Free McAllister by Matt Chisholm

from above on the other side of the road. Across the kicking mules, he leveled the Henry and found that it was empty. Maybe the other fellow’s gun was also empty, for he did not fire, but came leaping across the downed animals.
    Mcallister lunged at him, using the rifle like a lance, catching him in the belly and putting him howling on the ground among the thrashing hoofs. A swipe with the brass-bound butt stilled his energies.
    The woman was beside Mcallister saying, “My God, my God,” over and over.
    Mcallister said: “There’s no chance. We’ve got to get out of here.”
    A bullet hit a screaming mule and killed it. One animal only was on its feet alive. Mcallister dropped the Henry, pulled out his knife and got to work on the leathers, slashing through them and expecting to feel the impact of lead at any moment.
    When he had the mule free and was fighting it to stop it running, he yelled at the woman: “Get aboard.”
    She screamed back: “No—no.”
    â€œGod damn you, git up,” he bawled. He dragged the terrified mule over to her and caught her by the arm. White-faced, she allowed herself to be hoisted up. It wasn’t easy, getting himself on the mule’s back, but he made it. The rifle above was still trying for him. Suddenly the mule staggered and screamed, but Mcallister jammed the spurs home and yelled at it. Though wounded, it didn’t need any second bidding, but lit out of there as if all the devils in hell were after it. Once it stumbled, but Mcallister kept it on its feet, holding the woman tight against him and using the spurs mercilessly. The animal rocketed down the road, hoofs clattering on stone and suddenly they were out of the battle and there seemed no sound in the world but the sound of their flight.
    Mcallister let the animal run for a mile, then as they came to the edge of the
malpais
, he turned the mule into the rocks and halted. Lowering Mrs. Bankroft to the ground, he got down painfully himself. Holding the mule’s lines with one hand, his other hand took in the woman as she collapsed against him.
    â€œThe others,” she said.
    Mcallister told her: “They got any sense, they’ll get out the same as we did.”
    â€œBut I can’t bear to think of them back there.”
    â€œI can bear to think we’re both still alive.”
    She backed off from him and looked at him in a way he didn’t like. But he didn’t have the time to worry too much about that. He had to get his gun loaded and this he did. Before he had got the last load in, they were startled by a clatter of hoofs coming toward them down the road from the wagons.

10
    Peeking Through the rocks, Mcallister saw that it was the lieutenant and the corporal, riding hard. He yelled and waved to them and they swerved into him and reined in their heaving mounts.
    â€œMein Gott,”
the officer said. “
Mein Gott.”
    The corporal almost fell off his horse and stood staring vacantly and wilting like his legs didn’t want to hold him.
    Another rider pounded into sight and they turned to see Sam spurring an army horse to the limit of its speed. Sam turned in as the others had and gazed at them with the bemused eyes of a man who has heard too many guns go off and had too many turned in his direction. He climbed down and said: “They got the gold. They musta had a Goddam army. They’re killing the mules now. Actin’ like crazy men. Who’d kill mules like that?”
    Mcallister asked: “Any of the others git away?”
    â€œCoupla sodjers holed up in the rocks. They should stay alive. Them bushwhackers left ‘em strictly a-lone.”
    â€œDid anybody recognise any of’em?” Mcallister asked.
    â€œYes,” von Tannenberg said. “Franchon. I saw him clearly.”
    Sam said: “If one of ’em wasn’t Clover, well I’ll be happy to eat my spurs.”
    The corporal was put on the edge