by Paul Green
‘I hear you and Mrs Sloane are gonna be headin’ off to San Antonio,’ remarked Johnson as he helped Harrison store the stolen money in the supply wagon.
‘That’s right, I might decide to settle down there.’
‘You can get the stage to San Antonio if you want to. It stops at Benficklin on the return journey from El Paso.’
‘Benficklin, where’s that?’
‘It’s five miles from Fort Concho, across the river from San Angela. Folks in San Angela ain’t too pleased now Benficklin’s the county seat but it makes sense. There’s a spring, a post office and the headquarters of the stage company runnin’ the mail route there.’
‘I might just do that. I’m getting tired of sitting on a horse all day.’
‘Well, just another two days of it to go. Then you can get on that coach and forget all your troubles.’
Maggie smiled knowingly when Harrison told her of his plan. ‘I already thought the same thing. By all accounts Benficklin’s a more respectable place than San Angela anyway, a much nicer place to stay while we wait for the stage.’
‘You seem to have it all worked out.’
‘Of course I do, John. I’m a woman, aren’t I? Besides, we’re safe now; what else can go wrong?’
Harrison wondered about that. They were still a long way from Fort Concho.
CHAPTER TEN
Bleary-eyed, they set off again at dawn. As the morning passed the light breeze that had been stirring grew stronger until it was a wind that whistled through the canvas awning of the supply wagon and blew sand up into their faces. Johnson pointed to a cloud against the horizon, no bigger than a man’s hand.
‘There’s a sandstorm comin’ and we’re headed right into it.’
Harrison looked around him, but there was no sign of anywhere they might shelter. ‘We don’t appear to have much choice.’
‘You’re right, ain’t no canyon for miles around.’
Harrison urged Maggie to seek shelter from the wind. She sighed, then muttered something about not being made of china but reluctantly agreed to ride in the wagon for a time. As she settled down among the sacks and barrels he assured her that it would not be for long, then he rejoined the column beside Johnson. The wind seemed to blow more strongly with every step and as the sand was whipped up it became increasingly difficult to see. They tied handkerchiefs around their mouths and bound their hats on to their heads with scarves as they inched forward. They gave up trying to speak to one another as their muffled voices were lost in the howling gale, but still they trudged on.
Eventually Kinsella held up his sword to call a halt. The message was passed down the line as most of them could no longer see the front of the column. Further gestures indicated that they were to move the four wagons round in a circle and shelter inside it as best they could, it being impossible to continue any further. While this was being done a wheel splintered and came off the main supply wagon so that it lurched dangerously and almost fell sideways on to the ground. Maggie stumbled out of the back and Harrison hurried over to her, but she indicated that she was unhurt.
Men and their horses huddled inside the ring of wagons for over an hour while the sandstorm raged about them. The shelter was woefully inadequate and a sigh of relief swept through the column when the wind eventually died down. As they coughed and sneezed, dusting themselves down as best they could, it was time to survey the damage. The wheel was broken and the axle also appeared to have been damaged. Kinsella stroked his beard.
‘We can’t fit all our supplies on three wagons so we’ll have to fix it somehow.’
‘We’ve got a spare wheel, sir,’ Johnson told him.
Kinsella prodded the broken axle with his boot. ‘Then we just need to put this right.’
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of horsemen approaching. They turned to see a man driving a covered wagon with a passenger beside him and four others on horseback. As they got nearer, it became clear that they were soldiers, flashes of blue were visible beneath the dust on their uniforms. Harrison held up his hand as a signal to stop and they drew up alongside the wagon.
The driver glanced at the damage as he saluted smartly. ‘Sergeant Murray, sir, Eighth Cavalry. Looks like you could do with some help.’
Kinsella returned his salute and introduced himself. ‘That’s right, Sergeant. Do you know how to fix it?’
Murray jumped down. Harrison noticed that he was a wiry man with hard, narrow grey eyes above a blond beard. ‘My uncle used to make wagons like these, sir. I partly learned the trade before I was in the army.’ He nodded as he examined the damage more closely while Johnson went to fetch the spare wheel.
Murray turned back to his men. ‘Macpherson, Fisher, get over here.’ Two of the horsemen exchanged looks as they dismounted slowly and came over to help. Directing them to lift the wagon slightly, he felt the damaged area and called to another of his companions. ‘Siegel, get me that piece of wood and the tools out of the back.’ The man appeared hesitant.
‘C’mon, the sooner we get this done for the captain the quicker we can get going,’ Murray told him impatiently. Siegel obeyed and soon the sergeant had fixed the axle and was putting the new wheel in place. As he did so the wagon shifted somewhat and a bag tumbled out of the back. There was a moment of silence as it spilled open and some wads of cash fell out on to the ground. One of the men quickly stuffed them back into the bag before putting it away again. Murray said nothing but there was a hunger in his eyes that Kinsella could not fail to notice, and his men looked at the soldiers surrounding them as if weighing up the odds.
‘With your permission, sir, we’ll be on our way,’ said Murray as he straightened up.
Kinsella looked at him coolly. ‘Where is that exactly?’
Murray appeared flustered. ‘I don’t know what you mean, sir.’
‘I want to know where you’re going, damn it!’ growled the officer. ‘There are six men out here on their own, some of whom appear rather reluctant to obey your orders. Where are the rest of your troop and your commanding officer?’
Murray quickly recovered himself. ‘We’re from Fort Worth, sir. Our lieutenant and more than half the troop were killed by the Comanches. Then we got separated from the others in the sandstorm and now we can’t find them.’
Kinsella turned to Johnson. ‘Take Mr Harrison and see if you can find any trace of Sergeant Murray’s companions within a five-mile radius of here. Mrs Sloane may accompany you too, since I understand she has some scouting ability. Look for signs of any Comanches having been in the area.’
‘We’ll be much obliged, sir, if you can find them,’ said Murray as he swallowed hard.
‘You’d better hope so because if they aren’t found you’ll all be arrested for desertion.’
Harrison, Johnson and Maggie could hear the sergeant protesting his innocence as they set off to search the surrounding area. They looked intensively but saw no signs of any battle or other soldiers.
‘If there’d been fighting near here you’d expect to see some signs of it, but there’s nothing,’ said Harrison as his eyes scanned the horizon.
Johnson nodded. ‘Yeah, those fellas might be from Fort Worth but I bet they ain’t supposed to be out here. They’re probably deserters, or maybe outlaws in disguise.’
‘I wonder what they’re after?’ mused Maggie.
Johnson shrugged. ‘There’s dollars in plenty o’ places if you know where to look. Maybe they had a stage robbery planned, or were gonna hit a town that has a bank.’
‘In that case it’s lucky they’ve been caught.’ Harrison took a final look around. ‘Do you think we’ve seen enough?’
‘Yeah, I reckon so.’ The sergeant patted his horse as its ears twitched. ‘C’mon, let’s head back.’
At that moment the sound of distant but rapid gunfire echoed across the desert. All three looked at one another in alarm, and then galloped back towards the column. As they approached it was clear that a massacre had taken place
. The ground was littered with dead and dying soldiers, most of whom had suffered numerous gunshot wounds. The mingled smells of blood and gunsmoke hung in the air while, in the distance, a wagon sped away, leaving clouds of dust in its wake. They dismounted quickly, moving among the victims to see if there were any who were not beyond help. Two of Murray’s men were among the dead.
Johnson found a young trooper calling out for water and went quickly to his aid. He breathed in short gasps, his chest was riddled with bullet wounds and Harrison realized that there was little they could do for him. He bent down and gently asked him what had happened.
‘Murray … said he had papers … the wagon. …’ He coughed and blood ran from a corner of his mouth.
‘It’s all right, son, take it easy,’ Harrison told him. Johnson gave him another sip of water and he whispered ‘They had … a … Gatling gun,’ before his last breath came with a sigh.
Johnson gently shut the soldier’s eyes. ‘This poor boy can’t have been more than nineteen or twenty.’ He stood up. ‘At least we know what happened.’
‘It sounds like Murray claimed he had papers in his wagon which proved his story. Captain Kinsella told him to fetch them which gave Murray and his men the chance to open fire on the entire column.’
Johnson nodded. ‘Yeah. Those damn things fire two hundred rounds a minute so our boys never stood a chance, and neither will we if we go after ’em.’
‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that, Sergeant.’
They all turned in amazement to see Kinsella staggering towards them, blood running from a wound across his forehead. The two rushed forward to steady him as Maggie attempted to stanch the flow of blood.
‘It looks worse than it is,’ he assured them. ‘A bullet glanced across my forehead when they first attacked. I was knocked out and fell to the ground.’ The captain looked around with horror at the carnage which surrounded them. ‘My God, they’ll pay for this, I swear it. Get me a horse.’
Harrison shook his head. ‘You’re in no fit state to ride. Besides, what can the four of us do against a Gatling gun?’
‘I can ride well enough but you’re right about that gun. They’d just pick us off.’
‘Why don’t we just follow their trail but keep out of firing range? At least that way we’ll know where they’ve gone,’ suggested Maggie.
‘Be headin’ for the border if they’ve any sense.’ Johnson bent down and drew in the dirt with a stick. ‘The quickest way from here is towards Fort Concho, where we’re goin’. I reckon they’ll stop over in San Angela and then head towards Del Rio.’ He made a mark on the ground at the edge of his crude map and they all looked at it.
Harrison thought for a moment. ‘It will take them a few days. My guess is that they’ll hide out in San Angela to rest and they’ll probably ditch those uniforms.’
‘Then what are we waiting for?’ asked Kinsella. ‘Once we get there we’ll search the town until we find them. We can get more men from Fort Concho if necessary.’ He turned and peered into the back of the supply wagon which had contained the money. ‘The cash has all gone, of course. I suspect greed drove them as much as their desire to escape.’
The horses which escaped injury had fled when their riders were shot, frightened by the rapidity of the gunfire but one now came trotting back, sniffing among the corpses for its rider. Kinsella seized the creature’s bridle and swung himself into the saddle. Once again, he was in command, possessed of a steely resolve to catch those who had murdered his men. They set off then at a steady pace, slowing when they spotted a wagon and two horsemen in the distance. Kinsella peered through a telescope at his quarry. ‘At least there are only four of them now which will even up the odds if we have the element of surprise.’
‘It will do as long as they don’t spot that they’re being followed,’ Harrison remarked.
‘That’s a good point so we’ll stop for the night soon, before they do. After all, we know where they are going.’
They passed an uneventful night but Harrison slept badly. The massacre of the troops played on his mind and he saw images of their dead faces when he closed his eyes. The loss of the money did not concern him particularly, but he was determined that those who had butchered Kinsella’s men would not profit from their actions. The morning brought relief from his nightmares but the face that stared back from his shaving mirror appeared drawn and tired. Kinsella approached him as he scraped the last of the soap from his chin.
‘Murray and his gang will probably have set off by now. We’d best get moving.’
Harrison had not heard his words for, reflected in the shaving mirror, he had seen Swift Eagle and his band advancing on their camp. They were moving slowly and no war cry was uttered but their movements were purposeful. He turned to look at them and Kinsella followed his gaze with a gasp of horror.
‘God damn it, we stand no chance out here! I told you they couldn’t be trusted!’
Harrison remained calm. ‘We don’t know what they want yet.’
Johnson was now standing behind them. ‘He’s right, sir. If they were gonna attack I figure they wouldn’t lose any time doin’ it.’
At last the Comanches halted just a few yards from them. Swift Eagle spoke first. ‘My scouts saw many soldiers die from the great gun your enemies had.’
‘So, have you come to finish us off?’ Kinsella asked him.
The chief looked indignant. ‘Your question is foolish, Fire-face. I know you were returning to your fort. My people will keep the peace we have made.’
‘Then what do you want?’ Kinsella’s tone was now somewhat less hostile.
‘My scouts still follow these enemies of yours who laugh as the hyena laughs over the bodies of your men. I come to ask if you wish us to kill them or bring them to you alive?’
Kinsella was nonplussed. ‘I don’t understand. Why would you do that?’
‘You have made peace with us so we will help you. We do not fear their great gun.’
‘Their bullets can kill your braves as easily as they killed my men,’ Kinsella told him.
Swift Eagle smiled. ‘They saw my scouts but their gun would not speak fire, it was silent. The Great Spirit protects us.’
‘Those Gatling guns jam easily, sir. I reckon Murray won’t be able to fix it,’ Johnson whispered to him.
Kinsella nodded. ‘Why don’t we all ride together, Swift Eagle? We’ll catch up with these men while they’re out in the open. I’d like them taken alive if possible.’
The chief nodded his assent, then spoke to his followers in Comanche to explain what had been decided. Within minutes they were on their way, riding hard to close the gap between themselves and their quarry. It was a strange turn of events, Harrison thought, that brought Kinsella and his arch enemy together in an alliance like this, since the captain was a renowned ‘Indian fighter’: one of those who believed that the Indian tribes had to be subjugated and integrated into American society as peaceful farmers and tradesmen. Nevertheless, Harrison could tell that he was a decent man at heart.
These thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a wagon and two horsemen in the distance. As they came within range there were rifle shots from two men who were riding in the back. It was clear that the Gatling gun had jammed and was not working, but they were good marksmen nonetheless. One of the Comanches tumbled from his horse as he was hit, quickly followed by another. Swift Eagle raised the spear he was carrying, which was a signal for his men to divide into two columns and attack the wagon from each side. Harrison veered to the right behind Kinsella and soon drew level with one of the horsemen, who fired at him and narrowly missed. Harrison held the reins firmly in his right hand and shot with his left, hitting his opponent squarely in the chest. The man’s arms flew up and he fell back from his horse. The fugitives were not ready to give up, though, and the wagon increased in speed to pull away as Murray desperately lashed the horses.
The men in the back were still firing and had killed several Comanches but two warrior
s now clambered on to the roof of the wagon, sliced through the canvas awning and jumped inside to overpower them. The other horseman was hit in the throat by an arrow and fell sideways from his saddle. Kinsella drew level with Murray and the man who sat beside him on the wagon, a burly individual who also appeared to be a good shot with a rifle. The two warriors who had climbed on to the wagon were now about to attack him from behind but he turned with one swift movement and shot them both. It was just long enough for Kinsella to take aim and fire with his revolver. The bullet caught the man in the neck and he slumped sideways with a surprised look on his face.
Now only Murray remained as two Comanches mounted the leading horses and cut the harnesses. The wagon rolled on for a few yards before it turned over and he leaped clear, rolling over as he hit the ground. They all drew to a halt in a big circle to surround him. Murray staggered to his feet, gun in hand and looked around desperately for an escape route.
Kinsella moved towards him. ‘I want you alive, Murray, so you can face a court martial and then a firing squad. Drop that gun or I’ll hand you over to the Comanches.’
There was a moment of hesitation before Murray made up his mind. Then he tossed the revolver down on to the ground.
‘Tie him on to a horse, Sergeant,’ said Kinsella as he looked with unconcealed contempt at the man kneeling in front of him.
While Johnson busied himself with their prisoner Harrison searched the wagon and found the missing money. ‘It’s all here,’ he said, and he tossed the bags out one by one. Meanwhile the Comanches helped themselves to souvenirs from the battle, taking tunics and hats from the bodies of the deserters. Then it was time to go their separate ways.
Swift Eagle spoke first. ‘We leave now, Fire-face.’
Kinsella raised a hand in farewell. ‘I’m sure we’ll meet again.’
‘Will it be to fight or make more of your treaties?’ the chief asked, but then he left without waiting for a reply.
