He looked around and saw that most of the horses had been pulled down to the ground and were lying on their sides. Some of the dragoons had been assigned to hold the reins of several animals at the same time to keep them from rearing up and possibly bolting.
A group of men including Lieutenant Curry had taken cover in the gully and were turned so they could shoot at the Indians charging from the western bluff. Curry had them holding their fire, too, until the range was better.
Jamie and Preacher lined up their second shots and fired. Two more attackers pitched off their ponies and rolled over when they landed, ending up in limp sprawls telling they were dead.
As Jamie reloaded again, he heard a rifle ball hum through the air not far from his head. He grabbed his horse’s reins and pulled the animal’s head down, forcing it to lie on the ground.
As he knelt beside the horse, he called to Sutton, “They’re close enough, Colonel!”
Sutton nodded and shouted, “Open fire!”
Chapter 26
Volleys roared out from the men in the rocks and those in the gully. That hail of lead swept across the flat landscape and scythed several of the charging warriors from their mounts.
Some of the ponies were hit, as well, and went down in a welter of flailing legs. Their riders sailed through the air. A few landed running or rolled and came up on their feet again, but most landed awkwardly and didn’t rise.
Some even less fortunate had their ponies roll over them, breaking bones and crushing organs.
But not enough of the warriors went down to break the back of the attack. The ones who hadn’t been hit continued their charge as the dragoons hastily reloaded. Some were so scared they fumbled the task, but Jamie was glad to see most of the soldiers appeared to remain coolheaded.
On one knee behind a rock, he lined up another shot, arrows began to fly through the air around him. One shaft passed close to him, less than a yard from his head. He squeezed the trigger and as the Sharps boomed, he was rewarded by the sight of a warrior sailing backward off his pony as if he’d been swatted from his seat by a giant hand.
A sudden, strangled scream made Jamie look to his left. One of the dragoons writhed on the ground with an arrow’s feathered shaft sticking up from his throat. The head was buried in his neck. Blood welled out around it. The man spasmed a couple of times and then became still in death.
Jamie glanced at the gully. Preacher had joined Lieutenant Curry and some of the dragoons there. The mountain man’s Sharps roared, but after the shot, Preacher didn’t reload. Instead, he set the rifle aside and drew the pair of Colts he carried. The percussion revolvers thundered as he began firing them, alternating between his right and left hands.
The attackers on Jamie’s side were close enough for handguns, too. He pulled out his Walker Colt, eared back the hammer, and centered the small blade sight at the end of the barrel on the chest of one of the warriors. The gun roared and bucked in his hand as he squeezed the trigger.
He didn’t wait to see if his shot hit the target. He cocked the revolver again as he shifted his aim. Another shot blasted.
Pounding hoofbeats to his right forced him to twist in that direction. One of the mounted warriors thrust a lance at him. Jamie threw himself to the side, away from the lance and the pony’s flashing hooves, and as he came up from the roll, he triggered again as the attacker swept past him.
Angled up, the .44 caliber slug caught the Indian under the chin, bored on up through his brain, and exploded out the top of his head, leaving a fist-sized hole in his skull. The warrior toppled backward off his racing pony and flopped to the ground a few feet from Jamie.
From the markings on the man’s painted face and the decorations on his buckskins, Jamie identified him as a Sioux. Not that it really mattered at the moment which tribe was attacking the expedition, but a part of Jamie’s brain took note of the knowledge anyway.
With his left hand Jamie scooped up the lance the warrior had dropped on the ground when he died, and surged to his feet, turning to face the other attackers. Another mounted warrior was nearby, trying to draw a bead on him with a rifle. Jamie lunged at the man and thrust up with the lance, driving the sharpened tip into the warrior’s chest. The rifle went off as the man jerked the trigger, but the barrel was pointing up as the lance thrust made him rock backward. The shot went harmlessly into the sky, and the impaled warrior pitched off his pony, taking the lance with him.
Suddenly, yipping madly, the rest of the Sioux abandoned the fight and whirled their ponies around. They all raced toward the eastern bluff. Jamie fired the Walker again while they were still in range and saw one of the warriors fling his arms out to the side as the shot struck him between the shoulder blades. He sagged forward over the neck of his pony and then slid off.
Preacher had gotten his Sharps reloaded and blasted another of the retreating warriors off his running mount. A ragged volley came from the defenders to hurry the Indians on their way.
Jamie looked around. Feathered with arrows, three dragoons were lying motionless in death. One of the Prussian soldiers had been killed as well. Half a dozen men were wounded, but Jamie couldn’t tell how serious the injuries were.
As far as he could see, only two horses had been killed in the fighting. They had gotten off lucky in that respect.
Colonel Finlay Sutton’s face was drawn and haggard as he came over to Jamie, who asked, “Are you hurt, Colonel?”
“No,” Sutton replied, “but I hate to lose any men.” He sighed. “It’s part of being in command, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“No, it sure doesn’t. From the looks of things, though, it could’ve been a lot worse.”
Sutton nodded toward the Indians, who were just disappearing over the rim of the eastern bluff. “Are they going to regroup and attack again?”
“Maybe. I think there’s a good chance they won’t, though. We put up more of a fight than they probably expected. Your men did well, Colonel.”
Baron Adalwolf von Kuhner stalked up in time to hear Jamie’s last statement and demanded, “And what about my men, Herr MacCallister? How did they fare, in your expert military opinion?”
Anger welled up inside Jamie at the baron’s sneering tone. Even in the aftermath of a desperate fight—a fight in which good soldiers had lost their lives—von Kuhner was arrogant and obnoxious.
Jamie controlled his temper and said flatly, “They looked a mite undisciplined to me at first, but when the Sioux got among us, they seemed to be fighting pretty well. From what I could tell.” He added dryly, “I was a little busy at the time.”
Von Kuhner snorted. He held his saber in his right hand, and Jamie saw blood on the blade. The baron must have fought hand to hand with some of the attackers. Jamie couldn’t fault the man’s courage—just his attitude.
Preacher and Roscoe Lomax walked up. Jamie was glad to see they appeared to be unhurt. He confirmed that by asking, “Did the two of you come through that little scrape all right?”
“Yeah, we managed not to get pin-cushioned with arrows like those poor varmints,” Preacher replied with a nod toward the dead soldiers.
“What do you think, Preacher?” asked Sutton. “Will the Indians attack us again?”
“Not likely. We killed at least a couple dozen of ’em, along with a fair number of their ponies. Reckon there’s a good chance they’ll leave us alone from here on out.” Preacher rubbed his beard-stubbled chin. “Word’ll probably spread among the other tribes that it ain’t a good idea to jump us.”
Von Kuhner glowered at the Americans and exclaimed, “This is madness! Those savages have suffered a galling defeat. Their pride will compel them to attack us again and again until we are wiped out. It is the only way they can regain their honor.”
Jamie shook his head slowly. “That may be the way you’d look at it, Baron, but most Indians have a different way of thinking. Their pride and honor are as important to them as to anybody else, but they’re also practical. They know
there aren’t nearly as many of them as there are of us. I’m not talking about just this group, but about whites in general. They’ve figured out there’s a whole heap of us, and we can just keep coming and coming no matter how many of us they kill. But they can’t afford to lose a lot of warriors in a fight they may or may not win. That’s why they don’t attack unless they believe they stand a pretty good chance of winning.”
“They attacked us today,” von Kuhner pointed out, “and we defeated them.”
“That’s right. So now they know we’re not easy pickings. They’d rather let us go and store up the resentment they feel at being beaten. They’ll take it out on some other bunch that’s unlucky enough to cross trails with them in the future.”
“Madness,” muttered von Kuhner again.
“It’s all in how you look at it.”
The baron glared at Jamie a moment longer, then turned and walked back to his men.
Preacher watched him go and commented, “That fella is purely a pain to be around.”
“Indeed,” Colonel Sutton agreed. “But he’s our responsibility, along with the mission he’s on. And I suppose, since there’s some daylight left, we should get on with it.”
* * *
Digging graves in the still somewhat muddy ground was no easy task, but Lieutenant Curry assigned several men to the detail and it didn’t take too long to lay the four dead men to rest. With no other way to leave markers, the burial detail piled rocks on the graves.
In time the disturbed earth would settle, the rocks would be scattered, and no sign would remain that four men were spending eternity there. Everyone who chose to live and work on the frontier knew such a fate might well await them someday.
Preacher and Jamie wouldn’t have had it any other way, although Jamie hoped that when his time came, he could be laid to rest on his ranch back in Colorado.
While the burying was going on, the wounded men were tended to. A couple of them had fairly serious arrow wounds, but the best that could be done for them was to clean and bandage the injuries. All of them were able to ride.
Jamie had given some thought to rounding up a few of the Indian ponies left behind by the warriors who had been killed, but the ponies had raced off with the others when the Sioux called off the attack.
The fallen warriors were left where they fell. In all likelihood, their fellows would come back later to retrieve them and carry out their own ceremonies. If not, it would be a bounty for the scavengers.
Preacher stopped several of the Prussian soldiers as they were about to mutilate the dead Sioux. “Blast it,” the mountain man told them. “If you want to make those Injuns mad enough to come after us again, just go ahead with what you’re doin’. But you’ll be damn fools if you do.”
The Prussians just looked at him in confusion until Feldwebel Becker repeated in German what Preacher had said in English. Sullenly, they moved away from the bodies and left them alone. Preacher told Lomax to keep an eye on them and make sure none of them tried to sneak back and finish what they’d started.
“Guardin’ dead redskins,” Lomax muttered. “That ain’t somethin’ I ever thought I’d be doin’.”
Finally, the group was ready to move out again. Everyone kept looking toward the bluffs on either side of the gap, but the Sioux didn’t return. Preacher and Jamie’s hunch that the Indians weren’t interested in any more fighting proved to be accurate.
After several miles, the bluffs fell behind, and the riders moved northward across open plains once again. They were leaving four men behind, but the rest were still headed for Blackfoot country and the mystery and dangers waiting for them there.
Chapter 27
As Preacher had speculated that it might, word must have spread among the tribes about the battle, because as the expedition continued on its north-by-northwest route, it didn’t encounter any more trouble.
On several occasions, Jamie, Preacher, and Lomax spotted Indians in the distance, and they had no doubt that scouts from more than one tribe were watching them, but no attacks took place. That was what was important.
When they reached the foothills, towering, snowcapped peaks loomed above them. Coming from a land where such mountains were common, the Prussians weren’t impressed, or at least pretended not to be. More than once, though, Jamie caught them gazing around at the scenery in apparent awe.
The weather stayed good. The days were warm, the nights chilly. The rain held off. Jamie and Preacher felt the promise of winter in the air, but they agreed probably it was still a month away, Jamie estimated. Whether that would be long enough to carry out their mission and get started south again, he couldn’t say.
Angling in a more westerly direction, the rescue party skirted the northern end of a small mountain range, and traveled into an area of high valleys, lush with grass and watered by twisting streams that flowed swift and sparkling over rocky beds.
As they made camp on a hill overlooking one of those streams, Jamie told Colonel Sutton, “We’re in the heart of Blackfoot territory now. Stone Bear could be anywhere around here. Preacher and I have been talking about it, and we think it might be a good idea to make our main camp here. It’s probably not wise to have the whole bunch tramping around the countryside.”
“Then how will we find what we’re looking for?” Sutton wanted to know.
Jamie smiled and said, “You have the best scout west of the Mississippi working for you, Colonel. I’m talking about Preacher. We need to take advantage of his unique abilities.”
Sutton looked a little doubtful. “I know Preacher is quite capable, but let’s face it, Jamie. The man’s not as young as he used to be.”
“None of us are, Colonel. And I’d bet you a brand new hat that when Preacher’s in his eighties, he’ll still be a man to stand aside from.”
Sutton rubbed his chin. “I suppose I can’t really argue with that. But you’re known for your scouting abilities, too.”
“And I’ll use ’em if I need to,” Jamie said with a nod, “but for now, I think our best move is to turn Preacher loose and see what he can find.”
“Sort of like a bloodhound, eh?”
Jamie chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it. But I probably won’t tell him you said it exactly like that.”
Jamie went back to Preacher and told him the colonel agreed with the plan.
“It wouldn’t hurt to fortify this hilltop a mite,” the mountain man suggested. “Just in case Stone Bear comes to call while I’m out lookin’ for him. He might find you before I have a chance to find him.”
“Yeah, I’d had the same thought,” Jamie agreed. “This wouldn’t be a bad place to fort up if we had to.”
Preacher reached down and scratched the ears of Dog, who was sitting beside him. “We’ll start out first thing in the mornin’ and keep makin’ bigger circles until we strike some sign. I don’t expect it’ll take more ’n a few days to find Stone Bear’s village. Once we do, you and me will keep an eye on it and see if we can tell whether they’ve got any captives there.”
Jamie nodded. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”
They hadn’t reckoned with Baron Adalwolf von Kuhner, though. That evening, the Prussian nobleman went over to where Jamie, Preacher, and Lomax were sitting on a log, gnawing on a supper of jerky and leftover biscuits. From the look on von Kuhner’s face, Jamie knew right away that the baron wasn’t happy.
“Colonel Sutton tells me that we are going to camp here instead of looking for the savages and any prisoners they may have.”
“That’s not exactly right, Baron,” Jamie said. “Preacher’s going to be looking for them. We’re going to wait and see if he can find them before we try anything else.”
Von Kuhner slashed the air with his hand. “A waste of time! We should all be searching. We will locate our quarry sooner.”
“Quarry makes it sound like we’re on some sort of hunt. We didn’t come up here to kill Blackfeet, although there’s a good chance it may come to that. We’re h
ere to find out if they have any white captives, and if they do, we’ll do our best to rescue them.” Jamie paused. His voice was hard and flat as he added, “At least, that’s the way I see it, Baron. Isn’t that what we’re after?”
“Of course, we want to free any captives we may find. But we stand a better chance of doing that if we are not all sitting here doing nothing while one man—one man!—searches for them.”
Lomax spoke up. “Mister, that ain’t just any man you’re talkin’ about. That’s Preacher.”
“And I’m sittin’ right here,” drawled the mountain man. “Listen, Baron, give me a few days to do a little scoutin’ around. If that don’t work, we’ll try somethin’ else. But this ain’t the first time I’ve tackled a job like this. If Stone Bear is around here, I’ll find the varmint . . . and I’ll see if he’s got any prisoners.”
Von Kuhner glared at all three of them for a moment, then gave them a grudging nod. “Very well. But I do not have an endless supply of patience.”
Lomax said, “Naw. We’d have never guessed.”
For a second it looked like the baron was going to erupt in anger at that sarcastic comment, but von Kuhner turned on his heel and stomped off. Jamie gave Lomax a look and shook his head.
Lomax just grinned at him. “You’ve got to admit, he was sort of askin’ for it.”
“Yeah,” Jamie allowed. “I don’t reckon I can argue with that.”
* * *
Guards had been posted every night of the journey so far, even while they were passing through territory where danger was unlikely to strike. Jamie and Preacher knew quite well that overconfidence was one of the most dangerous things on the frontier.
Since they had penetrated into Blackfoot territory, the guard was doubled to eight men. They were posted around the camp on the hilltop, to be relieved in three hours. Since there were three shifts, Preacher, Jamie, and Lomax each took a spot in one of the shifts, so they didn’t have to rely solely on the dragoons.
When All Hell Broke Loose Page 17
