by Yes Jack
There was no percentage in tangling with the cavalry and so Hilton and his men rode off fast, as soon as they realized the significance of the column of men heading into the little town. There was no special reason to expect pursuit, but the nine riders, nevertheless, kept up a pretty lively pace for half an hour or so. They were up and into the hills surrounding the town before they reined in and took breath to see what might be done next.
A backward glance or two told Hilton and his boys that nobody was coming after them and they then fell to debating their next course of action.
‘Seems to me,’ said one man, ‘we want to get to the nearest big town and cash those there bonds. Can’t speak for the rest o’ you, but I ain’t ’xactly what you’d call flush.’
There were murmurs of agreement to this. Out of the corner of their eyes, the eight men watched Tom Hilton, so as to get some clue about the way his mind was moving. Hilton, though, said nothing and his face betrayed no indication of what he was thinking. It was during this awkward silence that they heard the sound of a body of horsemen heading towards them from the opposite direction to that from which they had come. A rocky outcrop reared up and blocked their view in that direction, but they didn’t have long to wait, because round the edge of the rocky bluff came a troop of Indians. These fellows all looked to be armed to the teeth and it was not at first clear which of the groups was the larger. That being so, Hilton’s band at once drew and cocked their weapons, so as to be prepared for any eventuality.
The Indians gave the impression of being surprised to find anybody up in the hills and they came to a halt twenty yards away from the other men. The two groups sat there on their horses, eyeing each other warily. Although the white men had a slight advantage, in that their guns were ready and cocked, it was only a slender one, because there were at least fifteen or twenty Indians in total. If shooting started, it was likely to be a bloody affair. Fortunately, it never came to this point. One of the men riding with Hilton was a ’breed who called himself Ben. This man was a taciturn and short tempered individual who had been in a number of brawls precipitated by men making remarks about his ancestry. None of the others knew what tribe, if any he belonged to, but he seemingly recognized something about the Indians in front of them, for he said, ‘You men put up your weapons. I’m a goin’ to parlay with ’em.’
The man they knew as Ben trotted his horse forward, until he was barely six feet in front of the lead rider of the Indian party. Then he halted and began, as it seemed to the others, to wave his arms around and grunt unintelligibly. This went on for long enough for the others to begin feeling uneasy. Then it was over and Ben wheeled round and rode back to them. The Indians approached and one or two of the men raised their weapons in readiness for action.
Ben said urgently, ‘Chris’sake, you fools! Let ’em be. They got no argument with us.’
It appeared that the ’breed was right, because the fifteen riders simply walked their horses past the white men and then, once they were clear, urged their mounts on into a trot. Then they were gone.
‘What was that all about?’ asked Tom Hilton, a mite irritated that somebody other than he had played the leading role in settling some difficulty.
‘Good news for us,’ said Ben, ‘those boys was carrying guns that we sold ’em one time. They ’membered me, at any rate. You white men all look alike to them, though. Don’t you recall, ’bout six months since? We had a crate or two of guns and we traded ’em to the Indians. Those boys were carrying those self-same guns.’
‘Well, ain’t that worked out a treat,’ said Hilton, a broad smile splitting his face. ‘It’s just like it says in scripture. You cast your bread upon the waters and it will return to you a hundred-fold. Praise the Lord!’
‘Happen there’s somewhat in that,’ said Ben, ‘but you ain’t yet heard the best of it.’
‘There’s more?’ asked one of the men.
‘You bet your life there’s more. More than you lunkheads can guess.’
Tom Hilton was getting tired of the ’breed putting on side and playing centre stage. He said, ‘Well then, come on and out with it. You’re as talkative as a woman sometimes. What else did you learn?’
Ben looked like the cat who’d got the cream and was by no means disposed to spill all at once. The look in Hilton’s face, though, suggested that that gentleman would take it exceedingly ill if he were caused to wait much longer and so Ben announced grandly, ‘Fact is, I’d say our fortunes are made. Leastways, we got it made for a space. Those boys are riding to some big gathering. They’re Kiowa, but they’re heading off to a feast with a bunch of Comanche too. It’s scheduled for the full moon, two nights from now. Next day, they’re risin’.’
‘Risin’?’ said Hilton. ‘What are you talking of?’
‘Just ’xactly what I say. They’re going to be attacking Fort Williams and then when they taken all the guns there, they gonna sweep down through the country, killin’ all the white men as they can lay their hands on.’
Now it was Tom Hilton’s turn to smile. He said, ‘Lord, I see just what you mean. Rich pickings for us, if we can avoid gettin’ our throats cut. You’re saying as we can just kind o’ tag along after them and then take whatever we’ve a fancy to? No law, no soldiers. Just help ourselves, is that it?’
‘So I thought,’ said Ben.
‘You thought right, boy. I reckon as our luck’s in.’
Chapter 6
When they had set out, a little before midday, Talbot Rogers had estimated that the two of them should strike Fort Williams by late the following evening. His calculations were all founded upon travelling at a trot, interspersed, if the girl was up to it, with a little cantering. All his figuring though was set at naught within two hours.
After they had been riding at an easy pace for a half hour, Talbot noticed that the mare he had taken was breathing a little heavily and seemed to him to be making heavy weather of what was, after all, a smooth and level track. He said nothing for a while, but noticed that he was falling behind Melanie’s horse. She called back at him cheerfully, ‘Come on, you slowpoke!’
‘Wait along there,’ he said loudly, ‘we needs must stop.’
The girl reined in and then turned her horse back to see what the problem was. While she was doing so, Talbot dismounted and began feeling the horse’s belly carefully. His heart sank as he found one spot which was distended and the touching of which caused the beast to jitter sideways in distress.
‘What is it?’ said Melanie. ‘Why have we stopped?’
‘I couldn’t take oath to it, but I’m strongly of the opinion that this creature of mine has the colic.’
‘Colic? Are you sure?’
‘Not yet. But we can’t go any further just now.’
The girl got down from her own mount and came over to stroke the head of the horse that Talbot had been riding. She said quietly, ‘I seed a horse with the colic. It was just terrible. Is there naught to be done?’
‘Not here and now. Animal doctors can sometimes do stuff, but I wouldn’t know how.’
‘What can be done?’
‘I seen a man once that kind of massaged a horse’s belly and untwisted some part or other. Another time, one fellow I saw pushed a sharp spike in and released a lot of gas. We can’t do anything of that sort.’
‘What are we going to do then?’
‘Just set here and wait for a bit.’
It took two hours for the horse that Talbot had been riding to become so mad with the pain of whatever was afflicting its entrails that it collapsed on the ground and began rolling around in agony, whinnying the while. The creature’s eyes rolled in terror and flecks of foam appeared around its mouth. When matters reached that stage, Talbot told Melanie to take a stroll away from where they had stopped. The child seemed disposed to argue the point, but he was quite firm. She had got thirty yards when there was the report of a pistol. When she turned in alarm, it was to see that Talbot had put the creature out of its misery.
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Talbot was not feeling any too chatty after being compelled to put an end to the suffering animal. Nonetheless, Melanie Barker was determined to find out how this affected their plans. She said, ‘Can’t we just double up and both ride on the one horse?’
‘Not for long, we can’t. You can ride and I’ll walk. But it’s like to double our journey time to Fort Williams.’
‘Hadn’t we better start going then?’
The girl’s spirit and pluck suddenly touched Talbot’s heart and he reached out his hand and patted her on the head, saying, ‘Lord, but you’re a game one!’
She smiled and then said, ‘Does that mean we’re going on now?’
‘I guess so.’
They carried on for the rest of that afternoon, taking it in turns to ride and walk. For his own part, Talbot would have been content to let Melanie ride for the whole time, but she wanted to stretch her legs from time to time and so insisted in getting off sometimes.
They hadn’t much in the way of food and what they did have was not overly appetizing, consisting just of dry bread and a hunk of cheese, the meagre fare being washed down with draughts of water from the canteen.
By about three in the afternoon, Melanie was growing weary and was plainly in need of a good long rest. Talbot was uneasy about stopping by the roadside, notwithstanding the fact that they had seen no other travellers on the road since setting off. It was while he was musing on what to do next, that he caught sight of a gleam of white in the distance, perhaps a mile and a half away and to the right of the direction in which they were making their way.
‘Your eyes are younger than mine, sharper too most likely,’ said Talbot. ‘Look over yonder and tell me what you see.’
The girl squinted into the distance and said, ‘You mean that little building over yonder?’
‘It is a building, then? That’s a mercy. Think you’re up to walking across a bit of rough ground now, ’til we reach it?’
Melanie shrugged. ‘Looks like I’ll have to.’
As the two of them drew close to the low, whitewashed structure, Talbot saw that it was a mission station. Judging by the cross atop of it and the shrine to Our Lady, which stood to one side, he guessed that it was run by Catholics. Before they reached the door, a black-robed man emerged and asked them their business.
‘Just two travellers as could do with resting and perhaps a bite to eat,’ replied Talbot. ‘We mean you no harm.’
‘Come in then,’ said the priest, ‘And a good welcome to you. Forgive me for being a little cautious. There’s need, just now.’
The room into which they were led was cool and dark, the narrow slits of windows allowing little light to enter the place. Talbot guessed rightly that the purpose of such small windows was defensive, should the missioner have to hole up here against people seeking to harm him. When they were seated, the priest introduced himself.
‘My name is Father O’Grady and I’m pleased to meet you both. Although why you’re wandering across the territory in this way, the good Lord alone knows. Father and daughter, are you?’
‘No,’ said Talbot, ‘we’re no blood relations. I’m Talbot Rogers and this is Miss Barker. We’re on our way to Fort Williams.’
‘You’ll be lucky to reach it alive, the way you’re currently situated,’ observed Father O’Grady dryly. ‘What are you about, Mr Rogers, to take a young girl on such a perilous journey?’
‘It’s by way of being a long story. I don’t suppose that you would be able to offer us some refreshments?’
Although they did not realize it as they tucked into the food which the priest set before them, the Hilton gang were only a few hours’ ride from the mission station. Luckily, Tom Hilton and his men were not making their way in a straight line, either literally or metaphorically. The nine riders were weaving their way through the low range of hills which ran parallel to the road to Fort Williams and it was while they were picking their way along the rocky trail that a most unfortunate incident occurred.
There was not a great deal in the way of law enforcement in those parts of the territory at that time but every so often, a marshal or bounty hunter would show up in search of this or that individual. Hilton and the eight men riding with him rode round a pile of boulders and came upon three men who were brewing up coffee on a little fire built of dry branches from a nearby bristlecone pine. Although they must have heard the horses picking their way along the rocky path, the men crouching round the fire showed no signs of alarm at the sudden appearance of the nine riders.
‘Hidy,’ said the man holding the pot of coffee, ‘fine day for a ride.’ He continued fussing round with the pot, trying to position it more effectively on the rocks which surrounded the fire.
The fact that all three of the men round the fire were sporting tin stars did not escape the notice of any of the men in Hilton’s party. Although they were not over-fond of lawmen, they had other fish to fry that day and would have been quite happy to carry on past and get about their business, if one of those warming his hands at the fire had not stood up, stared hard at them all, before focusing his attention on the one man of the group he seemingly recognized. He said, ‘You be Tom Hilton, I reckon!’
The other two men looked up in surprise, mingled with interest and also alarm at the odds which they found themselves facing. Now Tom Hilton was usually very quick to start shooting, never troubling himself unduly about such minor matters as giving a man warning and affording him a chance to defend himself. This time, however, he met his match, because before he or any of his band had even moved, the fellow who had challenged him had drawn his pistol and had it pointing at Hilton’s face. He said, ‘Even if any o’ your boys should draw on me now, I can promise you’ll be dead before they get off a shot.’
It wasn’t often that Hilton was quite lost for words, but it took him a second or two to come to terms with this unexpected turn of events. When he had done so, he said in a low voice, ‘Don’t any of you men pull your pistols. Just take it easy, you hear what I tell you?’ Throughout this speech, he had never once taken his eyes off the face of the man who was drawing down on him. To this individual, he said, ‘What will you have? We outnumber you nigh on three to one. It’ll be a bloody business if we set to.’
So far the other two men – whether they were marshals or deputies, it was impossible to say without getting closer and examining their badges – had made no further move after getting to their feet. They hadn’t drawn and it was likely that, just like Hilton’s men, none of them wanted to do anything which might precipitate a bloodbath. That this was the case was shown when one of them said, addressing Hilton directly, ‘Seems to me, Mister whatever your name is, that my partner here’s got hisself into a muddle. He’s mistook you for a fellow called Hilton. We heard of that man, but we ain’t lookin’ for him this minute. Fact is, we’re after a horse of another colour.’
‘I’m tellin’ you,’ said the fellow holding the gun on Hilton, ‘this here’s Tom Hilton. I’d know him anywhere!’
‘Shut up, Dave,’ said the other man easily, ‘you made an error, is all. Happens to the best of us.’ He turned to Tom Hilton again, saying, ‘Tell you what, now. Why’nt you and your friends just ride on, nice and slow? We don’t none of us want any bloodlettin’, I wouldn’t have thought.’
‘What does you friend say?’ enquired Hilton. ‘He of the same opinion?’
‘Don’t you mind him none. Just ride on, real slow, like.’
Keeping a weather eye on the man who still had a pistol pointing in his direction, Tom Hilton set his mount walking slowly forward, being sure to keep his hands perfectly still, so that nobody might have any apprehension that he was about to go for his gun. The other eight members of the party also started their horses, moving forward slowly, passing the three men standing round the fire. The one who had recognized Hilton wore a look of baffled fury on his face. He was in a minority of one though, because all the others, both the lawmen and the bandits, did not desire any sort of
gun battle that afternoon.
Ten of the men up in those hills were happy with the peaceful outcome of the encounter that afternoon. The two exceptions were Tom Hilton and the man who had drawn his gun and aimed it right at Hilton’s face. The deputy marshal was exceedingly ticked off because he had a crow to pluck with Hilton from long ago and thought he had a chance to take Hilton in charge and see him hang. As for Tom Hilton himself, no man had ever aimed a gun at him in that way and lived to brag about it later and Hilton was damned if this son of a bitch was going to be the exception to this rule.
The nine men on horseback were past the marshal and his deputies and everybody had begun to breathe a little easier. The man who had challenged Hilton had reluctantly returned his gun to its holster and was just on the point of sitting back down again, when Tom Hilton whirled round in the saddle, pulling the carbine from its scabbard at the same time. Then, before anybody knew what he was about, Hilton raised the weapon and put a ball straight through the head of the man who had had the temerity to threaten him. Having accomplished this, he dug his spurs savagely into the flanks of the mare and sent her skittering perilously along the rock-strewn and uncertain path.
As soon as their leader had fired, the others knew it was life or death and that if they didn’t wish to catch a bullet in the back, then they had best dig up as fast as they were able. The whole body of riders went thundering along the track and it was a miracle that none of their mounts lost their footing. The two men they had left behind loosed off a half dozen shots at them, none of which hit anybody. There was no sign of pursuit. However angry those lawmen might have been, they weren’t about to face down men when the odds had just lengthened to better than four to one.
Meantime, a few miles away at the Catholic mission station, Talbot Rogers and young Melanie Barker were having an altogether more peaceful and agreeable time. Father O’Grady was a good host and after he had established to his own satisfaction that these two people were not up to any mischief and were in need of shelter and sustenance, he relaxed a little and plied them with the choicest vittles at his disposal. Truth to tell, it was only a haunch of cold ham with cornpone, but Talbot and the girl were ravenously hungry after their long day’s walk and they were glad of the food.