Bunsen poked the end of his Henry rifle through the creosote bush and sighted along the barrel. He could hear Tipo and his gang riding toward him through the pass. Bunsen knew these bandits well enough to be confident that if he shot Tipo and Noyo, Tipo's righthand man, the rest of the gang would turn and run.
When the first riders appeared, Noyo was easy to spot. The big man was wearing his black hat and the silver hat band glinted in the sun. Bunsen couldn't see Tipo, though and for a moment was concerned that the bandit leader hadn't come for some reason. He had to search the faces of the men before he spotted Tipo near the back and giving orders. For some reason, the man wasn't wearing his usual bright red shirt and he would be hard to spot quickly. Bunsen would have to shoot him first, to avoid losing him in the crowd of riders.
While Tipo and Noyo got their men ready, Bunsen could hear horses coming up along the trail. That should be the stage. He needed to time his shots perfectly. Too soon and the bandits would realize what was happening and come after him. Too late and the attack on the stage would be underway, making it hard to get a good shot. He had to act at the moment when the chaos would be complete.
Something nagged at his attention. Bunsen listened for a moment and realized that he could hear more than four horses coming up the trail. The stage had outriders today. If Tipo realized that, he might call off the ambush and wait for another day. Fortunately, he was cocky enough not to have sent anyone to serve as a lookout and the bandits milled around in excitedly without taking notice of the extra hoofbeats.
When he saw a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye, Bunsen risked a quick glance to make certain that it was the stage. It took a moment to realize what the dusty blue uniforms meant. In the same instant, Noyo yelled, "¡Soldados!" and one of the blue riders shouted, "Attack!"
With seconds, two dozen horses and riders were engaged in fierce combat. Bunsen sighted down the barrel of his Henry and his finger began to tighten on the trigger before releasing the pressure. "To hell with that. If the army wants Tipo dead, they can use their own bullets," he murmured before edging away from the bush and heading back to his horse.
In 1854, the United States acquired nearly 30,000 square miles, bounded on the west and north by the Gila River and on the east by the Rio Grande, from Mexico. This land on the southern end of the Territories of Arizona and New Mexico is arid, desolate, and broken up by mountain ranges, baking on summer days and freezing on winter nights.
The region's sparse Anglo population consists of ranchers, prospectors, and the residents of the handful of towns. These have an uneasy relationship with the native Quechan, Akimel Oʼodham, Piipaash, and Apache tribes, some of whom are not inclined to settle on reservations. Until the tracks are laid for the Texas and Pacific Railroad, the only transportation for people, mail, and goods is the Butterfield Stage Line. If all this wasn't enough, bands of Mexican bandits roam the border. Keeping the uneasy peace are the county sheriffs, the federal marshals, and the US Army.
Back east, this powder keg is known as the Gadsden Purchase, but the locals are more realistic.
They call it Hell's Furnace.
