The big Navajo was every bit as strong as he looked. His own horse also moved to stay beneath him, making the struggle between the two men seem more like it was taking place on foot instead of thundering over a darkening landscape. Ahiga gritted his teeth and pulled to reclaim his weapon, but Clint wasn’t about to let go. For a moment, it seemed Clint was faltering so Ahiga took advantage by pulling the rifle again.
Quickly correcting himself in the saddle, Clint loosened his grip when he knew Ahiga would be pulling with all his strength. That way, the Indian got little resistance and was caught off his guard. Ahiga fell back a ways and had to scramble to keep from falling off the other side of his horse. When his attention was focused on regaining his balance, Ahiga felt Clint resume the tug-of-war.
This time, Clint didn’t pretend to falter and he didn’t let Ahiga make a move. Clint felt the Indian wobbling a bit, so he leaned all the way back and pulled the rifle toward him. Even though he could have made the same mistake Ahiga had just made, Clint braced himself a little better and managed to take the rifle away from Ahiga. As soon as the weapon was in his possession, Clint tapped his heels against Eclipse’s sides and leaned down low over the stallion’s neck.
Shots were being fired and they weren’t all coming from the Army riders. It seemed the Indians behind Clint had seen him make his move and were intent on stopping him. Fortunately, Clint had picked his spot well and didn’t have far to go before he could position himself behind a few trees. Bullets whipped through the air past him and a few came awfully close to their mark before Clint steered Eclipse hard to the left and circled around the trees.
Clint didn’t even bother taking a close look at the rifle in his hands. It was decorated with a few simple beaded straps and feathers and he could tell it was loaded. That was all he truly needed to know. By the time he circled around the other side of the trees, he knew the Indians had bigger worries than catching up to him.
Navajo and Crow alike let out yelping battle cries as beating hooves rumbled toward each other and more shots crackled through the air. Clint managed to circle around to the side of the spot where the Indians clashed with the first group of Army riders. Taking a moment to recall where the second group had split off, Clint looked around and spotted the remaining Army riders as they charged toward the Indians’ flank.
Although it went against all of his instincts at that moment, Clint sat up tall in his saddle and held his rifle high over his head. Fortunately, the second group of Army riders seemed more focused on sneaking up to the battle than announcing their position. The riders headed straight toward Clint and held their fire long enough to get a look at him.
“I’m Clint Adams!” he shouted. “Don’t shoot!”
The Army riders thundered up to where Clint had stopped. Most of them kept going, but a couple stayed behind to surround him. Both riders kept their guns drawn and pointed at Clint.
“Toss that rifle!” the first rider said.
Clint did as he was told while the rider closed the distance between them. The second rider got behind Clint and covered him from there. As the battle continued nearby, both of the Army riders kept their eyes and aim on Clint. Finally, Ahiga let out a distinctive yelp and the beating of hooves became louder than the gunfire.
The Indians moved away and then scattered in different directions, forcing the Army riders to split up or let some of them go. The soldiers held their ranks and stayed in one group, while the two with Clint stayed where they were.
Only after things quieted down for good did either of the men with Clint say anything.
“You were supposed to be dead,” the soldier said.
Clint let out a breath and replied, “I thought you’d be glad to find me.”
THIRTY-ONE
Although the soldiers didn’t keep their guns aimed at him, Clint was taken back to Fort Winstead as something less than a returning comrade. At first, only Clint and his two escorts were approaching the fort. By the time they reached the front gate, however, the rest of the soldiers weren’t far behind.
If Clint was expecting anyone to greet him with a hint of friendliness, he knew he would have to wait a bit longer once he saw Colonel Farelli stomp out of his shack with his hands placed firmly upon his hips.
“Where in the hell have you been, Adams?” Farelli asked.
Clint swung down from his saddle and wiped some of the sweat from his brow. “Good to see you too, Colonel.”
“Cut that bullshit. Come in here and tell me what the hell happened!”
Following the colonel into the shack, Clint watched to see if he would still have an escort. The other men who’d been out riding that night were too tired to volunteer for that duty. They swapped a few words with each other, but either made their way to the saloon or dragged themselves to the bunk house.
As soon as Clint was inside the shack, Farelli slammed the door shut behind him. “Start explaining yourself, Adams.”
“I haven’t seen anyone else who was sent out with Lieutenant McGurn,” Clint said.
“That’s because none of them made it back.”
“None of them?”
“Are you deaf? None of them!”
Clint sat down and tried to smother the anger that was flaring up inside him every time Farelli barked at him like he was punishing a child. “We got to the meeting place. The Indians were there and everything seemed to be going the way—”
“What about the chief?” Farelli cut in. “Was Chief Tolfox there, too?”
“Yes, sir. He was there. In fact, he was in the same tent with McGurn when Nolan opened fire on the whole damn place.”
Farelli’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t start yelling again. On the contrary, he sat down behind his desk, reached into a drawer, and pulled out a bottle half full of whiskey. “I need a drink. What about you, Adams?”
Under any other circumstance, Clint would refuse whiskey without a thought. But since this was the first time Farelli seemed to ease up around him, Clint wasn’t about to turn his nose up at the offer. He accepted the whiskey and passed it under his nose. He wasn’t an expert on the subject, but it smelled expensive.
“How long have you known McGurn?” Farelli asked.
Clint shrugged. “It’s been a while, and we’ve only met a handful of times.”
“Then you may or may not know he’s been a pain in my ass for a long time. He’s gone so far as to spread the word around here that I didn’t earn my promotions. You know, on the battlefield, I could have him shot for saying such a thing.”
“Maybe, but this isn’t a battlefield.”
“It has been ever since those Injuns declared war on me. You know how I got promoted this far up the chain?”
“I’ve been wondering about that.”
Either Farelli didn’t pick up on the sarcasm in Clint’s voice or he didn’t care about it, because he kept talking without a hitch. “I cleaned up not just one other area of an Indian menace, but two. Hell, I even had a lot to do with a third, but some other officer got credit for that. You know how McGurn made his rank?”
Clint shook his head.
“By riding on patrols and spending months out in the wilderness. You know what I call that?” Farelli asked. “A trapper. A scout. Not a soldier. Can you believe that?”
“And what about Nolan?” Clint asked.
Farelli shook his head and sipped his drink. “He’s been at war with the Indians for years. He could probably smell an ambush coming.”
“You think he’d want to kill Proud Fox?”
“Only if that bastard had something set up that would kill the lieutenant and all of his men.” Motioning toward Clint with enough force to spill some of his whiskey, Farelli added, “That includes you, you know.”
Clint nodded. “I know.”
“So where were you these last few days? Everyone around here thought you were dead.”
“I tried to tip the scales back in our favor at the meeting, but it was too late. I got knocked in the ba
ck of the head, woke up in an Indian camp with a headache to beat all, and I agreed to ride with the Indian scouts just so I could get close enough to make my move. Once I saw my chance, I broke free and met up with some of your men. I’d appreciate it if you called them in here. They’re the ones that deserve a drink.”
“I’m sure you’ll find them in the saloon.” Farelli leaned forward in his chair and asked, “Do you think you could remember where that camp is?”
“I should be able to find my way there again.”
“Did you happen to pick up on anything else while you were among those savages?”
“Sure,” Clint replied. “I know they’re getting ready to pull up stakes and move again real soon. I also know that chief has got something he wants to deliver to the Federals and he’s sure not about to hand it over to anyone around here.”
“You mean Tolfox?”
Clint nodded slowly, noting how Farelli drifted right back into calling the Crow Tolfox after having slipped up not too long ago. “That’s the chief I mean.”
“What’s he got?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly in a good spot to ask, but I might just be able to find out.”
THIRTY-TWO
Clint headed for the only place in Fort Winstead that served liquor and hosted card games on a regular basis. Since there wasn’t any competition in the immediate area, the place was marked with a sign that simply read: Saloon. And since Farelli had steered him toward the place, the colonel didn’t bother watching Clint once it was clear where he was going.
Without being obvious about it, Clint made sure the colonel wasn’t keeping too close an eye on him. A few more precautions made Clint fairly certain he wasn’t being watched by anyone else. Therefore, he felt fairly secure when he just gave the soldiers who’d brought him in a quick wave and then walked over to a table near the back of the saloon.
“You look nervous,” Abigail said as Clint sat down across from her.
He sighed and said, “You would, too, if you were walking in tall grass with so many snakes about.”
“That bad, huh?”
Catching the bartender’s eye, Clint pointed to the soldiers he’d waved at before and had a round of beers sent over to them. He turned his attention back to Abigail and spoke in a lower voice. “I’ll know a bit more before too long. Will you be here for a while longer?”
“At least for another night. The bunk house isn’t exactly set up for proper guests, so the colonel arranged for me to sleep in one of the rooms reserved for visiting officers. It’s free and just as nice as that fancy hotel from before.”
“And I doubt any officers will be visiting this place anytime soon,” Clint added. “Have you been keeping busy?”
She shrugged and chewed on her lower lip.
“You look guilty,” he said.
“I ain’t guilty of nothin’!” she replied quickly. Realizing she’d raised her voice a bit, she brought it down a few notches and told him, “The colonel paid a hell of a lot of money for finding you and he’s made it known he could have some more work real soon. I thought I’d see if I might be able to pick up some more work.”
“Nothing wrong with that. You do realize this work could be messier than you’re used to?”
“Yeah, I know. I ain’t accepted none of it yet.”
Clint couldn’t help but admire the convincing half-scowl Abigail put on when she talked. The way she gripped her drink made it seem as if she wasn’t sure she was going to lift the mug to her lips or smash it against someone’s head. “What’s the word been about this work Farelli’s offering?” Clint asked. “Does it involve riding or shooting?”
“Maybe a little of both. What ever it is, there’s bound to be dustups with the Injuns. That much was made real clear.”
“Well, you might just be in a position to do me a little favor.”
“That’s funny,” she said with a grin. “I was thinking the same about you.”
“What do you think about Farelli?”
The smile that had appeared on Abigail’s face drifted away as quickly as it had arrived. “His money spends.”
“So if you were to ask some more about these jobs he’s looking to have done, would you mind letting me know what they involve?”
“And then what?” she asked suspiciously.
“And then…I don’t know. That’s it, really. I’d be mighty grateful to know what he might be planning.”
“Do you think it’s something bad?”
“To be honest, I can’t say for certain. It might be something that has nothing to do with what I’m thinking about. For a man like Farelli to somehow find his way to the rank of colonel, he’s got to have a lot of irons in the fire. Some of them have got to be official, but most of them probably aren’t. He’s definitely got something going on with the Indians who have been making these attacks, but the deeper I dig, the more gnarled it all becomes.”
“I’ll have a look-see, but I can’t promise anything,” she told him. “No matter what I find, you’ll owe me big and I aim to collect.”
“Name it.”
After a bit of thought, Abigail replied, “Meet me back here in an hour or two. I should have something for ya by then.”
“Great,” Clint said with a nod. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to dig a little deeper.”
THIRTY-THREE
As Clint stepped outside of the fort’s front gate, the only things he could hear were the crunch of his boots against the dirt and the banjo player who’d started playing inside the saloon. There were guards posted here and there, but none of them did anything besides nod when they saw Clint stroll from the fort. Even though Clint wasn’t in the Army, the sorry state of Fort Winstead’s patrols was disgusting.
All Clint had to do was walk over the first ridge to put himself outside of the sentry’s notice. To his surprise, Clint realized that Ahiga had crept in even closer than that without being noticed. The big Navajo acknowledged Clint with a wave and worked his way back to meet him over the ridge.
“I could have snuck into that place and solved our problem right now,” Ahiga muttered.
“Actually, I bet you could have snuck in there easily. This fort isn’t the problem, though. It’s the assholes that are keeping it up and running. Well…barely up and running. Did the others try to follow me?”
Ahiga shook his head. “The Crow don’t speak to us unless Tolfox tells them to and I told my own braves the truth.”
Smirking, Clint asked, “You know his name is Proud Fox, right?”
“Yes, but the other name rattles in his head like a…” After taking a moment to search for the right words, Ahiga finally said, “Like a bee in his bonnet.”
Clint chuckled more at the sound of those words coming from someone like Ahiga than the actual words themselves. “I’ll bet it does. And your braves know that you wanted to let me go so I could talk to the colonel?”
“They knew they were supposed to let you go. Since I was the one telling them this, they didn’t ask any more than that.”
“And you were able to speak with Tolfox?”
Ahiga nodded. “He stormed in when I was speaking to Mingan, strutting as he always does. When I asked to speak with him alone, Tolfox swelled up like the proud fool he is.”
“And?”
Furrowing his brow was all Ahiga needed to do for Clint to know he was uncomfortable with saying any more just then. “All right,” Clint said. “I’ll let you know what the colonel had to say first. He’s covering the tracks of the man who started the shooting, that’s for certain.”
“Did he order the shooting?”
No matter how many suspicions Clint had or how many suspicions were turning out to be true, Clint knew that question was most definitely loaded. “I don’t know for certain yet. I do know that he’s got a history with Tolfox that stretches all the way back to before that name took root. Either that, or he knows Tolfox well enough to fall into the habit of calling him Proud Fox instead. Farelli
slipped up and mentioned that name without blinking an eye.”
“So he could have been trying to kill his own soldiers instead of Tolfox?” Ahiga asked.
“That doesn’t seem likely. Someone who gets ahead by cheating and double-dealing isn’t the sort to throw murder into the mix.”
“Something like that would not bother Tolfox,” Ahiga stated. “All of the Crow are killers and thieves.”
Now it was Clint’s turn to furrow his brow. “Is that a fact or is that just some bad blood talking?”
Ahiga started to answer that without thinking, but paused and then lowered his head slightly. “Before being forced to ride away from my tribe and join this one, I was at war with the Crow. I have spent too much time with Tolfox, however, and I know he is a killer. He leads us into attacks on wagons or settlers for no good reason and then says we need to go into hiding.”
“What about Mingan?” Clint asked. “That doesn’t seem like his way.”
“It is not. But Tolfox’s men follow Tolfox and they attack without question. After that, there is no other choice but to hide.”
“Hide from soldiers, you mean?”
Ahiga nodded.
“When was the first time Tolfox suggested an attack like this one?”
“A few years ago,” Ahiga replied. “I was new to this mixed tribe and ready to fight any white man in a blue uniform.”
“Was one of those men Farelli?”
Without hesitation, Ahiga nodded. “I stood beside Tolfox when he spoke with Farelli and struck a peace.”
“I’ll bet that’s right about the time when Farelli started getting promoted. That could explain how Farelli got so much recognition when all he does is take up space on a chair. In fact, it’s not even a new idea. I just don’t think anyone’s set anything up that caused this much trouble just so they could come in and look like a hero squaring it away.”
Straw Men Page 11