Bodine moved to the stone fence and squatted down, looking at the town, now totally consumed in flames. No live Indians in sight, but Bodine knew Lone Dog had them surrounded; surrounded and outnumbered. Using the billowing smoke, the Indians would be moving closer and closer to the buildings on the hill. The charge could come at any time.
Lone Dog would have suspected a rider had been sent to the fort, and he would know within an hour’s accuracy how long it would take Travers to reach the town. There was no way the relief column could arrive before nine or ten o’clock that night, and Travers would be rightly hesitant about launching any attack at night. The people on the hill would have to hold out this day and through the coming night.
Staying low to present a smaller target to the hidden Indians stationed on the hills around the complex, Bodine made a slow circle of the makeshift fort.
Only about thirty or so people had made it out of Cutter alive.
“Twenty-two men and ten women,” Gerry told him “I figure they took about seventy percent casualties. But the men came out heavily armed and with plenty of ammunition. They brought some food and water and medical supplies with them. We’re in pretty good shape.” He consulted his pocket watch. “Colonel Travers should have two hours’ march behind him by now.”
“Peterson just died, Lieutenant,” McGuire said, walking up. “Shot through the lungs.”
“How are the wounded?”
“Mackey is not going to make it. The rest did not suffer serious wounds. They’re being patched up and will be back on duty.”
“Lieutenant!” the sentry on top of a building called. “Here they come!”
Chapter 23
Lone Dog and his braves spent the next hour taunting the men and women on the hill. The Indians would ride to just outside rifle range and yell and scream at the besieged band behind the low stone walls.
But Bodine quickly picked up on what Lone Dog was doing. He pulled Gerry and Sergeant McGuire to one side. “Lone Dog wants all our attention focused in one direction, Gerry. Switch some men around to cover the other directions and tell them to be alert for infiltrators. I’m thinking there’ll be a rush in a few minutes. Tell your men to hold their fire and let them bunch up.”
McGuire nodded and moved away, beginning the shifting of his troopers.
“God, if we only had some artillery.” Gerry did some wishful thinking.
“We can make it,” Bodine said, as Tom Thomas walked up. “We’re just going to have to be on our toes at all times.” He looked at Thomas. “Where is that rag-tag so-called army of yours, Thomas?”
“I don’t know,” the man replied tightly, his hatred for Bodine scarcely concealed behind the words.
“More Indians joining the group, Lieutenant!” the rooftop sentry called, looking through field glasses. “And they’re dressed . . . odd.”
Gerry uncased his binoculars and took a look, a grim expression altering his face. He handed the field glasses to Bodine.
“Walker’s Militia is no more, Thomas,” Bodine said, after quickly looking through the long lenses. He handed the glasses to Thomas. “Take a look at those shirts the braves are wearing.”
Thomas looked and cursed. Many of the bucks were wearing brown shirts, and fresh scalps adorned the manes of their ponies and reins and rifle barrels. Thomas slowly lowered the glasses. He had seen the destruction of his town, and now it seemed his army had been wiped out. The man seemed to age before their eyes.
“You son of a bitch!” The female voice sprang at them from behind. They turned, looking at Terri Kelly.
“Now, Terri . . .” Thomas spoke.
“Oh, shut up, you windbag!” she spat at him, just as Sergeant McGuire walked up. Then Terri cut loose with a stream of profanity that would have shocked any saloon operator on the Barbary Coast. She traced Thomas’s ancestry back to where he was sitting in a tree, scratching himself and picking fleas off his brothers and sisters.
“My word!” Lieutenant Gerry said, shock and awe in his voice.
“I told you this scam wouldn’t work, you big ox,” she yelled at him.
“Terri, shut your mouth!” Thomas shouted, regaining some of his composure.
“No way, buffalo-butt!” she squalled at him. “I’m not going to die with this on my conscience.”
Thomas lifted a hand to hit her and Bodine blocked the blow and busted Thomas in the mouth with a hard right fist, knocking the man down. He looked at Terri. “What’s on your conscience, Terri?”
“Keep your damn mouth shut, you slut!” Thomas struggled to get to his boots.
Bodine kept him on the ground with a boot in the man’s belly. Thomas groaned and twisted on the cold earth.
Sergeant McGuire motioned for several troopers to come over. He pointed to Tom Thomas and they nodded heads, standing close to the man.
“It was Walker’s army who attacked and killed the people at the settlement where I was teaching,” Terri said.
Thomas called her a very ugly name.
“Women prisoners were taken. I guess they were raped and then killed by the men in Walker’s army.”
“Disgusting!” Lieutenant Gerry said. “Why was the settlement attacked?”
“You see, for a time, Walker and his men had been working with Lone Dog. Lone Dog and Thomas had a deal going. Thomas would give him guns in return for being left alone. But Thomas tried to cheat Lone Dog. The raid was done to make it appear Lone Dog did it so the Army would hunt him down.”
Thomas cussed her, low and long.
“Lone Dog said he would kill Thomas and destroy Cutter. But Tom never thought he would really do it. Guess he was wrong, huh?”
“Place this . . . creature under arrest, Sergeant McGuire,” Gerry said, pointing at Tom Thomas. “And Miss Kelly as well. Tie them securely and place them in that shed over there.”
Whacker Corrigan and Stutterin’ Smith had stood by silently, listening to the story. Corrigan’s sigh was audible. “You tell them the truth about me, Thomas,” the huge man said. “Or I’ll stomp you to death before the Army can do anything about it.”
Thomas nodded his head. “Corrigan and Smith and the others had nothing to do with my arrangement with Walker or Lone Dog. They’re clear.”
Corrigan met Bodine’s eyes. “If I had known about Thomas’s involvement with Lone Dog, I would have killed him myself.”
Stutterin’ said, “I hire my g . . . g . . . gun, Bodine. I don’t believe in rapin’ w . . . w . . . women and killin’ k . . . k . . . kids.”
Bodine nodded at the men; he knew that many gunfighters operated under an odd but very strict code of honor.
“Lone Dog’s ridin’ up, Lieutenant,” a sentry called. “He’s comin’ under a white flag.”
“Hold your fire!” Gerry shouted. “We’ll honor the truce flag.”
“I’ll walk out with you,” Bodine said. “Lone Dog’s English is not good.”
Bodine and Gerry walked out to meet with Lone Dog on the slope.
“Bo-dine,” Lone Dog said. “Give me Tom Thomas and the woman and you all may leave.”
“I wish I could, Lone Dog. They deserve no better. But they are prisoners of the Army. I can promise you that they both will be tried and probably hanged for what they’ve done.”
Lone Dog’s smile was a grim baring of the teeth “If you do not give them to me now, you will all die with them, Bodine.”
“Give it up, Lone Dog. You can’t overrun us on the hill. All you will succeed in doing is losing a lot of warriors.”
“I could kill you both now.”
“Then that would mean you have no honor. Your wife would throw your belongings from the tipi, you would never see your children again, and you would be forever banished from the tribe. They would tell stories around the fire about what a coward you are. You would be known forever and ever as Cowardly Dog, The Man Who Could Not Be Trusted To Keep His Word.”
That stung Lone Dog, for he knew the truth in Bodine’s statement. “I did
not say I was going to do that, Bo-dine. Only that I could.”
“We will not hand the prisoners over to you, Lone Dog. That is my final word”
“Then return in safety to your fort, Bo-dine. And sing your death songs. I will personally hang your scalp on my rifle.” Lone Dog swung his pony and rode down the hill.
“Let’s get back up the hill before he changes his mind,” Bodine said. “They’ll be hitting us in a few minutes.”
Bodine and Gerry just made the safety of the stone buildings before the Indians opened fire, the slugs sending everyone diving for whatever cover they could find. The Indians kept up the fire all that day. Obviously, as Bodine pointed out to Gerry, Lone Dog and his braves had taken a lot of ammunition from the dead men who had made up WaIker’s Militia. And this fight was worth the expelling of it, for if Lone Dog were victorious, it would mean he would be a great chief and a wise and very courageous leader in battle. And his medicine would be good so many more braves would join him.
Two of Gerry’s troopers were downed by the gunfire from the hills and ridges, with one of them dying. One civilian was wounded, another killed during the long day.
And Bodine knew that Lone Dog’s braves were inching closer and closer to the complex on the hill. They would probably attack from the west side just as the sun was going down, leaving the defenders on the west side nearly blind.
The town of Cutter was completely gone; not even a privy had escaped the raging flames, and only a few wisps of smoke drifted into the air, to mark the end of Tom Thomas’s evil scheming.
Then the chanting began, wafting to the ears of the defenders on the cold hill.
“What are they doing?” Corrigan asked Bodine.
“Preparing themselves for a great battle. Asking for courage in the upcoming fight and for the strength to die well.”
“Then they’re about to attack.”
“It won’t be long. They’ll be sending in fire arrows first, to demoralize us. Or try to. Lone Dog knows these stone buildings won’t burn. But his thinking is that they might get lucky and set some of us on fire. Maybe kill some horses.”
“Charming fellow,” Corrigan said.
“What are your plans when this is over?” Bodine asked.
“You mean if we live through it?”
“We’ll live through it.”
“I like this country, Bodine. I think I’ll stay. Hell, I might even try to farm.” His laughter was genuine. “I don’t know nothing about it, but I can learn. It’s not like New York City. Man, this air is so clear and fresh out here!”
“No more shoulder-striking?”
“Who am I going to strike, a buffalo?” Again, the big man laughed and Bodine smiled with him. “No, Bodine. I’m tired of all that. I’m tired of the stink of saloons and of the smell of crooked men. I want to put all that behind me and start over. I just want to live and let live and be a good neighbor. Actually, I came out here to do that. But I let that slick-talking snake Thomas talk me into joining him. We all make mistakes.”
Bodine stuck out his hand and the man shook it. “Welcome to the frontier, Corrigan.”
A bullet sent them both diving to the ground, bringing this comment from Corrigan: “It would seem that not everyone is as happy to see me as you, Bodine.”
* * *
Lone Dog’s braves came just as Bodine had predicted, the main thrust coming out of the sun on the west side, and they came in a silent, deadly rush.
Bodine and Corrigan and Stutterin’ Smith joined the defenders on the west side of the complex and managed to beat back the first wave. But Bodine knew that many Indians still lay hidden near the stone fence. They would wait until dark and try again.
Stutterin’ looked at Bodine in the gloom of cold night. “I ain’t g . . . g . . . got nothin’ personal agin you, B . . . B . . . Bodine. I just think I’m b . . . b . . . better than you. So when this is all over, I’m gonna b . . . b . . . beat you.”
“There’s no point to it, Smith.”
“There really never is, B . . . B . . . Bodine.” The gunfighter turned and walked away.
“Keep a sharp eye out, men.” Bodine heard the lieutenant’s voice. “What was that all about, Bodine?” Gerry asked, stepping out of the darkness.
“Professional pride, I suppose,” Bodine told him. “Utah Jack Noyes was supposed to be one of the best around.”
An agonizing cry split the darkness. “They’re in the compound!” the call went up.
The trooper standing next to Gerry went down with an arrow through his neck, to die on the cold ground, choking his life away.
Bodine felt a buckskin-clad arm around his neck and the prick of a knife blade at his side just as he turned and twisted, using brute strength to toss the brave to the ground. Bodine leveled his Winchester and shot the buck in the chest. He brought the butt of the rifle straight back and into the belly of an Indian, then turned and clubbed the warrior on the side of the head with the stock.
Bodine did not have time to check how badly he had hurt the warrior, for the compound had suddenly filled with Lone Dog’s men.
Bodine lifted his rifle and began shooting. He really did not have to aim, for Indians were pouring over the stone fences in human waves.
“Into the buildings!” Lieutenant Gerry’s cry was just heard over the crash of guns and the screaming of the hostiles and the cries for help from the wounded.
Bodine took a war club against his head, knocking him sprawling. He rolled and managed to knock down an Indian who was grappling with a civilian from the town. Bodine stuck his rifle barrel into the brave’s face and pulled the trigger, the slug tearing away part of the man’s jaw. The civilian helped Bodine to his feet and the two of them stumbled toward the stables, figuring that the buildings would soon be filled to overflowing.
As they raced for the dubious safety of the stables, the civilian gave a small cry and collapsed, falling to the ground on his side, a bullet hole in the center of his back and another in his chest where the bullet had exited. It took only one look for Bodine to see that the man was dead.
Bodine reached the stables in time to see an Indian trying to lead away a few horses. Bodine shot the buck and re-stabled the horses, almost stumbling over the body of a young trooper who had been assigned to guard the huge old barn.
“Bodine?” a man called.
Bodine recognized the voice as belonging to Sergeant McGuire. “Mac. You all right?”
“Got a crease on my noggin from a bullet. It’s nothing. You?”
“Knot on my head.”
“I’ve got four men at the far end of the barn. Let’s you and me climb up into the loft and take the other end.”
“Sounds good. Did Gerry make it?”
“I think so. But I saw him take a bullet in his arm.”
“Going to be a long night, Mac,” Bodine said, after climbing up into the loft and taking a position just inside the second floor hay door.
“Long it may be,” the man replied. “I just hope we make it through it.”
Chapter 24
Long before midnight struck its toll, the fight had turned into a stand-off.
Lone Dog’s warriors could not breach the stone buildings and the men and women inside the buildings could not drive the Indians off the hilltop. Lone Dog’s braves had taken cover behind the stone fence and the battle had now been reduced to a few sporadic shots from either side. Just enough to keep both sides on edge and allowing no sleep.
“What’s the time, Bodine?” Mac whispered.
“My watch got busted. I figure it’s close to midnight.”
“The relief column should be out there close. If the riders made it,” he added.
“Travers won’t want to lead a charge at night. I’ll expect them at first light. Right now I’d give a double eagle for a hot cup of coffee.”
“I try not to think about that. Damn, but it’s getting cold!”
A bullet that came singing its deadly tune out of the night and whined
close to his head moved the sergeant around some and increased his circulation. It also produced some pretty fancy cussing from the man.
Bodine smiled. “Did that warm you up some, Mac?”
“That it did, lad. That it did.” The man cut his eyes to the hills behind those that had been occupied by Lone Dog’s braves. “Well, I’ll be damned, Bodine. Take a look!”
Bodine crawled to the opening and looked out. The hills were dotted with small fires. He made his way to the other end of the barn. The same sight greeted his eyes. It was Travers’ way of letting them know they were not alone.
“Another time, Bo-dine!” the call came from out of the night. From the mouth of Lone Dog. “We will meet again, Bo-dine.”
“Running away, Lone Dog?” Bodine shouted. “I always knew you were a coward.”
Lone Dog returned the slur, tracing Bodine back to the belly of a rabid prairie dog.
Bodine laughed at the man, the taunting laughter infuriating the man.
“You will die hard, Bo-dine. This I promise you.”
Bodine told him where he could put his threat. Sideways.
* * *
Long before first light, Bodine and a few others had prowled the grounds, seeking confirmation that Lone Dog and his braves had indeed pulled out. The Indians were gone. The many fires had convinced Lone Dog that he was facing many more soldiers than he really was, and he had no taste for total defeat.
Lieutenant Gerry had lost eight men with more than a dozen wounded, three of the wounded not expected to make it. The body count of the civilians could not be completed until the Army had the opportunity to inspect the charred ruins of the town.
Bodine’s eyes were gritty as he squatted down beside the stone fence, a welcome cup of scalding coffee in his hands and waited for the first silver streamers of dawn to cut the darkness.
Lieutenant Gerry came out to join him, one arm in a sling. The front of his coat was dark with dried blood. He held a cup of coffee in his good hand. “Up until this time, my experience with Indians had been limited to what I now see as only minor skirmishes with what I perceived to be very cowardly fighters. I have changed my mind about their courage.”
Blood Bond Page 17