Kilrone (1966)

by L'amour, Louis

  Suddenly Stella Rybolt said, “I wish he did know. I j ust wish something would make him suspicious. No w you’ve got me worried.”

  “I didn’t want to do that, Mrs. Rybolt. I wanted to ge t some idea of what to expect. If there’s a chance, and i f everything is going all right here, I might try to ge t down the trail to warn him.”

  “You mustn’t try. You’d be killed.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Kilrone went to the back window to relieve Teale fo r a spot of rest. As he watched out the window, he wa s trying to picture the route that Rybolt would follow t o reach the post. He would be careful, but would not reall y be expecting trouble. Any white man he met woul d probably be considered a bearer of news, and Rybol t would certainly want information from him.

  Sproul would choose a spot where the payroll guar d would be out in the open, but where there would b e concealment for the attacking party, and concealmen t for himself as well. For after due thought, Kilrone di d not believe Sproul would approach the party himself.

  There was even the chance that the bearer of new s would know nothing of the plot, and might himself b e marked for death.

  Nothing stirred out back. When Teale returned, Kilron e moved on and relieved another of the men, and s o through the long, slow day he worked his way aroun d the building, checking all the windows, relieving each o f the men in turn.

  In the hospital, the hole had been partly blocked u p by overturning a table across it and piling furniture an d cases behind it, but the wounded Indian was still ther e against the wall just outside the hole, and there was n o way to get at him. As long as he remained there h e meant danger to them.

  Far down the parade ground an Indian showed nea r the sutler’s store. There was a crash of glass, and then a smashing of wood. Hopkins swore. “There goes my business,” h e said gloomily, “and I never cheated an India n in my life!”

  The Indian showed again, and Hopldns took a lon g time sighting before he squeezed off his shot. The brav e jumped as if stung, then disappeared around the corne r of the building. “Good shot,” Ryan said.

  In mid-afternoon a ricocheting bullet scratched Draper , drawing blood but doing no real damage.

  Within the buildings they waited for the night, waite d in fear and apprehension. More Indians have arrived …

  Kilrone figured there were at least four hundred now.

  Just before sundown the sutler’s store burst into flames , lighting the clouded sky with weird effect.

  Kilrone detailed men to get rest, tried to catch a ca t nap himself. Tonight would tell the story. He tried to b e matter-of-fact about it, but when he thought of th e women and children he could not be. And his min d would not let him forget Rybolt, riding surely and steadil y into an ambush. He thought of what could be done i f he could somehow get Rybolt and those six men here , seven tough, competent, experienced soldiers. It migh t make all the difference. And with Rybolt to take cornmand , he himself could ride for Mellett or Paddock, o r both.

  If the defenders survived the night … if he himsel f survived it…

  Captain Charles Mellett led his troop across the junctio n of the Owyhee and Battle Creek, and north to cam p near the head of Deep Creek. The Owyhee Range lay t o the west and north of him, the forest-clad slopes towerin g fifteen hundred feet higher than his camp.

  From where he was now encamped, the quickest wa y he knew of to the rendezvous on the North Fork was u p Castle Creek and it followed a route roughly parallel t o Squaw Creek. There was an old trail, often used by th e Bannocks and Utes, that led over the mountain, abou t two miles east of Squaw.

  “Doctor,” he said, indicating the rough sketch he wa s drawing on the ground, “our destination lies there. Th e quickest route lies right over there”—he pointed towar d tiie northwest—“but I’m not g o ing to take it”

  “What’s the problem?”

  “It’s too easy. If there are Indians around, they’d b e apt to know we’re coming along. We know they’re keepin g up with us … we lost a man the other night. So I a m sure they are somewhere over in the mountain s waiting for us. Well make a feint in that direction, an d then cut around to the east and back.”

  “Sir?”

  Mellett turned to see Keith standing at attention.

  “What is it, Keith?”

  “This, sir.” Keith held out a hunting knife in a scabbard.

  ‘I just took it off an Indian.”

  “You’ve captured one?”

  “Well, not exactly. He wasn’t about to be took, an d when I saw him wearin’ this, I didn’t try too hard t o take him.”

  “What about the knife, Keith?”

  “That was Lister’s knife, sir. Lister of I Troop.”

  Mellett turned the knife in his hands. Now that Keit h mentioned it, he remembered the knife. Lister had ofte n spoken of it, saying it was all he had salvaged from tha t government claim back in Kansas. If this was Lister’s knife, then Lister must be dead; and if Lister was dead , what about I Troop?

  “Sir, that there knife wasn’t all. That Injun was wearin’

  Sergeant Bill Jordan’s coat. I didn’t fetch it along.

  It—it was somewhat bloody, sir.”

  “You’re sure it was bis?”

  “Yes, sir. I watched him sew those chevrons on it wit h my own eyes. I’d know that work anywheres.”

  Charles Mellett got to his feet, his face gray wit h shock. If Jordan and Lister were dead, it was probabl e that Colonel Webb’s I Troop had been hard hit, possibl y massacred. It was unlikely that the Indians would hav e been able to strip Jordan’s coat from his body unles s they had caught him out alone and killed him, or unles s the command had been wiped out… and Webb woul d not be likely to send Jordan scouting. Lister, yes, but no t Jordan; he was too valuable to the command. He had t o realize that the troop might have been wiped out.

  “Charlie,” Hanlon said, “do we dare move up ther e tonight? Some of those men may need me.”

  Keith was still waiting. Mellett turned to him. “Keith , go send Sergeant Dunivant to me. Meanwhile you ge t some rest. We’ll be moving out before morning.”

  When Dunivant came up through the darkness, Mellet t said to him, “Sergeant, let the men get some sleep.

  No fires. It is now eight o’clock. We will break camp an d move out at two in the morning.” He paused a momen t “I suppose you have talked to Keith?”

  “Yes, sir. I saw the Indian, sir.”

  “You think that was Jordan’s coat?”

  “I know it was, sir.”

  “Then we can assume that Colonel Webb’s comman d has run into bad trouble. We can also assume there wil l be Indians waiting for us somewhere up ahead. I woul d suggest you pass the word along, Sergeant.”

  “How far to North Fork?” Hanlon asked.

  “It’s twenty miles or so by the most direct route,”

  Mellett answered. “About eight miles farther the wa y we will go.”

  “Hell, isn’t it? Men may be dying as we sit here.”

  Mellett nodded. “I know, but I’d risk my whole cornman d going through that pass. If they’re alive they’re i n action, you can bet on that, and they’ll need every ma n I’ve got. The difference in time is about three or fou r hours, and less if we are lucky. I can’t risk my own me n for that difference. It isn’t only the lives of my men, tha t I’m thinking of; it’s a matter of military intelligence.”

  “You think the pass is a trap?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine, Cart. All I know is tha t it could be, and if I were in Medicine Dog’s place that’s where I would wait.”

  “And by the other route?”

  “We can still run into a fight, and probably will; bu t there’s less chance of surprise, and a better field of fire.”

  Both men were silent then. They could smell th e smoke of the dying fire, smothered with earth. And i n the softness of the night they could smell the scent o f the sagebrush and the pines. The clouds were
breakin g away, and here and there a star shone.

  “You think they’ve had it, don’t you, Charlie?” Hanlo n asked.

  Mellett considered the question. “I am afraid so, Cart.

  Jordan was Webb’s strong right hand, and Whitman’s too. He wouldn’t be far from them, in any case. Besides,” h e added, “Jordan’s coat and Lister’s knife were foun d on one Indian. That implies there was loot enough fo r all… at least, it does to me.”

  At two in the morning the troop moved out. At thirt y minutes past four they watered and took a break on Pol e Creek. Ahead of them were three miles or so of woode d terrain, with towering cliffs on the east—one of th e worst stretches they would encounter.

  “I don’t think we’re fooling anybody now,” Mellet t commented to Hanlon. ‘It’s my guess the Bannock s waited for a while, and when we didn’t show they sen t out a scouting party. We may run into Indians u p ahead, but we’re not going to waste time. We will g o right on through.”

  Day was breaking when they came down out of th e wooded stretch. The cliffs on the east held back the sun , but the crests were golden and red with the dawn’s firs t light. The troop moved down the canyon at a goo d pace, the trail smooth before them, and every troope r rode with his rifle in his hand.

  Keith rode out ahead, scouting the terrain. Suddenl y he wheeled his horse and came back. “Captain, sir, a dead horse up ahead—a cavalry horse.”

  The column advanced slowly. The western side of th e mountain was bright near the top; the sky above wa s blue, with a white cloud floating. They saw the dea d horse lying there with blood on the saddle. It was Captai n Whitman’s horse.

  Hanlon looked down at the saddle and the blood o n the horse’s flank. “Mellett, the man who rode that hors e is no longer alive. No man could lose so much blood an d live.”

  Keith had pushed on. He rode erect in the saddle, hi s rifle held ready, his eyes swinging from side to side , scanning everything, missing nothing. Again he drew u p suddenly. “Captain, sir, I—”

  They were there, the men of I Troop, lying in th e awkward postures of death, struck down where they ha d been attacked, a small cluster of bodies together wher e they had fought in a last futile stand. They had scored , for blood was on the rocks from which the attackers ha d struck.

  It had been neatly done, not in the most dangerou s place, where the soldiers would have ridden with care , but where the open ground began to widen out an d seemed to offer no hiding place, where the soldier s would have begun to relax. If, indeed, they had suspecte d anything.

  “Dunivant, detail pickets and a burial detail,” sai d Mellett.

  “Sir?” said Keith.

  *What is it?”

  *Td like the Captain’s permission to scout around a bit”

  “What is it, Keith?” Mellett repeated. “You know Indians , and there’s something about this that bothers you.

  What is it?”

  “The same thing that’s bothering the Captain, sir.

  They did not take time to mutilate the dead. And the y took no prisoners. They didn’t even finish stripping al l the bodies.”

  “So?”

  “They were in a hell of a hurry to get away, sir.”

  “Go ahead … but be careful.”

  Keith wheeled his horse and rode away, Mellett lookin g after him as he rode off.

  “That’s a good man, Charlie,” said Hanlon. “We coul d use a few more like him.”

  “He’s a good soldier,” Mellett agreed. “God forbid tha t he’d be anything else. I have watched him. He is not a man who would want to inflict pain on anything o r anybody, not pain as such, but he’s simply and purely a hunter, a man “whose world is black and white, for an d against, and no middle ground. War is his job, and h e carries it out to perfection. You don’t find many lik e him, but they’re good to have on your side.”

  “And in peacetime?”

  Mellett shrugged. “He would probably be quietly skillfu l at whatever he did, and law-abiding to the nt h degree … up to a point. Beyond that point, an extremel y dangerous man.”

  “He was getting at something. What was it?”

  The sun had crept down the canyon wall. The buria l detail, in their shirt-sleeves, were beginning to sweat I t would be a hot day, and humid following the rain.

  “He has an instinct, Cart. I could see it bothering hi m all the while. Something about this venture was al l wrong, wrong from the beginning. Webb was worrie d about it, too, which was his major reason for takin g command.”

  “What did Keith mean about them getting away i n such a hurry they didn’t finish looting the bodies?”

  “He believes this was a diversion, Cart, and the reaso n those Indians got the hell out of here so fast was for fea r they’d be too late for something happening elsewhere.”

  “You mean … back at the postf”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Mellett waited, watching the burial party, but his eye s kept searching the mountainside, the valley ahead, everythin g within sight. He was sure in his own mind o f what Keith would find: that the attacking party ha d been a relatively small one, and that the main body o f the Indians were elsewhere. Thank God, Paddock wa s back at the post.

  Yet as he waited a disturbing thought crept into hi s mind. This diversion had been skillfully,planned. Th e Indian was quite a careful and cunning tactician, but h e had never heard of an Indian planting the idea in th e minds of the military that a dealer in rifles for Indian s was to be in the field, in such and such an area.

  For arms had been appearing—very fine rifles, in fact , and of the latest manufacture. The army was eager t o stop that supply of weapons, and when the hint came t o Webb—just how not even Mellett knew—he acted a t once.

  Webb had moved out with a patrol, with Mellett t o follow and effect a junction on North Fork. His wa s actually a supporting force, planned to awe the Indian s from any resistance.

  Whoever had planted that idea had known just wha t Webb would be likely to do, and the area where th e arms dealer was supposed to be was sufficiently far fro m the post.

  “I never heard of an Indian planning like that, Charlie.

  They have brains enough, but they just don’t think tha t way.”

  Mellet nodded. “We will go on through to the rendezvous. If anybody survived, that’s where they ‘l l be.

  I counted only fourteen bodies.”

  “We found another one,” Dunivant said. “We jus t found Ryan. He was up in the rocks there, with two rifle s and a pistol.”

  “Dead?”

  “Yes, sir. He made a fight of it, sir. We counted si x bullet holes, and he died up there after they left, becaus e he was still dressed and they hadn’t taken hi s guns. I guess they knew he was in a bad way an d preferred to leave him to dying trying to kill hi m quicker.”

  “Good man, that.”

  “He was hit hard before he got up there. That’s ho w we found him—by the trail of blood he left on the rocks.

  I counted fiftynine cartridge shells up there … fiftynine!

  He may have killed as many as the whole cornman d did.”

  Dunivant moved away and Mellett glanced over a t Dr. Hanlon. “He’s hoping Ryan killed a good number,” h e said, “but you never know unless you find the bodies.

  My guess is that it was a quick, sudden attack, and tha t the whole fight, except for Ryan up there in the rocks , didn’t last more than a few minutes. The men weren’t deployed as they would have been had there been an y warning. I’d say several men went down with the firs t volley. Ryan made a stand, but wounded as he was h e may not have done as much damage as we would like t o believe.”

  When the burials were completed, Mellett mounte d his men and rode on to Hurry Back Creek, where the y made a halt for a brief nooning. Nobody was talking.

  The experience of burying friends had had a soberin g effect.

  When they reached the place of rendezvous in Pleas-I a nt Valley light was
fading. Mellett led his troop in a quick sweep around the area, but in the vague ligh t they could distinguish no tracks, and found no sign of]

  Indians. They made camp beside the clear, cold stream J a nd bedded down for the night .

  Mellett had his boots off and was waiting for a las t cup of coffee when he heard the sharp challenge of a sentry. He put down his cup and picked up his pistol , moving back from the fire.

  He heard a sharp exclamation, then a babble of talk.

  Sergeant Dunivant came up to the fire. “Sir, Johnson’s here. Johnson of I Troop.”

  Johnson, whose name had been something else back i n the States, was a man of medium height, well set up, a good steady man of some education and refinement.

  How he came to be a soldier no one could guess. Th e men called him The Schoolmaster, and so he might hav e been.

  Now he was tired, bloody, and haggard, but his unifor m coat was buttoned and he still carried his rifle an d canteen.

  “Private Johnson reporting, sir. We didn’t have a chance, Captain Mellett. They emptied half our saddle s with the first volley it seemed like, and the Colonel wa s killed immediately. I made it into the rocks where Rya n was, but he was badly hurt and I wasn’t. By that tim e the shooting was over. There was nothing I could do fo r him, and just before he died he urged me to get away.

  He was pretty soon gone, and I had to leave him there.”

  “How did it happen, Johnson?”

  “They were under clumps of brush scattered along th e trail. We took a hard volley from the edge of the trees , and then at least a dozen Indians seemed to come righ t up out of the ground around us. Jordan had been hit. I s aw one Indian grab his horse by the bridle, and anothe r jumped on the saddle behind him. The horse thre w them both, and I was shooting. I—I don’t think I hi t anything, sir.”

  “You are lucky to be alive, Johnson. Sergeant, fee d this man and let him change off between Evers, Little , and Drew. I think they’re the lightest men in the troop.”

  “Sir?”

  “Yes, Johnson?”

  “Sir, there was firing off to the south this afternoon. I t may have been some distance off—the wind was right , and the air was clear.”