by Jake Henry
Savage ignored the remark and walked beyond the firelight to check on the horses. The coyotes started up again and the sorrel shifted nervously.
‘Easy horse,’ he soothed. ‘They won’t be comin’ tonight.’
The animal snorted as though it understood the calming words. Savage stood there beside the animal for a time staring out across the desert. He watched as inanimate figures like the giant saguaros seemingly took on life.
The Apaches called back and forth to one another and Savage figured there were now at least five of them out there in the dark. He decided then that they would ride on before the sun came up, maybe even a couple of hours before dawn.
It would take at least another day and a half to reach the fort. Add another day turnaround before the cavalry headed back into the mountains.
Savage walked back into the firelight and saw that Lucifer had laid down beside the fire, back to him, trying to keep warm. He shrugged his shoulders and said sarcastically, ‘I’ll take first watch shall I?’
Lucifer remained silent.
‘Nope, I insist. Don’t go getting’ up on my account.”
Nothing.
Savage frowned. He moved closer to the still form and noticed the dark stain on the sand beneath him. Hesitantly, he reached down and gripped Lucifer’s shoulder and rolled him onto his back.
The man was dead. His throat had been slashed right across and gaped wide like some sort of macabre smile.
‘Well now,’ Savage said as he straightened and dropped his hand to the butt of the Remington. ‘It looks like Lucifer has gone to Hell.’
~*~
Everywhere he looked, the morning sky was filled with signal-smoke. North, east, west, and south. There was no escaping the fact that he was surrounded. Savage had left the campsite well before dawn. He’d left both Lucifer and his horse behind. The dead man’s weapons, however, he’d kept. The Navy Colt, he placed in his saddlebags and the rifle was rolled up in his bedroll.
‘Somethin’s sure got them riled up, horse,’ Savage said out loud to the sorrel. ‘Surely it ain’t because of Lucifer. All this smoke ain’t from the Chiricahua. There’s somethin’ else goin’ on. Somethin’ big.’
The horse shifted uneasily beneath him and waited patiently as Savage took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. He’d stopped to assess his options and studied the surrounding country. There was a faint dust haze in every direction except to the south of his position on the low ridge. It wasn’t the way he wanted to go but seemed to be the only avenue open to him and was more than likely the way the Apaches wanted him to go.
Savage reached down and took the Yellow Boy from the saddle scabbard. He checked the action and sat it with its but resting on his right thigh.
He eased the horse forward and said, ‘Looks like things are about to get a whole lot more interestin’.
Savage chose to go west. Not because he wanted to, but because that was the most direct route to Fort Craig. He rode between two giant saguaros and followed the faint trail down the slope before he cut off it and dropped down into a dry wash.
He followed its winding path for two miles until the sound of horse hooves rumbling across the desert reached his ears. He hauled back on the reins and brought the sorrel to a halt. Then he spotted them. Their track would bring them within fifty yards of his position.
Savage urged the sorrel forward until it was hidden behind a clump of brush at the edge of the wash. He dismounted and stood near the sorrel’s head and rubbed its muzzle to keep it quiet while the strange horses passed.
The drumming grew louder and he could see them clearly when he peered around the edge of the clump. Thirty of them. Their long black hair bounced against brown shoulders covered in dust kicked up by their horses as they cantered along.
The sorrel surged against Savage’s grip and he fought to keep it from breaking loose. As the drumming grew quieter it settled again and all that was left of the Apaches passing was the billowing cloud of dust.
Savage climbed back into the saddle. ‘Come on horse, it’s time we got the hell outta here.’
~*~
Ben Simeon saw the same smoke that Savage had seen that morning and cursed Perkins and his lunatic scheme. This entire part of Arizona territory was about to have the lid blown off and Perkins was too wrapped-up in his own world and blinded by his cause to see how dangerous the situation could become. He’d pushed his horse for most of the night but the animal was tired. He knew that if he didn’t locate Savage soon, he would be forced to stop for a long period for his mount to rest.
Without warning, the ground in front of him heaved and exploded upwards as a figure came clear of the depression it had been hiding in. The renegade Rios had managed to circle around to get in front of Simeon and had buried himself just to the left of the trail to wait for his quarry. He brought up a battered Spencer repeating rifle and aimed it at Simeon.
The hammer on the rifle fell and the sound of the gunshot rocked the surrounding desert. Just before the bullet knocked the captain from his horse, he could see the look of triumph on the renegade’s face.
The impact of the heavy caliber slug felt like a hammer blow to his chest and as he fell, Simeon’s body became numb from the shock of it. He hit the ground hard, his face planted firmly into the coarse sand. Unable to move, he could hear Rios approach. The sound of his footsteps was followed by a shadow that fell across him.
Rios prodded at the open wound in Simeon’s back where the bullet from the Spencer had exited. The captain stiffened and screamed as pain shot through his body.
‘Good,’ Rios hissed in a low voice. ‘You are still alive. But you will soon be dead.’
The renegade bent down and grabbed the prone Simeon roughly by the shoulder and rolled him onto his back. The killer’s eyes flew wide when he found himself staring down the barrel of Simeon’s six-gun.
‘Eat this you son of a bitch,’ Simeon said, his cold smile exposed blood-stained teeth.
The gun crashed loudly and spewed a mix of flame and blue-gray smoke from its barrel. The slug smashed into Rios’ face, blowing brain matter and bone fragments from the back of his head. The lifeless body fell to the ground with a dull thud and Simeon snarled wetly, ‘Got you, you bastard. Damn well … ‘
He coughed and a rattle emanated from deep within his chest. ‘I guess you got me too. And good.’
Simeon tried to sit up but the pain from his wound wracked his body and stopped his attempt. He tried again, gritting his teeth and clenching his jaw to counteract the blinding pain. He let himself fall back and lay panting from the exertion.
He decided to take a minute before having another go. There was a strange sensation from deep in his chest as it started to fill with blood.
Simeon looked up at the cloudless sky, the pale blue seemingly endless. While he stared out at it, every breath grew shallower until eventually, he stopped breathing altogether.
Twenty minutes later, as if on cue, a vulture began to turn lazy circles overhead. It was soon joined by several more. Before long, the first of the carrion eaters landed. It waddled cautiously over to the closest corpse, looked it over to make sure it was dead and sank its sharp-pointed beak into Simeon’s right eye.
Eight
Savage knew that trouble had found him the moment a small covey of quail broke from a clump of acacia. Their wings beat furiously at the air in an effort to escape what had startled them. He drew back on the horse’s reins and made sure to keep his hands away from his weapons.
Apart from his horse’s breath, the desert was silent. Nothing moved. He waited for a full minute before a mounted Apache appeared to his right quickly followed by two more.
Then four came up on his left. As around another forty came thundering up from behind, a single Apache moved to stand in front of Savage and block the sorrel’s path.
He wore a red bandanna around his head, which kept long black hair from his face. His dark eyes were deeply set in his bronzed face and his cl
othing consisted of leggings and a stained shirt.
When he stepped forward he carried himself with great pride. He stared up at Savage and said in fluent Spanish, ‘I see you, Jeff Savage. It has been a while.’
Savage nodded in agreement. ‘Hello, Cochise.’
~*~
‘I say we kill him now,’ he heard a thin sinewy brave say loudly. ‘Let us feed him to the ants and the buzzards while the sun burns out his eyes.’
Cochise stared unwaveringly at Savage who sat on the sand with his hands tied behind his back. The last time Savage and the fearsome Apache chief had met, it had been under much better circumstances. In fact, the chief had only been a brave when they’d first encountered each other.
It had been back in the days when Savage worked as a freighter shipping goods along the overland stage route. The freight outfit had been attacked by a band of twenty Chiricahua out looking for horses and guns.
They’d hit late in the afternoon, coming out of the sunset, using the glare in their favor. After a brief but fierce battle, they’d pulled back but left two dead freighters and five dead braves. And a wounded Cochise.
The others had wanted to shoot the wounded brave on sight but Savage would have no part in it. He stood defiantly against his fellow teamsters and in the end, he won out and Cochise was released.
Savage was reasonably sure it was the reason he was still alive so far and hadn’t been skinned alive. His only hope was that his luck would hold out long enough to try and convince Cochise to let him go.
Savage looked about at the other paint-daubed faces that stared coldly in his direction. All because of that bastard Lucifer.
Cochise and the others had been arguing for hours and it was now late in the afternoon. Savage was cramped and his mouth felt as dry as the desert they were in.
Suddenly there was an outburst and the sinewy brave threw his arms up in the air and stormed off. Cochise rose and walked over to where Savage sat with his back against an uncomfortable rock.
‘What’s the verdict?’ he asked.
Cochise shrugged. ‘Maybe you die, maybe you live. It is still not decided. Most of my warriors want you dead. The others will leave that decision for me to make.’
‘Your friend didn’t look too happy with that idea.’
‘That is because his brother was killed by a white man who takes hair some days ago,’ Cochise explained. ‘He wants all white eyes to pay for it. You ride the land of the Yavapai at a bad time Jeff Savage.’
‘Why are your people in the land of the Yavapai?’ Savage inquired.
‘The man who killed Chaco’s brother also killed others for their hair. We ride to avenge them. And to kill him.’
‘So it was your people who attacked the Concho Springs stage station?’
Cochise nodded.
‘But why?. They did nothin’ to you or your people. It was just plain murder.’
And what do you call the killing of our people?’ Cochise spat angrily.
He was right. But their retribution against the innocent wasn’t.
‘And you let that feller go with a message for the fort?’
Cochise nodded again.
‘What is goin’ on with the Yavapai?’ Savage asked.
‘Bluecoat soldiers rode against a small group of Yavapai yesterday. They killed not only men but women and children.’
Savage thought about what the chief had just told him. The colonel had said nothing about sending troops into the mountains. He was concentrating his patrols elsewhere.
‘Are they certain that it was blue-coats?’ Savage asked.
Cochise nodded grimly. ‘They left some of their dead behind.’
Savage shook his head. ‘I don’t understand it. I left the fort the day after you and your braves hit Concho Springs and the commander there was goin’ to concentrate his forces lookin’ for the Chiricahua. He said he was goin’ to stay away from here and I guess step up patrols to protect the trails and such while he was at it.’
‘Why are you here?’ Cochise asked the obvious question.
‘Lookin’ for a half-breed feller called Rios. The army wanted me to hunt him and his renegades down.’
Savage went on to elaborate his past days and what he was doing when the Chiricahuas had picked him up.
‘It is a shame you did not kill that one,’ Cochise said. ‘He is bad.’
‘Yeah, I’ve seen his work. On the other hand, though, the feller you’re lookin’ for is dead.’
Cochise turned his head to look into the eyes of his captive. ‘What do you mean dead.’
‘Last night,’ Savage explained. ‘I was checkin’ the horses and when I went back, I found him dead with his throat cut. I was wonderin’ if it was your braves? But I’m guessin’ it was Yavapai.’
Cochise shook his head.
‘So I guess you fellers can all go home now,’ Savage proposed. ‘Now that the feller you want is dead and all.’
Again Cochise shook his head. ‘The Yavapai have asked us for our help to fight the blue-coats. We will ride to join them.’
‘But why? It couldn’t have been the soldiers from Fort Craig who did it. I told you they aren’t even up here.’
‘Then who else?’ Cochise snapped.
Savage’s shoulders slumped. ‘I don’t know.’
Cochise stood up to leave.
‘What now?’
‘I go to talk to the others and see if they will let you live,’ Cochise explained.
‘Thank you.’
‘I will do my best,’ Cochise said. ‘I have not forgotten that I owe you my life.’
‘I was kinda hopin’ you would remember.’
‘It doesn’t mean that you will live. I may be chief but I am also one man and at this time we are at war with the white-eyes.’
~*~
While Cochise was gone, Savage sat and thought about what the chief had told him. There was no way that the colonel had men here in the mountains. It raised all sorts of questions. Like who could it have been and why? Who would gain by doing it? It wasn’t scalp hunters.
If they had been dressed in Reb uniforms then it could have been them, but they hadn’t been. Whoever it was would supposedly be long gone by now otherwise they’d have a whole army of Apaches coming down on them. A whole army …
‘Son of a bitch,’ Savage said out loud. ‘No. He wouldn’t be so stupid.’
His mind went back to the dinner with Shelby and how the general had told him of the crazy Perkins. The man needed a big army or a whole lot of fanatical fighters like himself. And if he could rile up the Apaches and get them onside, then he would have his worked up force of fighters. They would face the common enemy together. And he guessed that their first target would be Fort Craig.
~*~
It was dark when Cochise returned, though not with the news that Savage had hoped for. Instead, he said to him, ‘Tomorrow you shall fight for your freedom. It will be a fight to the death with knives.’
‘Who?’
‘Chaco.’
‘Hell,’ sighed Savage.
‘It is the best I could do.’
Savage nodded. ‘Thanks. I think.’
Cochise just grunted.
‘I been thinkin’ about what you said. You know about those bluecoats that killed the Yavapai.’
‘Yes?’
‘I don’t think they were blue-coats,’ Savage said. ‘It was Rebs dressed that way.’
‘Why would they do that?’ Cochise asked.
Savage explained the thinking behind it then asked, ‘What are the Yavapai plannin’?’
Cochise just stared at him, the orange light of the flickering fire dancing shadows across his face.
‘I do not know.’
‘If I win this fight tomorrow, will you take your people home?’ Savage asked.
‘No.’
‘You have to trust me, Cochise, I’m right about this. If you and your braves continue to wage war in this territory, then a lot of you will die for s
omething that is beyond your control. This whole thing has been manipulated by a damned maniac.’
‘And what of the Yavapai?’ Cochise asked.
‘I will do my best to stop this. Whatever it is. The Rebs have a great chief, like you, and if anyone can help me stop it, it is him.’
‘What about the one you say is responsible?’
‘If it’s true, then I will kill him myself,’ Savage told him.
‘But first you have to face Chaco,’ Cochise pointed out.
‘Yeah, Chaco.’
~*~
‘Tomorrow, Sergeant,’ Perkins said with finality. ‘We will take a column of men out tomorrow and strike a bargain with the Yavapai.’
‘And if they don’t listen?’
‘They’ll listen,’ Perkins said confidently. ‘I want you to put fifty rifles from our store into a wagon and we’ll take it with us.’
‘Are you sure that’s …?’
‘Just damn well do it,’ Perkins snapped.
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Hand pick the men,’ Perkins told him. ‘I want soldiers who have undying loyalty to the cause.’
Esa nodded. ‘Who are you goin’ to leave in charge of the fort?’
‘Is Simeon back yet?’
‘No.’
‘Then I’ll have to leave you in charge.’
‘I think I should be along with you, Sir.’
‘You are the only one I trust to do the job,’ Perkins told him. ‘And if Simeon shows, lock him away with his commanding officer for being off post. At least that way I shall be rid of him.’
~*~
The sun was a flaming ball of orange in the cloudless sky the next morning when Savage and Chaco finally squared off against one another. The sinewy Apache was shirtless and each move he made caused his muscles to ripple. The desert heat had already brought about a thin sheen to his body.
The adversaries were encircled by nearly all of the Chiricahua raiding party, bodies creating an almost impenetrable barrier.
Cochise moved forward and offered Savage his own knife.
‘Know this,’ he said to Savage. ‘If you die, I shall do my best to see that the Yavapai are not fooled by the white-eye you talked about.’