“Hannah?”
“Go back to the major’s daughter.”
Then the lights went out inside. Colt rapped again, but there was no answer. He went around to her window, but it had been closed. Well, what the hell? He must look like a perfect fool, banging on doors and lurking around windows. A sentry might shoot him as a prowler. Maybe Hannah was right. There was nothing to discuss and anyway, what could he offer her? His good sense told him he should pursue the beautiful and rich Olivia. And yet, he yearned for the arms of the slender Texas girl.
In disgust, he returned to his quarters and spent a sleepless night.
The next morning, there was a somber funeral for Captain Van Smyth that everyone attended. Both Hannah and Olivia acted as if Colt didn’t exist, and the major was so busy conducting the ceremony that he didn’t seem to notice the situation as they put the plain wooden box in a prairie grave and Hannah scattered a few wildflowers on it. The bugle played a long, mournful dirge, and six soldiers fired rifles over the grave, the shots echoing over the desolate prairie.
After everyone else had left, Colt stood there a few minutes, regretting the senseless loss of life and the fact that the inexperienced officer who hated Texas would spend eternity out here on the lonely vast plains with coyotes howling over his grave. He hadn’t loved Texas like Colt did. The captain had been a man of civilization, not a frontiersman who loved a challenge.
As for Sarge, he would get no burial at all. By now the aging son of Ireland’s bones were being scattered by animals and the howling winds would blow his ashes to mix with the west Texas sand. They had left two other good men back in that arroyo, too, and there would be no official burial for them, either. Such was the fate of good soldiers.
Colt returned to his quarters to concentrate on writing a report about the battle. Since he was the surviving superior officer, he also added a note to the one the major would write. He didn’t tell the aunt all the terrible details, only that her nephew had died bravely in the line of duty, and that the Second Cav was proud of him and would be sending a medal.
It was past noon when Colt heard a horse galloping madly and rose to go to the door. A small boy raced onto the post, his bay horse lathered and the boy bleeding. He fell off the exhausted horse right in front of Colt’s quarters.
Colt ran up and gathered the boy into his arms. “What’s wrong? Who are you?”
The little boy looked up at him, bloody and terrified. “... Texas Rangers sent me for help. Comanche have everyone surrounded at my folks’ ranch.”
Men were running now from every direction.
“You’re okay now, boy. Who are you? Where’s the ranch?”
The boy broke into sobs. “I’m—I’m Jed Schultz. Our spread is about twenty miles west of here.”
Colt handed the injured boy to Doc, who had just come out of the infirmary. “Someone get the major and have the bugler sound boots and saddles.”
Doc took the child in his arms and grinned. “Come on, young man. After I bandage you up some, we’ll have some dinner.”
The major came out just then, accompanied by Olivia. Colt ran over to him, saluted. “Sir, Comanches have attacked the Schultz ranch about twenty miles west of here. The Texas Rangers are holdin’ them off, but they need help.”
In the background, the bugle rang out and others came running from their quarters.
“Sir,” Colt said, “I’d like to mount a patrol.”
“Not you,” Olivia wailed. “You just got back from a patrol. Daddy, send someone else.”
“Be quiet, Olivia!” the major barked. “Yes, Lieutenant Prescott, get all the men you need and make sure you have plenty of ammo.”
Men were pushing up in front of Colt. “Sir, I’d like to volunteer. Take me with you.”
“And me, sir!”
“Me too, sir!”
It felt good to know the soldiers had such confidence in him. He picked out a dozen of his best men, and in minutes, the horses were saddled up. Colt ordered Rascal to be left in the stable to recover and took a blood bay thoroughbred.
Now he turned to his new, young sergeant. Someday, he might be as good a soldier as old Sarge. Colt must not think about that now. “Sergeant Clancy, are the troops ready?”
The man saluted. “Yes, sir.”
“Then mount the troops.”
The order went down the line, echoing in the tense silence as the Cavalry mounted up. Colt stood by his horse, looking around at the gathered crowd. In the background, he saw Hannah’s worried face, but she didn’t approach. Just before he swung into his saddle, Olivia threw herself into his arms. “Oh, my darling, come home safely to me!”
He managed to pull away from her, but Hannah was already gathering up her little boy and heading for her cabin. Well, there was nothing he could do about that now. She’d have to think what she liked. He had Indians to fight.
He mounted and swung into the lead next to his Tonk scout and Sergeant Clancy.
The air was both hot and tense as the Cavalry trotted out from the fort. Colt turned in his saddle and looked back. A tearful Olivia waved a lace hankie at him. He pretended he didn’t see her.
He spoke to his sergeant. “Let’s ride as fast as we can without exhaustin’ our horses.”
“Yes, sir.” The young, red-haired man saluted and wheeled his mount to ride back to the ranks.
Yes, the Cavalry tradition continues, Colt thought with a smile. The army would always be there; Sergeant Clancy replacing Sergeant Mulvaney, and soon, a new captain and a new lieutenant, too.
Helluva thing, Colt thought, a dangerous patrol on the very day he had to decide whether to reenlist. He must be a fool to have volunteered. Maybe he should have played it safe and let the major send someone else, but that wasn’t the way with Texans. If there was fighting to be done, they only felt comfortable in the middle of it.
Right now, he couldn’t think about women or danger. There was a fight ahead and he and his patrol would soon be in the thick of it. He might get killed and not have to make his monumental decision. But right now, the Second Cav was raring for a fight and he only hoped the patrol reached the ranch in time.
Chapter 18
Back at the fort, Hannah had stood in her cabin door and watched with regret as the troops rode out. Suppose Colt didn’t come back? She was sorry she hadn’t said good-bye to him, but with Olivia making such a melodramatic scene, Hannah knew she had no chance to even approach him. What would she have said anyway? It would be best if Hannah got herself out of the picture completely. She didn’t want to ruin Colt’s rosy future and promotion. What to do? She hadn’t earned enough money for stagecoach fare and had no place to go anyway.
There was nothing left of the view of the Cavalry now but a small cloud of red dust on the distant horizon. Hannah sighed, picked up Travis, and returned to the store.
Olivia came in an hour later, wearing a fine yellow dress.
Hannah took a deep breath. “May I help you?”
The major’s daughter looked her up and down, cold scorn in her dark eyes. “The ladies liked the tea cakes.” Her voice was grudging.
“Thank you.”
Olivia looked around the little store. “I don’t suppose you have any French imported soap or scented English talcum?”
“I’m afraid not.” Hannah tried to be polite.
“Goodness gracious, it’s terrible to have to do without nice things out here on the frontier.” The beauty came toward the counter, and before Hannah could stop him, little Travis ran out and smiled up at Olivia, grabbed at the folds of her dress.
Olivia backed away in horror.
Hannah hurried around the counter to pick up the chubby toddler. “I’m sorry.”
“Well, you should be.” Olivia drew herself up proudly. “Just look, that little half-breed brat has gotten smears on this expensive yellow silk.”
“He didn’t mean to,” Hannah defended her child hotly, “and I’d appreciate it if you’d not call him names.”
>
“Well, that’s what he is, everyone says so.”
Hannah was facing the shorter girl now, her temper blazing, and without thinking, she slapped Olivia.
Olivia set up a howl and a flood of tears. “You—you harlot, you! I really came in here to tell you to stop chasing after Lieutenant Prescott. Everyone says you’re making a spectacle of yourself.”
“How dare you!” Hannah advanced on her. “Now get out of here before I show you just how mad a real Texas gal can get!”
Olivia turned and ran out of the store, her sobs echoing all the way down the road.
“Well, Travis, I reckon that finishes it.” She set the child on the floor and went behind the counter to get him a cookie. “She’ll have us both thrown off the post now. Where are we to go?”
The child merely giggled and accepted the cookie while Hannah leaned against the counter and tried to think. The situation was dire. She should have held her temper, but she would not allow anyone to call her precious child a “half-breed brat.”
In less than half an hour, as Hannah was restocking shelves, Mr. Hutton came through the door. He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Brownley, we need to talk.”
Her spirits sank. “About what?”
“Uh, I’ve had some complaints that some customers think you might be stealing.” He stared at the floor and stubbed his toe.
“Stealing? That’s outrageous. I would never do such a thing.”
He looked at her a long moment, and she knew he didn’t believe it, either. “I—I’ve had some complaints—” he began.
“Never mind, Mr. Hutton. I know the major’s daughter is behind this. I’ll save you the trouble of firing me. I quit.” She took off her apron and came out from behind the counter. “You owe me three dollars for my past work.”
He came around to the cash register and looked shame-faced. “I’m really sorry.”
She felt sudden sympathy for him. “I know. A sutler is sort of beholden to the commanding officer. It’s okay.”
He handed her some money and she looked at it. He had given her an extra dollar.
“You didn’t need to do that.” She tried to hand it back, but he shook his head.
“Please take it. It makes me feel better about this.”
She stuffed the money in the pocket of her worn dress, picked up her chubby toddler, and started out the door. What in the hell was she going to do now with only a few dollars and Olivia scheming to get her thrown out of the fort? Colt might have been able to help her, but he was gone for the next several days and anyway the young officer surely realized which side his bread was buttered on. She started to walk away from the store just as farmer Holbrinker drove up and reined in with his wagon.
He tipped his hat. “Afternoon, Mrs. Brownley.” He smiled, reddened.
Abruptly Hannah knew what to do; she could take care of her little boy in only one way she could think of at the moment: by marrying the big farmer.
Leaving the fort, Colt took his patrol and headed out to the Schultz ranch. He could only hope they were not too late as they galloped west. However, after they had ridden hard and fast for a good part of the afternoon, and their horses were lathered and blowing, he heard shots and shrieks in the distance. Were the Rangers and the family still holding out, or were those victory shouts and even now, the warriors were dancing around tortured bodies?
He signaled his sergeant to halt the patrol, and he and his Tonk scout rode ahead. It would soon be dark, and in the distance, he saw a burning ranch house and silhouetted against the firelight, mounted warriors rode circles around the flaming buildings. Shots rang out and he saw one warrior drop from a paint horse.
He leaned over to the scout. “I make out about twenty warriors. What do you think?”
The scout nodded. “Lieutenant, even with our men, we’ll be outnumbered.”
“We can’t help that.” Colt shrugged and wheeled his blowing horse. The two rode back to the patrol. “Sergeant, we make out about twenty warriors. There’s whites inside the corral still firing, but we don’t know how many are wounded or dead.”
“Yes, sir.” Sergeant Clancy snapped a salute.
Colt mused a long moment. “If we ride in at a full gallop, with guns blazing, they may think we’ve got a hundred soldiers and take off.”
“Yes, sir. You think we can take ’em by surprise?”
Colt sighed and wiped his sweating face. “We’ll have to try. We’ll ride through their circle and into the corral. Pass the word.”
“Yes, sir.” The sergeant saluted and wheeled his sweating horse to ride back along the line of Cavalry.
Colt leaned on his saddle horn, thinking about the attack. They were outnumbered and depending on surprise. His enlistment was up at midnight tonight, and he might not live to make that decision he’d been so concerned with. He chuckled aloud.
The Tonk scout looked startled. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothin’,” Colt said and nodded to his sergeant as the man returned. “We ready?”
The man saluted. “Yes, sir.”
“Then let’s go give ’em hell and save those Rangers!” Colt said and nudged his horse into a canter. He was saving his horse’s strength. When he got almost within sight of the enemy, he would spur the thoroughbred on and they would come in at a full gallop, guns firing. Automatically he reached for his Colt pistol.
He could see the warriors shrieking and galloping around the corral now, the barn aflame and the house already a blazing pile of glowing embers. The acrid smell of smoke made him choke as he leaned over his mount’s neck and galloped forward.
“Now!” he shouted to his men.
Behind him, he heard galloping horses and pistols roared as they rode toward the Comanches. The warriors seemed to hesitate in mid-stride, confused about what was happening. Colt had counted on that pause. As the Comanche milled about, trying to judge the strength and firepower of this new enemy, the Cavalry rode hard directly toward them.
Colt kept shooting, taking a warrior off his horse as the Cavalry broke through the Comanche line of fire and made for the corral. He glanced back over his shoulder and saw his men hugging their horses’ necks as they fired, and here and there, a mounted brave fell and the horse took off running.
“The corral!” he shouted back over his shoulder. “The corral!”
The Indians seemed frozen in surprise for maybe a full minute, and the Cavalry charged through their line and made for the corral. If only his horse still had strength enough to clear the wooden fence, Colt thought as he tensed for the jump. He felt the big, blood bay thoroughbred leave the ground, and for only a second, it seemed they hung in midair. As they cleared the corral fence, he got a quick glimpse of tense, white faces of men and one woman crouched behind hay bales and water troughs. Then his horse hit the ground inside the corral and Colt reined in and cleared his saddle, grabbing for his rifle as he landed behind a water trough. He looked up to see his patrol jumping the corral fence, dismounting and taking refuge behind any big object they could find.
The Ranger captain next to him grinned with a smudged and weary face. “Lieutenant, we sure are glad to see you!”
“Likewise.” Colt watched the braves recovering from their surprise and now shouting angrily and circling the barn and corral again.
Colt aimed and took a warrior from his saddle. The Indian hit the ground and rolled over and over. Then he turned his head and said to the Ranger. “Don’t be so happy. All I’ve got is the men you see here.”
“No more out there?”
Colt shook his head and grinned. “I thought Rangers always bragged they didn’t need any help?”
“In this case, maybe a little,” the Ranger admitted as he aimed his rifle at the charging Indians.
A white woman crawled across the dirt to Colt. Her brown hair was loose and blew around her dirty and bloodied face. “My boy? What about my boy?”
“Stay down, ma’am.” Colt jerked her behind the water trough. “He’s fine.
I left him with Doc at the fort.”
She sighed and then began to cry. “Then at least he’s safe if we don’t make it. My older son is lyin’ over there.”
“I’m sure sorry, ma’am.” Colt looked at the lanky youth, probably not sixteen years old, lying crumpled and bloody by the fence.
“Give me a gun,” the woman said fiercely. “I’m a pretty good shot.”
Colt handed her his extra pistol. “Ma’am, if we get overrun, remember—”
“I know.” And now her face was strong and determined. “Save the last bullet just in case.”
“We don’t aim to lose,” said the Ranger captain, and they all commenced firing again.
He heard one of his soldiers shout in pain and looked over to see a private holding his arm.
“How bad is it?” Colt shouted at him.
The sergeant was already tearing away the boy’s sleeve. “Sir, I can tie it up and he’ll be all right.”
It was dark now and it seemed to Colt they had been here a million years, but he knew that couldn’t have been. He was bone tired and hot on this summer night. He reached up into the horse trough and got a handful of water, wiped it all over his sweating, dirty face. The loud gunfire seemed to almost deafen him as soldiers and Rangers fired at charging warriors. The bloodied pioneer woman was over by her son’s body, firing with grim determination.
Colt wondered if this was a suicide mission. Was he going to be remembered as the officer responsible for leading a whole patrol to its death? His mind went to Hannah, and he smiled, wishing he were in the refuge of her tender embrace. He made a decision then about what he was going to do if he got out of this alive.
Now they were being showered with flaming arrows, men dipping grain sacks into the horse troughs to beat the fires out. The water wouldn’t last much longer, Colt knew, and what’s worse, he was sure the warriors knew that also.
If only he could take down a Comanche leader, the Indians would think it was bad medicine and retreat. He studied the line of braves galloping around the corral. Yes, that big one with the painted face was the war party leader. If he could only take him out.
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