by Jonas Ward
And seated beside Miguel was Consuela.
He cried out, "NO! Go back!"
The guard was coming from the trees. Miguel picked up a double-barreled shotgun and jumped to the ground. Consuela put a hand on the shoulder of her favorite driver and leaped lightly to earth. She went to her husband.
"Ah," she said. "You have not slept. You are weary."
"You got to get out of here. Dealer and Morgan, have gone loco. It's dangerous here for you."
"And for you?" She patted his cheek.
Miguel was walking toward the guard. He showed white teeth in the failing light. He said, "You want some buckshot, amigo? No? Then keep your distance from my lady and the senor."
The man said, "Hey, Mike, you know me, Sanders. I got orders, is all."
""Keep your orders away from us," Miguel told him.
"Hell, there's a hundred men up here'll make you yell and;."
"When they do, you may come closer. Until then?"
“Okay, Mike. But I'm warnin' you."
Miguel shrugged and took a position between the guard and the Bradburys. She was sitting on the log now, and his
hands on her shoulder. There were tears on his face. "she said, "The brave men talked in town. I sent Miguel for what he could. Then I knew I must come to you."
He said, "It's too late."
"We could drive off. Who is to stop us?"
"They'd send for us. Make it look like an accident. You got to go, Consuela. You can't stay here."
"So. We cannot escape. I see it. But I will not go."
"You got to, I tell you!"
She gestured. "Those women down there. Are they not with their husbands? Did you not ask them to leave?"
He nodded.
"In the town they know that, also. They talk. It will never be comfortable for Dealer Fox nor Morgan Crane in Buffalo again. If they had arms and a leader, I believe they would come here and fight."
"Is there a chance? ..."
"No. Your former friends have cleaned out the ammunition. There is no one to lead them. The telegraph wire is down. They sent a rider, but it will be too late for him to bring help. No, you are right. We will remain here."
"But not you!"
"Oh, yes, my dear. Me, Consuela." She fumbled in her dress, produced an ugly, short-barreled revolver. "Remember this? You gave it to me to use, if needed, while you were away. It was long ago when we were young."
"I remember." He did, indeed. His mind, stretched by the hours without sleep, by fasting because he was afraid food would induce slumber, ran whirling back to those days. His wife pregnant or caring for young children, himself in a honky-tonk or a barroom or up against a card table; yes, he remembered. She had never complained, she had been a devoted mother and wife. "You just can't fight 'em. There's too many. They got rifles. And now they got booze."
"I know. They stole it from the hotel." She was utters calm. "Miguel, the basket, please?"
Not taking his eyes from the guard, Miguel went to carriage and brought a basket to them. She lifted a cle white towel and displayed cold turkey and ham canned peaches and a bottle of wine.
Now he was famished. With Miguel and Consuela standing guard on their part, he might eat and sleep regain the resolution and intelligence he needed.
"Thanks, Consuela," he said humbly. "I guess I got to get strength. I don't want to die. Maybe . . . maybe we can work put something. If only Dealer and Morgan were their own selves . . . But they ain't. They're crazy to kill. It does things to men."
"They are fools."
He was reaching for the delicate viands. "Yes, they're damn fools. But they got the guns. They got the men to shoot 'em. It's a dead-end proposition."
"We're alive," she said. "Eat. Sip the wine. Then we'll watch while you sleep."
She composed herself on the log. Miguel flashed her a comforting grin. She adjusted the revolver in her ample lap where it would be handy in case of need.
Out on the prairie, the stars began to twinkle in a sky now clear. The hills lay northward, toward the town and county of Sheridan. Beyond there was an encampment of Crows, people of peace.
The tall mule carried double with ease. Raven's arms were warm around the waist of Dan Badger.
He said, "The raven is a talkin' bird, little daughter. But you do not talk to me."
"I must think." They spoke in the Crow tongue.
He reined in the mule. They slid down to earth and faced each other in the twilight.
He said, "I couldn't leave you there."
Now she switched to the proper English she had learned E the school. "They are so good to me. Even their religion is good, much like our own. The Great Father . . . you know."
"I know some, not all."
"They have no children of their own."
" Tain't our problem. I don't want you there when the end comes."
"You believe it will be a bad end."
"It can't be much else, now, can it? Too many guns out there.”
"I could be of help."
He said, "Child, you're my daughter, never forget. Nobody knows but old Chief Chinook. Nobody knows how they kilt her when she was comin' to me. Damn Blackfoot."
"You have sent many of them over."
"I did, daughter. I did. But I stopped. Figgered I'd kilt enough of 'em. Never did know if I got the right bunch."
"It is the Indian way."
"Yes. And now it is the Injun way to repay the Kovacs."
"Yes. You will stay."
"Won't be long now. You take the mule and go home."
"Will they accept me, father?"
"The old chief will accept you."
"Chinook."
" 'Tain't his Injun name, y' know. I give it to him durin' a winter thaw when he saved the tribe by movin' 'em to shelter before the change came."
"My grandfather?"
"Yes."
She said, "You have told me the way." She hesitated, her emotions showing for the first time. "Pieter and Jenny. They are so good."
"Mighty fine folks." He shifted the Sharps rifle. "I'll do what I kin."
"It will not be enough."
"Don't reckon so." There was no use to try and lie to her, she was too direct, too intelligent.
"I will think of them."
"You do that."
He gave her a hand, and she pulled up her short skirt| and settled into the saddle. She looked down at him. know it was best you left me with them. Still..."
"No way for me t' settle down. I come out here when I was a boy. I married the mountains afore I married yer ma. We all did, them that came early. Shoot, honey, I was an agin' buck when you was born. I don't know how many breeds I got on women before then. Don't fret on me."
"Those bad people that attack the Kovacs. I do not like to think of them and what will happen."
"A whole lot of 'em will come to Jesus afore it happen," he told her. He patted the rifle. "It's a bright night. I'll take a heap of 'em over."
"It is not enough."
"Don't fret, I say. Go home and learn the good ways of Chinook. You're a Crow girl, y' hear me?"
"I am half white."
"It don't show a bit on you. Chinook won't give it a thought. Grandchildren are special to Injuns."
"I remember."
"Then go. The fight'll begin anytime now. I got to pay for what the Kovacs did for us."
"I do not like it, father." She sat erect in the saddle, staring at the stars.
He slapped the mule on the flank. "EEyaw, outa here," he roared. The big animal bolted, with the girl in the saddle bent to the task of controlling it.
Badger watched until he could no longer see them. Her mother had been the last and the best of his wives. She was the only offspring that he knew to be alive and well.
In those early days, the only way he could have survived alone in the wilderness was to make friends with the Indians. They had all done so, Beckwourth, Carson, Bridger, Williams, all but Jed Smith, and he had met his own finish at t
he end of a lance, him and his Bible. Sometimes even being married into a tribe didn't help, either, when they got drunk on whatever was their local brew and went berserk.
But old Chinook had sold the girl for a fine horse, ten blankets, a rifle, a Bowie knife, and a tin bathtub that one of his wives used for cooking fat dog—-and was well pleased with the bargain. He was a good man, Chinook, and he could fight if he had to. Now he was peaceable, the army had taken away his guns, and the people moved with the seasons, not living their old life but not on a reservation either. The army was tolerant because of Chinook. Raven would adopt her Indian name and become one of them, which was right and proper, because look what was happening to her foster parents, the Kovacs, in this world of the white man.
Badger walked. He had walked all over God's West in his time. His stride was as natural as breathing and even now, in his old age, he was tireless and swift. There was a duty to be carried out. The Kovacs might die, in spite of Buchanan and his smart thinking, but Badger would claim many an eye for a tooth. His pouch was full of the bullets he had poured and made into cartridges for the old Sharps, and he knew how to use it better than anyone alive. And when it came to the end and he had to get within range, there was the Green River knife and a short-handled, sharp tomahawk in his belt.
"EEyaw," he said and walked a little faster.
Jenny Kovacs sat on a bench in the big front room of her house and wept, the tears running down her broad cheeks as Pieter tried ineffectually to wipe them away. Amanda stood before her, seeking words of comfort. Weevil crouched at a window, silent, as was Coco at the long table.
"Is gone," Jenny cried. "My house. Look at it! Now my little girl, my baby."
Cactus and Sutter came from the bedroom. Sutter was using a straight backed chair for a crutch. Each wore a six-gun, and each carried a rifle. Amanda backed warily against the wall.
Unnoticed, Sonny Thorne stood transfixed in the closet, preparing to go to the roof to join Buchanan and Trevor The Whelans were still in the barn standing guard.
Pieter looked at nothing. "Is so."
"I know what you mean," said Cactus softly. "Me and Sutter, we been talkin'."
"There ain't no way," Sutter said. "There just ain't no way outa this."
"Is so," said Pieter Kovacs, his face stony.
"It's your house." Cactus brought his rifle around bear upon Weevil. Sutter covered Coco. "You want quit, you got the say."
"We can talk to 'em out there," Sutter said. "We know them. They know us."
"If they want Buchanan . . . give 'em Buchanan," said Cactus. "Give 'em the Whelans and Trevor and all. It ain't our fight."
"You're crazy!" cried Amanda.
"Just lower your voice, lady," Cactus warned. "Anybody makes a big holler gets it right here and now. This thing's gone far enough. No use to run—but we can talk terms to Bradbury and them."
"That's right," Sutter said. "We can get outa this."
Sonny Thorne suddenly started up the ladder. Cactus heard him. In two moves, the cowboy was in the closet and swinging the butt of his rifle.
Sonny fell without a sound. Cactus dragged him away from the foot of the ladder and shoved him into a corner of the room. Jenny and Pieter watched without emotion. Amanda gasped. Coco made a move, then stopped. Weevil did not stir from his place by the window. A random shot came flying in and thunked into a hanging mattress.
Cactus said, "Okay with you, Kovacs? We talk to 'em?"
Jenny answered for the two of them. "Talk. Bring back my baby girl. Stop this killing."
Cactus said, "Sure thing." He went into the closet and called in a normal tone of voice, "Buchanan. Time to switch, ain't it?"
"Comin' down. You and Thorne can handle it up here," Buchanan answered.
Now Cactus held the rifle steady, facing the ladder. Amanda bit her lip. Sutter was watching them, rifle in hand, the other hand on his revolver. Coco leaned against the table. Weevil started to bring his rifle around, was stopped by a gesture from Sutter.
It was Trevor who dropped lightly from the ladder. Cactus stuck the muzzle of the rifle in his face. Trevor ducked and sprang into the room. He saw Sutter, saw the situation and cried out, "Buchanan, watch out!"
Setter fired a shot. Trevor went down. Amanda screamed.
Buchanan landed on his feet, knees bent, revolver drawn.
Cactus had his finger on the trigger of the rifle. Buchanan said, "Pull... and you're dead."
Cactus held fast. "We want to talk."
"Not to me," said Buchanan. "Put down that gun or say your prayers."
From his corner, Weevil drawled, "Better do like the man says. You start somethin' and we'll blow the joint apart."
Coco moved, painfully but with purpose. He came up behind Sutter. He kicked the chair away and seized the rifle. Sutter groaned as he hit the floor.
Cactus cried, "The Kovacs wanta quit. We got a right. It's their place." He lowered the rifle and backed into the room and stood beside Sutter, helping the other cowboy to his feet. "Ask them. We want to talk to Bradbury and them."
Amanda had flown to the side of Trevor. He grinned at her. "Bad shot, what? Just a shoulder."
"I didn't want to kill nobody," said Sutter. "I coulda got him dead center."
"Decent of you, old boy," said Trevor.
Buchanan said, "So you want to talk to them? Kovacs?”
"Is so." He was dull-faced, as though not involved the action. "Me and Jenny."
"Should we let Cactus and Sutter show us how done?" Buchanan asked gently.
"Any way it can be done," Jenny said. "My baby gone. My house is ruin."
"But not blown up. Not yet," Buchanan said. Then he shrugged. "You want to talk to them, go ahead."
"Gimme a white flag, anything. I'll go out there," sail Cactus. "Them people know me."
Jenny Kovacs arose. She went to a chest of drawers and took out a spotless white sheet. "God bless," she said, handing it to Cactus. She did not look at Buchanan.
Amanda said, "Come with me, Trevor." She led him to the kitchen and began to remove his jacket. She called ~ Buchanan, "I do not agree with this."
"Uh-huh," said Buchanan. He watched Cactus attach the sheet to his rifle barrel. He motioned Coco and Weevil to stay away from the door. Sutter had regained his feet and was following Cactus.
Cactus yanked back the heavy bar. The door swung open. He stuck the rifle out and waved it. Night was falling fast, but there was an answer from the forest. Cactus and Sutter went out into the open.