Fort Larned (4 page)

   "With three of you trying, I don't see it as too big a problem," Collier said as he backed away from them. His foot struck something on the ground. The distinctive clink of the chain link in the center against the wood told him that someone had dropped a single tree from a team harness. He picked up the single tree and held it in both hands.

   Holling stopped. He didn't like the idea of the single tree in Collier's hands. He was hoping for a knife fight, not a free-for-all brawl that was more Collier's style of fighting. He was planning on cutting up Collier a little but the single tree insured that everyone would probably get hurt.

   "If you're going to whittle, get to it,." Collier said.

   Holling hesitated as he tried to figure a way past the single tree. Crandall rushed at Collier from the side and met a single tree across his forehead. Holling plunged the knife at Collier's back. Collier caught Holling's arm on the back swing and the knife went flying. Bates rushed before Collier could recover and they went to the ground with Bates on top. Bates drew back his fist and Collier landed blow to his ribs with the single tree. He rolled off Collier gasping for breath. Collier came to his feet and gave him a blow to the back of the neck. Bates collasped to the ground unconscious.

   Holling felt for his knife in the darkness. "Damn you! You have the devil's own luck!"

    Collier threw down the single tree, took hold of Holling's shirt and gave him a crashing blow to the face with his fist. Blood flew from Holling's mouth and nose as he fell back into the ground. As he started back to his feet, Collier stuck again splitting a cut above Holling's left eye. Holling's face was covered with blood as he lay in the dirt.

   John Neill and the Bakers rushed in. Nell gasped as she recognized Collier standing over the three unconscious soldiers. By the time Roberts arrived, Holling was climbing to his feet.

   "What the hell! Corporal Holling, do you have an explanation?" Roberts shouted.

   "We....We stumbled in the dark coming up from the river, Sergeant."

    "Good God! Holling! How stupid do you think I am? Any fool could come up with a better story than that!"

   Holling sat in the dirt, a thoroughly defeated man.

   Roberts turned to Collier.

   "You need to do something about those clumsy troopers of yours, Sergeant," Collier smiled.

    "That cuts it!" Roberts roared. " Before this is over, I'll see all four of you in the guard house!"

   "I saw Collier standing over these men when we arrived. I believe that he assaulted these three in the dark," Baker said.

   "You saying you saw the fight?" Roberts snapped.

   "Well.....no.....I was saying....."

   "I'll tell you what! You take care of your business, Baker, and I'll take care of army business!

   What do ya think?"

   Baker stepped away as soldiers arrived and gathered what was left of Bates and Crandall.

   "Consider yourself under arrest," Roberts said to Holling. "And you, Collier.....come with me!"

   Collier and Roberts walked back to camp, leaving Neill and the Bakers alone.

   Baker turned to Neill. "Well, isn't this a damned fine mess? We get an escort to keep the Injuns from killing us and watch them try to kill each other."

   Neill looked into the darkness and shook his head. "We have to remember the kind of men that we are dealing with. These are fighting men with violent ways."

   Baker turned toward his wagon. "Make excuses for them, Neill. I intend to complain to their superiors once we get to Fort Dodge."

   Nell Baker remained silent as she listened. She found herself dwelling on what a mysterious man Collier was. How could a man who seemed so awkward and boyish at the river, be so violent? He had shown her nothing but kindness, and yet, she knew that he had purposely baited her husband in camp. In many ways, she had never been attracted to anyone as she was to Collier, yet he was a dangerous man. Was he any different than her husband?

   "Are you coming?" Baker's voice was harsh.

   "What? Oh, yes, I'm coming."

   "What's your problem?"

    "Nothing." As she made her way back to camp, she saw Collier by the campfire across from her wagon. He was just sitting, staring at the fire. It seemed odd how in control he seemed.

   Their eyes met. Collier smiled with an innocent expression that unnerved her. She couldn't imagine what he was smiling about. He had just finished almost killing three men. She realized that she was smiling back. She wondered if she shouldn't be outraged by his actions. Nathan's cruelty so unacceptable and yet she was attracted to a man like Collier. She turned away and went to her wagon.

   Baker came to her after a while and crawled into bed. She turned away and stared into the blackness that was her wagon, her thoughts, and her life. She laid awake for several hours thinking of Collier, her marriage, her circumstances and the child that she so desperately wanted but would not allow Nathan Baker to father.

Camp was quiet that morning. Crandall and Bates had come to after the fight and neither seemed seriously hurt. Crandall was bleeding from his ears and complaining of a bad headache but seemed to be improving. Roberts had been very short with Collier when he had left to check the trail again to Sand Point. Roberts felt that Sand Point was a critical point and if the Indians were going to give them any trouble, it would be in that area. As far as the fight was concerned, Roberts felt that he knew the men that were involved. If Holling had enough then it was over. If not, he would try to kill Collier. Roberts watched Holling. There were no oaths or threats and he guessed that Holling had been through enough. As for Collier, he probably didn't start the fight or even ask for it. Lane did not carry grudges and didn't ride the men. The Indians were a much more serious threat at the moment. As he thought, Roberts found himself constantly watching the horizon for sign.

   Nell looked for Collier when she arose but realized that he had left before sunrise. She thought of him several times as she performed her morning's chores. It would be another grueling day with the wagon and her husband was more sullen than usual. She consigned herself to the fact that he would be more difficult to live with for a while. Collier had humiliated him and he would be out to even the score. If he couldn't get even with Collier than anyone else that was available would do. She figured that she was in for a rough couple of days.

   The caravan moved out at daybreak and was well on its way to Sand Point by mid-morning. Roberts was in the habit of riding in the seat beside the driver of the lead wagon but occasionally he would step down to the ground and work his way up and down the string of wagons to examine the condition of men and machinery.

   After the two troop wagons was John Neill's wagon with Charley Pitts just behind him. Normally the Baker's wagon came third and the rest followed. Unless some landmark or emergency dictated otherwise, the caravan would pause at 10 AM to rest and water the stock. When the column halted, Roberts walked with John Neill back along the wagons looking for any equipment or livestock problems. As the two passed the Pitts wagon, Charley stepped out from watering his mules.

   "What do ya think?" Pitts said in a low voice.

   "Think about what?" Neill replied.

   "About those Injun bucks back there?"

   Chunk Roberts took a step toward Pitts. "What Injuns? Where?"

   "Them two Injuns about two miles back on the ridge south of the river. You mean to tell men you didn't see them?"

   Roberts stepped on past Pitts and his team and scanned the horizon south of the river. "No, I didn't see them. Are you sure?"

   "Hell, yes, I'm sure! I ought to know a damned Injun when I see one even if you soldier boys don't!"

   "A couple of Indians shouldn't be that alarming, should it?" John Neill asked.

   Roberts scanned the hills. "Normally, no. But we're in a different situation. Pitts, are you sure you saw Injuns?"

   "Damn it! There were two bucks belly down on that rocky rise. I figured someone else had seen them or I would have said something earlier."

   Roberts ordered his men out of their wagons and into two columns marching on either side of the line.

   John Neill drew Roberts aside as he directed the columns. "Sometimes Charley exaggerates a little. Maybe he was mistaken?"

   "I really can't take that chance and neither can you. Collier felt that Injuns were about yesterday."

   Neill scanned the hills to the south. "Maybe we should turn back."

   "It's six of one and a half-dozen of the other. We're as close to Fort Dodge as Fort Larned. We'd gain nothing from turning back. We'll go on and see what Collier reports tonight. In the meantime, tell your people to keep sharp and watch close."

   The column hadn't gone two miles when Cheyenne appeared on the sand hills south to the Arkansas. Their war paint was clearly visible to the whites. Roberts made his way to Neill's wagon.

   Neill's face was ashen.

   "I think that we better fort up against the river," Roberts said.

   "Whatever you say," Neill said. "God! It looks like too many for us to handle."

   Nathan Baker broke his wagon out of formation and brought it up along the side of Neill's.

   "I don't see why we don't make a run for it!"

   Roberts could see in Neill's face a relief that comes from someone saying what he was thinking.

   Neill looked down to Roberts. "Why don't we run for it?"

   "Running is the worst thing that you could do. These teams can't outrun Cheyenne on horseback. We've got a lot of fire power. Neill, I want you to swing up against the river bank. We'll fort up and make a stand."

   Baker's face became red, his voice hysterical. "Make a stand! By God! Look at them! It's suicide!"

    "Listen you fool," Roberts snapped. "It's suicide to run. You wouldn't make it a half a mile before they cut you down."

   Neill reached for Baker's arm. "Please, Nathan, do what the sergeant says."

   He jerked his arm away from her. Spit flew from his mouth as he spoke. "You shut the hell up, woman!"

   Baker cracked the team forward. The mules jumped and broke into a run. Nell reached out to stop him but he backhanded her across the neck. She rolled out of the wagon seat into the box behind.

   Roberts was taken off-guard. The wagon lunged forward out of his reach. He grabbed the bridle of Neill's wheel horse. "Neill! Neill! Don't do this! You'll spread out the column and they'll kill us all!"

   Neill's mouth hung open as he watched Baker's wagon bolt away and felt his own team begin to follow. He was barely aware of Roberts' words. He pulled back on the reins and held his team in place.

   Several Cheyenne let out war cries as they broke from the hill toward Baker's wagon. Neill looked down for an order from Roberts. Roberts leaned against the wheel horse with an arrow lodged deeply in the back of his right shoulder. Neill looked north. Cheyenne warriors were boiling down on the column from behind a low rise. Corporal Bates ran up to Neill's wagon. "Damn it! Do as he says or we're all lost!"

   Neill swung his team toward the river. Shooting and shouting was all about him. Soldiers were forming a skirmish line. Neill made the river and jumped from the wagon to wave the rest toward his position. He saw Roberts being helped toward him as the wagons began to close up. He turned to see the Baker wagon already a hundred yards away in full flight. He turned again to urge the wagons on when a Cheyenne bullet struck him in the back of the head. His arm dropped. He fell face down in the grass, dead the instant the bullet struck.

   Elk Heart could not believe how the Great Spirit had favored him. He had taken the caravan completely by surprise. His warriors had hit the troops and wagons so quickly that they were strung out and unable to get organized. At close range, he had the foot soldiers beaten by shear weight of numbers. He watched as the soldiers frantically tried to reload their muzzleloaders. The teams and wagons went out of control as panic stricken teamsters jumped from them. The whites were running for cover or dying with their wagons. He watched as soldiers formed into small clusters to protect themselves from the onslaught of his men and ponies. He watched the hated enemy die before him. Many coup would be taken that day. The hated whites were paying for years of oppression. Vengeance was, at last, in Elk Heart's hands. He thought of his own son and woman dead at the hands of the whites. He did not show emotion. He only watched his warriors do to the whites what had been done to his people so many times before. The slaughter was total. No white was left alive. When the vengeance was complete, he gave the signal. This fight was not over. It had only begun.

Lane Collier left the still sleeping camp long before sunrise. He told himself that he had to get her off his mind. Confirming his suspicions about the presence of hostiles would demand all of his attention. As he followed the Arkansas to the southwest, he rode the crests and rises to the north. As the day had gone before, Collier could find no hard evidence of the Indians. By the time that he reached Sand Point, he decided to cross the river and examine the sign left the day before. When he found signs, he warily followed. In spite of the tall grass, the trail of the two braves was easy to follow.

   The sand hills were death traps. Thousands of low hills ran like ocean waves to the south. Ambush was likely and most whites stayed out of them. He could see for miles from the top of one but no one could tell what was behind any of them.