Fort Revenge

by J. R. Roberts

  Clint finished his coffee, dumped the remnants into the fire, then went and rolled himself up in his bedroll, which still smelled of the Delaware girl Lily.

  THIRTY-NINE

  It was late when the Cherokee appeared in front of them. Gabe could feel the tension in his brothers.

  “Nobody touch your gun,” he said. “If you do, we’re all dead.”

  There were about a dozen braves spread out in front of them.

  “So what do we do, Gabe?” Joe asked.

  “Just sit tight,” Gabe said. “Let Running Deer talk to them.”

  “Let me down,” she said to Gabe.

  He lowered her to the ground and she approached the braves on foot. One of them dropped to the ground to talk with her. The conversation went on for about a minute, and several times the brave looked over at the Colters.

  Finally Running Deer walked back and looked up at Gabe. “They will take us into camp,” she said.

  Gabe reached down for her. She shook her head.

  “They are bringing up a pony for me,” she said.

  As she said that, Gabe saw a brave approach them, leading a pony. The man looked at him with hatred in his eyes. Running Deer mounted the pony and rode toward the braves.

  “What’s going on?” Brett asked.

  “We have to follow them into camp.”

  “And then what?” Joe asked.

  “And then we’ll see,” Gabe said. “We’ll see.”

  Heck rolled out in the morning and found Clint handing him a cup of coffee.

  “Thanks.”

  “I saddled the horses,” Clint said. “All we have to do is break camp. You want to eat?”

  “Coffee’s good enough.”

  Clint hunkered down across the fire from Heck and drank his coffee. They each had another cup before Clint emptied the rest of the pot onto the fire.

  “The next time we see Indians they’re likely to be real,” Heck said as they cleaned the cups and the pot and stowed them away.

  “Then we better be sure we don’t go for our guns without good cause,” Clint said.

  “If they find us before we find them, we’d better let them take us into their camp. That’s probably where we’ll find the Colters.”

  “We’re a day behind the Colter boys,” Clint said. “We can make that up today by pushing the horses. If they’re already in the Wolf Clan camp, we’ll probably reach them even sooner.”

  They mounted up and Heck lifted his chin, almost as if he was sniffing the air.

  “It’s quiet,” he said. “Not even any birds in the sky.”

  “Could be a big cat in the area,” Clint said, “scaring them off.”

  “Or a bunch of Cherokee.”

  They both looked around but didn’t see any indication that they were being watched.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Clint said. “We’re in their backyard. If they don’t want to be seen, we won’t see them until it’s too late.”

  “If they decide to shoot first, we’re probably dead,” Heck said.

  “Shine that badge up good then,” Clint said. “Spit shine it, even. Let’s make sure they see the sun reflecting off it.”

  “Oh, they’ll see it,” Heck said. “I just hope they don’t decide to shoot at it.”

  Clint looked over at his friend and smiled.

  “The minute five rounds hit your chest around the badge,” he said, “I’ll take that as a warning.”

  FORTY

  The Colters followed the Cherokee braves into the Wolf Clan camp. Indians came out of their teepees to watch the group ride in. When they reached the center of the camp, the brothers noticed they were completely surrounded by armed Cherokee braves.

  “This don’t look good, Gabe,” Joe said nervously.

  “Just relax,” Gabe said. “Running Deer will take care of it.”

  It was everything Gene could do to keep his hand off his gun. He wished he’d taken care of Gabe a long time ago, before his older brother got them into this mess.

  Running Deer stepped down from her pony as an older man—possibly the chief—came out of a teepee. She approached him and the man embraced her.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Gene leaned over and asked Gabe.

  “I don’t know,” Gabe said. “That looks like the chief.”

  “Why’s he huggin’ her?” Brett asked.

  “He must know her,” Gabe said.

  The brothers watched as Running Deer and the chief talked, then they turned and she led the old man to them.

  “Father, this is my husband, Gabe Colter,” she said. “And his brothers.”

  Gabe stared at her.

  “You’re the chief’s daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “You never mentioned that.”

  She remained silent.

  “I am William Standing Deer,” the old man said, “chief of the Wolf Clan.”

  Gabe looked around, as did his brothers. He figured there must be fifty braves in the camp, along with women and children. The chief—his father-in-law—spoke as if he’d had some of the white man’s education.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Chief,” Gabe said. “These are my brothers, Joe, Brett, and Gene Colter.”

  “And you are my daughter’s husband.”

  “That’s right.”

  Standing Deer looked at his daughter, then at each of the brothers in turn. Suddenly, he pointed at Gene.

  “Why did you not marry that one?” he asked. “He is closer to your age.”

  “I did not have the choice,” she told him.

  “I’m the leader of this family, and this gang, Chief,” Gabe said, “just like you’re the chief of your people. Wouldn’t you prefer your daughter marry a chief?”

  “A chief,” Standing Deer said, staring at Gabe.

  “That’s right.”

  It got very quiet in camp. Gene almost went for his gun, which would have gotten them all killed at that moment.

  “You must all dismount,” Standing Deer said. “You are our guests.”

  Gene breathed an audible sigh of relief. Gabe felt the tension go out of his brothers.

  “Dismount,” he said. “And keep your hands away from your guns.”

  As the four of them dismounted, Standing Deer said, “You will give up your guns.”

  They all froze.

  “Our guns?” Gabe asked.

  “You are guests,” Standing Deer said. “There is no need for weapons.”

  Gabe hesitated. If there had been fewer braves in camp, he might have snaked his gun from his holster and taken over. But there were at least fifty braves there. He was going to have to rely on his way with words to take over, convince his new father-in-law to back his future plays.

  “Okay, boys,” he said, “give up your guns.”

  Joe grabbed Gabe’s arm and asked, “Are you sure?”

  Gabe yanked his arm away and said, “Just do it!”

  Gabe unstrapped his gun belt and handed it over. One by one, his brothers complied.

  Once they were all unarmed, the chief stepped back and said crisply, “Take them!”

  Each brother was grabbed by two braves, their arms pinned behind them.

  “Hey!” Gabe objected. “What gives?”

  “My daughter tells me you killed the braves who were accompanying you,” Standing Deer said. “And that you forced her to marry you.”

  “I didn’t force her,” Gabe said.

  “And that you have raped her repeatedly since then.”

  “What? Raped? I never—she enjoyed it!”

  He looked at his young bride. The look on her face was not one of enjoyment.

  “And you may not marry a chief’s daughter without the chief’s blessing.”

  “So . . . what’s that mean?” Gene asked.

  Chief Standing Deer looked at him.

  “There is no marriage,” he said. “You are not family.”

  Gabe looked at his “wife,” and said, “Running Deer?”

>   She turned her back and walked away from him.

  “Shit,” Gene said.

  FORTY-ONE

  It was late that day they came to the point where the tracks mixed with many others.

  “Look,” Clint said. “Unshod ponies.”

  “They encountered the Cherokee here,” Heck said.

  “And went off with them in that direction,” Clint said, pointing.

  “How many?” Heck asked.

  Clint stepped down, walked the area.

  “Ten, maybe a dozen.”

  “Think they went willingly?”

  Clint mounted up again.

  “They had the girl to ease the way,” he said. “Do we know how she and Gabe met? And ended up getting married?”

  “No,” Heck said.

  “Well, if she brought her husband here to meet the family, then I guess they went to camp willingly.”

  “They won’t be hard to follow now,” Heck said.

  “No,” Clint said. “The question is, will they be waiting? After all, they left those other four to wait for us.”

  “For me,” Heck said. “They left them to wait for me.”

  “What’s the difference?” Clint asked. “The two of us are here.”

  “If I go first—”

  “I can’t let you ride into the Cherokee camp alone,” Clint said.

  “The badge should keep me safe,” Heck reasoned.

  “Heck, I’m here to watch your back,” Clint said. “Besides, I’m not exactly unknown in the Territories.”

  “I know you have a big rep, Clint,” Heck said, “but that might not mean anything to the Cherokee.”

  “Then again, it might,” Clint said. “Your badge and my rep might keep us alive.”

  “Okay,” Heck said. “We’ll ride ahead alone and deal with whatever happens.”

  They got their horses into motion, this time in no particular hurry.

  “We haven’t really talked much about this gang and what they’ve done,” Clint said.

  “The Colters? Banks, stages, they’ve robbed people on the road—a little bit of everything.”

  “What’s the thing that’s got the Judge so determined to hang them?”

  “They robbed a bank in a town called Arkoma,” Heck said. “Killed a guard, a teller, and two customers—including one woman.”

  “And before that? They hadn’t killed anyone?”

  “Before that,” Heck said, “they hadn’t killed a woman.”

  They rode for a while; when they didn’t see any Cherokee, they became puzzled.

  “We’ve got to be getting close to their camp,” Clint said. “There must be some lookouts.”

  “Unless there’s something going on in camp that’s keeping them all occupied.”

  “Like what?”

  Heck shrugged.

  “Maybe they’re having a big wedding dinner,” he said. “A celebration.”

  “Yeah . . . I think we should go on foot from here,” Clint said. “We don’t want to ride into anything.”

  “You think we’re that close?”

  “Well,” Clint said, “I’ve been smelling smoke.”

  Heck stood in his stirrups, sniffed the air, and said, “I think you’re right.”

  “So there’s a campfire somewhere.”

  “All right,” Heck said. “So we go on foot.”

  They could tell by the multitude of tracks on the ground that they were near a large camp. They took to high ground, finally worked their way on their bellies to the edge of a rock formation from where they were able to look down at the camp.

  “Wolf Clan,” Heck said.

  There were a lot of teepees, many campfires, braves, women, children milling about.

  “There are more of them than has been reported,” Heck said. “Reports we got on raids said about fifteen to twenty braves.”

  “Looks like fifty, maybe sixty, down there,” Clint said. Then he pointed. “And there’s your celebration.”

  They saw a circle of Cherokee, and in the center of it, standing near a fire, were four white men with their hands tied behind them.

  “Doesn’t look like much of a celebration for the Colters,” Clint said.

  “This should be interesting,” Heck said.

  FORTY-TWO

  Gabe Colter was confused.

  “I don’t know what’s goin’ on,” he said.

  “You don’t know?” Gene asked. “Ain’t you supposed to be our leader? Ain’t you supposed to know what’s goin’ on? They’re gonna kill us.”

  “What went wrong, Gabe?” Joe asked.

  “I’ll tell you what went wrong,” Gene said. “He just had to have the girl, that’s what’s wrong. He killed the two braves who were with her, and they was probably escortin’ her back here to see her father—the chief. How do you not find out she’s a chief’s daughter?”

  “She never said,” Gabe replied.

  “And you never asked?”

  “Why would you ask a girl if her father’s the chief?” Gabe asked.

  “Why wouldn’t you ask her somethin’?” Gene asked. “Instead of just mistreatin’ her.”

  “Whaddaya mean, mistreatin’?” Gabe asked. “I was givin’ her what all women want.”

  Gene just shook his head. They were going to die because Gabe didn’t know how to treat a woman.

  “Gabe, what are we gonna—” Brett started.

  “Shut up,” Gene said. “Here comes the chief.”

  “It looks like they’re done,” Clint said. “What do you want to do?”

  Heck turned over on his back and looked at Clint.

  “Sure would be easy to just ride away and leave ’em, huh?”

  “Except for one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The judge wants them,” Clint said. “And if I know the judge, when you tell him the Cherokee got them he’s going to want the Cherokee.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So,” Clint said, “we’ve got to get them out of there.”

  Heck turned onto his belly again and looked down at the proceedings. The chief was approaching the four trussed-up white men.

  “If they don’t just kill ’em right now,” Heck said.

  They watched.

  The chief approached the four men.

  “Chief, you got this wrong,” Gabe said. “I married your daughter—”

  “Silence,” Chief Standing Deer said. “You defiled my daughter and killed two of my braves. For that you must all die.”

  “Why all of us?” Gene asked. “I didn’t kill any of your braves. I never touched your daughter.”

  “Me, neither,” Joe said.

  Brett’s mouth was too dry to speak.

  “You came here,” Standing Deer said, “thinking you would be welcome as family because he married Running Deer. If you were willing to accept our hospitality, you must be willing to accept our punishment.”

  The chief was speaking so that all of his people could hear. For that reason Clint and Heck could also hear.

  “We will retire for the night,” the chief said. “In the morning I will decide your fate.”

  “You mean . . . you might not kill us?” Brett asked, finally finding enough saliva.

  “No,” the chief said. “You will die. I must only decide how.”

  He waved his hand and all four white men were wrestled to the ground. Stakes were driven into the ground and all four of them were tied spread-eagled to the stakes for the night.

  “We could sneak down there when they’re all asleep and get them out,” Clint said.

  “They’re right in the middle of the camp,” Heck said. “And they’re gonna have somebody on watch.”

  “We take care of the lookouts,” Clint said. “Then one of us can cut them free while the other one gives cover from up here.”

  “Jesus,” Heck said. “That means I’d have to go into camp.”

  “Why you?”

  “Because I’d want you coverin’
me from up here.”

  “Or we could both go in, get them loose even faster,” Clint suggested.

  “Well,” Heck said, “we’ve got all night to make up our minds.”

  “Does the judge want all of them,” Clint asked, “or just Gabe?”

  “All,” Heck said. “Besides, if we tried to cut Gabe free and leave the others, they’d raise a ruckus.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “So let’s make up our minds,” Heck said. “Let’s think it through.”

  FORTY-THREE

  They watched and waited until the camp grew completely silent. They knew some braves would have to be on lookout, and they’d have to find them.

  “We’ll both have to take the lookouts,” Clint said, “and then one of us can come back up here while the other one sneaks into camp.”

  “You should be up here,” Heck said, again.

  “But I’m lighter on my feet.”

  “Still,” Heck said, “you’re the best shot.”

  “You sure you don’t want me to come with you. That way we can cover each other.”

  “But one of us can move through camp quieter than two,” Heck said.

  “All right,” Clint said, “but when you get one loose you’ll have to give him a knife so he can help you cut the others free.”

  “And if he tries to turn the knife on me, you’ve got him.”

  “And that’ll wake up the camp,” Clint said. “None of the Colters can be that stupid.”

  “I guess we’ll find out.”

  Clint and Heck moved away from the position to look for the braves who would be on lookout. They found two, one at each end of the camp. They decided to split up and each take one.

  It’s not easy to sneak up behind a Cherokee. Clint decided that no matter what he did, the man was going to hear him. He decided that fast would be the way.

  He had to decide how many feet he’d need to get up to speed. In the end, he moved to within twenty feet of the brave, who was armed with a rifle. He decided a small distraction would be necessary. He picked up a good-sized rock and threw it to the left of the brave.