They had waited and watched, planning their attack , but nothing happened. Now they had come to see.
One by one they appeared, disappeared, then appeare d again. They walked a few steps, paused to liste n and to look, then impelled by a curiosity that robbe d them of caution, they came out further on the parad e ground. Undoubtedly this was the culmination of severa l hours of waiting and listening, for it was a certain thin g that the Indians had been out there for some time.
“Teale,” Kilrone said, “you and Ryan keep a shar p watch. When that explosion goes off, somebody is goin g to jump and run. I don’t want them to get away.”
“What explosion?”
“Don’t worry, Teale. There’ll be one. Eight out ther e in front of you.” He explained quickly what he had done , and Teale grinned at him.
Kilrone knelt at the window. His mouth was dry an d he kept wiping his palms on his pants. It was very stil l out there in the growing light. Two of the Indians ha d turned and were walking up the parade ground towar d Headquarters. Another one was trying the door of a barracks, but the door had been locked. He went to th e window, put his face against the glass, and peered in.
Every moment of delay, Kilrone was thinking, was a moment won, for it was a moment closer to the return o f the troops. He could hear his own heart beating. Withi n the room, nobody stirred, or even seemed to breath.
“Just wait,” he said aloud, “let them look around.”
There were several Indians around the corral, pickin g up what they could use. The horses had been gon e before daylight. Including his own. A man didn’t have t o have much in this country, but without a horse he ha d nothing at all.
The sky remained gray and sullen, and over th e mountains the overcast had shrouded the peaks. Th e color of the trees was beginning to be clear now, a deeper green, more somber somehow.
How did a man feel when he was about to die, Kilron e wondered. And it might come to just that. Any Indian s out there at all, meant that there would be severa l hundred.
They’ll burn me out,” Hopkins remarked gloomily.
“You’ll be alive,” Kells said. “How about that?”
But would he? At least, he would have a fightin g chance here, and so would his wife.
Betty was suddenly beside Kilrone. “Barney, where’s Mary?”
“The Indian girl? I haven’t seen her.”
“Theyll loll her, Barney.”
Would they? One never knew about Indians. She ha d been one of them, but was no longer. Or had she gon e back to them? Many an Indian had, returning to he r own or his own people even after every opportunity t o stay among the whites. And wild Indians had bee n known to treat such Indians as they would a white ma n … or worse.
“She’s out, Barney. We’ve got to help her.”
“How? We haven’t seen her. And where would a ma n look?”
“She’d go to the sutler’s store. She lived there, yo u know. She’d feel responsible, I am sure.”
He looked down the length of the parade ground. I t was about 500 feet to the sutler’s store, and the parad e ground measured slightly over half of that. He felt somethin g grow cold within him. To walk down there unde r the guns of the Indians, and then to return with Mar y Tall Singer—if, indeed, she was there….
“Do you have any idea how much chance a ma n would have to make it?” he said.
“Not much,” she admitted. “Maybe I should go.”
“You’d have no chance at all,” he said. “You wouldn’t get halfway.”
They stood silent, and he looked down the field an d measured it in his mind with his strides. How man y strides before a bullet struck? How long would they wai t before striking? The Indian is a,warrior, and a warrio r respects the brave … would they wait to see if a ma n could walk that distance disdaining the danger? Woul d they be curious enough to test his courage? And did h e have the courage to make that walk?
How far was it? How many steps?
A slow lift of smoke came from the store’s chimney.
“She’s there, then,” Hopkins said. “She stayed to watc h my goods.”
“Or for some other reason,” Kells said. “You’re forgettin’ s he’s an Injun.”
Denise had come from the back of the building. “She i s an Indian, but she is loyal to us, too. I would not wan t her to turn against her own people, but I would neve r doubt her loyalty to us.”
“You don’t know Injuns, ma’am. They have no loyalt y for a white man… or woman.”
Kilrone continued to look down the parade groun d and felt the devil rising in him. He knew it was a wil d and crazy feeling, but the urge was there. It was a challenge… . Could he make it? Could any man? If h e started and then showed the least hesitation, the leas t sign of fear … Hell, they’d shoot him anyway. He wouldn’t get ten feet. It was a fool idea, the sort of ide a that could get a man killed. But there was a girl dow n there in that store, a girl the Indians might be likely t o kill.
If he started, how long would he have before somebod y got trigger-happy and started blasting? How lon g before somebody back in the ditch behind the buildin g decided to light a fuse? Or would they check that fus e and find out what he had done?
Nobody said anything, but they were looking dow n the same stretch that he was, and every one of them wa s thinking of Mary Tall Singer, a girl who had tried to g o the white man’s way, and whom they had deserted. I t would look that way, wouldn’t it?
Kilrone got to his feet. He stood his rifle beside th e window. “I’ll go get her,” he said.
“Don’t be a fool!” Kells said, getting up.
“You boys stand pat,” Kilrone said. “Don’t start an y shooting unless you have to.” His hand was on th e doorknob.
“Barney… Mr. Kilrone,” Betty said, “don’t.”
He opened the door and stepped outside and bega n walking toward the sutler’s store. He kept his eye s straight ahead, and as he walked he ran through hi s mind the words and tune of an old marching song. He knew the Indians were all around him, that they migh t at any moment decide to shoot, and that at any sign o f hesitation they certainly would.
He knew they were moving out from the building s onto the parade ground. One dashed his horse across i n front of Kilrone, but he kept marching. Not far ahead o f him now was the sutler’s store, and when he was abou t fifty steps away, the door suddenly opened and Mar y Tall Singer stood there, waiting for him.
He walked up to her. “I have come to take you with , me,” he said. “Will you come?”
She looked at him with dark, enigmatic eyes, then sh e walked down the steps. Coolly, he offered her his arm , and they started back up the parade ground. The distanc e seemed twice as far now. Suddenly half a doze n Indians on ponies raced across the field toward them.
Kilrone walked straight on, looking neither to right no r left, and the Indians, whipped by within inches of them.
Yet he went on, unflinching, the dark-haired girl at hi s side keeping pace. Again and again the Indians race d their horses at them, wheeling not a foot away.
Then all of a sudden an armed Indian stepped directl y in front of Kilrone, lance drawn back, and Kilron e walked right straight at him, looking into the cold blac k eyes. The point of the lance touched his breast, and h e moved it lightly aside with his left hand, brushing i t away as he might have brushed a cobweb or a leaf i n the forest.
Ahead of him Kilrone saw the door open a crack, th e merest crack. It would not be long now. He felt cold an d the hair on the back of his neck prickled; the muscle s between his shoulder blades seemed to tighten with th e expectation of a shot or an arrow. But still he kept on.
Suddenly, from behind the Headquarters buildin g there came a tremendous explosion, an explosion followe d by three quick, barking shots.
Kilrone turned sharply on the Indians behind him.
“Inside!” he hissed to Mary Tall Singer. “Get in .. Quick!”
An Indian threw a rifle to his shou
lder and instantl y Kilrone palmed his pistol and fired from the hip. Th e bullet smashed the Indian in the chest a split secon d before his own shot went off, but the rifle tilted with th e bullet’s impact and the Indian’s shot sailed off into th e air.
Kilrone backed to the door, holding his fire, and the n all the Indians seemed to be shooting at once. From th e time of the explosion until now was no more than a fe w seconds, but time had seemed to lag. Kilrone fired, sa w an Indian stagger, and then he leaped backward. Stumblin g over the step, he went through the door and it wa s slammed and barred behind him.
He went quickly through the room to the back. Teal e looked at him, his eyes glinting with hard humor. “Well , well! That’s more’n I’d have done for an Injun gal!”
Kilrone glanced at him. “Teale, you don’t fool me a bit. You’d have done it, and to hell with the price. I k now your kind.”
He gestured toward the ditch where he had plante d the explosive. “What happened?”
“Plenty … that explosion scared ‘em more’n it hurt , but I reckon it did for one, maybe two of the Injuns … a nd a white man tried to get away. He didn’t make it.”
“Good.”
The shooting was general now. There were no Indians j in sight, however. All were skillful fighters, and would I n ot waste themselves in any useless effort. They wante d victory, but they meant to win it without too great a cost.
Kilrone made the rounds, looking out of the windows.
The parade ground was empty. The Indian he ha d killed and at least one other killed or wounded had bee n carried away. So had any others who had been hurt. A s hot came from a window of the nearest barracks, anothe r from the corner of a building.
Beyond the parade ground and barracks clouds hun g low around the mountain shoulders, and within the building s was the smell of powder smoke. Now there wa s silence … no targets, no Indians only stillness.
Kilrone could see the corral, and the horses wer e gone. Had he noticed that before? He had, he was sure , but he could not remember when. He knelt by the window , waiting, rifle in hand, but nothing stirred. Once a bird flew down and lighted on the parade ground, peckin g at something in the dust. After a moment or two , taking alarm at something, it flew away.
They waited … and waited …
Half an hour went by … an hour. The Indians wer e looting the barracks. Somewhere they heard the crash o f glass, a window breaking.
Betty came with coffee and Kilrone sat down with hi s back to the wall and cupped it in his hands. Never ha d coffee tasted so good.
That was wonderful,” Betty said. “I mean, to go an d get Mary.”
“She had nerve. You know her hand on my arm neve r so much as trembled.”
He had been doing some calculating. Unless Rybol t was shrewd, or shot with luck, he and his payroll escor t were gone. Caught out in the open they wouldn’t have a chance … and the Indians would know they were corning.
What he was thinking about, however, was not s o much ab o ut it, as Major Paddock, Captain Mellett, an d the cavalry. They could not very well get back in les s than two days, and more likely it would be three … c ould they hold out that long here at the post?
But supposing they, too, had been attacked? Suppos e they had been wiped out? It would be weeks befor e help could come from elsewhere, even if their predicamen t was realized.
For the first time Kilrone began to think seriously o f escaping from the pos t
Chapter 11
Throughout the morning the firing was sporadic, wit h little result on either side. Fire from the three building s kept the Indians out of range most of the time, but no t without cost. One child was cut, not badly, by flyin g glass, and in the warehouse Mendel was wounded.
He was standing at a broken window trying to get a shot, when an Indian hidden nearby put a bullet into hi s hip, turning him for the second shot, which entered nea r his spine and emerged near the belt buckle.
Early in the afternoon there was a sudden explosio n on the hospital side … a mine that Kilrone had no t found, or one hidden since his exploration. The explosio n knocked a hole in the wall of the building an d killed Olson. For several minutes the Indians concentrate d a hot fire on the hole and then tried a rush.
Two Indians fell from shots by Lahey and Ryerson , and the attack broke. One of the Indians dropped nea r the wall, and with a sudden rush got close enough to b e out of range.
“We’ve got to get him,” Ryerson said. “He’s right alongsid e that hole. Any time we stop watching he can shoo t right into us.”
“You mean stick your head outsider” Lahey said. “Yo u try it, Sarge. Not me.”
Barney Kilrone crouched by the window. Somebod y was moving around in one of the barracks about a hundred and fifty feet away. He could occasionally see a swift shadow against the window, and from time to tim e he heard a yell from Indians who were looting there.
He waited, biding his time. Then he saw the shado w again and lifted his rifle, taking a careful sight. He too k up slack on the trigger, and felt the rifle leap in hi s hands as the shot went off. There was a crash of glas s and the Indian fell backward through the window, on e arm flailing wildly as he tried to catch the corner t o break his fall.
Kilrone worked the lever on his gun and as the India n hit the ground he fired into him. The Indian half rose , and then fell back.
“Watch him,” Kilrone said to Ryan. “They’ll try to ge t him away.”
He went back, staying close to the floor because of th e powder smoke in the room. Denise came to him whe n he entered the back room. “Are you all right, Barnes?”
“Where’s Rybolt’s wife?” he asked. “I want to talk t o her.”
“You sit here and get some coffee. She’ll be righ t over.”
Stella Rybolt crawled over to him. He gestured towar d the partition. “Sit down here with your back against tha t and have a rest. I want to talk to you.” He took th e coffee from Denise. “Tell me about your husband.”
“What about him?”
“I never met him, and I’d like to know how he thinks.
He must have talked a lot to you. I’m not promisin g anything, but I may try to get out and warn him.”
“Don’t try it, Mr. Kilrone. Gus would be the last t o expect it.”
“Tell me about him,” he repeated.
“Well,”-she hesitated-“Gus is a soldier, first, last , and always. He’s strict, but no martinet. He puts his dut y ahead of everything.” She turned her head to look har d at Kilrone. “That’s why you shouldn’t worry. His job is t o protect that payroll and to bring back his men, as man y of them alive and able as he can manage.”
“Does he know Dave Sproul?”
She gave him a sharp look. “Now, how d’ you mea n that? Of course he knows him. I know him, too, and I’m not proud of it. Gus doesn’t like him, if that’s what yo u mean.”
“Not exactly. Mrs. Rybolt, if Dave Sproul came ridin g up to him out there on the prairie, what would Gus dot^
“Do? I don’t know what you mean. Talk to him, I g uess. What else could he doP*
What else? She was right, of course. There was nothin g else he could do, and that was the trouble, for th e moment they stopped there would be danger. Kilron e could not believe that Sproul, being the man he was , would leave that payroll to chance.
If it vanished now it would be laid to an India n attack, and any investigation would start with that i n mind. But how would Dave Sproul manage it? An d where?
The closer by, the better. He would need to be awa y that much less time from Hog Town and his alibi, and i t would be in territory he knew well. But the risk wa s greater nearby in some ways, too. And who would h e use? Some of his own men?
Yet why should Sproul go himself? He was, as Kilron e knew from bitter experience, a man more than careful t o keep himself in the clear. It was not likely that he woul d himself ride out to stop Rybolt when he could have on e of his men do it, someone known to Rybolt or th
e others , and whom they would greet without suspicion.
But Sproul would be close by … trust him to keep a n eye on any gold. He would be close enough to watch, t o oversee the job. There must be many suitable place s along the route, but Sproul would choose a plac e reached by the payroll guard late in the afternoon, or a t least after the noon halt. He would want them to hav e eaten, to have ridden off any immediate zest they ma y have had, and be tiring. Sitting sleepy in the saddle , expecting no danger, the guard would be glad of th e short halt, and they would be sitting ducks for an ambush.
“What I mean is, would Gus be suspicious?”
“I don’t know what you’re gettin’ at. No, he wouldn’t be suspicious. Sproul’s out prospecting a good bit. Tha t is, Gus wouldn’t be more suspicious than usual. Gu s Rybolt isn’t a very trusting man when he has charge o f government property.”
She looked at him thoughtfully. “Mr. Kilrone, what i s it you’re getting at?”
“Call me a fool, if you like, but I would not b e surprised if, under the cover of this Indian fight, somebod y doesn’t try to get that payroll.”
“You mean Dave Sproul? He’d never dare. He know s Gus. He wouldn’t dare try it.”
“I don’t want to worry you, but I think Sproul woul d try if he thought he could get away with it. He wouldn’t try though, unless he had what he believed to be a fool-proof plan.”
She considered the idea. “I really don’t know. As I s aid, Gus isn’t trusting about government property, I k now that, and he’s very conscientious, but I reall y doubt that he’d suspect Dave Sproul of attempting a holdup.”
Kilrone went on talking quietly with Stella Rybol t She was a competent, rough-fibered woman and he ha d an idea that Gus Rybolt was the same—a good, sincere , and competent officer, but not one capable of matchin g cunning with Sproul. Yet Rybolt might be just the ma n to defeat Iron Dave. He might do it because of his ver y virtues, because he was tough, disciplined, and no gambler.
He might just not give Sproul that inch of leewa y he would need to pull it off.
Kilrone (1966) Page 9