Crossed Arrows (A Long-Knives Western Book 1)

by Patrick E. Andrews

  The sound of the furious ride of dozens of men was thunderous in combination with pounding hooves, angry shouts and numerous shots being fired. The tumultuous clamor seemed to engulf Ludlow as his panic increased. He wished with all his might that Captain Mack Hawkins had accompanied him into town.

  Ludlow pressed on for another five terrifying minutes. Then the sound of new firing to his front—closer even than that of the men chasing him—gave the lieutenant the chilling realization he had ridden into a cleverly organized ambush. He knew his skinny body would soon be ripped to pieces by swarms of bullets flying in from every direction.

  Ludlow drew his pistol and urged the tired horse to greater speed. He decided to charge into the attackers ahead and take out as many of them as he could before he died.

  He had just started pull the trigger on his Colt when he spotted Swift Horse off to the side of the road. Corporal Running Cougar was situated opposite. Then Ludlow Dooley, happy as hell, understood what was happening. The firing ahead was coming from the scout detachment and it was not at him; it was at the mob closing in.

  Ludlow pulled the horse off the road and slipped from the saddle, throwing himself behind some brush. Without hesitating, he methodically pumped the trigger of the Colt as he aimed at the now thoroughly shocked and surprised gang of pursuers.

  “Wait’ll they’re within range, Mr. Dooley!” came a shout not far away. “They’re too far out for accurate pistol fire!”

  Ludlow glanced over and saw Captain Hawkins. He waved and yelled back, “Yes, sir!”

  The outgoing fire from the two officers and five scouts, highly accurate and rapid, wiped out the front rank of outlaw horsemen. A couple animals dropped while other riders spun in their saddles and fell to the ground. The outlaws directly behind them frantically pulled on their reins to avoid colliding with the casualties.

  Moments later, members of the gang farther back began taking hits from the army weapons. They vainly tried to return fire, but couldn’t find any targets. After a half dozen of their number were blasted from the back of their mounts, the pursuers made an impromptu, disorderly retreat.

  Within short moment the noise had died away and there was nothing on the road but dead men and horses. Hawkins stood up and emitted a loud whistle. “Let’s go, Sergeant Eagle Heart!”

  Eagle Heart, Tall Bear and Red Moon appeared from the firing sites some fifteen yards ahead. They looked with longing at the dead men sprawled across the rustic Texas roadway as thoughts of tribal war customs filled their minds.

  Hawkins knew what they were thinking, and he yelled, “Don’t scalp any of ’em! That’s definitely against army regulations.”

  Eagle Heart and the scouts grinned and hurried back to join the rest of the detachment. In spite of exposure to army discipline, the brave Indians still thought scalps made better trophies than the medals white soldiers pinned on their coats to commemorate courage in battle.

  The detachment mounted up and rode back to the bivouac where a very angry and tightly bound Elmer Wright waited for them within a grove of trees. He got a bit of rough treatment while Corporal Running Cougar and Swift Horse released him from his bonds.

  The two officers sat down so Ludlow could deliver his report to Captain Hawkins. “What happened in town, Mr. Dooley?”

  Ludlow, remembering Sally in the bar, hesitated, then said, “I met that fellow Bill Stucker and he didn’t seem to speak well of you, sir.”

  “So we know each other for sure, hey?”

  “He knew your first name, sir. In fact he made a remark about me looking army.”

  “He spent many years around military posts,” Hawkins said. “Is that what gave you away?”

  “No, sir. He was sitting at a table with some fellow who had been at the settlement where we arrested Jim Pate. He also recalled me shooting Jim Miller.”

  “Bad luck that,” Hawkins remarked.

  “Yes, sir,” Ludlow agreed. He grinned, saying, “He called me Dangerous Dooley and said I was a stone cold killer.”

  Hawkins chuckled. “You’ve got a hell of a reputation all right. Let’s see if you can start earning one as a tactician. What’s your opinion on the best way of attacking the town?”

  “Let me sketch a layout, sir,” Ludlow said, pulling a notebook and pencil out of his shirt pocket. “I made as keen an observation as I could under the circumstances. I believe I noticed enough to make an intelligent plan for laying siege to the place.”

  “Carry on, Mr. Dooley.”

  “The town isn’t like the other settlement,” Ludlow explained, beginning to sketch a map. “Everything is laid out on both sides of a single street. Actually, that makes mounting an attack on the place much easier, but there are numerous buildings.”

  “How many do you estimate there are?”

  “I would guess perhaps eight on each side for a total of sixteen,” Ludlow said. “I was surprised that they were made of lumber instead of logs or sod.”

  “Yeah,” Hawkins said. “That’s a sure sign that the place was established by decent people who expected a railroad to come through the place. When it didn’t, they pulled out to find more accommodating communities. That happens a lot when new towns were laid out. The outlaws took over as soon as the area emptied.”

  Ludlow finished the sketch and handed it to the captain. “I’ve labeled what sort of buildings there are as best as I could remember.”

  “Are there any two-storied or more?” Hawkins inquired.

  “Just one, sir; the saloon.” His face reddened when he recalled going up on the landing to Sally’s room. “Although it’s not particularly high, there is a steeple on top. I’m a bit confused about that. I’m sure the saloon doesn’t double as a church.”

  “The steeple was more’n likely put up there as a watch tower by the outlaws after they occupied the town,” Hawkins commented.

  “Yes, sir. It’s not very skillfully built. I’m sure it was constructed to keep an eye on the surrounding countryside.”

  “They’ll sure as hell have somebody up there after this latest episode,” Hawkins surmised. “That means we won’t be able to pull a sneak attack during the day or at night with a full moon like we’re cursed with right now.”

  “It would still be better than assaulting during daylight hours, sir.”

  “It would be suicidal just the same,” Hawkins said. “Let’s call Sergeant Eagle Heart in on this. I’m sure that when he was a boy he’d seen more than one town or settlement attacked by warriors from his tribe.”

  When summoned, Eagle Heart listened to the problem explained to him, then studied the layout that Ludlow had sketched. He had an immediate solution and did not hesitate to offer it.

  “We go before dawn when no sun,” he said. “Send Red Moon and Running Cougar to tall place on saloon. If somebody there, they kill. That way nobody to see us sneak up in moonlight. Then when sun come up we attack. Kill ever’body.”

  “I want prisoners, Sergeant Eagle Heart,” Hawkins said. “Especially Bill Stucker.”

  “We scouts know Bill Stucker,” Eagle Heart said. “He was agent long time before. No good sumbitch.”

  “Well!” Hawkins exclaimed with a laugh. “That’s something I didn’t consider. It looks like Stucker’s career as a post trader and Indian agent is going to prove his undoing.”

  Ludlow asked, “Then what is our plan of attack, sir?”

  “You just heard it from Sergeant Eagle Heart,” the captain said. “We’ll send Corporal Running Cougar and Red Moon into the settlement just before dawn. If they find any guards in that tower, they’ll take ’em out. When that job is finished, they can withdraw and rejoin us.”

  “Isn’t that risky, sir?”

  “For you or me or any other white man it would be,” Hawkins said. “But those two have been training to be warriors all through boyhood. Any plains Indian worth his salt can melt into the brush, the ground or even the darkness of night when he wants to.”

  Sergeant Eagle Heart nod
ded his agreement, saying, “I call detachment together now if you want, Cap’n.”

  “All right, Sergeant,” Hawkins said. “I’ll give everyone their assignments for tomorrow.”

  The scouts were quickly summoned and gathered around their captain. Hawkins’ first assignment was to Corporal Running Cougar and Red Moon. He explained they were to kill the guards in the tower. He used Ludlow’s sketch to show them the exact location.

  “It will be dark between the buildings, but you’ll be able to see anybody up there against the night sky,” Hawkins assured them.

  Neither scout showed any emotion about the dangerous assignment of sneaking into the town during darkness then quietly climbing to the roof of a two-story building to make silent kills of posted sentries.

  “We’ll launch a two-pronged attack from each end of town,” Hawkins instructed the others. “It will begin as soon as Corporal Running Cougar and Red Moon return to us. Lieutenant Dooley and Sergeant Eagle Heart will take the north end with Tall Bear and Swift Horse. I will come in from the south with Corporal Running Cougar and Red Moon. I want to drive the outlaws into the saloon which is located in the middle of town.”

  “Why is that, sir?” Ludlow asked.

  “Because it is a building you know well,” Hawkins replied. “You should already have an idea how they might defend it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Does anyone have any questions?” Hawkins inquired. “If not, let’s set up a guard roster and make sure that it isn’t us who gets attacked. We’d better eat and rest too. Tomorrow is gonna be one hell of a day.”

  “We catch rabbits with snare,” Red Moon said. “Get dry wood. Make fire no smoke.”

  “Good idea,” Hawkins said. “I could do with some fresh roasted meat. And don’t forget to give some to Wright.”

  The Indians withdrew to trap the game for supper. Hawkins winked at his lieutenant. “I smell liquor on your breath, Mr. Dooley.”

  “I had a couple of drinks,” Ludlow replied. “Rye whiskey as you suggested.”

  “Really cuts the dust, doesn’t it?”

  “I thought my throat had been seared shut.”

  “Your first drinks, correct, Mr. Dooley?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ludlow answered. Then he blurted, “I had my first woman too.”

  Hawkins was silent with an open mouth for a second. “What?”

  “I said I had my first woman too.”

  Hawkins frowned. “By God, Mr. Dooley, when I send you to town on a scouting mission that does not include permission to get drunk and bed women! I’ll have to put this in my official report. It will go all the way through channels to the War Department in Washington.”

  “Oh, please don’t, sir,” Ludlow begged. “My record at West Point was bad enough. If I begin my career—”

  Hawkins interrupted with almost uncontrollable laughter. “I was only joshing you, Mr. Dooley. You’ve got to develop a sense of humor if you’re going to get along in the Army.” He laughed some more before calming down. “Frankly, I’m glad to see that you managed to find time to lift a skirt during active campaigning. How did it come about?”

  “Well, sir, I was at the bar and had a drink. This woman named Sally came up and asked if I’d buy her one. I, of course, could not refuse a lady.”

  “Lady, huh?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ludlow said. “One thing led to another and before I realized what was happening, I was upstairs in this little room with her and she was taking off her clothes. Before another moment passed, she had my pants down.”

  “I can guess the rest,” Hawkins said. He leaned forward. “Now admit it, Mr. Dooley. Don’t you feel a hell of a lot better?”

  Ludlow grinned. “Yes, sir.”

  “And if you die tomorrow, you’ll end your life as a real man.”

  Ludlow’s elation quickly faded. “I’ll go to my death a sinner!”

  “You’ll go to your death a soldier, Mr. Dooley.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Captain Mack Hawkins had not exaggerated when he said Indian warriors could melt into the brush, the ground or the darkness of night. The detachment was at a jumping point just outside the town of Bitterwaters, and sunrise was a bit more than an hour away. At a nod from Hawkins, Corporal Running Cougar and Red Moon left the group to make their silent attack on the watch tower atop the saloon. As the others watched, the pair of scouts moved away without a sound. Within moments they were swallowed up by the predawn shadows, disappearing from sight as if vanished by the wave of a magic wand.

  “How much time shall we give them, sir?” Ludlow asked in a whisper.

  “Why are you whispering, Mr. Dooley?”

  “Watching Corporal Running Cougar and Red Moon made me feel as if the whole world had shut in on us.”

  “Indians’ talents in silence and stealth are something wondrous and fascinating to see when they’re on our side,” Mack Hawkins said. “On the other hand, when you’re on campaign and know that a war party has a particular interest in you, those deadly skills mean extreme danger. That’s why fighting against Indians made for numerous nerve-wracking incidents.”

  “I can well imagine, sir. But to get back to my question, please. How much time do we give them to take care of the watch tower? In other words, when do we launch our attack?”

  “When you, Sergeant Eagle Heart, Tall Bear and Swift Horse are in position. I don’t want you to move until you hear the first sounds of firing. You’re gonna have to be the ace up our sleeves. I hope to surprise the bastards by having you come in a few moments later from the opposite side of town. I want their first impression to be that our entire force is coming at them from one side only. When you and your men make an appearance, they might even think they are surrounded. That would work to our advantage. Understand?”

  “Perfectly, sir,” Ludlow said.

  “You have to remember that they have no idea how many of us there are,” Hawkins pointed out. “But don’t tarry. Remember there are only seven of us in total.”

  “Sir, I certainly haven’t forgotten that fact.”

  “You were in town, Mr. Dooley. How do you reckon the odds we face?”

  “Anywhere from three or four to one,” Ludlow answered.

  “That means we’re really outnumbered no matter what part of town we’re in,” Hawkins said. “You might say we’re outgunned, outnumbered and out of luck.”

  “But we’ll still attack; correct, sir?” Ludlow asked. “Even though we don’t seem to stand much of a chance.”

  “Oh, hell! Don’t be so godamned pessimistic. There’s always a chance.”

  “Sir, may I respectfully point out that General Custer had a chance too. As a matter of fact, that was all he and the Seventh Cavalry had.”

  “Let’s stick to the present, Mr. Dooley. Now gather up your three scouts and move to the north end of town. Stand fast until you hear us start firing.”

  While the two officers prepared for the coming battle; over in Bitterwaters, Corporal Running Cougar and Red Moon moved into the deep shadows between the buildings. By lying down on the ground and looking up into the lighter area of the sky, the scouts had been able to spot the tower. They had already decided that it would be the corporal’s kill. Running Cougar led the way to the base of the building. A quick check around a corner showed a ladder used to get on the roof.

  Running Cougar drew his knife and held it in his teeth while he removed his hat and pistol belt, handing them to Red Moon. Next he pulled off his boots and set them down next to the building. Then, ready for the silent, deadly deed, he ascended the ladder to the edge of the roof, and stopped to look and listen

  A slight sound of movement could be heard from the tower. Whoever was there had grown restless and tired from hours of peering out into the moonlit prairie. Running Cougar quietly pulled himself onto the roof and padded across it in his stocking feet. Only one guard occupied the position.

  The man in the tower, leaning against the sides of structure, absent
-mindedly stared up at the sky. A slight pinking in the east showed that dawn was drawing near, and he felt a sense of relief, knowing he would soon be relieved and could go down for a good snooze.

  The outlaw didn’t realize his next nap would be an eternal sleep.

  Running Cougar, no more than a shadow, glided up behind his prey. He put his hand over the man’s mouth and nose, striking simultaneously with his knife. The blade went in under the ribs for three quick, deep stabs. Then the scout drove it hard between the victims neck at the base of the skull as might be done when dispatching a wounded buffalo. Life passed from the outlaw’s body in a series of shudders before all movement ceased.

  Running Cougar lowered the dead man to the floor of the tower. Leaving the corpse, he flowed through the darkness across the roof to the ladder, going down to join Red Moon. The scout corporal quickly donned hat, pistol belt and boots. Gesturing for Red Moon to follow, he retraced their steps to the end of the building and turned south. It took no more than five minutes to reach the edge of town. Another few moments brought the pair to the cottonwood grove where Captain Mack Hawkins waited for them.

  “Nobody up there no more,” Corporal Running Cougar reported.

  “Well done, Corporal,” Hawkins said. “We’ll wait ‘til it’s a little bit lighter, then we’ll move into town.”

  Red Moon asked, “Ever’body in town bad feller?”

  “That’s right,” Hawkins responded. “Shoot any son of a bitch you see. Bitterwaters isn’t a nice place. But don’t count coup. That’s not the army way, and you’re in the Army now. You don’t get extra pay for slapping the enemy, understand? If the son of a bitch isn’t shot bad enough to be dead or quit fighting, then you haven’t accomplished a thing.”

  “Too bad,” Corporal Running Cougar said.