Crossed Arrows (A Long-Knives Western Book 1)

by Patrick E. Andrews

  The countryside sloped gently down from their viewing point to a place where the terrain once again flattened out into open prairie. A small settlement of a half dozen crude structures was situated a hundred yards from the officers’ position. The buildings were low affairs made of a combination of sod and boards. The arrangement of their locations showed that no particular pattern had been followed in laying out the place. A couple of abandoned soddies, appearing as if they had been melted by rain, stood off to one side.

  Ludlow lowered his glasses. “Not exactly a prosperous metropolis, sir.”

  “That place has to improve a lot even if they only wanted to catch up to the standards of our bivouac back at the agency,” Hawkins said in way of agreement. “This is what they call an outlaw’s hangout, young lieutenant.”

  “I wonder if it has a name, sir.”

  “Prob’ly,” Hawkins replied. “But it wouldn’t be more’n a simple reference.”

  “Look a bit to the left, sir. There appears to be an open-ended structure. I would hazard a guess that it is a blacksmith shop. The very place a fellow whose horse had thrown a shoe would go.”

  Hawkins took a look. “I’d say you were right, Mr. Dooley. And I’ll bet the bandit knew the blacksmith was there all the time.”

  “No doubt, sir,” Ludlow replied. He brought his field glasses back to his eyes and swung the instrument back and forth, looking at the terrain on the other side of the crude village. “I can’t see anything of Sergeant Eagle Heart or Red Moon.”

  Hawkins chuckled. “And you won’t, Mr. Dooley.” He had sent the two scouts around to make a reconnaissance of the outlying area. “When Indians get to sneaking, they turn invisible. I swear! It doesn’t matter if they’re hunting soldiers or buffalo. Hell, I saw an entire war party disappear right in front of my eyes on the Yuma River one time.”

  “It seems almost unbelievable,” Ludlow remarked.

  “I have an arrow scar on my shoulder to prove it,” Hawkins said. “When those Apaches came back in sight, they weren’t more’n ten yards away from us. Whites misjudge the Indian for a number of reasons. Mostly out of pure ignorance. In a lot of ways, they’re remarkable people.”

  “Over the eons, they have adapted well to their environment, sir.”

  “That’s another way to put it, Mr. Dooley,” Hawkins said, slipping his field glasses back into the leather case. “Let’s get back and meet Eagle Heart. We’ll compare notes and see what’s next on our agenda.”

  The two officers crawled backward a bit before standing up and walking to where their horses were hobbled. After mounting up, they rode to a ravine to join the rest of the detachment.

  Five minutes after Hawkins and Ludlow arrived, Eagle Heart and Red Moon cantered into the hiding spot. The sergeant made a brief report. “Nothing over there.”

  “That only leaves us one thing to do,” Hawkins said. “We’re gonna pay a visit to that place. Just as we determined, our boy is down there getting his horse reshod. We’ll find him and have a nice chat.”

  “We all go?” Sergeant Eagle Heart asked.

  “Sort of,” Hawkins replied. “Me and Mr. Dooley will go in together. I want Corporal Running Cougar and Red Moon to go to the other side of town. If you hear shooting, that means a fight has started. Don’t wait for anything. Come running and ready for war.”

  Corporal Running Cougar grinned. “We be there, Cap’n.”

  “Sergeant Eagle Heart,” Hawkins said. “You and Tall Bear and Swift Horse come in kind of slow behind me and Mr. Dooley. Once you’re inside the place, ride on up and join us.” He looked at Corporal Running Cougar. “When you see us all together, and there ain’t no trouble, you and Red Moon ease into town from your side.”

  “No wait for shooting?” the corporal asked.

  “No, but be ready for a fight,” Hawkins cautioned him. “You and Red Moon leave now. We’ll give you enough time to get over there.”

  The captain gave the two Indians fifteen minutes, then silently signaled the others to mount up and follow him and Ludlow. The group, with Sergeant Eagle Heart, Tall Bear and Swift Horse twenty yards or so to the rear, rode slowly and carefully toward the settlement. Hawkins went straight to the open-ended building. Just as Ludlow had surmised, it was a blacksmith’s shop.

  A burly man wearing a leather apron pounded on a red-hot horseshoe grasped in a pair of tongs. He was startled by their sudden appearance. He looked at the officers with arrogant curiosity as he noted their combination of civilian and military attire.

  The blacksmith spat. “Yeah?”

  “Not even a nice howdy do?” Hawkins asked with a friendly grin.

  The burly man started to speak but almost choked when the three scouts came around the corner of the building and halted.

  “What the hell’s this?”

  “Just paying you a visit,” Hawkins said. “And we want to talk to you about something.”

  “How come them Injuns is wearing soljer suits?” the black smith asked “I ain’t never seen no Injuns in soljer suits in my life. Now how come they’re duded up like that?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Hawkins said. “All you got to do is answer my questions.”

  “I’m busy,” the man said, going back to shaping the horseshoe.

  Hawkins came directly to the point. “We’re looking for the fellow who came needing his horse shod.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the blacksmith said. “Now—” His eyes widened as Running Cougar and Red Moon joined the group. “How many more of you is there?”

  “I got enough men,” Hawkins said. “Now answer my question.”

  The blacksmith looked at Ludlow. “Who’s Skinny here?”

  “You don’t want to know Dangerous Dooley,” Hawkins said. “He sorta gets excited in a quiet, deadly way.”

  “Like Doc Holiday?” the blacksmith asked. “I heard tell that skinny little feller used to go crazy without even changing the expression on his face.”

  “Dangerous Dooley is worse,” Hawkins said. “And I’m gonna ask you just one more time. Where’s the fellow who belongs to that horse that threw a shoe?”

  “He’s down there in the big long building.”

  “It’s a saloon, isn’t it?” Hawkins asked.

  “Yeah,” the blacksmith replied. He took another look at the Indians. “How’s come you want to talk to the feller?” He cast a nervous glance toward Ludlow. “But I reckon if it’s none of my business, you don’t have to tell me.”

  “I’m a recruiting officer,” Hawkins said. “I’m gonna try to get him to join the Army.”

  “Ol’ Jim Pate prob’ly ain’t real inclined to want to be in the Army,” the blacksmith said.

  “Well,” Hawkins said, still smiling. “We’ll talk to him anyhow. You never can tell.” Without waiting for further conversation, he pulled on the reins of his horse and headed for the saloon with Ludlow and the Indians closely following. “We picked up some valuable information aside from where that fellow is,” Hawkins remarked.

  “Yes, sir,” Ludlow agreed. “We learned his name is Jim Pate.”

  “I’m glad to see your ears are working, Mr. Dooley.”

  When they reached the saloon, Hawkins took a careful look around the area, then ordered everyone to dismount. After instructing Swift Horse and Red Moon to watch the horses, he then spoke to the entire detachment. “Open the flaps of your holsters. Now loosen your pistols. Draw ’em and ease ’em back into the leather. They won’t get stuck now if you have to use ’em.” He winked at his lieutenant. “You got that, Dangerous Dooley?”

  Ludlow grinned. “Yes, sir!”

  After his orders were followed, the captain walked up to the rickety door of the building and pushed it open. He stepped inside, taking enough steps to allow Ludlow, Sergeant Eagle Heart, Corporal Running Cougar and Tall Bear to join him.

  A half dozen men sat in the semi-darkness of the smoky room. A rickety bar, made of only planks laid across three ba
rrels, was set in front of an old book shelf holding liquor bottles. The man behind the bar wasn’t any more cordial than the blacksmith.

  “What the hell is this?”

  Hawkins drew his pistol. Ludlow stood in surprise for a moment. When he realized that the Indians also held their weapons, he pulled his own Colt from its holster.

  Hawkins bellowed, “Jim Pate!”

  “Me?” the man stupidly blurted out in surprise at hearing his name. He sat at a table with three other drinkers.

  Hawkins smiled. “How’re you doing, Jim?”

  “I don’t know you,” Pate said.

  “C’mon outside, Jim,” Hawkins invited.

  “The hell if I will!”

  Hawkins aimed his pistol at the man’s head, repeating, “C’mon outside, Jim.”

  Pate stood up. “You’re getting yourself into some real trouble here, mister.” He motioned to the others in the room. “These is all pals of mine. Likewise ever’body else around here.”

  “It must be nice to be so beloved,” Hawkins commented. “Now move to the door, Jim. I’d hate to see so many mourners having to go to one funeral.”

  Pate did as he was ordered. He opened the frail portal, then looked back. “There’s a surprise for you.”

  Hawkins walked up to the man and shoved him outside. He stepped into the fresh air and could see a dozen hardcases standing around with combined expressions of curiosity and hostility on their faces.

  “I told you I got friends hereabouts,” Pate said.

  Red Moon and Swift Horse, still holding onto the horses, had pulled their carbines from their saddle scabbards. The expressions on the two scouts’ faces displayed patient alertness.

  Hawkins glared at the spectators. “Go on about your business! Jim and us are going for a ride.”

  Ludlow, realizing fully that he was in a dangerous situation, felt cold fear. He nearly trembled as he grasped his pistol that wavered no matter how hard he tried to hold it still.

  “The rest of my pals has joined us,” Pate said. “Now I think if you do any riding, it’ll be without me. So get on out of here and forget you ever saw me.”

  “You’re coming with us,” Hawkins said. He raised his voice. “This man is under Fed’ral arrest for train robbery. Anybody that interferes with my duty is liable to be dragged in with him.”

  An angry murmur went through the crowed. The men inside the saloon had crowded to the door. Somebody shouted, “Don’t let ’em take Jim!”

  Ludlow gulped, feeling nervous sweat bead up on his gloved hands. He took a deep breath, but that seemed to increase the shaking in his knees. He glanced over to the edge of the crowd. A man, hidden from Hawkins’ view, stood with a pistol in his hand. He slowly raised it, the muzzle pointed directly at the captain.

  Ludlow quickly brought up his own weapon without thinking. His trigger finger tightened instinctively, and the Colt bucked hard in his hand. The man with the pistol twisted violently and made a gagging sound before falling to the ground. The crowd instinctively moved back.

  “Get the hell out of here!” Ludlow shrieked in a high-pitched voice. “I mean it! I mean it!”

  The mob’s collective eyes were wide-open with fear and anger. One of them said, “That skinny son of a bitch is crazy!”

  The blacksmith, standing in the back of the crowd, yelled, “Be careful, boys! That’s Dangerous Dooley! He’s worser than Doc Holiday!”

  “Go away!” Ludlow yelped at them. He wildly waved his pistol at them.

  “Godamn, Slim!” one of the onlookers yelled. “Take it easy!”

  The crowd moved back, fearful the young officer would fire again. While the mob cursed and milled about, Running Cougar knew exactly what had to be done. He quickly tied Pate’s wrists together. Sergeant Eagle Heart looped his rawhide lariat around the man’s neck.

  “Mount up!” Hawkins ordered.

  Ludlow struggled into his saddle. He looked down at the man he’d shot. Death was evident in the sprawl of the body and the emptiness in the open eyes. The young lieutenant suddenly realized he’d just killed a human being.

  “Oh, my dear God!”

  Hawkins pointed his pistol at the blacksmith and motioned him back toward his shop. “We’re gonna get Pate’s horse. Have you finished with him?”

  “Yes, sir,” the blacksmith said. “He’s ready to go.” He turned and hurried back to his establishment.

  The captain yelled at his men. “Move out!” He turned his eyes on the crowd, his voice loud and threatening. “Now I’m warning you son of a bitches, godamn it! Make one unfriendly move or just be too ugly to suit me, and we’ll blow holes through the bunch of you. Clear away!”

  The spectators looked at each other and stepped back a few paces.

  “I said clear away!” Hawkins bellowed. He fired a shot in the air.

  “Ease off, mister,” a man said. “We’re doing what you say. Don’t shoot nobody.” They all now moved away, leaving the body of the dead man still lying where he fell.

  “For’d, at a walk, yo!” Hawkins ordered.

  The detachment and their bound prisoner, led by the lariat around his neck, moved slowly and unmolested toward the blacksmith shop. The smithy stood in nervous anticipation in front of his place of business.

  “Get this fellow’s horse!” Hawkins said.

  “I already saddled him,” the blacksmith said. “I done it the minute y’all rode over here.”

  “You’re real smart,” Hawkins said.

  Corporal Running Cougar and Swift Horse dismounted to help the prisoner onto his horse. Then they leaped aboard their own.

  Hawkins looked at Jim Pate. “You best hope you can hang on. One slip and it’ll be like the gallows—broken neck and all.” He signaled to the detachment to follow him. They rode out of the settlement, heading for the open country. Jim Pate, as scared as a cornered rabbit, grasped the saddle as tightly as he could with his knees. Sergeant Eagle Heart amused himself with an occasional yank on the rawhide rope around the prisoner’s neck.

  Hawkins glanced back and could see they weren’t being followed. He noticed the paleness of Ludlow’s face. “How’re you doing, Mr. Dooley?”

  Ludlow suddenly leaned to one side and vomited.

  Chapter Twelve

  Hawkins led his detachment away from the outlaw settlement for almost an hour. At irregular intervals, he ordered Sergeant Eagle Heart to dispatch one of the scouts to ride back along their trail to see if they were being followed. All reports brought indicated there was no one interested in avenging the arrest of Jim Pate or the killing of the man in the crowd.

  Hawkins grinned at Pate. “It looks like you aren’t as well liked by your pards as you thought.”

  Pate sneered back. “You’ll find out soon enough. Don’t worry none about that.”

  “I can’t wait,” Hawkins said.

  As the ride continued, the captain took the opportunity to observe Lieutenant Dooley. Hawkins noted the young man rode in his usual awkward style, but he had a glazed look in his eyes. The veteran officer knew from his own experience what was wrong. He decided to try to keep Ludlow’s spirits up with a dash of his own version of humor.

  He called over with a grin. “Don’t fall off now, Mr. Dooley.”

  Instead of showing any appreciation at the attempt at joviality, Ludlow only nodded while riding on, somberly keeping to his proper place directly behind the detachment commander.

  Hawkins and his men rode west until they reached a point where they skirted a patch of woods. Now was they time to make absolutely certain they could continue their journey unmolested. As the unit got to the other side of the trees, the captain issued terse orders.

  “Sergeant Eagle Heart, pick two of the men and have ’em set up an ambush in those trees ‘til about sunset.”

  “Yes, Cap’n,” the sergeant said. “Tall Bear and Swift Horse, hide in trees. Watch trail and kill anybody you see. When sun turn red, follow after us.”

  Wordlessly, the two sc
outs pulled out of the small formation and cantered to the cover of the grove. The rest of the detachment, with the angry prisoner in tow, continued to a place where a series of deep gullies crisscrossed the countryside. Hawkins took his men straight to the slashes in the earth, leading them to the deepest area.

  “Detachment, halt!” he ordered. “Sergeant Eagle Heart, post a guard.”

  The sergeant sent Red Moon on the assignment, then dismounted. He still held the rawhide lariat looped around Pate’s neck. He yanked it hard and grinned.

  “This godamn Injun is choking me,” Pate complained to Hawkins.

  “He’ll be doing more’n that to you, if you don’t mind your manners,” Hawkins promised. He took another glance at Ludlow Dooley who was off to one side all by himself. The lieutenant looked on at the activities in a dull-eyed gaze without showing the slightest inclination of interest or a desire to participate.

  “How’re you doing, Mr. Dooley?”

  “Fine, sir,” Ludlow replied in a low voice.

  “We’ll talk later. Do you think that might be a good idea?”

  “Yes, sir. That’ll be fine, sir.”

  Hawkins took the lariat away from Sergeant Eagle Heart and led Pate to one side of the deep ravine. He undid the rawhide restraints around the prisoner’s wrists, and clapped a pair of government handcuffs on him. “Sit down, Pate.”

  “How about taking this damn thing off’n my neck?” Pate asked.

  Hawkins ignored the request. “I got some questions to ask you and I want quick and correct answers, understood?”

  Pate glowered at the captain.

  “Who was the leader of the gang that robbed the train?” Hawkins asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Where was the gang heading after pulling the job?” Hawkins inquired.

  “Gang? I don’t know nothing about no damn gang,” Pate said. “Now you lemme go, hear?”

  “We trailed you from the main group over to that settlement after your horse threw a shoe. So we know you belonged to ’em.”

  “I don’t know nothing about robbers or where they skedaddled off to.”