by Tony Masero
Shane waited, expecting more of the Comanche to come at him. His eyes darted this way and that but there was nothing only the ramping noise of the bustling ponies. Cautiously, Shane stepped out from behind the rock, his pistol held ready before him.
A wounded brave moved sluggishly on the ground and Shane promptly shot him. Shelling out empty cartridges, Shane reloaded as he walked through the settling dust in search of the rest of the troop.
They were dead, he realized, all of them were dead.
He heard sobbing from somewhere ahead and walked on searching for any survivors amongst his companions.
The dust scudded around in lazy patterns the taste of it strong in his mouth.
Then he saw him.
A small boy sitting on the ground, his tear streaked face buried in his hands and his pale hunched body marked with long lines of war paint.
Chapter Fourteen
Kilchii was on foot, slowly moving in ever expanding circles as he read the sign.
They had come upon the campsite and found the body of the young head-shot Indian too late to do anything but assess what had happened.
There was nothing left for them now but marks in the sand.
Britt hunkered down and took out his pipe and pressed tobacco into the bowl from his sack.
They were too far off to hear any sounds of battle back at the buttes and Britt hoped the cavalry boys had fared well but he was disappointed that their own part of the mission had been unsuccessful.
Britt lit the pipe and crouched, meditatively smoking as he waited for the Navajo to finish his examination.
‘What do you make of it?’ he asked Kilchii when the Navajo returned.
‘Four white men, one woman. Long shooter kill Comanche, take girl and small boy.’
‘Four men! You sure of that?’
‘Maybe one is young man, not so heavy foot.’
‘Has to be Cromwell and his crew, maybe the older boy made the tracks. So that snake Cromwell got here first, where are they headed? Back to Fort Rosebud, I guess.’
Kilchii shook his head, ‘No, they go this way,’ and he pointed north.
Britt scratched his chin, ‘The fort ain’t that direction. There’s nothing out there but sand, maybe a small ville or two but not much of any account. Where is that sucker off to?’
‘Wherever he go he take children. And long shooter is with him.’
Britt smiled thinly, ‘You really want that Warren for yourself, don’t you?’
‘I want.’
Britt studied the smooth and impassive features of the Navajo, he knew that beneath that calm exterior beat a heart determined to bring to justice the sniper who had killed his fellow tribesman. It was not a thing that Kilchii might study on and consider in any legalistic way, it was just the way of things out here in the lawless Territory, where an eye for an eye was the solution applied whatever the particular moral inclinations of the relevant parties involved.
‘We go back?’ asked Kilchii, nodding towards the way they had come and the distant buttes.
Britt shook his head, ‘No, we keep after the kids. That’s our mission. But I wonder just what the hell Cromwell is playing at, him striking off into the desert like he is.’
‘It’s like this,’ Cromwell confided to Kant as they rode ahead of the small band that trailed out in a file behind them. ‘What we have here is a valuable property, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Damned right,’ Kant agreed.
‘Now we have a set fee for their return but think on it. We are talking about some of the richest people in the country, parents who desperately love their offspring.’
Kant grinned as he slowly got the message, ‘You’re aiming at a mite more.’
‘I am indeed. These gentlefolk can pay considerably more if we press for it.’
‘I like it, Captain. I like it just fine. How do you propose we handle it?’
‘There is a small place some miles ahead, a township called Placido. A little known place, mostly Mexican residents I believe, certainly no one to bother us. I suggest we hole up there whilst I ride on into Fort Rosebud and renegotiate a better deal for the return of the children.’
Kant licked his lips in anticipation, ‘What do you think we can get for these kids?’
‘Well, let’s see,’ said Cromwell airily. ‘Given our time and trouble, additional costs over and above our original estimate, then there’s Jan’s unfortunate abduction and all her suffering. I don’t see why we cannot be asking for fifty thousand a head, only fair don’t you think?’
Kant chuckled throatily as he did the mental arithmetic, ‘A hundred and fifty thou for these three we got here, that sounds real good to me.’
‘Then perhaps another twenty-five for news of the dead infant and the missing boy.’
‘A hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars, yes indeed! A four way split gives out at nigh on forty-three thousand and change for each of us. That is a mighty fine arrangement. Will they pay up, do you think?’
‘They will if they want to see their brats alive again.’
‘Oho! Captain, I do love the way you think.’
‘You’ll have to keep an eye on them, Raymond. Let nothing happen to any of them, they must remain as we found them, you understand?’
‘Sure, sure,’ Kant agreed dismissively. ‘Although pretty Miss High-and-Mighty looks like she’s come down a peg or two and might well have learnt to enjoy a little dinking around in the night hours.’
‘Now, please, Raymond,’ sighed Cromwell. ‘Do not be stupid. We want to take our cash and move away free and clear. The girl starts screaming rape and every marshal and ranger in the Territory will be after us. Keep your trousers buttoned, please.’
‘Okay, okay. I’m just saying she’s probably been bedded by every one of them Indians, what’s a little white seed by way of noticing.’
‘You touch any of them and I warn you,’ said Cromwell with icy stillness. ‘I shall come for you with full force, are we clear on this? I will not have them harmed in any way.’
‘All right,’ sighed Kant in exasperation. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die, I won’t even look at her wrong.’
‘You need to gratify your needs then there are bound to be Mexican women in this village that will oblige you. Failing that I should try your luck with Jan, I hear she was not adverse in the past.’
Kant cast a wary glance over his shoulder at Jan Marques riding behind and out of earshot, ‘Man, you must be joking. That one would cut your parts off whilst you slept, no sir, I reckon not.’
‘Then contain yourself, when we get the money you will be able to buy every whiskey soaked soiled dove from here to Santa Fe.’
‘Can’t wait,’ smiled Kant, his face full of greedy satisfaction at the imagined prospects.
The village of Placido was indeed not much to take note of.
It stood on a long low running mound with one road in and out. There were huts and adobe houses alongside the road, most of them battered and run-down, with fences in poor states of repair and some of the building decayed and empty. A couple of scruffy trees marked the yards out back and one corral where a few sway backed ponies and a dirty looking mule stood motionless in the heat.
A poor place where the only individuals in evidence either lounged listlessly on the porches or wandered about aimlessly on slow motion missions of obscure intent.
It was one of these individuals that Cromwell stopped to question. The raggedly dressed peon was standing at the side of the road staring at them with bovine intensity. Under one arm he carried a folded meal sack and his other hand held a short loop of string.
‘You have a hotel here?’ Cromwell asked.
The man looked up at him dumbly and shook his head slowly from side to side.
‘A cantina then?’ asked Cromwell.
The peasant slowly lifted his arm and pointed down the road, as he did so the sack fell from under his armpit and dropped onto the ground but he seemed not to notice the loss.
‘They have lodging there?’ Cromwell asked.
The man nodded his head up and down.
‘Thank you,’ said Cromwell, geeing his pony on.
‘Moron,’ said Kant, spitting at the peon’s feet.
The cantina proved to be a narrow place a few feet below ground level and entered by a drop of stone steps. It was grubby with a bare earth floor, the walls were stained with grime and a small solitary bar stood at one end with a few rickety tables and chairs scattered along the length. A couple of scruffy looking peons occupied one of the tables and looked up with distant eyes that veiled whatever they were thinking.
It was chilly in the place after the heat outside and the few occupants looked up in singular disinterest as the party entered, bringing their noise and numbers into the stillness. The florid and bald headed owner attended the bar and watched them come in from behind liquid and dark rimmed eyes marked with heavy bags that drooped underneath giving him a frog-like appearance.
He nodded a silent and lugubrious greeting as Cromwell approached the bar.
‘You have rooms here?’ asked Cromwell.
The bartender shrugged, ‘There’s a place out back. Fifty cents a night, it ain’t much but will do long as you don’t expect a regular hotel.’
Cromwell nodded at Warren and Jan, ‘Take them out there,’ he said, indicating the youngsters. ‘Stay and keep an eye on them.’
‘Will we be moving on soon, Captain?’ asked Nathan.
‘We’ll be staying here a little while,’ Cromwell allowed. ‘I have to go ahead and prepare your people before we make it up to the fort. There will be some sad news about the two missing that should be approached with tact.’
Elizabeth hesitated, ‘I hope, sir….’ she began. ‘You will be circumspect in what you say.’
‘Of course, Miss Bayerling,’ Cromwell promised. ‘Have no fear; I shall be the very picture of diplomacy. Just be patient, it will not be too long a wait.’
‘Could we not find somewhere better?’ Elizabeth asked, looking around with obvious distain.
‘After where you’ve been, sweetie,’ interposed Kant. ‘This is as good as it gets.’
Elizabeth studied him as if he was something unpleasant that had just crawled in from under the door.
‘Now run along and make yourselves comfortable,’ said Cromwell. ‘I will arrange things with the landlord here.’
As they trooped out, Kant turned to the owner and propped his elbow on the bar, ‘Give me a slug of your best, I got me a thirst.’
‘We have pulque and some tequila, you want that?’
‘Sure, whatever, I ain’t as particular as the duchess there.’
Cromwell scattered some gold coin on the counter, ‘This should cover it,’ he said, fixing the bartender with a steely eye that would obviously brook no argument.
The barman searched a rear tooth with his tongue and his eyes glittered at the gold, ‘Sure, that’s good. You can leave your ponies in the corral, I’ll have a boy take care of them.’
‘Bet you ain’t seen money that color for a long while,’ leered Kant, with a knowing look.
‘This is a poor place,’ the bartender allowed as he scooped some milky liquid into a ceramic mug.
‘What’s your name, fella?’ asked Kant.
‘I’m Domingo Smith.’
Kant pouted, ‘So, a touch of white and Mex both, huh?’
Domino shrugged indifferently as he set the mug down in front of the scalp hunter, ‘We don’t know how we got here and who cares anyway.’
‘True enough,’ snorted Kant, lifting the mug by the rim between forefinger and thumb and sipping.
‘How long you gents plan on staying?’
‘Long as it takes,’ said Cromwell.
‘Okay, so what is it with these white youngsters?’
‘They was taken by the Comanche,’ Kant said with a touch of false pride. ‘We’re just saving them.’
‘Ach!’ spat Domingo. ‘Those devils, to save the children is a good thing. They came here one time and burnt everything, took our women and killed many.’
Kant was concerned, ‘Took all your women?’
‘Mostly,’ Domingo allowed with a knowing look.
‘Ah!’ sighed Kant in understanding, giving him a slow smile and licking his lower lip. ‘Maybe not all, huh?’
Domingo shrugged.
Cromwell turned his back on the bartender and said to Kant, ‘I’ll leave now, be back as soon as I can. Remember keep a close eye on the kids and make sure no harm comes to them.’
‘You got it,’ Kant promised.
Cromwell chewed his lip in a troubled fashion a moment before striding out from the cantina.
‘He’s worries a lot, huh? Your boss,’ said Domingo.
‘Worrying is what he does,’ allowed Kant, sipping again from the mug. ‘I got other talents.’
‘So, you like some company tonight? Something to keep you warm in the cold.’
Kant nodded slowly, ‘Long as it ain’t a mule or a dog, has hind legs and an accommodating nature, I’ll take it.’
With a snorted laugh, Domingo lifted the curtain behind him and called out, ‘Rosita!’
The shed out back had plank walls with gaps between the shrunken wood. There were tiers of bunk beds, plain flat bases without any bedding. Sunlight broke through the gaps in the planks and casts hot streams of mote filled shafts onto the bare earth floor.
‘What a rat hole,’ sighed Jan.
‘It’s disgusting,’ agreed Elizabeth, staring at a large spider crawling over a gigantic web in one corner. It was becoming obvious to Nathan that now free of the Comanche influence, Elizabeth was returning to her haughtier and prim self as if its presence would wipe out all memory of her experiences at the hands of the Indians.
‘Maybe it won’t be for long,’ he said, lifting up Butler and sitting him on one of the lower bunks.
Warren had seated himself on a bunk near the door and was concentrating on cleaning his rifle, he said little and kept his attention focused on his task, treating the weapon with undue love and affection.
‘I wonder,’ said Elizabeth, taking a more communicative and womanly tack with Jan. ‘Do you think there is anywhere we might clean up and maybe get some proper clothes?’
Jan nodded slowly as she gave it some thought, she had more practically, cut a knife hole for her head in the blanket and with a twist of rope cinching it around her waist she wore the blanket as a poncho.
‘I’ll see what they have here, there must be some women about.’
‘Thank you.’
When she had gone Elizabeth turned to Nathan and spoke to him quietly so that Warren would not overhear.
‘Do you think everything is all right?’ she asked.
‘How do you mean?’
‘I don’t know,’ she frowned. ‘These people don’t seem the best.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Nathan agreed. ‘But then I suppose our parents needed some rough characters to undertake the task.’
‘They are more like bandits than rescuers.’
‘I wish I knew what happened to the army, I’m convinced they were coming for us.’
‘Well,’ said Elizabeth with a toss of her head. ‘They did not find us and now we are in the hands of these creatures.’
‘At least you are safe now, Elizabeth.’
‘Am I? I sincerely wonder on that count.’
‘Don’t worry; it would do them no good to harm us. Everything will be all right, I’m sure.’
‘It’s that wretch Raymond Kant, that concerns me. He is an ugly brute and so ill mannered.’
‘Not the best, I agree but just wait it out. Let’s see what happens.’
‘And that woman, Jan Marques. I’m really not sure about her. Did you and she….’
‘What?’ Nathan asked innocently.
‘You know? Did you and she…. become, well, become intimate whilst you were away.’
Nathan bent down to place an ar
m around Butler who had curled up and fallen asleep on the bed, ‘Whatever can you mean?’ he said, hiding his blushes as he wrapped himself around the boy.
‘You know, Nathan,’ Elizabeth insisted. ‘I mean to say, she is a grown woman, much older and obviously of loose morals.’
‘Elizabeth,’ said Nathan in exasperation. ‘Will you forget it. There are things we all want to forget now, so please leave it alone.’
‘You did, didn’t you?’ snapped Elizabeth. ‘You fornicated with her. Oh, my God! I don’t believe it.’
Nathan stood up and confronted her, ‘So? What if I did? It is no concern of yours, Elizabeth. Remember, you were pretty close to that Kowa character for a long while.’
Elizabeth dropped her chin to her chest, ‘Much to my shame,’ she said. ‘You must promise me, Nathan. You will say nothing to my parents, my mother would die if she knew.’
‘I have no intention of saying anything,’ he promised.
‘And you and me,’ she added shyly. ‘How will you think of me now?’
Nathan thought for a moment, ‘As I always have, with respect for a young lady of breeding. What else is there?’
‘You don’t think…. I am soiled now?’
Nathan looked into the beams of light coming through the parted planks and sighed, ‘We have all been soiled, Elizabeth. It’ll take some getting used to, that’s all. But soon you will be in Europe and I will be in military college, it will pass.’
‘And what about him?’ she asked, looking down at Butler.
Nathan smiled, ‘He will remember playing with the Indian boys, I’m sure everything else passed him by.’
‘Even Samantha?’ Elizabeth said, pulling a face at memory of the poor little girl battered to death by Kowa.
‘He was asleep then, he saw nothing.’
Dreamily, she followed his gaze into the mote filled beams, ‘I barely remember it happening, it’s all like a fantasy now.’
‘You come near death,’ said Warren suddenly, looking up from his Sharps and obviously having overheard them. ‘Suffered a hell of a lot but if it don’t kill you it can sure make you strong. That’s what some preacher man once told me.’
