by Jake Henry
Vicious hand-to-hand fighting had broken out at that point with troopers using anything they could to try and stop the overwhelming force. Savage remembered one incident where a desperate young trooper had bitten into the neck of his attacker, bringing forth a spray of blood.
Somehow they’d held and the Apaches had withdrawn to melt back into the desert landscape. However from the amount of dust he’d seen being raised, Savage guessed there were a lot more out there.
‘I see you’re still with us?’ Shelby said as he walked up behind Savage.
Savage looked up at him and nodded. ‘It was a close-run thing, though.’
‘All around I’m afraid,’ Shelby agreed. ‘Although this side seems to have taken the worst of it.’
He shook his head when he looked around and took in his dead men lying about the fort.
Savage noticed the blood on his sleeve. ‘Are you OK?’
‘What? This,’ he said indicating the wound on his left arm. ‘Just a scratch. You seem to have a few yourself.’
‘I was wounded worse in the Shenandoah Valley,’ Savage said honestly. Then he asked, ‘How many did you lose?’
‘Between dead and wounded, fifty men. Fifty!’ The pain was evident on his face. ‘If they hit us like that again, I’m not sure if the fort can hold.’
Savage looked about the fort. Smoke hung heavily in the air as almost everything timber had burned from fire arrows that Delshay’s warriors had used. He saw troopers helping the wounded and others removing the dead to the center of the parade ground. Two piles for soldiers and Apaches with the former being the larger one.
‘Hey, General. Lookee there,’ a trooper called out to Shelby.
Both he and Savage looked to where the man was pointing and saw that an Apache with a white cloth tied to a stick had appeared on the trail.
‘Care to take a walk?’ Shelby asked.
Savage nodded. ‘Why not.’
They climbed the front perimeter and walked a short distance along the trail before stopping. The Apache came closer and stopped in front of them both.
‘I am Delshay, chief of the Yavapai-Apache,’ he said in an arrogant tone. ‘Are you the white chief?’
‘I am,’ said Shelby.
‘Good,’ he grunted. ‘You will give us guns and we will go. Let you live.’
Shelby smiled coldly. ‘You can go to hell.’
‘Then you all die,’
‘If you ain’t noticed,’ Savage challenged, ‘you lost a lot of men when you attacked. What makes you think you will be able to kill us all?’
The Apache held up his left hand as a sign and suddenly the ridges and uneven ground surrounding Fort Jackson sprouted Apaches.
‘After first fight, more join with Delshay,’ he snapped. ‘You give guns and you live.’
Savage stared hard at the Indian and he shifted his stance. Savage frowned and glanced around. He could feel that something wasn’t right, and at that moment he saw a flicker of movement in the rocks not far from the trail. It was a trap.
‘How fast can you run, General?’
‘What?’
Savaged brought up the Yellow Boy so that the muzzle was no more than six inches from the startled Indian’s face and fired. The Apache’s head snapped back as the rifle slug smashed through his nose and out the back of his head with such violence that it seemed to explode.
Savage worked the lever on the rifle and swung about to face the rocks where he’d seen the movement. With a shout of rage, an Indian leaped from behind the rock he’d been sheltered by and aimed one of the Spencers that had been taken from the wagon at him.
Firing from the hip, Savage’s next shot hit the Indian in his mid-section doubling him over. He didn’t fire a second shot. He was too busy running for cover.
‘What the hell did you do that for?’ Shelby gasped when they ducked down in behind the barricade, bullets snapping overhead.
‘Because it was a trap and the son of a bitch wasn’t Delshay,’ Savage explained.
‘Are you sure?’
‘About as sure as I can be.’
Once more, the Apaches swarmed the defenses and the defenders drove them back after more vicious fighting. Heavy casualties were taken by both sides but still the Apaches held the upper hand.
Due to good fortune rather than luck, Savage remained alive and for the most part, except for the previously acquired ones, wound free. He sat on an ammunition crate while all about him lay the dead and wounded. Against all odds, the defenders had held again.
A tired looking trooper with blood stains on his uniform approached Savage.
‘The General wants to see you.’
Savage frowned. ‘Is he OK?’
‘He’s wounded,’ was all he said.
He found Shelby inside an intact building, laying on a table while a trooper worked at removing an arrow from his shoulder.
‘There … there you are,’ he winced as the trooper probed around the arrow with a knife. ‘Take over command for a while, will you?
Savage shook his head. ‘It needs to be one of your men. They ain’t goin’ to like a Yank givin’ them orders.’
‘Damn it, man,’ Shelby hissed, his face twisted with anger and pain, ‘just do it. You were a captain for Christsakes. What these men need at the moment is a leader until I’m back on my feet.’
‘All right. But only until you’re back on your feet.’
‘It’s ready to come out now, General,’ the trooper warned his commanding officer.
‘Just wait,’ he snapped. ‘Savage, you’ll need to bring in the perimeter because we’re spread too thin.’
‘Already thought about that,’ he admitted to Shelby. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.’
‘Make sure the men are ready.’
‘It’ll be fine. They won’t be back today. They’ll regroup and hit us again at first light.’
‘Maybe we can hold them again,’ Shelby said, trying to sound convincing.
‘Maybe.’
Savage left then. There were so many things to do to prepare for what was to come, all the while knowing that the next attack would be the last.
~*~
It was almost dark when Savage was approached by a grizzled sergeant and a tall, thin corporal.
‘Can we have a word with you for a moment, Savage?’ the sergeant asked in a deep voice.
‘Sure …?’
‘Mahoney,’ he said giving his name. ‘This is Phelps.’
Savage nodded, ‘What’s on your mind?’
‘We … the men have been talkin’ amongst ourselves and we’ve come to the conclusion that there ain’t no way that any of us are goin’ to get outta this alive.’
Shrugging his shoulders, Savage said, ‘You never know. We might be able to hold them out.’
‘You and me been soldiers long enough to know horse shit when it’s spoke, Savage,’ Mahoney stated. ‘We have a grand total of thirty fit men left. That second attack chewed up a lot of good men. There ain’t no way in hell we’re getting’ outta this.’
Mahoney was right and Savage knew it.
‘However, two men just might be able to get through the Apaches,’ the sergeant continued.
‘Spell it out, Mahoney,’ Savage commanded.
‘We talked it over and we think that you should take the general and get out.’
‘Now why would you want that?’ Savage asked, his face passive.
‘We believe that if anyone deserves to get outta here, it’s the general,’ Mahoney said. ‘We’ve been fightin’ for him for years now and we figure that if this is the last time, then we should have somethin’ to show for it at the end instead of corpses.’
‘Why don’t you try to get him out?’
Mahoney shook his head. ‘Nope, it has to be you. You ain’t one of us.’
‘How do you propose we do it?’ Savage asked him.
‘You leave that up to us,’ he remarked. ‘Along the southern perimeter of the fort, there is a dry w
ash. It’s close enough so we know there won’t be any Apaches hidin’ in it. It should be deep enough too. You’ll need to be at the perimeter in an hour or so with horses. You’ll slip out and into the wash and wait until the diversion that we’ll mount is underway.’
‘What diversion?’
‘You’ll know it,’ Mahoney assured him. ‘So, will you do it?’
‘All right, I’ll do it.’
~*~
Savage readied the horses first then took them to where he’d last seen Shelby. Inside, he found the general sitting up, shirt open revealing the bloodied bandage, and arguing with Mahoney.
‘Blast your eyes, Mahoney,’ Shelby hissed at the sergeant. ‘I’m still in command here and if I say I’m staying, then I’m staying.’
Mahoney ignored him and looked across at Savage. ‘Are the horses ready?’
‘Yeah.’
He fixed his angry gaze on Savage and snapped harshly, ‘I can’t believe you agreed to this.’
‘The way I see it is that we’re all most likely goin’ to die anyway,’ Savaged explained, ‘and I’d rather die out there doin’ somethin’ worthwhile. And Mahoney there convinced me that you were worthwhile. Who knows, we may even make it.’
Shelby set his jaw firm and said belligerently, ‘My place is here with my men.’
‘Let’s get one thing straight you stubborn son of a bitch,’ Savage hissed. ‘You’re comin’. Even if I have to bend a damn gun barrel over that hard head of yours and carry you. Your men realize they’re goin’ to die here. Let them do so fightin’ for somethin’. Now when you’re ready I’ll be outside with the horses.’
A couple of minutes later Shelby walked out of the small building. Nothing was said as he and Savage walked the horses over to the south side. Before they exited ,Shelby turned to his sergeant and said, ‘God be with you, Mahoney.’
As they shook hands, Savage heard him say, ‘I think God has already left here, Sir.’
Mahoney looked at Savage. ‘Get him through, Yank.’
Savaged nodded. ‘Give ’em hell, Johnny Reb.’
Then, without looking back, they led their animals out into the darkness.
Fourteen
Ten men sat atop their horses and waited. Every one of them had volunteered for this final, suicidal duty. Ten were all that Mahoney had wanted. It should be a sufficient number to carry out their task. His hope was to create enough chaos and draw the Apaches in to provide a small opening in the ring for Savage and Shelby to slip through.
The horses stomped and snorted as they sensed something in the air.
‘Phelps, don’t forget to blow the ammunition store. We don’t want the red devils gettin’ their hands on more rifles and ammunition now do we?’
‘Consider it done,’ Phelps assured him.
Mahoney called out to a man who carried a bugle.
‘Wake the bastards up, Junior,’ he ordered.
The young man put the bugle to his lips and blew the charge. Mahoney had instructed the volunteers to wait until he gave the signal. He let Junior go on for a little longer before he raised his hand and shouted, ‘Charge!’
The ten volunteers, with Mahoney at their head, rode out into the darkness and to their death.
~*~
Shelby went to move forward but a hand from Savage stopped him.
‘Wait,’ he whispered harshly.
The sound of the bugle rang loud in the crisp night desert air. Around them, objects moved as the hidden Apaches came alive. Sudden gunfire started to fill the night with cries of alarm. Somewhere a loud rebel yell pierced the darkness and another flurry of shots rang out.
From the blackness loomed a shadow and Savage’s hand flashed to the Remington on his hip. It came out of the holster and he squeezed the trigger. The orange tongue of flame that spewed forth lit the immediate area and Savage could see the Apache’s face.
The Indian staggered from the slug’s impact and fell forward.
‘Shelby, get on your horse!’ Savage shouted. ‘Now!’
Both men mounted and spurred their horses wickedly. They lunged forward and were soon running hard through the desert away from the flashes and pops of the receding gunfire.
A figure lunged at Shelby from behind a saguaro, but the general was on to it and fired his six-gun point-blank into the attacking Indian. Then another appeared and grabbed at Savage, hooking onto his leg and almost dislodged him from the saddle.
He lashed out with the Remington and caught the Indian across the head as he was being dragged along by the fast-moving paint. The Apache cried out and fell away. More figures moved in the dark and Savage emptied his Remington at them. Ahead, Shelby did the same, his gun-flashes illuminating the dark.
Then the desert stopped moving and the sound of gunfire disappeared. They were clear.
~*~
Delshay was far from happy. All about him were dead warriors. His warriors and it gnawed at him like a festering wound. He looked at the blackened hole in the ground where the ammunition store had been blown up. Taking on the white-eye’s fort had cost him too many men. By rights, he should have stopped the attack before it ever got this far but the Apache chief’s stubborn pride hadn’t let him and this was the result. He looked up at the clear blue, early morning sky and saw the vultures already starting to circle.
A shirtless warrior jogged up to him, the muscles on his torso rippled as he moved across the corpse-strewn parade ground.
‘Two of the White-Eyes have escaped,’ he said, coming to a stop before the Apache chief.
Delshay’s face screwed up with bitterness. ‘How?’
‘I do not know. In the dark. They killed some warriors as they rode clear.’
The Apache chief looked once more at the dead scattered all around. Such a waste of his brave warriors. Then he looked at the dead white men and all of a sudden the whole thing sickened him.
‘Let them go,’ Delshay murmured, all of his fight now gone.
‘But …’
‘I said let them go,’ he commanded. ‘Enough blood has been spilled in revenge. Maybe too much.’
The warrior nodded and walked away, leaving Delshay alone among the dead.
~*~
By the end of the day, Shelby swayed in his saddle like a drunk riding home after a day in the saloon. He had a raging fever that indicated that his wound was becoming infected. His face glistened with sweat and his words were starting to slur.
Savage knew that they needed to find somewhere to lay up so he could see to him or there was a good chance that Shelby would die. He found a place not long before dusk along a shallow, spring-fed creek. Ten yards back from the water was a steep cut with an overhang where they could make camp.
Once he had the horses tethered and a small fire going, Savage crossed to where Shelby lay.
‘How are you feelin’?’
Shelby shivered uncontrollably as fever ravaged his body. ‘Great.’
‘I’d better have a look at that wound of yours,’ Savage said, leaning forward.
‘How long do you plan on staying here?’ Shelby asked.
Savage opened his shirt and as he did so, said, ‘I didn’t see no dust or anythin’ so I’d say we’re safe here for the time bein’.’
Shelby stiffened as his wound was probed and prodded.
‘I’m goin’ to have to open that back up to release some of the infection,’ he informed the general. ‘It’ll hurt like a bitch but it needs to be done.’
‘Can’t make me feel any worse,’ said Shelby cynically.
Savage took his knife and placed it in the fire to sterilize the blade, then went to the stream to collect some fresh water in a canteen and washed the soiled bandages. When he returned, the blade was ready and he put it aside to cool.
‘Are you ready?’
Shelby nodded apprehensively.
Taking up the knife, Savage clenched his jaw and said hoarsely, ‘keep still.’
He leaned as much weight as possible upon Shelby t
o hold him still, then pushed the knife blade into the festering mess and released the stinking build-up of pus. Beneath him, Shelby writhed and cried out from the acute burning pain that seared into his brain.
Ten minutes later with the wound cleaned as best he could, Savage placed the knife blade back into the fire. He left it there until the blade glowed red then placed it against the exposed wound. The general’s deafening roar was cut short as it all became too much and Shelby passed out.
~*~
Morgan, Stark, and Willis were outlaws. Not famous ones by any stretch, but outlaws none the less, and were wanted for stagecoach hold-ups, bank jobs, and numerous killings. At this point in time, they were headed for a small settlement called Phoenix.
It was just on dark when the rider came upon them camped out in a draw by a shallow stream. Their first indication of his presence was the sound of horseshoe striking rock.
‘Hello the camp, I’m coming in,’ the rider called out, his voice unmistakably southern.
All three men stood up and kept their hands where they could reach their six-guns in case of trouble.
‘Come on in,’ Morgan called back. ‘Just keep your hands away from your hardware or we’ll shoot you down.’
When the rider rode in close enough, he dismounted and walked into the firelight where the three outlaws could see him.
‘Well lookee what we got here,’ Morgan guffawed. ‘It Robert E. Lee hisself. All duded up in his Reb uniform.’
Perkins stood motionless and studied the three men.
‘Damn, Morg.’ Willis joined in, ‘if you ain’t right at that. ‘What’s your name Reb?’
‘Perkins.’
‘Haven’t you heard? The war’s over,’ Morgan remarked.
‘You don’t say.’
‘What you all doin’ way out here anyways?’ Stark asked.
‘Riding,’ Perkins said. ‘Where are you men headed?’
‘Phoenix,’ Morgan answered.
‘Never heard of it.’
‘It’s a new settlement. Ain’t even got any law yet,’ Willis informed him.
Perkins looked at the coffee pot on the boil.
‘Coffee smells good,’ he commented.