Fort Revenge

by J. R. Roberts

  “I guess so,” Clint said, “but you never said it was going to be easy to begin with, did you?”

  “No,” Heck said, “I guess I didn’t.”

  “That’s okay, Heck,” Clint said. “Things are never easy around you.”

  He slapped his friend on the back to take any sting out of the words.

  Gabe enjoyed having Running Deer riding double, in front of him. The warmth of her body pressing back against him excited him. He was anxious to get to her people and be welcomed.

  As for Gene, watching his brother press up against her on the horse made him sick. It was obvious to him she didn’t like it. He wished he had the nerve to shoot his brother from the saddle right then and there.

  Running Deer leaned as far forward as she could, but Gabe always put his arm around her and pulled her back against him.

  She wished she had never married him, but then, he hadn’t given her much of a choice. He had killed the braves who were with her, and taken her right to a preacher. After the man had married them, he’d killed him, too. She was afraid of what he and his brothers would do when they finally reached her people.

  A few hundred yards from the campsite, Clint and Heck came upon some tracks.

  “Theirs?” Heck wondered aloud.

  “Got to be,” Clint said. “Who else would it be? And they look fairly fresh.”

  “Due east,” Heck said. “Right direction, anyway. Still at least a couple of days ahead of us, according to Andy.”

  They began to follow the tracks.

  Sometime later Heck said, “I wonder what Gabe has in mind for the Wolf Clan.”

  “You don’t suppose he wants to recruit them, do you?” Clint asked. “Into his gang?”

  “Marry into the clan, and then get them to ride with him?” Heck said.

  “If there are enough of them,” Clint said, “that would make a formidable gang. Do we have any idea how many there are?”

  “Who knows?” Heck asked “Four of forty.”

  “Jesus,” Clint said, “forty . . . we’d need to call in the army.”

  “Well,” Heck said, “first let’s see if we can catch them.”

  They each gigged their horses into a run.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  The Colters camped for the night. They built two fires, one for Gabe and Running Deer, and one for the three brothers.

  “He’s too good to sit and eat with us,” Gene complained.

  “Guess he wants to keep us away from his wife,” Joe said.

  Brett nodded while chewing his beans.

  “That don’t bother you?” Gene asked.

  Joe and Brett exchanged a look, then looked at their younger brother.

  “What’s your problem, brother?” Joe asked. “Why does everything Gabe do bother you?”

  “I think maybe he’s jealous,” Brett said. “You seen the way he’s been lookin’ at Running Deer?”

  “You think you’d be a better husband to her than Gabe?” Joe asked.

  “Why not?” Gene asked. “He don’t treat her right. And she’s closer to my age.”

  “He is jealous,” Brett said, looking at Joe. “I was just kiddin’, but it’s true.”

  “You’re gonna get yerself killed, boy,” Joe said.

  “Maybe not,” Gene said. “Maybe I’ll show all of you.” He got up and stormed off into the darkness.

  Joe and Brett finished eating, then started talking about their new sister-in-law.

  “If anythin’,” Joe said, “she’s slowin’ us down.”

  “Yeah, but what’s the point of us getting to the Cherokee camp faster if we don’t have her with us?” Brett asked. “She’s the only thing gonna keep us from gettin’ killed.”

  “Whaddaya think about this idea?” Joe asked.

  “What idea?”

  Joe gave his brother an exasperated look. He sometimes wondered if Brett was really as dumb as he seemed to be.

  “The idea of joinin’ up with her people, the Cherokee.”

  “Well,” Brett said, “I didn’t think it was such a good idea for him to marry her. I still ain’t convinced her people are gonna be so happy to see us.”

  “Then why are we goin’ if we agree on that?” Joe asked.

  “Because Gabe says we’re goin’, that’s why,” Brett said. “Like you tol’ me the other day, I ain’t been thinkin’ about it so much.”

  “But you are now?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So am I.”

  Brett looked off into the darkness. “Whaddaya think of Gene’s idea?”

  “Takin’ over from Gabe?” Joe asked. “I don’t think he can do it.”

  “Yeah, but can the three of us do it?”

  Well,” Joe said, rubbing his jaw, “what’s to take over? There ain’t no gang anymore but us. What if we just tell him we ain’t goin’ to the Wolf Clan camp? Let him and the girl go alone.”

  Now Brett rubbed his jaw.

  “He wouldn’t take too kindly to that, Joe,” Brett said.

  “No, he wouldn’t,” Joe said, “but what if he decided to go with us, instead of to the Cherokee?”

  “You tryin’ to say we should make him pick between us and the girl?”

  “You know Gabe and women,” Joe said. “He’s gonna get tired of her eventually.”

  “I don’t know,” Brett said. “She is a pretty little thing, and she’s only gonna get prettier as she gets older.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Joe said.

  “I don’t know,” Brett said. “I don’t know what we should do.”

  “Well, we got a few days yet, before we reach her people,” Joe said. “We got time to make up our minds.”

  “Yeah,” Brett said, “we can think about it.”

  Of course, thinking was never a strong suit for the Colter boys.

  Off in the dark, Gene was fuming. Nothing was going the way he wanted it to. But the closer they got to reaching the Cherokee, the more determined he became. Maybe he should just bushwhack his older brother. What would Joe and Brett do if he back-shot Gabe: join him, or turn on him?

  And what would Running Deer do if Gabe was dead?

  THIRTY-SIX

  “We got company,” Clint said.

  They’d been riding for two days since leaving the outlaw camp near the Black Hawk Lake. Judging by the tracks they were following, they were getting closer. More and more they believed that Gabe Colter had to be riding double with the Cherokee woman, which was slowing them down.

  “I see them.”

  Both men knew they were being watched and, for the past mile, paced by a couple of Indians on ponies.

  “Cherokee?” Clint asked.

  “I can’t tell,” Heck said. “I’d have to take a longer, closer look.”

  “Who else could it be?”

  “Creek, Muscogee, maybe,” Heck said. “Might even be Apaches.”

  “They must be trying to figure out if we’re worth attacking or not,” Clint said. “We haven’t shown that we have anything worth stealing.”

  “They might decide to do it,” Heck said, “just for your horse.”

  “Good point.”

  “If they come after us, you could outrun them,” Heck said.

  Clint looked at the buckskin Heck was riding. The horse would have plenty of stamina, but Clint didn’t know if his friend would be able to outrun Indian ponies.

  “Could they be Delaware?” he asked. “Maybe accompanying us?”

  “Not more than two days out,” Heck said. “Besides, I told you, they’re not warriors.”

  “Okay,” Clint said, “so what do we do? We can let them ride with us as long as they don’t make a move. Or we can take them and see what they have on their minds.”

  “You make it sound easy to take a couple of Indians in their own country.”

  “Well,” Clint said, “it wouldn’t be easy, but it’s doable.”

  “They may ride with us for a while and then peel off when they get bored,” Heck said.
/>   “Yeah, maybe,” Clint said, “but there’s still my horse.”

  “That damn horse!” Heck said. “Too much temptation for anyone, especially an Indian.”

  “Okay,” Clint said, “so should we go to them or let them come to us?”

  “That depends on what’s ahead,” Heck said.

  “Yeah,” Clint said, “if we come to a good blind spot that we can use . . .”

  “Exactly.”

  “Then again,” Clint said, “if they’re Cherokee, maybe we’re closer to the Wolf Clan camp than we thought.”

  “Which would make these two Wolf Clan,” Heck said. “That would mean we’re dealin’ with warriors.”

  They rode in silence for a few moments, and then Clint said, “No, can’t be.”

  “What?”

  “We’re not that close to the camp,” Clint said. “I don’t think these are Cherokee.”

  “Okay,” Heck said. “Let’s just take it easy for a few more miles and see what happens.”

  “Okay,” Clint said.

  “Hey,” Heck said moments later.

  “What?”

  “You couldn’t shoot them off their horses from the hip, could you? I mean, you’re real good with that gun.”

  “Yes, I am,” Clint said, “but they’d have to be closer for that.”

  “We could get closer.”

  “You want me to kill them just because they’re watching us?” Clint asked. “That might get somebody real mad at us. I’d hate to kill them for nothing.”

  “I get it,” Heck said. “Let’s just keep an eye on them.”

  “Gotcha,” Clint said.

  They were paced for several more miles and then the two braves disappeared from sight.

  “They either gave up,” Clint said, “or they’re getting ready to make a move.”

  “We better keep an eye out ahead of us,” Heck said. “For all we know, there’s a lot more than two of them.”

  “Hey, hold up,” Clint said, reining Eclipse in. Heck stopped right alongside him.

  “What?”

  “We could be riding into a trap.”

  “So? We knew that.”

  “Yeah, but being trapped by twenty Indian braves is a lot worse than being trapped by two.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “Let’s just wait here a while.”

  “And?”

  “If they get impatient,” Clint said, “maybe they’ll come looking for us.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “Then we’ll ride on ahead and see what happens.”

  “I never knew a Cherokee or an Apache to get impatient,” Heck said.

  “Well then,” Clint said, “I guess we better hope they’re Creek or Muscogee.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Clint and Heck dismounted, dropped their horses’ reins to the ground. Heck lit a cigar and they waited.

  And waited . . .

  . . . and waited . . .

  “Whaddaya say?” Heck asked.

  Clint looked around, didn’t see anyone on the ridge that ran parallel to them.

  “Let me ride ahead,” Clint said, “and you hang back.”

  “Why?”

  “To watch my back,” Clint said. “That’s why we’re here, right? To watch each other’s back?”

  “Why don’t we just ride together?”

  “Because then somebody could get around behind us. My way, that can’t happen.”

  “Okay,” Heck said. “Go ahead. I’ll be a minute behind you.”

  “A minute?”

  “No more.”

  When Clint saw the two Indians ahead of him, he drew Eclipse to a stop.

  “Hello,” Clint said.

  The two Indians stood their ground, blocking his path, holding rifles. Their ponies were off to one side.

  “You mind if I get by?” he asked.

  “No,” one of them said.

  “Go by,” the other said.

  “Leave the horse,” the first one said.

  Clint looked at the ponies again. They wore no saddles but did have bridles on. Then he looked at the two Indians. They were dressed in buckskins, but were wearing boots.

  “I get it,” he said, loudly. “You’re not really Indians.”

  The two men stared at him.

  “And you have a white man’s patience.”

  “Mister,” one of them said, “step down and walk away.”

  “Leave the horse,” the other one said.

  “That won’t work,” Clint said.

  “Why not?”

  “This horse won’t stay,” Clint said. “If I walk away, he’ll follow me.”

  “That’s okay,” one of them said.

  “We don’t mind,” the other one said.

  “We’ll hold him so you can get away.”

  “Naw, that won’t work, either. That would cost you a few fingers.”

  To this point, they had been holding the rifles with the barrels pointing to the ground. Now they raised them slightly.

  “Hold it!” Clint said. “Those rifles come up another inch, I’m going to have to kill you both.”

  “Both?”

  Clint nodded.

  “We want the horse.”

  “Bad enough to die trying to get it?”

  As their answer, they raised their rifles. Clint drew, shot the one on the left, then the one on the right. That one almost got off a shot, but in the end their rifles ended up in the dirt next to their bodies.

  Heck came riding up alongside Clint, looking down at the bodies.

  “So not Indians,” he said.

  “No,” Clint said. “Just a couple of white men who thought they could scare people by pretending to be Indians.”

  “And rob them.”

  “Yes.”

  “They picked the wrong guys this time.”

  “Yes.”

  Heck dismounted, checked the bodies—first to make sure they were dead, and then for identification.

  “Nothin’ on them,” he said. “Their ponies had bridles, but you realized that, right?”

  “Right,” Clint said, “and they’re wearing boots, not moccasins.”

  Clint dismounted, helped Heck pull the bodies to the side.

  “You wanna take the time to bury them properly?” Heck asked.

  “No,” Clint said. “I think we just better keep on going.”

  “Their bodies won’t last long out here,” Heck said. “Buzzards, hyenas, foxes—”

  “They were going to kill me for my horse,” Clint said. “I’m not really worried about what happens to their bodies. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  They walked to their horses and mounted up.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  “It is up ahead,” Running Deer said.

  “What?” Gabe asked.

  “Ahead,” she said, pointing. “My people are up ahead.”

  “When will we see them?” he asked.

  “Do not worry,” she said, “they have already seen you.”

  All four brothers began to look around.

  “We should keep going,” she said. “When they want you to see them, you will.”

  “Okay,” Gabe said.

  As they continued on, Brett leaned over to Joe and asked, “Have you seen an Indian?”

  “I ain’t seen a one,” Joe said.

  The others followed Gabe nervously. Gene brought up the rear. Gabe’s broad back was a tempting target, but he was afraid the round might go right through and also kill Running Deer.

  “I must do all the talking in the beginning,” Running Deer told Gabe.

  “That’s okay,” Gabe said. “You just get us to the point where they’ll listen to me and I’ll do the rest.”

  “Yes, my husband,” she said.

  Clint knelt over the tracks, then looked back up at Heck.

  “Looks like we’re about a day behind,” he said.

  “Well, we’ve been movin’ fast,” Heck said, “especially sin
ce those two fake Indians.”

  Clint mounted up.

  “We can camp tonight and then maybe catch up to them tomorrow.”

  “Then we’ll need a plan,” Heck said. “We’ll not only have to deal with the four Colters, but with we don’t know how many Cherokee members of the Wolf Clan.”

  Clint looked at the sky.

  “Let’s see how much more ground we can cover before dark,” Clint said, “and then we can talk about it.”

  As they continued on, Heck said, “The Cherokee should honor this badge, Clint, unless they’re the bunch who have been raiding settlements and ranches.”

  “I guess there’s no way for us to know that until we reach them.”

  “This has turned into a lot more than I thought it would, Clint,” Heck said. “I didn’t expect that we’d have to deal with a bunch of Wolf Clan Cherokee. Sorry to get you into this.”

  “We could turn back, Heck,” Clint said. “We know the Colters are headed for the Cherokee. You could come back with a posse, or the army.”

  “To ride into Indian Territory with the army would be a declaration of war,” Heck said. “There are too many different tribes in the Territories to risk that. But if you want to turn back—”

  “I didn’t say that,” Clint said. “I was just making a suggestion. If you’re willing to go forward, so am I.”

  “Then let’s just keep going.”

  “Suits me,” Clint said.

  They rode until they couldn’t see in front of them anymore, and then camped. The men built a fire, made some coffee, and ate cold beef jerky with it.

  “I’ll take the first watch,” Heck said. “Can’t be too careful out here.”

  “So far it hasn’t been too bad, except for those two phonies.”

  “Yeah, well, when you least expect it the Territories can turn on you,” Heck said. “Sometimes wearin’ this badge is helpful, and other times it just makes you a target.”

  “Just goes to show,” Clint said, “that I’ve been right all these years about wearing a badge.”

  “Why don’t you turn in?” Heck said. “I’ll wake you in four hours.”