“Bring me those two army deserters,” he said to Lockwood.
It didn’t take long before Jack McRyan and Dennis Costello were muscled out of the crowd and pushed in front of the Comanchero chief.
“The prisoners have escaped,” Lazardo said.
“We didn’t do it!” Costello shrieked as pictures of himself and McRyan dangling over a fire danced through his head.
McRyan added his own protests, saying, “We hadn’t even been over here since we was on guard last. Honest, Mr. Lazardo!”
“You are not being accused of anything,” Lazardo snapped. “I am certain you are incapable of such a clever plan. It had to be the soldiers.”
McRyan was relieved he was not going to be blamed for anything. He sneered. “I told you, you should have let me kill that son of a bitch Douglas.”
Lazardo hit him hard, knocking him sideways. Lockwood cuffed him the other way, and Big Joe hit him in the back of the head.
Dennis Costello, not wanting the same rough treatment, cringed. “I didn’t say nothing!”
McRyan did not even groan at the unexpected pain. He decided to avoid further abuse by staying silent and to simply reply to whatever was said to him.
“That sergeant did not lead the prisoners out,” Lazardo said. “Someone broke in first to show them the way. I can tell from the way the logs on the outside row have been parted. Now you tell me about the rest of those soldiers, and what sort of man leads them.”
“Yes, sir,” McRyan said. “There’s this lieutenant by the name o’ MacRoss that’s the commanding officer. He’s got that sergeant, a coupla corporals, and three troopers. Remember? I told you about how many they was, Mr. Lazardo.”
Lazardo thought a moment as he recalled what McRyan had previously told him. “That is only seven men. Actually, six with the sergeant in the stockade.” He paced back and forth. “But that would be enough to let the horses loose to divert us, then kill these two stupid guards and lead the prisoners out.”
“He prob’ly done it all about the same time,” Lockwood suggested. “That’s the way I’d do it.”
“You are right,” Lazardo said. “A daring plan that called for careful thought and risk. Perhaps that officer was in love with the beautiful blonde, eh?”
Costello piped up. “I don’t think so, Mr. Lazardo. She was ’fianced to a Russian.”
Lazardo shook his head. “I don’t think either of you would recognize true affection for a woman. I am sure the American officer came for her.”
“We got to get ’em all back, that’s for sure,” Lockwood said.
“Yeah,” Big Joe said. “That’s a hell of a lot o’ money that went through that wall.”
“It is a great amount when one considers the ransom for the noblewoman,” Lazardo said. He was also concerned about his reputation if the deed went unavenged. In the Comanchero world, that would be perceived as a weakness on his part. Numerous, serious challenges to his leadership were certain to be made if he didn’t round up the escapees and punish whoever had freed them.
Big Joe asked, “Where do you think he’d take ’em?” Lazardo glared at McRyan and Costello. “Well! You idiots! Where would the army officer take them?”
“There’s a post called Fort Scott that’s about a hundred miles away,” McRyan said. “I never been there, but I know it’s due east o’ here. I heard the others talking about it. My pal Costello went there once.”
“That’s right,” Costello said. “I was on a supply detail that took some stuff there from Fort Leavenworth between blizzards last winter.”
“What sort of a place is this Fort Scott?” Lazardo asked.
“There’s a lot o’ soldiers posted there that could help the lieutenant,” Costello said. “I’d say a coupla comp’nies o’ dragoons and one o’ infantry. They even got a cannon.”
“It’s a hundred miles, is it?” Lazardo asked.
“Yes, sir,” Costello assured him.
That pleased Lazardo. “We should be able to catch them since most are on foot.”
“If I know that lieutenant, he won’t leave them prisoners behind neither,” McRyan said. “He’ll stick with ’em to the bitter end.”
“So much the better,” Lazardo said.
“There ain’t gonna be no trouble catching ’em, Mr. Lazardo,” Big Joe remarked.
“That’s right. I’ll pull out a bunch o’ the boys,” Lockwood said.
“Do it now,” Lazardo said. “I am personally going to lead this chase.”
“The first’uns is gonna be these two soldier boys,” Lockwood said.
McRyan and Costello nodded their mutual agreement. “I hope I can kill that sergeant and lieutenant,” McRyan said with a hopeful tone in his voice.
“I think I’ll let you do that to the sergeant,” Lazardo said. “But that lieutenant is mine to deal with. Believe me, he will be begging me to end his life before I am done.”
Lockwood turned and gazed into the Comancheros who had gathered around. He began to holler names, “Crazy Fox! Morales! Lop-Head! Marais! Cordova! Tarheel! Runs Fast! Lefty Dan! Faro.”
Each man responded with an upraised hand as his name was called, then shouldered his way to the front of the crowd.
After handpicking good men, Lockwood and Big Joe began choosing others they didn’t know too well by grabbing the Comancheros and pushing them to the front. At that point, they just wanted some extra guns to go along. They picked ten for a total of twenty-one. With the two of them and Lazardo, that would mean twenty-four total going after seven dragoons and some unarmed prisoners that included women and children.
Those chosen waited expectantly for whatever Lazardo would have to say to them. The leader quickly got down to business.
“We might be gone two or three days,” Lazardo said. “There’s gonna be some killing and prisoners taken. Other soldiers might come in on this, so be ready for that, too. I’ll meet you on the east side of the river in one hour. Don’t be late.”
The chosen men wasted no time in rushing off to their dwellings to prepare for the mission. Guido Lazardo did not appreciate tardiness. Slow or careless conduct had led to a lingering execution on more than one occasion within the band of Comancheros.
By the time Lazardo had prepared himself and his horse for the mission and ridden over to the river, he found Monroe Lockwood, Big Joe, and the other twenty-one Comancheros already waiting. Without hesitating, the chief motioned them to follow as he galloped across the shallows of the river and came out on the other side.
“Find their tracks!” he shouted.
This set about a flurry of activity as the men spread out, heads bent low as they studied the ground. It was the one called Tarheel who found the trail.
“Over here!” he called out in his North Carolina accent. “They’re a-headed dead east like McRyan and Costello said they would.”
“Lead on, Tarheel,” Lockwood commanded. “The sooner we catch ’em, the better.”
The trail continued out of the trees along the bank and led the Comancheros across open country to another grove of trees that grew along a small creek. The soldiers and their Russian friends seemed to have waded across the creek and kept to their eastern course. That satisfied Lazardo as a good sign that they were trying to make it to the safety of Fort Scott.
“Ever’body keep your eyes open!” Big Joe called out. “Soldiers ain’t stupid. They might set up an ambush to hit us.”
“Yes,” Lazardo yelled. “Remember! The prisoners are on foot. They won’t be moving as fast as we will.”
The Comancheros, though not acting under formal field orders, spread out instinctively to provide security for themselves as they followed the trail laid out through the prairie grass. For over an hour, the determined pursuers kept moving along, expecting to see their quarry at almost any moment.
Then the trail abruptly stopped.
“What the hell is going on?” Lazardo demanded to know.
Both Lockwood and Big Joe slipped out
of their saddles and squatted down to study the strange situation. Big Joe slowly shook his head back and forth as he pointed to some grass blades bent the other way.
“They doubled back,” he said. “See?”
“I sure do,” Lockwood said. He stood up and waved over at Lazardo. “This is a false trail to lead us off, Mr. Lazardo. We got to go back to that creek and start all over again.”
Lazardo was furious. “Tontos! Fools! Bouffons! Sciocci!”
Big Joe whispered, “Let’s get moving quick before he decides to shoot somebody.”
“Amen!” Lockwood agreed.
They quickly mounted up and turned back, heading out at a gallop. The other Comancheros wisely followed their lead as Lazardo followed, his temper boiling over.
“You better not do this again, any of you!” he threatened.
When they reached the creek, Lockwood and Big Joe once more dismounted. They walked up and down the waterway several times, but could find no tracks. Lazardo rode up and stayed in the saddle, watching his two chief lieutenants try to figure out what had happened.
“They obviously walked in the creek,” Lazardo said. “It is not deep.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Lazardo,” Lockwood said. “But we can’t figger out which direction.”
Lazardo was thoughtful for several moments. “This lieutenant fellow is clever and brave. I am trying to put myself in his place to think what he must have done.”
“He prob’ly went south a ways, then turned east toward Fort Scott,” Lockwood said.
“That is exactly what he wants us to think after you fell for the false trail he laid out,” Lazardo said. “But I don’t believe he did that. In my opinion, our lieutenant has headed north.”
“North!” Big Joe exclaimed. “It’s way too far to Fort Leavenworth to try to get there, even if he did fool us.”
“I did not say he went to Fort Leavenworth,” Lazardo said. “I don’t think that is his destination at all.”
“Then, where in hell would he go?” Lockwood asked.
“Back to that Russian town we raided,” Lazardo said. “The very least thing we would expect. “
Lockwood slowly smiled. “By God, Mr. Lazardo, you’re right!”
“We will ride alongside this creek to the north until we find where our prisoners have been led out onto the open prairie,” Lazardo said.
“The sooner we start, the sooner we get our hands on ’em,” Big Joe said. He climbed back into the saddle. Catching sight of McRyan and Costello, he yelled over at them, “Hey! You two are gonna have a chance to kill that sergeant before tomorrow’s sun sets.”
“Don’t forget the lieutenant,” McRyan reminded him. “We want to watch Mr. Lazardo do a job on him.”
Lazardo laughed. He was now in a good mood. “That is fine! I will make sure I put on a good show. Afterward, when Lockwood tires of the big woman, she will be yours.”
“Yeah!” Lockwood yelled out. “I got first dibs on her!”
The Comancheros all laughed and hollered at each other as Lockwood and Big Joe began leading them northward along the creek.
It looked like there would be a lot of fun in the next couple of days.
Sixteen
The day had been brutal for the Russians, who had weakened much since the attack on Nadezhda.
After the hard trek down from the settlement to the Comanchero camp, they had endured indifferent feeding and bullying by their captors. Now, after being led through the stockade walls to freedom, their physical conditions were not much better. The dragoons had nothing much to offer them outside of true friendship and concern, but that extra care and consideration seemed to help them along after the mistreatment from the Comancheros.
All the troopers, with the exception of Paddy O’Hearn on the point, walked. Their horses were used mostly by the six children, but now and again one of the four boys switched off to allow the women a chance to sit in the saddle. The soldiers also shared their field rations with the Russians, but that food was growing scarce now that they had been away from Fort Leavenworth for much more time than originally planned.
The one thing that worked in the Russians’ favor was the fact they were peasant stock. Even the children had known at least a couple of years of famine or drought, so going long periods without proper nourishment was nothing new to them. No one born in a serfs kizhina survived past infancy unless they had a naturally strong constitution. The nice and warm spring weather helped them along, conserving the extra calories that would have been needed to keep warm in the Russian wilderness. This made the food shortage less of a problem.
The peasant men, stoic and seemingly unable to feel the sensations of pain or fatigue, simply moved along, dull-eyed but cheerfully obedient to the motions and hand gestures of the dragoons. They responded to the soldiers’ encouragement of kind words and friendly grins with smiles of gratitude.
Basil Karshchov and Natalia Valenko, walking hand in hand most of the time, demonstrated the same care and concern for the others. But Natalia fast began to show the physical and emotional strain she had been under, and seemed to be fading. Basil saw to it that she spent a lot of time in the saddle in spite of her protests. He was helped somewhat by Irena Yakubovski, who physically grabbed the smaller woman and set her upon a horse on several occasions when she protested traveling the easy way.
Lieutenant Gavin MacRoss and Sergeant Ian Douglas walked together, casting glances all around as they watched the flanks, O’Hearn up ahead, and the Russians. The two shared a hell of a lot of responsibility which years of frontier soldiering made them take seriously.
“We been damn lucky, sir,” Douglas said.
“Are you trying to make a point?” Gavin asked.
“Just that we ain’t gonna keep this up much longer,” Douglas said.
Gavin felt a flash of temper. “Goddamn it! I know we can’t, Sergeant. Like I asked—what is your point?”
“I’m just saying that we’re gonna have to get ready for the worst,” Douglas said without being ruffled. “Our situation calls for some real planning and action.”
“All we can do is try our damndest,” Gavin said. “Sorry about snapping at you.”
“Oh? Did you snap at me, sir?” Douglas asked.
Gavin winked at the sergeant as he checked his watch. “It’ll be evening soon, and we’re going to have to stop.”
“Yes, sir,” Douglas said. “Them kids is sturdy little shits, but we can’t put ’em on a forced march. The women is doing fine ifin they can ride now and then.”
“The men seem to be doing quite well,” Gavin said. “At least they seem in fine shape.”
“Yes, sir,” Douglas agreed. “But, to tell you God’s truth, I don’t know for how much longer.”
“All except Irena,” Gavin said. “She could probably out walk any of us if she had to.”
“And that includes our horses,” Douglas added with a chuckle.
They walked on in silence for another mile or so, before Douglas said, “Them Comancheros is gonna catch up with us tomorrow.” The only reason he mentioned it was because he thought it necessary to discuss the trouble they were sure to face.
“Yeah,” Gavin said. “That’s just about the way I have it figured out, too.”
“Any idea how we’re gonna handle the situation, sir?” the sergeant asked.
“Not the slightest,” Gavin answered. “What about you?”
“I can’t think of nothing,” Douglas admitted.
“Perhaps a patrol from Fort Leavenworth will find us,” Gavin mused.
“Sir, you know them patrols don’t come this far south o’ the Santa Fe Trail,” Douglas reminded him.
Gavin nodded and said, “Maybe Fort Scott—”
“Not this far west,” Douglas said.
“I guess we don’t have much of a chance, Sergeant,” Gavin said.
“I don’t reckon as we got any a’tall,” Douglas replied. Gavin glanced around. “My God! There is absolutely no cover or shelte
r out here. I can’t see as much as a gully to get down into.”
“We’ll be spending this night in the open,” Douglas said. “We’ll have to keep sharing our canteens with the Russians ’til we find a creek or river.”
“At any rate, let’s push on,” Gavin said. “There’s nothing to be gained by lagging along. Who knows? We might get lucky somehow.”
“Not likely, sir,” Douglas said.
“Not likely, Sergeant,” Gavin agreed.
The sad, tired group continued with only brief rest periods for the remainder of the day. Only when the dusk had grown so gloomy that it was difficult to see, did Gavin order a halt. He called in O’Hearn and had Douglas gather the other dragoons around him.
“We’re out in the open without the slightest bit of cover or concealment as you can see,” Gavin told his men. “For that reason, we’re going to be on fifty percent alert all through the night, or at least as close as we can come to it.”
Corporal Steeple glanced over at the Russians, who sat in a silent group in the grass. “D’ye think we could use some o’ them for guard?” he asked.
Gavin shook his head. “They don’t speak English, and I’m afraid that eventually exhaustion is going to set in on them. As a matter of fact, I want all our blankets to go to the women and children. Any that are left over can be used by the men.”
“Be glad to, Lieutenant,” Paddy O’Hearn said.
Carlson added, “Happy to oblige ’em, sir.”
“Thank you, men,” Gavin said. “I knew you would want to comfort these poor folks as much as possible.”
Basil Karshchov joined them. “I am here to help. Did I hear you say guard duty?”
“Right, Basil,” Gavin answered. “You, Carlson, Corporal Steeple, and I will be one relief. Sergeant Douglas, Corporal Murphy, Carlson, and O’Hearn will be the other.”
“Mind if my group is the second, sir?” Douglas asked. “I like to be the last so’s I can wake ever’body up.”
“A sergeant’s prerogative, hey?” Gavin said. “Request granted. I’ll let you handle passing out the rations and drinks of water from canteens, too.”
Comanchero Blood (A Dragoons Western Book 2) Page 16