Fort Revenge

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Fort Revenge Page 11

by J. R. Roberts


  As soon as he heard the rock hit, he started running. The brave was momentarily distracted, but then heard Clint coming toward him. He turned and his eyes widened. Rather than shout he tried to bring his rifle to bear, but Clint was on him and clubbed him with another rock. He never used his gun to club anyone. Too much chance it would be damaged. Guns were for shooting, not clubbing.

  The brave went down and lay still.

  Clint got back to their vantage point and found Heck waiting.

  “Mine’s tied up,” Clint said. “I didn’t want to kill him.”

  “Me neither,” Heck said. “Killing them would make sure that they’d come after us with bad intentions. Mine’s tied up, too.”

  “Okay,” Clint said. He had retrieved his rifle from his horse, and got down onto his belly. “I’ve got you covered from here.”

  “Wish me luck,” Heck said.

  “You don’t need luck,” Clint told his friend. “Just keep quiet.”

  “Right.”

  Heck faded into the darkness. Clint looked down on the camp. All he saw at that moment were the four white men, tied spread-eagled on the ground.

  All Heck needed was for someone to come out of one of the teepees at an inopportune moment.

  Clint realized then he didn’t know if Indians came out of their teepees to relieve themselves.

  FORTY-FOUR

  The Colter brothers had been tied so that even if they turned their heads, they could not see each other.

  “Gabe,” Joe called in a whisper. “Gabe? You awake?”

  “Of course I’m awake, you idiot,” Gabe said. “I’m tryin’ to get free.”

  “Me, too,” Joe said. “I can’t do it. They tie good knots, these Cherokee.”

  “We gotta get outta here!” Brett said, louder than his brothers.

  “Shut up, Brett!” Gene hissed. “You’ll wake up the camp and they’ll decide to kill us sooner.”

  That shut Brett up.

  “So whadda we do?” Joe asked.

  “We get outta here, that’s what we do,” Gabe said. “Everybody just keep tryin’ to get loose!”

  “What if we can’t?” Joe asked.

  “Joe,” Gabe said, “as soon as I’m free I’m gonna kick you in the ass. Just keep tryin’ !”

  Heck made his way down to the camp level, stopped, and listened. He had two choices: just move quickly and quietly through the camp, out in the open, and cut the men loose, or move along behind the teepee from one to the other, until he reached the center of camp. If he did that, though, somebody inside one of the teepees might hear him. He decided quick and quiet out in the open was the way to go. He took out his knife, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it for anything but cutting the Colters free.

  Clint watched as Heck Thomas moved into the camp. He was moving quickly and quietly right down the center. Anyone coming out of a teepee would spot him right away. Clint watched everything while sighting down the barrel of his rifle.

  Heck reached the four men.

  As Heck reached the four white men, he heard them whispering.

  “Quiet down!” he hissed as he crouched by one of them and started cutting him loose.

  “Who’s that?” one of them asked.

  “Shut up!” another hissed.

  “Which one are you?” Heck asked, cutting his man free.

  “Joe.”

  “Joe, I’m Heck Thomas. I’m getting you boys out of here.”

  Joe Colter sat up and stared at Heck’s badge.

  “Think about it,” Heck said. “Better me than these Cherokee, right?”

  “He’s right,” somebody said.

  Heck had an extra knife, smaller than his. He handed it to Joe.

  “Cut somebody loose.”

  Heck moved on.

  “Who’re you?” he asked.

  “Gabe.”

  “You heard what I said?”

  “Yeah, yeah, just get us out of here,” Gabe said.

  Heck cut him loose.

  Joe cut Brett loose and then he and Heck both cut Gene loose.

  “We gotta be quiet,” Heck said. He didn’t see the knife in Joe’s hand anymore. He wondered which Colter had it.

  “Which way?” Gabe asked.

  “That way,” Heck said. “Move.”

  As they turned to move, the flap of one of the teepees was thrown open and somebody stepped out.

  It was a small girl.

  Clint saw the teepee flap open and trained his rifle in it. When the little girl came out, he let out the breath he was holding. There was no way he could shoot her, even to keep her quiet.

  He was helpless.

  Heck looked at the little girl and held his finger to his lips.

  “Kill her,” Gabe hissed. “What are you waitin’ for?”

  “I’m not killin’ a little girl,” Heck said.

  “Gimme the knife. I’ll do it!” Gabe hissed.

  Heck grabbed him by the front of the shirt.

  “Nobody’s killin’ her. She’s too scared to make a sound.”

  In fact, that’s exactly what the little girl was doing.

  “Get your brothers out of here,” Heck said. “As long as I’m standin’ here, she’ll keep quiet. All the ponies are tied up at that end of camp.”

  “Let’s go!” Gabe said to his brothers.

  Heck looked back at the little girl, who was still staring at him and the knife in his hand.

  FORTY-FIVE

  The Colter brothers rushed through the camp toward the ponies. Heck remained where he was, staring down at the little girl. Clint watched all this from where he was.

  The Colters were probably going to take four Indian ponies and light out. Then he and Heck would have to run them down. But Heck still had to get out of camp alive. Clint knew his friend was not going to kill the little girl. What neither of them knew was whether or not the child was going to raise the alarm.

  Clint could either go and get the drop on the Colters before they could get away, or stay where he was and cover Heck.

  He decided to stay.

  Heck wasn’t sure what to do. In the end, he decided just to try to get the girl to go back into her teepee. Even if she woke her parents to tell them what was happening, he’d have time to get away.

  “It’s okay,” he said, waving at her. “Just . . . go back inside.” He hoped she’d understand that he was waving her back inside. Finally, her eyes still wide, she took a few steps back until she was inside the teepee, and let the flap fall back down.

  Heck ran!

  Clint waited a few seconds to see if an alarm was raised, but there wasn’t a sound. Apparently, the little girl still hadn’t gotten her voice back.

  He got up and ran to where he and Heck had left their horses.

  The Colters grabbed a pony each.

  “Shouldn’t we let them all go?” Gene asked.

  “Somebody might hear that many horses,” Gabe said. “Let’s just go. Walk the horse for a ways, and then we’ll mount up.”

  “Gabe?” Brett spoke up.

  “Yeah?”

  “I ain’t never rode without a saddle.”

  “Jesus,” Gabe said. “Just hold on to the horse’s mane!”

  They walked their horses some twenty yards and then mounted up.

  As Clint and Heck reached their horses, they could hear the Colters riding away.

  “We’re going to have to run them down in the dark,” Clint said.

  “We can just trail them,” Heck said, “and run them down in the daylight.”

  “That might not be easy,” Clint said. “Those surefooted Indian ponies might get them farther in the dark then we get.”

  “Well, I don’t want my horse breakin’ a leg!” Heck said.

  “Okay, you’re right. Are they armed?”

  “One of them’s got my spare knife,” Heck said. “Unless they found the lookout I tied up and took his rifle, they ain’t armed.”

  They both mounted up and looked toward camp.
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  “Still no alarm,” Heck said.

  “You must have scared the hell out of that little girl.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t shoot her,” Heck said. “Gabe Colter wanted me to kill her.”

  “We better get a move on before she decides to go ahead and scream.”

  They turned their horses and moved cautiously through the dark.

  By daylight, the Indian ponies had taken the Colters a good ways from the Cherokee camp.

  Gabe paused them so he could get his bearings.

  “You think they’re comin’ after us?” Joe asked.

  “Probably.”

  “What about Heck Thomas?” Brett asked. “He saved our lives. Why’d he do that?”

  “So he could take us back to Fort Smith to hang, that’s why,” Gabe said.

  Brett slid off his pony’s back. It wasn’t the first time.

  “Will you stay on that pony’s back!” Gabe snapped.

  “I tol’ you I ain’t never rid bareback before!” Brett whined.

  “If you slow us down, I’ll leave you here.”

  “Maybe we don’t care,” Gene said.

  “What?” Gabe asked.

  Gene slid down off his pony and faced his brother. “Maybe we don’t care if you leave us here. Maybe we don’t wanna follow you no more. Not after this.”

  “What are you talkin’ about?” Gabe demanded.

  “You almost got us killed, Gabe,” Gene said. “I don’t think I wanna do what you say no more.”

  “Why, you little whelp.” Gabe quickly got down from his pony. “You gonna defy me?” he demanded.

  “Yeah, Gabe,” Gene said, “I am.”

  They glared at each other.

  Gabe looked at Brett and Joe.

  “You two with him?” he demanded.

  “Well . . . he is right, Gabe,” Joe said. “You almost got us killed.”

  Brett didn’t know what to do, so he just watched.

  “You wanna be the new leader, Gene?” Gabe asked.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Gabe kicked at some stones on the ground.

  “Well, I guess you boys are right. I ain’t made such good decisions.” He looked at Gene and put out his right hand. “No hard feelin’s, kid. In fact, I’m proud that you’re makin’ a stand.”

  Gene hesitated, then stepped forward and took his brother’s hand.

  As they shook, Gabe’s left hand came out from behind him and buried Heck Thomas’s knife in Gene’s belly. The boy’s eyes went wide and then he slid to the ground. Gabe didn’t release his hand until he was prone.

  “Jesus, Gabe!” Joe cried. He dismounted and ran to his younger brother and turned him over. “You killed him.”

  “He deserved it,” Gabe said. “Now, come on.” Gabe leaped back on top of his pony.

  Joe just stared up at Gabe.

  “Well? You comin’ ?”

  Joe just stared and shook his head.

  Gabe looked at Brett, who was rubbin’ his sore backside with both hands.

  “Ah, ya’all can go to hell!” Gabe shouted. “I don’t need ya.”

  He kicked the pony in the side and rode off.

  FORTY-SIX

  When Clint and Heck came upon Joe and Brett Colter, they were still trying to dig a hole in the hard ground to bury their brother.

  “What happened here?” Heck asked.

  They looked up at him.

  “Gabe killed Gene,” Joe said. “We’re tryin’ to bury him but the ground’s too hard.”

  “Where’d Gabe go?” Heck asked.

  “He rode off in that direction.”

  “Is he armed?”

  “Just with the knife you give us.”

  “I’m sorry,” Heck said.

  Clint dismounted.

  “Come on,” he said, “we’ll tie your brother to that pony. We can bury him when we get to softer ground, or take him all the way to Fort Smith.”

  “You takin’ us back to Fort Smith to hang?” Joe asked.

  “We’re takin’ you back,” Heck said. “Whether or not you hang will be up to the judge.”

  “What about Gabe?” Brett asked.

  Heck looked off in the direction Gabe Colter had ridden.

  “Well, he’s riding into some of the most deserted country in the Territories with no water and just a knife. I don’t think he’s gonna get very far.”

  “You don’t want to go after him?” Clint asked.

  Heck thought a moment, then shook his head.

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “The judge’ll have to be satisfied with these two, and the probability that Gabe’s as good as dead. He’ll die out there, and that’s if the Wolf Clan don’t catch him.”

  “What if they catch us?” Joe asked.

  “We’re headin’ back to Fort Smith. Gabe’s ridin’ deeper into Indian country. We got guns, and I’m wearin’ a badge. Those Cherokee were put on this land by the law, and they got a healthy respect for it. I think we got a better chance of makin’ it, don’t you?”

  Clint didn’t have to figure whether his friend was right or not, it was Heck’s call.

  The pony Gabe Colter was riding went lame after half a day of pushing it. That left Gabe on foot, armed with his knife. Parched and hungry, he started off on foot, hoping to reach a water hole, or a settlement.

  Something.

  He found shelter beneath a rock formation and spent the night there, woke not only hungry and thirsty but cold from the night chill. As the day heated up, he wasn’t cold anymore. Just hungry and thirsty.

  Then he heard the horses. Finally, somebody who could help him. They sounded like they were behind him so he turned, and shielded his eyes from the sun. Off in the distance he saw more than a dozen riders coming toward him.

  As they got closer and closer he saw that they were Indians—probably Cherokee. Even more probably, Running Deer’s Wolf Clan.

  He fell to his knees, knowing his choices. If they caught him, they’d take him back, kill him, maybe torture him first.

  By the time the braves reached him, Gabe Colter had cut his own throat and bled out.

  Watch for

  TWO GUNS FOR VENGEANCE

  359th novel in the exciting GUNSMITH series

  from Jove

  Coming in November!

 

 

 


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