The Wild Bunch
By
UCSBdad
Disclaimer: I don't own Castle or anything by Sam Peckinpah. Rating: K Time: The year 1902.
"How long do you think they've been there, Javi?" Rick said.
Javi looked up at the two men hanging by their necks from a tree.
"Hard to say. I doubt it's been above freezing around here for a month, maybe longer. Those boys look frozen solid. They coulda been hung a couple of days ago, or a couple of months ago."
"I saw a fella who got hung up in northern Luzon. Locals strung him up for stealing. He'd been dead for two days when we came through. It was hot as hell and humid. He was swollen up something fierce, but he hadn't rotted enough to fall out of the noose." Ryan said. Then he looked more carefully. "I'd say those two had gotten shot before they got hung. Buckshot in the legs, I'd say. That wouldn't have killed them."
"Should we bury them?" Javi asked.
Rick shook his head.
"You want to try to dig a grave in frozen ground? Besides whoever hung 'em left 'em out here by the main road into town. They wanted people to see 'em. They might get mad at us for taking them down."
The town was just over a small rise. Or at least it had been.
"That's the town of Silver Belle?" Rick said when they crested the raise. "I thought you said this was a fair-sized town."
Javi shrugged.
"It was when I came through in '97. Something happened, I guess."
"I guess." Rick muttered. "There are still buildings standing. We can get ourselves and the horses out of the cold."
They rode into what was left of the town. Javi pointed to a livery stable.
"We can put the horses in there."
But the large doors to the livery stable were broken. One door had fallen into the stable and the other hung by its lower hinge. The whole back of the stable was gone.
"The way the wind's blowing, the horses would freeze." Rick said. "But look around. Maybe they left some feed behind."
They searched and Ryan finally found three sacks of oats covered by hay.
"That's enough to get us to the next town." Ryan said.
"There's a brick building across the street and a ways down." Rick said. "Looks like it'll keep the cold out for us and the horses."
"That's the Silver Belle saloon." Javi said. "A good, solid building put up by a Jack Morton. Wonder what happened to him?"
They led the horses to the saloon and up a step and inside. They looked around. Most of the windows had been broken, but the broken ones were covered with cardboard.
"Damn! A stove." Rick said. "And a nice stack of wood. And some kindling."
"There's a newspaper here. We can use it to start the fire." Ryan said.
"Wait. Give me the paper." Rick said. "Maybe it'll tell us what happened."
Ryan handed the paper over, and Rick scanned it.
"The date is November 18, 1901, just over a year ago. Nothing else useful."
"Bad news." Said Ryan. "The bar is empty. There's no alcohol here at all."
"We can make coffee though." Rick said. "Hell. There's a horse trough right outside. We should water the horses and get some water for coffee. Javi, you help me with the water. Ryan, get that stove working. It's too damned cold in here."
Rick had to use his rifle butt to break ice on the horse trough, but the horses drank their fill, and Rick filled a canvas bucket with water for coffee.
Ryan had a nice fire in the pot-bellied stove when they got back. They hobbled the horses and fed them some oats. By then, the coffee was ready.
The three men pulled up chairs and removed their heavy overcoats for the first time in days.
"We'll get a good night's sleep here and head south at first light." Rick said.
That's when bullets smashed through the windows and into the saloon.
The men grabbed their rifles and dropped to the floor.
"Come on out, you bitches. If we have to come in for you, it'll be worse." Someone outside yelled.
"Yeah!" Someone else outside yelled. "Get your asses out here."
The three men in the saloon crawled to the front of the saloon and stood behind the brick walls. Rick peeked out just as another volley tore into the saloon.
"God dammit. You come out now, you bitches."
"There's five." Rick said softly. "They're passing a bottle around. If they hit the horses, we'll be in deep trouble. Javi, you drop the one on the right, Ryan, you get the one on the left and I'll drop the loudmouth with the bottle. On three."
"Try not to break the bottle." Ryan said.
"One, two, three."
The men rose up and fired through the windows, killing three men. One man was so surprised he just stood there. Rick worked the bolt of his rifle and dropped that one. The other one ran, but only got three steps before Javi and Ryan shot him.
"Let's go see who they were." Rick said. "We'll make sure they're all dead and then make sure isn't anyone else around. Reload."
Each man pulled two loose rounds out and reloaded their rifles.
They five men were dead.
"They didn't go past us coming into town, "Rick said, "so their horses must be that way."
They went a long block and found five horses tied up behind what was left of a storefront.
"Five horses, five people. We'll go back and look them over,"
They found that each man had a fifty-dollar gold piece in his pocket in addition to some silver dollars and small change.
"Four Winchester 30-30 rifles and one 12-gauge Winchester shotgun with a twenty-inch barrel. Good for close up work. Our friend with the loud mouth had two old Colt Single Action Army pistols, two had Colt Army Models in .38 long and one had a Smith and Wesson, also in .38 long."
"Can we go back inside and get our coats?" Ryan asked. "The sun's going down and the wind is really blowing. Then we can come back outside and take care of these boys and their horses."
"Good idea."
When they got inside, they found they had company. Standing on the far side of the saloon were five women. One was a beautiful brunette carrying a sawed-off, double-barreled shotgun. Next to her was a blonde in men's clothing, carrying a pistol. Next was a buxom Black woman, carrying a meat cleaver. Then there was an older redhead also carrying a pistol. Last was a younger redhead, carrying a butcher knife. Castle thought she might be the older redhead's daughter or granddaughter.
"Who are you?' Demanded the brunette.
"I'm guessing we're the people who killed the people who were after you. They called us bitches, something that women are usually called. And if you're planning to kill us, we take a lot of killing."
The three men had their rifles slung over their shoulders, but they all had access to their pistols.
The brunette pointed the barrels of her shotgun towards the ground.
"We're not going to try to kill you. We probably couldn't. All I have left for the shotgun is two rounds of birdshot, Ann only has one round left in her pistol and Martha's pistol is unloaded."
"There's guns and ammo outside as well as five horses. I'd suggest you help us with them."
The brunette nodded and they went outside. The brunette took the shotgun, and the rest of the women took the Winchesters. The blonde took the two Colt .45 Single Action Army revolvers and the .38s were divided up by the women.
The horses were taken back to the saloon. They found fodder in the saddlebags and fed their new horses and hobbled them.
"Are you army?" The brunette asked, noticing the men wore khaki canvas pants. Two had a blue stripe down the outside pantleg and the other had a red stripe. All wore battered army slouch hats.
"Not any more. Just got back from the wars." Rick said.
The war's been over for a couple of years."
"Depends on what war you're talking about. Look, I'll tell you our story, then you can tell us yours."
"Fair enough."
"My name's Rick Castle. My folks own a cattle ranch in northern California, up on the Russian River. They ran a herd of white-faced Herefords. 1897 was a good year for us and my dad wanted my mom to get something special for her birthday. He sent off for an Edison phonograph. It came all the way from New York City. My dad sent me to San Francisco to pick it up and put it on the train, so it'd be a surprise for Mom."
"Now we'd heard about the sinking of the USS Maine in Havana, but didn't pay it any mind. Havana was a long way away. But in San Francisco that was all anyone talked about. People were marching through the streets at night in torchlight parades chanting, "Remember the Maine, to hell with Spain." Bands played patriotic songs and politicians made speeches. Then we found out war had been declared against Spain. All of a sudden, everyone was trying to enlist. I got all caught up in it and enlisted in the First California Volunteer Infantry Regiment. I figured we'd go by train to Cuba. I'd never even heard of the Philippines. But before I knew it, I was loaded on the SS City of Peking and headed for Manila, the Philippines. That's where I met Javi."
Javi smiled and took over the tale.
"I'm Javier Esposito. My family is from Cuba, although I was born in Tampa, Florida. My abuelo, my grandfather, was a Cuban patriot and had to flee from Cuba in the 1860s. He went to Tampa where he began a cigar making business. My father and his brothers now run it. Some years ago, my father decided to send me around the US to find new customers. I was in San Francisco when the US declared war on Spain. I enlisted at once. I did know that the Philippines were a Spanish colony, but I was so excited, I enlisted in the First California, just like Rick. We met on the City of Peking."
"We didn't meet Kevin until we got to the Philippines."
Kevin continued the story.
"My name is Kevin Ryan. I'm from New York City, a bartender by trade. Now my father was a private in the Royal Irish Fusiliers back in the day. He told me if I ever went to war to not go in the poor, bloody infantry. Now things have not always been well for us Irish in America, but we were treated a damn sight better than the English treated us. So, when war was declared, I enlisted in the Astor Battery."
"What was that?" Asked the young redhead.,
"The New York millionaire John Jacob Astor IV paid for a whole battery of artillery to go off to war. Paid every cent out of his own pocket, he did. I had visions of riding in a nice artillery caisson. But it wasn't to be. Our guns were 1.65-inch mountain guns that were supposed to have been broken down into two parts to be carried by mules, the whole gun only weighing 336 pounds. Us Redlegs, artillerymen, that is, usually had to drag our guns through the jungles of the Philippines."
"We met up at the First Battle of Manila." Rick said.
"The Sham Battle of Manila," Kevin said.
"Why call it a sham battle?" The young redhead asked.
"Because that's what it was. The Spanish wouldn't surrender Manila without a fight. They'd be dishonored if they did. Or so they said. So, we attacked, the Spanish fired a few shots, and honor satisfied, they surrendered. We lost nineteen of our boys."
"But the next Battle of Manila was real." Rick said.
TBC