Rattler's Law, Volume One

by James Reasoner

  For an instant, Hull thought that White Eagle Dandaneau had come back to haunt him. But this was no half-breed. This apparition in the dawn haze was a full-blooded Kiowa warrior.

  Bear Knife...!

  The name flashed through Hull's mind just as something hammered into his back. They were all around him, he realized as he fell to his knees, driven to the dirt of the street by the blow. Somehow, the renegades had slipped through the patrols into Abilene. They had come for their revenge.

  Hull broke his fall with his hands before he sprawled onto his face. Trembling, he pushed himself up onto his knees. He glanced around, all thought of the wounded Emily Sweeney gone, and saw two dozen warriors surrounding him. To his terror-stricken mind, it looked like a hundred.

  But there was only one Bear Knife. The Kiowa leader stared haughtily at Hull. In guttural English he said, "Dog of a yellowlegs soldier! Fate has put you in my hands. Now you will tell me what I want to know."

  His heart pounding so hard it seemed loud enough to rouse the whole town, Hull licked his lips and then nodded. "S-sure, Bear Knife," he stammered. "I'll tell you anything you want."

  An unpleasant smile tugged at Bear Knife's mouth. "So you know who I am," he grunted. "Then you know, too, who I want."

  "Dandaneau!" Hull spat the name.

  "Yes. Where is the half-breed, the traitor to the Kiowa?"

  Hull's mind was racing. He wasn’t sure where Dandaneau was, but he had a pretty good idea. He and the troopers had left the beaten scout alive. Hull was willing to bet that when Dandaneau came to, he would have headed for that whorehouse. Hull grasped that hope. He would trade that information for his life.

  He looked around to see where he was. Then he said, "Dandaneau's at a house a few blocks away. You go up there and turn west—" He pointed up Buckeye Street toward Fourth and continued to babble the directions to Addie Plunket's house. Finally, Bear Knife nodded abruptly, and the terrified Hull stopped rambling.

  Hull swallowed and summoned up the nerve to say, "There's soldiers camped on the edge of town. I can show you—"

  "We know, dog," Bear Knife snapped, and contempt curled his lip. He looked at his men. "This one is not worth dirtying my blade."

  Hull thought that meant Bear Knife was letting him go. Well, he could stand a little disgrace as long as he was still alive. He started to get to his feet, ready to slip out of Abilene before the massacre started.

  One of the braves drove a lance into his back. Hull felt the blow, staggered, and looked down incredulously at the bloody iron point emerging from his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but a great gush of blood choked off the words. Sergeant Harrison Hull collapsed lifelessly in the street.

  With a jerk of his head, Bear Knife ordered his warriors to follow him. Then he turned and started toward the house where he would find White Eagle Dandaneau and take the revenge he had craved for so long.

  13

  Emily Sweeney slumped in agony against the wall of a building. She had never known pain that was so intense. She clutched at the wound in her belly, trying to stop the flow of blood that welled between her fingers.

  She rested her head against the rough wooden wall and closed her eyes as she forced herself to keep drawing air into her lungs. It would be so easy to slide to the ground and let death claim her.

  She was sure that Hull had fatally wounded her. She had seen men wounded like this before. But this death wouldn’t be easy, as if death ever could be. Emily shuddered as she drew a deep breath and felt the blaze in her middle leap higher and higher.

  Gradually, one driving thought began to echo deep in her mind. It cut through the pain and grew louder and more insistent. She had to warn White Eagle.

  Huddled in the shadows of the alley, she had not seen the confrontation between Hull and Bear Knife, but she had heard the Kiowa ask questions and had heard Hull's craven, desperate answers. And she had also heard something—a lance, perhaps—being driven into flesh. It had been followed by a gasp, and Emily knew without looking that the renegades had killed Hull. It was what he deserved, she thought grimly.

  She suspected the Indians were gone. Everything had been quiet for a while. She had feared they would come after her once they had finished with Hull, but no one had bothered her. Either they had not noticed where she was hiding, or they didn’t think she was a threat.

  None of that mattered now. She knew what she had to do. She had been given a chance, and she would seize it.

  She took one faltering step away from the wall and almost fell. Dizzily, she flung out one arm for balance and touched the wooden planks. After a moment, the world began to slow its insane spinning, and the ground felt more solid under her feet. She forced herself to move them—one step, then another, and another. Every time her foot touched the ground, fresh pain racked her. Slipping from the shadows of the alley, she saw Hull's body sprawled in the street, a huge bloodstain on the back. The sight gave her no satisfaction.

  Despite the pain, she began to run. She had no time to waste if she was going to warn everyone at Addie's. If she didn’t get there before the Indians, she knew all of them would die. Not just White Eagle, but Addie and Julius and all the women who, if not really her friends, were at least her professional sisters.

  The dark red stain on the front of her dress was growing, but Emily kept running.

  At Addie Plunket's, Julius had followed Addie's orders and found a sheet to cover the unconscious man on the sofa. They had done all they could for White Eagle. Addie chewed her lower lip as she looked down at the scout. She wished that Emily would hurry back with Pierre. Pierre would know what to do. He always did.

  When Pierre Dandaneau had arrived in Abilene several years earlier, the house had been on the verge of going out of business. He had money to spend, and Addie had been glad to take it. She had discovered, though, that Pierre wasn’t content to spend his cash in the usual way. He wanted to buy into the business. Addie had allowed herself to be persuaded, and it wasn’t long before Pierre owned the establishment. He had funneled a small fortune into the place. It was only right that he control it as well. Addie had never asked where the money came from. She hadn’t wanted to know.

  But ever since that time, she had turned to Pierre for advice, for action when it was needed. It was required now, and she wished he were here.

  White Eagle let out a groan.

  Julius, who had been sitting in a chair, stood up quickly and hurried to the sofa. "He's coming to," he said as he watched White Eagle's head toss from side to side. The scout shifted and moaned once more.

  Addie knelt beside the sofa. "It's all right, White Eagle," she said in a gentle voice. "You're safe now. You're here at my house."

  White Eagle's eyes stayed closed, but his mouth opened. "Em-Emily...?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

  "No, it's me, Addie. Julius's here, too. Emily has gone for your pa."

  White Eagle began to blink, and finally he opened his bloodshot eyes. He peered fuzzily at Addie and Julius and mumbled, "Emily...gone for my pa?"

  "That's right."

  For a long moment, White Eagle was silent. Then, to Addie and Julius's astonishment, he began to laugh. He winced as the laughter shook him, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

  At last the spasms subsided, and White Eagle said weakly, "You don't really think Pa gives a damn, do you?"

  Addie frowned. "He might just surprise you, you know."

  White Eagle shook his head. "Nothing Pierre Dandaneau does surprises me anymore."

  He started trying to pull himself into a sitting position. Addie warned him not to exert himself, but he waved away her words of caution. "Give me a hand, Julius," he said. The black man slipped an arm around his shoulders and supported him as White Eagle sat up. The scout clutched the sheet around him and went on, "I could use my clothes."

  "What for?" Addie demanded. "You're not going anywhere."

  "Yes, I am." White Eagle nodded, more to himself than to them. "Got to find another place to stay
. Can't live here anymore..."

  He was delirious, Addie suddenly realized.

  White Eagle swung his legs off the sofa and leaned forward, pausing to catch his balance before he tried to stand up. "If you won't get my clothes, I'll get them myself," he declared.

  "Help him get his clothes on," Addie told Julius. When he looked dubiously at her, she snapped, "It's better than having him staggering around, probably falling, and hurting himself even more."

  Julius nodded. He retrieved White Eagle's buckskins from the floor where he had dropped them and started gently easing them on the dazed scout.

  When White Eagle was dressed, Addie brought him a glass of whiskey. She didn’t know if he should be drinking in his condition, but the alcohol might help dull the pain. White Eagle swallowed greedily, shuddered, then winced. When he looked up and met Addie's gaze, his eyes were clearer and more alert.

  "Thank you for helping me," he said. "I ran into Sergeant Hull again."

  "We figured as much," Julius grunted. "He had help, too, didn't he?"

  "He had...a few friends with him," White Eagle admitted with a tight grin. He held one hand across his middle, keeping pressure on it so that the pain couldn’t overwhelm him. Having his ribs bound had probably saved him from even worse injury. "I think I'll be all right, though."

  "Yes, in a month or so," Addie said dryly.

  White Eagle held out his empty glass. "Maybe a little sooner if I could have some more of that."

  As Julius grinned and picked up the whiskey bottle, something thumped against the front door.

  Addie's head snapped up. If Emily were back with Pierre, she wouldn’t have knocked. She would have just come in. But that had not sounded like someone knocking. It had been more like something falling—

  "Something's out there," she said tensely. "I'll go see what it is."

  "Wait a minute," White Eagle said. "Maybe it's Hull coming to cause more trouble."

  Julius stood up. "I'll go check, Miz Addie."

  Before either of them could stop him, Julius strode into the foyer and went to the front door. His fists were bunched and ready, and he looked like he would relish the opportunity to trade punches with Harrison Hull. White Eagle forced himself to his feet and went to the parlor doorway. Addie hovered beside him.

  As Julius jerked open the front door, all three of them were surprised once more in this long night of horror.

  Emily's huddled body fell heavily onto the carpeted floor and twisted to land on her back. Her hands were laced together over her stomach, and a huge bloodstain was spread around them.

  "Emily!" White Eagle cried. Addie was too shocked to utter a sound.

  Julius dropped to his knees beside Emily as White Eagle shakily rushed forward. The black man carefully lifted Emily's hands from her belly. He grimaced as he looked at the wound.

  "Somebody tore her open with a knife," he said, and glanced up at White Eagle.

  "Well, do something for her!" White Eagle exclaimed.

  Slowly, Julius shook his head. "There's nothing I can do, nothing anybody can do," he said solemnly. "She's lost too much blood, Mr. Dandaneau."

  White Eagle knelt beside her, his own pain forgotten. Addie moved behind him and peered over his shoulder at Emily's ashen face. With Julius's help, the scout slipped an arm around Emily's shoulders and lifted her so that her head was pillowed on his lap.

  Her eyes flickered open, and she looked up at White Eagle. In a voice that was little more than a whisper, she said, "You...you're all right..."

  "I'm fine," White Eagle told her. He had forgotten about the pounding in his head, the bands of pain around his torso. All his attention was focused on Emily. "Who did this to you?"

  Emily licked her lips. "H-Hull..."

  Fury surged through White Eagle. "Hull! I'll kill him!"

  Emily's fingers plucked weakly at his sleeve. "I...I've got to tell you—"

  "Just rest right now," White Eagle broke in. "We'll get help for you."

  Emily shook her head and drew on all her reserves. "Listen...to me...dammit!" she gasped. "There's an Indian...coming here...Hull told him where to find you... He killed Hull—"

  "Hull's dead? Who did it?"

  "B-Bear...Knife...I think that's what Hull called him..."

  A shudder went through her body, and blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Her green eyes stared at White Eagle, and he saw death in them. He wanted to lift her to his chest, crush her against him.

  "I...love..." Her final words were a soft breath. Then she was silent, and her eyes stared sightlessly at the foyer ceiling.

  A heart-wrenching spasm tore through White Eagle. He closed his eyes and dropped his head. He had thought there was no real love between him and this soiled dove called Emily. He had been wrong.

  But Bear Knife was on his way, and he had no time to dwell on regrets. He opened his eyes and looked up to meet Julius's grim gaze. "You and the others have to get out of here, fast," White Eagle said. "Bear Knife and his renegades will be here any minute."

  Julius shook his head, and Addie put a hand on White Eagle's shoulder. "What about you?" she asked.

  "I'll stay here," White Eagle said bleakly, all emotion gone from his voice. "I can hold them off for a few minutes, give you a chance to get away and warn the town."

  "Not by yourself," Julius declared. He stood up. "Come on, Miz Addie. You go rouse the girls and get them out of here."

  "We...we can't just leave you two here—" Addie began.

  "That's all you can do," White Eagle said. He eased Emily's head onto the carpet and stood up. He turned to Julius. "Have you got some rifles here?"

  The black man nodded. "I'll fetch them."

  Addie started to protest, but White Eagle stopped her with a shake of his head. "Bear Knife will kill all of you if you don't get out of here," he said grimly. "You don't want that happening to your girls, do you?"

  Addie shook her head. Her eyes glistened with tears. "I'll go get them," she said.

  She hurried up the stairs while Julius came back to the foyer. He was carrying several rifles and a couple of boxes of ammunition. "It looks like you were expecting trouble," White Eagle commented.

  "Nope," Julius said with a shake of his head. "I don't believe in being caught by surprise."

  White Eagle's mouth stretched in a humorless grin as he took one of the Winchesters from Julius and began to load it. When they had filled all the magazines, White Eagle leaned the last of the rifles against the wall and bent to pick up Emily. Cradling her body in his arms, he carried her into the parlor and lay her on the sofa where he had rested earlier. He knew he was operating on sheer willpower, refusing to acknowledge the pain that wracked his body.

  He pulled the sheet over Emily and lingered long enough to gently stroke her cheek. Then he returned to the foyer, picked up two rifles, and moved to the windows in the parlor. Flicking the heavy curtain aside, he peered outside. In the early morning light, he could see no one moving on the street.

  Addie stepped into the parlor and said, "The girls and the few customers who were here are leaving through the back door right now, White Eagle. Julius looked around first and didn't see anyone, so maybe we'll make it."

  White Eagle turned from the window. He reached out and took Addie's hand. "Good luck," he said fervently. "I'm sorry I brought you this trouble. I never should have come to Abilene."

  Addie smiled. "Hell. You've made things interesting." She squeezed his hand and then hurried down the hall toward the kitchen and the back door.

  Looking out the window, White Eagle scanned the early morning shadows on the street. A few minutes later, Julius joined him and said, "I think Addie and the others got away all right. I kept an eye on them until they slipped over to Elm Street. Addie said she'd tell Marshal Flint what's happening."

  "Once Bear Knife gets here, I've got a feeling Flint will know what's going on," White Eagle said grimly.

  He had barely spoken the words when a bullet punched thr
ough the window, shattering it and spraying glass across the room. White Eagle ducked instinctively, then crouched below the sill. He edged his head up as a rifle cracked in the street. Another slug thudded into the outside wall of the house.

  White Eagle saw the warriors advancing toward the house, scurrying from tree to tree. He stood up, flung the Winchester to his shoulder, and squeezed off a shot. The bullet whined beside one of the running shadows, close enough to make the brave throw himself to the ground and hunt for cover. White Eagle searched for Bear Knife but didn’t see the Kiowa leader. But he knew he was out there.

  Julius crouched at another window. Taking deliberate aim, he fired twice, then said, "We'd better make our shots count. Looks like there are quite a few of them."

  As he watched for another target, White Eagle nodded. He had seen eight or nine warriors, which meant there were at least twice that many. He and Julius couldn’t hold out for long. They would be killed—but he would make Bear Knife pay a high price first.

  Cully Markham was in the marshal's office when the shooting started. He had been on duty since midnight, and he was tired. But the sound of gunfire coming from somewhere north of Texas Street instantly galvanized him. He ran from the office and vaulted onto his pinto, which was tied at the hitchrack.

  Spurring the horse to a run, Cully galloped down Texas Street. A few people were on the boardwalk, and they gaped at the deputy as he flashed by. Cully tried to pinpoint the location of the shooting. There was a lot of it now, rifles cracking with ominous regularity.

  As Cully reached the intersection of Texas and Walnut, he saw Lucas Flint running down the boardwalk, heading in the same direction as his deputy. Flint was hatless. His shirttail flapped outside his pants. But his gun belt was strapped on, and the Colt was in his hand. He lifted his other arm to hail Cully.

  Cully reined in next to the boardwalk. Flint rasped, "Where's the shooting coming from?"

  Cully started to shake his head, then instead he pointed up Walnut Street. "I'd say it's coming from up there a few blocks."