The Loner: Inferno #12

San Remo. Behind them, guns finally began to pop as the Rurales realized what was going on.

The dun was faster than any of the other horses. The Kid held him back a little to keep him from running off and leaving the women. He waved them on and shouted encouragement, fearing that at any moment he would hear one of them cry out in pain as a blindly-fired shot found a target. Such a hit would be pure luck—bad luck—but just as dangerous as a well-aimed bullet.

But the only sounds that filled the night were the pounding hoofbeats and the gunshots that were dwindling in the distance behind them. So far, all the women seemed to have made it through the daring escape unharmed.

Circling around San Remo, they headed east toward the mountains, with The Kid in the lead steering by the stars. When they reached the slopes, he pulled the dun back to a walk and called to the others to slow down. After a minute, he stopped.

“What are you doing?” Jess demanded. “We have to keep moving!”

“Quiet,” The Kid said. “Let me listen.”

He didn’t hear any shots, but more important, he didn’t hear any hoofbeats. The Rurales weren’t coming after them yet. At least, they weren’t within earshot.

“All right,” he told the women. “We’ll walk the horses for a few minutes, then run them again. We’ll have to ride like that, or they’ll get so worn out they won’t be able to go on. That won’t do us any good.”

“That makes sense, I suppose,” Jess said grudgingly. “I still can’t believe we actually got out of that place, but now that we are, I want to put as much distance between us and it as we can.”

“We will,” The Kid told her.

He had a hard time believing they had escaped, too. Luck had been with them so far.

The bad thing about luck was that you couldn’t count on it. It could turn on you at a moment’s notice, without any warning, and usually with tragic results. It had happened to him.

They moved at a steady pace, climbing toward the pass. The Kid heard Jess muttering and knew she was impatient. They could let the horses run again once they were on the other side of the pass.

It was a long way to the border. Would their mounts be able to last that long? The Kid hoped he could find the waterholes where he and the scalphunters had stopped on the way to San Remo. If he couldn’t, there was no chance they could make it across that inferno of a desert between the mountains and the border.

His canteens still hung on his saddle, and one was full, the other about half. He had some jerky in his saddlebags. That wasn’t much for a journey that might take several days. He might be able to shoot some game along the way ... if they came across any animals other than lizards and snakes. It was possible they wouldn’t.

But worrying about everything that could go wrong was a waste of time. The important thing was to keep moving. They were in a race to the border, and the stakes were life and death.

The Kid kept them moving all night, except for brief halts to rest the horses. He could tell the animals were tired, and soon they would need to rest for a longer period of time. He didn’t want to stop until morning, when he could see if anyone was coming after them.

By the time the sun began to peek over the eastern horizon, they had reached the saddle where he and Kelly and the others had ambushed the Apaches. The stench of rotting flesh hung over the area and made the women grimace and gag.

“Don’t look at them,” The Kid advised. “The buzzards have been after them, and it’s not pretty.”

“After what they did to us, I’m glad they’re dead,” Jess said. “It doesn’t bother me a bit to see them.”

“Well, it bothers me,” Violet said. “Come on, Elsie.”

The Kid said, “Jess, give Leah’s reins to Elsie. If you’re all right, you can give me a hand.”

“Doing what?” Jess asked. “They’ve already been scalped.”

“There might be food in their gear,” The Kid explained. “I intend to have a look. We can use any ammunition they have that will fit our guns, too.”

For the next half hour, The Kid and Jess poked through the packs dropped by the Apaches when bushwhack bullets cut them down. They found strips of dried meat—probably horse meat, The Kid thought, but he wouldn’t tell the women that—along with rifles and ammunition enough for all of them. He gathered up a number of canteens, too. Most had water in them, and he could refill them at the first waterhole they came to.

He also spent some time with his telescope, scanning the foothills and mountains to the west. After a while, he caught a glimpse of the sun reflecting off something just below the pass. It had to be metal of some sort, and that meant pursuit.

“They’re back there,” he told Jess. “Quite a few hours behind us, though, so we’re lucky there. I was hoping it would take them a while to round up enough horses. We’d better get moving.”

“Can we stay ahead of them long enough to reach the border?”

“That’s a good question,” The Kid said with a faint smile. “Only one way to find out.”

They moved on in the rising heat, following the cutoff through the brush-choked wash that Kelly had used before. The Kid thought there was a good chance Kelly and the others would be with the Rurales, so he and the women couldn’t afford to go the long way around the way the Apaches had.

By midday they were all soaked with sweat and the horses were lathered and staggering. The Kid called a halt for an hour and told the women to crawl under some of the brush to take advantage of its shade.

“Watch out for snakes,” he warned them.

“Aren’t you going to rest?” Jess asked.

“Next time. Somebody needs to stand watch.”

“Give me half an hour, then I’ll spell you.”

The Kid started to tell her that wasn’t necessary, then nodded. “I’m obliged.”

“We’d either be back there in that compound or on our way to Mexico City if it wasn’t for you,” Jess said. “That’s a debt we’ll never be able to pay back.”

“Nobody’s expecting you to,” The Kid said.

The women fell asleep right away. The Kid woke Jess thirty minutes later. As soon as he lay down and closed his eyes he was asleep, too.

Getting out of the sun and dozing, even for half an hour, made him feel better.

Jess woke the others. They mounted up and headed out again. When they reached the end of the wash, The Kid said, “We’re going to stop here for a few hours and wait out the worst of the heat. The rest has helped the horses, but not enough. We can make better time by traveling at night.”

Grim-faced, Jess asked, “Do you think those bastards who are after us will stop?”

“I hope so, but even if they don’t, we don’t have any choice. The horses are about to drop, and we sure can’t get away from the Rurales on foot.”

“It’ll be all right, Jess,” Elsie said. “I’m sure Mr. Morgan knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m sure he does, too,” Jess agreed, but added under her breath, “But there may not be any way out of this.”

She was right about that, but The Kid didn’t feel like giving up.

They rested in the shade of the banks until the sun went down, sleeping and gnawing on jerky to sustain their strength. When the sun finally disappeared behind the mountains, they mounted up and The Kid led them into the desert.

“There’s a waterhole in some rocks about twenty miles north of here, if I remember right. We can make it before morning.”

“Unless you get lost and we miss it,” Jess said.

The Kid grinned. “Have a little faith.”

“That’s not ... easy to do.”

He grew solemn as he nodded. “I know. But we need to do it anyway.”

He was a fine one to talk, he told himself, after the way he had just about given up on life. He still felt that way sometimes, but for now, he had a goal that kept him going—to get the women safely across the border.

That night was a challenge to everything he had learned from Frank Morgan about using the stars as a guide. The Kid thought he had them going in the right direction, but he couldn’t be absolutely certain. If they missed the waterhole, as Jess had pointed out, they might not ever make it to the next one.

Long hours into the night, when the moon had risen and was on its downward sweep, The Kid caught sight of