When this weak line of defense spotted the Apaches charging at them from the railroad, they immediately opened fire. The shooting was heard in town, and Hawkins ordered Ludlow to take Corporal Tall Bear, Swift Horse and Michael Strongbow to bolster the southern defenses.
The lieutenant and three scouts found cover in the brush at the side of the road, and began firing at the attackers. The swift volleys of the Winchester 73s immediately knocked three Apaches from their horses. Pontaro instinctively knew something had gone awry with Halkon’s plans and signaled a quick withdrawal. The surviving Apaches turned back toward the depot.
Ludlow and Corporal Tall Bear trotted out into the road to fire at the fleeing warriors. When the attackers drew out of range, the lieutenant and scouts turned their attention to the three dead Guerras. The corporal bent down and picked up one of their rifles.
“Look, Lut’nant! These not carbines. They be rifles that shoot many bullets.”
Ludlow picked one up. “Henry rifles! C’mon, let’s get back to the captain.”
He told the civilian gunmen at the site to stay on the alert, promising he’d send reinforcements. The scouts each picked up a Henry rifle, and Ludlow led them back toward the business district.
Pontaro led his band eastward, then turned north and headed toward Wheatfall’s property. They rode hard and fast, crossing a portion of the Tierra Brava, then swinging back east toward the ranch. Within fifteen minutes they could see the flames and smoke, then pressed on until reaching the ranch yard.
Halkon and Kuchiyo emitted loud and long war whoops. They thought the arrivals were risen warriors. Then the pair sighted Pontaro as the group came to a halt. Halkon was angry. “What are you doing here? You are supposed to keep the whites pinned in on the south.”
Pontaro leaped down from his horse, so furious he could barely contain himself. “And you are supposed to be attacking on the north side.” He looked around. “Is everybody drunk?”
“Yes,” Kuchiyo said. “We are waiting for our ghost warriors to appear so that we may begin killing whites.”
“Brothers!” Pontaro growled. “We saw no ghost warriors anywhere. When we attacked the town, the whites drove us back. You have given them time to prepare a defense.”
The two war leaders were stunned and embarrassed. Halkon said, “I think we better gather up everyone and attack the town.”
“They are all drunk!” Pontaro bellowed. “How can they fight?”
“They can fight!” Kuchiyo insisted. “You must keep in mind this is a battle with the Great Life Giver on our side. The ghost warriors will soon appear and we can make the world our own again.”
Pontaro calmed down a bit. “All right. I will lead my band and attack the town. You make everybody sober with big medicine from the Great Life Giver and follow us when everybody is ready.”
Halkon and Kuchiyo, confident of help from the Apaches’ most powerful deity, turned to prepare their men for battle.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Mack Hawkins and Ludlow Dooley rushed up onto Hezekiah Woodward’s porch with Dennis O’Rourke and Sheriff Dan Martin right behind them. They didn’t bother to knock. Instead, Hawkins pulled the front door open stepped into the parlor.
Hezekiah, Leo Horton, Farley Dempsey and Ed Turnbull were on their knees praying. They snapped their eyes around to the trio of intruders. Hezekiah stood up demanding, “What’s the meaning of this?”
Hawkins held up a Henry rifle. “We’ve taken three of these from Apaches that were killed on the south side of town. What do you know about ‘em?”
Hezekiah tried to put some authority into his voice, but he stuttered an answer. “Them rifles … is for the Injuns to … to fire and strike all the sinners … all the sinners dead.”
O’Rourke roared, “You gave rifles to the Injuns, didn’t you? Henry repeaters just like this one. That traveling salesman told us you bought ‘em from him. He thought they was for the hunters in your church. That was a godamn lie, wasn’t it?”
Hezekiah summoned up some righteous indignation. “Do not use the name of our Lord in vain in this house!”
The sheriff grabbed the pastor by his shirt front and shook him as hard as he could. “Them Injuns attacked us from the south where the depot is! I sent Arnie Schmidt down there to have Zeke Mason telegraph Fort Stryker for help! That means both of ‘em are dead!”
“Ya’ll are under Federal arrest,” O’Rourke declared, drawing his revolver. “The charge is supplying arms and ammunition to hostile Injuns. Now! Hands up and march outta the house.”
Dan Martin looked around. “Where’re your wives?”
“Downtown,” Farley Dempsey the burly blacksmith replied. “Me and Ed and Zeke didn’t know nothing about them rifles ‘til they was already given to the Injuns!”
“Zeke don’t know nothing a’tall!” Martin exclaimed. “It’s a sure bet he’s laying dead beside Arnie. And that also means that Fort Stryker ain’t gonna be sending us any help.”
Hezekiah was suddenly serene and sure of himself. “God has just told me not to worry. The second coming will occur and all is gonna be set right.”
“Hallelujah!” Ed Turnbull hollered out.
Martin pulled his six-gun and aimed it at the churchmen. “One more godamn hallelujah, and there’s gonna be four dead bible thumpers laying on this floor.”
Hawkins and Ludlow followed behind as O’Rourke and Martin escorted the prisoners toward the downtown area. The people on the street were confused by the sight of the town’s pastor, deacon and two lay brothers being pushed into the jailhouse.
Hawkins grabbed Ludlow’s arm. “Mr. Dooley, come with me.” The captain strode down the street with Ludlow following. When they reached Hezekiah’s store, Hawkins shouldered the door open. “Let’s you and me grab a couple of long-handle shovels in the back. We’ll have good use for ‘em as well as Michael Strongbow’s spade.”
Pontaro and his surviving warriors dismounted a hundred yards or so short of Hope Wells’ limits. The four teenage boys with them took control of the horses, leading them into a nearby copse. The Apache war chief wanted to save the animals’ lives by attacking the town on foot. His reasoning was that while he and his braves would turn into ghost warriors when shot down, there was no guarantee the horses would survive.
He spread out his small force in a skirmish line, dividing them up on each side of the road. This wasn’t a normal Apache tactic, but he’d seen white soldiers go into battle in that manner; and it had always been effective. When everything was ready and all the Henry rifles had one round chambered and seventeen in the bullet tubes, he hollered, “Ba’ajil! Charge!”
The war party moved forward at a rapid pace, fanatically courageous as they looked forward to being impervious to the bullets of white men.
It was Corporal Running Cougar who first sighted the Guerras when they appeared down the road. He yelled a warning and cranked off two shots, dropping one of the hostiles. Several rounds fired back by the attackers simultaneously hit the scout noncommissioned officer in the chest. He staggered back, spun to his left and dropped to one knee. Running Cougar struggled to get to this feet, but was overtaken by death. The Comanche fell facedown onto the ground.
A rapid staccato of gunfire thundered across the scene as the combatants cranked cocking-levers and shot at each other. The Apaches walked upright at a steady pace toward the detachment, expecting to become immortal as soon as the first bullets struck them.
The scouts, either in a prone or kneeling position swung their sights from one attacker to the next. The range was short enough that Captain Hawkins and Lieutenant Dooley were able to use their pistols, taking rapid shots without having to aim.
Michael Strongbow was hit and fell back on his buttocks. He maintained that sitting position and continued firing. The youngster didn’t notice that a hunk of flesh had been blown out of his right shoulder. In one short minute, the fight was over. Dead Apaches laid sprawled in the short grass with five of their number
wounded.
“On your feet!” Hawkins ordered the scouts. “As skirmishers, advance!”
The detachment, minus Corporal Running Cougar, moved forward at a steady cadence, looking for injured Guerras who might suddenly open fire. Michael Strongbow, still unaware of being wounded, kept his place in the formation. Hawkins, Sergeant Eagle Heart and Red Moon dispatched the wounded enemy with shots to the head. Ludlow Dooley took Corporal Tall Bear and Swift Horse past the battlefield into the trees.
At that moment Dennis O’Rourke and Sheriff Dan Martin trotted up with a half dozen townsmen. They looked incredulously at the corpses of Guerras spread out across the open area.
Dennis O’Rourke was puzzled. “How the hell did this happen?”
Hawkins shrugged. “They just kept walking toward us out in the open, firing as fast as they could.”
Sergeant Eagle Heart walked up with tears streaming down his cheeks. “Sir, I sad to report that Corp’ral Running Cougar is killed dead.”
Hawkins was noticeably upset. “Our first casualty.”
“I have one too,” Sheriff Martin said. “My deputy Arnie was found beside the south road near the depot. And Zeke Mason the stationmaster is dead. The top of his head is sliced in. The telegraph equipment is destroyed, so we won’t be able to get word out to Fort Stryker until the next train comes through.”
Ludlow, Corporal Tall Bear and Swift horse emerged from the trees with the four Guerras teenagers as prisoners. “These kids were taking care of the horses,” Ludlow explained. “So we’ve probably recovered at least some of the stolen animals we were looking for. It’s a good—”“
Hawkins interrupted, “Corporal Running Cougar was killed.”
Ludlow’s face paled. “Oh, God!”
O’Rourke patted him on the shoulder. “This is the first comrade-in-arms for you to mourn, Ludlow.” He paused. “And it never gets any easier, I’m sorry to say.”
Hawkins stepped in. “Mr. Dooley, Scout Strongbow is wounded in the shoulder. Get your medical bag and see what you can do.”
The lieutenant went over to his gear and fetched the haversack. He found Michael sitting on the ground drinking from his canteen. “Let’s see that wound, Scout.”
Michael shrugged him off. “It’s nothing, sir.”
“Maybe it is, maybe not,” Ludlow said. “Take off your shirt.”
Michael obeyed and Ludlow examined the wound. It wasn’t bleeding much, but a hunk of flesh had obviously been blown off his deltoid muscle. Ludlow, following instructions he had learned from reading his medical manual, cleaned it up by removing the blue lint from the youngster’s army shirt imbedded in the raw abrasion. With that taken care of, he folded a bandage, laying it on the injury. A quick wrapping with a strip of mesh cotton material secured the arrangement.
“That’ll hold you until we can get you to a doctor,” Ludlow said.
“I don’t think I need a doctor,” Michael replied. “This’ll do fine.”
Ludlow’s voice was firm. “You’re going to get proper medical treatment, Scout, whether you want to or not. Ignoring a wound could end up with blood poisoning that would cost you an arm if not your life.”
The young scout considered the consequences. “I understand, sir. Thank you.”
Hawkins turned to Sheriff Martin. “We’re going to need help with our dead corporal.”
“Sure,” Martin said. “Doctor Simpson is also our town undertaker. He can embalm the body for your return to the Indian Territory.”
“Obliged,” Hawkins said. He turned and yelled, “Sergeant Eagle Heart! Call the men together. We’re gonna move back a few yards into the brush.”
The senior noncommissioned officer turned to getting the captain’s orders obeyed. But first the Kiowas and Comanches hog-tied the four Apache boys until a wagon could be brought out to take them to the town jail.
Everyone was aware that the Guerras they had killed were only a part of the tribe’s warriors. They had no idea how many they’d face, but knew for certain the hostiles would be carrying Henry repeating rifles.
Hawkins had Sergeant Eagle Heart pass out the shovels taken from Hezekiah’s store. The scouts quickly began taking turns scooping out shallow rifle emplacements.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hawkins put Ludlow in charge of taking Running Cougar’s body to the town doctor for embalming. The lieutenant ordered Corporal Tall Bear and Scout Red Moon to put the corpse over the dead man’s horse for the trip to the undertaking parlor. He also ordered a reluctant Michael Strongbow to come along for treatment of his wounded shoulder. That left Sergeant Eagle Heart, Acting Corporal Swift Horse, and Red Moon to finish off the simple earthen rifle emplacements.
While those two matters were tended to, Captain Hawkins glanced over at Sheriff Martin. “Are things ready in Hope Wells, Dan?”
“Yeah,” the sheriff replied. “I sent some of the men down to the depot to get Arnie and Zeke’s bodies. The Injuns wrecked the telegraph equipment, so we’re definitely cut off from outside help.”
“D’you think that’s gonna be a big problem?” Hawkins inquired.
Martin shook his head. “We’ve always managed to fend off attacks on the town. It’s those folks out on farms and ranches we got to worry about. We already know about Arlo Wheatfall’s place from the fire out his way.”
“Too bad,” Marshal O’Rourke said. “He was a nice old timer.”
“Yes he was,” Martin agreed. “I just hope those godamn Apaches didn’t torment him and his people too much.” He sighed. “Particularly the women. Anyhow, ever’body in town is armed and ready for trouble.” He looked out over the scene of the fighting. “I see the dead Injuns have been taken away.”
“Yep,” Hawkins said. “We piled them behind that brush yonder. We picked up all the Henry rifles they had too.”
Dennis O’Rourke growled, “That godamn pastor is gonna get a good long sentence in a Federal penitentiary for that fiasco. And Leo Horton the barber is gonna be his cellmate.”
“At this point in the situation,” Sheriff Martin said, “I’m worried about a lynching where those two are concerned. And I don’t have a deputy anymore.”
“I can lend a hand,” O’Rourke promised.
“Good. I’ll try to deputize some others to help out.”
Ludlow Dooley, Corporal Tall Bear and Scout Michael Strongbow entered Hope Wells on horseback. Tall Bear led the horse with Running Cougar’s corpse draped over its back. The trio was surprised and pleased that the men on the street showed respect for the dead scout by removing their hats. The women bowed their heads.
When the officer and scouts reached Dr. Simpson’s infirmary, Ludlow left Tall Bear and took Michael into Doctor Simpson’s infirmary. There was no one in the waiting room, so the two went straight to the dispensary. They found the physician laying out instruments, bandages and other medical paraphernalia for possible casualties in the coming days.
“I have a wounded scout here, Doctor,” Ludlow reported.
“Let’s have a look,” Simpson said, guiding Michael to the examining table.
“I’m not hurt hardly a’tall,” Michael insisted.
“Let me determine that, young man,” Simpson replied. He cut the bandaging, carefully lifting it off the wound. “It’s clean. Who treated this injury?”
“I did,” Ludlow said. “I followed the instructions in the army medical manual.” He took another look. “How serious is it?”
“Well, it can be treated well enough,” the doctor answered. “I got carbolic acid to keep it from putrefying.”
Michael glanced at the wound. “I’m gonna be all right, aren’t I, Doctor?”
“Well, you’ll have a permanent dent of sorts. And once it’s healed you might not have full use of it, but not enough to make any real impact on your life.”
“That’s good,” Michael said. “I was afraid I’d have to leave the Army.”
Doctor Simpson continued, “The bad news is that this is going to take
a while to mend. It has to be allowed to heal from the inside out. It’ll mean opening it up now and then to keep the outside from healing too fast. If it does, the inside will be cut off from any medication. Your army surgeon can take care of that and I’m sure he’ll have some laudanum for the pain.”
“I don’t need nothing for pain,” Michael stated emphatically. “I’m a Kiowa Injun.”
Simpson snorted. “I don’t care if you’re the mighty Hercules, you’re going to need something when it really starts hurting.” He glanced at Ludlow. “It’s too bad there’s no way to graft skin over a wound like this. It’d heal a lot faster with less discomfort to the patient.”
“Maybe medical science will be able to do that someday,” Ludlow mused. “By the way, we had one of our scouts killed. The body is outside. Sheriff Martin said you could embalm him for the trip back to Fort Lone Wolf.”
“Yeah, I can do that. I’ve got the bodies of the stationmaster and deputy sheriff as well. Let me finish up here and we can get the matter arranged.”
A half hour later, with Michael bandaged, the lieutenant and physician went outside where Corporal Tall Bear stood beside the horse bearing Running Cougar’s corpse. Doctor Simpson gestured to the corporal to follow him, then led the way around to the back of the building where he did his undertaking chores.
Ludlow and Tall Bear carried Running Cougar into the rustic morgue, laying the body on an elongated table. Two coffins with the covers yet to be nailed down, were on sawhorses at the back of the room. Ludlow walked over and peered at the corpses. Deputy Sheriff Arnie Schmidt was laid out in a suit, looking as if he were asleep. Zeke Mason was the same way, except for a muslin cloth that was laid over his face.
The Ghost Dancers (A Crossed Arrows Western Book 2) Page 14
