Cougar opined, "Tobadzistsini would not prod us toward a losing war. He is our Father, not the white man's."
"I agree," said Wolf. "But we are few in number. Even with our captured weapons, we cannot defeat the horse soldiers. And when they call for more..."
"If they can call for more," the shaman instantly corrected Wolf. "They have no talking wire, if you remember. Riders must be sent to far away, and we have all the men we need to stop them. Once the settlement is closed to newcomers, we strike with all the strength of Tobadzistsini in our arms."
"So let it be!" Wolf said, smiling much like the beast from which he drew his name.
"So let it be!" the others shouted all at once, their voices echoing.
* * *
J.D. and Kate ran into Marshal Dill as they were leaving the Café, well fed and mellow after their agreement to remain in town another day.
"Still here, I see," Dill greeted them, stating the obvious.
"Sharp eyes, you've got," Kate said.
"Uh-huh. And you'll be heading out today, just like we talked about?"
"That's still up in the air, Marshal," J.D. replied. "We started thinking, over breakfast, that we might stay on a little while and have a look around your little town."
"Little's the word for it, all right," Dill said. "Not much of anything to interest strangers like yourselves."
"You don't exactly sell it, do you?" Kate inquired.
"Pardon?" The lawman looked confused, his fat cheeks reddening.
"The town," she clarified, smiling. "Suppose somebody came, wanting to settle down. You'd try and talk them out of it?"
"You two?" Dill almost smirked at that. "I doubt—"
"It's hypothetical," Kate said.
"I don't know what that means," the marshal said. "But any man and woman wearin' guns tied down strike me as poor fits for Inferno."
"I'd have thought the very opposite," J.D. observed, "given its name."
"That's due to weather," Gill replied.
"Ah." He winked at Kate and said, "I told you so."
"Well, since we settled that..."
"Nothing to settle, Marshal," Kate cut in. We're staying on another day or so, seeing the sights."
"Free country, I suppose."
"The last we heard," J.D. agreed. "We also heard about the murders overnight. McKibbon, I believe the name was."
"Way outside my jurisdiction," Dill informed them both. "Now, if you'll 'scuse me, I got mornin' rounds to make."
They watched him waddle off along the sidewalk, westbound, Kate frowning to beat the band. "A real bundle of energy, that one," she sneered.
"Too late to change him, I imagine," J.D. said.
"Unless the killers come in town and raise some hell right here."
"Do I hear wishful thinking?"
"Not a bit! It just frustrates me when I see a lawman sitting on his pudgy hands, claiming he can't do anything because some stupid rule says otherwise."
"We call those stupid rules a set of laws," J.D. replied.
"And we've been living on the edge of them, or over on the wrong side, for a good while now, if you recall."
"Give me some warning if you're planning to turn outlaw, will you?" he requested. "Let me get out of your way while there's a chance."
"You wouldn't back me up?" she almost purred.
"Depends on what you pulled, I guess," he said. "I didn't marry you with the idea we'd wind up stretching rope."
"They don't hang people for preventing murders, do they?"
"Not as far as I know," he agreed. "But I've seen people shot for getting in a lawman's way, much less the cavalry's. Those boys in blue aren't too particular."
"They wouldn't hurt a lady, would they?"
"Tell that to the women at Sand Creek and Washita."
"But they were—"
"Indians?"
"I was about to say hostiles."
"Both villages were flying white flags of surrender when the troops rode through and cut them down. Can we forget this, please, and see the sights, whatever those might be, like we just told the man?"
* * *
Sundown caught Childs Hoskins mucking out his barn. His back ached, the muscles in his shoulders burned, and he was working on a neck cramp. Situation normal for a farmer who, against all common wisdom, chose a desert as the place to put down roots and rear a family.
He could have tried his luck around the place that they were lately calling Flagstaff, with its higher elevation, more rain, and the kind of soil that wouldn't break a hoe. But land was literally dirt cheap where Inferno sprouted out of nothing, going nowhere fast. For what he had to spend, Hoskins had grabbed a hundred acres for the price of fifty elsewhere in the territory, and if he could ever raise a decent crop to sell, or get his horses breeding properly, he'd have a chance to double, maybe triple that before he had to worry about neighbors moving in.
His wife, sweet Rosalind, had helped him all the way, working the same long hours Childs did—maybe more, considering she also did the lion's share of raising little Orville and Daphne, plus cooking meals and cleaning up around the house. Childs wasn't sure how she endured it, except for love. And wasn't that some kind of miracle, itself?
Now it was quitting time, and he'd be back to mucking out the barn tomorrow, the day after that, and on into eternity, unless he made enough someday to have a couple extra hands around the place. God only knew if that would ever happen, but the land would never break him down and make him quit. Not even if it killed him first.
Emerging from the barn, shovel in hand, Childs Hoskins thought he was alone until a movement at the corner of his left eye made him stop and turn. He froze then, staring at the painted savage who stood watching him from less than twenty feet away, some kind of decorated hatchet dangling from his hand.
Hoskins was wondering what he should say, if anything at all would fit, when he was startled for the second time within as many seconds. From the house, its door standing ajar, there came a scream he recognized as Rosalind's, and crying from their children. Orville shouted, "Daddy!" cut off midway through the word.
Hoskins made his decision then. He rushed the only warrior he could see, raising his shovel with intent to swing it like an axe and cut the bastard down, before he ran to help his family.
Bad luck for him. The decorated hatchet was already airborne, flying toward him, twirling handle over head. Hoskins had no chance to change course before it struck him in the chest and knocked the wind out of his lungs, then he was plummeting facedown, his impact with the hard earth driving tempered steel through bone and muscle, deep into his heart.
Chapter 6
As indicated by their first ride-through, there wasn't much to see along Inferno's single business street. The shops were clean enough, for all their faded paint and signs, but their predictable offerings held no allure for J.D. or Kate. Once you had seen prospectors' tools, firearms and farming gear, dry goods and notions, plus the normal services—a barber's shop with baths for men only, a lawyer's office, and the like—you'd literally seen it all.
They'd finished off their first full day in town with supper back at Dan's, another steak for Kate, chicken and dumplings for J.D., with sweetened cornbread on the side. From there, they'd ambled back to the hotel and turned in for the night, with energy enough for sex—why not?—despite Kate's feeling of uneasiness in town and J.D.'s hope that they could put the place behind them in the morning, both physically and mentally.
Arising near the crack of dawn, they packed what little they had brought to the hotel and washed up for their final breakfast, going for the works at the Café, to tide them over through a long day on the eastbound trail. Emerging on the street, however, they were halted by a troop of cavalry passing through town from Fort Royster and out the other way, a young lieutenant leading half a dozen men. The lieutenant wore a saber and a pistol in the army's standard backwards holster, while his men were armed with Sharps carbines in saddle scabbards.
"Early for regu
lar maneuvers, don't you think, J.D.?" Kate asked.
"I never joined, but yeah, I'd say so. During peacetime, anyway."
"You think the colonel finally decided we were serious?"
J.D. considered that, frowning before he answered her. "I doubt it, from the way he brushed us off. Unless..."
"Unless some evidence of Indians turned up at the McKibbon spread," Kate finished J.D.'s thought, the way she often did.
"That's possible," he granted. "But the word of that attack was all over Inferno yesterday. If they're just getting to it now, I'd say the troop's reaction time is mighty slow."
"And no sign of the colonel leading them."
"I got the sense that Colonel Hungate doesn't do a lot of work himself."
"Well, either way," Kate said, "I'd like to know what's going on."
"Me too, Love. But we made a deal, if you recall."
She sighed. "Leaving this morning, right. And I'm not backing out of it. But..."
"Uh-oh."
"What?"
He smiled. "I love your butt. Don't get me wrong. But when you drop one into conversation, I get nervous."
"I thought you liked surprises."
"That depends on the surprise."
"Relax, J.D. We'll have a nice, big breakfast and—"
"And what?" he asked, when Kate stopped short, with her remark unfinished.
"Hang on for a second, Babe. I just spied someone who can likely fill us in on why the army's on the prowl."
J.D. followed her eyes across the street and spotted Marshal Olin Dill outside his office, staring after the small troop of cavalry. He'd just begun to say, "Now, Kate," but let it drop and hurried after her as her long strides took Kate across Inferno's thoroughfare.
* * *
"You two again," Dill said, as they approached.
"Happy to see us?" Kate inquired.
"With all respect, I'd like to see the back of you. Still heading Tucson way this morning, are you?"
"Breakfast first," J.D. replied. "You don't object to us throwing your town a little business do you, Marshal?"
"Not for me to say who comes and goes, as long as there's no trouble."
"Not within your jurisdiction, anyway," said Kate.
"Lady—"
J.D. cut in, saying, "We wondered whether you could tell us what the army's doing out this early."
"Not the army, Mister. Just a squad. They ride through town from time to time."
"This early? I'd have thought they'd just be sitting down to morning mess."
"None of my business when or what they eat," Dill groused.
"But you can tell us why they're missing out on eggs and grits this morning, right?" Kate asked.
Dill eyed them both, scowling, then seemed to make his mind up. "Sure, why not? It's kidnapping."
Kate blinked at him, surprised. "Not murder?"
"Oh, sure. Murder, too. Somebody took an axe, looks like, to poor Childs Hoskins overnight. His hired boy from another homestead found 'im early, when he came in for his chores. Turns out Childs may have got the best of it."
"How's that?" J.D. prodded.
"Whoever kilt him run off with his missus, son and daughter. Used the father's blood to paint some kinda heathen lingo on the barn before they left."
"The evidence that Colonel Hungate needed," Kate surmised.
"Sounds like it," J.D. said.
"Whatever," Dill replied, dismissively. "It's in the army's hands now, and they'll handle it however they see fit."
"How many farms scattered around Inferno, Marshal?" J.D. asked.
"Never counted 'em," Dill said. "But if I had to guess, I'd say sixteen to eighteen, thereabouts."
"And three already raided in the past two days," Kate said. "Marshal, shouldn't you warn the other families, trying getting them in town, where they'll be safe?"
"We had this conversation once, ma'am. I don't chew my cabbage twice."
"Delightful image there, but—"
"Number one, it ain't my job and ain't my right to tell them where they oughta go. And number two, counting the kids, that must be forty people, give or take, along with any stock they cared to bring along. Inferno's got no place for an invasion that size. If the army's worried, they can move 'em to Fort Royster till the danger's past."
"And when will that be?" she demanded.
Dill shrugged and told her, "Couldn't say. I ain't a general, much less an Injun fighter. Not since last time the Apaches took to killin', anyway."
"You were involved in that?" asked J.D., skeptically.
"We posted guards around the town, is all. They never took a run at us."
"And this time?" Kate asked.
"Well, I ain't a fortune-teller, either. If the army says take special care, we'll do it. Otherwise..."
"Let's go, J.D.," she said, "before I lose my appetite."
Behind them, as they moved toward the Café, the lawman called out to them, "Tucson should be safe enough. So far, nothin's been happening out east of here."
* * *
"Goddamn that lazy—"
"Better just to let it go," J.D. observed.
"You're right, I know. But still..."
"He's one of those who won't do anything until a problem grabs him by the throat."
"By that time, it's too late, J.D."
"Another reason to get out of here, as soon as possible."
They'd reached the Café's door and passed inside. The place had more diners than yesterday, most of the tables filled, but the same waitress walked them to the window table J.D. had begun to view as theirs.
Don't do that, he cautioned himself. We're not putting down roots in this dump of a desert town.
He knew Kate wasn't planning that, herself, but she had something cooking in her mind that he would have to ferret out before they got away. They ordered scrambled eggs, bacon, flapjacks and fried potatoes, with a hot black coffee starter. J.D. told her, "What we need to do is stick with what we both decided yesterday. Ride on to Tucson, check the news when we arrive, and if it sounds like someone should be doing more, put in our own two cents, for whatever they're worth."
"It's not enough," Kate said.
"Why not?"
"You heard the marshal," she replied. "A woman and her children kidnapped. You know what that means, J.D."
He shook his head, responded, "No. In this case, Kate, I actually don't. Do you?"
That stymied her, but only for a second, then she had to wait another moment while the coffee came. "All right," she said. "I don't know all the details, but I know what kind of hell women and children suffer when they're carried off by savages. Dying's the easy part for most of them, if they're allowed to."
J.D. knew all the same stories she did. Sipping his coffee first, he asked her, "What are we supposed to do? The army's on it, Kate. We may not think much of their colonel, but at least he has authority to act, and he can call on Washington for more help if he thinks it's necessary. How do we match that, and not wind up in his stockade, or worse?"
"The last part calls for being careful," she replied. "As for the first, I'd need to have a look around the Hoskins place, try getting a feel for the wife and her kids, same way for anybody who was on the run."
"Except, in this case, they're not running, Kate. They're being carried off to God knows where."
"A look around is still the first step," she advised.
J.D. saw their meals coming and replied, "No, ma'am. The first step, for me, anyway, is food."
* * *
Rosalind Hoskins wondered if she'd lost her mind. Over the past few hours she had felt her tether to reality straining, as if about to break, and now she feared that it had snapped.
Her husband, Childs, was dead. Of that she had no doubt. She'd seen him lying in the dooryard when the savages removed her and her children from their home, had seen one of the painted warriors roll him over roughly, wrenching at the hatchet buried in his bloody chest until it came free with an ugly sucking soun
d.
No man could have survived that wound.
Rosalind knew she had been taken captive, that her son and daughter joined her in the hands of mortal enemies, as prisoners, but beyond that things had gotten...hazy. She remembered traveling on horseback, didn't she? And being dragged into a cave that stank of smoke, burnt meat, and other smells she didn't want to think about. The walls were daubed with crude paintings of men, wild animals, and other figures that she could not recognize, like denizens of some demented nightmare. Seeing them was likely when her mind began to fail.
But she must still maintain control, Rosalind knew. Her children counted on her, even though she and her husband both had failed to keep them safe at home. One huddled now beneath each of her arms, Orville on the right, and Daphne to her left. She held them tightly, even though her head was reeling from the smoke and stench inside the cave, the children weeping softly and continuously.
Rosalind dared not ask what the savages required of her. Before she'd started west with Childs, she was aware of Indian atrocities against white settlers. That they had not raped her yet seemed like a miracle, but Rosalind had no doubt they would get around to it. As for the children, if they were not butchered outright, would they be preserved alive and raised as desert-dwelling murderers? Would Daphne be compelled to breed another generation of Apaches, until she was too worn out to be of any further use?
"Mama, don't cry!" Daphne pleaded with her, not quite whispering. Her words sank in and Rosalind straightened her posture, letting those who'd snatched them see her hatred through her eyes.
"What do you want from us?" she asked all of the savages, at once.
"Yeah, what?" Orville chimed in, his voice on the shrill side.
It took another moment, but the tallest of the dozen warriors ranged in front of her turned back to face her, finally, regarding Rosalind and her two children with a hunter's gaze. He was the cat; they were the captive mice.
When he began to speak in English, Rosalind was shocked. "We want your souls," he said. "You will be sacrificed to Tobadzistsini. Whether or not He finally accepts such puny specimens, your execution will achieve our goal."
"What's that?" Rosalind asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
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