CHAPTER 6

EL PASO AND ENVIRONS, 1861 - 1865

 

Miller went to earth as soon as he rode, under cover of night, into El Paso. He discovered gradually that the town was filled with Mexicans from just over the border and realised that it would be difficult to trace and isolate the murderers, but he was a careful, patient man, and he waited, and watched, and planned. After a couple of days the posse returned to Abilene, but Miller stayed behind. He frequented the bars and bordellos, listening, watching, and, little by little, pieces of overheard information slipped into place. He soon knew the names and faces of all the men who had ridden into town four days before him. Still he lay low, and watched, and waited.

The first quarry of the hunter was the second-in-command, the one they called Francisco, a swaggering, loud-mouthed bully who was easily recognisable. The difficulty lay in finding the bandit alone, but Miller waited, taking his own time and planning for every exigency. Eventually, a week after his arrival in El Paso, he was ready to kill.

Francisco always went from the same bar to the nearest bordello for the night. Miller waited silently in the darkest shadows. He saw Francisco leave the bordello, early in the morning, tired and sated from his night's exertions. Passing by a dark alley, Francisco never even saw the tall, dark stranger waiting in the shadows as the knife sliced through the carotid artery. Miller had killed his first Comanchero. With the memory of his son's mutilated corpse and what they had done to his womenfolk, Miller bent down over the still-twitching body and performed an identical mutilation. Satisfied, he returned to the shadows.

---oo0oo---

His next planned victim was the leader, Manuel, a man just as wily as himself, but Miller struck quickly, before news of Francisco's murder could reach Manuel. Dawn was breaking as Miller crept up the fire escape of the hotel that his victim was staying in. He had previously observed which room Manual was using, by looking at the receptionist's book for the room number he had signed against. The window to the room was slightly open and he heard the sounds of love coming from the bed. This inflamed his anger and bloodlust to fever pitch and, with catlike speed, Miller was in the room and the knife flashed and flashed again, as it went first into Manuel's back, then into the woman's heart. He performed his act of mutilation again, then left the way he had come, slipping like a dark shadow along his escape route and returning unobserved to his lodging house, where he cleaned up and lay down to rest - but the images of his dead family returned to haunt him.

Over the next week there was a spate of night-time murders which followed the same pattern - the victims were all the Comancheros from the gang that had ridden in two weeks before. One by one he picked them off. The gringos in the town did not complain.

His revenge completed, Miller slipped unobserved cut of El Paso and rode back to Abilene. On the lonely trail back, he realised that there was something else he was good at - murder and tracking of outlaws. On his return to Abilene, he went t the estate agent's and put his homestead up for sale. The ranchers, who had been applying considerable pressure on the homesteaders, snapped up both the Miller and Sherman ranches, and Miller found himself with money in the bank and no home to return to. He began to look through the 'Wanted' posters on the sidewalk noticeboards. "Yeah," he thought, "I can kill Comancheros, so I sure can kill some dumb outlaws." He chose the outlaws for the highest price-tags on their heads and relentlessly tracked them down. He became a bounty hunter, and a good one. When a poster said 'Dead or Alive', Miller made sure they were dead on delivery. His reputation spread as the best in the area but, as invariably happens when a bounty hunter becomes known, the hunter becomes the hunted, as vengeful friends of the dead outlaws made to eliminate this scavenger of the badlands.

Miller was riding through a high-sided canyon west of the Pecos towards El Paso on the trail of The Pecos Kid, when his eagle eye caught the glint of sun on a gun barrel a moment before a shot rang out. As he ducked to avoid the shot, a bullet grazed his side, knocking him off his horse. The horse bolted in fright but, as he hit the ground, he realised he was only slightly wounded. He had seen many men die before, he knew what it looked like and how it sounded to die slowly, so he began to thrash about as if in his death throes, gradually becoming more and more feeble until, after five minutes, he finally ceased to move and lay, face down and to the side, watching the walls of the canyon where the shot had come from. His act was good enough. Obviously, his assailant wanted to watch him die slowly. No-one came down to check that he was really dead. Instead, he heard evil laughter resounding off the canyon walls, saw another glint of sunlight on a gun barrel, heard the thunder of hooves as a horse rode away, then all was silent in the canyon. He lay there for an hour in the scorching sun, his wounded side aching and throbbing, his shirt becoming sticky with blood. His horse returned to his master, and trotted up, nuzzling his face. He staggered to his feet and, holding his bleeding side, mounted up and rode away. Further up the canyon he found a cave with running water nearby when he used to bathe his injury. He was able to find, kill and cook the local wildlife and he laid low in the cave for a fortnight. The fortnight of enforced inactivity gave him plenty of time to think about his future.

"Reckon," he thought, "them outlaws're thinkin' I've collected my last reward. Might not be a bad idea at that. If'n them badhats find out I ain't dead, they'll keep comin' after me till they get me for real. I've avenged my family's deaths, as I promised. Yeah. Pity them animals only die once. Anyway, supposin' I head into Tucson, get myself duded up, change my appearance some, shave off my beard, I'll not be recognised. I've got enough money, between the money from the ranches and the bounty, to buy a small house, good clothes an' things, maybe even find another woman. Hah. Yeah. Reckon I'll do just that.

When his wound had healed sufficiently, he rode on.

---oo0oo---

CHAPTER 7

CONTENTS