He sensed a desperate tone in her voice, as if she had to reach out to someone and there was no one else. She raised her hands to the back of his head and pulled it down. He kissed her then, and in that instant everything changed. Christine’s lips burned away the hurt that Fran had left in him.
She drew back, whispering: “Dave, Dave, I’ve wanted that for so long. I’m a good girl, Dave. You’ve got to believe me. You’ve got to.”
“I do,” he said. “I want to. I want to dream about you, too.”
“Dave, listen to me now. I’ll be eighteen in two or three months. Fifi says I’ve got to go to work then. Not with the riff-raff that comes in here. She’s been saving me for someone big. An officer, maybe, who will set me up in a house in Cheyenne. Or maybe a rich cattleman or banker. Anyone who’s got money. I don’t know how she means to work it and I don’t care. All I know is I just can’t do it. I won’t. I’ll run away. I’ll kill myself if that’s all I can do.”
“She’s not your aunt, is she?”
“She is, though,” Christine said bitterly. “My mother died when I was born. She was beautiful and Fifi knew I would be, too. That’s why she raised me. The only reason. She says I’ll make her rich.”
“I’ll get you out of here,” he said. “I don’t know how, but I will.”
She kissed him, a short kiss that was little more than the touch of her lips against his. Then she said: “Please, Dave. I’ll do anything you want, go anywhere you want, if you’ll get me out of here.”
“I will,” he promised. “Send Johnny out to the barn. It’s time we got started.”
“I’ll tell him,” she said, and disappeared.
He stood there for a time, thinking. His pay never lasted through the month. He was sure Christine had no money, either. And he didn’t know where he could borrow a dime.
He walked around the house to the barn and found another soldier with Nero. Reaching the cone of light falling from the lantern that hung from a rafter, he saw that it was Hank Abel of Company K.
Abel said: “I was all set to go in, Allison. Don’t get the notion I was afraid of you and that tub of lard you came with.”
Abel played much the same role in Company K that Pete Risdon played in Company A, and the rivalry between the two outfits went back a long time. Many matches had taken place between them, sometimes single fights back of the stables, sometimes team affairs with three or four picked men from each company. Now, in the murky light falling from the lantern, Allison wondered if Abel’s presence here was sheer accident, or if it meant something.
“No, I didn’t have the notion you were afraid,” Allison said finally. “If you’re looking for a fight, I’ll oblige here and now.”
“Not now.” Abel’s meaty lips drew back from his scraggly teeth. “But, you know, it’s kind of funny about the Company A boys back at the fort. They’re all yellow. They keep telling us their best fighting men are out at the hay camp, but that’s a damned lie, ain’t it?”
“I don’t know,” Allison answered. “It strikes me things must be pretty dull around the fort.”
“Sure is, except for the talk about a big campaign against Sitting Bull,” Abel said. “A man’s got to find some excitement. Or make it if he can’t find it.”
“Maybe that’s why you’re here,” Allison said.
“You might say that,” Abel said. “I came to leave a message, but as long as you’re here I’ll give it to you personally. Four of us from Company K will be here Saturday night. We want the place to ourselves. We want all the girls and all the whiskey and all the dancing. If any sons-of-bitches from Company A show up, why, by God, we’ll throw ’em out.”
Allison sensed that Johnny Morgan was standing behind him. He made a half turn so he could still watch Abel. He said: “What does that sound like, Johnny?”
“Like a challenge,” Morgan said.
“I guess we’d better be here.”
Abel guffawed and slapped his leg. “Naw. We won’t see hide nor hair of a Company A man Saturday night. Yellow! That’s what they are.”
“I’ll tell Pete Risdon,” Allison said.
“I don’t want Pete,” Abel said. “I want you, if you show up, my fine-feathered cock. I’ll pull every feather you’ve got.”
He strode past them to the house. Allison said: “Let’s roll, Johnny.”
Morgan didn’t say anything until they were on the road and headed for the hay camp, wheels and hoofs sloshing in the mud. Then he asked: “Who’ll the four be, Dave?”
“Risdon, Jones, and me are three,” Allison said. “I don’t know about the fourth.”
“Me,” Morgan said. “I know I was too scared this morning to shoot at the Indians. I sure ain’t no fighter. But I want to try.”
“We’ll see, Johnny,” Allison said, and thought bleakly that if Morgan actually had his way, it would be three against four—the toughest four men in Company K.
Chapter Eleven
At breakfast, Allison told the rest of the detail about Hank Abel’s challenge. Pete Risdon’s eyes glowed. He turned quickly to Jones.
“What about it, Corporal?”
Jones sighed. “Seems to me there’s plenty of fighting men at the fort, but I guess we’re the ones they want to whup.” He nodded to Allison. “Like Abel saying he’d take you.”
“Well, who goes?” Risdon asked. “I can tell you right now I’m gonna be sore if you don’t take me.”
“You’re automatically included,” Jones said. “Me, I’m too old and I’ve been through too many.” He rubbed a cauliflower ear and grinned wryly. “But I guess I’ll have to go.”
“And Dave?” Risdon pressed.
Jones said: “How about it, Dave? You’re young and ornery enough to enjoy it.”
“I won’t enjoy it,” Allison said, “but I’ll go. Funny, though. We’re here to fight Indians, but instead of that we fight among ourselves.”
“Human nature,” Jones said. “I’ve never seen a bunch of soldiers who didn’t fight among themselves if they weren’t fighting somebody else. Company K would forget all about us if the Indians showed up.”
“They won’t,” Risdon said. “I hope Abel brings Clay Moore with him. He’s my meat if he does. I whipped him once and he claims I can’t do it again.” He rubbed his chin, then added: “We’re still short a man.”
“I know,” Jones said, his gaze raking the others. “If one of you don’t volunteer to fight for Company A, I’ll appoint a man.”
“I’ll go,” Morgan said.
“You?” Risdon said contemptuously. “Hell, kid, you couldn’t fight your way out of a room filled with solid air.”
“I won’t learn any younger,” Morgan said. “I figure I’ve got to try.”
“He deserves a chance,” Allison said.
“Then you’ll be fighting two men,” Risdon said. “If I’ve got Moore, he’ll be all I can handle.”
“All right, I’ll fight two men.” Allison shrugged. “Johnny knows he’s got something to make up for. If I wind up fighting two men, I’ll never open my mouth again about giving him another chance.”
“You won’t need to,” Morgan said. “I won’t deserve another chance and I won’t ask for it.”
“We’ll do the best we can,” Jones said wearily, “and it had better be good or we’ll wind up in the hospital.”
Allison had not read his father’s letter. He walked out into the April sunshine, thinking that he should have read it last night. But he knew exactly what the letter would say and he had put it off as he did any unpleasant task.
He squatted beside the shed and tore the envelope open. Then a shadow fell across the ground. He glanced up and saw Pete Risdon looking down at him.
“I’m cleaning out the stable and I seen you over here,” Risdon said. “Thought I’d come over and gab a while.”
&nb
sp; “I’ve got a letter from my father,” Allison said. “I haven’t read it yet.”
“Well, why the hell don’t you?” Risdon asked amiably.
Allison didn’t answer for a moment. Risdon had never made friendly overtures before. Ever since Risdon had joined Company A he had known he’d have to fight the man sooner or later for no better reason than to find out who could whip the other. Now here was Risdon squatting beside him, his ugly face as pleasant as Allison had ever seen it.
“I figured he’d write something I wouldn’t want to read,” Allison said finally.
“Why would your pa write something you wouldn’t want to read?” Risdon said. “Don’t make no sense.”
“Nothing does, I guess,” Allison said. “He’s a preacher, Pete. He’s honest about what he believes and what he preaches. He just doesn’t understand. That’s the trouble. He’d think I was sure going to hell if he knew I’d stopped at the hog ranch last night and talked to Christine.”
“Don’t tell him,” Risdon advised. “What he don’t know won’t hurt him. He’ll never find out how wicked you are.”
“He’ll want me to come home,” Allison said. “Stay with him. Go to his church. Help him with the farm work. I’m all he’s got. I can’t do it, Pete. I could have at one time, before I knew that there was another world Pa doesn’t know anything about. Now I couldn’t even take a wife home.”
“A wife?” Risdon looked at him as if he had gone completely crazy. “You don’t have no wife and I sure don’t know where you’re gonna get one right away.” Then his face took on the tight, mean expression that Allison had seen too many times. “Don’t never take a wife, boy. Women like the ones at the hog ranch are all right, all of ’em except that damned uppity Christine. Get ’em into bed and knock hell out of ’em. That’s what God made ’em for.”
Risdon stood up, his hands fisting and opening and fisting again. Then he burst out: “They oughta be killed. All of ’em except the ones we use for brood mares. What they want a man for is to have somebody handy they can hurt. They ought to be hurt like they hurt us.”
Risdon wheeled and strode away. Watching him, Allison remembered what Walt Staley had said—that some woman had hurt Risdon and made him hate all women. Well, Allison told himself, he had been hurt, too, but that didn’t make him hate all women. He opened his father’s letter and began to read.
Dear Son:
I have not heard from you for a long time and I am concerned about you. The newspapers are full of talk about an extensive campaign against the Sioux this summer. Apparently General Crook will lead one of the main columns against the Indians, so you will probably be in a battle before your enlistment is up. I pray that you will be kept safe and well, and that God will bring you back to me as soon as you are out of the Army.
I have built another room to the house so you will have one of your own. I’m sure you will be married someday even though you think now you will not. I talked to the judge about your reading law again in his office, and he said he would be glad to take you back. He says you probably have matured in the years you have been away.
I haven’t told you this before, but it’s time that I did. Ever since you left, I have been saving money for you to use when you come home. I have more than a hundred dollars. I have little need for money, so I will give it to you as soon as you get here.
The weather has been fine lately, although spring is late. We have had so much rain that the ground is too wet to plow, but I think I will be able to start soon.
Please write and tell me about yourself. People ask me about you every Sunday, but I am ashamed to admit that I don’t know where you are or what you are doing.
With all my love,
Your father
Allison slipped the paper back into the envelope and shoved it into his pocket. He would write tonight.
“Hey, Dave!” Morgan called. “The corporal says we’ve got to take another load of hay to the fort.”
Allison rose and walked toward the corral. He’d have a talk with Christine. She didn’t know much about him and he’d better know a lot more about her than he did. If they went back to Illinois, could they think up a lie about her family that his father would believe? One thing he knew. If they tried to live in his father’s world, they would have to live by his rules.
Chapter Twelve
Allison drove the wagon Saturday night, Corporal Jones beside him on the seat. Risdon and Morgan sprawled out in the wagon bed behind them. The sky was clear, the stars and half moon giving enough light to hold the horses at a good pace until Allison turned off the road and pulled into the front yard of the hog ranch.
Nero appeared out of the shadows around the adobe corral and took the team. Allison said: “Company K boys here yet?”
“No, suh,” Nero answered. “They ain’t showed up.”
“They’re yellow,” Risdon said.
“They’ll show,” Jones said sharply.
They went into the house. It was near midnight. Madame Fifi was behind the bar, the kitchen door was closed, and none of the girls was in sight. Fifi stared sourly at the four soldiers.
“You boys are late,” she said. “The girls are in bed, but I’ll get ’em up if you tell me who you want.”
“No,” Jones said. “Just a beer apiece.”
She snorted as she set the beers on the bar. “You’re the last of the big spenders, ain’t you, Corporal?”
“The very last one, Fifi.”
“Where’s Christine?” Allison asked.
“You’d like to see her, huh? Well, you ain’t going to. She’s in bed getting her beauty sleep like any girl her age ought to be. Now forget her. She ain’t for the likes of you, soldier.”
“Oh, ain’t she now?” Risdon said. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
“She ain’t for no private,” Fifi snapped. “She’s too good for your kind.”
“Saving her for an officer, huh?” Risdon sneered. “I sure ain’t seen no officers come out here to this lousy place. What are you fixing to do, show her off at the fort?”
“None of your damned business,” Fifi said. “Drink your beer and skedaddle.”
“Looks like we’d better find out about Christine.” Risdon glanced at Allison. “If you want to see her before our friends show up, I’ll get it out of this old bitch.”
Allison was surprised, as he had been every time Risdon seemed friendly. There had been several occasions like this since the morning they’d had their brush with the Indians. Allison had no explanation for it, but as he had told Johnny Morgan, there was no sense looking a gift horse in the mouth.
“I’d like to see her, all right,” Allison said.
Risdon swung around to face Fifi. “Where is she?”
“I told you she was in bed.”
“Then take Dave to her room.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Fifi screamed. “I wouldn’t take the general himself into Christine’s room.”
Risdon started along the bar, made the turn at the end, and moved slowly behind it toward Fifi.
“Hold it, Pete,” Jones said. “We ain’t here to fight women.”
Risdon stopped and looked at Jones. “Corporal, I ain’t sure this thing is a woman. Besides, I ain’t fixing to fight her. I’ll just beat hell out of her and then I’m gonna take my knife and cut off both ears and her nose. By that time, she’ll be damned glad to …”
“All right,” Fifi said shakily.
For the first time since he had met Fifi, Allison felt compassion for her. At best Pete Risdon was a brutal-appearing man. Now, he seemed more animal than man.
“All right, what?” Risdon demanded.
“She’s in the kitchen,” Fifi said.
Risdon jerked his head at Allison. “Go see if she’s there, Dave. If she ain’t, I’ll start to work.”
Allison strode to the door and opened it. Christine was sitting at the table, a coffee cup in front of her. No one else was in the room.
“She’s here, Pete!” Allison called.
“Too bad,” Risdon said as he came back around the bar. “I was gonna enjoy that piece of work. Get your gabbing done, Dave. They’ll be here pretty soon if they’re gonna be here at all.”
Allison sat down at the table and took Christine’s hands. They were stone cold, and her face was pale. She whispered: “Can’t you call this fight off? There’s no reason for it, is there?”
“No reason at all,” he said. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about. I’ve been thinking about you ever since I was here the other night, Christine.”
She smiled, then leaned forward and kissed Allison. “I’m glad,” she whispered. “I’ve thought of you ever since I saw you the day this place opened. You aren’t like the rest of the soldiers, Dave.”
“We talked about getting you out of here,” Allison said, “but not about what we’d do after you were out. Meanwhile I’ve got some things to tell you about myself, Christine.”
As briefly as he could, he told her his story. He did not mention Franny Knowles, but he put all the other facts of his life before her.
“What you’ve got to think about is that I don’t have more than sixty dollars to my name,” he said. “You can’t save much when you’re only getting thirteen a month. I had a letter from my father, Christine. He wants me to come back and start reading law again. He said he’d saved a hundred dollars that he could give me. But that’s not much, and it will be a long time before I can start a law practice and even longer before I can expect to make a living.”
She was leaning forward, her face close to his.
“What are you trying to say to me, Dave?”
“I wanted you to know something about me before I asked you to marry me,” he said. “We’ve talked before, but we never really said anything. You see, I don’t have much to give you, but I am asking you to marry me, knowing what little I have to offer.”
Summer Warpath Page 6
