simpson shuddered and died. "It's better than you deserved," Dillon said.

Guess I better tend to my leg, Dillon said to himself as it began to throb with pain. He limped to Buck and led him into the clearing. Unpacking his saddle bags, Dillon gathered some wood and started a fire. He heated some water using a small coffee pot from his saddle bag. As the water heated, Dillon pulled the bodies to one side of the clearing.

He turned to Buck and said, "No need to have to stare at that scum while we're camped.

Dillon looked around and found an aloe plant in the clearing. When the water was hot he dropped his pants and examined his wound, I was lucky he thought. The bullet had hit him in the outside of his thigh and passed completely through his leg. First Dillon cleaned the wound with the hot water, pouring it over the holes in his leg.

"Damn that hurts," he groaned. He squeezed the spines of the aloe plant and used the thick molasses like sap as a salve and put it into both sides of the wound. He wrapped a spare bandana around the wound and pulled up his pants.

"Not much more I can do right now," he said to Buck. Dillon unsaddled Buck and finished making camp. He soon had coffee made and ate some beef jerky. He'd just poured a second cup of coffee when Buck raised his head and nickered at the darkness.

Dillon had settled back against his saddle and begun to calm down after the gun fight but was instantly alert again and pulled the pistol from his holster while struggling to his feet. He heard, "Hello the camp."

"C'mon in Red," he replied as he put his weapon away. "Been wondering when you'd get here."

Red and Josh walked into the circle of light thrown out by the fire leading Jasper and Diablo. They saw the four dead men at one side of the clearing and Dillon standing mostly on one leg.

"You hit bad?" Josh asked concerned for his friend.

"Bullet went through the leg. It'll be alright in a few days," Dillon replied.

Red grinned and asked, "Can you spare a cup of coffee?"

Dillon chuckled and pointed to the pot sitting on a rock close to the fire. "Help yourself Red. You'll excuse me if I don't get up to serve you."

Josh spoke in a more serious voice, "You want me to take a look at your leg?"

"Not much more can be done until I get home. I cleaned it out, stopped the bleeding, and put some aloe on it. It should be okay until I can get back to the ranch."

Red and Josh unsaddled their horses, joined Dillon at the fire, and got some coffee. Then Red pointed at the bodies. "What happened Dillon?"

Dillon explained how he trailed the men and came into their camp. "Told them I was going to take them back to the law; they decided they weren't going back and pulled down on me." He pointed at the bodies and added, "They made a fatal mistake."

Josh looked at his friend and didn't see any signs of remorse or sadness. Dillon had a job to do, he thought. That's all there was to it. "If you're up to it, we'll start back in the morning. Should be able to make it back late the second day," Josh said.

As they bedded down for the night, Red knelt down by Dillon and said, "You should have waited and let us share in the fun." He patted Dillon's shoulder and added, "But I'm glad you weren't killed my friend."