AHMM, December 2007

by Dell Magazine Authors

  "Well, yes, that might tilt the balance in my favor,” the lieutenant conceded, “if I could prove myself, so to speak."

  "Exactly,” Miss Parson said.

  "But there's no way to do that now,” the lieutenant objected. “We'd need a full-blown Indian attack or something like it—let them see I can keep my head under fire."

  "What if you recovered all of the missing carbines?” Miss Parson suggested. “Wouldn't that show how valuable you are?"

  "I don't—” the lieutenant started, then broke off, eyes widening with surprise. “You know where the missing carbines are? I thought that Mormon trader got away with them."

  "Lieutenant, if you could recover those carbines do you think that will help your case?"

  The lieutenant thought about that for a moment. “Well it certainly couldn't hurt, but I don't know if it will help. So much really depends on what the colonel wants to happen."

  Corey saw Miss Parson's eyes flash and he realized that Lieutenant Ridgewood had touched upon the core of her plan. Suddenly, he could see that all of her maneuvering was about Colonel Holworth, but he still didn't grasp what Miss Parson wanted to make happen.

  She made no reference to any of these matters to Lieutenant Ridgewood. Instead she asked, “Shall we try?"

  The lieutenant made his decision. “Why not? Where are these carbines you've discovered?"

  "I think that before I tell you that you'd better don your sidearm."

  The lieutenant agreed and stepped into his quarters.

  "Mr. Callaghan, you had best be ready for trouble. Like most of the officers, Lieutenant Summers lodges away from the central buildings of the fort in the more civilian parts of Bridger. We should be noticed going into his house. He should come running to keep us from disclosing what we find."

  "How sure of this are you?"

  "The carbines were there this afternoon while you were giving your testimony, piled between the wall and the bed and covered with a simple blanket. It looks like he's constructing large boxes to ship them in."

  "You've already been inside?"

  "And it's quite likely I was seen either entering or leaving. If the lieutenant has any brains he's making plans to move the carbines tonight. But it won't be as easy to get the weapons out as it was to get them in."

  "I don't understand."

  "Look, these are new-issue carbines. Every cavalryman in the fort got a brand-new weapon, with the rest waiting here until Colonel Holworth can distribute them to his detached units. It was easy for Lieutenant Summers and an accomplice or two to walk out of the quartermaster's office with one of those extra carbines at the end of the day. They carried the new carbines with them to the lieutenant's house but left without them. The next day they did the same thing all over again, arriving in the morning without a weapon but leaving with one. They could have done it in under a month. We're only talking about sixty guns."

  "But why?"

  "To sell them, of course. Lieutenants don't make very much money. Those weapons represent a retirement bonus—a nest egg to let Mister Summers set himself up in business when he leaves the service."

  Corey considered that for a moment. “That makes sense. Do you think he was in it alone?"

  "Well, the lieutenant would have to have at least some help from within the quartermaster's office."

  "Higgins,” Corey guessed.

  "Quite probably,” Miss Parson agreed. “He and Lieutenant Summers seem unusually close, and he did beat that trader quite fiercely to extract a false confession. It's also likely that Sergeant Kelly would have to know what was happening."

  The door to Lieutenant Ridgewood's quarters opened and the officer emerged, Colt pistol in its customary place, secure under the flap of the lieutenant's holster. “Well then,” he said, addressing Miss Parson. “Where exactly are these wayward carbines?” “Right this way,” Miss Parson answered.

  * * * *

  Lieutenant Ridgewood eyed the small house suspiciously, but Miss Parson walked right up to the front door, rapped once, and entered without giving the owner a legitimate opportunity to answer her knock.

  Corey followed immediately, unwilling to leave Miss Parson alone in what could be dangerous circumstances. Lieutenant Ridgewood followed more slowly. Save for the three of them, the two-room building was deserted.

  Miss Parson walked directly through the sparsely furnished first room and into the rear of the house. Sparsely furnished was an exaggeration—the front room was completely devoid of furniture save for the three upended half-barrel chairs with a full barrel placed between them for a table.

  "He only rented this building three months ago,” Miss Parson informed them, her voice carrying from the back room. “That in and of itself is suspicious since he's leaving the service at the end of the month."

  Corey stepped through the doorway and joined her in the back room. Saws, hammers, and nails were strewn about, as were the remains of two long, coffin-shaped boxes.

  "When you add to that, that he was responsible for the missing carbines and raced off to discover three of them on that Mormon trader, well it seemed obvious that someone should look into this place."

  "We're talking about Lieutenant Summers, I take it?” Lieutenant Ridgewood asked as he followed them into the back room.

  "Yes."

  "I don't see how he thought he could get away with it."

  "Why would anyone have been suspicious? It should have been months before those crates were opened. You said yourself that you wouldn't have opened them to count the weapons when you took over the fort's stores. By the time they were opened, Lieutenant Summers would have been long gone and you would have been blamed for the loss."

  "But an overzealous private spoiled the whole plan,” a new voice announced.

  Corey and Lieutenant Ridgewood's heads snapped around to find Lieutenant Summers standing in the doorway covering them with his army Colt.

  Miss Parson did not flinch. “I've been expecting you, Lieutenant Summers. To tell the truth, I thought you would be here before us."

  "I was,” he acknowledged affably. “I just thought it better to let you get inside where I could bring matters to a quieter resolution."

  "Well that fits nicely in accord with my plans,” Miss Parson said. “I assume Private Higgins—"

  "You can't fire that pistol, Summers!” Lieutenant Ridgewood announced, rudely interrupting Miss Parson. “If you fire that gun, everyone in Fort Bridger will hear you and come running. I'm placing you under arrest. The best thing you can do is to submit quietly and try to get a reduced prison sentence."

  Miss Parson sighed, clearly unhappy with Lieutenant Ridgewood's interference.

  Lieutenant Summers appeared amused by the interruption. “Right you are, Ridgewood,” he said, taking a quick glance at his pocket watch. “But in less than five minutes, Sergeant Kelly will start drilling some of the men in firing their carbines and that should cover the sound of my pistol quite nicely. Then I won't have to worry about a shorter prison sentence."

  "Lieutenant Ridgewood,” Miss Parson said, her voice quiet but firm. “I would appreciate—"

  Lieutenant Ridgewood interrupted her again. “Why did you do it, Summers? You're an officer and a gentleman. Why would you throw all of that away?"

  "An officer and a gentleman?” Summers asked. “And what has that gotten me? I'm thirty-seven years old and I'm still just a lieutenant. And I'm going to keep on being a mere lieutenant until enough captains get promoted or die off to make room for me in their ranks. I was a colonel during the war, but I've got too bow and scrape to everyone just like some new peacock out of West Point. And you ask why I did it?

  "We make a pathetic thirteen hundred per year paid in script no Western shopkeeper will accept at face value, but every year some idiot in the House of Representatives gets up and argues that they should lower our pay because ‘learning to tighten one's belt’ is good for a young man.

  "Well, I'm not young anymore! And I'm tired of waitin
g for my seniority to finally get me promoted. Those rifles are worth more than a year's pay to me—and that's enough to set me up fine when I get out of the Army."

  "Except you're going to jail,” Ridgewood reminded him.

  "I'm not going to jail,” Summers said. “Another couple of minutes and you'll be dead!"

  "Lieutenant Ridgewood,” Miss Parson repeated, attempting to insert herself back into the conversation. “I would appreciate it if you would remember that we did not come here to send Lieutenant Summers to prison, but to gain a favorable verdict in your hearing. If we had simply wanted to recover the stolen carbines, we could have brought Colonel Holworth with us."

  She focused all of her considerable charm on the man holding the pistol. “Lieutenant Summers, please believe me when I say that your plan to shoot us will not go unnoticed. Father Murphy knows where we are and is coming even as we speak with many of Fort Bridger's leading citizens. It is quite probable that were I to scream they are already close enough to hear me."

  Lieutenant Summers directed his pistol away from Lieutenant Ridgewood and pointed it directly at Miss Parson. “I think I'll just have to take that chance."

  Corey saw an opportunity in this moment of distraction, but he could not risk lunging past Ridgewood to get to Summers or trying to step between Summers and Miss Parson—not with a cocked pistol already pointed at her. Instead, Corey took an action that went against the grain but which offered the greatest chance of Miss Parson surviving and Lieutenant Summers paying for his crime.

  He reached out with the lightning speed of a short jab, grabbed Ridgewood by the pistol belt, and pulled the startled officer behind him.

  Summers snapped his pistol around to cover Corey, but the boxer was not advancing on him and the lieutenant did not fire.

  "What are you doing, Callaghan?” Lieutenant Ridgewood sputtered.

  "Yes, what are you doing?” Lieutenant Summers asked.

  Corey looked Lieutenant Summers straight in the eye. “Now it doesn't matter if Sergeant Kelly starts rifle practice. You can't shoot Ridgewood first with me standing between the two of you. That means if you fire that gun, Ridgewood will have time to draw his pistol. If you shoot me or Miss Parson, Lieutenant Ridgewood will kill you!"

  Lieutenant Summers blanched.

  He took a step back and Corey stepped forward with him, trying to make certain that Lieutenant Summers could not make enough distance to somehow angle a free shot at Ridgewood. Summers stepped back again and Corey followed into the front room.

  A massive hand grabbed Corey's right arm and spun the boxer across the room and into the wall.

  "Oh thank God!” Miss Parson said.

  Private Higgins got a grip on the back of Corey's head and attempted to slam the boxer's forehead against the wall. Corey got his hands up and blunted the private's efforts.

  "Take it outside, Mr. Callaghan,” Miss Parson called out. “And try to make it look like he's getting the better of you until I give the word."

  Since Higgins was getting the better of him, Corey found it easy to make it look that way. Getting the bigger man outside could prove more difficult. He hunched his body down hard toward the floor to break Higgins's hold on his neck—simultaneously frustrating an unsportsmanlike knee to his kidney—then twisted and drove two hard lefts to Higgins's stomach, rocking the man backward.

  Corey surged to his feet, leading with his left, keeping Higgins slightly off balance. Corey's real power was all in his right, but his left was also strong. And after the damage he had inflicted on his own ribs swinging at Patrick last night, Corey was leery of opening up with his right again.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Corey could see Lieutenant Summers still pointing his pistol through the door to the back room. He hoped that Lieutenant Ridgewood was pointing his pistol right back at him.

  Gunshots sounded from somewhere out in the fort, and Corey lowered his left shoulder and charged into Higgins. The big man staggered backward, and they both burst through the front door into the dirt road beyond it.

  A small crowd of people was walking toward them, led by Father Murphy. In no time at all they were breaking off their conversation to gather around Corey and Higgins and shouting both questions and words of encouragement.

  "Why are they already fighting?” one man wanted to know as the two boxers rolled to their feet and lunged at each other.

  Remembering Miss Parson's request and beginning to appreciate the complexity of her plan, Corey let Higgins beat off his attack and back him around the circle taking shape as the crowd closed in around them.

  "Does anyone have an objection,” Father Murphy shouted, “to having this fight count as tomorrow's match?"

  A flurry of voices answered him, but Corey couldn't distinguish any words as Higgins took the opportunity to jab his fist repeatedly into Corey's face. Higgins had decent form and a lot of power in his frame. In Corey's mind, the outcome of this battle was by no means a certain thing.

  "All right then,” Father Murphy shouted. “All bets are in force. Has anyone seen Miss Parson?"

  "I'm right here,” Miss Parson said, suddenly appearing in the broken door of the house. “I'm right here and my money still says Rock Quarry Callaghan can beat Private Higgins."

  One look at the punishment Higgins was inflicting on Corey had half a dozen men crowding around Miss Parson to make further bets.

  Corey wiped at his face to clear his vision. Higgins fist had cut him over his left eye, and the blood leaking from the gash was becoming a problem for him. What was worse, Higgins had figured out that Corey still didn't want to use his right arm, and that was making him even bolder. The private waded in with a left-right combination Corey couldn't adequately see. Higgins ended his advance by driving Corey sprawling into the crowd near Miss Parson.

  As helpful hands hefted Corey up to throw him back at Higgins, Corey heard Miss Parson's voice quietly reassuring him. “The bets are placed and the colonel has arrived. You can take him now, Mr. Callaghan."

  Corey was already struggling to keep his balance as the crowd excitedly propelled him back into the circle. It looked to him as if he was about to disappoint Miss Parson.

  * * * *

  Higgins's grin was broad and malicious. The man was probably too stupid to realize that this fight meant nothing to the outcome of the standoff in Lieutenant Summers's house. With this sort of crowd gathered, there would be no way to hide the blame when the carbines were uncovered for the colonel.

  Or maybe there was, Corey suddenly realized. If Higgins won the fight, the crowd might well lift him up on its shoulders and march off with him to celebrate. Justice for Summers and possibly Lieutenant Ridgewood's life might well depend on Corey defeating Higgins here.

  Not that any of that really mattered. Corey had no intention of letting Higgins beat him. The ring was Corey's glory and he wasn't laying down for anyone. Not that he had any idea how he was going to beat the bigger man.

  "Break his nose, Corey!” A familiar voice shouted from the crowd. “Give him something to worry about for a change!"

  Corey responded to Patrick's advice without conscious thought. He jabbed three times with his left at Higgins's face. The other boxer bobbed and weaved, but his confidence in Corey's injuries caused him to discount the threat of Corey's right hand. Knowing how badly it was going to hurt, Corey swung anyway, winding up and landing his right-hand knuckles squarely on the bridge of Higgins's nose.

  Higgins staggered backward in surprise and pain. Blood spurted down over his chin and onto his chest. The burn in Corey's side ripped around the bottom of his rib cage and up into his chest, but he didn't permit himself to hesitate. Clamping his right arm hard against his side, he immediately closed the gap between himself and Higgins, driving two more left-hand punches hard into the bigger man's face.

  Higgins lunged out toward him, acting more like a wrestler than a boxer.

  Corey danced to the side and hit him again as he passed.

  Blood fro
m his shattered nose flowed into Higgins's mouth as the private gasped for breath. He whirled back into the fight, trying to take Corey down with one mammoth swing.

  Corey stepped past the blow and drove his left straight from the shoulder into Higgins's cheek. The private snapped back at him faster than Corey expected, driving three punishing body blows into Corey's chest.

  Rock Quarry Callaghan staggered back in pain, certain that the big man had him. But Higgins wasted the opportunity clawing at his face, trying to clear a path through which the air could reach his lungs again.

  This was the pivotal moment. Higgins really wasn't that badly hurt, not nearly as badly hurt as Corey's ribs seemed to be. But Private Higgins wasn't as experienced as Rock Quarry Callaghan. He was off balance and maybe a little scared, and that made him vulnerable where he shouldn't have been.

  "Press him, Corey, press him!” Patrick shouted. “Don't let him breathe! Don't let him rest!"

  Corey took the old man's advice, driving the big man before him with his left, hoping that Higgins wouldn't trip and fall and thus give himself the few moments he needed to recover himself.

  Left, left, left, despite Corey's best efforts, Higgins was on the cusp of recovering his stride. Corey simply could not let that happen. Injured as he was, he couldn't afford to let Higgins get back into the fight.

  Half blinded by the cut above his eye, Corey stepped in even closer and pounded Higgins with body blows from both his left and right fists. The ribs burned, but not like they had with a full roundhouse swing.

  Higgins stumbled backward until his back pressed against the wall of Lieutenant Summers's house. His eyes were wide and his mouth gasped for air Corey wouldn't let his lungs contain. His flesh grew very red even without the sheen of blood across his face, and the private's eyes began to turn up in his head.

  Corey took a step back from Higgins, but he wasn't finished with the private yet. He'd never knocked a man out with his left before, and he wanted to enjoy it. As the bigger man staggered a step away from the building, Corey cocked his left fist back as far as it would go. He steadied Higgins's swaying body with a light touch of his right hand, then let loose with all of the power he could muster and knocked the private out cold.