Battle Fury

by Matt Chisholm

  Harvey Dana laughed a short barking laugh now and said: ‘Look what I brought you, boys. Maybe this trip ain’t wasted after all. From the look of her this one’s as hot as chili.’

  The men grinned.

  Serafina saw that Joe’s and Mart’s hands were tied behind their backs.

  One of the men said: ‘This gal has horses an’ by Jesus we need ’em.’

  ‘All right,’ said Dana. ‘Go get ’em.’

  ‘How do we know them Indians ain’t still around?’

  ‘We don’t. But we have to have them horses. Bert, Hank, you ride down there and rope what we need. We’ll cover you from up here.’

  The two men looked at each other. They didn’t like what they had to do, but somebody had to do it and it wasn’t their habit to argue with Dana. They went to their prisoners’ horses and swung into the saddle.

  ‘You keep watchin’,’ Bert said, ‘an’ don’t you stop for one minute, hear? I ain’t too sure I like this.’

  ‘Go ahead,’ Dana told him, ‘them Indians had a taste of these repeaters an’ if they have any sense, they won’t stick around for more.’

  The two men rode off down the hill. Serafina turned and watched them. That left three men between herself and her man. Joe was looking calm, almost resigned, but she knew that he was banking on her.

  She spoke to him in Spanish—‘What will these men do with you?’

  Joe said: ‘Kill us. They have to.’

  Dana said: ‘Speak white, black boy. What she say?’

  ‘She axed why we was prisoners.’

  ‘An’ you said?’

  ‘You was poor white trash an’ the only way you could kill a man was to tie his hands first,’ said Joe.

  That brought the attention of all four men on Joe. The man nearest him kicked him in the groin. He doubled up and fell on his face.

  Serafina thrust the rifle forward and fired point-blank. The action was instinctive. The man was hurled around by the heavy slug hitting him at close range and it smashed him back against the face of the boulder that the air sang out of his lungs.

  Turmoil broke out.

  Dana swung his rifle on Serafina and, as he did so, Joe came suddenly very much alive, scissored his ankles around Dana’s and twisted him from his feet. The man’s face crashed into the great rock.

  Mart was in action at the identical instant, kicking the nearest man in the knee and, as he bent forward in sudden agony, drove his knee into his face so hard that he sent him backward head over heels.

  Serafina was no more than a fraction of a second behind. There was no time to reload, but the butt of a rifle at close range is a deadly weapon and this she drove into the back of the neck of the man nearest to her. There was a sound that suggested that his neck was broken.

  Joe jack-knifed to his feet and stamped down on the hand of a man who reached out for rifle and, as he did so, he yelled: ‘Get a gun.’

  Serafina dropped her ancient single-shot and leapt forward to scoop a light repeater from the dust. Utter ferocity possessed her now. She fired and levered and fired again. The slam of the rifle echoed the thud of the bullets into human flesh. The little Mexican Indian girl was the executioner of her man’s captors.

  She would have emptied the gun if Joe had not shouted for her to stop. He could hear the other two men returning, hurrying their horses up the hillside.

  ‘Cut me loose, woman,’ he commanded her.

  She dropped the rifle, found a knife in the belt of a dead man and slashed through the rawhide that held his wrists. Joe didn’t waste any time. He picked up the rifle, jacked a new round into the breech and ran out from behind the boulder.

  The nearest rider, Bert, was within fifty yards of him. He aimed, fired and missed. At once, both riders turned the horses and started back down the hill.

  Mart said: ‘Let ’em go.’

  ‘Like Hell I do,’ Joe said. ‘That bastard’s on my favorite horse.’

  His second shot knocked the man out of the saddle.

  Mart said: ‘Now you mention it—I’m kinda fond of that horse of mine too.’

  Joe sighted and said: ‘One hoss comin’ up, suh.’

  He fired and thought he missed, but after the horse had made another half-dozen jumps down the hill, the man fell out of the saddle.

  Silence fell on the scene. Gunsmoke drifted lazily on the air. The three of them were all slightly deaf from the shooting.

  Joe sat down and said with infinite weariness: ‘Wa-al, I reckon that is that.’ Serafina went to him, dropped on one knee beside him and took a rope-calloused hand in hers. Joe looked at her and said: ‘That’s my gal,’ in English.

  ‘What do you say?’ she asked in her own language.

  He smiled one-sidedly and said in the same tongue: ‘I was praising you, little one.’ She put a cheek against his hand.

  Mart said: ‘Do I have to stand here all day while you two spoon?’

  Joe got to his feet, took the knife from the girl and freed Mart. The big man rubbed his wrists and looked around him.

  ‘I reckon,’ he said, conversationally, ‘I ain’t never seen so many dead men in one place at one time.’

  Joe, thorough as ever and trusting no man, drew his Colt and inspected the outlaws carefully one by one. Only one of them was alive. Dana had a broken back and there was death already in his eyes. He looked up at Mart quite calmly and asked in a faint voice: ‘What’re the chances, Mart?’

  Mart said: ‘There ain’t any, Harve. You’re cashin’ in, boy.’

  Dana smiled—‘Knew I’d get it in the back, but I never thought it would come from a Mex gal.’

  ‘Life’s full of surprises,’ Mart said softly. ‘Any kin, Harve?’

  ‘None that would own me. That little niece of yours, Mart, she...’

  He didn’t finish the sentence because he was dead.

  Mart sighed. He turned away and stood staring down into the valley.

  ‘I suppose,’ he said, ‘we bury ’em now.’

  Joe looked upward into the sky. Mart followed his gaze and saw the circling vultures.

  ‘They does a purty good job,’ Joe said, ‘an’ we don’t have too much time with them redsticks around.’

  ‘I reckon,’ Mart said wearily, ‘let’s go catch up some horses.’

  Serafina caught Mart’s and Joe’s horses and brought them back up the hill. They mounted and Serafina got up behind her man, putting her arms around his waist.

  ‘Where do we go now?’ she asked.

  ‘To the Storm house,’ he told her.

  ‘But I will not be welcome there. They are fine folk.’

  ‘I’m a-goin’ there,’ he told her, ‘so you go with me.’

  They set off down the hill after the horses, leaving the dead behind them. The circling birds dropped out of the sky to their grisly feast.

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was Saul Hoddick and Gregorio Nunez, Mart’s two riders, at the instigation of Mart’s wife, Linda, who rode into the western valleys to scout and look for Indian sign. It was also Linda’s contention that if Mart had run into trouble and had maybe been hurt, he would have headed for their home for shelter.

  On arrival at Mart’s headquarters, the two riders found that though somebody had been there before them, that somebody had not been their employer. Indians had been there and, though they had not destroyed the house by fire as might have been expected, they had left chaos behind them. They had enjoyed an orgy of destruction, smashing furniture and precious window glass, china and anything else they could lay their hands on. A trail of flour ran from the kitchen to the yard where some brave had carried out a torn flour-sack. All Linda’s gaily-colored curtains had been torn down and carried off.

  The two men were looking around them when they heard the distant sound of a shot that took them on the run into the yard.

  Saul’s sharp eyes caught the faint movement to the south and the light stir of dust. Shortly after they could make out loose horses and the riders hurr
ying them along. Guns popped and Gregorio gave a yell and legged it to his horse, piling into the saddle and heaving his carbine from its boot as he urged his horse forward. Saul wasn’t far behind and had his sorrel at a flat run before his feet were in the stirrup-irons. As they raced north along the valley, the Mexican signed to him to angle west while he himself swung to the east so that they would ride wide on either side of the approaching people.

  Before they had run a quarter of a mile, they both knew that the three people with the driven stock were flanked by Indians who swooped in on them one by one, fired and whirled in a wild retreat. They could also see that the attacked were their boss, Joe Widbee and the woman, Serafina. The two men were riding like Comanches, lines between their teeth and firing desperately with their rifles at their attackers. In a moment, the Indians who were doing the outflanking were themselves outflanked as the two cowhands swept up from east and west, firing into them. Under those circumstances it was not the Indian habit to stand and fight. They had horses and horses were to use to the best advantage. Surprised, they whirled around and fled for the high land bordering the valley.

  The firing died away, Gregorio and Saul turned to ride along with the others and Mart yelled: ‘Never more goddam pleased to see your two ugly faces, boys.’

  Saul grunted and Gregorio flashed a smile and they yelled at the horses to keep them on the move. While they drove them into the corral, Mart went to make a disgusted inspection of his house. All he said was: ‘Linda’s goin’ to raise Hell when she sees this. She’ll blame me. She wanted to stay put. It don’t mean a thing that that flour yonder could be my guts.’

  Joe said: ‘They leave any grub? My belly is sure convinced my throat been cut.’

  There wasn’t much left, but Serafina managed to rustle them up some sort of meal. By the time they had eaten, night was coming on and they decided to fort up where they were till daylight. It was agreed that their forces shouldn’t be divided and that the next day they would move on to Three Creeks. They set a one-man guard on the roof of the house so that the corral could be over-looked and slept as best they could. Joe was grumbling because he’d lost three good horses during the day. Mart reminded him that if it hadn’t been for Serafina he’d have lost the whole bunch, but he grumbled just the same.

  They were aroused once during the night by Saul who was on watch. He reckoned he’d seen somebody trying to sneak into the corral after the horses and discouraged them with a couple of shots from his Spencer. They weren’t troubled any more during the hours of darkness, but when dawn came, they found the tracks of two Indians who had approached the corral from the west. They ate a meager breakfast, saddled up and put Joe’s horses on a couple of lines so they could be led. That way it was reckoned they could hit a fair pace and not waste time keeping the animals together. They rode with some confidence, for they were now four armed men and Serafina could look out for the horses if trouble came. They were fired on once before they came over the ridge to Three Creeks, but Mart and Gregorio flushed out the two Indians who were hidden in the rocks above them, put them to flight and were troubled no more.

  Mart had been prepared to see men on the creeks, but he never expected the sight that met his eyes as he rode his horse over the ridge. Going north and south, there were tents, lean-tos and shanties as far as the eye could see. He stopped and looked in wonder. All he could find to say was: ‘I hope to Hell Will knows what he’s doin’ letting that army stay around here.’

  Saul said bluntly: ‘Boss, you jest consider—you’d need a regiment of blue-bellies to move on that bunch.’

  Mart shook his head and rode on down.

  When they rode into the yard, Mart braced himself for what he looked on the worst ordeal of his life—telling Kate about Harvey Dana. The whole family were out there to greet them and he searched for his niece’s face among them and found it. At once he saw the change that had come over her since he had left. Her face was pale and drawn and her dark eyes seemed to fill it. When they met his, he looked away.

  Then he was down off his horse and Linda was in front of him. She just touched his arm and they smiled at each other. She could see from his face what he had been through. Then Martha was kissing him and Will shaking him by the hand. Melissa was throwing her arms around her beloved Joe and crying and Joe was saying: ‘Don’t you take on so, honey. No Indian’s goin’ to take old Joe’s hair. There just ain’t enough of it.’

  After that there was a turmoil of greetings, backs were slapped and men panning in the creeks looked across to see what was going on. When the noise had died down a little, Mart asked: ‘How’s Pete comin’ along?’ He was aware that his arm was around Kate’s shoulder.

  Will said: ‘I reckon he’ll get by. Coupla days he’ll be chipper.’

  Kate said: ‘Come on in and see him, Uncle Mart.’

  So he found himself alone with Kate, walking through the house. In the center of the big room, she stopped and looked at him steadily.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  ‘Met up with a passle of Utes. Touch an’ go for a while, girl, but we shook ’em off.’

  ‘Did you...?’

  There was silence between them for a moment, then Mart said: ‘He had a bunch of hardcases with him, Kate. Joe an’ me, we braced ’em, but they got the drop on us. Suckered like greenhorns, we was. They would of killed us if Serafina didn’t happen along.’

  ‘You didn’t bring anybody in, Uncle Mart,’ she said.

  ‘Nope. There wasn’t no point. They was all dead, girl.’

  Her gaze stayed steadily on him for a moment, then she began to wilt. He put his arms around her and held her head against his shoulder.

  She stayed there for maybe a minute before she pulled back from him. He saw that her eyes were dry.

  ‘Come visit with Pete,’ she said and her voice was firm.

  By God, Mart thought, she’s as good a woman as her ma.

  Pete was propped up against a couple of pillows. It wasn’t easy to recognize him as the tough, swaggering cowhand they were used to having around the place.

  Mart said: ‘Katie, this son-of-a-gun is purely bluffin’ you-all. There ain’t a damn thing wrong with him. Mind, I’d play it for all it was worth with a nurse like you was I his age.’

  Pete blushed.

  ‘Shucks, Mart,’ he said, ‘I keep a-tellin’ Miz Kate I’m just fine an’ dandy an’ all I need is a little exercise. I reckon it’s that Riley Brack talkin’ ’em into keepin’ me penned here so he can make all the runnin’.’

  ‘Wouldn’t surprise me a-tall,’ Mart agreed.

  He turned and walked out, leaving his niece with the sick man. At the yard door, he came on Riley Brack. The question was on his face.

  Mart said: ‘Dead as mutton, Rile.’

  He shouldered past the boy before he could say anything. He found the rest of the family bunched together talking twenty to the dozen. He put his arm around his wife’s shoulder and she squeezed his hand. That was as far as she would go publicly in demonstrating her feelings for him. It was enough.

  Will said: ‘Joe tells us you been fighting the whole Ute nation, hermano.’

  ‘Just about, I reckon,’ Mart agreed. ‘But that ain’t the end of it, Will. Both sides have gone too far. This thing’ll spread. There’s been too many killed.’

  They told him about the raid by the Utes on Broken Spur. Then Will dropped the bombshell—’We had word there’s cholera in the camps.’

  Mart jerked up his head and asked: ‘You sure about that?’

  ‘We ain’t sure about nothin’.’

  ‘But there’s still miners around.’

  ‘You ever hear of men leaving gold for cholera even. One sickness is worse’n the other.’

  Mart said: ‘Anybody here know what cholera looks like?’

  They all looked at each other.

  Joe said: ‘I seen it an’ I’d know it if’n I seen it again.’

  ‘Jody,’ Will said to his youngest son, ‘g
o saddle a couple of horses. We’ll go check this.’

  ‘Now, Will,’ Martha said, ‘don’t you go doin’ nothin’ foolish. If there’s sickness, we keep well clear of the diggers.’

  Will just looked at her and said: ‘Jode, you hump yourself when I say, boy.’

  Jody moved off fast.

  Martha pursed her lips. She didn’t like it one little bit, but she knew better than to fight her husband when he had that look on his face. She thought of him catching the sickness and bringing it back into the family and the thought turned her sick to the stomach. She walked back into the house, washing her hands of the affair. It wasn’t often that she failed to keep her troubles to herself, but now she was so worried that she went straight into her daughter, who was straightening Pete Hasso’s pillows and said: ‘Your father’s taken leave of his senses. There’s word that cholera’s broken out on the diggings on Broken Spur and he’s going up to check. Don’t we have enough trouble here without him bringing the sickness into the house?’

  Kate turned a frowning face to her mother.

  ‘Pa knows what he’s doing, ma,’ she said.

  Martha leaned against the door jamb, utterly weary and said: ‘Does he now?’

  Pete said: ‘Don’t you fret none, Miz Storm. It’ll turn out all right.’

  Martha turned away from this feeble comfort. Kate went into the big room and looked out onto the yard. She watched Jody come up with the two saddled horses and watched her father and Joe Widbee step into the saddle. The faces of the other men were grave. Will looked up and saw her. He smiled a little and lifted his hand to her. She replied in kind and then the two men were trotting their horses around the house. When Kate turned, she saw her mother watching them go from the rear window.