CHAPTER 3 - CHISUM'S PAYBACK

Doc intended to leave and head back to New York so we left him to it, but he soon caught up when he realised we were being chased and if he continued on his present course he would run right into our pursuers and wind up on the gallows.

We headed for Beaver Smith's place and settled in. Billy sent some of his Mexican pals off to find him an army to ride with us and the rest of us put our feet up. Pat paced about, looking suspiciously uneasy, Doc fidgeted and sighed and Chavez twirled a double-bladed knife around his hand so that it looked like it was alive. I watched for a moment, fascinated, wondering if I would even be able to manage one twirl with my knife without dropping it or cutting my fingers off. Chavez caught my eye and glared back at me. I ignored him after that. There were more interesting things going on suddenly.

One of the Mexicans turned up with Billy's army, which consisted of one man. I grinned. A farmer, Hendry William French as he was called, admitted that he hadn't ever killed a man; some use he would be. I sniggered.

Then Pat announced he wouldn't be riding with us any more. He had decided to buy Beaver's place and turn it into Garrett's place - an eating house. Billy was clearly upset that one of his precious pals was deserting him and responded with bravado.

"We don't need you, Pat!" he cried.

I shrugged. Pat was decent enough as guys go, but I wasn't about to lose any sleep over his departure. He walked out of the place and left us to it.

Then along came Tom O'Folliard, a kid still wet behind the ears. Billy apparently knew him. In fact, I vaguely remembered him myself. I'd seen him outside. He asked if I was Billy the Kid and when I told him who I was, he didn't know me. Typical. Surely Billy wasn't going to recruit this runaway city kid into our gang.

"Who the hell's this?" I asked.

"This?" Billy clapped his hand on the kid's shoulder. "This is the prince of Pensylvannia!" he announced and proceeded to stick one of his guns in the kid's hand. I doubted he'd ever seen a gun for real. In fact he was so keen to examine it he pointed it at his own nose and Billy had to turn it away from him.

I shook my head. Doc sighed heavily. Chavez muttered something Spanish or Indian or whatever the hell else he spoke and twirled his knife around some more.

And so we were a gang of six - Billy, me, Doc, Chavez, Hendry and the fourteen-year-old kid, Tom. Six seemed a pretty good number really, but I still hoped Chavez wouldn't stick around too long. Not only had I taken an instant dislike to him, but he made me uneasy too and that was something I couldn't fathom. Maybe it was the damn knife tricks. I could imagine him slicing my throat with one of his blades while I slept.

We set out the next morning for the Mexican Blackbird, the secret trail that Billy had said only he and a few others knew about. It was to take us to Old Mexico and out of reach of the law.

"What are we going to use for money?" Doc asked.

"We're going to pay a visit to our friend, Mr Chisum," Billy said with a smirk.

"Oh, no," Doc said under his breath.

"Why, who's Chisum?" I hadn't heard of him.

"He's a big cattle rancher. Owns half of New Mexico," Doc explained. "The Tunstall Company had some trouble from him more than once."

"Well, I figured he owes us," said Billy.

"How's that, Chivato?" asked Chavez.

"Well, I ain't taken any of his cattle in a while. He owes me for my consideration." Billy hooted with laughter.

Chavez glanced at Doc and they both sighed. I just knew this was going to be fun. Billy always had great ideas and these other two looked like they were going to be stick-in-the-muds.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" I demanded, jamming my hat onto my head. "Let's ride!"

We reached Chisum's place a couple of hours later and halted in a row a short distance from his house. Neighbourly sort that he was, he came out to greet us and Billy proceeded to tell him we needed pesos to get to Mexico. He pulled out a sheet of paper and explained that he figured Chisum owed him two hundred and fifty dollars for fighting the previous year and two-fifty for leaving his stock alone.

"You can take your figures and shove them up your arrogant little ass and set fire to them!" Chisum roared. "I don't owe you a godamned thing." He went on for a while and pretty soon was joined by two of his Mexican workers. Chisum suggested the men fetch the rest of his boys. I grinned, wondering what Billy would do next. I pulled my rifle out of its holder on the horse's saddle and rested it across my thighs, just in case.

"Yoo hoo! I'll make you famous!" Billy cocked his gun as one of the Mexicans turned to go and fetch the troops. The man halted in his tracks. I wished Billy would make me famous.

"Mr Chisum, which of these boys is the fastest with an iron?" asked Billy.

"Don't you do it, Billy!" growled Chisum.

"That'd be me," the fatter Mexican said. Billy turned to the other.

"You! Drop Sam Colt! Put her down now."

The second man dropped his weapon.

"Step away," said Billy and dismounted, throwing his horse's reins to Chavez. He proceeded to take off his gunbelt and dropped it on the ground, announcing that he intended to kill one of Chisum's men for every five dollars he owed him. Then he walked off to an impossible distance.

"How's that for square?" he said to the Mexican. "Now, when I go for my gun, you start shooting, but I promise you, you will not make it." He spat in his hands and rubbed them together. I raised my own gun and covered the Mexican.

"Ready?" grinned Billy.

"Yeah, I'm ready." The man flicked the leather strap off the top of his gun holster.

"Dave…" said Billy.

Gleefully I fired, hitting the Mexican in the chest. He collapsed, dead before he hit the ground. I lowered the rifle.

"Oh, my God!" gasped Chisum, shaking his head.

"Four hundred and ninety-five," said Billy.

The second Mexican began to run for the gun on the ground.

"Hendry!" said Billy.

Hendry grabbed his rifle, but he couldn't get it loose from his saddle.

"Oh, my God!" he gasped and frantically tried for his pistol, fumbling with that too.

"Hendry!" Billy repeated.

I grinned and shook my head. What could you expect from a farmer who had never killed anyone? Billy actually looked alarmed for a second as the Mexican had almost reached the gun, but then a shot went off and he fell to the ground.

Billy turned in my direction and looked past me, his eyes wide with astonishment. I looked over my shoulder and there was Doc, lowering his rifle from his shoulder and looking just as stunned as Billy. I smirked. Maybe he wasn't such a bad sort.

"Four hundred and ninety," Billy said to Chisum.

Doc was apparently disgusted with himself, for he threw the rifle to the ground, turned his horse and galloped away. Billy picked up his gunbelt again, strapped it on and went to his horse. Moments later we were all galloping after Doc, heading for the trail to Old Mexico.