Piccadilly Doubles 1

by Lou Cameron

  Willy Unger, obviously unharmed and half ignored by the concerned members of the patrol, came over to grab Caldwell by one sleeve and yell, “They still got Jezebel! Ain’t you-all gonna git Jezebel away from them rascals?”

  Caldwell frowned and squinted into the sunrise as be gently disengaged himself from Alfrieda. The other dots he’d seen were no longer visible. He turned to Ernestine, put a hand to the brim of his hat, and said, “Your servant, ma’am. Am I to understand they still hold another member of your party?”

  Ernestine brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes and said weakly, “I don’t know. I’m so confused about all that’s happened. I thought I’d lost my Willy and then they started yelling at each other and running us all around in the dark … ”

  Caldwell cut in to call out, “Corporal Muller! Break out some water and blankets to spread on the ground for this lady. I do believe she’s about to faint.”

  Willy tugged his sleeve again. “They got my ma’s serving wench, Jezebel. The sassy nigger stayed ahint when Eskinya let us go.”

  “Eskinya? Jezebel?” frowned Caldwell. Alfrieda said, “Hush, Willy, you don’t understand. We owe our lives to Jezebel and the way she sweet-talked them Injuns in dago.” The young girl dimpled at Matt Caldwell and explained, “We had us a slave girl with us, name of Jezebel. A buck named Eskinya took a shine to her, and when them Injuns got to fightin’ amongst themselves, Jezebel got her Injun beau to turn us loose.”

  “She gave up her own freedom in exchange for your safety?”

  “Not exactly. I didn’t understand the half of what they jawed about in dago, but the way I understand it, Eskinya told her it was her own free choice to make.”

  Willy said, “Dang it, Jezebel never had no choice. She was a nigger slave as belonged to ma and pa. If you don’t hurry, mister, them pesky Injuns’ll ride off with our property!”

  Caldwell turned to the oldest member of the family, a puzzled smile on his face. Ernestine was being helped to a seat on the saddle blanket Muller had spread out in the dust for her. She looked up blankly when the officer touched his hat brim a second time and said, “It’s up to you, ma’am. I’m a Free-Stater myself, but I’m sworn to uphold the law as I find it on the books.”

  Alfrieda sank to her knees at her mother’s side and pleaded, “Let her go, Momma! She kept them Injuns from hurtin’ us.”

  As Ernestine hesitated, Digger Greenberg asked the girl, “Did they say where they was headed, missy?”

  Willy piped up, “The White Mountains. I understood that much. That sassy Eskinya tolt Jezebel he’d carry her off to the Sierra Blanca, and don’t that mean White Mountains in dago?”

  Greenberg nodded and observed, “They’ve splintered off to jine up with Cochise. Last I heard, Cochise was sellin’ firewood to the army over by Apache Pass. I’d allow as how this Eskinya jasper hankers fer some peace and quiet, do we’uns let him have it.”

  Alfrieda shook her mother and insisted, “Momma! Tell these soldiers to let ’em go! Daddy will buy you another nigger if you ask him nice.”

  Ernestine sighed. “I don’t know what to say. It’s like I’ve just awakened from a bad dream. Are we really safe among our own people again? Where are we? Where is my Hansel? I want my Hansel.”

  Alfrieda Unger looked up at the men around her, and her face was determined for one so young as she said, “You-all just forget about Jezebel and her Injun beau, you hear?”

  Caldwell grinned. “Were you on your way to California, miss?”

  “To Los Angeles City. What about it?”

  “California is a free state. I don’t think, all things considered, I should risk a running gunfight with a peacefully inclined Apache just to recover a slave you wouldn’t be able to legally hold against her will.”

  Willy Unger scowled. “My pa will surely be pissed off at you, mister!” But Alfrieda leaped to her feet, threw her young arms around the startled officer, and kissed him on the cheek, gushing, “I knowed you was just a darlin’ man the moment I laid eyes on you!”

  Caldwell flushed beet red as he caught the amused looks of the men around them. He untangled himself a second time from the budding young woman. “After you’ve had something to eat and drink and a chance to rest up a bit, we’d better see about getting the three of you back to Fort Havasu.”

  Digger Greenberg spit. “I reckon we’d best start searchin’ out a place to make our stand. I see a swell over there where the creek makes that ox-bow turn. We’d best git up on top and lay these camel critters in a circle whilst there’s still time.”

  Caldwell asked, “What are you talking about?” and the scout pointed out across the playa to the west of his chin. Caldwell stared the way Greenberg and Rabbit-Boss were looking and was barely able to make out a shimmering necklace of tiny black beads moving toward them under a cloud of ocher dust. He nodded and said, “I see them. How many of them do you make it, Digger?”

  Greenberg said, “About six dozen. ’Course, half of ’em would be women and kids. More’n half’s on foot. This desert’s took a toll of their ponies. Likely what they was fussin’ ‘bout, afore they turnt these folks loose.”

  “Do you think it’s possible they’ve had enough? They may be on their way to join the others with Cochise in the White Mountains. They may have had enough of Diablito and his bloody ways. They may just want to get out of this hellish desert alive the same as us.”

  Greenberg snorted. “They may be sproutin’ wings and fixin’ to jine a Bible class, but I sort of doubt it. Iffen we’uns kin see them, they kin see ussen, and ’though you may not have noticed it, Lieutenant, they-s headed right this way!”

  A geologist, had one been there, could have explained how the waters of the long-ago lake, washing for thousands of years against a bank of more resistant clay, had left a low, smooth whaleback rise for the newer creek of mountain runoff to wind itself partway around. The shallow braided stream, though only ankle-deep, would probably discourage a mounted charge from directly north. How Caldwell intended to hold the other three-quarters of his perimeter was less clear. The mound was little more than a giant mud pie, and its gentle sides were not steep enough to slow a determined runner down enough to matter. The ten camels and three ponies were hobbled and forced to lay on their sides, with their possible flailing hooves on the outside of the little living ring of flesh. The patrol members and the Unger family took shelter, if that was the word, in the center. The unarmed Rabbit-Boss was detailed to stay with the rescued civilians and make sure they kept their heads down. Matt Caldwell knew he and his corporal were going to be too busy to worry about them in a little while. Muller was posted on the north side facing the creek. Caldwell braced his saddle gun across Fatima’s big dun belly to the south. Digger Greenberg’s sharp eyes and buffalo gun faced the oncoming Apache across another camel’s side on the west.

  The morning sun glinted on silver conchos and the white stripes Diablito’s distant men had painted across their faces. Greenberg bit off a chaw, chewed it soft, and called out, “Listen, everybody. Them jaspers is used to fightin’ Mexicans with muzzle-loaders. They aim to make a feint to spook us into volley fire, then as they see the puffs of our gunsmoke, they’ll throw themselves flat to let the balls pass over. They like to spring up after a volley and come in fast whilst they figure we’uns is busy reloadin’ with powder horn and ram. So mind you fire ragged and keep them six-guns handy. The onliest thing a six-gun’s good fer is the fine surprise it gives an Injun when he thinks you’re reloadin’ and you blow his fool face off!”

  Caldwell raised his voice. “That’s good advice, men. Remember to fire on my command and then fire at will. If they charge on horseback, remember to aim at the horse. Any other suggestions, Mr. Greenberg?”

  “Sure, let’s run fer it. Even doubled up, these critters oughta outrun Injun ponies, and if you’ll look again at them jaspers out to our west, half of ’em is afoot and the ponies left is in a sorry state.”

  “I hope you’re right, but
you know the U.S. Army never runs away from a fight, Mister Greenberg.”

  “I know, but you did ask fer suggestions and I reckon you wanted sensible ones. That aimin’ fer their ponies is a lot of shit, too.”

  “Mister Greenberg! Remember there are ladies present now!”

  “Sorry, but them Injuns ain’t about to let you shoot their ponies. They’ll leave ’em outten range with the women and kids. Apache mostly fight on foot. You might say as they’s Injun dragoons.”

  “You’re the expert on Apache, Mister Greenberg. Do you think we can get Diablito to parley?”

  Greenberg frowned and asked, “Parley? What in thunder do we’uns have to parley ‘bout?”

  “I might be able to get him to listen to reason. We’ve recovered these hostages, and if Diablito would turn over the actual murderers of those miners and the teamsters of the Unger wagon … ”

  “Great balls of fire! Why not ask Diablito to sign the pledge and give up smokin’ whilst you’re about it? Didn’t I tell you we’d jest chase that ornery redskin till he caught us? Well, we chased him and now we’uns is purely caught! We ain’t about to talk our way outten this, Lieutenant. You see the way they’s spreadin’ out as they move closer?”

  “I see it, but he may be bluffing. We’re a pretty big boo up here on this rise and behind fair cover. He may decide to go around us.”

  “All right, and what happens does he go around, Lieutenant?”

  “We get these people to safety and report Diablito’s presence and intentions in .this area, of course.”

  “Well, hell yes, it’s of course, an’ if I kin figure that, I suspicion Diablito kin, too. He’d be a pure fool to go around when he’s better off goin’ through.”

  From the other side of the circle, Corporal Muller called out, “I have some skirmishers out to the north, sir. Two braves on foot and out of rifle range across the creek.”

  Caldwell half rose, spotted the distant figures Muller was talking about, and dropped back down, saying, “Hold your fire over there. They look like a couple of kids.”

  “Suicide boys,” said Digger Greenberg. “Injuns got rules about lettin’ kids jine the warrior societies. No Apache kin own a pony or git married afore he’s showed the others he’s a fool hero four times. Does anybody charge in ahead, singin’ his death song and not botherin’ to duck, it’ll likely be a suicide boy. It’s the kids you has to watch fer in any war. It’s right hard to kill folks when you’re actin’ reasonable.”

  Greenberg noticed another Indian detaching himself from the main body and forging ahead on a limping pony. The others had formed a ragged line a quarter mile out on the open playa. They were deliberately tempting the patrol to waste ammunition, Greenberg knew. He raised his voice to say, “Don’t nobody fire at that range. You got mebbe a one-in-ten chance at wingin’ a man at a quarter mile, and them Apache cottons to the odds.”

  He saw the man on the limping pony was nearly close enough to hail, and turning to the rescued captives, he said, “You, Miss Frieda! Crawl up here aside me and see kin you tell me the tale of this jasper on the stove-in pony!”

  Alfrieda Unger started to rise, but Rabbit-Boss grabbed her wrist and snapped, “He say crawl, my word!”

  The girl did as she was told and joined Greenberg in peering over the side of his hobbled camel. The scout said, “Old Rabbit-Boss didn’t mean nothin’ by the way he snapped, missy, but you got to larn to keep that purty head of your’n down. Now, you see that jasper down slope on that limpin’ pony with the white blaze?”

  “That’s Kayo-Tenay. He’s their chief,” Alfrieda said.

  Greenberg frowned. “Not Diablito? I thought them rascals was Diablito’s band!”

  “We never heard mention of anyone called Diablito,” the girl insisted. “Their chief is Kaya-Tenay. Other big Injuns was called Ki-E-Ta, Eskinya, Naiche, Tso-Ay, Taza, and such. I’m sure if one of ’em had been called Diablito, we’d have heard about it. Our Jezebel got mighty close with them and … ”

  “You hear all this, Lieutenant?” Greenberg cut in. “We got us two hostile bands to report!”

  Caldwell said, “I know. What do you think that chief on the lame pony wants?”

  “Jest showin’ off an’ killin’ time. He’s riskin’ a useless mount and his own ornery hide to show them others what good medicine he has. He’s hopin’ we’ll jaw a spell whilst he sizes up our numbers and our nerves.”

  Greenberg braced his buffalo gun across the camel, took careful aim, and muttered, “He’s hopin’ wrong,” as he fired.

  Alfrieda screamed as the gun went off near her ear. Out on the flat, Kaya-Tenay flew from his saddle pad as if jerked by a string. He landed on his back in the dust, rolled in a backward somersault, and sprang to his feet as the pony trotted nervously toward the stream. As the Indian ran back toward his own line, Greenberg spit and said, “Only winged the son of a … sorry, missy. Anyways, I reckon he’s hit in the left lung from the way he spun offen that pony. Danged gun shoots a mite to my right.”

  Matt Caldwell asked, “Why in thunder did you do that, Greenberg? The man might have had something to say!”

  The scout replied, “Shoot, I knowed what he had to say. He’d begin tellin’ us he was not a bad man and only wanted to water his ponies in yon creek. Then, after I tolt him no, he’d allow as how we had more brains than to let the whole band git that close without we fired, so he’d beg fer tobacco and gunpowder to keep us jawin’ whilst he sized us up and got the others into position and heated up fer a rush. I reckon my knockin’ him offen that pony’s sort of set their time table back a mite, and anyhow, my Spanish is rusty.”

  “What do you think their next more might be?”

  “That’s what they’re talkin’ over. I see this Kaya-Whatsits has gone back to his squaws and is still on his feet. He’s either tougher’n most or I only fetched him a flesh wound. Hope it festers on the mother … uh, mean old Injun.”

  Corporal Muller said, “One of them Injun kids is stompin’ around in a circle near the creek, Lieutenant. I think I can nail him at the range he’s giving me.”

  Caldwell said, “Wait until he starts across the creek. I want Miss Unger back with her family if you don’t need her anymore, Mr. Goldberg.”

  The scout nodded. “I’m obliged, missy, but you’d best git your purty head ofien the sky line.” As the girl started to crawl back to the center of the ring, Greenberg told Muller, “That’s a warm-up fer a crazy move, Corporal. Your Injun’s singin’ his death song and makin’ medicine with his Apache gods right now. When and iffen he gits his steam up, he figures to come in fast, touch your camel’s foot with the flat of his bow, and run like hell.”

  Muller frowned and asked, “What would anyone want to do a fool thing like that for?”

  “To show the squaws how brave he is, of course. Injuns don’t make war like we’uns. It’s more like a game to them. You ever play checkers?”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, then you know ’bout givin’ a poor player a few free moves to make the game more interesting. Do an Injun slap at an enemy without hurtin’ him, he scores a point and shows everybody how little he thinks of the hombre he’s a fightin’. You see ...”

  But Muller yelled, “Here he comes!” and fired as the painted youth splashed ankle-deep through the shallows of the braided stream. The .44 caliber Minie ball crashed into the Indian’s upper teeth, ploughed through between his palate and lower braincase, and severed the spinal cord as it exited via the back of his neck. The lifeless body crumpled in a heap in the running water as Muller yipped, “Hot damn! I got him!”

  “Watch his partner,” warned Greenberg as Muller started to reload. Trooper Rogers sighed “Jesus!” and fired as the second youth darted toward the fallen boy. He hit the Indian in the leg and dropped him, wounded, a few yards from his comrade. Rogers said, “I’m sorry,” and it wasn’t clear whether he was sorry he fired without orders, sorry he missed, or sorry for taking the Lord’s name in vain. Trooper
Streeter said, “I’ll get him!” and finished the wounded youth with a round through the chest as Caldwell yelled, “Hold your fixe over there!”

  Abashed, Muller finished reloading as he” murmured, “No excuse, sir. It won’t happen again.’’

  Mollified, Caldwell said, “That was good shooting, men. I just want you to remember yourselves, though. We’re in a lot of trouble if they all decide to rush in at once and half our guns are empty!”

  There was a murmur of agreement around the circle, and Caldwell asked Greenberg, “What does it look like? Do you think they’re getting ready for an all-out attack? I don’t see how they can hope to take us if they let us whittle them down a few at a time.” Greenberg nodded. “I suspicion they don’t neither. Their best bet is to jest lay siege whilst the sun does their work fer ’em.”

  “Come now, we’ve plenty of food, and I ordered the canteens refilled before we dug in up here. We can hold this rise indefinitely.”

  The scout allowed, “Few days mebbe. Nobody knows where we’uns is, so nobody figures to relieve ussen. They got ponies to eat and all the water they need to outlast ussen, and come nightfall, they’ll start creepin’ in to hit us with plungin’ arrows from the dark. They’ll be able to make this rise out agin’ the stars. We’uns’ll jest be lookin’ down at lots of black nothin’. I bin sort of hopin’ they’d charge us in the daylight, but I suspicion we’ve taught ’em patience, and yep, they’ll wait us out a mite afore they makes another move.”