Rattler's Law, Volume One

by James Reasoner

  Willie grinned. "Thanks, Bear Knife. I-I guess I better get started back to my place."

  Bear Knife said nothing. Then, with a quick flip of his hand toward the south, he casually dismissed Willie.

  The farmer was still too terrified to feel relieved. All he wanted was to put as much distance between him and this band as possible. Hurriedly, he turned his horse and banged his heels against its flanks. It broke into a trot.

  Willie had gone less than ten feet when Bear Knife whipped the big blade from its sheath on his hip. Soundlessly, the knife revolved once in the air and then thumped into Willie Pike's back. The force of the throw was such that the blade penetrated to the hilt. The point plunged into Willie's heart, killing him instantly. He pitched off the horse's back and sprawled in the dirt.

  Bear Knife glanced at the farmer's body only long enough to take satisfaction in the accuracy of his killing throw. Then he gestured curtly to one of the braves to retrieve his blade. He looked to the north, toward Abilene.

  Everything was going according to plan. He and his men would lie low here for a few days, within striking distance of Abilene, while the warriors he had sent to the west struck a series of hit-and-run raids. Bear Knife knew how white men thought. The Army and the settlers would look at the raids in the western half of the state and assume that Bear Knife had gone there. The soldiers would hurry to the west to capture him, never realizing that he was waiting right under their noses.

  Then, when the town of Abilene believed that the danger had passed, he would strike.

  He would bring fire and blood to the white men and death to the hated half-breed, White Eagle Dandaneau.

  Lucas Flint had known from the start that it would be difficult to keep secret the fact that Abilene might be attacked by Indians. Once Sergeant Hull had let it slip at Addie Plunket's house, it became impossible.

  The next morning, an angry delegation of citizens stormed into his office and demanded to know what he intended to do about the problem. Flint looked at them with a wry expression on his face and wondered how these fine upstanding citizens had learned something that had been known only to a houseful of prostitutes the night before. At least one of these men must have gone to Addie's house.

  The marshal glanced at Cully, who was lounging in the cellblock doorway, looking relieved that he didn’t have to deal directly with these angry citizens.

  "Just take it easy, men," Flint said sharply, cutting through their babble. "I know only too well how dangerous this situation is, and I'm working with Captain Winters to make sure the town stays safe."

  "How can you guarantee that, Marshal? There's a horde of murdering savages on their way here," demanded Michael Green. The new apothecary slammed a fist on Flint's desk for emphasis, but the icy glare on the marshal's face made him step back involuntarily. When Flint was the marshal of Wichita, he had been tagged with the nickname of the Rattler, not only because of his deadly speed with a gun but also because his cold stare could freeze the blood in a man’s veins. Nobody could stand up to it for long when the affable pose fell away from Lucas Flint.

  "Winters's cavalry troop has been ordered to stay and guard the town until Bear Knife and his men have been captured," Flint said firmly. "The captain has been sending out regular patrols to look for the Indians."

  "One cavalry troop's not enough to stop an Indian raid," Emery Thornbury, the schoolteacher, protested.

  "We don't know how many warriors Bear Knife has with him," Flint argued. "It was a pretty small band that broke off that reservation in Indian Territory."

  Thornbury shot back, "That's right, we don't know how many of them there are, Marshal. This renegade force may have grown ten times."

  "I doubt that," Flint snapped, but he knew the man could be right.

  "That damned half-breed is causing this problem," another man cried. "If he hadn't come here, we wouldn't be in any danger."

  "Dandaneau's got a right to go where he pleases," said Cully. "You men have forgotten that this is the frontier. It's not going to be safe all the time. That's part of the price of settling it." The deputy's voice was angry but tightly controlled.

  Flint looked at Cully in surprise. He was no longer lounging against the door, and his face was cold and grim. It was rare for the young man to speak so seriously. Most of the time Cully seemed to worry about nothing more important than which pretty girl to ask to the next town dance. But Flint knew Cully liked White Eagle Dandaneau.

  "Dandaneau's not the problem," Flint said. "He's offered to leave town, but that wouldn't do any good at this point. We have no choice now. We have to wait things out. The Army is looking for Bear Knife all over Indian Territory and Kansas. They'll probably run him to ground long before he gets anywhere near Abilene."

  "I hope so, Marshal," one of the visitors said fervently. "We all do."

  The others muttered their agreement, then they turned and marched out of the office. Flint watched them go, unsure what they would do. As this news spread through town, people would either panic or stay calm. At this moment, Flint was betting on panic.

  Cully stalked to the open door, glanced at the departing citizens, and then turned toward the desk with a disgusted look on his face. He shook his head and said, "Those folks have forgotten what it's like to have to settle a place. Nobody gets handed anything out here."

  "Nowadays they sometimes do," Flint said. "I remember the old days, and you've heard enough about them to know how it was, Cully. But a lot of those men have never faced anything more dangerous than the general store being out of coffee. We need to remember that when they get worried about Indians." The marshal smiled. "Shoot, the thought of trading bullets with a bunch of Kiowa warriors doesn't appeal to me, either."

  "I just hate to think about having to rely on those men to help defend this town," Cully said.

  Flint nodded slowly.

  That evening Flint was enjoying a quiet dinner with Rose Keller in the Red Top Café. At the tinkling of the doorbell, the marshal looked up from his steak and potatoes and saw Captain Joseph Winters hurrying across the room toward him.

  "I've just had a telegram from headquarters, Marshal," Winters began excitedly. "They've heard from the officer commanding a patrol near Scott City. A band of Kiowa renegades attacked a nearby ranch and then escaped."

  Flint felt his pulse quicken. "You think it was Bear Knife?" he asked as he set his fork down.

  "That's a reasonable assumption. There hasn't been any Indian trouble in that area for quite some time, and Bear Knife's band has the only hostile Indians at large right now."

  Flint leaned back in his chair and mulled over Winters's news. Then he gestured to the officer to sit down and said distractedly, "Captain, I don't think you've met the town doctor. This is Rose Keller. Rose, Captain Joseph Winters."

  Winters smiled at her and took the hand she offered him. "I'm charmed, Doctor. I must say you're a distinct improvement over our Army surgeons."

  "Thank you, Captain. But I have great respect for your medical officers. They do a good job under difficult circumstances."

  "Granted." Winters turned to Flint. "What do you think, Marshal? Do you believe that Bear Knife has swung away from us?"

  The lawman took a deep breath. He wanted to believe it. Scott City was a long way from Abilene, and if the Kiowas were that far west, it was unlikely they would cause trouble here. But instinct told Flint to be cautious.

  "Why would he head west when the man he's sworn to kill is here in Abilene?" Flint asked.

  "We can't be sure he knew where White Eagle was," Winters said. "We're positive he tortured that poor Crow scout he kidnapped from the reservation, but that doesn't mean the man told Bear Knife what he wanted to know."

  Flint shook his head doubtfully. "Not many men can stand up under Indian torture, not even another Indian."

  "Is Bear Knife familiar with this area?" Rose asked.

  "Not that we know of," Winters answered. "He's spent most of his time in Texas and in the In
dian Territory."

  "Then perhaps he's simply lost," Rose suggested.

  Flint and Winters looked at each other for a long moment, and then the marshal nodded. Sometimes the simplest answers were the best. "That's possible," he said. "At least we can hope so."

  He had been doing a lot of hoping lately. All day he had made himself visible on the streets of Abilene, answering worried questions from the townspeople and doing his best to ease their fears while still being realistic about the potential danger. So far, that approach seemed to be working. The panic he had expected had not developed. A few men had told him that they were going to pack up their families and head east until Bear Knife had been either killed or captured, but Flint didn’t expect that more than a handful of people would do that.

  Now, with Winters's news, there was a chance that everything would stay calm and quiet in Abilene. Several of the customers in the cafe had overheard their conversation, and Flint knew that word of the Indian attacks in the western part of the state would spread quickly.

  "I'd best be getting back to camp," Winters said as he stood up. "I just wanted to give you the news immediately."

  "Thanks," Flint said. "Maybe we'll hear that Bear Knife's been captured in a day or two."

  Winters smiled and nodded, then said good night to Rose. As she and Flint resumed their meal, conversation was buzzing around them. Rose looked at Flint thoughtfully. "You don't look convinced, Lucas," she said.

  "I'm not," he declared flatly. "I'll believe it when Bear Knife is either dead or back on the reservation. Not before."

  He knew he was being pessimistic, but he couldn’t help it. All his instincts told him that trouble was still on the horizon.

  However, as the next couple of days passed and more Indian raids in the western half of the state were reported, Flint began to feel a bit optimistic. Several families did load their wagons and pull out, promising to return later. But most of Abilene's citizens went about their business as usual.

  At dusk three days after Winters had reported the Indian raid near Scott City, Flint was in Orion's Tavern. For the first time in days, he had begun to relax. He was leaning on the bar, enjoying a mug of cold beer while Orion spun a long, bawdy yarn that was punctuated by occasional squawks from Old Bailey the parrot.

  White Eagle Dandaneau pushed open the batwings. When he saw the scout, Flint was reminded of the nerve-wracking threat. The marshal suddenly tensed again, but he forced himself to grin when the scout raised a hand in greeting and moved to the bar.

  "Hello, Marshal," White Eagle said. "How are you, Orion?"

  "I be fine, lad," Orion replied in his booming voice. "An' ye?"

  "Doing all right, I suppose."

  Flint had not seen White Eagle since his battle with Harrison Hull, and he supposed that the scout had been staying pretty close to home. The man had to know that the townspeople would be even less fond of him now that they were aware of the threat he had inadvertently exposed them to.

  White Eagle turned to Flint and went on, "I've been hearing that Bear Knife is a long way west of here. Is that true?"

  "Appears to be," Flint said. He paused to sip his beer. "Winters's headquarters has sent several telegrams, advising him of the raids. The renegades have hit quite a few ranches and farms. There's no doubt that they were being led by a Kiowa war chief."

  White Eagle nodded. "If they keep that up, the Army will catch them. It's just a matter of time."

  "Do you think it's possible that Bear Knife's lost?"

  The scout was silent for a moment as he thought over the question. Finally, he said, "If it weren't for the reports that Winters has been getting, I would doubt it. But Bear Knife's never been this far north and east. I suppose he could have taken a wrong turn somewhere and wound up out there, but I'd lay odds he's figured out his mistake by now. He's going to head in this direction sooner or later—if he gets the chance."

  Orion laid the palms of his massive hands on the bar. "Enow o' this talk, lad. Kin I get ye a drink?"

  White Eagle grinned. "I'd like that, Orion. I'd like that a lot. I think I'll just have a beer, like the marshal here."

  Ignoring the dismayed looks that some of the customers were casting his way, Orion picked up a mug and drew the beer. Flint saw the looks and knew that White Eagle did, too, but all three men paid no attention to them. The scout wasn’t well-liked in Abilene, but Flint and Orion had never let public opinion stop them from doing what they believed was right.

  White Eagle picked up the mug that Orion slid across the bar and took an appreciative sip. He was just licking the foam from his lips when the batwings swung open and Captain Winters strode into the tavern, followed by Cully Markham.

  Winters came directly to the bar, gave White Eagle a curt nod, and then said to Flint, "Good evening, Marshal. I wanted to let you know that I've just received another telegram from headquarters."

  "News of another raid out west?" Flint asked.

  Winters shook his head. "New orders," he said.

  Flint noticed the captain's grim expression, and he swiftly leaped to the logical conclusion. "You've been ordered to pull out of Abilene," the marshal said shrewdly.

  Winters shook his head. "Not quite, but you've made a good assumption," he said. "I've been instructed to split my forces and send half of my troop to Hays City, where they will join the hunt for Bear Knife. I'll have to put one of my corporals in command until they reach Hays."

  "Why don't you send Hull?" White Eagle asked.

  "I prefer to keep Sergeant Hull with me," Winters replied shortly. "He's an experienced soldier, and I rely on him a great deal."

  The marshal sensed the real reason behind Winters’ brusque words. The captain wanted to keep Hull where he could ride herd on him. The sergeant obviously had a penchant for getting into trouble.

  The marshal said nothing about his conclusions. Instead, he commented, "I don't much like the idea of splitting your force in two. We still can't be certain that Bear Knife won't show up here."

  "That's true. But the officers at headquarters evidently feel differently, and I have to follow my orders, Marshal."

  "Of course," Flint said.

  "My men will be pulling out in the morning," Winters went on. "I'll continue to send patrols out to watch for trouble, but it's going to be more difficult now. We're going to be spread pretty thin."

  "We'll do what we can."

  Winters nodded. He said good night and walked out of the tavern. No one was surprised that he had not stopped for a drink.

  "Well, we didn't need the cavalry in the first place," Cully said with a cocky grin on his face. "Orion, how about drawing me one of those brews?"

  "Aye," the Scotsman rumbled. "But I'm not so sure 'bout those soldier boys. They could come in handy."

  Cully kept grinning, but he nodded slowly as he considered Orion's words. "You might be right at that," he finally said.

  10

  White Eagle didn’t stay in Orion's Tavern for very long. The resentful glances from the other customers made him too uncomfortable. He finished his beer, said good night to Flint, Cully, and Orion, then went outside to mount his horse. He turned the sorrel toward Addie Plunket's.

  It wasn’t much better on the street. Quite a few people were still on the boardwalks, and as he rode down Texas Street, he saw them staring coldly at him. He forced himself to look straight ahead into the gathering twilight.

  A large part of him wanted to just keep riding, to put Abilene behind him and leave it there. It was beginning to look as if the danger from Bear Knife wasn’t going to materialize. The Army would soon run the renegades to ground, White Eagle told himself. He wouldn’t be putting anyone in jeopardy if he left.

  Besides, this visit had not worked out the way he had hoped it would. There had been no real reconciliation with his father. The friction between him and Pierre was still as strong as ever.

  As for Emily Sweeney... He was genuinely fond of her, and they had a wonderful time together
in bed, but neither one had ever seen their relationship as permanent. Addie and Julius had become his friends, but that bond wasn’t strong enough to hold him.

  As he reached the intersection of Walnut and Third Streets, he looked toward the other end of town where his father and Katie lived. He had to admit it—Katie was the only reason he was unwilling to leave Abilene.

  From what Rose Keller had said, the impending birth might be very dangerous for Katie. Knowing the way his father felt, White Eagle couldn’t just ride out of town now. Katie would be giving birth any day.

  Besides, he wanted to see his new half-brother or -sister before he left.

  He rode slowly to Addie's, certain that staying in Abilene was the right thing to do.

  The next morning White Eagle slept late. By the time he awoke, it was nearly noon. He stretched, relishing the feel of his skin against the sheets, enjoying the warmth of Emily snuggled against him.

  She stirred, moving closer. He leaned over her and gently kissed her. Emily purred contentedly and slid her hands down his body.

  "I can't stay right now," he said softly.

  She lazily opened her green eyes and looked up at him. "Why not? There's no place you have to be, is there?"

  "I'm afraid there is."

  Emily stiffened in his arms, then abruptly rolled away from him. She turned onto her side and faced the wall. "I know where you're going," she said coldly. "The same place you go every day. To see her."

  White Eagle couldn’t deny that he had been spending more time at his father's house the last few days. Katie seemed to enjoy his visits, and he could keep an eye on her and make sure she wasn’t pushing herself too hard. Pierre had made several freight-runs in recent days, too, and Katie would have been left alone had White Eagle not gone to check on her. He had wondered if Pierre was trying to avoid him. If so, White Eagle didn’t really care. He was much more interested in Katie now.

  "That's where you're going, isn't it?" Emily prodded.

  He nodded. "I'm not used to seeing jealousy from you, Emily. It's not like you."