The Vengeance of Ender Smith

by Tony Masero

  “Silence!” hissed Alchesay. “There are guards above us on the walkways around the walls. We only do this now as it is the dark of the moon, we have waited a month for this moment to escape. Now we come to take you with us to save your life but do not make a murmur or we will leave you behind.”

  “I am grateful,” husked Ender. “I will be quiet.”

  “Good.” They continued to lay the fat on until Ender’s raw body from neck to waist was covered in a coating.

  “Now come,” said Alchesay. “We will help you. We must get to the wall, we have a rope. The gate is too heavily guarded but there is only one man on the wall. We will kill him and climb down. Then we must run.”

  With their help, Ender managed to lumber alongside them as they moved in fits and starts past the shadowed apartments that circled the courtyard. They left him and he waited below whilst the two climbed the steps up to a section of wall beyond the gateway. Ender hung there, trying to recover some sense of his surroundings and bring his numbed brain into focus. The pain helped, it sharpened his mind and he began to feel some response from his limbs.

  “Come!” it was a brief whispered command from above and as swiftly as he could Ender climbed the steps on all fours up to the fighting platform that roofed the courtyard rooms. He saw the dark heap of crumpled clothing that marked where the guard lay to one side, a slick black pool spreading outwards from the throat.

  Juba was lashing one end of the rope around a chimney support, the other he lowered over the side of the hacienda wall. In seconds, Alchesay was over the wall and down. Juba nodded at Ender and with great difficulty he began his descent, the agony was extreme as his strained arms accepted his weight. Biting his lip against the pain, Ender clambered down, dropping heavily the last few feet.

  Then, Juba was beside them and the three, moved at a crouching run away from the walls.

  “We have three hours until they change the guard,” whispered Alchesay. “We must get as far away as possible in that time for then they will come after us with every man they have.”

  They set out at the loping run favored by the Apache, a rate at which a brave could normally cover seventy miles a day on foot. It was an easy pace, steady and even and they followed the flow of the stream, which was easier to see in the darkness. Within an hour, Ender was beginning to stumble, the effects of his torture catching up with him. He urged himself on, using the Indian technique to repress pain and shove the ache to the back of his mind, focusing on each step forward and every barrier that blocked his path.

  The two Chiricahua forged ahead. Elder knew they could do no more for him. With their pragmatic mentality they had risked enough by releasing him and now it was up to himself alone to survive. They would not bring themselves down for his benefit; it was only the white man who would offer up two lives to save one.

  Ender knew he could not go the distance. He must rest and that meant finding a hiding place where he could stay until he was fit enough to journey on. With this in mind he plunged into the shallows of the stream, forging his way through the water and losing his scent against any dogs the pursuers might bring after them.

  He estimated that two hours had passed; he had another one if the guard was not discovered until the relief arrived. Already the two Indians were gone in the darkness ahead but Ender could see that the horizon beyond the end of the valley was lightening. Dawn was approaching and at least by its light he might find somewhere to rest up. He crossed the center part of the stream and made his way along the shallows on the opposite bank, here the valley reached up higher beyond the cover of the tree line and he reckoned there might be somewhere on the slope to hide. Stepping on broad stones where he could he left the stream.

  Ender began to scale the valley slope, working his way through the verdant brush and finding that the constant movement was freeing his limbs and making the going somewhat easier. The continuing pain from his chest wounds was relegated to a muted blanket of ache that he kept thrust to the back of his mind as he climbed.

  He fell into the hole more than discovered it. The small cavity was barely big enough to take his size and it was covered by brush. In the gloom Ender dropped into the opening, the jagged branches tearing at his already wrecked flesh. Grunting in pain, Ender searched the small cavity.

  It was enough. A hole excavated by a tumbling boulder that had fallen free he surmised. Bare stone made up the walls and the floor was covered in soil, with small animal bones and leaf debris lying scattered. Ender snuggled down as best he could, dragging leafy branches across the opening and feeling a wave of exhaustion as his activity ceased. Before he even knew it he was asleep.

  He awoke to the sound of baying dogs.

  He was cold and clutched his arms around his naked torso, feeling again the sharp reminder of the lash marks. Cautiously, he peered between the branches across the opening. Down in the valley forty feet below, an army of men was scouring the banks of the stream, leashed dogs barked and moved ahead of the men.

  Ender checked the position of the sun. It was still early, maybe he had slept for two or three hours and he felt better for it. But he was thirsty and hunger gnawed at his belly. Pushing the thoughts aside he watched the men below where he could see them between the tree cover amongst the cottonwoods and oaks.

  There were a great many of them and they called and shouted to each other, their cries echoing along the length of the valley. Ender sunk back down again into the hole and considered his situation. He was glad the Indians had covered him with the deer fat, it kept filth and flies from his wounds and he stood a better chance of healing as a result. Water would be a problem. Maybe later he could creep down to the stream.

  A great cheer went up from the searchers below and Ender hurried to peep out. He saw horsemen returning from the head of the valley. They pushed a prisoner before them. It was Juba. He had been beaten badly and stumbled along with one arm hanging limp and bloody by his side.

  Behind the horsemen two Indians came carrying a long pole on their shoulders, hanging from the limb and lashed by wrists and ankles was the dead body of Alchesay, his whole upper body soaked in blood. It looked as if they scalped him too. Ender watched the passing cavalcade with bitterness at the savage treatment and sadness for the two Indians who had saved him.

  He heard footsteps crunching through the undergrowth and ducked down, covering his face with dirt from the cavern floor. There were the murmur of voices and the crackle of broken twigs as the searchers neared. A shadow passed across the cave mouth, the opening thankfully unseen by the man outside. Ender trembled, he did not know if it was the cold or fear but he gritted his teeth until the footsteps had faded into the distance.

  In a while the noisy sounds of the search retreated as the men moved further up the valley and Ender relaxed. He fell again into a deep sleep that was populated by unremembered dreams.

  Chapter Four

  For three days and nights Ender stayed in the hole.

  On the third night he left the cavern. Only then did he feel it was safe enough to make his way down to the stream and drink, up until then he had been licking dew from the leaves at the cavern entrance. He ate moss from the stones to suppress the hunger pangs and chewed on some inner bark he ripped from a fallen tree.

  He began to make his way up along the stream bank, listening with every step for any sign of guards posted along the way. He heard nothing but he smelt tobacco smoke on the night air. It was coming from up ahead and Ender moved cautiously on.

  He found the man crouched over a small fire boiling a pot of coffee in a clearing on the opposite side of the stream. The man was one of Quinlan’s vaqueros and obviously thought he was safe enough and that the runaway was long gone by now.

  Ender lowered himself into the water, which was only a few feet deep, he lay with his head above water and felt with his fingers until he found a decent sized smooth-surfaced rock at the bottom. Working his way through the rippling water he came to the bank and slipped out of the stream. Craw
ling on all fours, Ender worked his way through the brush towards the campfire.

  A horse whickered in the darkness as it scented his approach and Ender froze but the vaquero paid the pony no heed and only prodded at the fire with a twig and smoked his cigarette unconcernedly.

  In a rush, Ender tore from the brush. He swung back the heavy rock and before the crouching man could turn, delivered a heavy blow to the back of his head. The man fell forward onto the fire and Ender leapt across him, pounding with the rock. He felt the skull cave in beneath the blows and only then stood up. He pulled the man away from the fire and carefully picked up the fallen coffee pot before everything was spilt.

  Ender found tortillas and goat cheese in the vaquero’s saddlebags and quickly demolished it all. He sucked coffee from the remains in the pot and began to undress the man. In minutes he had a shirt on his back and the fellow’s pistol belt around his waist. Dragging the body into cover under nearby bushes, he went to find the horse.

  Saddled, with the vaquero’s rifle slung in a sleeve under his leg he was mounted and riding in another ten minutes. Ender knew there would be more guards ahead and he kept the Mexican’s bloodstained sombrero pulled low hoping to disguise himself as messenger from the ranch.

  He was only stopped once before leaving the valley.

  With a “Quién es él?” a man with a rifle stepped from the shadows.

  “Es yo, amigo,” Ender answered as gruffly as he could.

  “Adónde usted va?”

  “Mesajero”

  Ender did not wait to say more; he urged the horse on hoping the man would let him pass without further query. It worked and he rode on without any more difficulty.

  He left the valley and was on the open plain as dawn light began to clear the sky.

  He had no memory of reaching home.

  He heard mumbling voices and his vision cleared to find himself lying on the floor on a buffalo robe. His chest was tight with bandages and two identical faces peered down at him.

  Ender recognized it was Chatowitch, that was for sure but he was seeing double and he surmised that Caroline’s beating had damaged his eyes.

  “En-da! You are with us again. It is good,” said Catowitch.

  Her double remained silent and Ender was hard put to figure it out.

  “He will live,” Catowitch said to the other Catowitch.

  “Ho!” said the double to Ender. “I am Delsay, your new wife.”

  “But you look the same,” whispered Ender dryly. “Am I seeing things? How can this be?”

  Chatowitch laughed, her eyes sparkling. “No, you fool. We are twin sisters, that is all.”

  “Twins! Well I’ll be damned,” muttered Ender. “Give me a drink, will you?”

  The water on his dry lips tasted sweet and after a while Ender felt able to sit up. “How long have I been here? I don’t remember a thing about getting back.”

  “You came in three days ago,” said Catowitch. “You were bad. Crazy with fever. The wounds on your chest had festered but they are well now. We cleaned them and having given new bandages. You slept and to sleep was good. Many things heal in sleep.”

  Ender looked at the duplicate of Chatowitch, “How long as she been here?”

  “Delsay has been with me only two days. She is pleased to be your wife.”

  “Can she cook?”

  “As well as me, if not better.”

  “Then get to it, girl,” he said to Delsay. “Because I ain’t eaten in a while and I reckon I could down a whole buffalo, horns an’ all I’m so hungry.”

  Chatowitch pulled a long face. “The man is well. Already he gives orders and thinks of nothing but his belly. Such is the way of men, sister.”

  “And complaining is the way of women,” Ender answered just as quickly. “Now do as I say, my stomach is hitting my backbone here.”

  Over the next few weeks, Ender settled down to recuperation and discovering how life was to be for him with two wives in tow. It proved to be not too daunting and Catowitch seemed to warm more to him with her sister present and the three together got along well enough. He hired a new worker on at the ranch, a neighbor who would come in to see to the cattle. The women he left to handle the crops and when things came into season he planned to sell them on to the quartermaster up at Fort Bowie. It was a successful little business plan and would allow him the time to maintain his job as deputy marshal and scout for the military when needed.

  Delsay remained a wife in name only but he took Catowitch to his bed and they settled to their lovemaking as easily as the rest of their life. Catowitch proved to be a passionate lover and as soon as he had healed, Ender was hard put to put up with her frequent demands for his attentions. To his surprise, Ender found himself comfortable with the arrangement and life with the two women became an amenable affair and he found himself looking forward to the prospect of adding to their family group when Catowitch told him that she wanted a child.

  But trouble came calling one day in the shape of Cyrus Land.

  Ender was pottering around the house whilst the women were out in the fields when he heard the call from the front yard.

  “Ender Smith, you in there?”

  Ender picked up his shotgun and opened the door. Land sat hunched casually astride his pony with ten rough looking armed men closely packed behind him. He tipped back the brim of his bowler hat and smiled at Ender.

  “How you feeling, Marshal? You did well to make it back here, got to say, it sure showed a lot of brass to cut and run like that.”

  “What do you want here?” Ender asked gruffly.

  “Me?” shrugged Land. “I’m just a messenger boy.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “Come on, Smith,” said Land easily. “Lay off the hard man, we’re professionals. You know there’s nothing personal in it. Those creeps down there pay me well and that’s my only interest.”

  “We can all pick out who we work for,” said Ender. “Gunsels like you come a dime a dozen, you sold your soul a long time back, Land, so don’t stack me up against your miserable hide. Those two down there are a diseased pair and you know it. They should be put under and salt sprinkled over their graves.”

  Land rubbed his narrow jaw thoughtfully. “You disappoint me, Marshal. I thought you had more class than that. Well, okay, if that’s the way you want to play it….”

  He drew on the reins and kicked heels. Ender raised the shotgun and levered back the hammers in one motion. Then, he saw what Land was revealing.

  Catowitch and Delsay were standing behind him, held up by their long hair bunched in the fists of two of the riders.

  “Right pretty, ain’t they?” said Land, moving his pony to one side. “Here’s the word, Marshal. You bring in that Indian. You bring him in to Mister Quinlan and no harm’ll come to these dusky little maidens of yourn.”

  “I don’t have him,” said Ender. “He’s up at the fort, in the guardhouse.”

  Land shrugged. “Don’t matter to me where he is. Go get him out.”

  “I can’t do that and you know it. Go tell that sick bastard you call a boss, he wants to come up here and fight with the army over possession he’s more than welcome.”

  “Shit! Boy, you just don’t get it, do you? You’ve got a chance here to walk away clean. Hand over one no-account redskin and Quinlan will forget all about you. Its easy, one dumb red man for a world of peace.”

  Ender’s eyes narrowed. “Leave go my girls and get off my land.”

  “I’ve got ten men here, Smith. I could have your hide peeled if I wanted.”

  “No, sir. Before they got me I’d blow that damned tiny head of yours off your shoulders,” to press the point he raised the barrels of the shotgun until they were centered on Land’s face.

  Land chuckled. “Okay,” he said. “Let them gals go, boys. The Marshal here needs his squaw women in one piece. But I’m telling you, Smith, it’d be best to hand over the renegade.”

  With that, he tugged on the reins and pul
led his pony around and rode off, the men following behind. Both Chatowitch and Delsay rushed over to Ender, who lowered the shotgun and leaned weakly against a porch support post.

  “That is the man who hurt you?” asked Catowitch.

  “They work for him.”

  “These are evil people,” added Delsay.

  “I want you gals carrying weapons from now on,” said Ender. “I can’t be here all the time. I think we’ll be okay for a while now they’ve left their warning but there might come a time when they’ll be back. I guess they’ll wait and see what happens at Common Dog’s trial first.”

  As it was, the time was fast approaching for Common Dog’s case to be heard and Catowitch had been to visit him with fresh clothes and see that he had enough to live a little more comfortably in the guardhouse cells. She came back with the worrying news that gallows were already being erected on the parade ground. None of which boded well for Common Dog.

  Ender did not like the sound of that at all and he was preparing to take a trip up to the fort and have words with the Major about it when Sergeant Giltrap came riding fast into the ranch. His horse had been hard driven and had a sweat on it and the Sergeant dismounted quickly, even before the pony had slid to a full halt.

  “Major wants you, Ender,” he hollered as he stamped up onto the porch.

  Ender was already saddled up in preparation for his ride to the fort and about to go out and mount up when Giltrap arrived.

  “What’s up?” he asked, seeing the normally calm Giltrap looking both grim faced and excited.

  “It’s your laddie there,” Giltrap explained. “He’s made a break for it.”

  “Common Dog?”

  “The very one,” Giltrap agreed.

  Catowitch and Delsay both came out onto the porch, their faces creased in worried frowns.

  “Ladies,” greeted Giltrap, tipping the brim of his hat. “They were taking him across from the guardhouse, bringing him over to the holding cell next to the trial rooms. The civilian folks at the fort had gathered around to take a look at the boy,” Giltrap explained. “Well, he sees one of the trader’s there with his small lad with him. They’re gawping away as folks do at such an event but the fellow’s carrying a .44 pistol stuck in his waistband, the grip sticking out plain as day. Common Dog has his hands manacled in front and takes one look at the gallows and makes a grab for the gun, the trader snatches up his son for fear of his life and Common Dog pulls the pistol free. He cocks the wretched thing and fires at his guards. The Major thought it would be better if he sent Peyote and Sanza along with them, to make things easier, you understand?”