“They’ve given up the chase, or they’re too far away for us to hear the shooting,” said Ed.
But all the Indians, seeing the futility of it, hadn’t taken part in the chase. Suddenly, out of the dark, a brawny arm was around Mark’s throat, and he could see his companions engaged in similar struggles. The Indians had discovered the rope! Mark’s adversary tried to throw him over the canyon rim, but Mark tore himself free and threw the Indian over, instead. Slowly, the eight men got the best of their opponents, several of whom were thrown over the canyon rim. The others were simply knocked senseless with the muzzle of a Colt. There was no shooting. Quickly, Mark hauled up the knotted lariats, and mounting their bare back Indian ponies, the eight men returned to their own horses. Each leading a captured horse on a lead rope, they set out for the wagons.
“Was anybody hurt?” Amanda and Betsy cried, running to meet them.
“Some Indians, as far as we know,” said Mark. “Estrello and some of his bunch are stampeding the horses. If they got hurt, it’s their own fault.”
It didn’t take long to stir the interest of the outlaws Estrello had left behind.
“Where’s the rest of our outfit?” Wilder demanded.
“They’re busy,” Mark said.
He told them nothing more. The riders hobbled the captured Indian horses, leaving them to graze.
Estrello and the rest of his outfit didn’t return for another two hours. Estrello made it a point to speak to Mark. “By God, Rogers, it worked. We run them horses until our own was give out. I got to give you credit.”
“Before you get too excited,” said Mark, “you’d better assign a heavy watch. It may be too far for those Indians to find their own horses tonight, but their camp’s not that far from ours. They could sneak in and rustle our stock, including the mules.”
“It ain’t but six hours until dawn,” Estrello said. “Wilder, choose a dozen men and take the first three hours. I’ll pick some men to join me for the second watch.”
To Mark’s surprise, he and none of his companions were chosen for either watch.
“Old Wolf seems to be softening up some,” Amanda said. “This is one of the few times he hasn’t put all of you on watch.”
“I think this is for the sake of his outfit,” said Vernon. “He doesn’t want his bunch to get the idea he’s all that dependent on us. We’ve already cleared out the Indians with very little help from him. Once we stampeded that herd, a bunch of schoolgirls could have kept it running.”
“Don’t say that loud enough for Estrello or any of his outfit to hear it,” Nick said. “Let them think they might find us useful again.”
“Not against those Indians,” said Mark. “They’re not fools. That trick won’t work for us again. When they finally catch up their horses, you can bet they’ll have sentries watching over the herd every night.”
During what remained of the night, Amanda and Betsy slept beside Mark and Bill. Not far away, a lonely cry drifted across the stillness.
“That’s the first coyote I’ve heard in a long time,” Amanda said, sitting up.
“That’s no coyote,” said Mark. “Listen when it comes again. Listen for the echo.”
The cry came again, trailing off mournfully.
“Yes, I heard the echo,” Amanda said. “What does it mean?”
“It means you’ve just heard an Indian making like a coyote,” Mark said. “A coyote’s cry won’t echo, but the human voice will.”
“Lord,” Betsy said, “does that mean they’re ready to come after us? Could they have found their horses so soon?”
“I doubt they’ll find their horses for several days,” said Bill, “but we can’t be sure. I just hope the hombres Estrello’s got on watch keep their eyes and ears open. It’s like Mark told Estrello. It wouldn’t be a bit unusual for the Indians to sneak into our own camp, taking enough horses and mules to round up their own mounts.”
Indian Territory. August 20, 1866.
But the remainder of the night was quiet, and Estrello had the outfit harnessing the teams, following a hurried breakfast.
“Those Indians know where we’re bound,” said Vernon. “That leaves us wide open for an ambush.”
“Again we’re at Estrello’s mercy,” Mark said. “We’ll be strung out in the wagons and can be picked off one at a time. Somebody should be scouting ahead, looking for Indian sign every day. If they’re able to take us by surprise, we’ll be wiped out.”
“It’s terrible,” said Amanda. “To save ourselves from Indians, we also have to save all these thieves and killers.”
“There’ll come a time when there’s nothing any of us can do,” Ed said. “These Indians know we’re bound for the Washita, and there have been as many as four or five hundred there to buy whiskey. All they have to do is join forces with the hundred or so who are after us now, and we’re all dead.”
“Maybe the others won’t try to take the whiskey without paying,” said Betsy.
“I’m afraid they’ll all be of the same mind,” Todd said. “This bunch after us now just got a little impatient. I don’t doubt they’ve had an eye on us since the whiskey was unloaded from the steamboats.”
When the teams were harnessed, the caravan moved out, heading west.
“I had hoped Estrello would be smarter than this,” said Bill.
“He hasn’t had that much Indian trouble,” Betsy said. “He’s counted on the whiskey to keep him on good terms with the renegades, and up to now, it has.”
“He can’t depend on that anymore,” said Bill. “With this bunch of Indians ready to kill us and take the whiskey, why wouldn’t the rest of them be of the same mind?”
“I’m afraid they will be,” Betsy said, “and if the rest of them are waiting for us at the Washita, I fear what’s going to happen.”
Amanda had taken her usual place beside Mark on the wagon box, and it was a while before either of them spoke.
“I hate for you to do anything more to help this bunch of outlaws,” Amanda said, “but do you suppose, for our sake, you should tell Estrello he needs a man scouting ahead for Indian sign?”
Mark sighed. “I reckon I’ll have to. Trouble is, Estrello will send some coyote such as Wilder, who may or may not be capable of reading sign.”
Eventually, when they stopped to rest the teams, Mark approached Estrello.
“You ought to have a scout riding ahead, looking for Indian sign,” said Mark.
“Yeah?” Estrello said. “You really think that bunch will have caught their horses by now? Hell, we chased ’em a good fifty miles.”
“That’s just one group of Indians,” said Mark. “You have no idea where the others are, or what they might do. I can promise you one thing: Word of what we did last night will spread, and whiskey or not, our scalps won’t be safe anywhere in the Territory.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Estrello conceded. “Tomorrow I’ll send a rider ahead with an eye for Indian sign.”
But tomorrow would be too late. Shortly after midnight the Indians struck. Not for the purpose of killing, but to stampede the horses and mules. The first warning they had was a spine-chilling war whoop, echoed many times by other warriors. Horses nickered in terror, mules brayed, and at least half the animals stampeded to the west. Suddenly, all was quiet, as the thunder of hooves died away.
“Anybody hurt?” Estrello shouted.
There was no answer, except a bitter laugh from Wilder. “Hell, we’re more than hurt. They just give us a dose of our own medicine. We likely don’t have enough mules left to draw even one or two wagons. Now they can come back whenever they damn please and finish us.”
“Estrello,” Mark said, “you didn’t stampede those horses far enough. They all likely started drifting back toward that Indian camp. We gained only one day.”
“Damn it, we run them horses a good fifty miles,” said Estrello. “Your plan just didn’t work, that’s all.”
“Then I’ll let you decide how you aim to gathe
r those horses and mules,” Mark said. “Vernon and Nick are taking a count to see how many we’ve lost.”
Vernon and Nick had grim news. “They stampeded all the mules except five,” said Vernon. “Our horses—including those eight we brought back from the Indian camp—were picketed and didn’t run. Most of the rest of them—loose and grazing—are gone. There’s only ten of those horses.”
“Wouldn’t make no difference if we had a hundred horses,” Irvin said. “We’ll never find our horses and mules in the dark, and come first light, the Indians will round ’em up.”
“Not if we round ’em up first,” said Estrello. “Every one of you who still has a horse, saddle up. There’s a moon, and before moonset, we’ll gather as many of our animals as we can.”
“That’s a damn fool idea, Estrello,” Wilder said.
“Maybe,” said Estrello through gritted teeth, “but unless you can come up with something better, we’ll go with it.”
Bill, Mark, and their teamster companions saddled up, Mark taking one of the eight horses they had ridden from the Indian camp the night before.
“There’s eighteen horses left,” Estrello said. “Saddle up as I call your names.” He mentioned seventeen names. “You’ll be riding with me. The rest of you will remain here with the wagons.”
“Do be careful,” Betsy warned. “They may be expecting you.”
Mark, Bill, and their companions allowed Estrello and his men to take the lead. They then rode out—eighteen strong—toward the west, the direction in which the stampede had gone.
“Just like the varmints to stampede ’em into Indian Territory,” Suggs growled. “It’ll be hard as hell to see anything in the shadows of the trees.”
Warily, they rode on, and not more than three miles distant, they heard shuffling in the dead leaves and brush. They reined up, waiting. In a patch of moonlight two mules appeared.
“Hiram, Odell,” said Estrello, “catch and hobble them. Then we’ll go looking for the rest of them.”
That proved more difficult than they had hoped. They rode almost five miles before finding several of the horses and another mule.
“We’ll never get them all before first light,” Shadley said.
“Yeah,” said Wilder, “and in daylight, we’ll likely get ambushed by them Indians.”
“Rogers,” Estrello said, “do you have any ideas?”
“Why would you want another of my ideas?” Mark asked. “You didn’t halfway live up to the last one.”
“Try me again,” said Estrello. “We have to have those mules and horses.”
“You’ll find them at the Indian camp,” Mark said. “The five animals we’ve found were lost along the way. The Indians took the rest of them, so we couldn’t round them up.”
“They’ll all be expecting us to come after our horses and mules,” said Bill, “so there’ll be a heavy guard. Waiting for the first light will cost us our scalps.”
“You’re sayin’ we should go after ’ em tonight at the Indian camp?” Estrello asked.
“I am,” said Mark.
“So am I,” Bill said.
“I see the sense of it,” said Estrello, “but they won’t fall for that stampede a second time.”
“Nobody said anything about another stampede,” Mark said. “This time, we’ll have to attack the camp itself, shooting to kill. If the horses and mules scatter, then so be it, but we have to end this Indian threat before we go looking for our livestock.”
“There’s twenty-six of us,” said Estrello. “You’d have us attack a hundred or more Indians?”
“Hell’s fire,” Suggs growled, “we’ll be out-numbered more’n five to one.”
“If we set here until they jump on us,” said Clemans, “they’ll still outnumber us. We got to do as Mark suggests, and move first, if we’re to have a chance.”
“Wolf,” Wilder said, “why don’t you just step aside and let Rogers run the show entirely? He’s got all the answers.”
“Wilder,” said Mark, “I don’t claim to have all the answers, but I have some of them. Bill and me fought Comanches in Texas since we were twelve years old. All you’ve done is look down your damn nose and criticize. Unless you have something worth bein’ heard, back off and shut up.”
“I’ll second that,” Hiram said. “Rogers told it straight when we stampeded them Indian horses. We just didn’t run’em far enough.”
“I judged it was plenty far enough,” said Estrello angrily.
“You judged wrong,” Mark said, “or these Indians giving us hell would still be afoot, looking for their horses.”
“Rogers was right about the stampede, like it or not,” said Estrello. “Why not give him his head and see what he can do this time? Remember, if you don’t like his plan, then before you disagree, you’d best have a better one.”
“Yeah, let Rogers do it,” Irvin said. “I want to watch him round up the horses and mules in the dark.”
“You’ll have a long wait, Irvin,” said Mark. “We’ll gather our stock in the daylight. Tonight we must find that Indian camp and eliminate as much of that threat as we can. It’s a favorite Indian trick to stampede the horses and then pick us off one or two at a time while we’re rounding ’em up.”
“Then let’s go looking for that damn Indian camp,” Estrello said. “It ain’t that long till first light.”
“With most of us gone, it’d be a good time for them to come back for the whiskey,” said Patton.
“No, they won’t,” Stackler said. “The next move is ours. They’re expecting us to try to avoid a fight because of their greater numbers. Then when we begin looking for our stock, they’ll ambush us two or three at a time, just like Mark said. When there’s no way out of a fight, choose your own ground and your own time.”
The twenty-six of them rode west, the way the stock had stampeded. This time, Mark took the lead, the others following. After riding some ten miles, they stopped to rest their horses.
“Mark’s dead right, so far,” said Ursino. “We’ve seen no horses or mules, reason enough to believe they’ve either scattered them all over creation, or driven them on to their camp. The three or four animals we found just managed to break away while they were being driven.”
“One thing in our favor,” Hiram said. “We’re ridin’ into the wind, and there’s less chance of us stumbling into them before we know they’re there.”
“It’s too late at night for a fire,” said Bill, “so there won’t be any smoke to guide us this time.”
The first warning they had was the distant braying of a mule. Mark reined up, speaking barely above a whisper.
“We’ll leave the horses here, and some of us will go ahead on foot. We’ll need a look at their camp. Bill, you come with me. The rest of you wait with the horses. Be watchful—they may have scouts circling the camp.”
Mark and Bill crept carefully on. Suddenly, a pair of shadows came at them, the light of twinkling stars reflecting off the knives in the upraised hands of the enemy. As they had learned long ago in Texas, Bill and Mark each seized the wrist of the hand wielding the knife and fought for possession of it. Slowly but surely, the Texans forced their opponents to release the weapons, which they then used to silence their foes.
“By the Eternal,” said Bill, “I hope we’re not close enough for the rest of them to have heard us. Better wait a minute.”
They waited, holding their breath, but there was no sign the scuffle had been heard. Cautiously, they moved on, pausing when they heard a horse nicker. The camp was close, their danger great, but they had to know what kind of situation they were facing. Again one of the horses nickered, and Bill paused, his hand on Mark’s arm.
“There’s some of ’em in with the horses and mules,” Bill whispered. “That’s our horses and mules, and the Indians are spooking them.”
“Let’s get a little closer,” said Mark softly. “We need to know where their camp is in relation to the horses and mules. They’ll stampede when
we attack, and we want them to run back toward the wagons if possible.”
It was a bold move, for if the horses and mules ran west—deeper into the Territory—they would be all the more difficult to gather. Some of them might never be seen again. Suddenly, a horse nickered only a few feet away, and there were soothing voices as Indians tried to calm the animals. Of a single mind, Bill and Mark turned and went back the way they had come. They dared not go any closer. Reaching the place where they had left the two dead Indians, they froze. The bodies were gone! Before they could make a move, they were surrounded by seven Indians, all armed with lances and three of them with Winchesters. Bill and Mark were forced around the grazing horses and mules, on into the Indian camp. Surprisingly, although there was no fire, the camp seemed alive with activity, a virtual certainty the Indians planned an attack at dawn. Bill and Mark had their weapons taken, their wrists and ankles bound with rawhide, and were then shoved facedown.
Ralph Compton Whiskey River Page 20
