Episode 6
Guardian Angel
Joe dropped his spent Colt to free his hand to fan the hammer of the one remaining.
His first wild shot round took the fat teamster in the thigh, causing the man to stumble back on his uncertain perch. The coach gun in the man’s fists discharged, sending shot and flame into the sky. The second ball went high into the man’s chest and spilled him backwards off the top of the wagon and out of sight.
Ben whirled to where Joe stood, smoking Colt in his hand, eyes wide and feral. Ben’s eyes narrowed and he tilted his head in a swift appraisal. Joe’s grin grew wider around the dagger blade still clenched in his teeth.
A coyote whoop sounded high over the camp. A big Tonkawa buck charged into the guttering firelight leading a phalanx of raiders on horseback. Wolf, the Tonkawa, raised a rifle over his head and shrieked like a mad man. The teamsters and pistoleros broke off their fire and ran from cover into the surrounding dark with only a few parting snap shots. The mounted men pursued the scattering defenders.
Ben and Muñoz raced after them on foot with Joe behind the charge. Joe tossed his remaining Colt aside. He snatched up a long-barreled revolver from the hand of a man sitting against a wagon wheel with half his head gone. He ran to catch up.
From the shadows rose the shouts of men exulting in victory along with the screams of men dying.
Joe caught up with Ben. The older man was crouching, head down. A few of the other raiders, white men and Mexicans, stood afoot gazing into the impenetrable blackness of the night. Laughter echoed off the rocks. Beneath it the mewling of pleading men gibbering for their lives. They’d soon be begging to die.
“Muñoz is with them,” Ben said as Joe dropped to one knee by him. “Damned dago’s as bloodthirsty as those savages.”
Joe said nothing. Ben was speaking for only him to hear.
“A more Christian fella would go out there and put a bullet in every one of those bastards,” Ben said, “Only I’m so damned tired.”
Joe wasn’t sure if Ben was speaking of the tortured or the torturers. Ben turned and fixed Joe with a squint.
“I must have known this night was coming somehow. Back then, at Bent’s Fort. Must have seen you were my guardian angel.” The corner of Ben’s mouth turned up in a smile.
“I’m your guardian angel?” Joe said.
“Well it’s for sure heaven hasn’t assigned a poor damned soul like me any special favors,” Ben said. “Had to get myself one.”
