reached into it and began pulling out rifles, which he tossed to his men as they followed him.
The men on the bluff continued to trade shots with the outlaws, and because they were occupied with that, they couldn’t stop the handful of Navajo from looting the broken crate. Matt saw Juan Pablo grab a box of ammunition and leap back onto his pony. Matt snapped a shot at the warrior, but the bullet whined past Juan Pablo’s head harmlessly.
“They’re gettin’ away with some of those rifles!” Matt called to Sam.
“I know!” his blood brother replied. “And the boss is getting away, too!”
Indeed, the leader of the gang had made it to one of the horses and swung up into the saddle. He kicked the animal into a run that carried him out of the circle of light cast by the lantern, which was still burning even though it had half-fallen against the rail at the side of the wagon seat.
With their boss deserting them, the rest of the gun smugglers lost their enthusiasm for the fight. Three of them were down. The others wheeled their horses and galloped off into the night, taking a different direction than the fleeing Navajo.
Matt lowered his guns and asked, “Now what do we do?”
The scream that cut through the night answered the question. The men’s heads jerked toward the sound.
That scream came from Elizabeth Fleming, and as the cry was abruptly silenced, Matt knew that Juan Pablo must have stumbled over her.
Chapter 36
“That’s Elizabeth!” Matt yelled. “Come on!”
Sam caught his arm. “She had our horses with her, and Juan Pablo’s probably scattered them by now.”
“But we’ve got to go after them!”
“There are a couple of horses down there,” Sam said, nodding toward the mounts whose riders had been shot off of them. “Stovepipe and I will take them. You and Wilbur stay here and guard those rifles.”
“Blast it, Sam—”
“The two of you are wounded,” Sam cut in. “Stovepipe and I aren’t. Anyway, somebody’s got to guard those rifles, otherwise Juan Pablo is liable to circle back around and try to grab some more of them. So
“I hope so,” Matt said as he reached for fresh cartridges in the loops on his shell belt. “I surely do.”
Wilbur protested, “I ain’t hurt that bad. I told you it was just a scratch, Stovepipe.”
“I know that,” the lanky range detective said as he rested a hand on his partner’s shoulder for a second, “but like Sam says, somebody’s got to look after them guns, and I don’t know anybody I’d trust more’n you to do it, pard.”
“All right, all right,” Wilbur grumbled. “Don’t go butterin’ me up. Just get after those varmints and help that girl.”
“Plan to,” Stovepipe said as he finished reloading his revolver and snapped it closed.
He and Sam made their way down the narrow trail to the base of the bluff, followed by Matt and Wilbur. The first thing Sam did when he reached the wrecked wagon was blow out the stubbornly burning lantern. The light just made them better targets.
During that brief moment when he’d gotten a good look at the wagon, he had seen that it would never go anywhere again, not without a lot of work, anyway. Both axles had snapped under the sudden weight of the boulder.
All twelve of the crates containing the rifles had broken open. Some of the weapons no doubt were ruined.
Most of them were still usable, though, and it would be up to Matt and Wilbur to make sure none of them wound up in the wrong hands, along with that ammunition.
Sam and Stovepipe caught the two remaining horses and swung up into the saddles they had emptied. Before they could ride off, Wilbur said, “Hey, we could unhitch a couple of horses from the wagon team—”
“No time,” Sam said. “We’ve got to find Elizabeth.”
He heeled his mount into a run toward the spot where they had left the redheaded teacher. Stovepipe was right beside him. Although Sam was trying to stay calm, worry gnawed at his guts.
As enraged as Juan Pablo was bound to be at having his plans ruined like this, there was no telling what he might do to Elizabeth to vent his anger.
Back at the wagon, Matt asked, “Did you get a good look at the hombre who was giving orders, Wilbur?”
“Pretty good, I reckon. Why?”
“You’ve been hangin’ around the settlement for a while, according to what Sam said. Did you recognize that fella?”
“I don’t know his name,” Wilbur said, “but I recollect seein’ him in the Buckingham a few times. You know, the way you see anybody in a saloon, drinkin’ and playin’ cards.”
Matt nodded.
“Then we’ll probably be able to find him in Flat Rock later. We’ve got some settlin’ up to do with that hombre.”
Wilbur snorted and said, “We’ll be lucky to find him. He’s probably takin’ off for the tall and uncut right now. Won’t stop until he gets to Denver or Santa Fe or El Paso.”
“I think you’re wrong,” Matt said. “He’s put a lot of time and effort into this scheme. He’ll try to figure out some way to salvage it. If he could cause some trouble that he could blame on the Navajo ... like maybe burning down the saloon or something ... he might try it.”
