The Fighting Edge
Page 30
CHAPTER XXX
A RECRUIT JOINS THE RANGERS
Harshaw did not, during the first forty-eight hours after leaving BearCat, make contact with either the Indians or the militia. He movedwarily, throwing out scouts as his party advanced. At night he postedsentries carefully to guard against a surprise attack. It was not thehabit of the tribes to assault in the darkness, but he was taking nochances. It would be easy to fall into an ambush, but he had no intentionof letting the rangers become the victims of carelessness.
At the mouth of Wolf Creek a recruit joined the company. He rode up aftercamp had been made for the night.
"Jake Houck," Bob whispered to Dud.
"Who's boss of this outfit?" the big man demanded of Blister after he hadswung from the saddle.
"Harshaw. You'll find him over there with the cavvy."
Houck straddled across to the remuda.
"Lookin' for men to fight the Utes?" he asked brusquely of the owner ofthe Slash Lazy D brand.
"Yes, sir."
"If you mean business an' ain't bully-pussin' I'll take a hand," theBrown's Park man said, and both voice and manner were offensive.
The captain of the rangers met him eye to eye. He did not like thisfellow. His reputation was bad. In the old days he had been a rustler,rumor said. Since the affair of the Tolliver girl he had been very sulkyand morose. This had culminated in the killing of the Ute. What the factswere about this Harshaw did not know. The man might be enlisting tosatisfy a grudge or to make himself safe against counter-attack byhelping to drive the Indians back to the reservation. The point thatstood out was that Houck was a first-class fighting man. That wasenough.
"We mean business, Houck. Glad to have you join us. But get thisstraight. I'll not have you startin' trouble in camp. If you've got aprivate quarrel against any of the boys it will have to wait."
"I ain't aimin' to start anything," growled Houck. "Not till this job'sfinished."
"Good enough. Hear or see anything of the Utes as you came?"
"No."
"Which way you come?"
Houck told him. Presently the two men walked back toward thechuck-wagon.
"Meet Mr. Houck, boys, any of you that ain't already met him," saidHarshaw by way of introduction. "He's going to trail along with us for awhile."
The situation was awkward. Several of those present had met Houck only asthe victim of their rude justice the night that June Tolliver had swumthe river to escape him. Fortunately the cook at that moment bawled outthat supper was ready.
Afterward Blister had a word with Bob and Dud while he was arrangingsentry duty with them.
"Wish that b-bird hadn't come. He's here because he wants to drive theUtes outa the country before they get him. The way I heard it he had nobusiness to kill that b-buck. Throwed down on him an' killed himonexpected. I didn't c-come to pull Jake Houck's chestnuts outa the firefor him. Not none. He ain't lookin' for to round up the Injuns and herd'em back to the reservation. He's allowin' to kill as many as he can."
"Did anybody see him shoot the Ute?" asked Bob.
"Seems not. They was back of a stable. When folks got there the Ute wasdown, but still alive. He claimed he never made a move to draw. Houck'sstory was that he shot in self-defense. Looked fishy. The Injun's gunwasn't in s-sight anywheres."
"Houck's a bad actor," Dud said.
"Yes." Blister came back to the order of the day. "All right, boys.Shifts of three hours each, then. T-turn an' turn about. You two takethis knoll here. If you see anything movin' that looks suspicious, blazeaway. We'll c-come a-runnin'."
Bob had drunk at supper two cups of strong coffee instead of his usualone. His thought had been that the stimulant would tend to keep him awakeon duty. The effect the coffee had on him was to make his nerves jumpy.He lay on the knoll, rifle clutched fast in his hands, acutely sensitiveto every sound, to every hazy shadow of the night. The very silence wassinister. His imagination peopled the sage with Utes, creeping toward himwith a horrible and deadly patience. Chills tattooed up and down hisspine.
He pulled out the old silver watch he carried and looked at the time. Itlacked five minutes of ten o'clock. The watch must have stopped. He heldit to his ear and was surprised at the ticking. Was it possible that hehad been on sentry duty only twelve minutes? To his highly strung nervesit had seemed like hours.
A twig snapped. His muscles jumped. He waited, gun ready for action, eyesstraining into the gloom. Something rustled and sped away swiftly. Itmust have been a rabbit or perhaps a skunk. But for a moment his hearthad been in his throat.
Again he consulted the watch. Five minutes past ten! Impossible, yettrue. In that eternity of time only a few minutes had slipped away.
He resolved not to look at his watch again till after eleven. Meanwhilehe invented games to divert his mind from the numbing fear that filledhim. He counted the definite objects that stood out of the darkness--theclumps of sage, the greasewood bushes, the cottonwood trees by the river.It was his duty to patrol the distance between the knoll and those treesat intervals. Each time he crept to the river with a thumping heart.Those bushes--were they really willows or Indians waiting to slay himwhen he got closer?
Fear is paralyzing. It pushes into the background all the moralobligations. Half a dozen times the young ranger was on the point ofwaking Dud to tell him that he could not stand it alone. He recalledBlister's injunctions. But what was the use of throwing back his head andtelling himself he was made in the image of God when his flutteringpulses screamed denial, when his heart pumped water instead of blood?
He stuck it out. How he never knew. But somehow he clamped his teeth andwent through. As he grew used to it, his imagination became less activeand tricky. There were moments, toward the end of his vigil, when hecould smile grimly at the terror that had obsessed him. He was a borncoward, but he did not need to let anybody know it. It would always bewithin his power to act game whether he was or not.
At one o'clock he woke Dud. That young man rolled out of his blanketgrumbling amiably. "Fine business! Why don't a fellow ever know when he'swell off? Me, I might be hittin' the hay at Bear Cat or Meeker instead ofrollin' out to watch for Utes that ain't within thirty or forty miles ofhere likely. Fellow, next war I stay at home."
Bob slipped into his friend's warm blanket. He had no expectation ofsleeping, but inside of five minutes his eyes had closed and he was off.
The sound of voices wakened him. Dud was talking to the jingler who hadjust come off duty. The sunlight was pouring upon him. He jumped up inconsternation.
"I musta overslept," Bob said.
Dud grinned. "Some. Fact is, I hadn't the heart to waken you when you waspoundin' yore ear so peaceful an' tuneful."
"You stood my turn, too."
"Oh, well. It was only three hours. That's no way to divide the nightanyhow."
They were eating breakfast when a messenger rode into camp. He was fromMajor Sheahan of the militia. That officer sent word that the Indianswere in Box Canyon. He had closed one end and suggested that the rangersmove into the other and bottle the Utes.
Harshaw broke camp at once and started for the canyon. A storm blew up, afierce and pelting hail. The company took refuge in a cottonwood grove.The stones were as large as good-sized plums, and in three minutes theground was covered. Under the stinging ice bullets the horses grew veryrestless. More than one went plunging out into the open and had to beforced back to shelter by the rider. Fortunately the storm passed asquickly as it had come up. The sun broke through the clouds and shonewarmly upon rivulets of melted ice pouring down to the Blanco.
Scouts were thrown forward once more and the rangers swung into the hillstoward Box Canyon.
"How far?" Bob asked Tom Reeves.
"'Bout half an hour now, I reckon. Hope we get there before the Injunshave lit out."
Privately Bob hoped they would not. He had never been under fire and histhroat dried at the anticipation.
"Sure," he answered. "We're humpin' along right l
ively. Be there in time,I expect. Too bad if we have to chase 'em again all over the map."
Box Canyon is a sword slash cut through the hills. From wall to wall it isscarcely forty feet across. One looks up to a slit of blue sky above.
Harshaw halted close to the entrance. "Let's make sure where Mr. Ute isbefore we ride in, boys. He might be up on the bluffs layin' for us. Dud,you an' Tom an' Big Bill go take a look-see an' make sure. We'll comea-runnin' if we hear yore guns pop."
Two men in uniform rode out of the gulch. At the sight of the rangersthey cantered forward. One was a sergeant.
"Too late," said he. "They done slipped away from us. We took shelterfrom the hail under a cutbank where the canyon widens. They musta slippedby us then. We found their tracks in the wet ground. They're headin' westagain, looks like."
"We've got a warm trail," Harshaw said to Blister Haines. "We better goright after 'em."
"Hot foot," agreed Blister.
"Major Sheahan's followin' them now. He said for you to come rightalong."
The cavalcade moved at once.