The Last Confession

Chapter 6

The main point under consideration, at least as far as Rick O’Shea was concerned, was whether or not a large band of Mexicans would cross the river that very night in search of both him and the child whom they had taken. If so, then he could hardly expect any help or support from any of those in Archangel. They all had fish of their own to fry, and wouldn’t thank him for bringing trouble down upon the town. For all he knew to the contrary, some of those here might even be friends of Yanez and his boys and inclined to take his part in any sort of dispute. At the very least nobody hereabouts would want trouble which might bring the law or, God forbid, the military down on them.

All this meant coming to a decision as to whether or not O’Shea and the girls should try and find a room for the night there in town or ought to press on right now and make a run for San Angelo at once. It was the simple fact that he had only one, and just possibly two, horses which decided O’Shea that they would be well advised to stay there; at least until morning. He had his own mount and according to Jemima Covenay, she had one herself, stabled in the same establishment as O’Shea’s. It might prove possible to persuade the fellow running the livery stable to part with Sheriff Jackson’s as well, but when all was said and done, there were three of them to transport through the Reds. If it had been just he and Jemima Covenay, then it might have been possible to make a run for it, but he suspected that her baby sister would not be up to galloping hell for leather through the Gap, with a body of armed men on their tail. It certainly wouldn’t work if one of the horses were to be carrying two people.

The most sensible dodge would be to stay there that night and then, if the owner of the stable wouldn’t part with Jackson’s horse, try and get hold of some little pony the next day; assuming of course that Emily Covenay was actually able to ride. Otherwise, he supposed it might mean running across rough ground with a buggy or something of the kind. He said to the older girl, ’Can your sister ride?’

’Why don’t you ask her? She’s not a fool?’ replied Jemima tartly.

‘Sure I can ride!’ exclaimed Emily, catching the drift of their conversation, ‘I can ride ‘most as good as ‘mima. Ain’t that right?’

‘It is, darling. You’re a most remarkable rider.’

‘So, young Emily,’ said O’Shea, ‘If I could get hold of a pony of something, you reckon as you could ride for a couple of days?’

‘Pony? I won’t need no pony, will I Jemima? I can ride big horses!’

‘Well then,’ said O’Shea, ‘That might make things a little easier. I dare say as somebody in this town’ll be induced to sell us a horse.’

One of the hotels was still open for business; at any rate, the saloon on the ground floor was and the manager was happy to rustle up a couple of poky little rooms. Turning up with a couple of girls in that way, one of them only a child and the other dressed as a man, had attracted a good deal more attention than O’Shea wanted, but there was nothing to be done about it. The fact that the older of the girls was carrying a military musket was also apt to make people talk after they‘d left. There was little doubt that if Yanez and his men or Seth Jackson showed up here, it wouldn’t take too long for them to hear tidings of him and the Covenay girls.

Before they turned in for the night, O’Shea checked out the room that the two sisters would be sleeping in. He took the opportunity to reload the pistol which he had borrowed from Jemima. She had a neat little powder flask and full box of caps; along with a plentiful supply of balls and lint. As he charged the chambers of the gun, he said casually, ‘And you ain’t too distressed about that shooting earlier?’

For the first time since he had met her, Jemima Covenay smiled; a radiant sight which warmed O’Shea’s heart. She said, ‘It’s real sweet of you to be worried about me, but really, I’m just fine. Those men should never have troubled my sister, then they wouldn’t have got theyselves shot. I felt no more of it than if I’d shot a dog with the rabies.’

‘You’re the devil of a girl!’ he exclaimed honestly, ‘I don’t know when last I met somebody with as much grit as you got. I’ll leave you two alone. Don’t open that door for anybody but me. I’m in the next room, just bang on the wall if you’ve need. Goodnight Emily. I hope you’re looking forward to a good long ride tomorrow?’

‘I can’t wait! I love long rides.’

After giving some thought to staying awake all night and guarding the girls next door, O’Shea came to the conclusion that he’d be fit for nothing the next day if he were to do so. He was a light sleeper and didn’t doubt that he’d awaken if anything untoward happened.

As he lay on the bed, after having kicked off his boots, O’Shea suddenly realised that he had given no thought in the last twenty four hours to the fact that he was not really a free agent in this mission. Had he been released that very minute from the obligations laid upon him by that priest in San Angelo, then he would carry on straight along the same course. This was a comforting reflection; that his own present inclinations coincided in all respects with his duty. It was, to say the very least of it, an uncommon state of affairs. With which thought, Rick O’Shea fell sound asleep.

When next he opened his eyes, daylight was flooding in through the window. The light had that pale and watery look about it that you get just after dawn. O’Shea figured that it was no later than half past five. He could only have been asleep for four or five hours, but that would have to do for now. He pulled on his boots, opened the door and went out into the corridor. To his surprise, Jemima answered him as soon as he called her name softly outside the door to her room. She said, ’I’m awake and ready. Give Emily five minutes and we’ll join you.’

O’Shea had the feeling that it was a shade under five minutes before the door to the girls’ room opened and they both came out. Emily was yawning sleepily, but Jemima Covenay looked as fresh as if she’d been on an especially relaxing vacation. ’I’ve to see about our horses for the journey to San Angelo,’ said O’Shea, ’I shouldn’t be gone more than a half hour. We must move quickly. Can you both be ready to move by then? I’ve a notion they’ll serve you coffee down in the saloon, if you ask.’

‘We’ll be ready.’ said the older of the two sisters.

The fellow in charge of the livery stable was amenable to the idea of O’Shea taking both his own and Sheriff Jackson’s horse; providing always that both bills were settled. It was while he was on his way back to the hotel that Rick O’Shea caught sight of Seth Jackson, striding down the street as large as life.

It shouldn’t really have been any great surprise to see the sheriff here. After Rick O’Shea’s escape from captivity, it would have taken no great exercise of intellect to work out that he would be heading across the border. The discovery, which must surely have been made by now, that the child was also free, must have made this a racing certainty. Well then, O’Shea was not about to let Jackson spoil his game; not by a long sight.

Sheriff Jackson was walking briskly past the space between a hardware store and one of Archangel’s less salubrious saloons, when he received an almighty shove from behind, which almost sent him sprawling into the dirt. Before he had recovered his balance, somebody had grabbed hold of him and hustled him into the alleyway between the two buildings. The whole action had taken only a few seconds. Either nobody had noticed what had chanced or those who frequented the main street of Archangel were in the habit of minding their own business and not getting mixed up in things that were no concern of theirs, but whatever the reason; nobody appeared to take any notice of the proceeding. As soon as the two men were out of view of the street, Rick O’Shea cocked his piece and thrust the barrel of the 0.36 pistol painfully up into Sheriff Jackson’s throat; right at the angle of his jaw. He did this while still gripping the other man’s arm, it being made clear in this way to Jackson, that if there were to be any struggling or fighting, he was apt to have his head blown off. Despite this rough handling, Jackson said in a civil enough voice, ’What’ll you have O’Shea? You know it’s a hanging matter if you go any further down this road?’

’I just want the favour of a word, is all. First off is where others in this here town know now about your villainy. Disposing of me won’t save you and word is already like to be on its way to San Angelo about it.’ This was a bold bluff, but O’Shea figured that it might put the wind up Jackson, who merely asked, still in a conversational tone of voice,

’Anything more?’

’Just this. I got no interest in chasing after crooked lawmen right now, nor killing of them either. You leave me be and I’m going to return that poor child to her folks. You try and hinder me, and before God I’ll lay you in your grave and be hanged to the consequences of it.’

Surprisingly, Jackson laughed at this. He said, ‘You won’t make it back to San Angelo, not after what you done, O’Shea.’

‘What I done? What’s that mean. Speak up now!’

‘You killed Yanez’ mother and his baby brother last night. When I left last night, he was swearing oaths by all the gods that he was going to torture you to death.’

‘His mother? What’re you talking about?’

‘Well,’ said Jackson, chuckling as though he was at a musical theatre or some other light entertainment, ‘It was you, I guess, as hog-tied the old woman and gagged her? She tumbled down after you carried out your rescue last night. Fell down from her bedroom and broke her neck in the dark. You take the ladder away, too?’ He saw from the look in O’Shea’s face that he had done so and smiled again. ‘Well then, you’re a woman killer. How’s that make you feel? Still feel you’re a better man than me?’

For Rick O’Shea, who had always prided himself on not harming a single hair on the head of any woman or child, it was the hell of a shock; although he was not about to let Sheriff Jackson see that. He didn’t speak for a second and he and Jackson just stood there in their awkward pose, as though they were part of a waxwork tableau. Then O’Shea said, ‘I’m sorry that the old woman died and I own freely that I am answerable for her death. Even so, I reckon her blood is upon her own head. Anybody becomes mixed up in such a filthy business as that, man or woman, they got to bide the results of it. She’d tied a rope round that poor child’s arm, like she was a dog or steer. I’ll answer for her death to Yanez, maybe, but I’d do the same thing again if it brought that little girl to safety.’

‘Why, you are one cold-hearted bastard,’ said Sheriff Jackson wonderingly, ‘Wait ‘til Yanez catches up with you.’

‘I suppose one of them I shot last night was his brother? Well, I’ll answer for that too, though I don’t feel a bit sorry. This ain’t business, Jackson. You might be a lawman, but I reckon you’ll have your work cut out rustling up any posse or finding citizens to assist you in any ways in a town like this. Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll turn you loose, but on the understanding that you keep clear of me. Were I you, I wouldn’t go back to San Angelo, for they’ll soon know what a wretch you are there.’

‘I don’t believe you had time to send word anywhere. You’re bluffing.’

‘Well I ain’t bluffing about this, I catch a sight of you ‘for I leave this town, I’m like to kill you. That’s no bluff. O’Shea took his gun from Jackson’s neck and released his arm. He still kept the pistol pointing vaguely in the sheriff’s direction and said, ‘Go on, get out of here.’

As he made his way back to the hotel, O’Shea thought to himself, ‘I reckon that with good fortune and a fair wind behind me, I have no more than ten minutes to collect those horses and get out of here. Jackson’s a snake and he won’t forgive being held so at gunpoint. The two girls had had a bite to eat and O’Shea hurried them out of the hotel and down to the livery stable and yard. It was at this point that things miscarried, because O’Shea had been fixing to take Sheriff Jackson’s horse for Emily, but even though they had come straight here within a matter of ten or fifteen minutes of his parting company with Jackson; the sheriff had still had time to collect his horse.

‘How long since he collected his mount?’ asked O’Shea of the man running the livery stable, ‘Can’t have been that long since.’

‘You the law?’ enquired the man pertinently, ‘No? Thought not. Just worry about paying your own bill, never mind cross-questioning me about other folk’s business. We don’t care over much round here for those as ask a heap o’ questions.’

‘We need to buy a horse. Tack, too,’ said O’Shea, after a moment’s thought, ‘Can you help?’

‘That’s more like it,” replied the man, brightening considerably, ‘This is business. Come round back, I got the very thing.’

The man’s idea of ‘the very thing’ turned out to be a scrawny-looking beast which looked as though it was on its last legs. To hear the stable-man talk though, you’d think that he was on a par with the legendary Pegasus. O’Shea interrupted the man’s spiel to settle on a firm price, which was, all things considered, less than he had feared. Beggars however cannot be choosers and so O’Shea took the horse and paid about twice what it was worth. He could, he supposed, always sell it on when he got back to San Angelo. The saddle and bridle smelled of mildew and looked to Rick O’Shea’s eye like they’d been mouldering away in some hayloft since the Devil was a boy. Time was pressing and so he paid cash down for both horse and tack. Within another ten minutes, they were on their way north; heading towards the Reds.

It was pleasing to O’Shea to observe that the older of the two sisters had not once asked anything about the dealings which he’d had with buying the horse. She might be a tough one, but she had been well brought up. Never the less, from time to time, he caught her looking sideways at him; as though waiting for O’Shea to offer some explanation of the transaction she had witnessed. It was only right that she should know something of how matters stood, he supposed.

‘You don’t mind I call you just Jemima?’ asked O’Shea, once they were on the road, ‘We’ve no time for fancy manners.’

‘Go ahead. You’ve some urgent news, I see. Let’s be having it.’

‘The fellow that took your little sister might be coming after us. He’s not after her, but me.’

‘Why?’

‘That’s nothing to the purpose. The point is, you might have to take your sister home without my help. Reckon you can manage that?’

Emily Covenay piped up at this point, saying in an excited way, ‘We going home now, ‘Mima? I’m surely glad.’

‘Yes, we’re going home, darling. This gentleman is just working out some details with me. Nothing for you to fret about. Just enjoy the ride.’ Having said which, Jemima Covenay said to O’Shea, ‘You’re wrong, you know. We’re all in this together. You think anybody’ll want a living witness to this? You know it’s me and Emily, as well as you in the frame.’

Not for the first time, Rick O’Shea was struck by the coolness of the girl in the face of danger. He said, ‘Let’s see what comes, then. I only wanted you to know that I’ll do whatever’s needed to get your little sister home. I won’t abandon you.’

‘I already knew that.’ replied the girl.

O’Shea ran over in his mind the probably course of events. There could be no doubt that Jackson would team up with Yanez when he crossed the Rio and landed in Archangel. What then? Would the sheriff try to guy up his pursuit as some kind of lawful enterprise? Might he even deputise Yanez’ band of cutthroats and make out that they were a legitimate posse? That would perhaps solve everybody’s problems. Yanez would be able to kill O’Shea and then Jackson and the others would murder the Covenay sisters; pretending that they had got caught in the crossfire. He, Rick O’Shea, would be denounced as the man who had stolen away the child in the first place and then those bastards would even be able to collect on the reward being offered and divide it up between themselves. Following which, Seth Jackson would be re-elected sheriff of the county once more. Well, they wouldn’t get away with it, not while Rick O’Shea had breath in his body, they wouldn’t!

Jemima Covenay interrupted O’Shea’s revery to ask, ‘We heading for the Gap? That’s the only way through the Reds, ain’t it? Leastways, it’s how I got to Archangel.’

‘Well it is and it isn’t,’ replied O’Shea thoughtfully, ‘Truth to tell, I’m not overly keen on us riding along on flat land such as this and just waiting for anybody to come after us, you understand what I’m saying?’

‘Of course I do,’ said the young woman, casting an anxious glance at her sister in order to assure herself that the child wasn’t getting alarmed by all this talk of people pursuing them, ‘What then d’ye suggest? We’re altogether in your hands, for I don’t know this part of the county at all.’

‘I heard tell that there’s a path leading up and over the Reds, a mule trail or something of the kind.’

‘A mule trail? Why would you need such a thing, with that gap having been there time out of mind, from what I gather?’

‘There’s been silver mining up in the Reds. Lead as well. There’s an ore that the English call ‘Galena’, which is lead mixed with silver. Grey, shiny stuff. Anyways, I heard that there’s old mine workings up there. Maybe anybody riding the same path as us would miss us if they didn’t know which road we’d taken.’

The mountains loomed up in the distance and O’Shea wondered privately if they would be able to reach them before those seeking his blood caught up with them and killed them all. He said, ’We need to ride hard for the Reds. Young Emily, can you gallop that horse, do you think?’

’Course I can gallop,’ she cried indignantly, ’Tell him how well I can gallop, ’Mima.’

’Well, I’m sorry to cause offence,’ said O’Shea hastily, ’Let’s make for those mountains then.’

It was a fine calculation to make; forcing as hard a pace as possible, but without exhausting their beasts or, worse still, laming one of the mounts. Still, the three of them made it to the foothills at the base of the Reds by noon and there was still no sign of anybody coming after them. It was a matter then of finding the path which supposedly led up into the mountains. This proved surprisingly easy and Rick O’Shea was feeling right pleased with himself as they made their way up the winding, serpentine track which spiralled up the rocky slopes towards the ridge which was about three thousand feet above them. That was until events took an unexpected turn which caused both Jemima Coveany and Rick O’Shea to wonder if maybe the child they had rescued wasn’t perhaps destined to die prematurely anyway; despite their efforts. This is what happened.

The three of them were proceeding in single file, as their horses plodded along the stony trail. Emily had begged to lead the way and neither O’Shea nor Jemima could see any reason to deny the child her wish. To their left were slopes which led down to the gap, with the railroad lines gleaming in the midday sun and over to the right was the vast mass of the mountains across which they hoped to make their way. Emily suddenly and unexpectedly reined in and cried in an excited voice, ‘Look ‘Mima, there’s a locomotive coming along.’

So abruptly had Emily Covenay halted, that the other two riders almost cannoned into each other and at that same moment a shot rang out and Emily’s horse reared up, sending her crashing to the ground, where she lay; apparently lifeless.