“Still got an eye for twitches, huh?”
“That’s how I’ve won so many hands of poker,” Clint said. “Also, you conduct yourself like a proper soldier. Any man who acts befitting his rank would have a problem with someone like Farelli. How the hell did he get to be an officer anyway?”
“Lord only knows, but he is the one issuing the commands,” McGurn said. “Since he’s actually doing something to try and stop these attacks before they get any worse, I’m inclined to follow his lead.”
Already seeing the smoke from the fires of a nearby camp, Clint spoke quicker before they got any closer to the awaiting Indians. “Doesn’t the Army have someone better than him to handle this?”
“Farelli handled a group of unruly redskins when he was awaiting a formal court-martial. I believe you know something about that.”
“You’re damn right, I do.”
“Farelli came up with a plan to deal with the Indians and they would only talk to him. Blood was being spilled and he was about to go on the block anyway, so he was allowed to try his own plan. It worked and he slipped away from his court-martial with a slap on the wrist. He even got promoted,” McGurn added with a shake of his head.
“Sounds like you know a lot about the subject.”
“I looked into it after I was stationed here. I had to know how a man like that could be in command.”
“And you still take his orders on this?” Clint asked.
McGurn nodded solemnly. “This is a job that needs doing, no matter who gives the order to start the work. I assume that’s the same reason you’re along for this ride.”
“Pretty much,” Clint said. “Should I fall back?”
After deliberating for all of two seconds, McGurn barked, “Nolan, you stay back and watch to make certain we don’t get flanked while we’re in the meeting.”
“But you can’t just go in there with the kid!” Nolan protested.
“I won’t be. Adams is coming with me and Biggs.”
“But—”
McGurn snapped his head around quickly enough to rattle almost every decoration on his hat and jacket. “You have a problem with that, mister?”
Even though Nolan was carrying enough guns to supply the entire group, he reflexively backed off when he saw the fire in McGurn’s eyes. “I guess not. You’re the officer, but Farelli will hear about this.”
“Then he’ll hear it from both of us, because everything will wind up in my report.” With that, McGurn set his sights upon the group of Indians watching him from a small camp less than a hundred yards away. “All right, men. We know what to do. Let’s do it and get home in time for supper.”
EIGHTEEN
Since Clint had succeeded in changing McGurn’s arrangement, the group of soldiers filed into the Indian camp in a different order than planned. To an outside observer, however, there was no hitch in the Army men’s operation. On the outskirts of the camp, Nolan reined his horse in and stopped to watch the rest of the men proceed. Private Biggs stopped short of the main tepee in the middle of the camp while McGurn was escorted the rest of the way by Clint and the translator.
Clint hoped to spot anything out of the ordinary that might help give him an edge in what ever was coming, but there simply wasn’t much to see. There were plenty of Indians—Navajo, by the looks of them—and they watched the Army men with as much suspicion as anyone might expect. There were plenty of rifles, spears, and bows on display, but none of them were aimed directly at the camp’s visitors. Just as McGurn drew to a stop, a trio of men stepped from the tepee.
Two of the men were obviously warriors. They carried their weapons as if they were part of their bodies and didn’t need to wave them in any threatening manner. They were also built like brick walls, with enough muscle to make it seem like they could punch out a horse. The third man wore the robe and headdress of a chief. He appeared to be somewhere in his forties, but had a youthfulness that made his age difficult to judge. There was also something that set him apart from the rest of the Indians at that camp. For the moment, Clint couldn’t quite put his finger on what that was.
“We’re here to speak to Chief Tolfox,” McGurn announced.
The man between the two braves looked at the lieutenant with crystal-clear eyes and nodded once. He then turned and stepped back into the tepee.
“Come inside,” one of the braves said. “Leave your weapons.”
Although McGurn and the translator reached for their gun belts, Clint stood his ground. “Will you be leaving your weapons outside?” he asked.
The brave squinted as if he was considering crushing Clint under his foot.
“If these are supposed to be peace talks, we should all talk peacefully,” Clint explained. “Otherwise, any man would be foolish to let himself be surrounded and weaponless.”
“The white man’s Army offers money for our scalps. We’d be foolish to let you take ours.”
“Will you two be watching over your chief?” McGurn asked.
The brave who’d been speaking nodded once.
“Then my guard can stand among you as he is. Will your chief be carrying a weapon?”
“He won’t need one.”
Unbuckling his gun belt and handing it to the brave, McGurn said, “Then neither will I. Is that acceptable?”
For a few seconds, the braves stared at McGurn and Clint without saying a word. Just when it seemed they might take a swing at the Army men and be done with it, the silent brave stepped forward to take the weapons from McGurn and the translator. “You two can go and talk. This one stays with us.”
“Fine by me,” Clint said as he kept his thumbs hooked over his gun belt.
Holding the flap of the tepee open, the brave waited until McGurn and the translator were inside before looking to Clint and snarling, “You make one move for that gun and I’ll gut you like a freshly killed deer.”
Clint nodded and stayed right where he was supposed to stand. Although he didn’t say as much, he knew that if any of those warriors saw him reach for his gun, he’d have already lost the fight.
The tepee seemed smaller on the inside than it looked on the outside. Part of that was because of the design of the structure, which tapered to a point at the top, but most was due to the fact that there were five more braves already inside to form a wall behind the spot where Chief Tolfox sat. Tolfox motioned to some vacant ground around a small fire that was built in the middle of the area. McGurn and the translator both took their seats as Clint stood at the edge of the gathering. Without a word from either of the two braves that had escorted him in, a few more warriors took up positions next to and behind him. Clint knew that even his speed at drawing a pistol wouldn’t do much good with that many eyes waiting for him to make a move.
“What did you bring me from Farelli?” Chief Tolfox asked.
McGurn blinked once and replied, “We bring you offerings of peace so we can end—”
“No,” Tolfox snapped. “What did you bring?”
“I’m prepared to make an offer of trade, but this is only in the understanding that these attacks on our people will come to an end.”
“What trade? How much?”
Although he kept his composure, McGurn was obviously taken aback by the chief’s straightforwardness. “Surely your people could use medicine or blankets.”
“We have our own medicines and our women can make plenty of blankets.”
“Then we can offer tools or maybe even some horses.”
“That’s better,” Tolfox said with a grin.
McGurn’s eyes narrowed as he took another look around the tepee. The braves held their positions and weren’t brandishing their weapons. Although Clint had been surrounded, even he was allowed to watch over the talks as they’d agreed on outside. Therefore, McGurn’s suspicious glare returned to Tolfox and stayed there.
“What would you propose, Chief?” McGurn asked.
The chief pulled in a breath and raised his chin. “One thousand dollars and the att
acks will stop…for now.”
“I came to discuss peace, not some temporary truce.”
“A thousand now and another five thousand once we prove that we can uphold our end of this bargain. After that payment, you’ll have your peace.”
“This sounds more like a ransom,” McGurn said.
Tolfox shrugged. “The only thing the white man understands is money. If you don’t want to pay, we can come to another arrangement.”
Finally, McGurn seemed pleased by what he’d heard. “There are plenty of arrangements to be made. Some can be beneficial to all of us. For example, I was thinking about a trade route between our two peoples that could help everyone equally.”
Although McGurn had gathered a head of steam, Tolfox looked as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “If you don’t have the cash, we’ll accept horses or weapons. If you’d rather trade weapons, we might even be able to knock some off the agreed price.”
“I wasn’t aware this was about a price,” McGurn said. “This is about settling what ever differences we have so that the attacks can stop.”
“Your Blue Coats attack us, just as we attack you,” Tolfox growled.
McGurn held up his hands and added, “The bloodshed must stop. We can come to an arrangement, but surely this wasn’t just about getting us to pay you money.”
Tolfox squinted and shook his head. “Where’s Farelli? I should talk to him.”
“Colonel Farelli has sent me to talk to you and I assure you I am authorized to make what ever arrangements are necessary.”
Gritting his teeth in preparation for what looked to be a tirade, Tolfox snapped his head to one side when the sound of raised voices drifted in from outside. Just as the braves were getting nervous, the sounds from outside were joined by another.
A single rifle shot cracked through the air and punched a hole through the tepee.
NINETEEN
The second Clint heard the shot, he dropped to one knee and reached for his pistol. Another shot followed the first, but that was just different enough in pitch to have come from a different gun. Soon the camp outside was filled with gunshots. The inside of the tepee wasn’t in much better condition.
One of the braves against the wall clutched his chest and dropped to his knees. His hands were slick with blood and his eyes were wide with blatant surprise. He tried to say something, but his words wouldn’t come out. Then he fell over and the bullet wound could plainly be seen in his back.
“They’re trying to kill me!” Tolfox shouted.
That was all the braves needed to hear before they swarmed in two directions. Half of the warriors closed in around the chief and the other half ran from the tepee. A few of them stayed right where they were, however. Those were the ones who’d surrounded Clint.
“I didn’t fire a shot!” Clint said as one of the braves grabbed his arms and another drew a long blade from a scabbard hanging from his hip. “You were watching me the whole damn time!”
The Indian who’d laid down the law to Clint was the one who got up close to him now. Pressing the knife against Clint’s throat, he said, “If any of those soldiers did this, you will die.”
“We’ll all have a better chance of surviving if we get the hell out of this tepee.”
More shots were fired outside and a few of them tore through the tanned hide of the tepee. Two of the braves closest to Tolfox had grabbed hold of McGurn and the translator. While the translator seemed too petrified to move, McGurn had more of his wits about him. The lieutenant drove his elbow into the gut of the brave behind him, shoved another of the Indian warriors away, and dove for the spot where the ground met the tepee. There were stakes holding the hide in place, but McGurn was able to get outside with a bit of scrambling.
“Looks like your own men run away like dogs,” the brave holding the knife on Clint said.
As more gunshots crackled outside, Clint waited for one to hit the tepee. When it did, the brave with the knife twitched, which was all the opening Clint needed. Clint’s hand came up in a flicker of motion to knock the blade away from his throat. Before the brave could react, Clint drove his other fist into the Indian’s stomach. The brave was made of solid muscle, but Clint’s punch caused the Indian to stagger back half a step.
As much as Clint wanted to get out of that tepee, he couldn’t just leave the translator sitting there. Clint rushed forward to scoop up the translator in one arm and keep running for the side of the tepee. Once the translator got his legs beneath him, he struggled to pull his own weight. Rather than wait for the smaller man to regain his balance, Clint tossed the translator into the tepee with enough force to pull the whole structure to one side.
Despite the impact of the translator’s body against that side, the tepee remained upright. Clint turned to face the rest of the braves who now charged at him with weapons drawn. One of them caught a piece of lead that burned through the tepee and dropped to entangle the legs of a few others. There were more than enough to reach Clint, however, and the first one to get to him aimed a rifle at his face.
Clint drew his Colt and fired from the hip. His bullet drilled through the brave’s hip and sent him spinning to the ground.
Another one of the Indians came at Clint with a knife. Clint was happy to let that one come forward until he was close enough to suit his purpose. At the last possible second, Clint snapped his gun arm upward so the side of his pistol cracked against the Indian’s wrist, blocking the incoming knife moments before it was buried in Clint’s chest. Clint twisted his upper body, allowed the blade to pass him by, and then pulled the knife out of the Indian’s hand. The brave was strong, but Clint’s blood was pumping fast enough to give him just enough extra steam to take the knife away. As soon as he had the knife, Clint slashed a large hole in the side of the tepee.
“Get out of here!” Clint shouted to the translator.
The translator cowered against the tepee, too scared to dive through the opening that was less than two feet away from him. Since there wasn’t time to convince the translator to go, Clint placed his boot on the smaller man’s shoulder and shoved him out. As soon as the translator was clear of the tepee, he found the strength to start running.
Clint took a step toward the rip himself, but was stopped by the Indian whose knife had been taken away. Turning to swing at the brave, Clint felt his Colt bounce off the large Indian. Although he could have made certain the warrior wouldn’t follow him or anyone ever again, Clint decided to put all of his efforts into just getting out of the tepee.
More shots were coming from the other end of camp. Now that he was outside, Clint could make out some voices as well. Several of them must have come from the Indians, but one of them stood out from the rest.
“It’s all over, dammit! The deal’s off!”
It was Nolan. Not only was he screaming at the top of his lungs, but he was also firing his rifle at the tepee. Clint saw the gunman firing and working the lever of his rifle to alternate between firing at the tepee and shooting at the Indians who tried to bring him down.
“What the hell are you doing, Nolan?” Clint shouted as he ran around the tepee. He kept his head low to avoid an incoming shot, but wasn’t so concerned when he saw the crazed look in Nolan’s eyes.
Nolan’s coat was open so he could get to almost every gun at his disposal. After firing one more shot into a nearby Indian, he wrapped both hands around the stock and swung the rifle into the head of another. Then Nolan drew both pistols from his double-rig holster and shouted, “The cavalry’s comin’! Bring them outta there, Adams! The cavalry’s comin’!”
The translator put his back to the entire camp and ran for the surrounding rocks.
The scout was nowhere to be found.
Before Clint could try to make sense of what was happening, he heard McGurn’s booming voice over the chaos.
“Stand down!” McGurn shouted. “That’s an—” was all he could get out before a bullet was fired into his chest.
McGurn staggered and drop
ped to one knee.
Clint ran toward the lieutenant as Nolan kept on screaming.
“The lieutenant’s dead!” Nolan hollered. “Someone spread the word these savages killed an Army officer!”
Just then, Tolfox emerged from the tepee surrounded by his braves. As soon as he laid eyes upon the chief, Nolan ran forward and pointed both guns at Tolfox. “It’s all over!” Nolan announced. “You’re—”
Clint’s modified Colt barked once and sent a bullet through Nolan’s skull. Nolan’s fingers clenched around his triggers, but he was already falling to the ground and sent both shots straight into the dirt.
“Done!” Clint said as he quickly pointed his pistol to the sky. “I don’t know what started this, but it’s done! Everybody just calm down before anyone else gets hurt.”
There was a rustling behind Clint, but before he could do anything about it he felt a sharp pain at the back of his head. A single thump filled Clint’s ears, blackness filled his eyes, and his legs turned into limp noodles beneath the rest of him.
TWENTY
Clint opened his eyes and immediately regretted it.
The first thing he felt was enough pain from the back of his head to convince him his skull had been cracked. The only way to make it hurt any worse was to move, which he tried to do out of pure reflex. Thankfully he couldn’t move more than an inch or so in any direction before he was stopped.
He couldn’t see anything, but it took a few more seconds for Clint to realize there was something tied over his eyes. Then he felt the first pain again as his blindfold dug into the sore spot on his head. After a bit of squirming, Clint figured out he was lying on his side. Since the pain was only getting worse, he decided to sit still for a second and let his ears do some of the work.
It was fairly quiet wherever he was. Apart from a few birds and some running water, the only things Clint could hear were some subdued voices. The couple of words he could pick out weren’t English. While Clint might not have been an expert in languages, he recognized Navajo when he heard it. That bit of knowledge caused a whole flood of thoughts to cut loose within his head. Even those hurt.
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