Saving Alice Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

The two men had moved into the ravine, stepping over the rubble of rocks that were making up the floor of the side wash. The narrow gulch climbed rather sharply as it cut its path through the hill. Chet set the pace as they climbed, not wanting his adversaries to catch on to what they were doing. He wanted to get into position as quickly as possible and hopefully surprise them with a few shots from this new angle. If he could get at least one of them, then their odds would be greatly increased.
“Look here, son. We’re goin’ to climb up this bank here and see if we can get an eye on ‘em. What you need to do is try not to knock any rocks loose. That’d make a clatter to raise the dead out here. We want to catch ‘em unawares.”
“Alright, I’ll watch where I’m stepping,” said Matthew.
“Afore we take to a new spot, I’m goin’ to give ‘em somethin’ to think about.” Chet then stuck his hand from around the rock and shot off three quick shots into the general direction of the one rifleman he had seen. He knew he would more than likely hit nothing of consequence; he just wanted to give his attackers a reason to be cautious.
Chet quickly reloaded his gun and then started his climb up the rocky side of the bank. It was steep for the first few feet, but then quickly rounded itself off into a softer slope as they neared the top. Chet dropped to his knees with gun in hand as he crested the hill and saw that they were indeed as high as he wanted to be.
Peering over the top he scanned the scene before him. He found the spot where he had estimated the gunman would be. Frustratingly he saw that the man was no longer in the same position. Slowly his eyes probed the area searching every rock and bush for any sign of his opponents. A movement off to his right caught his eye. One of the gunmen had stepped from behind a rock and cautiously moved to another position. He was heading in the direction Chet and Matthew’s original hiding place, but he was still a ways off. Chet surmised that he must have just started his movements. The gunman must have seen that Chet nor Matthew were offering themselves for targets any longer.
Having found one of the gunmen, Chet quickly searched the rest of the area for the rest of the gunmen, but he couldn’t see where they were they were concealed. Looking further up the wash a movement called for his attention. Just around the bend Chet saw a lone horse swishing its tail as it was tied to a scrub brush. Chet lifted his head a little higher to get a better look, and as he thought through the event of being shot at, he realized that there was only one man doing the shooting.
Scooting back down out of sight, he spoke in hushed tones to Matthew. “There ain’t but one varmint over there tryin’ to get us, and he don’t know yet that we done moved. I want you to stay here. I’m goin’ after him, but I got to get a better position.”
Matthew gave a nod in consent and then, like a whisper, Chet crested the hill and started a descent towards his target. Matthew quietly scooted up to Chet’s old position and looked down into the wash that was now being drawn into the shroud of shadows from the dying day. He could see Chet making his quick progress down the hill, but the location of the other man was lost to his eyes. Suddenly he saw the man moving cautiously from his hiding place.
Chet was surprisingly cutting the distance between him and the gunman very quickly as he adroitly made his way down the steep embankment, using both hands and feet as he lithely moved from rock to rock, and bush to bush. Matthew kept expecting the gunman to hear something from Chet- a kicked stone, a snapped twig, or too heavily placed foot. But Chet, like a cat in its hunt, proved his prowess with each expertly displayed movement. Matthew’s heart jumped as he saw the gunman turn to look behind him, but Chet had anticipated it and had made himself invisible.
Just as the man had reached the rocks where Chet and Matthew had been hiding, Chet had also gotten into his position. The gunman lowered his rifle into a ready position for a quick firing as he readied himself to spring around the rock. With a swift movement he swung himself around to a firing line of sight, only to find the three horses, but no men.
Immediately Chet stepped out into a new position with his revolver in hand. “Don’t make a move,” came the menacing voice of Chet. The gunman froze where he stood, not even moving his head. Chet continued with his instructions, “If you do as I’m tellin’ you, you just might live to see another day. Now then, real slow like, I want you to take that trigger finger off that there gun you been tottin’.”
But the man just stood like a statue, not moving a muscle. He was hesitating between compliance and action. Chet lowered his voice, and in a dangerously calm voice he spoke again, “I ain’t goin’ to count or give you no more warnin’s. I’m just a goin’ to shoot you if your hand don’t move right now.”
The man’s hand slowly opened its grip and ever so slowly released its hold on the rifle’s trigger.
“Why, you just proved to be a very smart man… best choice you could be makin’. Now, with just the same slow movin’, you is goin’ to place that gun down on the ground right where you stand. And don’t be quick about nothin’. You’ll be dead before you can twitch.”
The man did just as he was instructed. With a slow continuous movement he bent to put his rifle down on the ground beside him. Then as he returned to standing upright he turned his body so he could face Chet.
Chet was aware of his every movement, and understood that the threat was not over yet. The man’s six-shooter was still in its holster, and tied down to his thigh. “You still got the teeth of a rattler there on your side,” Chet said holding his gun leveled ominously to the man’s chest. “What your life needs right now, is for that gun to be slowly pulled out and put to ground.”
Just as Chet had finished his last word, the man dove off to the side, but not in the direction of the rocks for cover. Chet had readied himself for just such an action, except he had done so thinking the man would have moved towards the logical safety of the rocks, so his hand reflexively twitched in the opposite direction as he pulled the trigger, sending his bullet uselessly down the wash.
Meanwhile, in the same instant of his dive the gunman had pulled his gun from its holster, and as he was falling to the ground fired a shot at his opponent. The shot was wild and went harmlessly high over Chet’s head. He hit the ground and began rolling with his gun extended towards Chet and firing as fast as his finger could move, but they were desperate shots, not well aimed.
Chet had not remained rooted to his position, he too was now moving, crouched low and away from cover also, parallel with the gunman’s rolling body. A bullet ricocheted off the ground near his feet, sending a spray of pebbles and dirt to pelt his legs. His foot leapt into the air of its own accord to the close call.
Chet’s gun was not silent as it spoke with a flaming tongue. His hand was searching for the right angle to hit his now moving target. The gunman had made himself a small target by getting to the ground, and the rolling body proved a difficult mark to hit. His second shot had hit the ground where the gunman had first landed, but had rolled away from. Chet’s third shot had the same result of hitting the ground just as the man rolled from it. His forth shot went high, as the gunman’s gun had placed that one bullet near Chet’s foot.
Suddenly the gunman rolled up to his knees in order to get a better well-aimed shot. Chet’s gun had still been tracking the low target, and this time his bullet found the gunman’s thigh as it ripped though the flesh and shattered the bone. The man cried out as he took another shot at Chet, again missing. Chet’s final shot was more accurate, as it hit the man squarely in the chest. The man fell backward, landing hard upon his back and his gun falling from his now lifeless hand.
Chet came to a stop and stood with his gun still pointing at the dead man. Every muscle in his body was rigid and ready for action. But none was needed. Slowly he walked toward the motionless body, with its wounded leg bend awkwardly to the side.
Chet stopped his advance at the feet of the slain man and peered down upon the fallen body. The man stared blankly into the dying day’s sky. The look of peace did not rest upon his face, but was instead warped into a grimace of agony.
For Chet, there was no joy in his heart for having won this battle. He had seen many dead men in his time, but the ones that he had sent to their final end put an unspeakable heaviness in his heart- to be the agent of sending someone to heaven or hell was something that was not to be savored. Perhaps it was best to think that life just ended- an eternity one way or the other was too great a responsibility to bear. His childhood teachings upon his mother’s lap or in the small white steeple-topped church proved to be words that haunted him when he saw his hand’s work lay before him. Though he had never done the deed except in self-defense, the idea gnawed upon his soul.
He looked down at his gun that was still ready for action. He gave a shake of his head when he examined the rounds and found that he had spent all of the bullets. “Lost count of ‘em,” he mumbled to himself as he reloaded his gun, which was always his habit after shooting it.
Holstering his gun, he turned to find Matthew now coming down the embankment. “Preacher,” said Chet when Matthew came to his side, “you got any words for him?”
Matthew stood beside Chet. “Have mercy on his soul, Lord.”
Chet stepped past the fallen man and gathered up the gun and stripped the holster from the body. He wrapped the holster upon itself and moved toward the horses, picking up the rifle as he passed it.