Over in the jail, Sheriff Campbell stepped up to the bars of the cell that held the two prisoners. They had given their names as Jake Hunter and Abe Libby, and both had been examined and treated by Dr. Urban.
Campbell was holding two plates. “Would ye be wanting yer lunch now?”
“How long are we goin’ to stay here?” Hunter asked.
Campbell chuckled. “Anxious to get out, are ye?”
“Yeah. I mean you really got no right to hold us here,” Hunter said as he and Libby took the plates that were passed through a gap in the bars that had been designed for such a purpose.
“And would ye be for tellin’ me why ’tis thinking you are that two men such as yourselves, as might come ridin’ into town with guns blazing away, don’t belong in jail?”
“We didn’t kill nobody,” Libby said.
Campbell chuckled. “Aye, ’tis true. You killed no one.”
“Which means you ain’t got nothin’ on us but disturbin’ the peace,” Libby said.
“Yeah!” Hunter added quickly with a laugh. “All you got agin us is disturbin’ the peace.”
“And attempted murder,” Campbell added. He walked back over to his desk where his own lunch lay, and picking up the plate, he came over to sit down just outside the cell.
“Tell me about Schofield,” Campbell said.
“What do you want to know about him?”
“Is he a man of honor? When he gives his word on a thing, can he be trusted?”
“Why are you askin’ that?”
“If Schofield said that he would do a thing, like not attack a town, could he be believed?”
Hunter chuckled. “Sheriff, me ’n Libby, we ain’t nothin’ but privates ’n Schofield—”
“The Prime Director,” Libby corrected.
“Yeah, we can’t forget that. He likes to be called the Prime Director,” Hunter said. “Anyhow, like I was sayin’, the Prime Director, he don’t have nothin’ much to do with us privates. So I can’t really answer your question whether or not Schofield is a man that keeps his word, on account of me ’n him ain’t never actual talked about nothin’.”
“Some, there are in town, are thinking that because the attack was beaten back that Schofield may leave us alone ’n not make another attack,” Campbell said.
“Ha!” Libby said. “Even without me ’n Hunter never actual havin’ talked none to the Prime Director, I can tell you right now that he ain’t goin’ to leave this town alone. He’ll attack it again, ’n by now he knows all about how you’ve built up them walls betwixt the buildin’s ’n all, so it ain’t goin’ to be no surprise to him next time. I ’spect this here town will belong to him by nightfall, ’n me ’n Hunter will be let outta jail then.”
“We’ll see,” Campbell said, holding his hand out to retrieve the two empty plates from his prisoners.
Chapter Twenty-five
Wang was sitting behind the barricade between Chip’s Shoe Alley and Sikes Hardware. Five other men were there, too, and they were still talking about the battle that had taken place early morning.
“If you ask me this here war, that is, if you are a-wantin’ to call it a war, is over,” one of the men said. “Yes, sir, it’s over ’n we won it. Why, them men come ridin’ in this mornin’ a-wearin’ them purty uniforms, struttin’ along like they was some rooster in a yard full o’ hens, but they turned tail ’n run like a bunch o’ scairt rabbits once we commenced shootin’ at ’em.”
“You got that right, Red,” one of the others said. “I don’t reckon none o’ them will be comin’ back, ’cause they’ve had enough of us.”
“Yeah, we sure as hell showed them,” a third said.
“Wonder what’s goin’ to happen to them two men that got put in jail after this mornin’?” asked a man named Blackwell, but who was known as Bull.
“Ain’t no tellin’ what’s goin’ to happen to ’em. I mean, seein’ as the territorial prison is in Santa Fe, ’n we ain’t got no way to get ’em there no more, on account of Schofield is controllin’ the road between here ’n the railroad at Lordsburg,” Darby said.
Wang had been listening to the conversation but not participating as he sat there drinking his tea. Then he heard it. Not one other person in the group, nor anyone else in town, would have heard it, because they didn’t know what to listen for. But to Wang, it was as jarring to his ear as an out-of-tune violin would be to the conductor of the performance of a Beethoven concerto.
Again he remembered the words of Master Tse of the Shaolin temple of Changlin.
“There is a natural rhythm to things; a music of the wind, the shifting sand, the rippling water, the creep of crawling things, the flutter of wings, the calls of creatures, and even the voices of humans in daily commerce. All these sounds are to nature, as the flute, the bamboo pipes, the lute, and the seven-string qin are to the symphony orchestra. Listen to all the elements with the musical ear, and if you hear a discordant note, you will know that danger is near.”
Wang put down his cup of tea, stood, and cocked his head to one side.
“Hey, what’s the Chinaman up to?” Bull asked.
“Seems like he’s heard somethin’,” Red said.
“Hey, Chinaman, what is it you’re a-hearin’?” Darby asked.
Without responding to any of the questions, Wang climbed up the side of the wall leading to the top of the hardware store.
“Damn, did you see that? How the hell did he do that? Why, he clumb up that wall like he was a lizard or somethin’.”
Red’s voice floated up to Wang as he climbed. He ran across the roof of Sikes Hardware and leaped across the gap to Bear Tracks Café, then to the Norton and Heckemeyer Law office, the Golden Spur Saloon, and finally to the Dunn Hotel.
“Where the hell did you come from?” the guard asked.
“They are coming again,” Wang said.
The guard, whose name was Emerson, looked around. “No they ain’t. There ain’t nobody on the road.”
Wang looked closely then he saw a horse passing by a narrow opening between two hills of a ridgeline that was just to the west of the road. That horse was followed by another, and then by another. Looking to the east, Wang saw the same thing. Two columns of riders were approaching the town, not on the road as the first attack had been, but secretively, using the ridgelines to provide cover.
Wang didn’t point them out to Emerson. The appearances had been sporadic and now that the two columns had passed by the narrow openings, they were no longer in view. Also, a swift study of the paralleling ridgelines showed that there would be no more opportunities to see the approaching riders.
He climbed down and hurried into Bear Tracks. A quick perusal found the table where Duff and the others were seated.
“Wang!” Duff said, looking up with a smile. “Good, you’ve come to join us.”
“They are coming back,” Wang said.
“Schofield’s men are coming back?” Morley asked.
“Yes.”
“How come we didn’t get warned?”
“The guards have not seen them.”
“Then, can we be certain they are coming?” McGregor asked. “We did beat them rather thoroughly.”
“Leftenant Colonel, if Wang says they are coming back, then ’tis for certain they are,” Duff said. “The lad has a history of knowing such things in a way that we can nae understand.”
Elmer had already stood, and Duff and Morley did as well.
“’Twould be wise to stay off the street until this be finished,” Duff said to the others as they left.
“We need to get the men back where they belong,” Elmer said. “Like as not they’re near ’bout all celebratin’ somewhere.”
“I’ll find Hawkins,” Morley said.
“No,” Wang said, holding out his hand. “Do not blow the horn. Our enemy does not know that we have seen them.”
Duff nodded. “Wang is right. If they don’t know that we have seen them, the advantage is ours.”
“But if we wait until they all suddenly appear at the end of the street, it will be too late.”
“I think they will not come down the street,” Wang said. “I think they will come up behind the buildings.”
“Aye, that is what they plan,” Duff said, striking his fist in the palm of his hand. “Elmer, Sergeant Morley, round up some o’ the lads. Be quick, but quiet about it. Bring them to center fort at the hardware store.”
Five minutes later Elmer and Morley had rounded up ten men, and they were gathered in front of Sikes Hardware.
“We believe they will be coming up through the alley on both sides of the street,” Duff said. “There is nae doubt but that they plan to move up through the space between the buildings and trap us against the fortifications. But,” he added with a smile, “we’ll nae be on that side. We’ll be on the street side.”
Wang, who had climbed to the top of Sikes Hardware, dropped back down onto the street. “Some are coming up the road now.”
Just as he finished his report, Deekus came running up, out of breath. “They’re . . . comin’ again. Only . . .”
“Only what?” Morley asked.
“There ain’t near as many of ’em this time. This mornin’ there was near fifty of ’em, ’n this time I don’t see no more ’n fifteen or twenty.”
“Sergeant Morley, have Hawkins blow ‘To Arms,’” Duff ordered.
“I thought we wasn’t goin’ to do that,” Elmer said.
“We’ll do it now, because they’ll be expecting it,” Duff said. “’Tis my thought that what they plan is to make a demonstration only, to draw our fire and attention on them, believing them to be the attacking force. That would leave the other two columns free to come up behind us. Sergeant Morley and Deekus, as soon as the troops answer the call, put them all at the head of the street to welcome the feint with maximum firepower. That will keep them from entering the town to back up their clandestine elements, and it will also prevent them from seeing how we plan to meet them.”
“Uh, Cap’n, I don’t really know what it is that you just said,” Deekus replied with a puzzled expression on his face.”
“Don’t you be worryin’ none about it, Deekus, I know exactly what he was talkin’ about, ’n it’s somethin’ real smart, too,” Morley said. “You just go find Hawkins ’n tell him to blow his horn. I’ll be down there tellin’ the men where to go when they show up.”
Wang climbed back up onto the top of the hardware store, but he kept himself low so he could observe the two columns, one on the west of the town and the other on the east side.
* * *
General Peterson was at the head of the men coming up the road, following the same approach as had the unsuccessful attack earlier in the morning. He heard the sounds of the defenders’ bugler playing “To Arms,” and he smiled.
“Gentlemen, our deceptive maneuver appears to be working. They have spotted us and are getting into position to face us.” He laughed. “They have no idea that the real threat will be behind them.”
When they got to within two hundred yards of the north end of town Peterson called for his trumpeter.
“Men, come on line and, at the trumpet call, advance at a gallop,” Peterson said. “Trumpeter Kendig! Blow ‘Charge,’ if you would!” Peterson ordered.
As the first notes of the stirring call wafted across the distance, Peterson advanced his reduced force toward the north end of town, and the defenders got into position to meet the attack.
General Peterson expected a light resistance at the point of engagement, just as he had experienced earlier. The significant damage had not occurred until the attack was totally involved, having been drawn in to the middle of town where the heaviest concentration of defenders had brought maximum fire to bear. His current plan was to advance beyond the perimeter defenses and get the men in the center of town to commit themselves. That would leave them vulnerable to attack from behind and once the shooting began the defenders would be engaged from both sides.
As Peterson’s group approached the end of the street, the defensive fire was much more intense than it had been in the morning. In fact, it was so intense that Peterson realized almost immediately that his men, exposed as they were, and with a combatant strength that was even less than the defenders, could not advance any farther. He saw some of his men going down from the heavy fire, and realized that MacCallister had changed his tactics and intended to prevent him from even gaining access to the city.
“Retreat!” he ordered. “Retreat!”
If he had as many men with him as he’d had earlier, he would have continued the attack, and no doubt would have carried the objective. As the attacking troops rode away though, he smiled anyway. He knew that MacCallister and those with him were not aware that his attack had been a diversion only. The real attack would be coming from behind the defenders and even as he rode away, he could hear the opening shots.
* * *
With Captain Bond in command of the column on the east side of Cactus Street and Lieutenant Fillion in command of the western column, the two officers waited in the alley and ordered their men to gallop up the between the first two buildings. The idea was to catch the defenders behind their cover, which would make them sitting ducks to the charge.
Almost instantly, there was a drastic failure in the plans. The defenders weren’t behind the wall. They were on the street side! And they were expecting Schofield’s men!
With the opening volley, Bond and Fillion realized that the defenders also had men on the roofs, shooting down on an attacker as he rode up the narrow gap between the adjacent buildings. The attacking men of Schofield’s Legion had ridden into a trap! The two attacking columns had no choice but to withdraw.
“Come back, come back!” Bond shouted to his men. To his absolute horror he saw that of the ten men he had committed to the attack only six were still in the saddle. Four horses, with their saddles empty, left the death trap that had been created by attacking up a narrow chute with no room to maneuver, and no way to avoid heavy fire from a fortified position.
On the other side of Cactus Street Lieutenant Fillion had fared even worse. Only five of his ten-man attack team made it out of the killing ground.
“What are we goin’ to do now?” one of Lieutenant Fillion’s men shouted in absolute terror.
“We’re going to get out of here!” Without any further orders, Fillion broke into a gallop, putting as much distance as quickly as he could between himself and the town.
Because he had given no orders, there was a momentary bit of confusion before the rest of his men realized they were retreating. Riding at a gallop as they crossed the border into Mexico, Fillion saw Bond leading his own troops in retreat.
* * *
When all had regathered at the Schofield’s Legion bivouac an hour or so later, a count of their remaining manpower disclosed the grim picture of the cost of the day’s operations.
They had lost six men that morning. Although two of the casualties were in jail in town, Schofield didn’t know that, and had to assume that all six had been killed. Peterson’s demonstration against the north end of town had cost six men, and the two strike columns commanded by Bond and Fillion had cost another nine men. They were down twenty-one men from their operating strength of the morning, and had lost twenty-six men since the operation in the Bootheel had begun.
“What are we going to do now, Prime Director?” General Peterson asked.
“We are going to get some artillery,” Schofield said resolutely.
Chapter Twenty-six
From the Antelope Wells Standard:
A Heartening Beginning
BY CLINT H. DENHAM
For the last six weeks a man who calls himself Prime Director Schofield has rolled through the towns of the New Mexico Bootheel like Conquest, War, Famine, and Death, better known, perhaps, as the Four Horses of the Apocalypse.
The juggernaut, in the guise of Schofield’s Legion, managed to capture, with lit
tle effective resistance put forth by the residents, the towns of Hachita, La Tenja, and Cottonwood Springs. And even though resistance among those towns was low, casualties among the innocent citizens of the affected towns were high.
Not so in Antelope Wells! So far, the despot has failed in his attacks against us, and his failed attacks have cost him twenty-eight men. Twenty-six have been killed and two have been captured.
We owe the success of our battles with Schofield to the effective marshaling and handling of men, heretofore untrained in military tactics, into an effective fighting force. And for that, we must thank Captain Duff MacCallister and the two men he brought with him, Elmer Gleason and Wang Chow.
But, dear readers, Captain MacCallister will be the very first to tell you that the tactics and strategy by which we have so soundly defeated Schofield’s first attempts against us are the result of military brilliance of one of our own permanent residents. I am talking about General Lucien Culpepper. It was General Culpepper who designed the strategy of our fortifications, and it was he who developed the tactics with which these fortifications were used in the battles thus far.
Despite our earlier victories, Mayor McGregor wants the citizens of the town to know that this war is not over. “Ebenezer Schofield is a discredited general, one who was dishonorably discharged from the US Army and served time in a federal prison,” the mayor said. “He has nothing to lose by continuing to pursue his nefarious scheme, and he is evil enough to care not how many innocents may die in attaining his goal. I ask all the residents of Antelope Wells to remain in a constant state of readiness so that we may repel as many more attacks as Schofield may launch against us.”
The residents of Antelope Wells who had fought behind the barricades were being honored as heroes by the citizens of the town. The ranks of the defending Home Guard swelled as others pleaded to be included.
“You know what we need, don’t you?” Collins asked the others as they drank in the Golden Spur Saloon. “We need uniforms.”
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