Rocky Mountain Warpath (A Crossed Arrows Western Book 1)

by Patrick E. Andrews

  Ludlow explained, “These fellows were just boys when their tribes were forced onto farms down in the Indian Territory. They eat food from the agency store and what they hunt in the countryside.”

  Leroux pulled a ball of some sort of food from his sack. “C’est pemmican. I never actual make, but it got dry meat and berries. Sometime nuts. Take a bite, Messieurs.”

  Each officer took a pinch and chewed it. Ludlow was pleasantly surprised. “This is delicious. And I would also assume alimentary.”

  “Is also good for you too,” Leroux added.

  Hawkins swallowed his portion. “I wish the Army issued this instead of salt pork.”

  Ludlow shook his head. “It’ll never happen, sir. It makes too much sense.”

  “Mes amis!” Leroux said, chewing his pemmican, “sometime you two say something I never gone understand.”

  “It’s mutual, Leroux,” Hawkins replied with a grin.

  It was deep dusk when Sergeant Eagle Heart organized the guard for the night. The extra warmth provided by the ponchos outside the blankets gave welcome comfort as the detachment settled down to sleep through a cold night. Leroux had no cover with him. He simply lay down on the grass and used his backpack as a pillow.

  The only wakeful people were the guards on duty and Hawkins. The captain had one thing on his mind during the mountain trek. He was trying to figure out the best tactics for fighting in a mountain forest with limited vision where closing with the enemy wasn’t a maneuver; it was unavoidable.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning, the detachment found the going much easier than the previous day. They were no longer short of breath, and the elevations they ascended were less steep. Even Tony the mule seemed energized as he moved along at such a fast pace that Tall Bear had to pull back hard on the picket rope now and then to keep him in check.

  After four hours of fairly easy walking, they reached a creek providing a narrow opening between the trees. George Leroux, at the head of the column, called a halt at the spot. Hawkins walked up to him. “How long are we staying here?”

  The guide shrugged. “I am no sure, Capitaine. I want take good look à peu près — around — at what we got in front of us. I be here before. There two ways for to go. One way is good. Other way no good. I look. I remember. You want wait here? I go more fast alone.”

  “Okay,” Hawkins said. “I guess if we all went with you it would slow things down considerably.”

  “Mais oui! Take much time all right. I move fast alone by myself. I be back maybe one hour. Maybe two hours”

  Hawkins looked over at Sergeant Eagle Heart. “We might as well fill our canteen and water bags while we wait for Leroux to come back.”

  Leroux hefted his Winchester, waded through the creek and disappeared into the forest on the other side. Hawkins and Ludlow walked over to a grove of ponderosa pines, settling down on the soft needles. The captain pulled out a cigar and lit it, exhaling slowly and thoughtfully. Ludlow could tell he had something on his mind. It was always best to keep quiet at times like this.

  A few moments passed before the captain spoke. “I got a question for you, Mr. Dooley. Did the tactical training you received at West Point deal with fighting in forests?”

  “No, sir. The only thing mentioned about such battles was when we studied the Revolutionary War. The British tried to fight the Americans European-style in open fields, but the patriots didn’t form up in ranks and files to accommodate them. Instead they hid behind natural cover and shot at the easy targets the redcoats unintentionally provided.”

  “I see,” Hawkins remarked pensively. “And the Americans won that war using that sneak-and-peak method?”

  “That’s what the history books tell us, sir, with some exceptions.”

  “But you didn’t study any battles where both sides used natural cover, right? So this means, we’ve got to come up with tactics to apply in a case like that. Which is exactly what we face on this present mission.”

  The conversation evolved into a complicated discussion with a lot of scratching of battle line diagrams in the dirt. It evolved into an hour of exchanging ideas on a tactical plan.

  The two main points they reached were firstly; that special precautions were needed to avoid being outflanked by an unseen enemy coming in from the side. And secondly; each man must always be in sight of those nearest him. This would help in maintaining command and control as a changing battle situation dictated.

  “These tactics will only work if we have a single skirmish line,” Ludlow pointed out. “There’s just seven of us, so we can’t form up in a deep defensive formation.”

  “Right,” Hawkins agreed. “We’re going to have set up a battle drill to train ourselves. It’s prob’ly be a good idea if we started before we left this area. “

  At that exact moment, the firing of numerous weapons suddenly exploded from the woods on the other side of the creek. Both officers were on their feet in an instant. They rushed to where the scouts were located, diving for cover at the base of the trees. Sergeant Eagle Heart quickly ordered his men to pull back from the creek and into the forest. Tall Bear had the presence of mind to lead the mule to safety.

  An instant later, the scouts blasted a volley under their sergeant’s command in the direction of the incoming fire, then immediately began looking for individual targets. Mack Hawkins was pleased to see the men had positioned themselves well. Swift Horse was on the far left of the line and Corporal Running Cougar on the right, each covering their fields of fire.

  Then, unexpectedly, the attackers ceased shooting. Ludlow Dooley, kneeling beside a tree, sighted a movement to his direct front. He pulled the trigger on his carbine and heard the rustling of someone moving away.

  Hawkins spoke to his second-in-command. “Sling your carbine and use your revolver. I’ll do the same.”

  The lieutenant wordlessly obeyed, knowing that their pistols would be more useful in the close-up combat. Fifteen minutes passed and the area remained quiet and ominous. Not a sound could be heard in the direction where the firing had been launched. The enemy was obviously not moving around.

  “Mexican standoff,” Hawkins muttered.

  The situation had remained quiet for several hours. The afternoon was darkening and that meant that neither the scouts nor the attackers would be able to fight effectively when the sun went down. The darkness and heavy forest would prevent moving around without making a lot of noise stumbling across brush and deadfall. More significantly, it would be near impossible to see anything.

  A short time later the trees blocked the sunset except for a dull glow between the leafy branches. In a matter of minutes the entire area was shrouded in deep darkness. Hawkins tightened up the skirmish line, issuing two final orders for that day. The first was a fifty percent alert, and the second was for each man on the flanks to face outward with a half-circle field of fire to cover front, side and rear.

  Sergeant Eagle Heart made sure everyone was awake at the first dim glimmering of the new day. No one thought of eating until the lack of activity across the creek cut down the tension.

  Hawkins and Ludlow shared a tree for cover. The captain waited a bit less than an hour before speaking. “We can’t sit here all goddam day. Those bastards could have pulled back.”

  “And what if they haven’t, sir?”

  “To hell with it! I’m going to go for a little reconnaissance with a couple of the men.” He called to Eagle Heart. “Sergeant! You and Corporal Cougar ease over here.”

  The two moved at a crouch and joined their commander. Eagle Heart knew his commanding officer well. “You want go out there, huh, Cap’n?”

  “Right. I’ll take the corporal and Swift Horse with me. Lieutenant Dooley will be in charge back here.”

  Swift Horse was summoned and Ludlow quickly organized Sergeant Eagle Heart, Tall Bear and Red Moon into a skirmish line at the tree edge. Hawkins, Running Cougar and Swift Horse stripped off their haversacks and canteens. The captain left h
is carbine with Ludlow, taking only his pistol.

  “Let’s go!”

  The trio walked rapidly out of the tree line and crossed the creek, disappearing into the woods. Ludlow nodded to Sergeant Eagle Heart. “If they come running back, be ready to give them covering fire.”

  “Yes, Lu’tent.”

  The apprehension was evident in the normally deadpan scouts. They gripped their carbines, ready to fire at an instant’s notice. A half hour passed, then Hawkins, Running Cougar and Swift Horse walked out of the forest and splashed across the creek to rejoin the detachment.

  Hawkins shook his head. “There’s not a soul out there. Running Cougar and Swift Horse checked the tracks on the ground and figured there weren’t very many of them. Maybe four to six at the most.”

  “It seemed like more than that,” Ludlow pointed out.

  “It’s apparent they weren’t using any smokeless sniper rifles. They were armed with repeating carbines.”

  “Any sign of Leroux?” Ludlow asked.

  “No. I think he prob’ly lit out for some deep cover when he heard the shooting. We’ll have to wait for him to get back. But not at this spot.”

  “Where are we going, sir?”

  “Not far,” Hawkins responded. “Just cross the creek. There’s some shallow gullies over there that’ll give us some good defensive positions. We’ll be able to settle down in a circular formation for all-around security.”

  “You don’t suppose they killed Leroux, do you?”

  “If they did, I don’t think they’d take his body with ’em.”

  While the two officers talked, Sergeant Eagle Heart prepared the men to cross the creek. Tall Bear tended to Tony the mule. The animal had been forced to bear the weight of the sawbuck saddle and packs all through the night.

  The elongated indentations in the ground offered excellent defensive positions. The attackers the day before had obviously used the terrain to their advantage. If the detachment had launched an impetuous attack, they would have been mowed down before reaching the tree line.

  Sergeant Eagle Heart deployed the scouts to the best sites, and now everyone could relax a bit except for Tall Bear and Swift Horse. The two scouts had to remove the load off the mule’s back.

  Hawkins and Ludlow set up a sort of headquarters in a concave groove in the ground. The brush around it gave them plenty of cover and the captain was certain nobody could see the position until they’d stumbled right up to it.

  Hawkins stretched out with his back against the earthen bank. He looked straight at Ludlow. “Report, Mr. Dooley.”

  “Sir?”

  “I said, ‘Report, Mr. Dooley.’ I want you to give me a verbal commentary on our situation as of this exact moment.”

  “Yes, sir!” The lieutenant gave the activities of the past couple of days a brief thought than began, “Sir, we are presently in a defensive position. We have no idea what our exact location is here in the mountains. We have an enemy who has attacked us, and we have no idea where they are or what they’re going to do or what they’re capable of doing or how many there are. We have a guide who is absent and could be dead. The United States Army also knows nothing about us and if we get into a nasty situation, there is absolutely no question of anybody being able to help us out in any manner whatsoever. End of report, sir.”

  “That’s the one thing I admire the most about you, Mr. Dooley. Your optimism.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  By the next morning it was painfully apparent that George Leroux was not going to rejoin the detachment. He was either dead or had decided to make tracks after hearing the short battle. The latter was probably the case, since the prospect of gun fights had not been completely explained to him.

  Hawkins mentally reviewed Ludlow’s oral situation report of the day before. Then, in the captain’s usual panache, he informed the detachment they were pressing on toward their objective of locating the snipers, and killing or capturing them. That was their assigned mission and they were obligated to continue the effort.

  “Mr. Dooley! Get out your compass.”

  “Yes, sir. I believe you’ll require us to travel on a northwest azimuth.”

  “Of course. That is the direction recommended to us by our erstwhile guide. Take the point, Lieutenant. Remember to halt now and then so we can scout the areas ahead to avoid blundering into nasty situations. I’ll send Red Moon with you for security while you lead the way.”

  They waited for Tall Bear and Swift Horse to reload the pack mule. When the task was finished, Hawkins offered Tall Bear the chance of passing off to the mule to somebody else. But the scout refused the offer with a vigorous shaking of his head.

  Hawkins grinned at him. “Are you getting to like Tony the mule, Tall Bear?”

  “No, Cap’n. If we use up rations, I gone eat this sumbitch.”

  “Save me a hunk, okay?” the captain chuckled. He turned and ordered the detachment to move out.

  Once more Ludlow Dooley’s task of heading on a specific compass reading was impossible. There were too many obstacles in the forest to be able to walk a straight line. Out on the prairie it was easy to pick landmarks in the distance, then head directly to them until taking another compass reading. As it was, Ludlow reckoned he was checking the heading a couple of times a minute.

  His companion Red Moon’s full attention was devoted to keeping a sharp lookout for sources of danger. The scout even scanned the trees overhead to make sure no one was hiding in the branches.

  However, there was more than maintaining a bearing on Ludlow’s mind that morning. He had a deep sincere respect for Hawkins. But he was also aware that his commanding officer could be impulsive at times. The lieutenant had heard about the time when Hawkins trailed some army deserters to a Texas town. His actions at arresting them resulted in the business section of the community being burned to the ground. The fire broke out when he started a brawl that resulted in a kerosene lantern being knocked to the floor of a local saloon.

  And during Ludlow’s first mission with the Kiowa-Comanche Scout Detachment, Hawkins ignored army regulations and protocol by willfully disobeying orders. But it all ended with a mission completed, though several other civilian communities were the worst for wear by the time it was over.

  Now they were blindly tramping through mountainous country toward an unknown objective that, when reached, could result in complete defeat or complete victory. Either way, the local people and environment would probably suffer appalling damage before all was said and done. Captain Mack Hawkins’ devotion to a mission’s completion was more important to him than time-honored and conventional performance of duties.

  “God help the Rocky Mountains,” Ludlow said under his breath. Then he stopped and consulted his compass again.

  The detachment was three hours into the day’s trek when Red Moon spotted the log hut in a clearing through the trees. Ludlow stopped and let the rest of the column catch up with him. When Hawkins joined him, Ludlow silently pointed to the crude structure.

  The captain nodded, then eased through some four-feet tall mountain brome bunchgrass to get a better view. He spent fifteen minutes studying the site, noting that there were only two men and a woman present. One of the men was sitting on a stool smoking a pipe while the other split kindling. The woman was skinning a rabbit near a tripod of limbs holding a pot over a fire.

  Hawkins hollered, “Hello, the cabin!”

  The three looked up in surprise, then their jaws opened when two army officers, five Indians in uniform and a mule emerged out of the tall grass and approached them. The man on the stool stood up, uncertainly but not fearfully.

  “Howdy,” he greeted the unexpected visitors.

  “Good day,” Hawkins said. “How’re you folks doing?”

  “Fine,” the man replied, waiting for further conversation to come from the stranger.

  The woman continued her chore with the rabbit, but kept her eyes on everyone. The man working with the hatchet, stopped his work an
d joined his friend.

  “We’re looking for a settlement in these parts,” Hawkins explained. “We had a guide with us for a while but he wandered off.” He offered his hand. “I’m Cap’n Hawkins of the Army.”

  The pipe-smoker shook with him. “Ezra Kuch. This is my missus and my brother Jesse.”

  Jesse looked at the Indians. “How’s come them Injuns is a-wearing soljer suits?”

  “Because they’re soldiers in the Army,” Ludlow butted in. “I’m Lieutenant Dooley.”

  “We heard some distant sounds of shooting the other day,” Ezra Kuch said. “It were real faint and come and went with changes in the breeze. Was that you fellers?”

  “Yeah,” Hawkins replied. “It was over some railroad trouble.”

  “Railroad?” Mrs. Kuch said, finally entering the conversation. “What railroad?”

  “There’s one going through the Haut-Prairie Gap,” Hawkins answered. Then he explained about the snipers and how he and his detachment were tracking the shooters to take them in for punishment. “We were doing pretty good until they jumped us. That’s when we lost our guide. His name was George Leroux. Do any of you know him?”

  “I do,” Ezra Kuch replied. “He was here day afore yesterday.”

  Hawkins and Ludlow exchanged glances.

  Jesse added, “And he had some fellers with him.”

  “How many?” Ludlow asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jesse replied. “Maybe a half dozen. Or ten or eight. I didn’t count ’em.”

  “Me either,” Ezra said. “They spent the night then walked off early the next day.”

  “They seemed in a hurry,” Mrs. Kuch added.

  Ludlow asked, “Leroux didn’t say where he and his friends was going, did he?”

  “Well,” Ezra Kuch said, “ I think George lives in a settlement north or west of here. I reckon him and his pals was going home. Where’d you fellers meet up with George?”