The Floating Outfit 51

by J. T. Edson

  ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ Barran greeted, opening out the roll of stiff paper which he was carrying to display the printed message and official seal it bore. ‘You all know why we are gathered here and I don’t need to waste time explaining. However, I will read aloud the terms of the treaty for your benefit. Mr. Spelman will translate anything Chief Ten Bears cannot understand into Comanche. Then, provided he is agreeable, the chief will sign in behalf of his people and I for the United States.’

  There was a silence which could almost be felt throughout the room as the Senator began to read. However, listening to the elderly civilian scout translating some of the points for the benefit of the chief, Waco concluded he was far from as fluent as the Ysabel Kid would have been in employing the Comanche tongue. Nevertheless, it was also obvious that Ten Bears understood sufficient English to render the use of such an interpreter unnecessary. On being asked by Barran, he stated he was satisfied with the terms and was told to make his mark in the place being indicated.

  The attention of everybody in the cabin was fixed upon the elderly paraivo as he accepted the pen, holding it more like a knife than an implement with which to write. It was, the delegation and spectators all appreciated, a moment of considerable importance in the history of the State of Texas. Once Ten Bear’s had made his mark and Barran had signed for the United States of America, the way was open for the Kweharehnuh to leave the Palo Duro peacefully and without the need for coercion by the Army, almost certainly at the cost of many lives.

  Just as the paraivo was moving the pen clumsily towards the point on the paper indicated by the Senator’s index finger, everything went black!

  Until that moment, the lamp had been fully justifying the faith Massey had placed in it. Reflected by the shining saucer of tin above it, its light had bathed every corner of the cabin as effectively as would three or four lanterns without the modification. Then, without there being any apparent reason, it went out. Instantly, the room was thrown into a darkness made even more intense because every man present was taken unawares.

  Nevertheless, clearly somebody either expected the sudden loss of light or was making the most of the opportunity it presented!

  A firearm began to crash from about the center of the left side wall!

  Shot after shot rolled out in rapid succession!

  The red spurts of the muzzle blasts were lancing in the direction of the platform!

  Audible even through the commotion being caused by the alarmed occupants of the cabin, there was a clacking noise between each detonation. It was the distinctive sound made by a lever action mechanism, such as was fitted to the products of the Winchester Repeating Arms Company, being put through its reloading cycle to throw out an empty cartridge case and replenish the chamber with a loaded bullet from the tubular magazine beneath the barrel while also cocking the hammer.

  Pandemonium reigned in the room!

  The pitch blackness seemed to be rendered even more intense by the fiery glow which erupted each time the weapon was fired!

  Men were shouting profanities as they dropped to the floor, overturning the benches upon which they were sitting and trying to get out of the possible line of fire!

  However, spurred by a cry of pain and the heavy thud of a body falling from the direction of the platform, two of the occupants retained something of their usual presence of mind!

  ‘I’ll go look, Doc!’ Waco snapped, finding the handle and starting to throw open the door. ‘You’ll be needed in here!’

  ‘Sounds that way!’ the slender cowhand admitted. ‘But don’t forget you’re not tot—!’

  Before the warning could be completed, the young blond sprang from the all pervading gloom of the cabin into the somewhat lesser darkness of the open air. Ignoring the shouts which were ringing out all around, but instinctively continuing to count the shots as he was running, he set his right hand into motion with the speed of long training. Instead of closing around the staghorn handle of the Colt Artillery Model Peacemaker which would normally have hung at the point, his reaching fingers encountered only the material of the Levi’s leg. However, there was no time for him to curse the orders which had caused him to attend the meeting unarmed. Already he was starting to turn the corner beyond which eight shots had been fired. The sounds interspersing the shots suggested a Winchester was being used. Even if this was a carbine and not a rifle, the man responsible could still have five more bullets at his disposal.

  Arriving at that far from comforting conclusion, Waco could not prevent himself from passing around the end of the building with empty hands!

  Ready to stake everything upon a rolling dive, which hopefully would carry him under the barrel of whatever type of Winchester was being used before it could be swung into alignment upon him, the youngster discovered that the desperate gamble would not be required. For all that, he found himself more mystified than relieved. The last of the eight shots had been discharged an instant before he came around the corner, but the wall along which he was gazing was completely deserted.

  There was no sign of the shooter, nor even a sound to suggest he was already running away from the building!

  Skidding to a halt, Waco was utterly baffled by the discovery. It was something he could not have foreseen, or even suspected might happen. On turning the corner, he had expected and been ready to find himself up against a desperate man armed with some kind of Winchester or perhaps its predecessor, the Henry rifle. Yet the eventuality had not materialized. There was nothing of the sort awaiting him. Just a bare wall. No armed assailant. No one taking flight. It was a set of circumstances which the youngster found himself unable to explain.

  Standing and scratching his head in puzzlement, but coming no closer to a solution to the mystery, Waco gazed about him without seeing or hearing the slightest trace of the man with the repeater. That nobody else was close by came as no surprise. In accordance with the orders given by Massey, only the delegates and invited spectators were permitted to approach the building. Even Magoon had gone away after having allowed the blond and Doc to enter. However, attracted by the disturbance, the occupants of various buildings were now running to investigate. Most were holding weapons and several carried lanterns.

  Suddenly, Waco realized his life was not only been in danger from the inexplicably absent shooter.

  Any of the approaching soldiers, seeing a figure erupting from, or running around the cabin might assume he was the fleeing perpetrator of the disturbance and open fire upon him without waiting to make an identification!

  ‘It’s Waco, Paddy!’ the youngster yelled, pleased to see the burly sergeant major was in the forefront of the men coming towards him and was carrying a bull’s-eye lantern. ‘General Handiman’d not be wanting folks crowding around the cabin!’

  ‘Everybody stop right where you are!’ Magoon commanded in a booming bellow. Such was the respect he had established for his authority, the enlisted men—no officers had reached the scene as yet having a greater distance to traverse—obeyed instantly. Walking forward, he went on in a lower tone, ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Somebody started throwing lead through the window there,’ Waco explained, thinking fast. ‘What I heard, somebody on the platform got hit. Send one of your fellers to fetch Doc’s black bag and lend me your lantern, amigo. You’d best have a couple more sent inside and, was I you, I’d get the rest of these fellers looking for the jasper who did the shooting. Only tell them to go careful. Unless he’s tossed it away, which isn’t a whole heap likely, he’s toting a Winchester and it’ll have some bullets in it even happen he hasn’t had time to do any reloading.’

  ‘Which way’d he go?’ Magoon asked, after accepting the first two suggestions he had received. He was quite willing to keep on taking the advice of a civilian much younger than himself.

  ‘I’m damned if I know, or how the hell he did go, the son-of-a-bitch,’ Waco admitted, accepting the lantern from the sergeant major and watching two more being taken into the cabin. ‘
But somehow he was out of sight afore I could get from the door to the corner and I couldn’t even hear him lighting a shuck from the window.’

  ‘Spread out and start looking for anybody carrying a repeater of any kind, or who looks to have been running!’ Magoon ordered, not waiting for the officers he saw approaching to arrive and assume command. ‘Only watch how you go up against him, he might not take kind to the notion of being fetched back. Here, corpsman, get inside. There’s at least one wounded man needing ’tending.’

  ‘I’m not a qualified doctor!’ protested the soldier wearing a long white coat, to whom the last words were directed.

  ‘You don’t need to tell me that,’ the sergeant major replied. ‘But there’s a feller inside’s is!’

  ‘Thank the Lord for that!’ the medical corpsman gasped and hurried towards the cabin.

  ‘I’ll say amen to it!’ Magoon asserted, then noticed what the young Texan was doing with the lantern. ‘It’s too hard underfoot for you to be reading sign, good’s the Kid’s taught you to be.’

  ‘Way too hard,’ the blond agreed, without halting his search of the ground around the left side window. His tone was pensive as he returned the lantern and continued, ‘There’s nary a smidgen of sign around here—Or anything else, comes to that!’

  Instead of elaborating upon the final cryptic utterance, Waco led the way around the treaty cabin. On entering, he found some semblance of order had been restored since the arrival of illumination. Before telling Doc—who was still standing by the door—of the arrangements he had made, the youngster gazed around. Despite everybody in between having regained their feet, he was able to see the platform. What he saw on the dais was far from comforting.

  As had been suggested by the muzzle flashes, the delegation were the target for the man with the repeater. Clearly some of his bullets had taken effect despite being fired in conditions far from conducive to accuracy. Blood was dribbling from a shallow nick on General Handiman’s left cheek. Having had an even more fortunate escape, Senator Barran was staring as if mesmerized at a gash in the right sleeve of his jacket. It seemed that none of the other white men had been touched. However, Chief Ten Bears was slumped unmoving in a partially sitting position against the wall. Blood was running from holes in his left shoulder and the right side of his chest.

  ‘Paddy’s sent for your bag!’ Waco told his companion.

  ‘Bueno,’ Doc replied, nodding in gratitude to the burly non-com who had entered after reporting to the senior of the newly arrived officers what had happened and was being done. ‘Now can you get me through to the platform, amigo.’

  ‘Make way there now, gentlemen,’ Magoon thundered, drowning the babble of excited conversation. ‘Will you be letting the doctor here through, please!’

  ‘Doctor,’ Captain Massey barked in the silence which followed the words of the burly non-com. He had contrived to reach but not yet step on to the platform. Glaring in puzzlement at the two Texans who were following the pale and clearly worried corpsman through the gap which had opened in the crowd, then went on, ‘Where the hell is the doctor, Magoon?’

  ‘Right here,’ Doc introduced, pointing a thumb at his chest.

  ‘You!’ the adjutant snorted. ‘If this is some kind of jo—!’

  ‘It isn’t, Captain!’ Handiman stated emphatically. ‘Thank god you’re here, Doctor Leroy. Is there anything you want?’

  ‘I’ve sent for my bag,’ the slender cowhand replied, thankful he was known to the General in his professional—if not formally qualified—capacity and had received his backing. But I could do with a whole heap less folks standing around.’

  ‘Clear the cabin, Captain Massey!’ Handiman barked, with no more hesitation than he had shown when giving his seal of approval to the Texan. ‘And have everybody searched as they go out!’

  ‘They were all searched and, where necessary, made to leave behind any weapons they were carrying before they were allowed inside, sir,’ the adjutant pointed out, with the deference of one who was questioning an order given by a clearly furious senior officer. ‘And, judging from the clicking sound I heard between the shots, I’d say it was a repeating rifle and not a revolver being used.’

  ‘That’s the way I heard it, General,’ the civilian scout seconded. ‘Whoever did it must’ve cut loose through the window with a repeater, not a handgun.’

  ‘I heard the lever working, sir,’ the Colonel supported. ‘Very well, don’t bother searching them,’ Handiman rescinded, also having heard the distinctive sound but, in his anxiety not giving a thought to its meaning until the matter was brought to his attention. ‘Clear the room and then I want some questions answered.’

  ‘Hey, amigo,’ Waco called, as Massey turned a coldly pointed look in his direction. ‘I reckon you’ll likely be needing me, won’t you?’

  ‘Best stick around in case I do,’ Doc confirmed, taking the hint. Stepping on to the platform, he continued over his shoulder, ‘Anyways, the General’s going to want to be told what you found outside.’

  ‘I certainly am,’ Handiman agreed, dabbing at his cheek with a handkerchief. Seeing the slender cowhand glancing his way, he continued, ‘Don’t worry about me. See to the Chief, he needs it more than I do.’

  ‘I’ll have the corpsman ’tend to you soon’s my bag here,’ Doc promised, without saying it had been his intention to look after the wounded Indian first.

  ‘Shall I have everybody wait at the post sutler’s, sir?’ Massey asked, watching the Texans going towards Ten Bears.

  ‘Send somebody else to take them there,’ Handiman instructed. ‘Stay here yourself and, as soon as they’ve gone, find out why that god-damned lamp of yours failed.’

  For a moment, it seemed the adjutant meant to make a comment of some sort. Then the discipline instilled by years of military training caused him merely to stiffen to a brace and reply, ‘Yo!’ in a neutral tone which nevertheless sounded just a trifle sullen.

  If the General noticed the inflexion in the Captain’s voice, he made no reference to it. Instead, he turned his attention to where Doc had commenced an examination of the wounded man and asked, ‘Is he still alive?’

  ‘Yes,’ the slender cowhand replied, having eased the torso of the sitting man forward to look at his back. ‘His head cracked against the wall as he was going down. It knocked him unconscious and I hope he stays that way for a while.’

  ‘Why?’ Handiman inquired.

  ‘The bullets are still in him,’ Doc explained. ‘And they’re going to have to come out to keep him alive.’

  ‘They’re both still inside him?’ Waco queried, looking away from the platform.

  ‘Both of them,’ Doc confirmed and his gaze also flickered briefly to the window at the left side of the room. Then, having exchanged a quick glance with the blond youngster, his voice took on a note of asperity as he went on, ‘I hope whoever’s fetching my bag’s not taking the long trail there and back!’

  ‘Here it is now!’ the commanding officer of the Fort announced in a relieved tone, as a breathless soldier entered and hurried forward.

  ‘Do you have everything in there, amigo?’ Waco inquired, watching the slender cowhand accept the black bag which he had carried strapped to the horn of his saddle.

  ‘Why sure,’ Doc drawled, having looked around on noticing the emphasis placed upon one word and drawn the correct conclusion from the way in which the blond youngster’s right hand lifted in what seemed to be a casual gesture. Its forefinger was slightly crooked, the other three more bent and the thumb curved above them in a fashion which he found significant, ‘l always have everything in here, just like pappy taught me.’

  ‘Bueno,’ Waco declared, lowering and relaxing the hand without anybody except the other Texan drawing conclusions from what he had said and done. ‘You never know when you might be needing it!’

  ‘It’s ready if I do,’ the slender cowhand promised, then his voice took on a brusque tone and be continued, ‘Now I’d be obliged should
the platform be cleared.’

  ‘Well, Captain Massey,’ Handiman said, after everybody except Doc and the corpsman had stepped to the floor of the cabin. ‘Why did it go out?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir,’ the adjutant admitted, having lowered and examined the lamp which failed at such an inopportune moment. ‘There’s still plenty of oil in it and the wick hasn’t burned away.’

  ‘Sam Snenton, up to Dodge City, used to light the Texas House with lamps fitted that way,’ Waco remarked. ‘Only he quit ’cause the trail hands learned you could put ’em out by giving the rope they was hung from a jerk.’

  ‘Then the man with the rifle must have reached in and done it!’ Barran guessed. ‘Or he had an accomplice with him to do it.’

  ‘Did I hear that you went out after the man doing the shooting, Waco?’ the General inquired.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the youngster answered. ‘Only, when I got ’round to the window, there wasn’t hide nor hair of him to be seen.’

  ‘You mean he’d already run away?’ Barran suggested.

  ‘If there was anybody out there in the first place,’ Waco replied.

  ‘How do you mean, “If there was anybody out there”?’ Massey barked derisively, putting down the lamp and waving his left hand towards where Doc was kneeling by Ten Bears. ‘Are you saying we all just imagined the shooting?’