Chapter IX · GUNS OUT!

Kentuck was making headquarters in a little 'dobe house, quite a bit back from the beach and set in a clump of prickly pears. It was a pretty place, with flowers and shade, plenty to eat and drink. Music and the quiet had relaxed his taut nerves. He had arranged all details as far as his end went.

Two of the rurales in whose beat he was had agreed to play in according to his instructions; the jefe político of the district was to share with Kentuck fifty-fifty—at least he thought so. With the jefe's help Kentuck had picked out ten men who didn't care whether it was a yacht or a battleship, if the looting was good and they could get away with it.

As far as killing went, neither Kentuck nor any of the others once thought about that. They killed without a moment's hesitation, as simply as they would raise a drink to their mouths. Now there was nothing to do but await Clark's messenger.

Kentuck, through his glasses, saw the fishing boat coming up the coast. It stopped and dropped anchor every once in awhile, and he saw the lines go out. He had been a fisherman himself in his younger days, and watched them for awhile with a smile on his thin lips. Some one called him after a short time, and he went in the house.

The fishing boat lazed along, coming nearer inshore, and finally beached a mile up from the house. The four men pulled it up on the beach, threw an anchor on the beach, secured it with an old spar, stretched and appeared to see the house for the first time.

They started to walk up the gentle slope toward it. A Mexican slid off the roof and went inside. Kentuck was talking to two of the men who had joined him.

"Señor," the man said, "a small boat has just come, and from it there comes four men to the house. Is it your desire that they come?"

"It's a fishing party," answered Kentuck. "I saw them. No reason why they shouldn't come up, Juan; they probably want to get a drink. If we stopped them it would look suspicious. Let them come, amigo. If they question, I am a mining man, and you are my helpers."

His Spanish was almost as good as Juan's, who nodded and went out to greet the fishing party.

"I do not think it advisable," Kentuck went on to the two men, "to allow more men than absolutely necessary to board the ship when she comes ashore. The crew will not show fight, we believe, and it will lessen confusion. The whole thing must be carried through as a rescue; is that plain to you both?"

"Sí, señor," they both said eagerly, "muy claro!"

A man came in. "Señor," he said, "the señores of the small boat ask that you come out and drink with them."

"I didn't want them to know that a white man was here," said Kentuck with a frown. "Who told them?"

The man raised his shoulders and held out his hands.

"Quién sabe?" he answered in a resigned tone. "They ask, as I said. What more, Señor Kentuck?"

Kentuck went out and around to the side of the house where the shade was best. Two of the four men were over away from the house watching with interest a card game that several Mexicans were playing, a blanket spread on the ground acting as table. The Mexicans were squatting around it or kneeling. One or two stretched out on the ground were watching the others, having evidently gone broke. The two Mexicans had come out with Kentuck and were with him when he came up.

Jimmie Earpe turned to face the white man as he heard him coming. Kentuck recognized him. The slight tightening of his eyes was the only sign that he sensed danger.

"Hello, Earpe," he said calmly. "I didn't know you went in for fishing."

"Well, suh," drawled Earpe, "I don't reckon I do, very much. That no-'count Sam over yonder is the fisherman of the Earpe family."

"Yes? Is he—oh, yes, I see him—and your other cousin, Bill, too. Is this gentleman a Ranger also?"

"No," answered Earpe. "This here jasper is a Federal agent named Grant. Jimmie, this is Kentuck Mears."

Jimmie Grant grinned at Kentuck, who smiled politely in return. "I've heard of Mr. Grant," Kentuck said. "I knew there was a Federal man working with Sawyer. I won't insult you gentlemen by pretending you came here for a drink. What do you want, Earpe?"

Kentuck's tone became wintry. As soon as he saw Sam and Bill Earpe he knew that something somewhere had slipped, and that they had come for him.

"You know, of course, you are in Mexico," Kentuck went on. "Your authority is the same as mine or any one's here—absolutely nothing."

"Yes, suh," agreed Earpe. "We know that, Kentuck."

"Here it is," said Jimmie Grant shortly. "Cutting out all the wah-wah, when you had the Kid put on the spot, Kentuck—which incidentally we can't prove, of course—you spoiled some plans of ours for getting the Chang Kwang.

"What you are doing here we don't know and we don't give a damn. We got word you were here, and came down to do one of two things. First, take you back with us and hold you incomunicado until we round up, then try you on any old charge and make it stick if we can; or we will just remove you from the picture. You can take your choice."

Kentuck's eyes widened. "Short, sweet, and to the point! I always like to have matters put plainly to me, Mr. Grant. I will speak just as plainly. First, I will not go back with you, for several reasons, ignoring the reason why I am here. I am wanted for a few things that would be rather embarrassing to face. Second, let me call your attention to the fact that there are ten or more men here with me, picked for their ability along certain lines; and while I give you gentlemen full credit for your nerve and your undoubted skill with guns, I can only say that I don't think you can make the play good."

Jimmie Grant laughed gayly.

"I didn't think you would accept the first, Kentuck. Well, get something in your hand—"

A Mexican coming around from the rear of the house had reached the card game on the blanket. As he started to sit down he saw Sam Earpe and jumped back, his hand going to his holster.

"El Rangero Earpe!" he yelled. "Muerte!"

Young Bill Earpe, being closest to him, killed him before his hand had started to draw his gun from the holster.

All the card players who could rolled away from the blanket, the others faced the two Rangers from where they sat.

The two men who had been with Kentuck, not understanding much of what was said, ran toward the blanket, now covered with bodies. Sam and Bill Earpe were standing as they had been when the Mexican shouted, but now their heavy Colt .45s were roaring out death at every pull of the trigger.

Jimmie Earpe stepped out a step from Grant, and his Colt rose and fell twice. He "threw down" on the two men as coldly and calmly as he would on a rattlesnake; they were rattlesnakes, human ones. After he fired the second shot he ran out about ten feet, whirled, and stood facing the house, his eyes alert for a shot or man from within.

Kentuck stood facing Jimmie Grant. There was no fear in his eyes. He knew that it was hopeless now and that he had lost. If there had been time to signal Juan and one or two others to get posted while he talked, there might have been a chance. He had decided, at the moment the Mexican yelled, to pretend to yield. Now there was nothing left but to shoot it out. He could not go back to the United States—it would be going to the chair.

In the split second it had taken him to reach for his gun he had thought it out.

Jimmie Grant read in Kentuck's eyes that he was going to take a chance. The two shots came together, and both men staggered back from the impact of the bullets. Kentuck's teeth closed over his underlip as he tried to maintain his upright position. Jimmie Grant was already swaying back. Kentuck fired twice more and Jimmie fired once as he straightened up almost to attention, facing Kentuck some five feet from him.

Jimmie Grant whirled around as Kentuck's second bullet tore through his shoulder, the third getting him in the left arm as he turned. The force of the bullet was enough to turn Jimmie halfway around, and, falling as he was, his nerve forced his body the rest of the way.

As he fell he fired once more at Kentuck, whose knees were giving. Kentuck was already in the shadow of the valley of death, with everything going black, yet with the instinct of a born killer he returned the fire, then his body fell across Jimmie Grant.

The firing by the blanket had ceased. Four Mexicans had their hands up, the rest were dead. Sam Earpe had a bullet in his leg, Bill Earpe was untouched.

The Rangers had been too fast for the Mexicans, and those that were alive had promptly thrown up their hands after seeing five men killed before they could get really into action. The bullet Sam had collected came from the third man, who had time to fire once.

Jimmie Earpe pulled the body of Kentuck off Jimmie Grant and knelt beside him. Bill Earpe stayed with the Mexicans, and Sam came limping over.

"Through the shoulder and the arm," Jimmie announced, "and a bad one in the chest. Reckon we better get this no-'count scoundrel of a Jimmie Grant to a doctor, muy pronto, Sam. You hurt bad?"

"Not any," answered Sam. "I got me a little one in the leg. I'll get Bill to plug it up for me. You tend to this here Jimmie. Man howdy, he can sure take it, can't he, Jimmie? I seen him workin', out of the corner of my eye."

Jimmie and Bill Earpe searched the house, after locking the survivors in one of the rooms, and after they had given Jimmie Grant all the first aid they knew, they carried him to the boat, leaving the body of Kentuck to await Clark's messenger.