A DATE IN MEXICO

A NEW BEN WADE STORY

By Atonia Walpole

Chapter one:

She had him in her sites for some time. The rifle was becoming heavy in her arms. “Just a little closer, you blasted bugger,” she said quietly to herself. She moved and flattened herself out on a rock,  sighting her gun again.

Ben Wade paused and looked up the rocky face of the hill before him. “What do you think, Blackie? No other choice, is there.” There simply was no other choice. Behind him the train chugged on off to Yuma with its prisoners and guards locked in the cage. He began the careful climb up the loose, rocky hillside.

The first shot hit to his right, missing him by a foot. He was off the horse, giving him a push, and fell behind a large boulder. The second shot hit the boulder, blasting rock dust over his face. He got off a shot in the direction he thought it came from. There was nothing to be seen up the hillside but rocks and trees. He rolled down behind the boulder and began inching himself out of the sunlight.

“Damn and blast!” she gritted,  and moved farther up through the trees. Now he would be after her. She mounted her horse and pushed him up to the top of the ridge.

Ben had himself wedged between a tree and a boulder. His eyes scanned the hillside looking for anything that might move. He saw a bird take flight near the top of the ridge and waited. Three more birds moved out.  He reached for Blackie’s reins, urging him toward the ridge.

She had hidden her horse into the trees and managed to slip in between a crevice in the rocks, reckoning he wouldn't be dumb enough to come out on the ridge. There was no cover where she lay hidden.

Ben worked his way around the top of the ridge, coming out on the opposite side. He found the horse and picked up the reins. Turning in the saddle, he looked around him. He could just take the horse down the other side of the hill and leave the shooter on foot. He moved out with the horse.

Ben found a secluded area against the rocks and lay out his blanket and saddle. He removed his gunbelt and hat, placing them beside him. He was hungry but didn’t want to risk a fire until he was farther away from Contention. Taking the bedroll from the spare horse he had acquired, he checked the saddlebags, finding some hard biscuits which he soaked in water from the canteen

to soften them.  It wasn’t much, but would see him through the night. He lay looking up at the stars, thinking of Dan. It wouldn’t do to think on him, he told himself, and rolled over in his blankets, closing his eyes.

She lay in the crevice until nightfall, then inched her way out, trying not to make a sound as

she moved quietly to where she had hidden her horse. She stopped and began banging herself in the head. “Stupid, stupid, stupid cow!” Sitting down on the ground, she held her head in her hands. “I ought to just shoot myself right now.” But she got up, dusted off the seat of her pants and picked up her gun. She’d find the sucker. She had only been in the outlaw business for four months. There was much to learn.

She had inched herself slowly down the hillside, staying within the trees. He must have gone down this way, she thought, because she would have heard him on the other side of the mountain. The moon came out from behind its cloud cover long enough for her to see ahead a little ways. Something moved in the darkness off to the right, a rustling breath. It was her horse!

Oh, Nellie, she thought, please be quiet. Her horse knew she near. She crept closer, straining her eyes in the darkness.

The soft neighing brought Ben out of a light slumber. He raised himself up and looked around. All seemed quiet but there was...something. He reached under the blanket for his gun and backed himself up to the rock face. There, he heard it again! The horses. He edged himself around the rock toward where he'd tied up the horses for the night.  The spare horse had begun to stamp her feet. Ben flattened himself  against the rock and waited.

She moved quickly now that she had Nellie in her sight. She would just jump on her and run.

“Back out slowly with your hands in the air!”

She brought her rifle around, crouching down. A shot missed her foot by inches. “I wouldn’t be takin’ any chances, boy. Horse stealin’ is punishable by death. Come on out of there.” The man had a low, steely voice, the kind that meant business. She couldn’t see him so she brought her rifle around, looking toward the clearing by the rocks. Nothing but darkness. Damn and blast! Standing, she dropped her rifle.

Ben moved over to her side, picked up the rifle, and nudged her with his gun toward the clearing. It was only a boy. Boys could be dangerous, though, and he thought of William. Taking a piece of rope from his saddle, he tied the boy's hands together then pushed him down against the rock. He sat down on his saddle and laid the rifle behind him.

“What are you doin’ out here, boy?”

“You better look again, mister,” she spat.

Ben hesitated but then tipped her hat back off her head. A long blonde braid fell across her shoulder. He moved back quickly. "What the hell?”

This couldn’t be a woman! He’d never seen anything quite like her. She was filthy, she smelled, she assaulted his sensibilities. He narrowed his eyes trying to see her face but her stringy hair fell over her eyes and down the sides, hiding her features.

“Well, let me ask you again. What you doin’ out here stealin’ a horse?”

“It’s my horse, my Nellie! I ain’t stealin’!  I’m takin’ back what’s mine!” She raised her face, giving him a deadly look. In the moonlight only his outline was visible. She began to think what she could do and tried working on the rope tying her hands. It was tight and she couldn’t get hold of an end piece. He was just staring at her. She wished him dead and began feeling around for a rock.

“Who says it’s yours? I say it’s mine.” He settled back against his saddle and watched her. How could a woman get into this kind of condition. “You out here by yourself?”

“No, I got a whole passel of folks out here, just waitin’ in the trees to blow your head off.” She found something with a sharp enough edge and began to work on the ropes around her wrists.

“I believe you might have tried that yourself. Pretty good shot, but not good enough. I’m still here.” He smiled slightly.

“I’d a killed you if you hadn’t slipped.” She clamped her teeth together as she was working the rock against the ropes.

Ben tilted his head to the side, “Oh, I don’t doubt that you would have killed me given the chance. You still haven’t answered my question. What you doin’ out here?”

“Travelin’ same as you.” Sharp pains were shooting through her wrists but she continued shredding the rope.

“Why’d you take a shot at me?” He was genuinely curious.

She looked up. “You’re a man, ain’t you?”

Ben glanced up at the sky. Daylight'd be coming soon. “Yeah, I reckon I am, but folks don’t usually shoot at me for that reason.” He looked back at her wondering what in blazes he was going to do with her? Standing, he began gathering his things together, put on his hat and saddled his horse.

“You fixin’ to leave me here tied up?" she wondered aloud.

Ben walked over and looked down at her. “No, I think I’m just gonna shoot you and leave you here for the buzzards to clean up. Then I don’t have to worry about you stealin’ my horse.” He picked up her rifle and turned back toward the horses.

She was quick. Once she got one hand free she reached into her waistband, pulled a knife and dove for him. She caught him in the back of his thigh before falling down. Ben fell on top of her and grabbed her wrists. He twisted the knife out of her hand, making her cry out. She kicked and spat but she was no match for him. He held her down, one leg thrown across her body, her wrists in his hands. She had surprised him. He'd made a stupid mistake in turning his back on her.

Daylight creeping over the top of the hill began to bring things into focus.  He brought his face down close to hers and widened his eyes.  What he'd thought was dirt turned out to be bruises. Dried blood made a path down her forehead into her hair. She saw the surprise in his green eyes and twisted trying to move him. “Get off me!” she muttered.

“Looks like you might have tried this before and somebody beat the shit out of you. Git up!”

He eased his throbbing leg off her body and dragged her wrists up. He left a trail of blood

across the front of her pants. Standing with difficulty, he hobbled toward the rock and leaned against it, still holding her wrists with his right hand. She tried to kick him and he brought her wrists behind her back. He heard her shoulders pop and she grimaced.

“I never shot a woman but I ain’t sure you are a woman so I guess that’d make it okay in the eyes of the Lord.”

He had a deadly look in his eyes. “Go ahead and shoot!” she snarled. “It don’t matter anymore. I’m tired of being alive anyhow. Just take good care of Nellie 'cause she always took care of me.” She closed her eyes and waited for it.

Ben actually had pulled his gun and had it against the bare skin of her belly. He looked down. What the hell did she have on anyway? Still keeping his gun on her, he pushed her away from him.

She eased her arms down and rubbed her shoulders. She had on a man’s coat and vest, the shirt tied in a knot just under her breasts. She was covered in dirt and the britches she had on were tied with a piece of leather around her waist. Her hat hung down her back. Opening her eyes, she looked him square in the face. “ Go ahead! Git it over with.”

His finger rubbed the trigger. He couldn’t do it. “Not just yet. I need you to bind up my leg

first. I ain’t planning on dying with you. Bring me that rifle and make sure you pick it up by

the barrel. Now the knife. Turn around and pull up your coat. You got anything else, gun,

knife?”

She shook her head.

“All right, find something to bind up this stab wound in my leg.”  He slid down the rock and

sat, keeping his gun on her.

“I ain’t got nothing, mister.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Well, you better find something, ma'am, and be quick about it. I ain’t got all day to fool around here.”

She turned around, undid her shirt, and tore a piece off the bottom. Tying it back up, she moved toward him. “It wants washing off. You got any water?”

“We ain’t washin’ dirty rags.”

“I’m talking about your leg. It wants washing off before I tie it up.”

“There’s some in the canteen.” He watched her walk over to his horse, turn and look at him.

He cocked his gun and she turned back with his canteen. He moved his leg so she could get to

the wound just above the back of his knee. She took a piece of the rag, wet it, and cleaned the wound then bound the rag tight around his thigh.

“It ain’t deep,” she said. She sat back on her heels and looked at him, dressed in his fine clothes. “You a gambler or something?”

“I gamble with my life every day. Live or die, that’s the gamble. Today I got lucky.”

“The day ain’t over yet, mister.” She looked him dead in the eyes.

ON TO PART 2

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