Fort Larned (9 page)

   She placed her hand on his shoulder as she took the coffee and kissed him. He wanted to take her in his arms but it was not the time.

   She sat next to him and smiled. "You're blushing."

   Collier grinned. "I guess I've not used to such things."

   "Better get used to them, Mr. Collier. I've got a lot of catching up to do. You're the man I intend to do the catching up with."

   "Don't hurt yourself."

   Her eyes gleamed. "Nor you either."

   They were in the middle of their breakfast when Collier heard horses. He grabbed the LeMat and ran for the door.

   "What is it?" she asked.

   "Riders, and they're close," he said as he moved her away from the doorway. "Get Annie and your pistol. Go to the back, away from the door."

   "Are they Indians?"

   "I don't know."

   "Surely they wouldn't come back."

   "I wouldn't think so . . . but . . . you can never be sure."

   As the sounds grew louder, he relaxed. "It's fine. Hear the cups and sabers? By God! It's cavalry!" He waved as Negro cavalry troopers rode into the farm yard.

   Nell kissed Annie and held her high to see the soldiers.

   A thin faced, gray haired white officer with a chin beard and a long mustache brought his horse up to Collier.

"By God, Bohanin!" Collier said. "You're a sight for sore eyes!"

   Bohanin swung easily from his mount. He was more than six feet tall and rail thin. "What the hell are you doing here?"

   "Running, L.J.! Running for my life!" Collier said as they shook hands.

   "Where's the Fox family?" Bohanin asked looking toward the dugout. "They need to pack."

   "They're dead. Massacred by the Cheyenne."

   "I'm sorry to hear that. They were fine folks." He turned toward his men. "Sergeant Crossly! Get those horses fed and watered. Form a skirmish line above the dugout."

   Bohanin cut his eyes to the woman. His face was dark and dirty. The blue of his eyes was a startling contrast. "Who's this woman?" he asked without taking his eyes off her.

   "Nell Baker. She and I are the only survivors of a raid at Sand Point."

   "The escort?"

   "All dead. Wiped out by Cheyenne."

   Bohanin nodded to Nell and tipped his hat as he walked briskly past her. "Let's go into the house. Got any Coffee?"

   Collier winked at Nell as he followed Bohanin through the door.

   Bohanin threw his hat on the table. He was baldheaded, a line across his forehead separating a dark tanned face from a white forehead. He poured a cup of coffee.

   "I can get that for you, sir," Nell said as he gulped the coffee.

   "Get your things together, young lady. We'll be leaving presently." He poured another cup. "Good coffee, Collier. You make it?"

   "Yes, I did."

   Bohanin cut his eyes to Nell. "Women make it too weak. Coffee needs to be as black and as hot as possible or it don't do no good. Remember that."

   "Yes, sir, I will." She realized how she had succumbed to his manner.

   Bohanin downed his coffee, picked up his hat, and was on his way out the door. "Get your kit together, Collier. The Cheyenne are right behind us. We're going to run for it."

   Collier grabbed up his hat and rifle, and started packing his saddle bags.

   "Who is that man, Lane?" Nell asked.

   "That man is Lieutenant L.J. Bohanin. The best damned cavalry officer that ever sat a saddle."

   "He seems so old to be just a Lieutenant."

   Collier smiled. "He was Colonel Bohanin during the war. Rose up through the ranks. Told "Fighting" Joe Hooker himself, to go to hell, once." He glanced up at her and said impatiently, "Get your things, Nell. We've got to go!"

   Nell put down Annie and placed her Colt on the table."What things?"

   "Your revolver, your hat and whatever you think you'll need. I'll try to rig something up for Annie."

   Nell pulled her hat on her head. "I'll take care of the baby. You get us some horses."

   Lane nodded and ran out the door.

   She lifted Annie and held her closely. "Come on, honey. It looks like we're in for a ride."

The farmyard was a flurry of dust and noise as the troopers prepared their mounts. Collier ran to Bohanin. "We don't have any horses, L.J."

   "Figured as much," Bohanin said. "We have some empty mounts."

   Collier hadn't noticed. He had been so glad to see the soldiers that he didn't notice how rough looking and tired the soldiers really were.

   "They hit us yesterday afternoon. They got four of my troopers. Probably the same bunch that did everything else. These are murder raids. They're out to do as much damage as possible. We've been on the run from them ever since they hit us. We've been to two other places, the same as this."

   Collier turned to a trooper. "What mounts are free?"

    The trooper, a young man with a bandaged arm, handed Collier the reins of two horses he was watering. "These'll do as good as any."

   Collier led the horses to the dugout. He noticed how thin they looked and tired they acted. They were caked White sweat salt. They had ridden them hard. Collier turned to Bohanin "These horses are played out. How long do you expect them to last?"

   "Till they quit! Hell! What do you want, Collier? I thought you were afoot!"

    Collier felt stupid for having said anything.
"What the hell do you want?"
he said to himself.
"You were afoot."

   Nell walked from the dugout, the Colt revolver with a rawhide thong tied through the trigger guard hanging around her neck. One of John Fox's shirts was tied around her neck and waist, hanging loosely from her front. She handed the Annie to Collier. "Slip the baby, facing me, down the shirt."

   "This is clever, Nell. Nevertheless, don't you think I should take the child?"

   "No, the child is my responsibility. I won't have it any other way."

    Collier pointed to the Colt. "It looks like you've thought of everything." He paused "Except maybe one thing. Can you ride a horse?"

    She grabbed up the reins of her mount and swung easily into the saddle. Once mounted, she reached down and stroked Collier's beard. "I'm a Missouri farm girl with no brothers. I could probably ride before you could."

    Collier smiled. "I wouldn't doubt that one bit."

   A trooper waved his hat from the ridge above the dugout. "Here they come, Lieutenant! They're probably only a couple of miles away!"

   Bohanin sighed heavily and mounted his horse. "Come on down and mount up! We're going!"

   The troopers mounted their horses and formed a column of twos. Bohanin motioned to two older men to follow him. They rode to Nell. Bohanin waved his hat in a broad bowing gesture. "Ma'am, these men are Corporals Carver and Goldsmith. They're good men assigned to your care and protection if you'll accept."

   His gallant gesture flattered Nell. "I thank you, sir. You are most kind."

   A broad smile ranged across his face as he turned his horse to head the column. Collier reined up beside him. Bohanin looked at Collier and then back at the troop. "Mr. Collier, take troopers Quinn and MacAtee and cover our rear. We'll go as long as we can without running the horses. I imagine we'll be on the banks of the Pawnee before we find a suitable place to make a stand."

   Collier understood his order. Quinn and MacAtee were both experienced troopers. Both were veterans of the Civil War with cool heads under pressure. Nell and the two corporals rode up just behind Bohanin in the column. At Bohanin's command, the troop moved out.

   The troopers pulled their rifles and carried them at the ready. Collier was relieved that the weapons were Spencer repeating carbines and not the muzzle loaders that they had issued the infantry. Although only seventeen men were left in the troop, with such rifles, they could generate considerable firepower.

   Bohanin led his troop northeast slowly, making for the Pawnee River. Bohanin did not want to waste the horses' strength. When the time came for a running fight, the animals would need every ounce of strength. Bohanin knew that his force was too small to make a stand in the open. Only a river or a pond with a source of fresh water would be acceptable for a determined stand.

    Collier felt his mount stumble, usually a sign of an exhausted animal. All of the mounts carried their heads low and in spite of just being fed and watered, each was gaunt and drawn. The troop had been out for ten days, the limit of cavalry patrols. Each man concentrated on the condition of his mount and looking for Cheyenne.

   After an hour's riding, Bohanin ordered his troop to foot. Corporal Carver and Goldsmith spelled Nell carrying Annie. One hour mounted and two hours on foot became the pattern. It was mid-afternoon when the Cheyenne showed themselves. They split into two groups and were paralleling the troop on both sides carefully staying out of rifle range.

   Bohanin halted the column and ordered a remount. He ordered the troop to close ranks. Corporal Goldsmith helped Nell secure Annie into the shirt.

   "What do you think will happen?" she asked.

   "Don't rightly know, ma'am. They may just trail us for a while. The Lieutenant will try to get as far as possible without a fight. If them Injuns attack, we'll run for it. Try to make a stand if we can find a good place." He paused. "We'll watch out for you and the young'un. You just do what I tell you and we'll make out."

   Nell embraced the child gently and gave a half-hearted smile. "I know, corporal. It's just the not-knowing that has me concerned."

   He returned her smile. Tobacco juice stains covered his teeth. "I know, missy, I've been doing this for fifteen years and the not-knowing is the worst part."

   Nell wished Lane was with her. She turned in her saddle and looked for him. He was still at the back of the column. He was watching to the northwest as the string of Indians closed in.

   Elk Heart was riding his finest war pony, a large white stallion with a flowing mane and tail. His war bonnet of eagle feathers trailed down his back and gathered at the stallion's rump. He had put on his war paint carefully. He knew Bohanin's plan. They were playing a waiting game and were not going to be drawn into a stand on the open prairie. He had lost the element of surprise. To fight now meant many braves would die. There was much weeping of the women and children in their tipis.

   Perhaps if the whites were hurt badly enough, they would keep their word and respect the treaties. Always the whites wanted more. He had argued this in the council. He would wait no longer. Dying in battle was better than cowering in a tipi as many had done before Hancock's raids. They would reduce what advantage he had in numbers the longer that he waited. They had sung the death song. It was the critical moment. Elk Heart lowered his coup stick to his pony's ears. His war cry was strong and brave. The warriors broke into a charge.

Bohanin turned in his saddle. "Here they come!" He watched the determined, desperate faces of his men. He calmly drew his revolver and raised it into the air. "All right, then . . . Let's go!"

   The column broke for the river. The firing was sporadic, neither side wanting to waste ammunition at long range from the backs of running horses. As the distance closed the firing increased. Collier, Quinn and MacAtee held the rear as the Cheyenne closed in and the troop spread out. Collier fired his Remington and sent a Cheyenne's mount to the ground. He drew the LeMat Revolver. The Cheyenne and cavalry exchanged gun fire, but the galling effect of the troopers' Spencers forced the braves to rein up and fall away. Gathering just behind the troops, the Indians followed.

   Collier saw Quinn slumping in his saddle. He reined his horse to try to help. MacAtee closed in to help. Quinn was glassy eyed and coughed blood, a gaping hole in his chest. Quinn went limp in the saddle. "We've lost him!" Collier yelled.

   MacAtee drew his horse away. Quinn fell without resistance.

   Bohanin searched for any land mark that promised some sort of cover for a stand. His column was getting dangerously strung out. He saw a small depression to the southeast with a weak stand of willows and several cottonwood saplings. Bohanin motioned the direction and commanded the troop to make for the trees.

   The depression was a circle no more than twenty yards across with ankle-deep water in the center. The willows and cottonwoods clung to the edges of the water. Bohanin was first to the trees and dismounted to issue orders. He waved his men to follow.

   Carver and Goldsmith dismounted and pulled Nell from her mount. She lost her footing and fell into the shallow water. The men helped her to her feet and directed her to the largest of the willow trees. Annie was screaming as Nell crouched beside the tree. She felt Carver's leg pressing against her as they stood on either side against the tree, forming cover.

   Collier's horse collapsed. He slid from the saddle and was on his feet before the horse was completely down. Collier holstered the LeMat and fumbled for a rifle round in his belt as he ran to Bohanin.

   The troopers formed a defensive line along the willows and knelt to fire at Bohanin's command. They threw up a wall of smoke between the troopers and the Cheyenne. The Spencer repeaters withered the front ranks of the braves and the center broke to the sides.

   Goldsmith clutched his forehead, blood running through his fingers. An unhorsed brave ran through the water toward her. She thumbed back the hammer of her Colt. "Please, God!" she said as she pulled the trigger. As the smoke cleared, she saw the surprised expression of the brave as he staggered toward her. She fired again. The Indian dropped to his knees, drew his arm to throw the club and fell backward into the puddle. She stared at him, forgetting the battle.