Sudden Apache Fighter

by Frederick H. Christian

  “Oh, that would be grand,” exclaimed Barbara enthusiastically. “I feel so – dirty.”

  “Wal, ’paches ain’t the world’s cleanest critters,” agreed the old man, pouring some water into a big iron cauldron, which he swung on a metal rod across the fire. “You can use one o’ the rooms on the west side,” he told the girl. “They’s still purty well intact, although yu might have to share ’em with a spider or three.” The lined face creased in a mischievous grin, and a faint smile appeared in response upon the girl’s tired face. “Why yo’re right purty when yu smile,” Eady remarked. He swung the iron rod away from the fire, lifting the cauldron clear. “One o’ yu boys want to heft thisyere water over into a side room for the missie?”

  Rusty stepped forward and without a word lifted the cauldron, staggering across the room with it to a doorway on the far side. Kicking open the door of the room, he went in; the girl followed docilely, and as she did, Shiloh Platt turned to Quincy.

  “Quince,” he said. “Yu watch things. I’m aimin’ to make shore the gal don’t get no fool ideas about escapin’…I’ll keep an eye on her.”

  The emphasis upon these last words left no doubt as to his intentions, and Quincy grinned evilly.

  “Shore, Shiloh,” he agreed. “She’s a purty—”

  “Shiloh!”

  The half-breed wheeled, surprise written large upon his face; for the challenge had come from an unexpected quarter. Half-expecting interference from Sudden, Shiloh found himself unprepared when the cutting voice of the kid, Rusty, stopped him in his tracks. He turned slowly, his hands well in sight and still. Rusty was standing with feet planted apart, directly between Shiloh and the doorway of the room into which Barbara Davis had gone.

  “What is this?” Shiloh growled.

  “Yu know what it is, Shiloh!” snapped Rusty. “Yu ain’t goin’ anywhere near her.”

  “Is that so?” gritted Shiloh. “An’ who’s going to stop me?”

  “I am!” Rusty said, flatly. “If yu aim to put a hand on that doorknob, yo’re goin’ to have to step across me to do it, an’ yu can tie to that!”

  Shiloh caught Quincy’s eye, and the scar faced ex-soldier began to ease slowly along the bar, intending to move into a position where he and Shiloh could whipsaw the boy. He had moved no more than a few inches when Sudden remarked in almost a conversational tone, “If yu take another step, Quincy, yo’re liable to fall an’ hurt yoreself.” Quincy stopped moving, darting a glance of hatred at the lounging figure across the room. But there was no mistaking the threat in Sudden’s words and Quincy was not fool enough to ignore them. Old Eady watched the tableau with wide eyes, while Tucson, who had gone out in back to fetch some food from the saddlebags, stood stock still in the half-open doorway.

  Shiloh had not missed Sudden’s quiet remark, and knew that if he started the ball, he would not be able to rely on Quincy; at the first hostile move, Sudden would cut him down. The kid was fast enough with his gun, that Shiloh knew; but even if he took him, there would still be that coldly-smiling Texan to face. No, a lascivious look at the girl was not worth this kind of trouble; Shiloh knew that the odds were wrongly stacked, and he shrugged. “Hell, Rusty, no call to get all hotted up. Whose side yu on, anyway?”

  “I didn’t know we’d chosen sides,” the boy remarked, “but if we have, I’m on the girl’s an’ that’s whatever.”

  “Good for you, sonny,” crowed Eady. “That’s tellin’ ’im.”

  Deep rage burned inside Shiloh at this, he felt, unwarranted intrusion by one of his own band, but he let none of this show. He did not intend to face a showdown on anything except his own terms.

  “Yu an’ me is goin’ to have a quiet talk one o’ these days,” he scowled.

  Rusty shrugged and turned away. “Fine,” he said offhandedly. “I’ll see if I can think o’ some interestin’ things to say.”

  Shiloh grunted, still seething inside at this cavalier treatment. He turned his attention upon Tucson, who still stood in the open doorway.

  “Yu goin’ to stand there all night, yu dumb ox?” he screeched. He whirled on Eady. “An’ yu – ain’t you got nothin’ to do except gawp? How long d’yu aim to be with that grub?”

  “About as long as she takes,” snapped Eady. “I won’t be done no quicker on account o’ yu jabberin’.”

  Shiloh stamped across the room, snatching the saddlebag out of Tucson’s unresisting hands. He rummaged in it, and not finding what he wanted, snapped “Go an’ look in the other saddlebag – there’s some whisky in it.”

  Tucson frowned at Shiloh’s tone. “I ain’t no servant, Shiloh,” he grumbled.

  “Oh, get the bottle, yu stupid ox!” Shiloh cursed. “I ain’t got all night.”

  Eady looked at Sudden meaningfully. “Yore friend’s got a mean tongue,” he remarked quietly.

  “He shore has – although he ain’t no friend o’ mine,” the Texan told him. Eady nodded absently, and went on with frying the slices of bacon he had cut from the hunk that Tucson had brought in. Sudden watched Shiloh and Quincy slouched at the broken-down bar; they were whispering quietly. Sudden recalled Eady’s remark about Shiloh’s outbursts. “Mebbe his tongue’s goin’ to trip him up afore long,” he thought as he watched Eady putting the food on to the tin plates. “Mebbe it’ll be to my advantage.”

  Supper was eaten in a desultory silence. Barbara had joined them, and her skin glowed pinkly from the scrubbing she had given it. Her hair was bright golden in the lamplight, cleansed of the dirt which had formerly matted it, and her pale blue eyes, firm full lips, and short, straight nose made the men at the table aware that the girl was beautiful. More than once Sudden caught Rusty’s eyes upon the girl, watching her adoringly; he saw the boy flush deeply when Barbara’s cool blue eyes met his directly on one of these occasions. The Texan noted the gleam in the eyes of Shiloh Platt, who feasted his gaze upon the girl’s slim form. Even Tucson was moved to a clumsy gallantry, holding the rickety chair for the girl as she rose from the table after the meal.

  Rusty came over to speak to Sudden. “The girl’s purty tired, Green,” he said. “She needs rest. Lots o’ sleep.”

  “I know it,” Sudden told him. “She’s had a rough ride, but we ain’t out o’ the woods yet.”

  “Yu know – Shiloh ain’t plannin’ on sharin’ that reward with yu!” burst out Rusty.

  Sudden nodded. “He ain’t the sharin’ kind – although I’m shore obliged to yu for mentionin’ it.” His smile, the boy noted, made the Texan’s whole face look younger. He thought he could like a man like this a whole lot. Sudden asked him a question, breaking in on Rusty’s reverie.

  “How come yo’re mixed up with Shiloh Platt, Rusty? Yu don’t look like no scalphunter to me.”

  Rusty’s face went bitter. “Yu got to look like a scalphunter to be one?” He shook his head as if in answer to his own question. “I’m bettin’ yu know better’n most how little difference it makes what a man’s done an’ what he gets labeled with havin’ done.”

  The grim look on the Texan’s face confirmed the accuracy of this remark, moving Rusty quickly to contrition. “Hell, Jim – I never –”

  “O’ course not,” Green smiled. “There’s times I forget it for days at a stretch.” He changed the subject. “Yu want to tell me how yu got mixed up with Shiloh?”

  Rusty shook his head, a dogged stubbornness creeping into his expression. “I got to work her out, Jim.” He shot a miserable glance at the girl. “That’s if it ain’t too late awready.”

  Sudden had intercepted the look at Barbara Davis, and it confirmed his suspicion that the boy was regretting whatever circumstances had driven him into his present company. However, he did not press the younger man. “If yu want to talk about it sometime, yu let me know,” was all he said. “I got a feelin’ yu don’t like Shiloh Platt no more’n I do.”

  “Like him?” hissed Rusty. “I hate his guts!” He stalked away without another word and went over to the far corner of t
he room, where he sat moodily in a chair, with his chin on his hand, looking into nothing.

  Sudden was still pondering the boy’s outburst when they all rolled into their blankets for the short sleep which was all they would allow themselves. The odds were on a dawn attack; every one of them must be awake and ready long before sunup.

  Sudden opened an eye to peer at Quincy, who had taken the first watch. The scar-faced scalphunter was a strange mixture: one moment jaunty, almost likeable; the next, an insane and uncontrollable killer. Shiloh, Tucson, Rusty: they were an unlikely crew. Wondering what strange twists of fate had led them to join forces, Sudden fell into a healthy sleep, his last thought it might be a long time before he had another as peaceful.

  Chapter Eight

  At dawn the Apaches, their copper skins daubed with vivid colors, their faces painted black, slithered over the rim of a gully on the southern side of the relay station and wormed forward, using every scrap of cover, towards the shelter of the stone corral wall.

  Inside the station they waited ready; each man had been allotted a window position, and Barbara Davis sat at a table, boxes of cartridges in front of her, ready to reload the guns that the defenders would thrust into her hands as they emptied them.

  “Keep yore aim low,” Sudden counseled them all, in a whisper. “It don’t matter where we hit ’em, as long as it stops ’em comin’.”

  Rusty nodded grimly at these words. His eyes strayed across the room towards Barbara, who met his gaze with an open, friendly smile. Of all her companions, the girl thought, the one called Rusty was by far the nicest. It seemed impossible that he could be involved in Shiloh Platt’s filthy occupation.

  “Here comes one now,” came Shiloh’s sibilant whisper.

  “Hold yore fire!” rasped Sudden. “We want to take as many as we can on the first volley. They don’t know we’re waitin’ for ’em.”

  “He’s sneakin’ close to the well,” Shiloh said. “I’m afeared he’s goin’ to drop some pizen in it.”

  “War whoops use that water as much as white folks, mister,” Eady said quietly. “They won’t pizen it.” He eased his head close to the window and peered around the edge. “Any minnit now one o’ them’ll stand up long enough to draw a shot,” he warned. “Don’t nobody be tempted: ’paches allus figger better to risk one warrior than the whole war party.”

  “If he gets too close in drop ’im anyway,” Quincy growled.

  The bearded man turned back to his window, then sighed. “Aha,” he said. “Hyar’s a couple more.”

  “Two on this side as well,” hissed Eady from the west wall, his big rifle ported ready.

  Sudden risked a quick glance around the edge of the window and saw three braves worming across the yard on their bellies. This was it. “Let ’em have it!” he yelled, and the guns blasted their murderous crossfire out of the windows. With howls of demented rage at this perfidy, the Apaches leaped to their feet, running like deer for cover; all except one, who hurled himself headlong towards the window on the west wall. He was smashed off his feet by a bullet from Eady’s buffalo rifle, the .50 caliber slug hurling him in a broken heap some yards to the side. The old man touched a finger to his tongue, and tapped the smoking end of his rifle barrel with it. Then he calmly proceeded to slice a notch out of the butt with his knife, ignoring the hail of shots which was now directed at the house by the rest of the war-party behind the corral. Now that their sneak attack had failed, the Apaches devoted their hatred and energy to pouring fusillade after fusillade into the window apertures in the hope that one of the leaden messengers would find a random destination. Spouts of splintered stone spanged from the walls as the bullets slashed into the house; some chunks of wood were torn from the board shutters which blocked the narrow windows.

  “Keep down!” Quincy yelled, although the advice was at best superfluous.

  “Blaze away, dear hearts,” crooned Eady. “Yu’ll need more’n rifle slugs to make a dent in these walls.”

  The defenders crouched low as the barrage slackened. It could hardly last long. In the first place the Apaches did not have the ammunition to sustain it. And the second more chilling reason was that this was not the Apache way of fighting.

  Sudden risked a glance out of the window. At some distance beyond rifle range he could see a group of Apaches on horseback. They were pointing at the house and gesticulating furiously.

  “What they up to, Green?” called Shiloh. “C’n yu see anythin’?”

  “They’re palaverin’ on a bluff over yonder,” the Texan told him.

  “Mebbe askin’ the Everywhere Spirit for advice,” Eady cackled.

  “They shore ain’t havin’ a sewin’ bee, anyways,” grunted Quincy. Even as he watched, the arguing band of Apaches separated and disappeared into the gully beyond the corral wall. In a few moments there was complete silence, and the watchers in the beleaguered station waited tensely for any hint of the next Indian move. None came. The sun rose higher and the heat grew, but all remained still outside.

  “Yu figger mebbe they’ve just rid off an’ given up?” Shiloh asked, his tone betraying his lack of any such belief.

  “Yu could allus slide out an’ take a gander,” Rusty grinned. “If they kill yu, we’ll know they ain’t gone yet.”

  “Very funny,” sneered Shiloh. He turned to Eady. “Yu got plenty o’ water in here, old man?”

  “Enough,” Eady said. “Unless yo’re talkin’ about a long stay. Seven o’ us could git through a powerful lot o’ water if them red divils decided to wait us out.”

  “Hell’s teeth!” swore Quincy “Yu mean if they decide to jest sit out there, we’re a-goin’ to run out o’ water?”

  “Not right away,” the old man said, his eyes glinting with scorn. “Don’t yu get yoreself all frighted, now, Quincy.”

  “Yu watch yore lip,” Quincy threatened darkly.

  “Yu reckon they’ll try an’ sit us out, Jim?” Eady asked Sudden, ignoring the taciturn Quincy.

  “They might,” the Texan conceded. “My guess is they’ll take another crack at us afore they decide on it.”

  “My feelin’s,” agreed the oldster. “Apaches gits a mite impatient sometimes. It can be the death o’ them.” He grinned toothlessly and patted the serrated stock of his rifle.

  The thought of escape was still running through Shiloh Platt’s head like a ferret through a rabbit warren.

  “Mebbe we could wait until dark, an’ make a run for it!” he suggested.

  “Yu want to try, fly at it,” Sudden told him cuttingly. “Yu won’t mind if we hang back an’ watch how yu make out?”

  His sardonic words silenced the half-breed, who gnawed at his lips. Quincy broke the silence.

  “Take no mind o’ Shiloh,” he grinned. “He jest nacherly hates bein’ cooped up. I reckon he knows well enough there ain’t a chance o’ gettin’ through that war-party with his hair in one piece.”

  “Not yet there ain’t,” Eady confirmed. “We got to jest hold on an’ see what happens next.”

  Sudden turned his gaze on the girl, who sat where she had scrambled, in the corner, when the hail of bullets had been smashing into the house. “Yu all right ma’am?” he asked. Barbara Davis’s chin came up.

  “Don’t concern yourself, Mister Green,” she replied, her voice cold. “I am still intact. Your reward money is in no danger.”

  Shiloh cawed with laughter. “That’s tellin’ him, sister,” he cawed. “Damn my eyes if yu ain’t the li’l spitfire for shore!”

  Rusty bristled at Shiloh’s words. “Keep yore tongue civil, Platt!” he rasped.”Or I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” growled Shiloh, his good humor evaporating.

  Before the youngster could reply, Sudden spoke in a mild voice. “Fightin’ among ourselves ain’t goin’ to help,” he remarked.

  Not a man among them was misled by the gentle tone. “Keep yore eyes peeled on that yard. Any o’ them ’paches sneaks up to a window, an’ the man guardin’ it’
ll be a goner shore.”

  Shiloh Platt wheeled back to his window, as if afraid that during the brief in his vigilance an Indian had in truth wormed up to the window, and even now lurked there, grinning, his rifle cocked.

  “Somethin’ happenin’ over on this side,” Tucson announced. “I see dust behind the wall.”

  Sudden motioned Rusty to cover the window he had vacated and moved quickly across to Tucson. He peered gingerly out of the window, marking the spot which the giant indicated. “That ain’t dust,” he said finally. “It’s smoke. They’re buildin’ a fire out there.”

  “Now what in hell—?” Quincy began wonderingly.

  Almost as if in answer to his question, three fire arrows arched upwards from behind the wall, climbing steeply with smoke trailing behind them, then dropping down to thunk viciously into the roof overhead. Sudden looked a question at Eady, who answered it with a grin.

  “They ain’t goin’ to have much luck with that ol’ dodge,” the old man cackled “Fellers what built this place knowed their business: roof’s solid stone with sand piled atop of it to keep the heat out. About as much chance o’ their settin’ it afire as there is o’ Quincy here gettin’ into Paradise.” His shoulders heaved with silent laughter at his grim humor.

  The defenders heard the rain of fire-arrows, for such it now became, thunking into the roof above their heads and, despite Eady’s reassurance, waited tensely for any hint that the flames might have caught; but none came. After a while, it became obvious that the Indians had realized the ineffectiveness of this method of attack. The whistle of arrows ceased, and Eady looked around triumphantly.

  “Told ye there was nothin’ to worry about,” he said. “Boys what built Apache Wells knowed a few Injun tricks their ownselves.”

  Again the silence fell, and the hush invaded the beleaguered station. The sun had climbed to its zenith now, and struck down upon the parched land with merciless ferocity. The sky was as blue as a Chinaman’s robe, without the hint of a cloud in all its brazen expanse. Nothing stirred; no bird sang. It was as if Nature herself had ordered all of her creatures away from this place of death, leaving it empty, desolate and forbidding. Another hour crawled past, and then another, and still the silence reigned. Guns cocked and ready, the defenders waited,