Apache Squaw

by John J. McLaglen

  Herne saw the Mescalero appear almost out of the living rock. He faced a mask of insane hatred. So close that he was able to see that the name of One Eye was correct in its way. Though the chief had two eyes, they were indeed of different colors. The right one blue and the left one brown, giving his face a bizarre skewed appearance.

  Gripped by the weeping Emmie-Lou, Jed hadn’t got a whole lot of options open to him. He brought his knee up sharply, feeling it grate against the girl’s pubic bone, sending her retching away from him, hands clutched at her groin. Herne followed that act of chivalry by swinging left-handed at her, catching her high across the left cheek, knocking her away from him to her hands and knees, bouncing heavily against the rough cliff wall.

  One Eye saw the one target suddenly become two, and the barrel of the Winchester wavered uncertainly. His finger squeezed the trigger, propelled by simple hatred rather than by any controlled motive. The bullet exploded across the couple of paces, splintering red shards of rock across the winding trail.

  Glean between the two whites, missing them both.

  ‘Die!’ screamed the Mescalero, levering a second round and aiming at Herne.

  ‘Die yourself,’ said Herne, having had the time to draw the Colt from the holster and cock and aim.

  It was his last round.

  It was also the last round in One Eye’s Winchester,

  Herne fired his last round.

  The Apache didn’t.

  The heavy caliber bullet was perfectly aimed, drilling through the left eye. The brown eye. Burying itself in the brain. The impact sending the Mescalero toppling backwards, his feet scraping, fingers clawing at the warm morning air in a dying effort to keep from falling to the jagged rocks nearly a hundred feet below.

  Death came before he could regain his balance, and he vanished from the path. Herne ignored the sobbing woman and looked down over the brink to where the body of the Apache lay smashed and broken. Even from that height, Herne could see the one eye gazing vacantly back at him, the other socket a dark blood-filled pit.

  ‘Good name for you, One Eye,’ he said. ‘Now you really earned it.’

  Chapter Eight

  ‘Mister Herne?’

  Emmie-Lou kept trying.

  ‘Mister Herne?’

  ‘My name’s Jed.’

  ‘All right. Jed?’

  ‘What is it, Mrs. Parsons?’

  ‘My name’s Emmie-Lou. If I call you Jed, then why won’t you call me that?’

  ‘I’m employed by your husband, Mrs. Parsons. I wouldn’t want to get familiar with the wife of the man who’s paying me two and one half thousand dollars.’

  ‘That much?’

  *Yeah. That much.’

  The horse jogged easily on, towards the Fort. Herne had taken her slowly down the path through the Devil’s Playground, knowing that the death of One Eye would mean the end to any direct pursuit. But he had no wish to risk being caught out in the open by any vengeful mounted party of young bucks, so he had taken a slow detour away from the Canyon, coming towards Fort Gilman near sundown.

  Twice Emmie-Lou Parsons had fallen asleep, until he had run a rope around her, fastening her behind him in the saddle. And twice she had begun to ask him not to take her back. But his response had silenced her.

  For the time.

  ‘Nearly there. Rest the night, and set off towards your spread first light tomorrow. Get a mount for you from the Cavalry. Guess that this time tomorrow and you’ll be back with Mister Parsons.’

  ‘And you’ll have done your job and gotten your blood money, Mister Herne.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am. Not your blood on the money.’

  ‘From what I’ve seen, I doubt it would have worried you if it had been.’

  ‘Deal was alive or proven dead. If you’d been dead, I’d have found a way of telling your old man ‘bout it.’

  ‘Truly that much money?’

  ‘Two and a half thousand dollars American. That’s what he reckons you’re worth.’

  She was quiet, though he could feel her arms still tight around his waist. When they got to Fort Gilman one of his first priorities would be a hot bath. Rid himself of the stink of gunplay. Blood and death. And the smell of the grease on the woman’s borrowed dress.

  ‘You’re wonderin’ how much it might take to buy me off so you can carry on runnin’. Reckonin’ if you had, say, three thousand dollars, that would buy your freedom?’

  Emmie-Lou didn’t reply.

  ‘That’s right, isn’t it, Mrs. Parsons?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘I’ll set your mind to ease. If you had it, which you don’t, it wouldn’t make no difference to me. I’ve got me a good contract to return you home, Mrs. Parsons. I’ll have done my part by sun-down tomorrow. I’ll collect my bounty, and ride on. Anything happens after that’s between you and your husband.’

  ‘You don’t know Lishe!’ The note of desperation was hardly veiled.

  ‘Nope. Then again, Mrs. Parsons, I’m not the one as married him.’

  ‘Please. Jed. I’m so grateful for what you did for me. Saving me from those fiends.’

  ‘It’s a job, Ma’am. Just another job.’

  ‘But didn’t it mean anything to you that a white woman was being…being…’

  ‘I know damned well what you was being, Mrs. Parsons. I always did hear that when it was inevitable, you ought to just lie back and enjoy it.’

  As soon as the bitter words were out of his mouth he regretted them. Thinking back to the seven men who’d raped and brutally abused his lovely young wife. She’d not lain back and enjoyed it. Nor had Becky’s Ma. She’d lost her life trying to protect herself from a fate that some said was worse.

  ‘You are a first line bastard, Mister Herne. I see now why Lishe hired you. You and he are alike. Cast from the same mold of ice.’

  ‘You’re wrong, Mrs. Parsons. And I’m sorry for what I said. It was foolish. I apologize for it. And the reason that your husband hired me rather than any other bounty gunman is that I’m the best.’

  Emmie-Lou was a little mollified by the apology, but still angry and upset. ‘And the modesty goes with the job, I suppose, Mister Herne?’

  ‘You kill as many as I have, Mrs. Parsons, and you get to know that modesty is a luxury that only the second-best can afford.’

  ‘They did awful things to me. You want to hear about them, Jed?’

  Emmie-Lou had decided that there could be only two possible ways of avoiding being taken home. One was to kill the tall, middle-aged man who had just plucked her from the middle of a closely-guarded Apache camp. The second alternative was to seduce him away from his duty.

  ‘My breasts are so sore and bruised from the way they came at me. Did you see them?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I saw them, Mrs. Parsons, and I’m right sorry for you.’

  ‘They are so bruised and painful. What they need is a gentle massage. If you weren’t a stranger to me, I might ask you if …’ she laughed, tightening her arms about his middle. ‘I guess you’ve seen more of me than any man, ‘cept Lishe, of course.’

  Jed made no answer, guiding the tired horse towards the distant specks of light that were Fort Gilman, wondering when Emmie-Lou would stop bothering. But she had a Hell of a fine figure, and it had been a long time since…A long time since anything.

  ‘I’m rubbing them better now. Holding on with my left hand to your broad back, while I touch my bosom with my right hand. There.’ She sighed, and the fingers of her left tightened on the back of his shirt, digging into his back. ‘Oh, that feels so very good. They’re really painful, Jed, but just running the tips of my fingers around the ends of them makes them stand out and feel so grand.’

  ‘Mrs. Parsons, I’d be telling lies if I said that I didn’t find you an attractive woman. And you talkin’ like that gets me all heated up, just like it would any man who hadn’t been gelded.’

  T can be taken by the right man, Jed. I want you to know that.’

  ‘That�
��s clearer than a bullet in the guts, but I want you to know what I think, Mrs. Parsons.’

  ‘What’s that, Jed?’

  ‘The right man who can have you is your husband. I don’t know why you married him, and I don’t rightly care. But you’re wed to him, and as long as you are, then you don’t have the right to go offering’ yourself to me as a bribe to try and get away free.’

  ‘I don’t have the right! You don’t have the right to tell me that. You don’t understand what I’ve been through! He doesn’t have the right to do the wrong that he’s done to me’.

  ‘Maybe. I guess that knowin’ don’t make it any easier to lose out, Mrs. Parsons. But I’m takin’ you back to your home at sun-up tomorrow. You walk in through the front door of that house, and I collect. After that you can go where you like and I won’t give a damn.’

  ‘He won’t let me go again. He swore after last time what would happen. Said that he’d chain me and...’

  Herne tugged savagely at the reins, pulling the horse up short with a whinny of protest. Eased himself forward in the saddle and looked back at Emmie-Lou over his shoulder. Closing his mind to the fact that the squaw’s dress was pulled open clear down the front and her fingers capped her right breast, making the nipple stand out blood-red against the white of her soft skin.

  ‘You stop that or I’ll tie your wrists behind your back! I’ve had enough of your damned whining. I don’t want a damned medal for what I done. I just want my dollars. And by God, Mrs. Parsons, I will collect them! I don’t want one more word out of you until we reach the Fort. That’ll be around a quarter of an hour. So hold off on the noise!’

  Her hand dropped from her breast, and she laced up the greasy dress to the neck, finding that her fingers were trembling. As they walked on towards the swelling shadow of Fort Gilman, she wondered about the next day. It was a long, hard ride to the spread. And Herne had admitted that he found her attractive.

  It wasn’t over yet.

  Lieutenant Pinner was waiting for them just inside the heavy gates, his face pale and anxious in the light of the torches. Beyond him, on the edge of the parade-ground, Jed saw a party of troopers on their hands and knees, working backwards towards the edges of the square, each with a small brush in his hand, smoothing the sand to a perfect finish.

  ‘Major still getting his priorities in the right order, I see/ he said, reining in by the young officer. ‘Oh, and this is Mrs. Parsons, who is tired and needs a bath. Get a couple of women to look after her.’

  Emmie-Lou hadn’t spoken a word since his angry warning, and allowed Pinner to help her from the horse. Despite her fatigue she couldn’t help noticing his look of surprise at what she was wearing. And the fact that she was so obviously naked underneath it.

  ‘Lady’s had a bad time, Lieutenant. Want her fresh and rested to be away before first light in the morning. Get a trooper to take care of my horse, and arrange a fresh mount for her for tomorrow. Want to be away from the Parsons’ spread before sundown.’

  Pinner gave the necessary orders, escorting Emmie-Lou to the married quarters, where a brood of fluttering women came clucking out to help her. Jed stood by his horse waiting for the young officer to return, suddenly feeling bone-weary. He drew the Sharps from its bucket and hefted it over his shoulders. His mount was walked away by a trooper towards the livery, stables.

  Pinner returned and stood in front of him, biting his lip. Absently making patterns in the sand with the toe of his boot.

  ‘What’s wrong, boy? I was there on time. You were there on time. I got out the woman. The ramrod…what was his name?’

  ‘Tanner.’

  ‘Yeah. Tanner, had been worked over by the Mescalero women for two or three days, so there wasn’t much I could do for him.’

  ‘Was he still alive?’

  Herne shook his head. ‘Not when I left he wasn’t.’

  ‘Major said he wanted to see you as soon as you got back. If you got back.’

  ‘I’m having me a bath first. And a few cups of some good strong coffee. Thick enough to float a Dragoon Colt on the top. Then maybe I’ll see the Major.’

  ‘It’s an Army Fort, Herne. He can make you.’

  There was something wrong. The Lieutenant was nervous and on edge. The former deferential politeness gone.

  ‘Sorry, son. Guess I didn’t hear you too good. You seemed to be sayin’ something ‘bout draggin’ me along right now to see the Major. Can’t be right, can it? Less you want to be the man to start draggin’?’

  He shifted the long rifle to his left hand and took a half-step back from the officer, letting his right hand fall, very casually, to hover a couple of inches over the butt of the Colt. It was done so easily and naturally that anyone standing five yards away would have seen nothing to it. But Pinner read the message loud and clear.

  ‘Very well. I have done what Major Corwin ordered, and if you choose to ignore that order there is nothing short of force that I can do.’

  ‘Not ignoring it, son. Just sort of delaying it a while. Go and tell Major Corwin I’ll be with him within the hour.’

  Pinner turned on his heel and began to march away, halting when Herne called after him. *You want to tell me what’s wrong, or do I wait for the Major?’

  Uncertainly, the young officer eyed him, his face a white blur in the evening dimness. ‘I … he’s very angry. Very angry indeed.’

  ‘Someone fart on guard duty?’

  ‘No. The raid today… There were heavy losses.’

  ‘Heavy…!’

  ‘And you didn’t fire the camp like you promised to do on the way out.’

  ‘Well …That’s …’ Jed rubbed his nose, using time to control his own anger. ‘I guess that maybe I’d better hear all this from the man himself. No point in you and me fallin’ out over it, and then havin’ to do it all over again with the Major.’

  Pinner saluted him and marched away without another word, and Jed went to have his bath. Wondering what could have gone that wrong.

  The water was wonderfully warm, and Jed had nearly fallen asleep, stretched out there in the tin bath. One of the troopers had brought in the coffee, and Herne had asked him about the mission that day.

  ‘Not my affair, sir. All I know is that there was a lot of good men killed, and they say that it was down to you that we didn’t wipe out the bastards. Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but you asked me.’

  After he’d gone, Jed dressed slowly, wondering how the Cavalry had lost men in what was supposed to be a routine engage and hold operation. No doubt Major Corwin would be more than happy to tell him how it had happened.

  Before going over to the Major’s quarters, carefully avoiding the sacred square, Herne looked in on the married quarters to see how Mrs. Parsons was. There too he was greeted with a mixture of active dislike and cold formality.

  ‘The poor wee chick’s sleeping like a babe after all the dreadful things she’s been through. And she doesn’t need you here, Mister Herne the Hunter. We know about you.’

  ‘What do you know?’

  ‘That where you step flowers die. That you’re something a mite lower than a rattler. And that there are three women here widows because of you. And five mothers’ll be mourning their sons as well, soon as they get the regulation messages. Good night to you.’

  He’d walked away from the angry little Irish woman, wife to the farrier, and gone to Corwin’s office, the cold rage inside him heating to the point of violence. If someone had blundered, then he was damned if he was going to be the one to carry home the blame like a dead buzzard strapped around his shoulders.

  The door was partly open, so he pushed it wide and walked in. Corwin was sitting down behind his desk working on a detailed plan with colored pencils. He jumped like a shot jack-rabbit at Herne’s appearance, his small red face swollen with self-righteous indignation.

  ‘Don’t you have the manners to knock on a door before entering?’

  ‘When I’m ordered to attend like I was, then I figure tha
t manners don’t figure in things. You busy workin’ out a new way of polishin’ door handles?’ pointing to the plan on the officer’s desk.

  ‘No. No, this is … the routine for the sentries’ duties now you have raised the South-West against us.’

  ‘You’re a whole barrel of laughs, Major. Come on. Let’s get this load of bull-shit over with. I’m tired and I want to get off your Fort as soon as possible in the morning.’

  ‘And I shall be glad to see you leave, Mister Herne. Sentry! Sentry!!’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Officers’ call. Here and now. And I do mean now!’

  While they waited, neither of them spoke. Herne hooked himself a chair and sat down, making sure his back was to a corner and he faced the door. Not that he really thought he was in any danger. It was just a habit. A way of cutting chances and living a while longer.

  Within a couple of minutes the entire officer complement of Fort Gilman was there. Two Captains and three Lieutenants, including young Pinner. The last of them to arrive snatched a glance at the detailed colors on the plan on Major Corwin’s desk.

  ‘Nearly completed the rota for collecting more stones to edge all the paths, sir?’ he asked in an interested voice.

  ‘No. That’s not…I’ll talk later about that. Please find a place to sit or lean, gentlemen.’

  ‘Sure you can take the time off from your... sentry duties, Major?’ asked Herne with a broad grin, pleased to see the increasing discomfiture of the plump officer.

  ‘I have asked you all here as witnesses while I talk to this man. He came here asking our help in rescuing the wife of Elisha Parsons, taken by One Eye’s men.’

  ‘A lady that you were prepared to leave in West Wind Canyon to rot, Major. Leaving her to the Apaches to rape as and when they wanted. Ask her what it was like. She’ll tell you about life in West Wind Canyon.’

  ‘Do not interrupt. I arranged for a large patrol under Lieutenant Pinner to accompany Mister Herne there and give him covering fire while he went in alone. That being the plan that offered most hope of success. In return, he agreed to start a fire in the camp in the hope of helping to abbreviate the stay of One Eye and his troublesome warriors. That was the deal.’