A hand fell on Costigan’s shoulder. “Corporal, kill that officer!” a major ordered. “What are you waiting for?”
Costigan lowered the telescope and turned his head. “They’re children,” he said. “An old man and children.”
“What?” The major snatched away the glass and looked through it. He handed it back a moment later and said, “I don’t care. They’re still Rebs. Now you kill that old bastard, or I’ll have you in front of a firing squad.”
Costigan swallowed hard. Then he lifted the sharpshooter’s rifle to his shoulder, settled the sights on his target…
And pulled the trigger.
The rattle of hoofbeats washed away the memories. He looked up and saw that Captain Stone, Sergeant Hutton, and the rest of the patrol had arrived on the scene of the massacre.
Stone signaled a halt. As the riders came to a stop and the dust began to settle, Sergeant Hutton looked at the bodies and muttered, “Good Lord.”
Without dismounting, Stone said, “I must admit, I’m surprised to see that you and your men are still alive, Mr. Bledsoe. It appears that you gave a good account of yourselves when the savages attacked.”
Costigan stood up from the tailgate and turned toward Stone. “A good account?” he repeated before Bledsoe could say anything. “Those are just kids!”
“And what do you think those kids would have done if they caught a white man alone out here?” Stone demanded.
Costigan’s mouth tightened. Much as he hated to admit it, the captain had a point. Chances were, in a situation like that, the hunting party would have taken a lone traveler prisoner, then tortured and killed him.
But that wasn’t what had happened. In this case, the young Pawnee hadn’t had a chance.
“They charged us,” Bledsoe said. “We acted in self-defense, Captain. Sure, it looks bad now, but we couldn’t tell at first that they weren’t full-grown warriors.”
Costigan glanced at McGinty. The shamed expression on the man’s bearded face told Costigan that Bledsoe was lying.
Maybe when the first shots rang out, the hunters really hadn’t realized how old the Indians were. But they had figured it out pretty quickly and kept firing anyway. On edge already because of the way the Indians had been hanging around the area for the past couple of days, once the men started pulling the triggers, they hadn’t been able to stop.
Costigan understood what had happened and why it had happened. He wanted to think that if he’d been here, things would have been different.
But remembering that day in the wheat field, in the closing weeks of the war when the Confederacy was down to old men and boys to fight its battles, he couldn’t be sure he would have stopped this massacre. He just couldn’t.
“What are you going to do about this, Captain?” Bledsoe went on.
Stone shook his head. “There doesn’t appear to be anything to do. You’ve already handled the situation.” He paused. “To be honest, I’m surprised that a band such as this caused so much of an uproar from one end of the state to the other. How in the world did they ever manage to stop a train?”
The sergeant scratched his grizzled jaw and said, “Maybe this ain’t them, Cap’n.”
Stone turned to him with a frown. “What do you mean, Sergeant?”
“Maybe this is just part of the bunch,” Hutton said. “That chief, Spotted Dog, could’ve sent these boys out to do a little huntin’. The rest of the renegades could be somewhere else around here.”
The same thought had occurred to Costigan. The group of riders he had seen in the distance the day before had been considerably larger than this little hunting party.
“Do you think so?” Stone asked with sudden eagerness. “Then perhaps we could follow their trail and locate the other hostiles that way.”
Bledsoe spoke up again, saying, “The one who took off left a good trail, that’s for sure.”
Costigan’s head jerked toward the man. “What do you mean, Colonel, by ‘the one who took off’?”
“The savage that got away, of course,” Bledsoe said. “I think he was wounded, but he managed to stay on his pony. He turned the animal around and galloped off when it became obvious we were about to wipe out the rest of his fellows.”
Costigan and Hutton looked at each other. Costigan could tell by the look in the sergeant’s eyes that Hutton understood how bad this was.
“Colonel,” Costigan said, “you’d better turn these wagons around and hightail it out of here.”
“What? But the wagons are empty and the buffalo are right there!”
“I don’t care. Unless I miss my guess, all hell’s about to come rainin’ down on you.”
“Sergeant, what’s this man talking about?” Stone asked.
“Well, Cap’n…that wounded boy who got away, he’s gonna head back to the rest of the bunch and tell Spotted Dog what happened here,” Hutton explained. “And then Spotted Dog and the rest of his warriors…they’re gonna come lookin’ for blood.”
Chapter 14
Hutton’s words of warning just seemed to excite Stone more.
“Then we won’t have to search as hard for the hostiles,” he said. “They’ll be coming to us.”
“Cap’n—”
“This is actually a stroke of luck,” Stone went on, ignoring the sergeant. He turned to Bledsoe. “Show me which way the surviving Indian fled.”
Bledsoe at least had the good sense to look worried as he pointed and said, “The redskin took off almost due west.”
“Then that’s the way we’ll go. Under the circumstances, it’s unlikely he tried to leave any sort of false trail. Wounded as he was, the savage no doubt took the most direct path back to the remainder of the war party.”
Costigan was starting to have some doubts, even if Stone wasn’t. What sort of war party took along a bunch of boys like this? Did they have women with them as well as children?
Maybe Spotted Dog hadn’t set out to make war at all. Maybe he just wanted to lead his people off the reservation in a last attempt to live the way they always had before the white men came.
Costigan didn’t know, and it didn’t really matter, he told himself. Once Spotted Dog heard about the slaughter that had happened here, he and his warriors would be painting themselves for war.
The blood of those young men would cry out for vengeance.
As the cavalry patrol was preparing to move out again, Bledsoe turned to his drivers and ordered, “Get those wagons turned around. We’ll go back to the main camp for now, until the threat’s over.”
“That’s not going to do you any good,” Costigan said. “If the Pawnee come after us, we’re liable to be outnumbered two or three to one, maybe more. The camp’s out in the open and can’t be defended against odds like that. They’ll overrun us for sure.”
“Well, then, what do you want us to do, Costigan?” Tolbert asked harshly. “Just sit here and wait for the damned savages to wipe us out?”
Costigan shook his head. “We need a place to hole up for a while. A settlement, maybe.”
Browne said, “Dodge City’s a long way off, and we can’t move all that fast with those wagons.”
“Maybe we ought to leave the wagons,” McGinty suggested. “We could unhitch the teams, and the drivers and skinners could ride those horses.”
Bledsoe shook his head. “I’m not leaving my wagons. They cost too much for that. And by God, there’s a small fortune in hides at the main camp! Are you saying we should just abandon them, Costigan?”
“The Indians won’t care about those hides,” Costigan said. “We can go back and get them later.”
“Some other hunting party could come along and steal them!”
Costigan shrugged. “What’s more important to you, Colonel? The hides or your life?”
Bledsoe didn’t answer immediately. He had to think about the question first.
Captain Stone had ordered his men to dismount and take a few minutes to rest their horses before they moved out again. That r
espite was over now. As Sergeant Hutton bellowed orders, the troopers began to swing back up into their saddles.
Bledsoe said, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to head for somewhere safer for a few days. It won’t take long for Captain Stone and his men to deal with this threat.”
Costigan agreed with the first part of that statement but not the second. The cavalry patrol, like the hunting party, numbered a couple of dozen men.
They might have superior firepower, but that probably wouldn’t be enough to offset the odds against them.
Hutton knew that, too. Costigan saw the fatalistic look in the sergeant’s eyes. Stone was bound and determined to lead them right into trouble, and there was nothing Hutton could do to change his mind.
Glory hunters, Costigan thought. Most of the time, all they did was get good men killed.
Raising dust again, the patrol galloped off to the west. As the soldiers dwindled from sight, Bledsoe’s drivers turned the wagons around so they pointed east. The colonel stubbornly refused to leave them behind, even though they would slow the party down.
While they were doing that, Bledsoe delved into the saddlebags on his mount and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“What’s that?” Costigan asked.
“A map. I commanded a regiment, you know. I believe in being prepared.”
Now that he was doing something, some of Bledsoe’s natural arrogance came back to him. It was easier to push aside the fear when you were busy, Costigan supposed.
Bledsoe spread the map out on the lowered tailgate where Costigan had been sitting earlier. He leaned over it and frowned as he studied it. Several of the hunters crowded around him.
“Where do you reckon we should go, Colonel?” Tolbert asked.
Bledsoe pointed to a spot on the map. “As near as I can figure, this is about where we are now.” He traced a line to the east. “That’s our main camp.” His finger moved off to the northeast. “And Dodge is that way.”
“Then there’s not really anything closer than Dodge,” Browne said.
Costigan leaned in to look at the map. He said, “Yes, there is. It’s not much closer, but half a day might make a difference.”
“What are you talking about?” Bledsoe asked.
“When we get to the main camp, if we keep going due east instead of angling to the north, we can make it to that little settlement right there”—Costigan’s finger rested on a dot on the map—“faster than we can get to Dodge City.”
Bledsoe grunted. “I think you’re right, Costigan. I never heard of the place, but its name sounds promising…Redemption.”
The night had passed quietly, and Bill was grateful for that. He hadn’t slept much, but despite his weariness he was able to return the smiles and nods the townspeople gave him as he walked toward the marshal’s office.
Folks were making an effort to go on about their business normally, but when Bill looked close, he saw the fear in their eyes. He saw the worried glances they cast over their shoulders at every little sound.
Everybody was keyed up, waiting for warning shots from the guards, or worse yet, war whoops from a band of bloodthirsty painted savages.
As Bill stepped into the office, he smelled coffee. That was one of the advantages of having a deputy, he thought. Mordecai Flint must have put the pot on to boil.
The office was unlocked and empty. Bill didn’t know where Flint was. Out looking around town, more than likely.
The old-timer had volunteered to stay in the office overnight, and Bill had accepted the offer. He wanted to be with Eden as much as he could during this time of trouble, although he wouldn’t neglect his duties to do so.
The coffee smelled like it was ready, so he got one of the tin cups and filled it. The first sip of the hot brew made his eyes open wider. Flint had made the coffee strong enough to get up and walk around on its own two feet.
A step in the doorway made Bill look around. Aaron Wetherby stood there looking tired.
“The next shift of outriders just took over, Marshal,” the young man reported. “I’m gonna go get some shut-eye.”
“Thanks, Aaron. Any problems?”
Aaron shook his head. “It was mighty quiet and peaceful out there last night. Marshal…what if that cavalry captain had it wrong? What if there aren’t any Pawnee on the warpath?”
“I reckon I’d rather get ready for trouble and not have it show up than the other way around.” Bill nodded toward the potbellied stove in the corner. “Want some coffee?”
“No, thanks. Like I said, I’m gonna go get some sleep. I’ll be ready to take my turn again tonight.”
“Obliged,” Bill said with a nod.
He needed to round up some more volunteers today, he thought after Aaron left. Otherwise the men he had assigned to guard duty were going to get mighty tired. And a worn-out man wasn’t nearly as alert as one who had gotten enough rest.
He ought to take his own advice, he thought as he sat down at the desk. He had tossed and turned most of the night, not only keeping himself awake but Eden, too.
Flint came in a few minutes later. Despite being up all night, the old-timer appeared to be wide-awake.
“I done mornin’ rounds for you, Marshal,” he said. “This place is plumb peaceful. If it wasn’t for worryin’ about Injuns, there wouldn’t be a damned thing goin’ on.”
Bill smiled. “That’s the way I like it.”
“Not me. I like a town with some hoopla, like Abilene in the old days, or San Francisco.”
“Those Pawnee show up, you’ll get your hoopla.”
Flint headed for the coffee. “Yeah, that makes it kinda hard to know what to hope for, don’t it?”
“If you want to get some breakfast and then turn in for a while, that’ll be fine. The Nilssons’ café has the best food in town.”
“Naw, I’m fine,” Flint said. “I’ll catch a catnap later. I never sleep more’n a couple hours a day. When you get old, you start to realize you only got so many hours left, and I never was one to waste ’em sleepin’.”
Bill sipped his coffee and thought about that. Flint might be right that people became more aware of the sand running through the hourglass when they got older…but it was falling all the time, right from the moment a fella drew his first breath.
One day closer to the grave. That’s what the sun coming up every morning really meant.
He shoved those dark musings out of his head. There were more pressing concerns at the moment. He stood up and said, “If you don’t mind staying here for a while longer, Mr. Flint, I’ll go see if I can find some more volunteers for guard duty.”
“Sure, I’m fine. And you can call me Mordecai.”
Bill shook his head. “I was raised to respect my elders. And I reckon you’re old enough to be my grandpaw.” He smiled as he headed for the door. “Maybe my great-grandpaw.”
“At least I ain’t a wet-behind-the-ears kid!” Flint called after him as he left the office.
Bill walked over to the mercantile. Eden, her father, and Benjy Cobb were all there already. Eden and Perry Monroe were helping customers while Cobb unloaded airtights from a crate and stacked the canned peaches and tomatoes on a shelf.
Half a dozen customers were lined up at the counter. Bill had expected to see even more people stocking up on supplies. He supposed the townspeople had listened to what he said the day before about not starting a rush for the goods on the shelves of Redemption’s stores.
There would be enough of everything to go around and to last until the trouble was over…if they were lucky.
“Busy morning?” Bill asked his father-in-law between customers several minutes later.
Monroe grunted. “Steady, real steady. If it keeps up, you may have to put on an apron again, Bill.”
“Not hardly,” Bill replied with a grin. During his recuperation after the injury to his leg, he had helped out in the store as soon as he was on his feet again, as a way to pay back Eden and her father for what they had done for him,
but that was enough clerking to last him the rest of his life. “I’ve got another job now.”
“I was just joshing,” Monroe said. “Anything I can help you with today?”
“I need some more volunteers to stand guard. Don’t reckon you have any on the shelves.”
Monroe shook his head. “No, but if I talk to anybody who might be interested, I’ll send ’em your way.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Much obliged.”
He stepped over to Eden and was about to hug her and give her a quick kiss on the cheek, but she was waiting on a customer and the glance she sent his way told him to back off and not bother her while she was working.
Discretion being the better part of valor, according to the old saying, Bill just smiled and said, “I’ll see you later.”
Eden flashed him a smile in return. That would do for now, Bill thought as he left the mercantile.
His next stop was the livery stable, where Josiah Hartnett greeted him and said, “Sign me up for guard duty tonight, Bill. I’m too heavy to make much of a fast rider, but I’ve got good eyes and ears and I can sit on a rooftop.”
“Thanks,” Bill said. “I was hopin’ more folks would step up today. Would you rather take the first or second shift?”
“First, I think. That’ll let me sleep a little before I have to keep the stable open again tomorrow.”
Bill nodded. “Come on over to the marshal’s office after supper. I’ll have it figured out by then where we need you.”
Leo Kellogg and Charley Hobbs made the same offer when Bill stopped by their places later, and he wondered if the members of the council had gotten together and decided it would be good for the town’s morale if they volunteered.
Or maybe they had come to that decision on their own. Bill didn’t know and it didn’t really matter. He was just glad for the extra help.
During the day, several more men came by the marshal’s office or stopped him on the street to tell him they wanted to help. Bill thanked them all and promised that their efforts would be put to good use.
Given enough time, most people would do the right thing, he told himself. Sometimes they just had to talk themselves into it.
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