“We don’t have much ammo, Ben.” It was the only argument he could think of to keep Hannigan from signing them on as a private army for a group of ranchers tired of losing their beeves to marauding Indians.
“We won’t need much. The sight of us whoopin’ and hollerin’ as we ride out will scare ’em off. The Injuns ain’t expectin’ to face more’n a cowboy or two with a six-gun or maybe a rifle. Faced with us, they’ll turn tail and run. We’re tough looking. We might not have to even empty our guns to scare the lot of them off.”
“If we shoot up all our ammo charging them, where does that leave us if they counterattack?” Knight knew facts had nothing to do with the decision. Ben saw this as a chance to be a savior. Knight saw it as a chance for them to get shot up and maybe killed for little return.
“So hang back, Knight. Give me your six-shooter and I’ll use it. I know how to use it.” Nott puffed out his chest. “I don’t cotton much to what Lunsford says usually, but this time he has the right idea. What are them cowpunchers willing to pay us?”
“A hundred dollars,” Ben Lunsford said.
“That’s all? For the lot of us risking our necks? Make it a thousand and it’s worth my while to risk getting my scalp lifted.” Nott did a quick draw, going into a gunfighter’s crouch and swinging the six-gun around to cover each man in turn.
“Put that away before you make me mad, Johnny.” Milo Hannigan lounged on his side by the fire, head supported on a hand with his elbow firmly pressed into the ground. “You know the rules. No pointing the gun ’less you mean to use it.”
“Sorry, Milo.” Nott didn’t sound the least bit contrite. From the tiny smile on his face, he imagined fanning off six rounds and ending the lives of everyone in the gang.
“You don’t reckon the ranchers would go more’n a hundred, Ben?” Hannigan looked thoughtful.
“They’re almost at the end of their rope. Rustlers stole a lot of beeves earlier in the year and now the Comanche are on the warpath, raidin’ from here all the way up to Adobe Walls.”
“Don’t suppose they’d let us have a night with their women, would they?” Henry Lattimer spoke softly. Whether he joked or not could be debated.
The entire time Knight had ridden with Hannigan and his gang, Lattimer hadn’t said a dozen words but every time had carried a quiet menace with them. He had seen men like Lattimer in the prison camp and called them “not quite right.” What they said and did wasn’t outrageous, but they always looked at everything askew. Right now Knight was glad he wasn’t a woman—and wondered if he ought to warn the ranchers.
“Don’t think they would, Henry,” said Hannigan, “but they might give us a few head of cattle. What we don’t eat, we can sell at the next town.”
“How about pigs? They got pigs? We can ask for a pig or two along with the money,” said Porkchop.
This set off a round of argument over what animals to ask for. Payment in horses was out of the question. The ranchers needed all the horses they could round up for the cattle drive north to the railhead. During the year, Comanches and Lipan Apache raided for horses. Better to ignore such a demand and ask for cattle. Or pigs.
“What’re your thoughts on this, Doc?” Ben Lunsford pushed his brother aside when he tried to whisper in his ear. “You always know the right thing to do.”
Such a sentiment made Knight uneasy because of the way the rest of the men glared at him. He had the feeling they thought he was stuck up and superior to them because he had been an officer and a doctor. The more he tried to quell such animosity, the worse he made it. After all this time, he figured Captain Norwood had given up pursuit. He wasn’t sure about Donnelly, but no one coming up on them from the east had heard of Pine Knob, much less Gerald Donnelly. It might be time to leave Milo behind. Taking Ben and Seth with him would be fine, but he wasn’t sure Hannigan would cotton much to losing half his gang that way.
This might be the way to get enough ahead on both food and money that Hannigan wouldn’t mind three of them riding a different trail.
“I say we talk to the ranchers and make the best deal we can. They stand to lose more than a few head to the Indians if we don’t agree to help.”
“Let’s do it!” Ben Lunsford slapped Seth on the back and jumped to his feet, doing an awkward dance that made Knight wonder if he had similar ideas about splitting with Hannigan after they had earned their keep with the ranchers.
That made life even easier. Afterwards. First, they had to drive off an entire Comanche nation with only a handful of bullets.
* * *
The rancher’s gray hair fluttered in the cool breeze blowing from the north. He ran his hand through the thatch. From the lack of wrinkles on his forehead, he had turned prematurely gray. His hands shook, and he crow-hopped back and forth as nerves made his voice quaver. “We got word of them comin’ fast. A dozen in the war party.” He tried to spit and couldn’t work up the gobbet. “Might be more. I moved my wife and children into town.”
“How many hands can you put into the field?” Milo Hannigan pursed his lips as he considered this information.
“You askin’ how many are still here? Most hightailed it. There are three left.” The rancher made a sour face. “One thinks he can get hitched to my oldest girl if he shows some backbone.”
Knight didn’t bother asking. From how the rancher spoke, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of that ever happening. If the young cowboy was the only one left standing, he might have only the girl’s reluctance to overcome to win the entire ranch.
“How sure are you there’s only a dozen Indians?” Knight knew the rancher wouldn’t be as upset as he was over such a small group of Comanches. There had to be more.
“Only twelve in that band.” The rancher closed his eyes and made the decision to tell the entire truth. “Three more war parties have been sighted. All of them are joining up on my property.”
“You’ve got the largest herd,” Hannigan said. “To keep this from turning into a massacre, we have to stop them from uniting in one huge red-skinned army.”
“Any chance the Federals will send reinforcements?” Knight had to ask. If bluecoats showed up, he would be at as big a risk from them as from a war-painted warrior out to scalp him.
“The mayor sent a request. The head of the cattle growers’ association asked. They claim to be busy putting down revolts from here all the way to the Louisiana border. None of us believes that excuse for a minute. If we get ourselves killed, the land is open for them carpetbaggers to take.”
“Might be you should reconsider that boy wanting to get hitched with your daughter.” Hannigan laughed. The sound sent a chill up Knight’s spine. “You and your men fortify the ranch house. We’ll see what we can do to keep the Injuns from getting this far.”
The rancher thrust out his hand. Hannigan hesitated a moment, then shook hard. With that, the rancher hurried back to his house to muster a defense, no matter how feeble.
“If the Comanches get past us, that fellow’s going to lose his silver hair to the first brave who rides up.” Hannigan motioned for his men to gather around. “We have enough ammunition for the first war party, then we’ll have to use our fists.”
“Don’t pass by any dropped rifle. Take ammo off their bodies. We have to use their weapons against them,” Knight said.
“Good advice, Sam. You listen to him, boys. He’s got a good head on his shoulders. In spite of spending the war saving lives, he understands what we have to do to take them.” Hannigan patted his six-shooter. “Let’s mount and find ourselves somewhere to make a stand.”
They stepped up. Hannigan, Nott, and Lattimer galloped off. Ben and Seth rode on either side of Knight. Porkchop brought up the rear as they trotted along, letting the others do the serious scouting.
“You all right shootin’ at people, Doc?” Seth’s voice almost broke with emotion.
“He’s fine,” Ben Lunsford cut in. “Have you seen how good a shot he is? He might be the best of all
of us. Nott sprays bullets around like a dog shakin’ off water.”
“You’ll be fine, Seth,” Knight said, understanding what had actually been said. Seth had never faced anyone willing to kill him, not like his brother or any of the others in Hannigan’s company. “Don’t panic. Keep your wits about you.”
“That’s for sure,” Ben said. “My first battle, I worried I was firing too slow. It took me forever to load my musket. I found out later most of the other soldiers either fired their ramming rod because they forgot to take it out or didn’t load powder or lead or wadding. Getting off a shot mattered more than being the first to fire a round without any lead in it.”
“You’ve told me that before, Ben. I don’t have a musket to load.” Seth drew his pistol and held it up. “Here’s six rounds.”
“Be sure to swap out the empty cylinder for one that you’ve loaded and you’re golden. You’re no coward, Seth. No, sir.” Ben Lunsford dropped back to talk with Porkchop, leaving Seth and Knight alone.
When Ben Lunsford got out of earshot, Knight said, “If you’re not scared, you’re a damned fool. We don’t know what we’ll run into, but it’s bound to be dangerous.”
“Are you scared, Doc?” Seth turned his piercing blue eyes on Knight. “I can’t believe it if you say you are. You look cool as a mint julep.”
“What do you know about mint juleps? You ever had one?”
“Did. Once. It tasted terrible.”
Knight kept Seth talking about inconsequential things to keep his mind off what they rode into. He wished he was as calm as Seth thought. Inside, his gut churned and the prospect of taking a life rather than saving it left him desolate. If things had gone differently in Pine Knob, he wouldn’t be here, ready to shoot it out with an Indian he had never met before and had no grudge with.
“Curse you, Victoria.” He spoke under his breath but Seth heard.
“You ever think about goin’ home, Doc? To Pine Knob?”
“There’s nothing for me there. Believing that there was got me through Hellmira, that and having Ben as a friend. Now? I don’t have a wife, and a carpetbagger runs the town to suit himself. Because Donnelly says so, I can never practice medicine there and—” He cut off his words and held out his hand to alert Ben Lunsford and Porkchop. Seth already saw the warning that Lattimer had signaled from a low hill. It was time for them to earn their money.
“Stay with me or Ben. Don’t go charging off by yourself.”
“What if I can take me an Injun?”
“It’ll be a trap. They’re smart, Seth, real smart. This is how they live—and since all of them are fighting us, that means they’ve been good at it for every last day of their lives.” Knight slid his six-shooter from its holster. His sweaty thumb slipped off the hammer. With a quick swipe, he dried it off, then put his heels to his horse and shot up the hill toward Lattimer. Seth and the others trailed him.
He never asked Lattimer what he had seen. The Comanches had half circled Hannigan and Nott, pinning them down. Nott’s horse had been shot from under him. An arrow protruded from its shoulder. Nott knelt beside the carcass, his rifle resting on the horse as he fired methodically at the circling Indians. Hannigan remained in the saddle, getting off one shot after another from his revolver. When the hammer fell on an empty chamber, the clack! echoed all the way uphill.
“Divert them while Milo reloads.” Knight doubted anyone heard his order, but it put everything into perspective on what he had to do. He charged downhill, firing at two Comanche braves on the flank as he went.
The sudden entry of another fighter unsettled them for a moment. One wheeled about, then fell from his horse as it reared. Nott fired into the horse’s belly, bringing it down. The Indian scrambled to keep from being squashed. The horse neighed pitifully. Without hesitation, the Comanche whipped out a knife and cut the horse’s throat.
Knight appreciated the gesture. It was the rider’s duty not to let the animal suffer. And it was his duty to keep the warriors from raiding the rancher’s cattle. He fired twice, missed. As he galloped past, he swung his right hand over and aimed down on his left side. This time his bullet flew straight and true. The brave gasped and fell back, arms outstretched over his horse. Two bodies. Two corpses.
The impact of killing the Indian hit Knight as he plunged forward into a tight knot of three more warriors. Filling his field of vision were white and yellow streaks of war paint on their cheeks. One had outlined his eye in black. A red streak by it wasn’t paint but blood from a cut. Knight fired and fired and fired. Another man grasped his chest and fell to the ground, dead.
He burst through the ring of fighters, leaving the two behind him in confusion. One called out in the Comanche tongue. More gunfire. Knight charged on, firing. It took several seconds for him to realize he had long since exhausted the rounds in his Colt Navy and dry-fired, the hammer falling on spent chambers.
Knowing his life was forfeit if he couldn’t shoot back, he fumbled to open the Colt, remove the cylinder, and slip in a fully loaded one. His fingers felt like they were numb with frostbite. His breathing came harsh and quick. When he drew back the hammer, a new round underneath, he hunted for a target.
He sat alone in the middle of a field. Not sure what had happened, he spun about. Three bodies lay on the ground. A sigh of relief escaped when he saw they were Comanches. When Seth waved to him and rode up, he lowered his gun.
“What happened? I don’t hear any more gunfire.”
“What happened? You’re askin’ that? Doc, you’re a damn hero! You charged through and kilt dead their war chief. That mixed ’em all up. I got me two. Two! Sent another one skedaddlin’ for the tall and uncut. Ben and Porkchop kept after them but gave up when they couldn’t catch ’em.”
“War chief?” Shock seized his arms and turned them leaden. He managed to move against the inertia and slide his Colt Navy into its holster. “We routed them? All of them?”
“Looks like,” Seth said. He let out a whoop of glee. “We chased ’em off. You did it, Doc. If you hadn’t charged in like that, they’d have cut us down.”
“We need to get their weapons. Rifles. Ammo.” Only things he had thought of before the skirmish rose in his head. Try as he might, figuring out what to say about their victory lay beyond his capacity.
“Nott’s run himself down an Indian pony. Damn shame his horse got shot like that.”
“It saved his life, Seth.” Knight watched Hannigan, Lattimer, and Nott moving from one body to the next, stripping away anything of value. They took knives, beadwork, and buckskin pouches with whatever valuables a Comanche carried into battle.
“Got five rifles and enough ammunition to fight off the rest of those heathens!” Lattimer held one Winchester high over his head and waved it around the way the Comanche had when he prepared to attack.
Johnny Nott rode over, stared at Knight with his emotionless gaze, then touched the brim of his hat in mock salute and rode on. Familiar laughter caused Knight to turn in the saddle. Milo Hannigan gathered the reins of a half dozen ponies.
“You saved our bacon, Sam. If you hadn’t opened fire when you did, the bastards would have killed me and Nott. Now, we turned the tables, got their guns and horses, and we’re in position to hold off the rest of their war party. You done good, Sam. You done real good for a man who’s never fought before.”
“I’ve fought, just not like this.”
“I saw the chief’s body. One shot clean through the head. You’re becoming quite a marksman. Now you need to put a little speed into a draw and you’ll be the most feared gunman in the whole of Texas.” Again Hannigan laughed, as if he thought the idea so absurd that it would become a standing joke.
Knight slipped his pistol from the holster and looked hard at it. He had hit the very spot where he aimed. Hunting rabbits and other small game, he only took one shot to bring them down. Something in his head made marksmanship easy. He had always been adept with his hand doing what his mind told. That made him a good surge
on. It could also turn him into a deadly killer. He wasn’t sure such a skill should be nurtured.
He jerked his head up when Ben Lunsford shouted, “They’ve ridden around us. The lot of them other Injuns is headin’ for the ranch house!”
CHAPTER 12
“See? See their dust? These were just a diversion.” Ben Lunsford bounced in his saddle as he pointed.
“They’re taking advantage of this fight,” Knight said. “Do you think their war chief would be part of a diversion? He’d want to be in the thick of battle. Those braves are taking advantage of a loss to steal horses.”
“And kill the rancher and whoever else is with him.” Ben Lunsford wiped his mouth. His eyes were wide, and he hardly restrained himself. “We gotta get there pronto!”
“Slow down. We rush into a fight we know nothing about and it’s us who’ll get killed. You don’t want that for Seth, do you?”
“Seth?” Lunsford looked ahead to where his brother rode with Hannigan and Nott. “They’ll talk him into leading the attack. They don’t care one whit for him.”
“Whoa, hang on.” Knight reached out and grabbed Lunsford’s arm. “We need a plan. Milo’s not fool enough to rush in without having some kind of a plan. Seth’s going to be in the middle of the fight, no matter what. We all are.”
“The best way of not gettin’ killed is to act like you can’t. I heard a sergeant say that. I never believed it because he got himself shot to hell and gone not an hour later, but it makes sense. You get all timid and you make mistakes.”
“React to what’s facing you the best way you can and don’t invent problems. Don’t give up, no matter what. You might just be a better fighter.” Knight kicked his horse to a gallop. “Come on. Let’s see if Hannigan has any miracle to pull out of his sleeve.”
Sawbones Page 11
