Ludlow quickly squeezed the trigger of his pistol. His wild shooting sent three slugs into the wall to the left of the bandits. By then Running Cougar, Tall Bear and Swift Horse had spread out to bring their weapons to bear on the fugitives.
Arlo Capman caught a bullet in the cheek. His hat flew in one direction and he crumpled down in another. The third man flung his pistol down to the floor and raised his hands.
The fight was over.
Hawkins quickly checked Capman and found him dead. A low moaning showed that Jim Pate had survived his wounds; at least temporarily. The uninjured man, his hands still above his head, glanced wildly around the room.
“Y’all didn’t have no call to do that,” he exclaimed nervously, spittle flying from his mouth. “By God! You sure as hell didn’t have no call to do that!”
The other patrons gave evidence they had seen shootouts before by keeping their hands conspicuously in view. They, like the stunned bartender, were confused as much by the strange sight of uniformed Indians as they were by the sudden violence that had erupted over their peaceful drinking scene.
Hawkins looked menacingly at the man holding up his hands. “Is your name Elmer Wright?”
The man glanced around as he took a better look at the Indians. “My name ain’t none of your damn business, soljer boy.”
Hawkins glowered at him. “You’re a real feisty son of a bitch, aren’t you? If you keep up that attitude, things are gonna get worse for you.”
The man silently glared at his adversaries.
Hawkins, glad to note that Ludlow Dooley had at least been able to fire his pistol, nodded to the lieutenant. “Keep this man covered.”
“Yes, sir!” Ludlow yelped. Embarrassed by the sound of his high-pitched reply, he turned his pistol on the stranger, the barrel wobbling unsteadily.
“You be careful, Slim!” the man yelled at him. “You’re as fidgety as a cornered possum. Don’t you go jerking on that trigger.”
Hawkins turned to Jim Pate, kneeling down and examining his wound. “You got one in the belly and the other in the arm.” He grabbed the limb and pulled it.
“Ow!” Pate hollered in pain. “Leave me be!”
“It’s busted,” Hawkins said. “You’re in serious shape.”
“Just go away,” Pate begged. He started to sit up, but couldn’t quite make it. “Oh, God! This is bad … real bad … I got a right to peace at a time like this, ain’t I?”
“That’s up to me,” Hawkins said. “And you know I’m not the sympathetic type.” He pointed to the man with his hands up. “Who is he?”
“Elmer Wright,” Pate answered.
“Godamn you to hell, Jim!” Wright bellowed at him. “What the hell’s the big idee of giving that soljer son of a bitch my name?”
Pate spat blood. “I got all the reason in the world, Elmer. I could be in my last moments here, and I want to spend ’em as comfortable as I can.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Wright asked. “Are you loco?”
“Them Injuns tortured me terrible,” Pate said. “I never got a chance to tell you about it. I don’t want ’em to do no more to me. And it wouldn’t matter a shit if’n I had only a minute to live. They’d make it pure hell.” He coughed and spat again. “You’d best to what this here cap’n tells you.” He pointed to Ludlow. “Him too. that’s Dangerous Dooley. He’s little and skinny, but he’s meaner’n hell.”
Wright, sensing he was in a most unusual and serious situation, calmed down as he tried to think. “I just wish somebody’d tell me what’s going on around here. I was having a drink with a coupla old friends, and y’all busted in here shooting.”
“It’s real easy to explain,” Hawkins said. “You’re under Fed’ral arrest for train robbery.”
“I never robbed no train,” Wright said.
“Oh, God, Elmer!” Pate said with his chest heaving. “Tell him the truth … or he’ll have them … he’ll have them Injuns hang you over a fire … you’ll git roasted.”
A voice sounded from the direction of the saloon entrance. “What the hell’s going on in there?”
Hawkins turned and could see a man wearing a star on his vest standing in the partially opened door. “Are you the sheriff?”
“I sure as hell am,” the lawman said. He looked at the Indian scouts. “Just who in hell —”
“This is the Kiowa-Comanche Detachment of the U.S. Scouts stationed at Fort Lone Wolf, Indian Territory,” Hawkins explained. “We’ve trailed these three men from a train robbery east of here. One is dead, another dying, and we got this other’n in Fed’ral custody.”
Wright yelled out in a beseeching voice, “Don’t let ’em take me, Fred. It’s bad news for all of us.”
The sheriff suddenly leaped from the door and disappeared from sight. The sound of his boots could be heard as he rushed down the boardwalk.
Hawkins glanced at Ludlow. “From the way he just jumped away, I’d say this isn’t over yet.”
Wright laughed. “It sure as hell ain’t. You and them Injuns ain’t never gonna get outta Sawyer alive.”
Chapter Nineteen
Second Lieutenant Ludlow Dooley was stunned for a few short moments. He had instinctively expected help from the local sheriff, and the man’s obvious noncooperation and outright antagonism confused him. Then the young officer remembered Captain Mack Hawkins’ warning about not being able to trust certain frontier lawmen.
Elmer Wright, grinning viciously in spite of having his hands cuffed behind him, fairly danced with joy. “Ol’ Fred Dawson is gonna see that your hash is settled once and for all.”
“I take it that Fred Dawson is your sheriff friend, huh?” Hawkins asked.
“That’s his name, and him and his deputies and pals is more’n enough to take care of a coupla soljer boys and a passel of Redskins,” Wright crowed. “This here’s our town, by God, and nobody comes in here and gets his own way without our say-so. And you ain’t got no backing from nobody in Sawyer a’tall.”
“It appears we’ve got to go on the attack,” Hawkins said. He motioned to the scouts. “Watch the streets. We’re gonna have to move and move fast. But first I want to make sure what’s out there.”
Wright observed the Indians rush to the front windows of the saloon with Hawkins right behind them. The outlaw was anxious to make a break for freedom to join the other drinkers who had fled the saloon. Wright glanced down at Jim Pate. He could see his old pal had given up the ghost and figured that Pate could do him one last favor even if he was dead. Wright glanced at Ludlow. “Ol’ Pate just stirred a bit there. Cain’t you make him comfortable? Why torment a dying man?”
“He looks to me like he’s dead,” Ludlow said.
“Well, I just seen him wiggle,” Wright lied. “He’s a tough ol’ boy. I reckon he’ll be around for a while more.”
“It could be,” Ludlow said. He walked over to the outlaw on the floor and knelt down. “I suppose even a man such as he deserves decent treatment.”
Wright quickly took advantage of the chance he had created for himself. He stepped forward and delivered a hard kick that caught the young officer in the side, knocking him to the floor. Then the bandit bolted toward the rear door.
Ludlow, in pain and angry as hell, was on his feet in an instant. He was furious and embarrassed. He quickly overtook Wright and hit him hard on the back of the head with the barrel of his Colt.
Wright stumbled forward and, because of his cuffed hands, was unable to break the fall. He hit the floor hard, and rolled over trying to stand up. But Ludlow Dooley was on top of him delivering several more hard blows with his pistol to the man’s skull. Hawkins ran over from his place by the windows and grabbed the young officer, pulling him away from the badly bleeding train robber.
Ludlow, pale with anger, struggled so hard that Hawkins almost lost his grip on him, but he was able to hold on long enough for the lieutenant to calm down. Hawkins grinned as he turned his second-in-command loose. “Damn, Mr.
Dooley! I’d like to get this fellow back for trial without his head caved in.”
“He kicked me!” Ludlow hissed in rage. “He kicked me hard and it hurt!” He made another lunge at Wright who rolled away.
“Keep him off me!” Wright begged. “That skinny feller is crazy!” He sincerely feared he was about to be beaten to death.
Hawkins held on to Ludlow. “Now you know why he’s called Dangerous Dooley. It’s all I can do to control him. You better not try any more tricks, or he’ll kill you before I can stop him.”
Ludlow stopped struggling, but he glared at Wright. “You better not hit or kick me again!”
Hawkins led Ludlow away from his victim. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen this side of you before, Mr. Dooley.”
Ludlow settled down and rubbed his sore side. “I don’t like anyone hitting or kicking me.” He turned to stare angrily at Wright, then turned back to Hawkins. “When I was a boy in school, I was the smallest kid in the class. I was picked on a lot and called names. I was generally too frightened of the bigger fellows to do anything about it. But if someone caused me physical pain, I forgot my fear. I would lose my head.”
“Beat ’em up, would you, Mr. Dooley?”
Ludlow grinned. “No. They generally beat me up. But I just couldn’t help myself.”
“You didn’t get beat up this time,” Hawkins pointed out.
“I was armed,” Ludlow said. “Back at school I didn’t have a pistol.”
“Well, Mr. Dooley, maybe I was worrying about nothing when I was anxious about you being able to shoot somebody. Under the right circumstances you really are dangerous, aren’t you?”
“Perhaps so,” Ludlow allowed. “Although ‘foolhardy’ might be a better description.”
Sergeant Eagle Heart suddenly yelled, “Many men in street. All got guns.”
Ludlow went to the window with Hawkins and looked out. “Sir, I think this may be a time when I hope I do go a bit insane.”
Hawkins counted no less than a dozen men. “I really hope so as well, Mr. Dooley.”
Suddenly the large windows shattered as a violent fusillade of bullets flew into the saloon. Everyone dropped to the floor. Hawkins yelled, “We’ve got to return fire quickly or they’ll have the upper hand.”
The captain got to his feet and charged forward, firing his pistol through the windows in the direction of the attack. The scouts immediately followed his example, and Ludlow joined in the defense.
Elmer Wright, with his hands still restrained, could not move because of the flying bullets. He closed his eyes and tried to press his body into the floor, hoping like hell that one of his pals didn’t accidentally shoot him.
A sudden increase of incoming bullets was so strong that the army men had to give up their return fire in the steel hailstorm that swept in from the street. The Indians, fatalistic, fought the instinct for survival and finally were able to get back to the window to exchange shots.
“They take our horses down street!” Sergeant Eagle Heart shouted.
“Shit!” Hawkins bellowed in rage. He chanced a quick glance. “There’s a barn or livery down there. I guess the bastards want to keep the animals out of the way ‘til they’ve finished dealing with us.”
Now additional firing began coming their way. This time from the rear of the saloon as the windowless wall split and shattered under the impact of many bullets. Some came close to Wright on the floor. He screamed, “Give it up, for God’s sake. I’ll tell my pals to leave you go.”
Hawkins was reloading bullets into the cylinder of his revolver. “Why don’t you tell ’em to surrender to us,” he suggested to the frightened outlaw.
Wright cringed. “You’re loco! If you keep shooting back, we’re all gonna die in here!”
“Then we’ll skip through hell together,” Hawkins snarled. He addressed the detachment. “We can’t stay here or it’s only a matter of time before we’re shot down. What’s needed is an all-out charge outta here and into the street.”
Ludlow looked outside. “Won’t that put us right under their guns, sir?”
“Yeah,” Hawkins said. “But only for the amount of time it’ll take us to get across behind the buildings over there. And don’t forget; some of ’em have gone around to the back of the salon.”
Ludlow, his classes in tactics suddenly remembered, nodded. “Right! They obviously weren’t expecting us to attempt to break of here. We should be able to find some protection in back of those stores.” Then he added, “Until they recover and the ones in back rejoin the others.”
“I didn’t say it would be easy, Mr. Dooley. I’m going to put you in charge of the prisoner.”
“Yes, sir,” Ludlow responded. He hurried over and grabbed Wright, struggling as he pulled the heavier man to his feet. “I’m ready, sir.”
“Right,” Hawkins said. He turned to the Indians. “Tall Bear and Swift Horse! You will lead the charge out. You gotta go as fast as you can. Do you know where we’re going?”
“Cross street to buildings over there,” Tall Bear replied.
“Right,” Hawkins said. “Next I want Corporal Running Cougar and Red Moon to follow. Run like hell. After that, Mr. Dooley and that son of a bitch will go.”
Wright protested loudly, yelling, “They’ll kill us out there, you crazy bastard.”
Ludlow gave the prisoner a hard tap on the head with his pistol. “Do you want to upset me again?”
“I don’t think so,” Wright said with a cautious look at the young officer.
“Sergeant Eagle Heart and I will bring up the rear,” Hawkins said. “We’ll move slower than the rest of you to maintain some covering fire. If we don’t make it, Lieutenant Dooley and Corporal Running Cougar are in charge.” Then he added, “You’ll get the hell out of here without checking on the two of us. That means when you reach the horses, mount up and make an escape as quick as you can with the pris’ner. Understood, Lieutenant?”
“Yes, sir. But you’ll make it all right, sir, don’t you worry.”
“Oh, I’m going to worry, Mr. Dooley. Believe me. You can bet the Widow Miller’s twenty-two dollars on it.”
A new eruption of gunfire blasted into the saloon causing everyone to instinctively duck. When it died down, Hawkins got to his feet. “Ever’body crowd up to the door and wait for my command.” As soon as they were in position, he yelled. “Charge!”
Tall Bear and Swift Horse led the way out with Corporal Running Cougar and Red Moon on their heels. The four immediately opened fire as they ran toward the stores across the street.
Ludlow grabbed Wright’s arm and pulled him along as he headed outside. The outlaw needed no urging. Knowing he was in as much danger as his captors, he went as fast as he could while bullets kicked up dust at their feet and slapped through the air around their heads.
Hawkins and Eagle Heart, moving at a steady pace, were next out into the street. Without taking the trouble to aim, each fired in a sweeping manner. The idea was for their combined shooting to form a moving field of fire that covered both flanks where their assailants were positioned.
The firing from the town gunmen, in their confusion and surprise had dropped off with the initial appearance of Hawkins and Eagle Heart. But they quickly recovered and immediately turned their full attention on the captain and sergeant. Luckily the surprise had paid off. Within a moment the pair, unharmed and out of breath, reached the others.
Sounds of yelling and running feet showed the attackers were readjusting their positions to cover both ends of town. “I’m sure the stronger bunch will be up toward that livery stable,” Hawkins surmised. “They know we need our horses.”
Ordinarily, the scouts would have rushed out independently in an attempt to reach their objective. This was typical of Indian warriors during the excitement of battle. But the relentless and repetitious drill by Captain Mack Hawkins had given them a sense of discipline they never had during their tribes’ nomadic days of hunting, plundering, and making war.
&n
bsp; “Let’s keep the same formation,” Hawkins ordered. He glanced at Ludlow and Wright. “And the same responsibilities.”
Tall Bear and Swift Horse, their pistols ready, waited for the order. The carbines they carried were useless because of having to breech load single shots. When Hawkins nodded to them, the pair of scouts moved down the alley, pausing before rushing across the open space between buildings. The heavily muscled Tall Bear, his green eyes gleaming with excitement, led the way toward the livery barn.
A sudden salvo of bullets splattered down on them from above. Swift Horse quickly aimed his revolver, firing three times. He was rewarded with the sight of a man on the roof of a nearby store spinning under the strike of a bullet, then losing his footing to plunge to the ground. A quick survey by the two scouts showed no other enemies nearby.
“Hold it, Tall Bear and Swift Horse!” Hawkins yelled. “Remember what I taught you about fire-and-maneuver. Corporal Running Cougar, Red Moon! Move to the front!”
Tall Bear and Swift Horse immediately found cover among some barrels, and covered Running Cougar and Red Moon as they rushed past.
The maneuver brought a fresh hail of bullets that splintered buildings, the alley fence, and the barrels. The four scouts returned fire, sending a swarm of .45 bullets that shattered a window in the building where the firing came from. Several wild yells showed at least a couple of the outlaws had been hit.
When Hawkins, Ludlow, Eagle Heart and their hapless prisoner reached Tall Bear and Swift Horse, the pair of scouts surged forward, moving past the spot where Running Cougar and Red Moon had now taken cover. The latter pair of scouts now provided covering fire for the other two who rushed down the alley until once again coming under fire.
This time from two sides.
Mack Hawkins knew that everything possible that can go wrong in a battle will do so. When that happens, the inexperienced or careless fighter will die. But years of combat had created instincts in the captain. Those intuitions quickly came into play.
Hawkins yelled over the sound of firing. “Detachment, move out!”
The entire group advanced down the alley. Tall Bear, at the front, took on that side of their impromptu formation. Swift Horse and Corporal Running Cougar fired to the left. The right was covered by Sergeant Eagle Heart and Red Moon with Hawkins firing at targets of opportunity. As they moved along, Ludlow continued hanging on to the thoroughly terrorized Elmer Wright as they fought their way toward the livery stable.
Crossed Arrows (A Long-Knives Western Book 1) Page 16
