by Luke Short
Rush interpreted and Ponce answered quickly, almost with hate. Rush said dryly to Burke, “He asks if you’re still his friend, because he’s hungry and so are his people. They’ve been hungry since you sent them back.”
“Ask if he hasn’t been included on weekly ration issue, along with the others.”
Rush and Ponce conversed a moment, and then Rush said, “He says Corinne is punishing him for breaking out last time. They receive short rations, not as much as the others. From lack of meat they’re getting weak and sick. It’s hard to hold the young bucks in, he says, and he wants to know how to get more meat. They’ve started killing their ponies, he says—and he’s lying on that point, of course.”
“Don’t they get beef?”
Rush spoke again to Ponce, was again answered sharply, and Rush looked at Burke, irony in his eyes. “Sick beef, starved beef, with no meat on their bones.”
Burke said, “Tell him I’ll talk to Corinne.”
Rush passed on this information, and again he received a quick and flat reply. “Tomorrow,” Rush repeated, “is issue day for beef. He has told his young men to wait, to see what tomorrow brings. If they get the same sick scrub beef, Ponce says he isn’t sure if he can hold them in.” Rush paused. “He’s threatening you, Burke. Those young men of his are pretty handy to put the blame on. He’s mad, and he’s threatened old Chief Tana that he’ll break if his people aren’t fed better.”
Burke said slowly, “Tell him if he breaks, I’ll hunt him down, and this time I’ll kill him and every man that breaks with him.”
Rush hesitated a moment before translating. When he had, Ponce gazed levelly at Burke. There was a challenge in the look and Burke’s eyes met it steadily. Finally, Ponce spoke briefly, and Rush translated.
“He says you can’t hunt him down. You’re under arrest. The rest of the soldiers he’s not afraid of.”
Burke rose, signifying the end of the parley. He waited for the customary “Enju” from Ponce, which signified “All is good,” but it did not come. Ponce shook hands gravely, turned, and vanished noiselessly into the night.
“He’s already made up his mind to break,” Burke said slowly.
Rush cursed viciously. “That damn Corinne!”
Burke stared out into the warm star-studded night. He would go to Ervien now and tell him what Ponce said, pointing out that Corinne’s weekly short-weight swindle tomorrow would touch off the explosion. But Ervien would either reprimand him for not minding the Army’s business, or deny that Corinne was engaged in sharp practice. Only by being confronted with the evidence of Corinne’s crookedness could Burke drive him into correcting it in time.
* * * *
Reluctantly, he knew what he must do. It would have to be done without Rush, for he could not risk dragging Rush into a scheme which, if it were discovered, might cost him his livelihood. And Rush would hate him for what he would say now.
“All I can do is warn Ervien.” Burke spoke resignedly. “That won’t do it, Burke!” Rush said vehemently.
Burke shrugged.
There was bitterness in Rush’s eyes as he said curtly, “I suppose you’re right. The hell with it. Good night.”
He turned stiffly and walked off toward the distant lights of the agency a half mile to the south across the flat. Burke strolled back to the deep shadow of A stable and then hauled up. He knew that what he was about to do would have far graver consequences than anything he had done thus far, and for a moment, watching the stable guard on his round, listening to the night noises of the post, he reckoned the risk and knew he must take it.
Presently, a couple of troopers joined the two already at the blacksmith shop. There was a parley there which Bellows, on his round, paused to join.
This was the chance Burke had been waiting for. Circling far outside the light of the shop lanterns, he noiselessly crossed the post limits and set out toward the agency lights. He was going to see for himself if the agency scales were rigged, as both Rush and Ponce said they were.
Once in the shelter of the agency’s adobe stables, he halted and listened. He could hear the occasional bawling of restive cattle in the corral ahead. Probably hungry, he thought, and he wondered if Corinne had put out a night guard. He’d have to take that chance. From watching past issues, he knew where the scales were. An issue chute was set up leading across the scales from the corral and it was here that each Apache head of family or clan leader presented his ration ticket, had it stamped, watched his beef weighed, and received it.
A pack of dogs around the distant Apache wickiups started a fight. Under cover of their yammering, Burke made his way in the deep blackness toward the big holding corral. Once there, he moved to his right until he saw the high oblong box housing the scale machinery outlined against the sky among the chute rails.
Approaching it, he knelt and felt along its board panels for the handle of the door that gave access to the adjusting mechanism. His hand touched a hasp and then a heavy padlock. Corinne, evidently, wasn’t taking chances.
Burke rose, cursing, and started beating about for a piece of iron with which to pry off the padlock. His boot hit something and he leaned down, and as he did so he heard the hoofbeats of horses at a run.
Rising, he looked off toward the dark stables, and at that moment he heard a sharp command given. “Spread out and cover the corral, men!” The voice was Ervien’s.
Burke knelt, listening to the mounted troopers beating toward him. Then he turned and ran, hugging the corral fence, but the troopers fanned out quickly in the darkness, cutting off his escape. Halting, he saw a pair of troopers now rounding the end of the stables, and each held a lantern.
Burke debated vaulting the corral and hiding on the other side, but he knew his presence there would spook the wild range cattle inside. Either they would attack him, or give away his presence by their actions.
Kneeling there, a gray despair touched him, and he thought, He knew where to come for me. Ahead of him a trooper had turned his horse and was carefully scouting the base of the corral. The troopers with lanterns had split now, one going to either side of the corral. Ervien had halted midway between the corral and the stables.
Burke waited with a kind of fatalism, and when the trooper with the lantern approached, Burke stood up and said, “All right.”
“Here he is, Captain!” the trooper called.
Burke waited, blinking against the lantern light, as the platoon collected. Ervien rode up slowly and reined in.
“You knew where to hunt for me, didn’t you, Phil?” Burke said recklessly.
Ervien said coldly, “Mister Hanna, I went to your room and found you had broken arrest. Consider yourself a prisoner.”
Burke said, forgetting caution, “Dismount three of your smallest men and weigh them together on that scale, Phil. See if they don’t weigh over six hundred. Are you afraid to?”
“You have broken your word of honor as an officer, Mister Hanna.” Ervien’s voice was shaking with rage. “Now come along, or we’ll bind you and carry you!”
“Sure.” Burke knew he was beaten. He began to walk toward the stables, and the troopers, at Ervien’s orders, flanked him. Ervien silently rode on the right flank.
They went on past the stables, between the agency buildings, and turned into the road that ran in front of Corinne’s store to the post.
A brace of carriage lamps lighted the store’s deep veranda, and Burke saw Corinne, soft, gray, and formless in his baggy black suit, watching silently at the top of the steps. A scattering of Apaches and agency employees were seated on the veranda benches.
As they drew even with the steps, Burke halted and looked balefully up at Corinne. Ervien, sensing trouble, said, “Forward, Mr. Hanna!”
Burke didn’t move. He raised his arm now and pointed at Corinne and said slowly, “Corinne, if you short-weight that beef you issue to Ponce tomorrow, he’ll break. He told me so tonight. And every drop of blood it takes to get him back here will be on your head!”
�
�Forward!” Ervien roared. “Sergeant, put a carbine on that prisoner and if he refuses to move shoot him!”
Burke had never ceased looking at Corinne, who did not move. Now he looked over at Ervien. “You heard it, too. I’ll go now.”
Burke tramped on. The troopers flanking him were quiet, awed by the gravity of their errand. Later, at the sentry gate, the sentry silently presented arms, and afterward Burke tasted the full measure of this calculated humiliation. He was an officer being brought back afoot by the commanding officer and guard, a prisoner who had broken arrest. They filed past the sutler’s post where loitering enlisted men, baffled and wondering, watched them in silence.
It was here, at the corner of the parade ground, that Ervien at last spoke and a score of men heard him. “Sergeant, put him in the guardhouse, and double your guard.”
CHAPTER FIVE
SURPRISE MANEUVER
Sometime after ten o’clock next morning, Burke, fed and rested, was lying on his bunk trying to pick out the separate sounds of a post working through a July morning. His barred cell was a big one, occupying half the small adobe building that lay between the two barracks. A pair of troopers were sleeping a drunk off in the cell opposite.
He turned his head at a sound in the passageway and saw Abe Byas being let in by the sergeant of the guard.
Burke swung his feet to the floor, and Abe, closing the cell door behind him, said, “Hello, Burke,” with a morose lack of enthusiasm. He put his huge bulk gently on the foot of Burke’s cot, regarded Burke a moment, then shook his head. “Since the middle of supper last night,” he said, “I’ve been looking around for the pieces of all the regulations you’ve broken. Did you miss one?”
Burke’s long face broke in a grin, and Abe regarded him unsmilingly. “Ervien has me drawing up the list of additional charges this morning.”
“I added some,” Burke murmured.
“For God’s sake, why did you have to break arrest? Why were you at the agency?”
Burke said dryly, “I’m a kind soul, Abe. I got to wondering if Corinne watered his beef.”
“Damn it, can’t you be serious?”
“I am serious,” Burke said gravely. “Either I’m out of the Army or he’s out, after the court martial. Let’s let it go at that.” He wasn’t going to tell Abe of his certain belief that Ervien was winking at Corinne’s cheating the Apaches. Abe would be torn between his loyalty to him and his duty to Ervien and, if he became involved, would have to risk his career.
“How is Calla?” Burke asked.
“She’s crazy,” Abe growled. “I mean she isn’t even worried.”
“When’ll the court martial sit, Abe?” asked Burke.
“In two weeks maybe. When I’ve heard all the witnesses the case will be forwarded.” He rose and looked down at Burke, puzzlement in his face. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I do. Thanks.”
When Abe was gone, Burke lay down again, and he found himself thinking of the coming court martial. He had only to plead justification and state his case, but that case must be proved. He saw now that he must do two things: he must prove his charge of crookedness against Corinne, and he must prove that Phil Ervien knew of Corinne’s swindle and was abetting it. If I can’t I’m cashiered, he concluded bleakly.
* * * *
Some time later he was roused again by the sergeant’s footsteps. He looked up. Calla, a covered tray in her hands, was standing by the cell door. He rose, and Calla came in. Before she put the tray down, she kissed him. “Happy wedding day,” Burke said gravely.
“You wait,” Calla said, merriment in her eyes. “You can’t dodge it by going to jail.”
Burke grinned. “Why did they let you in here?”
“I asked permission of your Captain Ervien,” Calla said, and added slyly, “He’s a charming man, really.”
She was wearing a flowered green dress, cool and fresh as new grass, and Burke didn’t wonder at Ervien’s gallantry. He put the tray on the floor and pulled her down beside him, and she half turned to him, regarding him levelly and soberly.
“How much of what Abe says they say you did, did you do?”
“All of it.”
“Can you justify it?”
“All of it,” Burke repeated. “Either I don’t belong in the Army or he doesn’t, Calla.”
She reached for his hand and Burke knew that she believed in him completely.
“Calla, how much of the money I gave you for our house stuff have you got left?”
“Three hundred dollars or so. Why?”
“I’m going to buy us a wedding present,” Burke said musingly. “A couple of ugly, brindle, half-starved cows.” He smiled at her look of puzzlement, and then, speaking in a low voice, he told of what had happened last night, and why. He held back nothing, and finished by saying, “I never saw the scales, Calla. I can’t prove anything on Corinne—and I’ve got to.”
Calla nodded. “But what have two cows got to do with it?”
“You get our money and take it to Rush Doll. The beef issue is going on right now. Tell Rush to pick out a couple of Corinne’s issue beeves—cows that are marked or disfigured, so if a man saw them once he’d never forget them. Tell Rush to buy or trade for them with the Apache who was issued them—and that Apache must be a member of Ponce’s band. Does it all make sense?”
“Yes,” Calla said quickly. “Either Corinne fixes the scales and weighs Ponce’s beef right, or he short-weights him—and you have the evidence. If Ponce breaks, you can prove why. Oh, Burke, he won’t break, will he?”
Burke shrugged. Calla stood up quickly. “I’ll go now, Burke. I don’t know if I can come again.”
* * * *
Early that evening, the sergeant of the guard gave him a note. It contained one word, Enju, and was unsigned, and Burke knew Rush had succeeded.
He got to sleep late. At 4:30 next morning, at bare dawn, the bugle woke him. It was sounding Call to Arms.
Burke lay hearing the sound of men running and their talking. Ten minutes later, the sergeant of the guard poked his head in and said, “Thought you’d want to know, sir. Ponce’s busted loose again.”
Burke sank back on his cot. So it happened, just as he had warned Ervien it would. A hot anger flooded through him; men would die, ranches would be ravaged and burned, and a whole countryside thrown into terror until Ponce was brought in again. And this time, Ponce would fight. He had trusted the white man’s word, and been betrayed. And the blame for all of it was on Corinne’s head.
The trooper who brought Burke’s breakfast told him that Ponce had killed an agency policeman in his break. The trooper didn’t know how many bucks had broken with him, but they were headed west for the Tonto Rim.
Burke was almost through his breakfast when the corridor door opened and Captain Ervien, followed by Lieutenant Byas, stood aside to let the sergeant unlock his cell.
Burke put his tray on the floor and came to attention. Ervien looked haggard and worried. He said stiffly, “At ease, Mister Hanna.”
Burke relaxed, glancing at Abe’s sober face.
“Mister Hanna,” Ervien began, “I have come to a decision I think is a fair one, and I have disregarded my personal feelings in the matter.”
Burke said nothing, and Ervien said, “I am releasing you from arrest. You are to assume command of K Troop immediately and prepare to take the field.”
“What’s the reason, sir?”
“You are our most experienced commander in the field,” Ervien said. “You know Ponce and you know how he fights. You’ve campaigned longer and more ably than any man in the squadron. You are needed.” He added stiffly, “It is your privilege to refuse, of course. It will not influence your record. Neither,” he said bluntly, will your acceptance.”
“I’ll accept, of course,” Burke said promptly.
“Very well. Assembly will be sounded in half an hour. Have your troop ready.”
Ervien went out, and Burke stared un
believingly at Byas. “What’s behind it, Abe?”
“Nothing. He said it all. We need you.”
CHAPTER SIX
PLAN OF ATTACK
It was midday of the second day out of Fort Akin when Burke, topping the Tonto Rim, led K Troop in a circle and ordered dismount. Abe Byas, who had turned over his I Troop to his second lieutenant in order to join Burke’s advance party, stepped heavily out of the saddle and sought the closest shade. The troopers eased from their saddles and loosened cinches that had been tightened for the long ascent, then found shelter from the blasting midday sun under the pines that grew almost to the edge of the Rim.
Burke loosened his cinch and, seeing Abe was flat on his back in the shade, moved over to Abe’s horse and loosened that cinch also. A faint excitement was running through him now. Last night, Nick Arno, the chief of the scouts, had climbed close enough to the top of the Rim here to see Ponce’s campfires. Ponce would know that, and would make his stand sometime today. Burke thought he knew where it would be, and he impatiently waited word from Nick, whose scouts were well to the front and flanks.
Byas said dreamily, “It’s hell to carry as much weight as I do, Burke.”
“It’s hell on your horse, too,” Burke gibed, and walked back to the edge of the Rim, passing among the resting blue-shirted troopers. At his call for volunteers from K Troop, every man passed by Surgeon Ford as able to sit in a saddle had come forward, and now he looked at them, along with his few replacements, trying to gauge their temper. They were silent, preoccupied. Having just come off the grinding patrol of sending Ponce back to the reservation, they had a personal interest in finishing the job now, Burke knew. Sergeant Raines was cruising silently by himself among the troopers, his campaign hat turned up at the back and in the front, his tight, leathery face pouched in the right cheek by his ever-present cud of tobacco. He had borrowed a pair of oversize boots to accommodate his bandaged feet, and Burke knew he felt ridiculous and therefore touchy.
At the Rim, Burke halted. A thousand feet or more below him perhaps two miles away on the backtrail, Troops I, L, and M, comprising two hundred men, toiled antlike up the first lift of the trail. Behind them a string of crawling black beads told him Rush Doll’s mule-pack train was coming along. For a moment, the panorama of the Basin caught and held his attention. He had seen it many times from this point, but never twice alike. Now it was gray, stippled with green and brown, with great pools of black cloud shadow moving majestically across it like lakes of cooling lava. An almost unbearably hot draft of wind lifted ceaselessly over the Rim.
