The Dawn of Fury

by Compton, Ralph

  “Now, don’t you lick that off,” she said reprovingly.

  It was time to look at Nathan’s knife wounds again, to see if the thick coat of mud had stopped the bleeding. He awoke when she turned back the two blankets.

  “The pain’s eased up some,” said Nathan. “The mud’s doing more good than the medicine.”

  “I think we’d better go with the medicine,” Lacy said, “unless there’s still some bleeding.”

  But when she removed the mud packs from the wounds, the bleeding had stopped. After again cleansing the wounds with warm water, she applied plenty of disinfectant.

  “Damn,” said Nathan, “that alcohol must be a hundred and fifty proof. It’s more painful than the wounds.”

  “When you’re able,” she said, “I want you to teach me to fire a gun.”

  “You did right well a while ago,” he replied.

  “But if I’d had a gun of my own and had known how to use it, you wouldn’t have been cut so bad.”

  “That’s behind us,” said Nathan, “but this being the frontier, you ought to be able to defend yourself. I’ll teach you to shoot.”

  Lacy cooked supper and doused the fire well before dark. She gave Nathan some laudanum to help him sleep, and by midnight he had a raging fever. She gave him whiskey. He was still feverish at dawn and she forced him to take more whiskey. Cotton Blossom remained in camp and it appeared he hadn’t licked the wounds she had doctored with the salve. Nathan slept all day, and when he awoke near suppertime, he was sweating.

  “Lord,” he said, “get these blankets off me. I feel like I’ve been spitted over a slow fire, and all I can taste is that God-awful whiskey. I need water and plenty of it.”

  Chapter 24

  It took two weeks for Nathan to heal enough to resume the journey to Colorado. He spent much of the time instructing Lacy in the use of a Colt revolver. She practiced “dry firing,” lest the actual shots be heard by unwelcome visitors, and by the time Nathan was again able to ride, she had become adept at drawing and cocking the Colt.

  “Once we reach a store with guns for sale,” Nathan said, “I’ll get you a Colt pocket pistol. It’s deadly as either of mine, but it’s a .31 caliber, not quite so heavy, and with a shorter barrel.”

  After Nathan had been wounded, Lacy had taken to spreading her blankets close to his, until one night, they overlapped.

  “Lacy,” he said, “I ... I’m not ready for anything to ... happen.”

  “I’m old enough to know my own mind,” she snapped. “Whatever happens, I’m not expecting anything from you.”

  “I believe you,” said Nathan, “but a man’s responsible for what he does. If he compromises a woman with no intention of standing by her, then he’s less of a man. All you know about me is that I’m from Virginia, that I rode West after the war. I’m riding a vengeance trail, Lacy, and there’s no place for a woman.”

  “A woman can make a place for herself,” Lacy said. “Why do you think I’m learning to fire a gun? You were so interested in Virg Dillard, I felt like it was him—or one like him—that you’re after.”

  “Lacy, Dillard was the third of seven men I’ve sworn to kill.”

  “Then I don’t feel so bad about you killing him,” she said. “He must have done somethin’ awful.”

  “He did,” said Nathan. “Him and six riding with him.”

  She deserved to know the truth, and without sparing himself, he told her. She listened in silence, and it was a while after he finished before she spoke. When she did, her reaction was much like Eulie’s had been.

  “Why couldn’t I have had a family that meant as much to me as yours did to you?” she asked. “You made a promise, and I understand your need to keep it. It’s the last thing you’ll ever be able to do for your Pa. Let me ride with you as far as I can, as far as you want me. I’ve never had much, Nathan, and I’m taking what I can get, while I can get it. You don’t hold that against me, do you?”

  “No,” Nathan said. “We all have to play out each hand as the cards are dealt to us. I don’t spend all my time shooting no-account skunks. I’m a gambling man, and I’m not broke. When we come to a town, I’ll stake you to some finery.”

  “I’ve never had finery,” she said, “and I don’t know that I’d want any. But I would like to have more than one shirt and one pair of Levi’s, and the Colt pistol. I’ve been afraid most of my life, and I don’t want to live the rest of it that way.”

  Nathan reined up his horse near a creek. There he saw the very thing he had been dreading. All the animals had been shod. The tracks led in from the east and fanned out toward the northwest, the same direction he and Lacy were riding. Nathan counted the tracks of at least twenty horses as he rode. While there were some Union forts in Indian Territory, it was doubtful any of them could muster a patrol large enough to account for so many horses. A more sinister possibility was that these riders were renegades.

  “There were so many horses,” said Lacy, “these must have been the outlaws Virg rode with.”

  “I have no doubt they are,” Nathan said. “Twenty horses or more, and they’re somewhere ahead of us, maybe just a few hours. But if they’re bound for a raid, it’ll have to be in Kansas. Texas is the other way.”

  The next morning, after they had first seen the tracks, Nathan was loading the packhorse when he heard the distant rattle of gunfire. It was loud enough for Lacy to hear it too, for the wind was out of the northwest.

  “Mount up,” said Nathan. “I’ve been expecting us to catch up to that bunch. They’ve got one hell of a fight going with somebody. Whoever it is, I expect they’re needin’ all the help they can get.”

  “But there’s just one of you,” Lacy protested. “I haven’t actually fired a Colt, and I don’t have a rifle. Nathan, that’s not our fight.”

  “It will be,” said Nathan grimly, “and I’m of a mind to pitch in while I’ve got some help. How long do you think we can ride the back trail of that many outlaws without them turning on us?”

  “I was hoping we might stay far enough behind them ...”

  “Lacy,” Nathan said, “when you hide in the brush to avoid a fight, you always lose, because you’re always at the mercy of your enemy, whatever move he chooses to make. That hard experience and two hunks of lead is all I have to show for my years with Mr. Lee’s army. I want you to stay put and hold the horses. Nothing more. In a strategic position, one man with a Winchester can make a hell of a difference in anybody’s fight. Now let’s ride.”

  She mounted, keeping her silence, but Nathan sensed she wasn’t pleased with his decision. So be it. Men did what they must, anticipating victory, without agonizing over the consequences of possible defeat. As they drew near the conflict, Nathan reined up. There was a tree-lined ridge ahead, and the conflict was such that powder smoke rose from the brush.

  “Lacy,” said Nathan, “I want you to remain here, out of sight. Tie the packhorse and your own mount. I aim to flank this fight and see just who’s shooting at who.”

  He rode west until he was past the line of skirmishers on the ridge. He then rode north until he reached the crest of the same ridge, and from there he could see the powder smoke rising from the opposite ridge. The men under fire, whoever they were, had been trapped in a thicket that partially concealed a shallow arroyo where the foot of one ridge joined that of the other. The slopes of the ridges didn’t have enough cover to conceal a cottontail. The defenders were caught in a withering crossfire, and as Nathan watched, one of them was hit. He staggered from cover and was hit again. He wore the blue of a Union soldier. Nathan rode along the ridge until he reached the first man’s position. Saving his Winchester, he drew his Colt and cut down the outlaw. He rode on, taking out a second man. The roar of his Colt was lost in the fire from the long guns, and while the concealed men ahead of him were unaware of his presence, their comrades on the next ridge had spotted him. They began shooting at Nathan instead of the men in blue, but he was out of range. He continued along
the ridge, and as he eliminated the riflemen, their confederates began to notice the diminishing fire from their line. The last three or four backed away from the crest of the ridge and stood up, and what they saw sent them running for their horses. Nathan holstered his Colt and cut loose with the Winchester. He knocked down one of the fleeing men while the others escaped into the brush along the upper end of the ridge. Nathan heard a slight noise and found Cotton Blossom approaching from the rear. The dog had bowed out, for there had been too many guns and too many men. The firing from the opposite ridge had ceased, and as a result, there was no more firing from the besieged men below.

  “You men in the arroyo,” Nathan shouted, “I’m friendly. Come on out.”

  “Who are you?” came a shouted inquiry.

  “Nathan Stone,” Nathan replied. “Who are you?”

  “Lieutenant Lanford,” came the response. “I’m officer in charge of a patrol from Camp Supply, just north of here. I have one man dead and two wounded. Can you help us?”

  There still was no activity on the far ridge, so Nathan trotted his horse down the slope. The lieutenant and six men were unhurt. One of the wounded men had been hit in the side, the other in the shoulder, high up.

  “What happened to your horses?” Nathan asked.

  “After they’d trapped us here,” said Lanford, “they threw enough lead to spook our mounts. Last we saw of them, they were galloping down this arroyo.”

  “My horse won’t be of much help to you,” said Nathan. “I’ll ride down yonder a ways and see if I can catch your mounts.”

  Fortunately, the outlaws hadn’t known whether Nathan was one man or ten, so they had made no effort to gather or further stampede the soldiers’ horses. Nathan caught them without difficulty and led them back to the grateful soldiers.

  “I have a packhorse beyond that ridge,” Nathan said, “and there’s medicine, if you want to see to your wounded men.”

  “We’re obliged,” said Lieutenant Lanford. “We’ll need water, and there’s a spring maybe two miles north of here. Get your pack horse; we’ll wait.”

  Nathan rode out as they were tying the dead soldier across his saddle. Lacy’s relief was obvious when she saw that Nathan was unharmed, and as they rode to where the soldiers waited, he explained the situation to her. Even the lieutenant was speechless when Nathan introduced Lacy, but they all recovered quickly, removing their hats. As they rode on toward the spring, Lieutenant Lanford explained what had happened.

  “There were twenty or more of them. We were outnumbered at least two to one, and they must have had an advance rider. They knew we were coming, and they had plenty of time to let us ride into a trap. I feel like a damn fool, begging your pardon, ma’am.”

  “At least eight of them are dead,” said Nathan. “When you file your report, you don’t have to say who shot them. That ought to help some.”

  “Yes,” Lanford said, “it will help if we can report at least some of the thieves and killers have paid for their crimes. We received telegraphed word from Fort Worth that this bunch had been looting and killing in Texas. There seems to be some method to their madness, and that suggested to us that while the law’s looking for them in Texas, they might strike somewhere in southern Kansas. Trouble is, nobody told us there was so many of them.”

  “From what I’ve heard,” Nathan said, “they’ve added to their number, and they might have done that since they were in Texas.”

  “I can believe that,” said the officer. “The last report we had, there was perhaps a dozen men.”

  “Well,” Nathan said, “you can report that they’re back to a dozen. In the information you’ve received, has there been any mention of names? I’m looking for four varmints, and this bunch you tangled with seems like just the kind of sidewinders they’d throw in with.”

  “No names,” said Lieutenant Lanford. “It seems they’re a mixture of deserters, thieves, and killers, with different men coming and going.”

  “While you’re caring for your wounded,” Nathan said, “I aim to ride back to that ridge and see if I can identify any of the dead. Besides, they likely had horses picketed that should be turned loose. Will you be spending the night here?”

  “No,” said Lanford. “We’re no more than thirty miles south of Camp Supply. Your medicine will help, and we’re obliged, but there’s a medic on post, and I want him to tend these wounded men. They’ll be less able to ride tomorrow than they are today.”

  “I respect your judgement, Lieutenant,” Nathan said. “We’ll ride on with you and spend the night at your fort, if we may.”

  “Do,” Lanford said, “and welcome.”

  “Lacy,” said Nathan, when they reached the spring, “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He mounted and rode back the way they had come, meeting Cotton Blossom. Wary of the soldiers, he had been lagging behind.

  Nathan found where the renegades had tied their horses. He found little of interest in their saddlebags except a change of clothes, hard biscuits, and jerked beef. He turned the horses loose, tying the reins around the saddle horns. He then began the most disagreeable part of his task—going through the pockets of the dead men. The results were disappointing, for he found no identification. Several of the men had more than a hundred dollars in double eagles, and that he took, for it would be of no use to them. He mounted and rode back to the spring, finding Lieutenant Lanford and his men had already built a fire and heated water.

  “Nobody had any identification,” Nathan said, dismounting.

  “That’s not surprising,” said Lieutenant Lanford. “It’s doubtful that any of them are using their real names. We’ll be ready to move out in half an hour.”

  Lieutenant Lanford called for frequent rests for the sake of the wounded soldiers, and it was early afternoon when they reached a wide, deep river.

  “This is the North Canadian,” the officer said, for Nathan’s benefit. “The fort’s maybe ten miles from here, on the north bank.”

  Lieutenant Lanford led the column to a shallow crossing, and they rode northwest along the north bank. In less than an hour they were able to see the log palisades of Camp Supply. Soldiers walked the parapets, but the log gates remained closed until Lieutenant Lanford hailed one of the sentries. The gates were then opened. The soldiers on duty eyed Lacy, then Nathan, and finally, the body of the soldier roped to his saddle.

  “Nathan Stone wishes to speak to the post commander,” said Lieutenant Lanford.

  “Sergeant of the guard,” one of the sentries shouted.

  “The post commander is Captain Chanute,” Lieutenant Lanford told Nathan. “Protocol demands that you meet with him, stating your purpose for being in Indian Territory. What you choose to tell him regarding your ... ah ... encounter with the renegades is entirely up to you.”

  “I never volunteer information,” said Nathan. “Prepare your report as you see fit.”

  “You’re a generous man, Stone. There may be some bounty on those dead men, and I can’t claim it.”

  “And I don’t want it,” Nathan replied. “Leave me out of your report.”

  The sergeant of the guard arrived and saluted.

  “At ease, Sergeant,” said Lieutenant Lanford. “This is Nathan Stone and the lady is Lacy Mayfield. Please escort them to Captain Chanute’s office. This,” he said, speaking to Nathan, “is Sergeant Wilson. I’ll talk to you again before you leave the post.” Sergeant Wilson saluted and had his salute returned; then he nodded to Nathan and Lacy. As he led them to meet the commanding officer, Nathan noticed the rundown, dilapidated state of Camp Supply. There was an overall appearance of seediness and decay. Entire log sections—especially those nearest the ground—were rotting away. Much of the mud chinking had fallen from the log walls, and if Camp Supply ever became a permanent military installation, the entire post would have to be torn down and rebuilt. The sergeant knocked on a door, opening it when a voice granted entry. Captain Chanute stood up behind a battered desk, returning the sergeant’s salute. �
��At ease, Sergeant,” he said.

  “Sir,” said Sergeant Wilson, “this is Nathan Stone and Lacy Mayfield. They rode in with Lieutenant Lanford and his patrol. They request a meeting with you.”

  Nathan looked around. The captain’s desk had seen a hard life, as had his swivel chair, but at least the office had a crude wooden floor.

  “You are excused, Sergeant,” said Captain Chanute, and when the sergeant had departed, he spoke to Nathan and Lacy. “Welcome to Camp Supply. As you can see, we have little to offer in the way of convenience and comfort. What do you wish of me?”

  “We’re on our way to Colorado Territory,” Nathan said, “and we understand it’s the proper thing to do, telling you our reason for being here.”

  “It is,” said Chanute, “for your sake and ours. It seems we’re being overrun by renegades and outlaws who have become unwelcome elsewhere.”

  “We’re somewhat familiar with them, Captain,” Nathan said. “We had the good fortune of joining Lieutenant Lanford’s patrol, following a fight. We will be riding out in the morning. Exactly where are we?”

  “By noon tomorrow,” said Chanute, “you’ll be in Kansas. Just before you leave Indian Territory, you’ll cross the Cimarron River. From there, you’ll be maybe twenty-five miles from Fort Dodge.”23

  “With your permission,” Nathan said, “we’d like to visit the sutler’s store. We’re shy a few things.”

  “You have my permission,” said Chanute, “but don’t get your hopes too high. This is not as well-provisioned a post as those nearer civilization. Everything must be freighted in, from Leavenworth or Santa Fe, and thieves are as numerous as buzzards. Quanah Parker and the Comanches are rampant in west Texas and eastern New Mexico, murdering teamsters and soldier escorts, and, in general, robbing us blind. Here in Indian Territory and southern Kansas, it’s white renegades and bands of Kiowa.”