Kilrone (1966)

by L'amour, Louis

  “This is a long way from Paris,” he commented. “Do you miss it?”

  “Occasionally. I would be lying if I did not admit it , but I do not miss it nearly so often as one would believe.

  It is beautiful here … I love to ride, and I have books t o read. Betty is a great help. She’s remarkable in so man y ways.”

  She looked to the hills. “And the hills are the best of i t all, I think. Frank hates the post. I believe he hates i t most because he thinks I do. As a matter of fact, I lov e those mountains; they’re so restful, so … enduring, an d timeless.”

  Stella Rybolt was waiting for them inside the door.

  “Well, you made itl” she said cheerfully to Denise. “I w as just coming down to lend a hand.”

  “Stella Rybolt, this is Barnes Kilrone. It used to b e Captain Barnes Kilrone.”

  “How do you do, Captain? Oh, I remember you! We never met, but there were stories, Captain, there wer e stories! And such stories!”

  “Better forget the ‘captain’,” Kilrone suggested. “Tha t was several years ago. I’m a civilian now.”

  “I wish Gus was here. You were a favorite of his. He liked the way you took after that Indian agent bac k down the line. Said we needed more officers like you.”

  “And I’m no longer in the army because of it,” h e commented dryly. Til admit nobody forced me t o resign, but there were things I wanted to do that I coul d not do while in uniform’. So I resigned and did them.”

  “I know.” Stella Rybolt gestured toward the potbellie d stove. “Look, I’ve made some coffee. Let’s si t down and talk a little. It’s no use sitting around wit h long faces.”

  Kilrone shifted his feet. “Later. I have a few things t o do.”

  As he stepped outside, one of the farriers walked u p to him. “Kilrone? I’m McCracken. Sergeant Ryerson sai d you’d be acting in command.”

  “McCracken, I’m going to put you and your partner , Dawson, in the warehouse. Webster will be with you. I d on’t need to tell you that those Indians mustn’t get th e warehouse.”

  “They won’t, sir.”

  “You’ll be getting help from us. We can cover yo u front and back from Headquarters. We’ll have to b e helping the boys in the hospital, too. And you can hel p us. But don’t forget to watch your blind side.”

  “Are you planning to release those boys from th e guardhouse? They’re good fighters, if you can handl e ‘em. That Lahey, now—he’s the best rifle shot in th e regiment—or one of the best. And he’s a fighter … b elieve me, he is.”

  “How about the other two?”

  Troublemakers, both of them. Teale is a cowhan d from Texas. The boys figure he joined up so he’d have a place to stay during the winter.”

  “A snowbird?”

  McCracken grinned. “You know the lingo, sir. Yeah , that’s what he is. He’s a rider, though, and a good ma n when he’s sober—which is most of the time. When h e gets a couple under his belt he heads for Hog Town an d a poker game.”

  “And loses every cent he makes?”

  “You said it.” McCracken glanced at him. “Do yo u gamble?”

  “When Sproul runs the house it’s no gamble, believ e me. He never ran an honest game in his life.”

  McCracken shrugged. “That’s a good way to ge t killed, saying something like that where it can b e heard.”

  “He wants me, anyway,” Kilrone replied shortly, “an d maybe he’ll get his chance.”

  “The other one, over there,” McCracken said, “is a Swiss, he says. He might be something else … a Germa n or a Pole There’s no telling about some of these people.

  This one is big and he’s mean, but hell fight. He ha s made sergeant three times, I hear, and lost his stripe s each time. He’s only been with us a few weeks. His nam e is Mendel. At least, that’s his name for this enlistment.”

  The rain continued, but remained a fine, mistlike rain.

  One by one as the men came up the parade ground h e assigned them to their places. The three from the guardhous e he broke up, putting Lahey in the hospital Teal e in Headquarters and adding Mendel to the warehouse.

  Ryerson would remain in command at the hospital , McCracken would handle the warehouse. Reinhardt, a teamster, and Olson, a cook, would also be at the hospital.

  With himself at the Headquarters building he woul d have Kells. Draper, and Ryan, teamsters. Ryan was a brother of one of the men lost with I Troop. He woul d also have Rudio the baker, Teale from the guardhouse , and Hopkins the sutler. And with them in Headquarter s they would have ten women and six children.

  “What about Hog Town?” Teale asked.

  “They’ll get along ” Hopkins said. “Dave Sproul has a t least twenty men over there. Anyway, it’s the pos t they’ll be wanting, and we’ll be having plenty of troubl e here before this is over.”

  As the day went on they worked steadily, bringin g food from the warehouse to the hospital and to Headquarters; a nd a barrel was brought into each place an d filled with water. Sacks from the sutler’s store and th e warehouse were brought in to fight fire; and material s for binding wounds and taking emergency care of injurie s were brought from the hospital.

  All the available weapons on sale at the sutler’s wer e brought to Headquarters and loaded. With spare rifle s from the warehouse, each man had two rifles.

  “How many of you women can load?” Kilrone asked.

  “Miss Considine and Mrs. Paddock excepted. I wan t them free to handle the wounded, if any.”

  “I can load,” Stella Rybolt offered. “I’ve had a spell o r two of loading before this.”

  Alice Dunivant and Sophie Dawson, wives of enliste d men, could load too. Pat Dunivant, who was twelve, als o volunteered.

  As the shadows gathered, Kilrone walked restlessl y about, studying the buildings along the parade ground , and the hills that loomed just beyond. Without doub t there was an Indian, and possibly several, already waitin g up in the Santa Rosas, an Indian who was watchin g whatever they did. As he moved about he tried to thin k of anything he might have overlooked. If the attac k lasted long, a barrel of water would not be enough—bu t there were no more barrels.

  There’s barrels in Hog Town,” Teale commented , grinning tauntingly at Kilrone. “All you got to do is g o get them.”

  “And I might do just that.”

  Teale looked at him skeptically. “From Iron Dave?

  He’d make you pay five times the price.”

  “Maybe we can find some others,” Kilrone said. “Otherwise , we might have to go get them.”

  “You,” Teale said, “not me.”

  At Hog Town, Iron Dave Sproul sat at his roll-top des k and chewed on a long black cigar while he listened t o Poole’s report.

  “They’ve pulled out of the barracks,” Poole said.

  “Hopkins even left his store. They’re holed up in Headquarters , the hospital, and the warehouse.”

  “You say Paddock rode out with sixty men? It doesn’t sound reasonable that he would leave the town and th e post undefended.”

  “It ain’t likely Medicine Dog would make a try at thi s place.” Poole said. “And Paddock may trap him if h e tackles Mellett.”

  “Who’s in command at the post? Rybolt?”

  “He ain’t due back until tomorrow or the next day.”

  Poole lifted his wary eyes to Sproul’s. “He went after th e payroll. You’d figure,” he added, “he’d not risk it wit h Indians on the warpath. That there payroll could disappea r an’ nobody be the wiser.”

  Sproul rolled his cigar in his jaws, considering that. Of course Poole was right. If the entire payroll guard wa s wiped out nobody would know how it happened, bu t the Indians would be blamed. There was risk, but al l artrocities were blamed on the Indians anyway. I n any event, he had no idea of letting Poole know how h e was thinking, for the fewer who knew the better, and h e wanted no one around to point a finger in the years t o come.

  AH his trade with the Indians
he had handled himself , and so far as he knew not even one of the men wh o worked for him at Hog Town had any idea of it. Th e danger had always been that of being caught in the act , but he had moved with care, kept himself informed o n troop movements, and had carefully avoided anythin g that would arouse suspicion. His “prospecting” had bee n a neat cover.

  “Sergeant Ryerson’s actually in command,” Poole wen t on, “but there’s some newcomer givin’ orders around.

  Some feller I never seen before.”

  “What’s his rank?”

  “That’s the funny part, Mr. Sproul. This man ain’t even in uniform. He’s some civilian friend of Paddock’s , from what they say.”

  Sproul was disturbed. A civilian giving orders on a n army post? It didn’t sound reasonable. In fact, he’d never heard of such a thing … more than likely it was a mistake. But the unknown or ill-defined always disturbe d him. Sproul was a planner, a conniver, and h e based his actions on information, and that informatio n he wanted exact and complete. This unknown civilia n was a new consideration, and it irritated him that h e knew nothing about him.

  “What’s he look like?’

  Poole shrugged. “I seen him around. He looks lik e some down-at-the-heel cowhand ridin’ the grub line.

  Big, rangy man, wide shoulders, narrow hips … might y shabby. He rides a good horse though.”

  The description told Sproul nothing. It might hav e been that of any number of men he knew—of a doze n who came to Hog Town on Saturday night.

  A friend of Major Paddock? He mulled that over , remembering all he knew of Paddock. He seemed a n unlikely person to have a friend, welcome in his home a s this one was, who was simply a cowhand, a driftin g cowhand at that. And Denise Paddock was French, s o that left that ou t After Poole was gone he considered what he ha d learned, dismissing the stranger for the time being. I t was of no real importance anyway, he decided, for the y could not hope to defend the post with so few men.

  The warehouse was the important building, for if th e Bannocks could get the arms that were stored there , they would constitute a threat to the whole frontier. Th e man who averted that threat would find himself in a n enviable position, and one hard to defeat in any election.

  And it was this toward which Iron Dave Sproul ha d been working for more than ten years.

  Many things could be said about him, but nothin g could be proved, for Sproul was not the owner of recor d of any of the gambling houses or honky-tonks wit h which he had been associated. He made a practice o f coming around, of being seen, and of talking to peopl e here and there. It was assumed he was the owner, an d so he was; but in each case he had a straw man betwee n himself and the records.

  In the future he would blandly deny any connectio n with such places. Yes, he had been around them, bu t they were die customary meeting places on the frontier , and much business was done in saloons and gamblin g houses. Men met there to buy or sell cattle, to complet e mining deals, to arrange for freighting contracts.

  Medicine Dog was the key to the outbreak, and it wa s Sproul who had built him into prominence. When th e news was released that Webb had been killed and hi s troop massacred, then that Medicine Dog had attacke d and burned the post, taking over five hundred stands o f arms—it was an exaggeration but it sounded well—th e frontier would be in a panic.

  At that moment, Dave Sproul would step in, mee t with the Indians, end the outbreak, and become th e man of the hour. From there he might become governo r or go to the Senate … and Dave Sproul knew ho w politics could be used by a man with no scruples, n o moral principles, and only a driving greed and ambition.

  Chapter 8

  The hours preceding an attack are slow hours. Th e minutes pace themselves slowly, and those who wai t find a savor in life, for they begin to taste, to feel, t o hear as at no other time. They realize these hours ma y be their last, and their senses are sharpened and mor e alert, and things formerly ignored are now appreciated , or at least realized, as never before.

  Night came gently to the post. The rain continue d quietly. There was no thunder, no lightning, no heightenin g of drama in so far as nature was concerned.

  In the three buildings at the end of the parade groun d the people bedded down like refugees, making themselve s comfortable, half in fear and half in a sort of thril l at the strangeness of it. To the few youngsters, th e atmosphere was almost that of a picnic. It was campin g out … some of them had not even seen the inside o f Headquarters before.

  Guards were posted outside, none of them furthe r than sixty feet from the buildings. Of one thing the y were sure. The Indians would not come with a rush , exposing themselves as targets. They would come quietly , moving like shadows in the earliest hours before th e dawn, or perhaps even at night. They would be clos e and all around them before anyone realized it. The me n on guard post knew they would have little time in whic h to get back inside; the last guard of the night would b e mounted from within the buildings.

  Kilrone had too few men for any offensive action. He could afford no losses. His would be a holding action, an , attempt to delay until the patrols could return. Th e tactical advantages of defense were denied him, for h e had no covering forces to use in delaying the enemy, t o disorganize their advance, or decieve them as to the tru e location of the defense.

  His greatest advantage lay in his excellent field of fir e to the north and south, and in the covering fire the thre e buildings could offer for each other. The greatest disadvantag e lay in the limited field of fire to east and west.

  The women, rising as always to an emergency, whe n more often than not they function at their best, bustle d about and were busy.

  He was not worried about the women; he knew that i n those around him he was especially fortunate. Thes e were soldiers’ wives or relatives, bred to a realization o f frontier life and the possibility of frontier warfare. No t one of them was likely to falter.

  Stella Rybolt, as the more experienced, was in he r element. Denise was quietly competent, quietly in cornmand , but without any effort at assertion. She, wh o alone among the women had not been born or brough t up on the frontier, came of a soldier family; moreover , being of the nobility and the wife of a commandin g officer here, hers was a necessity for courage. One of th e easiest ways to be brave is to have bravery expected o f you.

  With Denise there could be no question of her role.

  The matter of her role or her reaction to the situatio n would never even arise in her mind, for the position t o which she had been bred was not only that of leader , but of protector.

  Barney Kilrone walked out on the parade ground , visiting each barracks. It had been the rule to have a barrel of water at each corner of each barracks building , but those barrels were now gone. Inquiry revealed tha t they had been piled into a wagon and taken to the cree k for refilling, and had not been returned. That had bee n two days ago.

  Paddock had been drinking, Ryerson ill, and nobod y had been quite up to par. Colonel Webb and Mellet t gone … and somebody had been careless. But it migh t have been part of a preconceived plan, arranged b y someone who was aiming at destruction of the arm y Well, if those barrels had been left at the cree k they should be there still.

  He went on toward the corrals and stopped. Jus t ahead of him he heard a faint rustle of movement , glimpsed a momentary shadow. Somebody was pitchin g hay to the horses. Kilrone walked around the corral an d it was Teale.

  He stopped when he saw Kilrone, poised with th e pitchfork in his hand. “You, is it? Figured I’d feed th e horses before I went on guard. They may not get fed fo r a while.”

  “Good thinking.” Kilrone paused. “Teale,” he said afte r a moment, “we should have those barrels. If this last s any while at all, one barrel of water for each buildin g won’t be enough. Especially at Headquarters, where th e women and children will be.”

  Teale was leaning on his fork now. Because of th e darkness, Kilrone could not tell what his reaction was.
r />   “The barrels were left in a wagon down at the creek,”

  Kilrone said. “Would you know where that would be?”

  “Uh-huh. There’s a pool near the Hog Town crossing.

  We usually watered up there. When the Major ordere d K Troop out, they were told just to leave the wagon , that somebody would go pick it up, but nobody did.”

  “Catch me up a couple of those mules, will you , Teale? I’m going after that wagon.”

  “Suppose the wagon ain’t there?”

  “Then I’ll go where it is.”

  “Alone?”

  “Why not? In any event, we can’t spare any men to g o along. They’ll be needed on the post”

  Teale stood his fork against the corral. “Maybe the y can spare one man. I’d like to sort of trail along an’ se e what happens.”

  He paused. “You got any idea what you’re gettin’ into?

  I know why that wagon wasn’t sent after. Some o f Sproul’s men hooked onto it and pulled it into Ho g Town. Ryerson was too sick to go himself and didn’t lik e to send anybody after it without orders. Now, I’ve got a feelin’ Iron Dave Sproul won’t let you have that wagon , and if you make any kind of a fuss, Iron Dave will cho p you up without working up a sweat.”

  Teale stepped into the corral, caught a couple of th e big Missouri mules, and led them out. Kilrone shut an d fastened the gate while Teale took the mules to th e harness rack.

  After the animals were harnessed, the two me n mounted and rode away toward the creek, Teale leadin g the way. Kilrone sat silently on the big mule.

  Their time was short. Barrels or not, they must ge t back before daylight. His thoughts strayed to Betty Considine.

  There was something about her that stuck in a man’s mind, some quality beyond her beauty or he r charm. It was that quiet competence that made a ma n realize she was a woman to walk beside a man and no t behind him. She had a certain glamor, but she ha d staying quality also, and it was a quality to look for i n horses, in men, or in women.

  Trees hung over the creek, shadowing the gently rustlin g waters. The rain hissed softly as it fell. Otherwise , the night was still. There was no wagon, and the ligh t they struck revealed two deep cuts in the far ban k where “it had gone up.