by F. M. Worden
Sam had seen young Lieutenants like this one before.
“Damn right he will,” the Captain said in a positive manner. The Lieutenant turned on his heels and went back in the office without uttering a word.
The Captain said he would have the patrol in the saddle within the hour. “What do you need to go Sam?”
“I have to go to Tucson, where can I meet the Troop?”
“They’ll take the wagon road east to the rail road and camp at the Vail Station, it’s a water and wood stop, a material storage yard for the rail road, you can meet them there.”
“I’ll be there some time before first light in the morning,” Sam said as he reined the Dunn around and went out the gate and on the road to Tucson.
Sam pushed the Dunn hard. He rode into Manuel’s just at dark, and asked if he could use a fresh mount. “It’s government business, you’ll be well paid.”
“For you Sam, you can have my best horse any time.”
Sam asked Manuel to put his saddle on the horse. “I’ll be right back.”
He took the valise and saddle bags with him and hurried up to the house. Dolores was in the kitchen. “Can you put some food in my bags? I have to make a trip tonight.”
“What’s your hurry Sam?”
“I have to go, I have to go now.” He called back to her as he hurried to his room. He rolled a serape off the bed, got his heavy coat and a box of 44 cartridges, returned to the kitchen, Dolores had his saddle bags ready, he thanked her and hurried out the door.
Rosa was coming home as he passed her, she asked, “Where you going Sam?”
“Government business, I have to go now.”
She begged, “Let me go with you Sam.”
She had a hold of his arm, he pulled away saying, “You can’t go, I have to go alone.”
As he left he heard her cry, “Let me go, let me go with you Sam.”
At the barn Manuel had a big blue roan gelding saddled and waiting. As Sam tied the saddle bags, serape and coat on the saddle, he asked Manuel, “How’s the best way to Vail Station?”
Manuel told him he could cut east across the desert or follow the tracks.
“Which will get me there the fastest?”
“Across the desert,” Manuel said. “If you get lost, just head south you’ll hit the tracks, follow them they’ll take you there.”
“I’ll go the fastest way.” He bid him “Adios.”
Sam headed the roan east at a long trot, he rode in total darkness, the moon hadn’t come up, he rode thru sand washes, sage bush, mesquite, paloverde trees and grease wood there was lots of pad and barrel cacti. He had to rely on his mount to keep the direction. Once he came out of a wash, they had to fight their way thru catclaw bushes that tore at both rider and horse, Sam cussed under his breath, “God must love cactus and thorns he made so much in this country.”
The moon came up, he could see the wild life using the darkness to hunt, a bobcat crossed in front of him after a jack rabbit, several times he heard the rattle of a snake, a pack of coyotes howled in the distance, they sang a familiar tune.
On a rise he stood up in the stirrups and saw camp fires off to his right. A train whistle sounded from that direction, he reined his mount that way. Nearing the camp he called for permission to come in. A Trooper called back, “Come on in.”
The Sergeant he had met on the road at the hay field, greeted him. “Come in, we’ve been waiting for you Marshal, thought you mighta got lost, coffee on the fire, get down, I’ll get ya some.” Sam could use some black coffee bad.
By the fire light, he could see horses on a picket line, Troopers standing, sitting and having the usual soldier talk, staying close by the fires, the Lieutenant lay in blankets sound asleep, his head propped on a long telegraph pole. He never made a move as Sam squatted down to drink his coffee by the fire. The Sergeant ordered a trooper, “Put the Marshal’s horse on the picket line, hang a nose bag on him.” Sam asked the trooper to loosen the cinch.
“Have you had some eats?” the Sergeant asked. “We have some beans and bread if you want some”
“I could eat some.” Sam was hungry, a trooper heard and brought a plate of beans and bread.
As Sam was eating, he and the Sergeant talked. Sam asked where he was from. “Macon, Georgia,” the Sergeant told him. He had been a reb during the war, just a youngster, he had married before he went off to the war, got captured at Shiloh, was in a Yankee prison the rest of the war. When he finally got home, found he had a baby girl, but never found his wife or her. He drifted west and joined the Yankee army. Been a trooper ever since.
Sam asked him, “You like the army?”
“Ain’t so bad, it’s them damn shave tails gets ya’ all in trouble.”
He pointed to the sleeping Lieutenant. Sam agreed. They talked awhile longer, the Sergeant had to change guards. Sam looked for and found a spot to sleep. Wrapped up in the serape, lay down and went to sleep.
He was up before the sunrise, he shook the sand and cactus from the serape, rolled and tied it on his saddle. As he stretched his arms, he felt sore all over. “I’m get-n too damn old for this shit, I should be live-n in a fine hotel somewhere, not sleeping out here in the desert.”
Hunger had got to him, he looked to his saddle bags for the food Dolores had sent him. He found a baked potato, some dried meat and a flour tortilla in the bags. He walked over where some troopers had made a fire. He asked if they were going to make coffee.
“It’s on the way,” a young trooper told him. “Be ready in a minute.”
The Sergeant came out of his blankets, giving orders for the troopers to get the horses saddled and be ready to move as soon as the Lieutenant gave the order. Hearing the commotion the Lieutenant came storming out of his blankets half asleep wanting to know what was going on.
“Not a thing Lieutenant, Sir,” the Sergeant reported. “We’re ready to move as soon as ya’ll give the order.”
“Fine, is our scout here?”
“Yes sir, been here since late last night, he’s over drinking coffee with the men.”
“Hey Scout,” the Lieutenant called. Anyone could tell he was in a bad mood. “Get over here I want words with you.”
Sam walked over. “What’s on your mind Lieutenant?”
“I want you to know, I’m in command here, you got that, Scout?”
Sam smiled, said nothing. turned his back side and went back to his coffee.
After breakfast the Lieutenant told the troopers, “We’re going south maybe we can cut their trail.”
“No. No,” Sam said. “We’d best go to where the men were killed, we’ll have a better chance to pick up a trail, might miss it goin’ south. We can find out a lot by study-n sign around the kill site, that’s where I’s go-n.” The Lieutenant never said another word.
Sam tightened the cinch on his saddle, stepped on and headed east on the wagon road. Within the hour the troop caught up. The Sergeant came alongside and said, “Ya’ll sure made him mad as hell Marshal, he’ll be tough to live with now.”
“Haw, he’s young, he’ll get over it. That’s a pretty fancy Springfield he’s carrying, can he shoot it?”
“Don’t know ain’t ever saw him shoot. They call that rifle, officer’s model, they just started makin’ em. It’s same caliber as ours, 45-70 special made for Officers.”
The road followed the Railroad tracks. They rode several hours, the road turned north away from the tracks for a mile, then east again, within another mile, the trooper who was with the escort came up and told Sam, “We should be where the kill-n took place any time now.”
Soon an overturned buckboard was found just off the road. Sam dismounted to have a look. The Lieutenant and Sergeant came to look also.
“They cut the harness to get the mules, two bucks took the mules with them, followed the others up that ridge,” Sam said pointing up a high ridge to the south.
The escort trooper said, “We found Corporal Black tied to a dead tree about a mile a
long on that ridge.”
“Let’s go take a look.”
Sam mounted and spurred his horse up the ridge, the Lieutenant and the troop followed. They found the tree just as the trooper said.
“Keep your men back,” Sam told the Lieutenant. “I gotta take a look around.” He dismounted and surveyed the ground.
“What do you see?” asked the Lieutenant.
Sam studied the ground a while longer. “There’s six of ‘em, they’re headed west, they’re in no hurry, took the mules with’ em.”
Sam took the Lieutenant aside. “I’m gonna follow their trail, you bring the troop up slow, I have a feel-n you’re gonna need your horses fresh before we get done.”
“What if we lose the trail?” the Lieutenant was concerned.
“Hell, a one-eyed blind man could follow their trail, they’re not afraid of us, soon they'll stop and butcher one of them mules soon’s they get hungry. Send one of your troopers with me, I'll send him back if I can find them before dark.”
Sam mounted and rode west, it was a little after noon. The sun was high overhead, a young trooper rode up beside him. “I'm supposed to stay with you, sir,” said the trooper. He looked young, about eighteen.
“What’s yer name boy?” Sam wanted to know.
“Trooper Roberts, sir, do you think we'll catch up with em today, sir?”
“For God’s sake, don't be call-n me sir, okay?” Sam showed he was annoyed.
“Yes sir.”
“Where you from?”
“Indiana....Elkhart.”
Sam told him, “If we run into the Indians, I want you to hightail it back to the troop, you understand, bring ‘em up fast, you got it?”
“Got it,” the trooper replied.
They rode several hours, over ridges, thru sand washes, a lot of mesquite trees, paloverde trees, grease wood bushes and all kinds of cactus.
On a rise they stopped. A flat desert lay in front of them, not far away a small ranch house could be seen. The tracks of the Indian riders led straight to the ranch. Sam sat studying the situation then he turned to the trooper. “Roberts, go get the troops, tell’ em to come easy, our renegades might be there, that’s where I'll be.” The trooper not saying a word turned his mount and spurred away East at a gallop.
Sam approached the house slow with his Winchester at the ready. As he got close he called as loud as he could, “HO THE HOUSE!” A door opened a crack, he could see a rifle barrel protruding out the door.
“Who call-n?” a man’s voice came back.
“U.S. Marshal from Tucson.”
The door opened, out stepped a white man with a Winchester rifle, two young boys, ten or twelve years old and a women followed, all of them had some kind of fire arm.
“We hoped them red devils were gone,” the man said. “They was here and camped most of the night. Drove off all our livestock, they never tried to get in the house, we gave ‘em a few shots. They didn’t shoot back, guess they must a seen we had lots a guns. I better take a look at my barn, gotta see what they stole.”
Sam dismounted and followed the man to his barn. Once inside the man looked around, poking here and there. “Dag gum it!” he said. “Them sons-a-guns red skins found my four bottles of tequila, I hid em out here from my woman, she don't take kindly to my drink-n hard liquor, looks like I’m gonna be dry awhile.”
They returned to the house. Sam asked if he could water and feed his horse and put him in the barn.
“Shore,” the man said. “We ain’t got nothing to feed no how any more.”
“There’s a troop of soldiers a-come-n,” Sam told him. “After I take care of my horse, I'll just set here in this chair and wait.”
“My woman will fix us some food and coffee while you wait. My name is George Thurber, how they call you?”
“Sam Duncan. Glad to meet you George. I wish it was in better circumstances.”
“Me too.” George was a friendly person.
After supper the two men sat and talked. The boys took in every word. Sam smoked his pipe, he told George he had a nice place. “Hope to have one myself one day, would like to raise horses.”
“The army will buy all the horses you can raise,” George said. “If you got good ones.”
It was almost dark when the troop came in, full of questions. Sam told them, “We’ll stay here tonight, give them bucks a chance to hole up somewhere, they'll be drinking this man’s Tequila, without a care in the world.”
Sam found a spot in George’s barn, rolled up in the serape, and fell fast a sleep.
Sam was up before the sun, cleaned his pistol and Winchester. From his saddle bags, he took his breakfast of jerked beef, a floor tortilla and a big red apple. Said to himself, “That Dolores knows how to keep a man in eats.”
The Sergeant came in the barn. “That damn Lieutenant, grumpy as hell this Morning.”
The Lieutenant came in bitching. “Sergeant, the troop won’t pay any attention to me at all. Go get em’ move-n.”
“Yes sir,” the Sergeant saluted and left.
Sam told the Lieutenant, “I'll go on ahead and Scout, you come up slow, they won’t be far.”
“Take Trooper Roberts with you, he can come get us if need be.”
Sam agreed. The two rode west, it was almost noon when the tracks led up a canyon into the mountains on the south. Sam and Roberts followed the tracks. Soon Sam could smell smoke, he turned back and told Roberts to go for the troop.
“I'll be at the entrance of this canyon, tell’ em, come up slow, no noise.” Roberts turned and at a gallop went for the troop.
Sam moved back to the entrance of the canyon and tied his horse in a mesquite thicket and sat down to wait. It was over an hour before the troop came up. Sam laid it out to the Lieutenant.
“You keep the troop here, I'll climb that ridge and see if I can spot em.”
“No! The Sergeant and I will go with you, lead the way.”
Sam took off his spurs, hung ‘em on the saddle horn. The Sergeant put the troop into the mesquite thicket and told them to stay put. The Lieutenant stopped Sam and told him, “We should form up and charge up the canyon like I've been taught.”
“No! You want to get a lot of your troopers killed? Them bucks will take to the rocks and we’ll have a hell of a time get-n to’ em, we'll do it my way, you follow me.”
The three men climbed the off side of the ridge until Sam figured where the Indians would be. He sat the two down and crawled to the top of the ridge and peeked over. There he saw the Apaches just where he thought they might be.
A butchered mule lay the other side of a small dry wash. Empty tequila bottles lay strung about, three bucks lay in the wash, an older buck was fishing mule meat out of the fire, two younger bucks were playing some kind of game, up the wash a few yards or more.
Sam returned to the Sergeant and Lieutenant. He told them to crawl up to the top. “Don't be seen, we got ‘em all, I'll go over a little farther and go to the top where I can get a better shot. Don't do any shoot-n til I do, got it?”
The two troopers could see he meant business and shook their heads, yes. Sam moved on up the ridge to a better spot. There he could see the two soldiers move into position as he studied the layout. “I'll take the one by the fire first, he's the most danger to us, his rifle is close. Then go for the three in the wash,” he said to himself. “The Lieutenant and Sergeant can take the two young ones.”
He took aim at the Apache at the fire, sighted the Winchester over his head a little and fired. The Apache never knew what hit him, he pitched forward into the fire. Next came the farthest one laying in the wash, he rose a little and fell backward. The other two started to run wildly up the canyon, past Sam. He took the one in the rear, down he went, as did the next one. Sam could hear the Lieutenant and Sergeant open fire. He saw the two young ones taking a lot of hits around them, one tried to get up. “That 45-70 hits like a cannon,” he said to himself. “His leg must be broken?”
The Apache
fell back and took several more rounds in his body. The other one had not been hit, he jumped and ran a few yards down the canyon, stopped and raised his rifle over his head in surrender fashion.
Sam half slid, half ran down to the bottom of the canyon. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Sergeant and Lieutenant reach the bottom too. He checked the ones he had hit, both were gone, he started for the young ones.
He saw the Lieutenant reach the one with his rifle over his head. What he saw next he couldn’t believe, the Lieutenant put the mussel of his rifle to the Indian’s head and pulled the trigger.
Sam was too late. He ran yelling. “No! No!” When he reached the Lieutenant he was cussing for all his worth. He lay his rifle down, grabbed the Lieutenant’s rife and began breaking it over a big rock, again and again he drove it into the rock, it flew apart, he threw the remainder as far as he could over the wash. Turning on the officer he said, “That was cold blooded murder you dirty low down no account bastard.”
He picked up his rifle and headed to his horse. As he left, he heard the Sergeant say, “I think you made that man mad Lieutenant.”
Sam reached the horse, mounted and rode for Manuel’s stable, he rode in just after midnight. Unsaddled the horse, watered and fed, then he walked up to the house. Dolores let him in, after some heavy knocking.
“We’ve been worried, Sam.”
“Let me go to bed, I'm dead tired.” Sam could hardly hold his head up, he didn’t wash, just kicked off his boots, lay down and went sound asleep.
Fighting sleep he finally became aware his room was filled with sun light. He was sweating heavily, the air in the room was stale and hot. He got up and opened the door to the patio, still in his clothes, trying to shake sleep off, he looked at his watch, one pm, his back hurt, his left shoulder sore.
“I can’t take days like that in the saddle any more,” he said to himself. “That was a bad time,” he felt total remorse. “Why do men have to kill each other? Will it ever end?”
As always he did his best to forget, rubbed his face. “I need a shave and a bath. I better go see Bob.”
He wrapped some clean clothes in paper, pulled on his boots, his hat on his head, pistol belt over his shoulder and went out in the hall.