Emerson Mead and his companions turned aside into the road leading to the Agua Fria ranch and drew rein in the shade of the peach trees. A woman was washing clothes beside the spring and a man came from a near-by field where he was at work. They chatted with the couple while the horses were allowed to rest in the shade. Presently Tuttle and Ellhorn remounted and started slowly back, leaving Mead and Harlin in the buggy, ready to go, but exchanging some last words with the Mexican. The road curved below the house, through the trees, and as Tuttle and Ellhorn came out on the other side they saw a party of horsemen approaching from the main road. At once they recognized John Daniels and Jim Halliday, who were riding in the front. Behind them came half a dozen others, and in the rear of the company they saw Colonel Whittaker with some pack horses. Tom and Nick drew back into the cover of the trees and conferred a moment over the probable intentions of the party.
“They are all armed,” said Tom. “Six-shooters and Winchesters on every one.”
“I’ll bet they’re after Emerson, Tommy,” Nick exclaimed. “They want trouble, and I reckon we’d better begin to give it to ’em right now.”
They drew their rifles from beside their saddles, for the men were still too far away for the use of revolvers. Then Tom looked at Nick doubtfully.
“Nick, what do you-all think would be Emerson’s judgment? You know he always wants the other side to begin the fight.”
“My judgment is that the sooner this fight is begun the better. Them fellows are out here lookin’ for trouble, and I say, if a man wants trouble, Lord! let him have it!”
He raised his rifle to his shoulder and sent a bullet singing down the road, saying to Tom as he fired: “This is just to let ’em know we’re here.”
The bullet creased the neck of Halliday’s horse, which reared and plunged with sudden fright. The whole party checked their horses in surprise and looked intently toward the clump of cottonwoods from which the shot had come. Tom raised his gun to his shoulder, saying, “You’ve started the fun, Nick, so here goes,” and he sent a rifle ball whizzing past Daniels’ ear. Harlin and Mead dashed around the house in the buggy, jumped out, and tied their horses in the rear of the trees. Tuttle and Ellhorn dismounted and dropped their bridles.
The approaching party paused for a moment in a close group and held an excited conference. Then they separated and, drawing their guns from the saddle scabbards, sent a volley into the grove. Four rifle bullets made quick answer and set their horses to rearing. It was some time before the beasts could be made quiet enough for the shots to be returned, and in the meantime bullets were pattering all about them. Colonel Whittaker stopped far in the rear with the pack horses, beyond the reach of the rifle balls, and the others made a sudden dash forward. Checking their horses, they fired a concerted volley into the trees. One of the bullets scorched the band of Tom’s hat.
“Nick,” said Tom, “that was Daniels fired that shot. He’s gettin’ too impudent. You take care of him while I clean my gun. Don’t you let him get any closer, but don’t hurt him, for he’s my meat.”