Chapter 16
A cowboys’ work is never done.
After riding for two hours they came upon Horse Creek, just west of Meriden. It took them a few minutes to find a safe place for the horses to cross and then they took off at a gallop heading northwest to Chugwater.
As they approached Red Angus’ place they saw four wranglers working in the corral branding some calves. It looked like Red and his brother, Ed, on the fence watching the men work.
Walcott had his men spread out in a line as they rode down into the valley and up to the corral.
Red and the others saw the riders coming when they were about one hundred yards away.
“Get your guns boys, we got company,” Red hollered. Angus wasn’t one who got visitors so he knew this was trouble coming.
Ed Angus and two of the wranglers ran to the barn to get their horses while the rest sought cover behind a shed next to the corral.
Walcott lifted his arm and said, “Stop here men. Let’s see what they are planning to do.”
It didn’t take long for them to find out as a bullet went buzzing by Corlett’s head.
“Damn, that was close,” Corlett said.
“Let’s get ‘em boys,” Walcott yelled as he charged down toward the corral with his gun blazing.
As Walcott found out while fighting battles in the army, many bullets flew but few hit their mark. He and his men were on Angus’ group before they knew it. When up close, The Texas Kid dropped Red with one shot between the eyes. Ben Jones and Bill Walker shot Ed Angus and one of the cowboys off their horses while they tried to ride away. The other cowboy dropped his gun and threw up his hands. The Texas Kid cocked his forty five and sent a round through the cowboy’s heart. Blood and flesh flew as the round went through his body. The cowboy dropped like a sack of flour with dark red blood seeping from his shirt onto the ground.
Nick and Ray Champion came in from the north and circled the shed that the wranglers were hiding behind while Ben Jones and Bill Walker came at them from the south. Two of the wranglers were shot numerous times and died on the spot while the third took off running for the hills with Ray Champion in close pursuit swinging his rope. About twenty five yards out, Ray tossed his rope. It circled the wrangler’s body, pinning his arms close to his side. Like a good cow pony, Ray’s horse braked to a stop and started backing up tightening the rope around the man. Ray dallied the rope around his saddle horn. He turned his horse around, and at a gallop, started dragging the wrangler behind him.
“Yahoo, way to go Ray,” The Kid yelled as Ray continued to circle the property with the wrangler’s body bouncing behind him.
All the men started yelling and encouraging Ray and his horse on.
All that Walcott could see was a cloud of dust chasing Champion’s horse around the corral. When it was over, the wrangler was dead. He was torn to pieces from hitting all the rocks and tree stumps that were littering Angus’ property.
“Ok, let’s gather up those calves and get them back to Olive.”
“Nick, you and Ray can start back while we go see what Horace Plunkett is hiding at his place.”
“You got it, Major,” Nick replied as his brother Ray was loosening the honda on his rope releasing the dead body of the wrangler.
“Ok, let’s bury these men and get outta here,” the Major yelled.
“Hey, Major, look here. I got me a little Mexican. What should I do with him?” it was the Texas Kid walking out of the barn with his gun to the back of a young Mexican boy he found cowering in a stall.
“Well, I don’t want him, so we might as well leave ‘im be,” Walcott said.
“Should I shoot him?” the Kid asked.
“Why?”
“Why not?” The Texas Kid replied.
“No point in it, Walcott said. Put him back in the stall and let’s get outta here.”
The Texas Kid walked back to the barn with the Mexican boy in tow. When he got to the first stall, he opened the gate hitting the boy in the back of his head with the butt of his revolver. The boy dropped to his knees with blood flowing down the side of his head into his ear.
“Get up,” the Texas Kid yelled.” I said get up, levántate,” pulling the boy to his feet by his arm.
The Kid pushed the boy forward and he stumbled against the stall wall. The Texas Kid saw a two by four leaning against one wall. He picked it up and walked toward the cowering boy. Raising the board, he swung it at the boy striking him on his knee cap, shattering it. Then he swung the board and hit the boy in the face.
The Kid knew he broke the boy’s cheek bone as he heard it crack. What he didn’t realize was that the end of the board tore the eyeball out of its socket. It was hanging down the boy’s face by what appeared to be grizzle and muscle. The sight of it made the Kid smile.
“Aw shit,” he said. He swung the board one more time hitting the boy behind the ear. The Kid stood there and watched the boy drop face first into the hay covering the stall’s floor.
The Kid drew his gun and cocked the hammer. He aimed it at the back of the boy’s head but before he could pull the trigger he heard Walcott calling his name.
“Kid? Kid, get the hell out here. We gotta go.”
“I’m coming,” he yelled, shaking his head as he holstered his gun and turned to walk out into the afternoon sun. “Damn Mexican.”
Before he left he turned back to the young boy and said, “You’re one lucky Beaner.” He spat on the ground next to where the boy lay and walked out into the bright afternoon sun.