The Vengeance of Ender Smith

by Tony Masero

  “Common Dog saw them putting up that damned gallows,” spat Ender. “Who wouldn’t make a run for it after that. He knew he was a dead man even before the trial’s started. What did he have to lose?”

  Ender noticed Giltrap’s crestfallen face.

  “What, there’s more? What is it?” Ender asked.

  “The Major thought I should come personal to tell you rather than have a trooper do it. He’s dreadful sorry, Ender, he knew you were close. It was Sanza who was shot dead. Peyote got a clip on the head and was laid out, then Common Dog put a bullet in one of my troopers, he’ll live but he won’t walk so good no more.”

  “Sanza dead!” Ender hung his head, his face twisted into a bitter grimace. “That’s too bad.” He looked at the two women who were clinging to each other in concerned distress.

  “In all the fuss, Common Dog made a clean getaway, he panicked the cavalry horses in the corral and lit out on one of them. The gate guards couldn’t stop him, he was doing that Indian thing, you know? Riding along hanging down the side of the pony and there were about two hundred of the beasts on the run. My boys are still out there trying to catch them and we’ve barely a beast left to do it with.”

  “So the Major wants me to go bring him in?”

  “That’s the nub of it. He wants you up at the fort to give you instruction.”

  “That’s a waste of time,” said Ender, his mind racing. He turned to Catowitch. “I’m sorry, honey,” he said. “I have to do this. Sanza was a good man.”

  She nodded, accepting the inevitable. “It is best that you go,” she said. “You will bring our brother in safe, it is better than if the troopers are sent after him.”

  “Pack me a mule, will you? Five days supplies.” He turned back to Giltrap as the women hurried off. “I’ll go straight from here, tell the Major, will you? And let Peyote know, I’ll meet up with him at Dry Wash Bluff, we’ll pick up the trail somewhere around there I guess.”

  “I’ll do it,” answered Giltrap, catching up his pony’s reins. “I’m sorry it ended like this, Ender.”

  “They should never have started with that blasted gallows, it was a fool thing to do.”

  Giltrap swung into the saddle and with a wave of his gloved hand put in the spur and raced off in the direction of the fort.

  “Any ideas?” Ender asked Peyote when they met up. He had found no sign of Common Dog’s trail; the Indian had made a clean getaway and disappeared into the mountains without leaving a trace of direction.

  Peyote looked out over the soft white walls of the bluff and considered for a moment.

  “He has a woman,” he said. “Maybe we should ask her.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Her name is Sigesh. She is on the reservation but not liked much, her people are of the Western Apache and no one trusts her. It is known there are those who report to the soldiers and she is believed to be one of them.”

  “We’ll try it,” Ender paused, they had not spoken much about the escape or tracking down Common Dog and he thought it politic to bring it up now. “You okay with this?” he asked.

  “Sanza was my friend,” he said. “But I do not think Common Dog meant to kill him. It was a wild moment, he had seen the white man’s hanging tree and was enraged by it, he swung around with the pistol and just fired. Sanza happened to be in the way. Before I could do anything he hit me with the gun barrel and I knew no more of what happened next. I think he was sorry he shot Sanza.”

  “It’s a rotten deal all around,” said Ender somberly. “I don’t like this at all but I need to know if you have blood in your eye over it. I intend to bring Common Dog in alive, so if you have killing in mind, best tell me now.”

  “I will do as you say, En-da. We will catch him up and there will be no killing,”

  “Fair enough. Lets go see this woman.”

  They found the woman pounding maize outside her wickiup. She was apart from the others in the reservation, having set up her camp on a flat patch of ground surrounded by a defensive wall of mesquite.

  They approached her quietly on foot and squatted before the woman, their pony’s reins still in their hands. Sigesh paid them no heed and continued her pounding.

  “Sigesh, I am the Marshal for the reservation, my name is En-da. We are here for Common Dog. He has killed a man, an Apache and he has wounded a white trooper. We must bring him in.”

  She stopped her pounding but did not look at them.

  “He is not here,” she said without raising her eyes.

  “But you know where he had gone?”

  “I do but I shall not tell you.”

  “It would be best you tell us. If the soldiers go after him they will want revenge for their trooper and will kill him. They will bring in his head without his body.”

  She looked up then, a quick glance only. She was a moon-faced woman, chubby and wearing a fringed buckskin dress.

  “How will it be better if you catch him?” she asked.

  “My wives are his sisters. I will not shoot him for their sake even though he has killed Sanza, who was my friend.”

  “You are the one married to Catowitch and Delsay?”

  “I am.”

  “That was a good thing, when their mother died they had no one.”

  Ender nodded and she continued a desultory pounding into the wooden bowl before her. “If you take Common Dog, I will have no one myself. Who will then feed our child and bring warmth into my wickiup?”

  Peyote leant forward. “You will come under my protection,” he said. “I will see you and the child have enough to eat.”

  She looked at him cautiously from below shy eyebrows. “You will do this?” she asked.

  “As I have said,” Peyote made the swift sweeping motion with his hand that gave a seal on the promise.

  “I think he has gone to the mountains,” she said, her eyes still fixed on the maize in the bowl. “There is a trading post up there run by white men, they hunt for cougar and sell whisky. Common Dog has hunted with them and he is friends with them.”

  “I know this place,” said Peyote. “The man is called Lyle Granger, he has two other hunters with him. They drink much and hunt little.”

  Ender got to his feet. “Thank you, Sigesh. I am sorry to bring this to your door.”

  A child began to cry from inside the wickiup and Sigesh began to rise, she gave Peyote a quick glance. “You must stay alive and feed us,” she said. “Or we will die for sure.”

  “Don’t worry, girl,” said Ender. “If Peyote can’t do it, then I will, you have my word.”

  She gave him a quick, shy grin then. “If you have need of a third wife, En-da. I will come to you.”

  Ender shook his head and smiled back at her. “On that score I’m well taken care of, don’t think I could handle another good looking woman right now.”

  “How do you do this, En-da?” Peyote asked quietly as they rode away. “The women come to you as ground bees to honey. What is your secret? Tell me I want to know.”

  Ender looked into the distance before answering. “Guess it comes from clean living and a righteous life, Peyote. Next to money that’s what the gals appreciate most.”

  Peyote frowned and looked at him closely, and then he saw the smile beginning to break over Ender’s lips. The two of them burst out laughing as they pointed their ponies towards the Chiricahua Mountains.

  The Granger Trading Post was high in the range overlooking Fort Bowie, it was a log cabin set on an area of level ground with high boulders and a row of pine trees behind. There was a long drop over a precipice after the trees at the rear and Ender and Peyote approached the place cautiously from the front, leaving the horses and mule some way down the track.

  It was a squalid looking place with piled deer and goat horns lying around out front and a mess of litter on the ground. A deerskin was stretched over a frame, the decapitated head lying next to it. It was a fresh kill and flyblown buckets of guts and sides of meat had been laid alongside. A coup
le of dogs whined and growled over some bones.

  There were four horses tied to a hitching rail out front and Ender nodded towards them from the cover of the cliff edge that lined the approach.

  “Looks like they’re all to home,” said Ender, snapping open the coach shotgun and checking the double load.

  “What do we do?” asked Peyote.

  “There’s only one way, far as I can see. That’s go in through the front door.”

  The dogs drew up their hackles and began barking ferociously as they approached and Peyote threw a stone at them and they backed away growling.

  “Who’s that out there?” came a loud call from inside. “Speak up before I let rip with this rifle.”

  “You got whisky in there, Granger? I heard you got strong liquor.”

  “You buying or just bumming?” came the quick response.

  “We got the wherewithal, we’re paying customers.”

  “Come on in then, boys and welcome.”

  Ender ducked his head as he entered the gloomy cabin, he kept the shotgun cocked but carried it by his side.

  A long plank bar in a single bare dirt-floor room faced him, the plank set up on a couple of large barrels at each end. The floor was uneven and there was only one small window to allow light in. Behind the bar, stood a fat bellied man in a checkered woolen shirt with a black beard on his face and a Henry rifle in his hand.

  At one end of the bar two solemn looking men leant in the shadows, hovering over a sticky, half full bottle of yellow liquid. At the other end stood Common Dog.

  “You want to put that rifle down, mister,” said Ender.

  “Sure,” he said laying the weapon with a clatter on the bar top. “Name’s Granger, this is my place. You boys ready for some prime alcohol? You see,” He waved in Common Dog’s direction. “We don’t mind Indians in here, all is welcome as far as I’m concerned. Long as their cash is mint, of course,” he grinned, revealing a row of brown and broken teeth.

  “Well, it’s about that Indian along there that we’ve come.”

  Common Dog was watching them carefully; he made no movement as he could see Peyote’s rifle was pointing in his direction from the doorway.

  “What’s this about?” growled Granger, the smile of welcome dropping from his face.

  Ender turned to Common Dog. “You coming easy?” he asked.

  “I said, what’s this about?” barked Granger and the two hunters at the far end stirred, their hands dropping towards their holstered revolvers. “I don’t allow no trouble in here.”

  “You folks just sit still,” advised Ender, calmly. “I’m reservation Marshal at Fort Bowie and I have to bring this fellow in.”

  “I don’t know as I can allow that,” said Granger. “This here is neutral territory, it ain’t no reservation land. Common Dog is a good old boy and he’s under my protection.”

  The two silent men at the far end separated from the bar and stood out in the open, their hands hovering over their weapons.

  “I don’t want no trouble,” advised Ender. “You just let me take my prisoner and we’ll be out of your hair in a trice.”

  Granger was bristling with bumptious pride. “Who in God’s name are you? Waltzing in my place telling me what’s what. Damn it, man! I’ve a mind to let my boys take you apart, I surely have.”

  Ender allowed a contemptuous sigh to escape his lips; he stepped up quickly and swung the shotgun butt up slapping it flat and hard against Granger’s jaw. There was a sharp crack as wood met bone and Granger swung his head away, his mouth opening wide as a sluice of blood and a few broken teeth flew out.

  “I ain’t got time for this,” growled Ender, as he continued the turn and covered the two at the end of the bar. “Common Dog, you coming?”

  “I don’t want to, En-da,” cried Common Dog. “They will hang me.”

  “They surely will now,” agreed Ender. “You killed a scout and shot down a trooper. You just pile dumbness on dumbness, don’t you? Now you’re coming along of me, like it or not. I’m already pissed at you over Sanza, don’t make it any worse.”

  Granger had been wiping his bloody chin and watching Ender with glowering eyes. Ender felt the man’s fuming presence alongside and knew he was about to try something. He tore his eyes away from the other men to glance at Granger, who sneered and lunged at him. Granger grasped both barrels of the shotgun and pushed them down onto the bar.

  “Get them, boys!” he shouted and both hunters went for their revolvers.

  “Get clear!” Ender warned.

  Peyote, still standing in the doorway, was facing Common Dog and had his back to the men and he leapt sideways at the shout and into the open outside the cabin. Common Dog ducked down behind the barrel at his end of the bar as the bullets started to fly. The hunters fired wildly, blazing away in all directions.

  Ender released his hold on the shotgun and dropped into the open space below the bar, without hesitation he kicked out both feet and slammed his moccasin boots into Granger’s knees. The barkeep buckled, his legs giving way under him and he fell heavily to the floor.

  The two hunters were still blasting away, the carbon and saltpeter in their cartridges releasing clouds of white smoke and the stink of sulfur into the enclosed space. Flame shot from their pistols and hot lead flew, chewing holes in the woodwork and exploding against the log wall behind Common Dog, who hugged the safety of the barrel.

  One of them was yipping and yelling excitedly, “Don’t stop, let ’em have it all!”

  Ender came over the top of the bar, rising into the smoke filled room and he swept up his shotgun, leveled it at the two men and fired with both barrels. The rain of shot flew out down the length of the bar, impacting in a concentrated cone of lead that swept both hunters from their feet. They tumbled against the wall behind and slid down into moaning heaps on the ground.

  At the roar of the shotgun, Peyote stepped back into the cabin and completed the job with his Winchester, cranking the lever and pumping bullets into the two bodies until they were still. Ender was aflame, the adrenalin coursing through his veins and when Granger attempted to climb to his feet, Ender hit him with the empty shotgun on the back of the neck and he heard the bone snap as the big man dropped back down again and lay still. Ender breathed a long sigh to steady himself and popped open the shotgun and began to reload, his fingers trembling as he did so.

  “Get out here, Common Dog!” he shouted.

  The Indian slowly raised himself from hiding, his empty hands high and in plain sight. He watched them both carefully, his eyes wide with fear. Peyote was holding his Winchester on him and Ender could see the tenseness in Indian’s body.

  “Steady, Peyote. We’re done here now.”

  The Apache relaxed visibly but still kept his rifle trained on Common Dog.

  “I’ve got it,” said Ender, bringing the reloaded shotgun up. “Go get the manacles.”

  “Hear me….” Common Dog began to speak.

  “Shut it!” roared Ender angrily, in no mood for more. “I’ve had enough.” He looked around the blasted room, with the crumpled figures lying dead amidst the clearing mists of gun smoke. “Wherever you go there’s grief, Common Dog.”

  They chained up Common Dog and lifted him onto his saddle, and then the three of them rode back down the mountain trail.

  Chapter Five

  Ender realized his nerves were shot.

  He guessed he still had not fully recovered from his meeting with the Quinlan’s and his subsequent arduous escape. His chest hurt where the contracted skin from his wounds had been pulled taught and his head ached from the tension. He slowly tried to unravel his mind as they travelled in silent file through the wooded slopes of the mountain range.

  They were riding through some pleasant and peaceful country with fine views through the trees and it was like a balm to Ender’s troubled mind. He considered he was being a mite hard on Common Dog. Everything that had befallen the Indian was outside his control and he had responded
as only an Apache could. The attack on Common Dog by Jed Quinlan had been an act of self-defense on the Indian’s part; the erection of gallows pre-trial had been like an assured death sentence. He doubted, on thinking about it, if he would have responded any different himself. The deaths of Granger and his cronies back at the cabin could not be laid at his door either, that had been their own choice.

  Now, he was bringing the Indian in to face a probable death sentence if not a long prison term that would most certainly be the death of him anyway. Nothing felt right about it.

  Ender softened. He decided the least he could do was swing by the ranch and allow Common Dog to visit with his sisters for a while.

  “Common Dog,” he said. “I’m going to take you down to see Catowitch and Delsay before we bring you in. You give me your word you won’t try and escape and we’ll take the chains off when we get there. That a deal?”

  “Thank you, En-da. I will not escape.”

  They rode on apace and Ender felt the lessening of tension in his body as his more reasonable attitude came into play. He was right in his thinking, he was sure of it and he affirmed his earlier intention of doing all he could for the Indian when it came to trial. It such a mood he led the way down through the lower reaches of the mountains and into the foothills.

  It was Peyote who gave the first warning.

  “Smoke, En-da,” he said sniffing the air.