Headquarters was a shambles now, the windows an d door blocked with broken furniture, the floor littere d with empty shells. Broken boxes of ammunition la y about, and in the corners stood the barrels of water, th e supply already much lowered.
Kilrone stretched out on the floor beside Ryerson an d Lahey. Reinhardt, Teale, and Rudio were actuall y asleep, some distance away. Hopkins, Kells, and th e women stood guard at the windows.
He felt utter exhaustion. There was a dull, throbbin g ache in his head, complete weariness in every muscle. He lay still, his eyes closed, trying to think.
He believed it was unlikely the Indians would tr y again to enter through the roof. But somebody migh t still be alive up there. This was probably so, and a liv e Indian, especially a wounded one, was a dangerous Indian.
Yet if they wished to escape, that was the way the y had to go.
He thought again of Gus Rybolt, headed this way an d not far off now, riding forward unsuspectingly with hi s guard of six men. Iron Dave Sproul himself or som e trusted envoy could meet the detail in a likely spot fo r an ambush. Kilrone felt quite sure that Sproul woul d send somebody else, some expendable man, and let hi m be killed along with the others. He would use Indians , for they would prefer the rifles he had to the money i n the wagon.
The chances were the man would be sent to war n Rybolt. Sent to a specific place where there would be a n excuse for him to wait and not ride on. That woul d mean a cross-place that offered concealment for a goo d body of Indians; a chance for one quick, smashing volley , with several guns aimed at each man. The whol e thing could be over in a matter of minutes, Rybolt an d his guard massacred, Sproul’s messenger dead, or if h e did get away, only able to say that he had been sen t there to warn Rybolt.
The more Kilrone thought of it, the more he believe d this was what would happen. He hoped he was wrong , but he could not make himself believe it.
And how long before help would arrive here at th e post? There was no calculating on that. If they starte d back at once … if they took a leisurely or a hurrie d pace … if they were not attacked themselves …
It would be one day more … two days … And whe n they arrived there would still be four or more Indian s for every white soldier.
But Paddock would be sober; and sober, he was a good soldier. And Mellett would be there, a fightin g veteran who knew what to do and when to do it.
He was dead-tired, weary in every part of his body.
And Barnes Kilrone, ex-officer in the Army of th e United States, thinking of these things, fell asleep a t last.
Betty came to him with a blanket and stretched i t over him. Denise Paddock looked at her and smile d wanly. “He is a good man, Betty, one of the best A goo d man and a gentleman.”
Betty looked down at him soberly. “I think so,” sh e said, “but I don’t think he has even noticed me.”
“Don’t be foolish! Barnes Kilrone never missed seein g a pretty woman in his life. Particularly,” Denise added , “if she had good legs, and yours are beautiful.”
Betty flushed. “I don’t think he knows I’m alive,” sh e said.
“He’s been rather busy,” Denise said dryly; “give hi m time.” She looked over at Kilrone. “This is his Me, yo u know. I know of no man so trained and conditioned fo r fighting. I mean mentally conditioned. Frank himself ha s often said that. I think one of the reasons why h e believes I still love Barnes is because he admires him s o much. He said he never knew a man with such a n immediate and instinctive grasp of a battle situation.”
Alice Dunivant came up to them. “Mrs. Paddock,” sh e said, “please get some rest. I can take care of Tim.”
Betty glanced around, suddenly remembering the India n girl.
Mary Tall Singer sat huddled in a corner, a blanke t over her head. She sat very still, staring at the floor. He r features were dimly visible in the vague light from th e shielded kerosene lantern on the floor. Betty remembere d then that she had neither moved nor spoken sinc e being brought to Headquarters by Kilrone. The though t worried her. Yet these were her people who were ou t there, and some of them had died up there in the loft.
It was not a good thing to think about. And Mar y must now be wondering where she belonged—in her e with her adopted people, or out there with the Indians.
When Denise had gone to lie down, Alice Dunivan t came over to stand beside Betty. It was very quiet now.
No sound or movement came from above. Alice kep t looking up at the ceiling. “I wonder if any of them ar e still alive?” she said. “It’s horrible to think of them u p there dead or dying.”
*Tt would be worse to think of them down here … a live,” Betty replied shortly. “That would be the last o f us.”
“I know. I wonder how he thought of it. I mean , shooting through the ceiling like that You would think a board would stop a bullet.”
“One of these rifles or pistols will easily shoot throug h boards like that. I have heard Uncle Carter talkin g about it.”
Barney Kilrone slept for two hours. A struggle at th e door awakened him—a struggle, followed by a sho t He lunged to his feet. Kells was fighting with tw o Indians who were forcing their way through the door. A t that moment there was an explosion in the inner room.
Kilrone palmed his gun and fired, his bullet smashin g one of the Indians back into the darkness from which h e had come. Kells fell, and the other Indian leaped pas t him and into the room. In an instant the doorway wa s filled with them.
The Indian who had leaped into the room, a warrio r of powerful build, had grabbed Betty as she came runnin g from the other room and spun her toward him.
From the corner of his eye Kilrone saw that, but he ha d no time to act on that, for he had opened up with hi s six-shooter on the packed mass, struggling to get into th e room.
Teale, who also had been sleeping, lunged in, swingin g his clubbed rifle. The butt struck an Indian on th e skull, and Teale, grasping the rifle with both hands , waded in, striking first with one end, then the other.
Kilrone, shoving his empty gun into its holster, whippe d his bowie knife from its sheath and closed with th e nearest Indian. Behind him he heard a scream … h e dared not turn. If once the Indians broke through thi s door the battle would be lost. They would all be “dea d within minutes, including the women and children in th e other room.
Suddenly the attack broke. One last Indian at th e door swung at him with a knife and Kilrone parried th e blade with his own, then lunged, the knife’s cutting edg e up. It sank into the Indian’s belly, and he ripped i t upward, the keen, heavy blade cutting through th e breastbone. The Indian fell forward and, grasping hi m by the hair, Kilrone pitched him back out of the door.
Swiftly, they repiled the broken door and broken furnitur e across the opening. Only then could Kilrone turn.
The Indian who had gotten into the room was dead.
He lay sprawled on the floor, the back of his skul l crushed.
“She did it,” Betty said, indicating Mary Tall Singer.
“He would have killed me.”
The Indian girl had ripped the Indian’s own tomahaw k from his belt and struck him with it. She still hel d it now, looking down at the dead man. “I know him,” s he said. “He came often to my father’s lodge.”
‘It was a brave thing you did,” Kilrone said quietly, “a very brave thing.”
Martha Whitman and Alice Dunivant were kneelin g beside Kells. The teamster was in a bad way. A bulle t had gone through his body and his skull had taken a wicked blow from a tomahawk or hand-axe.
Kilrone went from window to window. The hours o f darkness grew fewer, and still he had not decided wha t to do. Did he dare make an attempt to break out t o Warn Rybolt of what was coming? Did Rybolt need th e warning? Barring something unforeseen, Gus Rybol t would be coming into the likely ambush area within th e next twelve hours.
Did he dare even think of leaving here when th e defenders and their defenses were growing more an d mo
re battered? Every rifle would count. Yet he migh t get a messenger off from Rybolt to Paddocksomething , anything, to speed him up.
He would need a horse. That meant getting one fro m the Indians; or better still, one from Hog Town. Ther e should be horses there, for there had been no signs o f fighting in that direction, and no flames.
But before he could think of leaving, they must mov e to the warehouse and carry on what fighting they had t o do from there. His original idea of defending all thre e buildings had been good enough then, but it was n o longer so. If they intended to protect the rifles an d ammunition from Medicine Dog, they could only do i t from the warehouse. And whatever was to be done mus t be done soon.
Kells and Ryerson were out of action, and in th e warehouse Mendel was in as bad a state. Every fe w minutes a bullet smashed through one of the windows o r the door and ricocheted across the room. So far the y had done no damage.
He looked up at the trap door, wondering what th e chances were. What if there was an Indian alive u p there? An Indian with a breath of life in him neve r stopped fighting. Nonetheless, if the move was to b e made it must be from roof to roof.
Teale came up to him. “Cap, if you’re thinking what I t hink you’re thinking, you better have another think.”
“What do you mean?”
“The moon, Cap Kilrone, the moon. It’ll be comin’ u p within the hour. Once that moon’s in the sky, you ain’t got a chance.”
He was right, of course, and there was a good chanc e the Indians were waiting for that moon. They probabl y had plans. The Bannocks did not mind fighting at night—n ot Medicine Dog’s men, at least.
“Denise, get Sergeant Ryerson and Kells ready. The y will have to go first, then the children.”
“Without their mothers?”
“No, they will have to go, too.” He turned. “Reinhardt , are you a builder? I think I heard somebody say you’d been a carpenter?”
“Yes, sir. That’s right.”
Briefly, quickly, he explained. “Rudio, you take th e door. Keep your eyes open all the time. Hopkins, you g o to the back window again. Teale, you work around fro m window to window. Shoot at anything that moves ou t there.”
There was a stepladder in the closet. Kilrone got i t out, took his gun in his right hand, and went up th e ladder. While the others waited tensely, he eased th e trap door to one side. Nothing happened. He hesitated , feeling the cold sweat down his spine. When he stuc k his head up there he might get a bullet through it. He glanced down at the upturned faces, showing faintl y pale in the gloom. Teale had his rifle lifted, ready for a shot.
Kilrone hesitated a moment longer, then removed hi s hat, put it on the point of his pistol and lifted it slowly.
Nothing happened.
He knew suddenly that he’d made a mistake. If ther e was anyone up there they would be watching not onl y for his head to appear, but listening for the grate of hi s foot on the stepladder or for the creak of the ladde r rung.
Again he started to lift the hat, and as he did so he le t his boot slide off the rung and lift. Instantly a gu n bellowed, his hat jerked on the gun muzzle, and in tha t same instant Teale fired and Kilrone went through th e trap door with a lunge.
The Indian was no more then ten feet away, and a s he started to rise the movement stirred against the ceilin g and Teale fired again. There was a jerk and th e thump of a heel, then a slow exhalation of breath … a nd silence.
Through the trap to the roof Kilrone could see tw o stars, and a broad sky. Shielding the glow with his hand , he struck a match.
There were four Indians, all dead. He blew out th e match, then eased himself through the trap roof. The ai r was fresh and cool. He lay still a moment, breathin g deeply; then he slid along the roof to the parapet , gingerly lifting his head, expecting the concussion of a blow at any instant. All remained dark and still, with a few scattered clouds overhead and many stars.
Across the twelve-foot space, the roof of the warehous e seemed equally empty.
Was the sky already lighter from the moon? Or wa s that his imagination? Did they dare risk it?
In any event, there was little time left. The bodies o f the four Indians were brought up and tumbled from th e roof; the joists were ripped out and lowered into positio n to span the gap between the two buildings. Fou r joists were laid a few inches apart, with cross-pieces tie d in place with rawhide string. The bridge they made wa s flimsy, and it was dangerous, but that was a chance the y had to take. They worked swiftly, helped from time t o time by one of the other men, and by the women. Wel l within the hour they had brought the children one b y one to the roof-top.
“I will go first,” Denise said. “It will be better if I tr y it, and the children can come to me on the other side.”
She got down on her hands and knees and crawle d across. After a moment, they sent the first child across , with Martha Whitman close behind. The others followe d carefully, one by one.
Now the sky was growing faintly gray. There wa s little time left.
“Get Ryerson and Kells,” Kilrone said.
He had kept that till the last, knowing the risk ther e would be in moving the two wounded men. It would b e a slow process, and the feeble bridge might even collaps e under them.
“How will you do it, Cap?” Ryerson asked. “I am a heavy man.”
“Well slide you on a plank. We don’t have a stretcher , and the plank is narrow, but if you lie still and help t o balance yourself, I think we can do it.”
And they did.
At the end, there were six of them remaining in th e Headquarters building.
“All right, Hopkins. You first*
“Look, Kilrone.”
“You first, I said. No nonsense now. There’s no time t o waste.”
Hopkins went, and they could watch him all the wa y across. How had the Indians missed seeing them, Kilron e wondered. They must be watching, and now it could b e only a matter of minutes …
“Rudio, quickly nowl Then Reinhardt, then Lahey.”
“Saving me to last, Kilrone?” Teale grinned at him.
“Figure I’m the one you could lose best? The world’s better off without me, or something like that?”
“Hell, nol You’re the man I want with me if we have t o make a fight of it.” Lahey was already crawling out o n the makeshift bridge, close on Reinhardt’s heels.
The Indians saw them then, and a dozen rifles fired a t once. Kilrone, on his knees on the roof behind the parapet, saw the dawn blossom with spots of fire from th e rifles, and he shot quickly, firing at the flash. Teale wa s down beside him.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Rudio ha d made the roof, saw him wheel and open fire, “saw hi s body jerk with the impact of bullets—and then saw hi m fall forward and slip slowly from sight behind the parapet.
Teale fired a quick shot, ran, and dropped to his knee , firing again a bit to the left of a brown shoulder he saw.
Kilrone, behind their parapet, waited, hearing the ugl y sound of ricocheting bullets and, against the wall belo w him, the thud of their strike.
He glanced over at Teale. “Think you could run ove r that?”
Teale grinned. “Ain’t no other way, Kilrone. You wit h me?”
“You go first,” Kilrone said. “I hope that thing doesn’t fold up under you.”
Teale reloaded his rifle, took a look at the narro w bridge, and crouched, ready. In the growing light the y could see that the outer joist had developed a long split.
There was an obvious sag in the middle, which mean t that one of the other joists might also be broken. It wa s likely that only the crawling movement of those who ha d gone before had saved the makeshift contrivance; fo r by crawling, their weight was stretched over a wide r area and did not put so much strain on the bridge. Bu t now it was no longer a matter of crawling. Their onl y chance was in running.
Teale braced himself, then suddenly he was moving.
He went up in a charging lunge;
one foot hit the top o f the parapet and the other hit the bridge almost four fee t out. Instantly a terrific cannonade of shooting broke ou t as the Bannocks tried to get him. He was running full-til t now. His second stride carried him another four feet, bu t when his boot hit the bridge there was an ominous crac k and the bridge broke under him. He caught the edge o f the parapet ahead and threw himself over as hand s reached to help him.
Barney Kilrone crouched alone on the roof. They ha d him now. Could he jump the twelve feet? Without th e parapet, he was sure he could have done it, but with i t there was no chance for a running start, which he woul d need.
Suddenly there was a yell, and he saw Reinhard t pointing. Down the parade ground was a mass of horses , at least two hundred of them, and with shrill yells an d shots the Indians were starting them again, to repea t their charge of the previous day.
Teale!” Kilrone shouted.
The ex-cowboy turned and he called across to him.
I’m going to warn Ryboltl” He called just loud enoug h for Teale to hear him, and he did.
Wheeling, Kilrone darted to the trap door and wen t down the ladder, and ran swiftly to the window tha t opened on the gap between the buildings. The horse s were coming now, and behind them a hundred charging , yelling Indians.
Dropping his rifle, he crouched by the window. Goin g through the gap there would be a time when the horse s would jam up. He had taken many a flying mount, an d this would not be hard … if he was not seen.
They came with a rush, and he threw himself fro m the window at a big gray. He caught the mane , mounted, and slid off to the side, only one leg across th e horse’s back, Indian fashion.
The horse burst through on the other side and wen t charging in a mass_ toward the brush and the plain s beyond, and as they hit the brush Kilrone rolled over o n his horse’s back and slapped him with his palm.
Had he been seen? There was no telling, and s o many shots had been flying that he could not tell if an y were aimed at him. The big gray was one horse in a mass of others.
Charging into the thicker brush, he guided the hors e and suddenly turned at right angles, and instead o f rushing straight ahead with the rest, he rode south , keeping the wall of brush between himself and th e fighting Indians. Their eyes, though, were directe d toward the fort, away from him.
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