The Dragoons 4

by Patrick E. Andrews

  Each time they reached a mountain meadow, Kenshaw kept within the tree line. Another thing he had to worry about was an accidental meeting with the soldiers. He knew that after their fight with Otto Bolkey, the army commander would not hesitate to launch an attack. If that happened in the open, the whiskey peddler would have no choice but to gallop back into the woods for safety. Everything depended on being able to set up a proper ambush.

  After two hours of hard riding across the uneven, demanding terrain, Kenshaw signaled for a halt. “Bobby Slowfoot!” he yelled out. “Get up here!”

  Bobby Slowfoot rode forward. Like the other members of the gang he was tired and sweat-soaked and had a sore butt. “Yeah, Rollo?”

  “The crossing is down this hill and out o’ the trees,” Kenshaw said. “Take a look and see if’n the soldiers has been through there.”

  “What if they spot me?” Bobby Slowfoot asked. “Them soldiers ain’t never seen you before,” Rollo Kenshaw said. “So if’n they catch sight o’ you, just be really friendly like and wave at ’em. If’n the sons of bitches run after you, just stop and wait. You can tell ’em you’re traveling through the Black Hills looking for a good trapping spot.”

  “Sure,” Bobby Slowfoot said. Without another word he spurred his horse and rode out of sight into the trees.

  “You can rest a spell, boys,” Kenshaw said. He swung out of the saddle and stepped to the ground.

  The rest of the men gratefully dismounted and stood around stretching and rubbing their butts. If anybody was irritated by the hard ride, he kept his displeasure to himself. Rollo Kenshaw never encouraged criticism or complaints.

  The gang gradually settled down and a few men tied their horses to trees in order to catch a quick nap. They had a little over an hour to take it easy before Bobby Slowfoot reappeared. He was grinning widely.

  “There ain’t been nobody through that crossing for days, Rollo!” he happily announced.

  “Hot damn!” Kenshaw exclaimed with a chuckle. He started kicking the dozing men. “Let’s go, damn you! We got to set up an ambush so’s we can kill a few soldiers afore this day is out.”

  In only a few moments the gang was back on horseback, riding like hell toward the crossing on the Platte River.

  Eleven

  Loralie Campbell’s spirits picked up fast during the first twenty-four hours following her release from captivity.

  Captain Darcy Hays, Lieutenant Tim Stephans, and the men of “L” Company went out of their way to be solicitous and kind to her.

  Hearing friendly voices speaking English and addressing her in kindly tones was just what the young woman needed after her short but cruel days as a captive of Buffalo Horn’s Wolf Society.

  The only times of uneasiness she felt were when Eagle Talons came close to her. Even if his actions were obviously unintentional, the Sioux warrior’s proximity caused her some anxious moments. The sight of any Indian would have made her nervous and frightened. But as soon as Loralie accepted the fact he was working with the dragoons, the warrior no longer bothered her. The situation was helped by the fact that Eagle Talons scarcely gave her any notice. He didn’t have much interest in a mere woman while out on the warpath. He was thinking more of the coming opportunity to kill the white whiskey peddler who brought what he considered no less than poison among his people.

  However, any uneasiness Loralie felt about Eagle Talons dissipated more and more because he wasn’t with the column too much. He did a lot of scouting, and that activity kept him out and riding around the formation to keep an eye on things.

  The young woman’s freedom, however, was about to make a captive of Lieutenant Tim Stephans’ heart. After three long years on the frontier without much chance for romantic contacts with the opposite sex, he found Loralie Campbell to be almost completely overwhelming.

  When the softness returned to her face and she managed to smile a few times, her countenance became much more feminine. The lieutenant could see beyond the sunburn and her disheveled appearance, and he correctly perceived her natural beauty. Slightly freckled, with red hair she had swept back and tied down with a piece of bandanna Tim had given her, Loralie was very pretty indeed. Her blue eyes were clear, and the brows above them arched just enough to give her an aristocratic look.

  Old Darcy Hays was the ever polite elderly gentleman around her. She reminded him of the girls of his youth, particularly one named Chandra. He remarked on Loralie’s attractiveness to Tim, saying, “Miss Campbell would add quite a bit of charm and beauty to one of the balls they have back home in North Carolina.”

  Tim, taking a subtle glance in her direction,. replied, “She would add charm and beauty to any event, sir.” At that moment, Hays realized that his young subaltern was becoming smitten with her. In his mind, that could— or could not be—a good thing for either one of them. It was a situation he decided to give close attention.

  The trip down from where Buffalo Horn had delivered Loralie had been a slow, almost pleasant one. The dragoon privates were in a good mood, secure with the knowledge they were headed straight back to Fort Laramie and that a good chance existed they would be replaced by others in “L” Company. They knew it wouldn’t be long before they could enjoy fresh meat and some garden vegetables for a change. It would be nice to sit at the benches and tables in the company mess hall to eat, rather than squatting around an open campfire. Sleeping on straw mattresses would also add to the comforts of returning to the garrison. That mode of rest certainly beat the uneasy slumber they endured on the hard ground of the Black Hills.

  Sergeant O’Murphy, who was all soldier, had entertained no such thoughts of creature comforts. He rode up beside Hays and rendered a salute. “Begging the cap’n’s pardon, but I’d like permission to make a request.”

  “Certainly, Sergeant O’Murphy,” Hays replied.

  “I realize the first sergeant is gonna be making up a new roster for the next patrol to come back out here to get that liquor smuggler,” O’Murphy said. “I’d just like to volunteer to return with you. That’d save ol’ Aldridge the hard job o’ deciding which sergeant to send out on the next mission.”

  Hays was pleased. “Thank you very much, Sergeant O’Murphy. I gladly accept you. You’ve proved a dependable and valuable assistant to me. I’ll certainly let Sergeant Aldridge know to detail you for the second patrol.”

  “Good, sir,” O’Murphy said. He pulled on the reins and rode back to his place in the column.

  Hays kept his group moving until they reached the ridge that would take them down to the passage through the small valley leading to the ford in the Platte River. At that point he called a halt. Eagle Talons had been out awhile, and the captain wanted to make sure the Sioux warrior was with them when they crossed the river and rode toward the fort. Some trigger-happy soldier, seeing the Indian by himself, might take a shot at him. He also thought it a good idea to give Loralie Campbell a final spell of rest before continuing the remainder of the way to the garrison. He wanted to make no more stops, either for food or rest, until they were back within the post limits of Fort Laramie.

  During this final halt, the men stayed discreetly in one area while the young woman withdrew to the privacy of the trees a few yards away. Tim joined Hays and shared some of the cool water from his canteen with the company commander.

  “It’s a relief to know that we’ll be back at Fort Laramie this evening,” Tim remarked.

  “Indeed,” Hays agreed. He hesitated, then said, “You seem to be taking a liking to Miss Campbell.”

  Tim grinned. “I sure am. Does it show that much?” Hays ignored the question. “I’m going to say something to you you aren’t going to like.”

  Tim frowned. “What’s the matter?”

  “When we get back to the garrison, Miss Campbell is going to be welcomed and treated most kindly,” Hays said. “But after a few days, I fear she will experience a difficult time.”

  “Whatever in the world for?” Tim asked.

  Hays hat
ed to say it, but he had to speak plainly. “Because of—well, because of having been with the Indians. You understand, don’t you?”

  Tim’s face flushed with anger. “Just because she was a captive doesn’t mean people will think they had their way with her.”

  “Of course they will,” Hays said. “You know damned well there’ll be gossip and talk.”

  Tim spat. “To hell with them. I know those Sioux never touched her.”

  “They did, though, Tim,” Hays said. “She told me so. She said they outraged her.”

  “Damn!” Tim said driving the fist of one hand into the palm of the other. “Damn! God damn it! Damn!” He gave his commanding officer an angry glare. “Why in hell did you bring that up?”

  “Face it, young man, people are going to talk plenty,” Hays said. “The men in this patrol are being very kind right now because they feel sorry for her. But after they’ve been back in the garrison for a while, their attitudes will change. You know what I mean—bawdy barracks humor, remarks, jokes, things like that.”

  “It’s not fair,” Tim said.

  “I’m not saying it is,” Hays said. “I’m just telling you how it’s going to be.” Then he added, “It wouldn’t do your army career any good to deepen your relationship with her, Tim.”

  “I’m not thinking of proposing marriage,” Tim said. “Well, if you did and she accepted, it would be a disaster for you,” Hays said. “No matter where you went, people would point to her and the talk and gossip would go on and on.”

  “You always said my career was probably going to be as bad as yours anyway,” Tim said lamely.

  “It would be worse, Lieutenant,” Hays said in a grim tone.

  Tim angrily stuffed the stopper back into the canteen and strode back to his horse. Hays, feeling very sorry for both Lieutenant Tim Stephans and Miss Loralie Campbell, slowly walked back over to the spot where Sergeant O’Murphy waited for Eagle Talons to return.

  “The Injun’s on his way, sir,” the sergeant said. “I caught sight of him just before he went into them trees yonder. He’ll be showing up again pretty quick.”

  Within five minutes Eagle Talons appeared, riding out of the forest onto the open ground. He came slowly, giving a wave to let them know he had spotted them.

  “We’ll see if our impromptu scout found anything interesting,” Hays said.

  “I doubt if he did, sir,” O’Murphy said. “It should be easy going from here down to the river crossing, then the rest o’ the way back to Fort Laramie.”

  “I suppose so,” Hays said. “Especially with a lot of the Indians up there in the higher country trying their best to get drunk as lords.”

  Eagle Talons rode up and slipped off his horse’s back. “I not go far today. Nothing to see.”

  “That’s what we figured,” Hays said. “You better stay close by us. If not, some soldier from Fort Laramie might see you and decide to shoot you.”

  Eagle Talons showed his agreement with a curt nod of his head. The three men walked back to the main column where Loralie Campbell and Tim Stephans stood together by the lieutenant’s mount.

  “We’ll press on now,” Hays said. “I see no reason for further stops until we reach the garrison.”

  Shouted commands got the dragoons mounted and moving again. They went slowly through the trees, then came out in the open in the valley leading down to the Platte. Normally, Hays would have been wary, but with the Indians far away, he felt no need to send out point men, flankers, or a rear guard.

  They continued across the short-grass terrain, everyone feeling better. The horses whinnied as the smells of the river reached their nostrils. The animals knew they would be allowed deep, delicious drinks when the column reached the water.

  When the ambush was sprung, a fiery bellow of smoke roared out from the woods on both sides of the patrol. Men bellowed in pain and angry surprise as a dozen saddles were emptied in one slashing volley of flying bullets.

  Tim Stephans gave no thought to duty. He turned his complete attention to Loralie Campbell, grabbing her and pulling her onto his own horse.

  More shots plowed into the dragoon formation, knocking several more of the horse troopers to the ground. Tim, his teeth clenched with the effort, held onto the young woman and galloped back in the direction from where they had come. All around him, dragoons rode like hell for any cover available outside the reach of the ever-increasing incoming fire.

  Captain Darcy Hays was the last to leave the immediate area. He joined the remnants of his command in a stand of boulders at the entrance to the valley. Sergeant O’Murphy took a quick head count.

  “Sir, we got two officers, one sergeant, two corporals, six privates, one civilian woman, and a Injun,” he reported, after Hays had reached cover and dismounted.

  “Who the hell are they?” Hays said, barely paying attention to the sergeant’s words. “Beg pardon, Miss Campbell. I didn’t mean to swear.”

  But Loralie Campbell had heard nothing. She was chalk-faced with terror as the horrible memories of the ambush that wiped out her family replayed itself in her mind. She huddled against Tim, who held her tightly in his arms.

  “Not Indian,” Eagle Talons said. “No arrows. No yell.”

  Hays, with his revolver drawn, eased up to a position in the rocks that afforded him a clear view of the valley. He counted the still forms sprawled in the grass.

  “Lord, have mercy!” the captain said. “There’re fifteen dragoons lying out there.”

  “We’re practically wiped out, sir,” O’Murphy said, coming up beside him.

  Hays ignored the remark. He glanced up and around their position. “They’ll be able to climb up higher and pour fire down on us. And they’ll have plenty of cover and protection while doing their dirty work.”

  Now Eagle Talons came up beside them. “We stay here, we die,” he announced.

  Hays’s head snapped around. “Now you can sing that goddamned death song of yours.”

  “I not ready to die,” the Sioux Warrior said. “These are white men we fight.”

  “Did you see any of ’em?” O’Murphy asked.

  “I go look,” Eagle Talons said.

  “If you leave these rocks, you won’t go far,” Hays warned him.

  Eagle Talons made a further assessment of their situation. He nodded his agreement and said, “Mmmm. Maybe wait for dark.”

  “We ain’t gonna last that long,” O’Murphy said.

  “We can stay here two sleeps,” Eagle Talons said. “Find places in rocks. Hurry.”

  “Well,” Hays conceded. “He’s right about that.” The three turned to the other ten survivors. “Find cover where you can. It won’t be long before those ambushers situate themselves above us.”

  Tim, still tending to Loralie, took a quick look and picked out a spot where two boulders made a semicircular formation. He gently pushed her inside, then situated himself where he would be able to shield her with his body, if necessary.

  O’Murphy wasn’t taking it easy, either. “Get yer gear off’n yer mounts!” he ordered. “If’n they bolt outta here, you’ll lose ever’thing—powder, ball, chow, canteens, and tobaccy or whatever.”

  Everyone, the two officers included, scrambled to retrieve whatever valuable and useful items they could quickly pull from their gear.

  A relatively quiet half-hour passed as everyone kept an anxious vigil on the hills above them. The only person who didn’t was Loralie Campbell. Shaking and silent, she sat huddled in the rocks, staring at the ground between her feet. Tim, speaking softly, tried to reassure her that everything would be all right. But she didn’t acknowledge his presence, much less his words of encouragement.

  Suddenly an explosion of shots sounded from above. This was immediately followed by the smacks of bullets on the rocks and the angry loud whine of ricochets that bounced within the confines of the boulders.

  “Ow!” a dragoon yelled. He grabbed his bloody upper arm and squatted down holding the wound. “Damn! That’
n broke me arm,” he complained to no one in particular.

  His bunkie, pulling the man’s own kerchief from around his neck, immediately began treatment. “Now, Tim, lad, sure and ye’re not bleeding bad. I’ll tie her up tight and ye’ll be as good as new.”

  “Has anyone seen anything up there at all?” Hays asked, trying to spot the enemy within the trees above.

  The answer that came to his question was another fusillade of whining bullets. Powdery dust from the rocks flew off and floated through the air as the shooting continued for almost a full minute before letting up.

  “I saw something,” Hays announced. He pointed and continued, saying, “See that big pine beside the smaller pair? Just to the right.”

  “I see, sir,” O’Murphy said.

  “Me, too,” Corporal Grady said.

  The others, looking carefully, also confirmed they could easily spot the place pointed out by the captain.

  “Some scoundrel’s white shirt showed nice and plain at that spot during the last shots they fired,” Hays said. “I want everybody to aim there. The minute you see something, fire at will. Don’t wait for a command from me, Lieutenant Stephans, or Sergeant O’Murphy.”

  A full five minutes passed. Then a figure inadvertently exposed himself. The group of dragoons all cut loose at the spot. Not one but two men tumbled out of the cover. One rolled to the edge of the hill and continued on down, sliding through the grass to a spot only a few scant yards from the soldiers’ position.

  Another large swarm of bullets then crashed into the rocks. Once more shrieking ricochets and rock splinters were hurled about in the melee of incoming fire.

  Eagle Talons, who had ducked down during the onslaught of flying lead, looked up. He glanced at Hays and spoke.

  “Now I sing my death song!”