EDGE: The Day Democracy Died

by George G. Gilman

  Whether she opened her mouth and expelled silence or a croaking plea, Edge was unable to tell. He looked at her specifically only briefly, then surveyed the entire camp with the whore registered in his mind as a single detail.

  Then he left the security of the rocks to move closer, the scene and what was missing from it firmly set in his mind. The absent factors were Dan and Laura Warren.

  Sentries were posted on either side of the campsite, but there was just the one circle of them. Edge was through the defensive ring and the Sioux below him - whether in council or listlessly awaiting the result of the talk - had faith in their guards.

  The birdcall signals continued. The warriors talked. Fay Reeves suffered in silence under the stink of others’ waste. The squaws and the braves not invited to the council either lost interest in the whore or were unable to torment her further in such a disgusting manner.

  Edge worked his way across and down the slope and reached the foundations of the old way station. The stream made gentle bubbling noises as it flowed over its rock bed. The fire crackled. Talk was exchanged by the group in front of the tallest tepee. But even had the language been English or Spanish, he doubted if he would have been able to comprehend more than the occasional word.

  The smell of Fay Reeves was strong enough to reach between the tepees and cross the stream to assault the half-breed’s nose. More potent and far more sickening than that emanating from the horse droppings in the nearby rope corral.

  ‘You are good, White Eyes,’ a voice said softly behind the prone half-breed. ‘But born the wrong color in the wrong place.’

  He turned just his head, screwing his neck far around to peer over his shoulder. The brave was young. No more than eighteen. The only paint he wore on his face was dark, to merge with the night. Like the other Sioux Edge had already seen, he was dressed in somber hued buckskin leggings, shirt and moccasins. A blanket was wrapped around his torso and out of this he pointed a Winchester rifle. He was squatting on his haunches and looked as if he had been positioned thus for some time. His English was good.

  ‘All the way in, uh?’ Edge asked, letting go of his own rifle so that the gun rested on the rotted remains of the way station floor.

  ‘I watched you for a long time. Made sure you were alone. You did not come here to die.’

  ‘There must be better places and better ways, feller,’ the half-breed answered.

  A nod. ‘One man could kill one man. Perhaps two or three. What I think. So you just scout.’

  He rose to his full height and gestured for Edge to do likewise, The half-breed complied.

  ‘Pretty lousy one, it seems.’

  A shake of the head this time. ‘I am not sentry posted by Blue Moon. Not considered worthy. You fooled those considered worthy. Now the chief will have to consider me.’

  There was another gesture with the rifle and Edge turned away from the young brave and started to ford the stream. The icy water was never more than knee deep.

  The approach of the prisoner and escort was seen and a shout went up. Then many voices were raised. The council came to an abrupt end amid excited noise and fast movement. Then, as Edge was shepherded between two tepees and into the fire lit circular area, a single voice boomed out above all the others. The silence it commanded came instantly, but the activity continued until all the Indians were in a position to see Edge - in a semi-circle at the side of the fire where Fay Reeves was staked out.

  ‘Stop, White Eyes!’ the young brave ordered and Edge complied, a few feet from the whore’s head.

  They’ve sent me crazy,’ she croaked, her punished lips hardly moving as she swiveled her eyes high in their sockets to gain an upside-down view of the half-breed. ‘It ain’t really you, feller.’

  ‘It’s me, ma’am,’ Edge told her without looking at her. ‘Which maybe means I’m the one that’s crazy.’

  He was ignoring her to look at the Indian who wore the most ornate bonnet and vivid war paint. He was in his mid-thirties, with a handsome face and strong-looking, solid build. The braves had parted to allow him through and he halted with his back to the fire, appraising the intruder with dark eyes that gave nothing away.

  ‘He came alone, Chief Blue Moon,’ the brave with the Winchester reported, voice filled with pride. ‘With great skill he came through the sentries and watched the camp from the remains of the ancient building. I, John Elk, captured him.’

  A brave in the tightly packed group of watchers was speaking in his native tongue, translating the English for those who did not understand the language.

  Blue Moon folded his arms and acknowledged the report with a curt nod. He did not take his impassive gaze off Edge. ‘Why?’ He had a deep voice which even speaking this single word, not loudly, had a booming quality. Then, before the half-breed could answer, he unfolded his arms and pointed to the naked and evil smelling Fay Reeves. ‘For her?’

  The whore had spirit. Despite everything that had happened to her, she had what it took to inject sarcasm into her tone. ‘Fat chance.’

  ‘Guess she did something real bad to you people?’ Edge asked evenly.

  His hooded eyes had taken only a moment to survey Blue Moon. Then he had glanced around the camp at close quarters with apparent nonchalance. The braves and squaws were as undemonstrative of their feelings as the chief. Beyond those on Edge’s left, standing at the entrance of a tepee, two faces were very expressive. The white faces of Dan and Laura Warren: whiter, anyway, than those of the Sioux Indians. Although the woman’s was smudged with dirt and her husband’s was dirtier still and heavily stubbled.

  ‘She was attacked by one of my braves,’ Blue Moon replied. ‘He was drunk. Firewater and lust lost him his manhood.’

  ‘I cut off his balls, feller,’ Fay Reeves croaked. ‘With his own knife while he was sleepin’ off what he had done to me.’

  Edge was no longer looking at the Warrens. He had seen that the good-looking redhead was anxious to intervene and that her fleshy husband had held her back, with a scowl, a snarled word and a tight grip on her upper arm.

  ‘Been done to you before,’ the half-breed muttered, the main symptom of his fear still a hard, cold ball in the pit of his stomach. But the heat of the fire kept his sweat warm.

  ‘Not out in the open in the middle of the lousy night,’ the whore retorted in a low-voiced snarl. ‘And never for free.’

  ‘For this she suffers so,’ Blue Moon boomed softly. ‘As a white man’s woman of pleasure her crime was greater than that of the brave who attacked her. But she has been punished enough.’

  The hand pointed again. But it shot out with greater speed, snatching at the weapon belt and, at the full extent of the arm’s reach, releasing a knife.

  ‘I should’ve...’ the whore started.

  Then the blade ceased to spin, the force of the underarm throw burying four inches of the glinting metal into the flabby flesh of Fay Reeves. Its target was just beneath the heavy left breast. The death rattle sounded in her throat, she spasmed once and became still. Her punished mouth gaped wide and her eyes remained open, still swiveled high to stare at Edge.

  ‘Oh, dear God!’ Laura Warren shrieked, but was still captive in the firm grip of her husband.

  Blue Moon curled back his lips in a cruel smile as he refolded his arms. ‘She suffers no more, White Eyes. Is there reason why you should not suffer?’

  ‘You’ll have to give me time to think of one, feller,’ Edge answered flatly.

  ‘Blue Moon!’ Dan Warren shouted, the words sounding as if they had to squeeze past something hard in his throat. ‘Edge helped us get the money to you!’

  The satanic smile was wiped from the chief’s painted face and replaced by confusion. It lasted for perhaps two seconds. Then he shrugged.

  ‘Laura has never lied to the Indian,’ he told Edge. ‘And we believe her when she says we can trust man who wedded her. So be it. But you must surrender your revolver … Edge?’

  ‘You’ve got the name right,’ the half
-breed confirmed, then unbuttoned his coat and held it back, offering access to the holstered Colt.

  ‘Thank God,’ Laura Warren gasped.

  John Elk had picked up Edge’s Winchester and held it and his own rifle under an arm as he moved up behind the half-breed and claimed the handgun.

  When the young brave had backed away, Blue Moon issued a string of orders in his native tongue. The group broke up. The council re-assembled in front of the chief’s tepee. A half-dozen braves went to the rear of one of the wagons. A rope was unfastened, the cover was lifted and each drew a Winchester and carton of shells from beneath it. John Elk pushed Edge’s Winchester and Colt under the canvas, then joined the council. The other braves left the camp to reinforce the sentries. The squaws and remaining braves moved into tepees. Edge could sense their watchful eyes on him as Dan Warren walked slowly out of the shadow of the tepee and into the ring of flreglow.

  ‘It happened on the trail from Democracy,’ the dispossessed owner of the Big-B spread said morosely. ‘Just the way the chief said it did. There was a little time to talk after the brave she castrated brought her into camp.’

  ‘The way we’ve got time to talk, feller?’ Edge asked.

  Warren looked sick with exhaustion. The shrug he gave seemed to take a lot of effort. Talk’s all we can do, Edge. Laura and me are as much prisoners as you are. Out of our hands, what they decide.’

  He nodded miserably towards the council. Then looked back at the naked corpse of Fay Reeves. Blue Moon’s knife was still buried in her heart, the slight ooze of blood around the blade already congealed. But the eyes watching from out of the shadowed interiors of the tepees were a potent warning against trying to withdraw the weapon.

  ‘She heard Stanton was bringing in the Kerwin gang. Seems she was Nathan Kerwin’s woman in Kansas City a few years back. Ran out on him one day and took his bankroll with her -along with the latest bruises he’d given her. Scared the hell out of her when she heard the Kerwins were headin’ for town.’ He sighed, wrinkling his nose at the stench rising from the corpse. ‘Maybe she’d have been better off stayin’ in Democracy and takin’ whatever he planned to give her.’

  ‘Dan!’ Laura called.

  ‘No way we could’ve stopped them, Edge,’ Warren muttered. ‘Would have, if there’d been a chance. Whore or not, I always felt sorry for Fay. In all her life, nothin’ ever went right for her, I guess.’

  The half-breed shot a final glance down at the filth-streaked corpse before moving to follow Warren. ‘She sure got fouled up in the end, feller,’ he drawled.

  Chapter Ten

  Light and warmth from the fire penetrated into the tepee. So did the words being spoken at the council assembly. Laura Warren listened to what was being said outside, apparently able to shut from her mind the voice of her husband. Horror at the brutal death of Fay Reeves was gone from her weary face. She now expressed deep misery as she hugged herself and stared at Edge who, like the Warrens, was seated on a folded blanket.

  There was nothin’ else we could do,’ her husband explained in a tone of pleading. ‘Stanton brought in the gunmen and threatened to send for more. Nobody in Democracy cared. Nobody would fight. Laura came up with the idea of askin’ the Sioux for help. But I ain’t blamin’ her, Edge.’ His tone suddenly quickened. ‘I went right along with the idea. We were desperate.’

  The half-breed continued to listen without revealing a reaction to what he was hearing. They had asked him no questions and he had remained silent since entering the tepee. First he had surveyed the interior and seen it contained nothing except the blankets and two tin plates on which the leftovers of a meal had hardened. The Warrens were dressed in the same manner as they had been at the abandoned way station. But Dan no longer had the Winchester.

  ‘But it’s been a long time since Laura taught school on the reservations. Times have changed and so’ve the young bucks Laura used to learn.’

  He gazed out at the flames and smoke, whirling and leaping in the wind.

  ‘Blue Moon was here when we came,’ he continued at length. ‘And a handful of others. Laura knows him from when she give lessons to his kids. He said he’d help. Took the money and sent the braves off, every which way. When this many showed up with two wagonloads of guns and ammo and liquor - we knew he’d made suckers outta us.’

  ‘But we’ll be all right,’ his wife put in, her expression and the direction of her gaze not altering. The talk’s almost over. They’ll start drinking soon. Some of them want to kill us, but Blue Moon doesn’t want that. Some others, too. Those who came to my schools. I think there’s enough of them so that we’ll be safe.’

  Suddenly, she blinked and looked harder at Edge - almost as if she had been staring sightlessly at him before and only now saw him. ‘Why did you come here, Mr. Edge? How did you know where to come?’

  There were loud voices outside and fast moving shadows against the flickering firelight. Braves used knives to cut free the bonds at the whore’s wrists and ankles. She was dragged away. Other braves hacked at the ropes of both wagons. Bottles clinked against each other. Harsh laughter punctuated the excited talk.

  ‘Came because I figured there was nowhere else you could go. Unless you were planning to just go and not come back. Conrad Power pointed me in the right direction.’

  ‘Conrad knew?’ Warren gasped.

  ‘Not until I told him.’

  ‘What did he...? Where is he...?’

  Edge showed a brief, cold smile. ‘He’s tied up right now.’

  ‘Why?’ Laura insisted. ‘Why did you come? The money?’

  ‘There was an easier time and place for that, ma’am. No, came to see if I could stop this happening.’ He waved a hand towards the scene outside the tepee. Then pursed his lips. ‘But nobody wins them all.’

  ‘For what, Mr. Edge. Why should you care?’

  Edge looked away from her steady gaze, out of the entrance to an area beside the fire where six tepee poles were being driven into the ground. ‘Thought I did care, Mrs. Warren,’ he replied softly. ‘My mistake. Came here to try to correct it.’

  The stocky figure of Chief Blue Moon blocked the entrance. He did not have to stoop far to peer inside. ‘Laura?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You heard what was said and told them, Laura?’

  ‘That you will not harm us, Blue Moon.’

  The chief nodded. ‘That is good. But I fear you will suffer, even though I and many others of my tribe would not wish it. For many White Eyes will die as a result of your actions, Laura. The money which you have given us has bought guns. It will buy more guns. From White Eyes who think nothing of how the guns will be used. But you are not like this, Laura. And I do not think you would wed a man like this. So you will suffer. And your husband. Perhaps your friend. Your own minds will make you suffer. For this, I am sorry.’

  ‘Then stop it, for God’s sake!’ Warren pleaded.

  Laura laid a hand on his arm. ‘Dan, he could not do that. Even if he wanted to.’

  Blue Moon nodded. ‘It is as Laura says. I have given my people my word. For too long we have awaited such an opportunity. Tomorrow, we will destroy your town and all who are in it. We will be joined after our victory by other brothers from all over this land. And then we will kill or drive out every White Eyes on this land. And it will be ours again.’

  Warren had craned his head to the side to see around the chief. ‘What’s happenin’?’ he demanded.

  As Blue Moon stepped aside, Laura Warren answered him. ‘A decision of the council, Dan. Those braves stole guns and alcohol from the supplies. Then tried to hold up the stage from Laramie. They are to be punished for acting without permission.’

  The six braves had been led from a tepee, their hands tied behind their backs. Then lashed, at ankles and necks, to the poles driven into the ground. As the chief moved so that the occupants of the tepee had an uninterrupted view of the scene, the shirts of the tied men were ripped and cut from their bodies.

 
; The brave who had raped Fay Reeves could be singled out from the large, dark stain at the crotch of his leggings. He was close to unconsciousness, his head rolling from side to side, his chin on his chest. The others held themselves rigidly erect, obviously terrified but attempting, in the Indian manner, to face their punishment with a stubborn pride in their ability to endure pain. All of them were young, between the ages of sixteen and twenty.

  ‘Even when you taught them, Laura,’ Blue Moon said sadly, ‘you always knew what the Sioux had done in the past. And what they were capable of doing again in the future.’

  The woman nodded, tight-lipped.

  ‘She was betting seventy-five grand on it,’ Edge muttered.

  Most of the Indians were in a semi-circle to one side of the fire again. But they were seated on the hard-packed dirt and were not silent. Many voices contributed to a low, excited buzz. Bottles were raised to lips and lowered. Pipes of tobacco were passed along the line.

  ‘I heard Stanton was paying his hired guns twenty dollars a day, Mr. Edge,’ Laura said coldly. ‘I thought we could get better help and we were prepared to pay more dearly for it.’ She spat out a final two words: ‘Our mistake.’

  Blue Moon put his back to the tepee and stepped out on to the open area before the line of captive braves.

  ‘You plan to do anything about it?’

  ‘Like what?’ Warren growled, staring with fascinated interest at Blue Moon and the prisoners as the chief’s voice boomed out in his native tongue.

  ‘Get the hell out of here. And warn Democracy about the threat from the reds—’

  ‘Just like that?’ Warren snarled, then lowered his tone as the chief finished saying his piece and there was silence outside. ‘Walk out, wave good-bye and leave.’

  ‘Listen to the man, Dan,’ Laura urged. ‘You did what you had to last time he was around.’