She said, “At the start, Lance, I want it understood that I’m not to be treated as a woman. I can handle a gun and do my part. And there mustn’t be any talk of surrendering because of me.”
“Frankly,” Sheriff Lockwood said, “I think we’d be fools to surrender. We couldn’t trust to Fletcher’s word——”
“Certainly not,” Jones put in. “The man’s a mad dog. We’ve got to fight. Our case may not be hopeless. There are”—he counted rapidly—“Lance and the sheriff and Oscar are three; Lanky, Tom Piper and Trunk-Strap makes six. Then there’s Hub, Cal Braun, Luke Homer and myself. That’s ten. And Katherine. I wonder how much of a force Fletcher will have? Himself, Ordway and Johnson. Jehovah only knows how many Yaquentes, though——”
“I wish there was some way we could get Miss Gregory away.” Oscar frowned, absent-mindedly crunching a lemon drop.
“I’ve been thinking of that.” Lance nodded moodily. “We might make some sort of deal with Fletcher——”
“Lance,” Katherine protested, “I won’t hear of that. I’d sooner stay than trust myself to that beast.”
Lance nodded. “I think you’re right at that, Katherine, much as I hate to say it.”
“Do you reckon,” Lanky drawled, “that we could slip Miss Gregory away after sundown——?”
“Fiddlesticks!” Katherine snapped. “Don’t you suppose Fletcher will think of that and have men out watching for just such a move?”
The men in the room remained silent, realizing the girl spoke the truth. Katherine went on, “I’m staying here and fighting with you. That’s settled. The sooner you men realize that the sooner you can get down to business and prepare a defense for this house. We’ve only got until daylight, remember. It’s suppertime now. I’ll take over the cooking of food so Cal can help the rest of you. Just forget about me.”
Lance had to face the facts. He knew Katherine spoke the truth and that there was nothing else to do except as she pointed out. Reluctantly he conceded the point. “Right.” He nodded tersely, though his heart warmed to the girl’s courage. “It’s decided then that there’s to be no question of surrendering?”
“No-o-o!” the room roared collectively. “We fight!”
Lance smiled thinly and gave a sigh of relief. “Thank heaven you folks settled the question for me. I sure didn’t want that responsibility.” His manner stiffened. “All right, we fight. Get all the guns and ammunition together and see what we have.”
“By the way,” Lanky said, “when I was hunting a burlap sack to put that snake in I found a whole pile of sacks in that shed beyond the corral. Suppose we fill ’em with sand and stack ’em along the outside edge of the gallery. It would make a dang good shelter to fire from.”
“That’s an idea,” Lance said enthusiastically. “Lanky, you got a head on you. Get some picks and shovels, and we’ll get busy. The yard out in front of the house is sandy, gravelly stuff. Take it from there. Dig in the shape of a wide trench. We won’t have time to make it deep, but any obstruction should slow up the Fletcher gang when they come raiding. Maybe we’re not so bad off after all. The walls of this old house are fully two feet thick. We can do our fighting from the gallery; that will leave us the house to retreat to if things get tough. All the doors are stout, and we can bar them. We want to be sure and bring plenty of water into the house to night and stack our food where it will be handy. We might be in for considerable siege.”
It was dark now. Oil lamps were lighted. Katherine started to prepare supper. Blankets were hung at the windows around the house. Guards were set to be on the watch for the first hostile move. Lanterns were lighted, and the men toiled to fill sandbags which were placed in the form of a breastwork around the edge of the long gallery. By twos and threes they dropped in to eat the food and drink the coffee Katherine had prepared. They all worked like beavers to get ready for the coming fight. The professor proved he could work with the best of them. For the present he seemed to forget his beloved cactus.
By midnight practically all was done that could be done. The two wagons of the expedition, in addition to a couple of Mexican carretas that were found on the place, had been placed at strategic points about the house to furnish further barriers against the raiders. Lance had had the horses brought from the corral and tethered along the back of the house near the doors. Not that they’d help a great deal, but every possible obstacle against a charging army was considered good tactics.
By this time all but the guards Lance had posted were in the big main room of the house oiling guns and in other ways preparing for the fight. Back of the house the earth had been cleared for some distance. It was probably from the front the attack would come, Lance decided. Not more than seventy-five feet from the gallery grew thick brush and trees, except for the opening that pointed the road to Muletero. “And it’s a cinch,” Lance mused, “Fletcher won’t be fool enough to come riding along that road. No, he’ll have his Yaquentes scattered through the brush, I’m betting.”
Katherine was seated at a long table tearing into strips a bolt of cotton she had found in the house. She smiled at Lance.
Lance said, “Bandages?” The girl nodded. Lance forced a smile in return. He didn’t say anything. The door to the gallery opened suddenly and Trunk-Strap Kelly entered. Kelly and Lanky were standing guard at the front of the house. Trunk-Strap said, “Lance, Lanky wants to see you. There’s a Yaquente outside making some sort of palaver. This Injun’s got the skin of a freshly killed rattler for a hatband on his sombrero—and the skin’s got feathers on it.”
Lance hurried outside. In the dim starlight beyond the sandbag barricade he saw Lanky conversing with Huareztjio. Lance leaped the barricade and approached. “What is it, Lanky? Howdy, Horatio.”
Huareztjio’s white teeth showed in a grin. “I’m t’ink fight weeth you, señor. Fletcher, him malo. How you say—bad, no?”
“Fletcher is damned bad,” Lance said grimly.
“Here’s the setup, Lance,” Lanky explained. “We’re getting a break. Huareztjio and his gang confronted Fletcher with that phony snake and asked questions. Fletcher tried to talk himself out of the fix but he didn’t convince all the Yaquentes by a long shot. Huareztjio and some of his buddies have come to fight for us if we’ll let ’em. They’re spoiling for a fight, anyhow——”
“This isn’t some sort of trick?” Lance asked sharply.
“I don’t reckon so. You saved Huareztjio from a beating one time and you showed him how Fletcher was pulling the wool over the eyes of the tribe. He and the cooler heads from his village want to show their gratitude. They’ve brought their guns and ca’tridges. Lance, we’re in luck. They’re fighting fools.”
“How many men can Horatio produce?”
“He claims to have seventy-five, but I ain’t seen one yet. Didn’t see Huareztjio until he was almost on top of me.”
“Ask him if he knows how big a force Fletcher has.”
Lanky put the question to Huareztjio. The Yaquente made quick reply. Lanky turned back to Lance. “He says Fletcher has gathered around a hundred and fifty men—Yaquentes and Apaches and breeds of various descriptions. Some of ’em are carrying pretty old guns too. Only the Yaquentes have modern arms.”
Lance frowned. “And will Horatio and his men fight against Indians of his own tribe?”
Lanky nodded. “A lot of the tribe wouldn’t have anything to do with either side. The Yaquentes who went with Fletcher are just young bucks with no sense, Huareztjio claims. Huareztjio and his pals are just spoiling to teach the young bucks a lesson, and—like I say, after all, fighting is a Yaquente’s whole life. Shall we take him up on the offer?”