Desert Crossing

by Short, Luke;

  Riding low over his horse’s neck, he sped past the wagon. The other troopers, firing wildly at no visible target, preceded him. Lieutenant Overman skirted the downed horse and reined in beside the freight wagon. Bailey, the freighter, was marooned on his motionless mule. “Get behind me!” Overman said. A bullet whomped into the side of the wagon as the freighter scrambled out of the saddle and got up behind Overman.

  Ahead of him Overman could see all his troopers save one were flattened in their saddles over the necks of their galloping horses; the one exception was Sergeant Noonan. His well-trained horse was standing, awaiting a command from the reins. Noonan was slumped over, his right hand clamping his left shoulder.

  Overman seized the cheek strap of Noonan’s horse, turned him, and then cut the horse viciously across the rump with his gauntlets. The horse lunged, and Noonan barely managed to stick to the saddle as the horse went into a gallop.

  Now Overman spurred his own horse savagely and the bullets seemed to be hunting them out. Bailey, whose arms were around his waist, suddenly clamped him with a savage grip that almost cracked his ribs. Overman knew that Bailey was hit, and he prayed that the man could hold on until they were out of danger.

  Bullets were ricocheting off rocks on either side of them and Overman felt a sudden hurtful slam in his thigh. In a moment then they were out of range and the firing died down.

  Overman turned in the saddle and said over his shoulder, “Are you hurt?”

  “Got a broke arm, I think.”

  Only then did Overman realize that it was Bailey’s left arm that was clasping him. There was no pressure at all from the right arm. His own leg still stung from the ricochet.

  Ahead of him his reined-in troopers were waiting.

  When the fusillade began, the sound of it came plainly to the train. The teamsters were gathered in a group by themselves in the shade of the wagons. Dave and John Thornton were standing on either side of the ambulance that held Juliana.

  It was Thornton who spoke first, and with excitement. “We’d better get in there and help them!”

  “Overman said not to,” Dave said mildly.

  “Are you going to let them be butchered?” Thornton asked hotly.

  Dave looked at him coldly across Juliana. “That’s one of the things you sign up for when you join the Army.” Dave turned and called to his men, “Get your rifles, boys.” Then to Juliana he said, “If anybody but the military comes out of that cut, Miss Juliana, I want you to climb into the front corner of my wagon. There’s a place made for you in the freight. Thornton, here’s my pistol.” He gave his hand gun to Thornton, who accepted it reluctantly.

  By now the firing had ceased, and Dave waited impatiently. The sun was almost down and it cast long grotesque shadows ahead of them. He was thankful now that his wagon with the rifles had been held back. The kegs of nails, the barrels of flour, the horseshoes, and the bolts of calico that were in the first wagon wouldn’t stack up to much loot for the attackers.

  Now plainly visible in the low sun, the troopers came out of the cut. Dave counted them and saw one horse and rider being led and a pair riding double. As they approached Dave saw that it was Noonan’s horse that was being led.

  Turning to Juliana, he said, “We’ve got at least one hurt man, Miss Juliana.” Then he went out to meet the troopers and Thornton followed him. Juliana turned in her seat to reach for her valise and the clothing in it that she would tear up for bandages.

  Lieutenant Overman reined in. His slim face held a quiet rage as he said, “Better move your teamster over in the supply wagon, Dave. This man’s hurt badly. Sergeant Noonan got it, too.”

  Without speaking, Dave went back to the supply wagon, followed by the detail and Juliana. Lieutenant Overman called over his shoulder, “Mister Thornton, please keep an eye on that road. If anybody comes out of it, warn us.”

  Once Everts was moved to one side, Bailey was laid out on the pallet. Noonan was helped down off his horse and was propped up against the wheel of the supply wagon. His blouse was stained with blood from a shoulder wound.

  While Juliana and Dave splinted up Bailey’s smashed arm with slats ripped off the cases of canned goods, Overman and one of the troopers attended Noonan’s wound. The bullet had gone into Noonan’s shoulder through the heavy muscle, had broken his collarbone, and lay just under the skin of his upper chest. He seemed to Overman to be in a state of shock. Overman first split the skin over the bullet with his knife, and removed the bullet. He washed the wound and bandaged it, and then made a sling for Noonan’s left arm out of his trooper’s neckerchief. Through all of it Noonan did not utter a sound of pain, nor did he talk. He accepted the canteen of water and drank from it, but it was as if the bullet had stricken him dumb.

  Lieutenant Overman called over to the troopers who were describing the attack to the teamsters. “Cleary, relieve Mister Thornton. You’ll act as sentry until relieved.”

  Overman caught Dave’s eye and motioned toward the empty ambulance. When Dave left the supply wagon, Juliana followed him. Thornton, relieved by the trooper, headed for the ambulance, too, so that all four met there. Lieutenant Overman then told them briefly of the ambush.

  “How many guns would you judge?” Dave asked.

  “A dozen, Dave, maybe more, but I wasn’t taking time to count them.” He looked at them all now, and said, “You can see what our situation is. We’re blocked from water. They have the commanding position and I don’t think we can dig them out with twice the men we have available. Do you, Dave?”

  “No,” Dave said. He looked about him in the dusk. “I don’t want to interrupt you, Dick, but we’re wide open for a raid here. Can we get our wagons corralled and the stock inside before dark?”

  “You’re right,” Overman said. “We’ll talk afterwards.”

  By full dark the wagons were formed in a circle with the animals inside it. Sentries were out and two fires were going. Then Juliana, Dave, Overman, and Thornton, while the coffee came to a boil, drew together again. It was Thornton who came up to the fire last. In his once white shirt, his townsman’s trousers and shoes, he looked grotesquely out of place, Dave thought.

  And it was Thornton who spoke first. “Lieutenant, may I make a suggestion in all good faith?”

  “Why, of course.”

  Thornton looked carefully at the three of them and then asked rhetorically, “What are these men after that attacked us?”

  “Why, our rifles, of course,” Overman said.

  “Then why don’t we give the rifles to them?” Before anyone could answer him, Thornton went on. If we give them the rifles they’ll let us alone. They’ll let us go through to water.”

  This was such an amazing and unlooked-for suggestion that all of them were silent. Thornton, seeing that he had them at a momentary advantage, pushed his case. He was excited now. His eyes were bright in the firelight, and when he talked he made short, chopping gestures with his soft hands.

  “Lieutenant Overman, you were assigned this detail with the thought in mind that you would protect not only the lone woman, but the civilian men.”

  “And the freight,” Dave cut in.

  “Freight?” Thornton echoed. “Is any freight worth the lives of men and women?” He looked directly at Overman. “Surely you’ve read enough military history, Lieutenant, to know that commanders have abandoned supplies, weapons, ammunition, and even friends in order to save the lives of their men. Remember Bull Run? You think Pope didn’t abandon equipment?”

  “I don’t think Colonel Bowie at the Alamo requested safe conduct,” Overman countered drily. “He neither deserted his friends there nor abandoned his equipment.” He added, “And, like us, he was outnumbered.”

  Thornton’s face paled with anger. “Whose decision was it, Lieutenant, to send that wagon in alone, with my supplies?”

  “It was mine,” Overman said.

  Thornton countered swiftly. “What right have you to sacrifice my supplies over Army supplies? If you th
ought something was going to be lost, why shouldn’t it be the rifles, and not my trade goods?”

  Dave said drily, “Here’s the man from timber country talking again.”

  “Then you answer my question!” Thornton challenged Dave.

  Dave said patiently, “One, those rifles are needed at Fort Whipple. Two, if we surrender them we arm that many Indians who’ll use them to kill us with.”

  “We’re close to being killed now!” Thornton said hotly.

  Lieutenant Overman spoke up then and there was command in his voice. “You asked if you could make a suggestion in good faith, Mister Thornton. You have. Your suggestion is unacceptable.”

  “Then what do you plan to do? Let us die here?” Thornton demanded.

  For the first time that day Dave saw a glint of humor creep into Overman’s eyes.

  “Since you asked to make a suggestion, Mister Thornton, I think Dave should be allowed to make a suggestion. He’s responsible for the goods and the rifles. And, like you, he also has his life at stake.” He looked at Dave. “Have you a suggestion, Dave?”

  “Yes. Pull stakes at moonrise and go back to Layton Wells.”

  Lieutenant Overman smiled. “That would be my suggestion, too, Mister Thornton, and that’s what we’ll do.”

  “You’ve got your heads together on this!” Thornton cried, his voice close to shrill. “You’ve decided it without considering other opinions!”

  “As it happens, we haven’t got together,” Overman said. “However, I’m as grateful to Dave for his opinion as I am to you for yours.”

  Thornton looked at Juliana. “Juliana, does this make any sense to you? If we’d only turn over the rifles we could reach Fort Whipple and your family without any more trouble.”

  There was a long moment of silence as Juliana considered this. “I’m sure the Apaches would give our people safe conduct only if we’d move out of the country,” she said. Then she added, “I’m hungry. I don’t know about the rest of you.”

  Thornton turned angrily and left the fire. Juliana knew she had wounded him deeply, and that he would probably sulk during the rest of the trip. It was strange how the events of the past few days had changed her liking for John Thornton into near dislike. He seemed to have a gifted tongue which seemed dedicated to saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

  Dave dished up two plates of food and went over to the supply wagon where Bailey and Everts were lying with a dim-lit lantern at their heads.

  Juliana dished up plates for Lieutenant Overman and herself, and then took her seat again on an open crate of canned peaches.

  “Everybody’s made a suggestion but me, Dick. Am I permitted to make one? In good faith, too?”

  Lieutenant Overman smiled. “Go ahead, it’s your turn.”

  “I would like to suggest that everyone here is grateful to you for handling these killers the way you did. If we’d gone in there blindly. I think we’d all be dead.”

  Lieutenant Overman flushed with embarrassment, then he said, “I’d like to claim credit for the plan, but it was Dave’s idea.”

  “Then I’m grateful to him, too.”

  Overman nodded solemnly. “So am I.”

  Juliana began to eat, but Overman had stopped eating and was staring at the fire. “I can’t help but wonder why he left the Army.”

  “He told me he was invalided out because of his eye.”

  Overman shook his head. “If he said that it must be true. Still, I’ve met a dozen officers who aren’t perfect physical specimens. My commanding officer at Fort Mohave lost an arm at Bull Run. I used to know a major at Camp McDowell who was so crippled with rheumatism he had to be lifted on and off a horse.”

  Juliana said nothing, and Overman continued. “Maybe that missing eye is the handiest excuse to cover the real reason.”

  Juliana looked up. “You’re not implying that he was discharged for something he had done?”

  Overman looked surprised. “I would never imply that, Miss Juliana—not after today. No, what I meant was that poor pay or family troubles or a business opportunity might have influenced him. I think—”

  He saw Dave approaching at the very edge of the firelight, and he stopped speaking and turned his attention to the food on his plate. Dave came over, dished out his food, sat down, and began to eat.

  “Remember when moonrise is, Dave?” Overman asked.

  “Around eleven.”

  “How’s your water situation? I noticed the hostler filling barrels back at Layton’s.”

  “We’re all right,” Dave said. “Traveling at night will help too.”

  Lieutenant Overman finished eating and rose, saying, “I’d better go tell the men our plans so they can get some rest.”

  “If you want to double your guard, call on my men,” Dave said. “On me too.”

  Overman nodded and moved over to the other campfire. Dave saw that Sergeant Noonan was eating with the rest of the troopers.

  As Dave began to eat he saw Juliana, who had finished, staring into the meager flames. He could guess her thoughts. She was wondering how this would end, and Dave had to confess that he was a little puzzled himself. They could reach Layton Wells on the water that was in the barrels ironed to the side of his wagons, but beyond that he didn’t know. The eastbound stage, not due for a week, would undoubtedly be passed through the malpais. The question that bothered him more than anything else, however, was what their attackers would do when they discovered that the train was headed back for Layton Wells. If they decided to attack the train, either at night or in the daytime, the train would be halted and forced to corral. Then again they would be at the mercy of this gang that barred them from water.

  Suddenly Juliana’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Dick gives you credit for saving the train today.”

  Dave looked up with a smile. “Who did the fighting?”

  “But who had the idea? If we’d all gone in there together I don’t think we’d have come out,” Juliana said.

  “I knew the country and Dick didn’t. It’s as simple as that.”

  “I think he’s a good officer, don’t you?”

  Dave nodded. “He’s good now, and he’ll be better.”

  Juliana looked at him, hesitated, then said abruptly, “We were discussing your career, Dick and I.”

  Dave frowned, and the movement of his forehead pushed his eyepatch down a little. He touched it back into place before he said, “Neither of you knows anything about it, do you?”

  Juliana went on with seeming irrelevance, “Dick’s commanding officer at Fort Mohave lost an arm at Bull Run. A senior officer at Camp McDowell is so crippled with rheumatism he has to be helped on a horse. Then why were you invalided out?”

  Dave watched her a long moment before he answered. “I’m not trying to be impertinent, but why do you care?”

  “Because I think you belong in the Army. Nobody has to tell me or Dick that you were a good officer. You showed it today without ever leading a man.”

  Dave put down his plate and then spoke slowly. “One way or another, I guess we’re all victims of circumstance. You became one when you joined this train. I became one when I was transferred to a weak command.”

  Juliana looked puzzled.

  Dave continued, “I came in from the field to serve under a man who had a soft job that he was afraid he’d lose if my major was promoted. He would go to any length to discredit the major. His way of doing it was through me. He complained of my work and doubted my physical ability to continue serving in the Army. This let him discredit my major’s judgment before review boards. He consistently questioned my major’s judgment in overlooking my infirmity.” Dave added wryly, “In other words, he was using me to stop the promotion of my major.”

  “Couldn’t you request a transfer?” Juliana asked.

  “It was turned down,” Dave said. “I was too useful to him as a whipping boy.”

  “So you resigned?”

  “Because my career was stopped. I coul
dn’t hope for a promotion, and neither could my major.”

  Juliana said musingly, “There are people in the Army like that, Dad says.”

  Dave nodded. “There are people like that anywhere, and they mostly get found out, just like my colonel did.”

  “Found out?”

  Dave nodded. “The year after I resigned my commission, the good colonel was convicted of channeling anything salable to the merchants of the garrison town and pocketing the money.”

  “But it was too late to help you.”

  Dave nodded, then smiled reminiscently, “But not too late to help my major. He’s now a brigadier general, and there’ll never be a better one.”

  Lieutenant Overman came up to the fire then and said, “I just sent my boys to bed. I think I’d better send you two.”

  “I think you’d better, too,” Dave said.

  Before he rolled into his blankets, Dave checked his two teamsters in the supply wagon. Everts was asleep, but Bailey was awake and feverish. There was pain in his eyes, but both men knew there was nothing to be done about it.

  Afterwards, so as to be near Bailey and Everts, Dave threw his blankets under the supply wagon and rolled in. In the few minutes before sleep came to him, he wondered why he had talked so openly to Juliana about his past. Had it seemed to her that he was an embittered crybaby? He didn’t think so, or at least he had not intended it to sound that way. Outside of the few transient officers he had served with, he had never told this bit of his history. It was important only to himself and was past.

  Maybe because Juliana was part of the Army, and because her father would undoubtedly tell her the story, it didn’t seem to him that he had been seeking sympathy. He had tried to make a simple statement of fact and it seemed to him that she accepted it as such. She was, Dave thought, a tough and perceptive girl, frank to bluntness, and he admired her because this was so.

  6

  Sergeant Brick Noonan lay in his blankets and listened to the activity and talk of the camp slowly die down. His shoulder throbbed with every beat of his pulse. Once again he reviewed the events of the afternoon that led to his intentional wounding. He had told Kirby at the very beginning to warn the men against shooting at a uniform that bore sergeant’s stripes since he himself would be wearing that uniform. The shot that hit him came from the left, on which arm he wore his sergeant’s chevrons. There could be no mistake about it; the shot was deliberate.