Across the Rio Colorado by Ralph Compton

action.
    â€œMy God,” said one of the cowboys, “what’s that?”
    McQuade laughed. “That’s Rufus Hook’s piano.”
    With some help from some of the other men, McQuade told the Texans about Hook and his grandiose plans for building a town.
    â€œI never heard of such,” Guthrie said. “You mean he’s got a saloon out here on the plains, with women, whiskey, and gambling?”
    â€œThat he has,” said McQuade, “and since you was kind enough to warn us about the Kiowa and the Comanche, I’m warning you gents about Rufus Hook’s saloon.”
    Guthrie laughed. “There ain’t a saloon between New
Orleans and San Francisco Texans can’t tame. I reckon we’d best ride over there and have a look at Hook’s rolling medicine show. If he aims to set up a saloon in Texas, he’ll have to get used to us. We’ll give him a head start.”
    They mounted and rode away, and after they had gone, Ike Peyton spoke.
    â€œThey’re a likable bunch, and I hate to see ’em ride over to Hook’s place. If they got any money, Hook will get it, and then have them shot if they protest.”
    â€œI wouldn’t be too sure of that,” said McQuade. “They’re all armed, and they’ve been fighting the Comanche and the Kiowa.”
    There was no further conversation, for McQuade and his people were listening for some sign the Texans had arrived. It took less than half an hour, and then there were no gunshots. There was shouting, cursing, and the sound of glass breaking. The piano became silent, and what obviously was a brawl in progress continued for some minutes. Finally there was the sound of walking horses, and when they were near enough, McQuade called out a challenge.
    â€œThat’s far enough. Identify yourselves.
    â€œGuthrie and friends. What’s left of us.”
    â€œCome on,” said McQuade.
    Guthrie and two of his cowboys were mounted. The other two were slung over their saddles.
    â€œDead?” McQuade inquired.
    â€œNot quite,” said Guthrie. “They jumped us, two to one, and just pistol-whipped the hell out of us. I don’t know how bad Pete and Juno’s hurt.”
    â€œIke, Gunter, and Eli, help me get these men off their horses and into the wagon circle,” McQuade said. “Guthrie, you and your amigos come along. We have medicine and bandages.”
    A fire had been kept so that men on watch would have coffee. Maggie Peyton set the coffee pot aside and hung a pot of water to boil. Ellen Warnell and Odessa Bibb brought medicine kits. Mary Flanagan was there, offering
her help, if needed. While Guthrie and two of his cowboys were on their feet, they had lost blood, having been cut with knives or broken bottles. Their heads had been bloodied, but they weren’t hurt nearly as bad as the two men who were unconscious. Their scalp wounds were serious to the extent that Lucy Tabor and Minerva Haymes had to sew the lacerated scalp together with needle and thread.
    â€œThese men need rest,” said Maggie Peyton. “Why don’t you leave them here for the night, so we can look after them?”
    â€œThat’s kind of you, ma’am,” Guthrie said, “but I reckon it’s our own fault we got all busted up. We wouldn’t want to be a burden.”
    â€œIt’s no burden,” said Ike. “The rest of you can stay, if you want.”
    â€œI reckon not,” Guthrie said. “Somebody’s got to take over the watch at midnight. If you will look after Pete and Juno, I’d be obliged. We’ll leave their horses, and some of us will be here in the morning, early.”
    Unsteadily they mounted their horses and rode away.
    â€œI’m sorry they went to Hook’s saloon,” said Maggie Peyton. “We don’t even know why they were beaten.”
    â€œThey didn’t talk much,” McQuade said, “but I’d say