Crossed Arrows (A Long-Knives Western Book 1)

by Patrick E. Andrews

  “Get there?” Ludlow exclaimed. “I thought we were on our way back to Fort Lone Wolf.”

  “That’s what I wanted that sheriff to think,” Hawkins said. “After we reach our old bivouac, we’ll stop. I want to make sure we’re not followed. Then we’ll use this map the sheriff gave me to find the Little Dog River. It will lead us directly to the town of Sawyer.”

  “Don’t you trust the sheriff, sir?”

  “There is something very important for you to learn as long as you’re out here on the frontier, Mr. Dooley. A hell of a lot of peace officers in these parts have spent about as much time on one side of the law as the other. Sheriff Coates back there in Starshine may well be a dedicated, honest officer of the law. On the other hand, he might be a good friend of Bill Stucker the leader of the train robbers. But I’m sure as hell not gonna take any chances on his honesty no matter what.”

  “That’s hard to believe, sir.”

  “Well, it’s true. There’s been more’n one instance when a sheriff in one county can’t go into the next for fear of getting arrested for some crime he’d committed in that particular area.”

  “I’ll remember that, sir.”

  Hawkins called out, “Sergeant Eagle Heart! Have one of our scouts keep an eye to the rear. I need to find out if we’re being followed or not.”

  The sergeant sent Tall Bear on the reconnaissance mission. Ludlow was glad the adventure was to continue. But the more he thought about a face-to-face meeting with Mrs. Miller, the more nervous he became.

  His imagination kept replaying a mental stage play in his head. He saw the scenes over and over, in which the widow either appreciated his honesty when he visited her with the truth about her spouse’s death, or cursed him as the murderer of the father of her children.

  Another aspect he imagined, was her breaking down piteously and lamenting the loss of the family’s provider with cries of how they would surely starve. But no matter the scenario he dreamed up, she always appeared in his mind as small, attractive woman with a sweet smile on her sad face.

  “Hold it up!” Hawkins yelled out, breaking in Ludlow’s reverie. “We’re camping here again for the night.”

  They were back at the old bivouac at the creek in the grove of trees. Ludlow Dooley didn’t realize he had been lost in thought for so much time.

  Sergeant Eagle Heart pulled his feet from his stirrups and leaped up to stand on his saddle. He looked rearward for a few moments. “I no see Tall Bear. Maybe he find something.”

  “Maybe so,” Hawkins agreed, dismounting.

  Ludlow, his proficiency in bivouacking improving, quickly hobbled and unsaddled his horse. After arranging his gear for the night, he joined the others by a small fire that Red Moon had started. There was still some rabbit left over from the previous day, and the two officers and scouts enjoyed the taste of the meat after searing it over the flames.

  “By the way, Mr. Dooley,” Hawkins said between bites. “I’ve noticed that something extraordinary has happened to you.”

  Ludlow was puzzled. “What’s that, sir?”

  “You’re doing a fine job of riding your horse. It appears you’re turning into a first rate cavalryman in spite of yourself.”

  Ludlow smiled in delight. “Why so I am! It would seem the instruction out here is superior to that in the riding hall at West Point.”

  “You could well be on your way to a fine career in the cavalry.”

  Ludlow, now in a better mood, contentedly ate his meal.

  ~*~

  Two hours went by before Tall Bear finally showed up. He stepped down from the saddle and accepted a piece of rabbit from Running Cougar, then walked over to Hawkins and Eagle Heart. “Men follow us,” he said between bites. “They keep on trail from length of sun to travel one hand.”

  Hawkins nudged Ludlow. “That’s about two and a half hours.”

  “I see,” Ludlow said. “Then they were interested in what we were going to do.”

  “I imagine Sheriff Coates will let Bill Stucker know we had come looking for him. That’ll back up whatever Arlo Capman and Jim Pate say when they get to Sawyer. And Coates will also give him the impression that we headed back to Fort Lone Wolf.”

  “So we’ll surprise them, right, sir?”

  “Surprise isn’t the word for what I have in mind for the bastards.”

  Ludlow finished his hunk of meat and tossed the bone into the fire. “Do you think the sheriff in Paso Cruz allowed Pate and Capman to escape?”

  “No,” Hawkins answered. “If he had, he sure wouldn’t have sent us a telegram to let us know. Coates in Starshine showed that message to me so he wouldn’t have to answer any questions about it later. Hell, he can even say he gave us a map to Sawyer.”

  “That’s going to be his downfall,” Ludlow opined. “We’ll be able to find Sawyer more quickly now.”

  Hawkins pulled the map from his tunic and tossed it over to Ludlow. “I guess the son of a bitch is helping us more than he figured he would.”

  Ludlow studied the map for a few moments, then frowned. “Sir, this map is useless. Nothing is to scale and you can’t tell magnetic north from true north. Any fool can see that no surveying azimuths or other cartographical verifications have been used in its creation.”

  “Then I must be just any fool!” Hawkins snapped.

  “I’m sorry, sir. But I am a military engineer with extensive instruction in topography.”

  “You sure as hell don’t have to keep reminding me you’re a West Pointer, Lieutenant. Of course, I came up through the ranks so I wouldn’t know a real map from a mule’s ass, would I?”

  “I didn’t mean any disrespect, sir.”

  Hawkins chuckled. “I’m just joshing you, Mr. Dooley. Believe me, I’m damned happy you spotted that map for not being professional or accurate. Sheriff Coates said some railroad men drew it up. I’m sure it was a hasty job on their part without worrying about scale. They were more interested in terrain features. And that’s all we’re interested in.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “It lets us know a bit about the lay of the land and the fact that the Little Dog River flows to Sawyer,” Hawkins explained. “That’s a lot of help.”

  Sergeant Eagle Heart had grown tired of listening to the two officers talk. “What we do?”

  “I know Indians can find a white wolf in a snow storm or a black bear in a dark cave by just sniffing them out,” Hawkins said to the sergeant. “So I figure between the five of you scouts, the town of Sawyer is just as good as sitting next to us.”

  “You want to go to town. We find ’em,” Sergeant Eagle Heart promised.

  “We’ll head there first thing in the morning,” Hawkins said. “It’s on a river, but we can’t tell how far it is.”

  “We find river,” Sergeant Eagle Heart said.

  “I’m sure you will,” Hawkins said. “It’ll make tomorrow a busy day for you.”

  “Big bright moon tonight,” the sergeant said. “Why you wait, Cap’n?”

  Ludlow was also anxious. “Yes, sir. Why wait to get moving toward our objective?”

  “Hell! If you’re all that anxious; let’s go,” Hawkins said.

  Within moments the detachment was involved in the necessary packing and saddling for the difficult task of finding a certain town in the countless thousands of square miles of wild Texas country.

  When they moved out on the difficult quest, the captain wisely left Sergeant Eagle Heart and the scouts alone. He wanted to allow the Indians to practice their ancient skills of making their way across uncharted land they had never traveled before.

  The scouts were one with the environment. Countless eons of nomadic culture, breeding and inherited skills dominated the intellects and physical aspects of the five men. Smells on the wind, a pattern in the growth of buffalo grass, and the direction in which certain flocks of birds flew acted as direction indicators in the summer environment on the plains. To all Indians of the great North American steppes, su
ch things were as good as street signs to the urban dwellers of eastern cities. Navigation in the winter could be enhanced by designs left by drifting snow, how ice formed on creeks or rivers, and the drift of snow-laden clouds across wintry skies.

  Sergeant Eagle Heart, Corporal Running Cougar, Tall Bear, Swift Horse, and Red Moon all knew approximately in which direction they were to go. If asked to explain exactly how they could find their way, all would answer in the same way: “Our medicine is strong!”

  The trek across the moonlit prairie country went on slowly with a bit of wandering back and forth at times. But it still progressed to the satisfaction of the quintet of scouts. Now and then they came to a complete halt, seemingly staring blankly out into space. Then suddenly one of more of them would point in a certain direction, and the detachment moved off along that track, drawing ever closer to their destination.

  The Little Dog River was first sighted as a dancing reflection of light just below the horizon. The bright moon, beaming fiercely, sent a yellow glow that rippled with the slow movement of water.

  They rode up to the banks of the waterway and reined in to a halt. Mack Hawkins pointed southward. “According to the map, the town of Sawyer is in that direction.”

  Corporal Running Cougar said, “I smell it.”

  “Many white men,” Tall Bear added.

  Swift Horse nodded his agreement, punctuating it with, “Uh!”

  Red Moon looked at Hawkins. “We be at town when the sun there.” He pointed in an eastern direction, at a point just above the horizon.

  Hawkins chuckled. “I always like to reach a place early of a morning.” He glanced at Ludlow Dooley. “Before tomorrow’s midday, you may have more’n one widow to visit.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Remember what I said about having to depend on you,” Hawkins reminded him. “Don’t let me down or there won’t be any sad ladies pining for outlaw husbands and sweethearts.” He grinned. “There’d prob’ly be a certain school teacher at the Kiowa-Comanche Agency who might shed a tear for me. Are there any women back in New York State that would wear black if they heard you went to the hereafter, Mr. Dooley?”

  “Only my mother, sir.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Red Moon’s prediction on the time of their arrival at the town of Sawyer proved to be absolutely accurate. The Kiowa-Comanche Scout Detachment with Captain Mack Hawkins and Sergeant Eagle Heart at the head of the formation, reined up a hundred yards short of the isolated community. The sunrise was barely showing on the eastern horizon, and dark shadows were cast by the seven horsemen.

  “Are we going to charge in there and get Pate and Capman, sir?” Ludlow Dooley asked.

  “As much as I would like to, I’m afraid it wouldn’t do us any good, Mr. Dooley. They’re not in town yet. Remember we had a head start on them. I don’t expect those two to show up before tomorrow or the next day.”

  “Then what is our first course of action, sir?”

  “Are you forgetting there’s another fellow in that town we want to get our hands on?” Hawkins asked.

  Ludlow displayed an embarrassed grin. “I guess I did, sir.” Then he quickly added, “But I remember his name; it’s Elmer Wright.”

  “I think we’d better find a safe spot to stay out of sight, then I’ll come up with a plan on how to keep the mission going smoothly.”

  “Maybe there’s a place down by the river,” Ludlow suggested.

  “And maybe there’s an early morning fisherman or two who might spot us,” Hawkins said. “We’ll move off toward that brushy area to the east. I can’t think of any reason why one of the townsfolk would be over there at this time of day.”

  The group turned and rode toward a section of rises and dips in the terrain. They didn’t have to go far before they found a depression ringed by heavy brush. Hawkins led the way into the natural concealment and dismounted. The others followed his example.

  “Sergeant Eagle Heart,” Hawkins said. “Set your men up for guard.”

  The sergeant said a few words to the scouts, and they remounted and rode out to provide security for the bivouac. Hawkins motioned for Ludlow and the senior scout to follow him over to one side of the shallow gully. They all settled down and made themselves comfortable.

  Hawkins opened the conversation on a pessimistic note. “We have a problem. We have to nab a certain outlaw by the name of Mr. Elmer Wright, but we don’t know what he looks like.”

  Ludlow spoke up. “Maybe we can ask somebody.”

  “That would get us the information, right enough, Mr. Dooley, but it would also let him know we’re after him. That’s the last thing we want to do.”

  “What if we disguised ourselves like we did when we got Jim Pate, sir?”

  “He’d still be suspicious,” Hawkins countered.

  Sergeant Eagle Heart said, “Wait for other two fellers. We get ’em all one time.”

  “The problem is that when they show up, we’re not going to be able to avoid one hell of a gunfight.”

  “Are you sure, sir?”

  “I am positive, Mr. Dooley. I doubt very much if Pate and Capman would cheerfully agree to become our prisoners again.” He swung his eyes to Sergeant Eagle Heart. “Call the scouts back and tell ’em to keep a sharp eye out for our friends Pate and Capman. There’s no telling when they might show up.”

  The sergeant replied, “That what they do now. They look for them two. When they see ’em, they come for us.”

  “You figured that’s what we’d end up doing, didn’t you?”

  Sergeant Eagle Heart shrugged. “White men spend too much time talking.”

  “That’s fine, Sergeant. We’ll bide our time until then.” He nudged Ludlow. “Check your weapons, Mr. Dooley. I want them all loaded for bear.”

  “I assure you they are loaded, sir. But I will reinspect them just the same.” He walked over to his horse to pull the carbine from its boot.

  While the young officer checked his weaponry, Hawkins laid back in the thick grass and tipped his hat over his face. Within a few minutes he was fast asleep. Ludlow finished his task and sat down in the shade provided by one of the brush-clustered earthen banks.

  The sun had gained height in the sky by then, and it promised to be a windless, rather hot day. Ludlow glanced over at his sleeping commander, envying the man’s ability to take a nap while the certainty of a gun battle hung over them. Between anxiety over exchanging shots with outlaws and meeting Widow Miller, Ludlow’s nervous wakefulness had returned with a vengeance.

  The scouts returned from their reconnaissance at mid-morning. They gave their report to Sergeant Eagle Heart in the inter-tribal language while Hawkins came awake and sat up. Eagle heart walked over and squatted down by the captain. “Them two fellers go to the town. They there now.”

  “They must have been traveling all night too,” Ludlow remarked.

  “And the day before as well,” Hawkins said, getting to his feet. “They’re in a desperate hurry. Let’s get this over with. The sooner we move, the sooner this mission is accomplished.”

  Ludlow Dooley nervously licked his lips. “What’re your plans, sir?”

  “Plans?” Hawkins asked. “Hell, we’re gonna ride in there and either capture or kill those three bastards.”

  “How will we find them, sir?”

  “They’ll be in a saloon,” Hawkins said. “They just broke jail and have been riding like sons of bitches for the past coupla days. They’ll want a drink, Mr. Dooley.”

  “But, sir,” Ludlow said. “We can’t spend a lot of time walking around. How will we know which saloon they’ll be in?”

  “A town like that couldn’t support more’n one, Mr. Dooley. Do you have any more questions?”

  “No, sir. Sorry, sir.”

  Hawkins gestured to the group. “Mount up!”

  In a matter of moments the seven men of the detachment bounded out of the draw and cantered boldly across the Texas prairie directly toward the nearby town of Sawyer
.

  Hawkins and Sergeant Eagle Heart took the lead while Ludlow and Corporal Running Cougar were directly behind them. Tall Bear, Swift Horse and Red Moon brought up the rear of the formation. Within fifteen minutes, the detachment rode into Sawyer as citizens looked at the strange sight of two white army officers with Indians dressed in army uniforms.

  Hawkins was correct in his assumption of the number of saloons in Sawyer, Texas. The town had only one, but it was large, occupying the middle of the business district. The captain, patient but alert, rode slowly up to the hitching rack in front of the drinking establishment. He and the scouts surveyed the windows and roofs of nearby buildings. Lieutenant Ludlow Dooley noticed their actions and followed the good example.

  “Dismount,” Hawkins said softly.

  The scout detachment swung out of their saddles. Ludlow nervously gulped so loud his companions could hear it.

  “We’re depending on you, Mr. Dooley,” Hawkins reminded him. “Remember that talk?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “For ever’body’s sake, you’ll have to be a soldier. And for your sake too, Mr. Dooley.”

  Ludlow remained silent.

  Hawkins pulled his issue Colt revolver from his holster and gestured to the others to follow his example. Then he stepped up on the boardwalk and strode toward the saloon’s batwing doors with his men following.

  Hawkins didn’t hesitate as he stepped inside. The bartender, four drinkers at the bar, and three more at a table turned casually to glance at who had come in.

  “Godamn it!” Jim Pate yelled, leaping up from his chair. He attempted a fast draw of his revolver, but Hawkins, Eagle Heart and Red Moon quickly responded by simultaneously firing at the outlaw. As the pistol detonations filled the barroom, Ludlow stood still as a stone.

  Two bullets plowed into Pate, causing him to lurch awkwardly and collide with the table behind him. He collapsed to the floor as Arlo Capman and the man who had been sitting with him, moved backward as both quickly fired several unaimed shots.