Shalako (1962) (9 page)

Buffalo Harris came in while von Hallstatt and Count Henri were still there. "Smoke over the Animas," Buffalo said. "Wished I knew what they meant. Shalako now, he could read them. He--

Buffalo broke off sharply, the idea startling him with its possibilities. "No ... couldn't be that."

"What?"

"By this time he's clean t'other side of the Stein's Peak range, but I was just thinkin', Shalako knowin' the smokes, and all ... if he sent up a smoke ... no, it ain't reasonable.

Only he savvies that smoke talk as well as any Indian."

"You mean he might send up a signal that would draw them off? But they would come back."

Bosky Fulton descended the ladder. "How's for some coffee?" He grinned insolently at Irina, then glanced at von Hallstatt as if to challenge a reprimand.

"You've left your post." Von Hallstatt eyed him coldly. "Get back up there until you're relieved."

"You want somebody up there," Fulton replied, "you go yourself."

Never had Irina seen such a shocked expression on any man's face as crossed the baron's at that moment. He probably never had had an order refused before.

An instant only ... then his face was swept by cold fury. His rifle stood near the door. He started for it. Bosky Fulton's gun slid into his hand, and the cocking of the gun was loud in the sudden silence.

"You pick that up," Fulton drawled, "an' you better walk right outside with it. You turn on me I'll kill you." Von Hallstatt stopped. Always before the might of the Prussian Army had stood behind him. Now there was only himself. Never had he been threatened with a pistol, and terrible fury choked him. Yet at the same instant there swept through him the icy realization that he could die. That the man behind him would surely kill.

The baron had been given a choice. Could he lift the rifle, turn and cock and fire before the man behind him could fire?

"Put up your gun, Fulton!" The voice rang with the harshness of command. "Put up your gun and get back to your post."

Of them all, von Hallstatt was the most surprised, for Hans Kreuger had lifted himself to one elbow and in his hands he held the twin barrels of a shotgun, the muzzles pointed at Fulton.

The distance was scarcely twenty feet, the shotgun a short-barreled express gun.

Kreuger's face was pale and perspiring, but there was no doubt that he meant what he said.

"I have enough buckshot to cut you in two, Fulton," Kreuger said, "and nothing to lose."

The gunman's eyes seemed to change color. Or was it the light in the room? Irina, who was watching him, saw an ugly hatred come into those yellow eyes, but he eased the hammer back in place with elaborate care, and then he turned and started for the ladder. There he hesitated, stealing a glance over his shoulder, but the twin muzzles followed him relentlessly.

When Fulton had disappeared up the ladder, Kreuger lay back on his pallet, gasping hoarsely, his brow beaded with sweat.

Von Hallstatt remained standing by the door, staring out across the desert, his back to the room. The sun was going down. The day would soon be gone.

He stared blindly, conscious of it all but seeing nothing. He had been afraid. He, Frederick von Hallstatt, had been afraid.

He had known that surely as he stood there that unwashed hireling would kill him.

No command of his mattered here, no authority of position or personality stood between him and these men.

He hated them, he hated the wild, irresponsible freedom and independence there was in them all. He was used to subservience, to acceptance of his authority, his position.

That independence was in Shalako, Harris, Fulton ... all of them.

Buffalo Harris's frank, matter-of-fact, man-to-man talk had always offended him, yet it had taken a cocked gun in the hand of Bosky Fulton to make him aware of how little he mattered here. He, Frederick von Hallstatt, baron and general, could be shot down and killed as simply as any peasant.

Turning slowly, he threw a glance at his wounded aide. "Thank you, Hans," he said.

Taking up his rifle he went outside and returned to his position, and not until he was there, watching the desert once more, did he realize that for the first time he had called Kreuger by his given name.

And well he might, for Hans Kreuger had saved him from more than he knew. Possibly he had saved him from death, possibly from an exhibition of cowardice.

Had Kreuger not intervened, what would he have done? Would he have attempted to turn?

Or would he meekly have submitted?

Blindly, Frederick von Hallstatt stared out across the desert. For the first time in his entire life he did not know. For the first time, he was unsure.

Chapter
Three.

When von Hallstatt had gone, nobody spoke for several minutes, then Buffalo Harris finished his coffee, and went to the door. He hesitated there, turned as if to speak, then ducked outside and was gone.

Count Henri's handsome features were expression less. He glanced at her. "I am sorry you are here, Irina." Then he went outside also.

Her decision, when it was made, was deliberate. And in the moment of deciding she knew it was a decision that should have been made before this. Gathering her skirts, she started for the door.

"Irina!" Laura caught at her arm. "Stay away from the door! What can you be thinking of?"

"I am going to the wagon," she said calmly, "for some food and ammunition."

"You will be killed!"

"I do not think so," she replied calmly, "I think they will want the women alive."

Laura's eyes were without expression. "Yes, yes, of course. But be careful."

It was a silly thing to say at such a time, but what could be said? She took a deep breath and, stepping out side, she walked coolly and deliberately to the nearest wagon.

Climbing into the wagon, she gathered up a parcel of food, a medicine kit with additional medicines, and a box of ammunition. Putting them all in a burlap sack, she swung it over her shoulder and walked back to the stable.

Returning, she climbed into the wagon again. The heat was stifling under the canvas wagon top and the interior smelled of the sun-hot canvas, a smell like no other, yet not unpleasant.

From a box of her own things she took a .44-caliber derringer with two barrels, one over the other. Checking to be sure it was loaded, she tucked it into her clothing.

Loading another box of ammunition and more food into her sack, she returned again to the stable.

She had concealed the sack when Bosky Fulton suddenly came down the ladder and, without glancing at her, went outside and worked his way around to the house.

She recalled hearing a low mutter of conversation from the loft, and remembered that one of the other teamsters was up there.

Fulton remained in the house but, after a few minutes, Rio Hockett came to the door and motioned to one of the other men. The man crawled, then suddenly darted for the door and ducked inside, a bullet tapping the doorjamb with a disgusted finger.

Aided by Laura, Irina returned to the wagons and re moved more of the food and ammunition.

No shot was fired at them.

Buffalo returned to the stable. "They're pullin' out," he said. "Those smokes are drawin' them off. I'd say we'd better light out of here."

"Do you suppose it is a trick? Something to draw us out of this position?"

"Don't think so. Their dust shows up too far off for that. They've sure enough taken out."

Roy Harding strolled up to the door. "What do you think, Buff? Could we make Fort Cummings? My guess would be the troops are out by this time."

The rest of their party slowly congregated. "Please," Edna Dagget said, "let its go now."

Bosky Fulton spoke from the stable door. "Too late for you folks. You're goin' to stay here. We're takin' out." Their heads turned as one, and Bosky Fulton stood in the stable door behind them, and beside him were four men with rifles, hip high, ready to fire.

"We decided we don't like it here no more," Fulton said. "Rio, you shuck their guns and shake them down for money or whatever."

"If you wish to leave," Count Henri said coolly, "you must realize you are not alone.

We were discussing such a move when you came in. I suggest you harness the teams and be ready to move out."

"We go," Fulton repeated, "you stay."

Von Hallstatt clutched his rifle by the upper barrel, but he stood among the women and there was no chance of bringing it into use without endangering them all. And he had seen how quickly Fulton could go into action.

"If you appear with our belongings," Dagget warned, "questions will be asked. It must be obvious to you that many of our weapons and other belongings will be recognized or easily identified."

Fulton grinned at Dagget. "Not in Mexico. Not in the border towns. And when the Apaches get through with you folks nobody will be asking any questions at all."

He glanced over at Harding. "You're in the wrong crowd, Roy. You belong with us."

"I like it where I am," Harding replied bluntly. "I never did cotton to thieves.

Nor do I want to get my neck stretched."

Fulton shrugged. "Suit yourself. Soon as they see what those smokes meant the Apaches will be back. They'll take care of whatever we leave."

When they had been disarmed, their guns were emptied and handed back. "Look funny if you had no guns. It would make the Apaches talk and we might have to answer to the Army if we were caught. So you just keep those fancy guns."

Irina thought of her derringer. If she could get it out... but that would only lead to shooting and her friends would be wounded or killed.

Hockett took their rings from their fingers and what valuables they had on their persons. Cold with anger, Irina watched, knowing the men were as helpless to act as she herself.

The heaviest of the riding stock were hitched to the wagon into which they loaded all that remained of food, ammunition, and valuables that could be disposed of below the border. The horses were not broken to drive, but to men accustomed to the handling of bronchos it made no difference. Her own horses were led out and for a moment she felt a savage pleasure. Neither of her horses had ever been ridden by a man, and while these men were horse men, nonetheless she knew the mares would be watching for an opportunity to throw their riders and escape.

"Leave the roan," Fulton said, "he's all stove up." "They'll take that horse and hunt for help," Hockett objected.

"Rio, you know that horse is in bad shape. Where would they go for help? The nearest would be seventy or eighty rough miles, maybe twice that far, and Apaches all over the country."

Suddenly Fulton's eyes switched to Irina. "You," he said, "you and that Davis gal.

You're a-coming with us." "I think not."

There was an odd, snakelike quality in the way in which Fulton turned his head.

Count Henri had spoken, and now he met Fulton's gaze calmly. Only a fool could look at the Frenchman and doubt that he would fight.

Roy Harding took a step wide of the group, but in a position that made his intentions obvious. Von Hallstatt gathered himself, giving all his attention to Fulton.

"Ride out with what you have," Henri said coolly, "otherwise you must kill us all, and you'll not do it without our leaving a mark on you.

"I suspect this Colonel Forsyth of whom we have heard will be curious as to why we were all shot at close range and why a wagon is gone. Also," he added, "the Apaches may not be so far away as to wonder why there is shooting when they are not attacking.

They might be curious enough to return to find out."

"Forget 'em, Bosky," Hockett said. "We'll find plenty of women in Mexico."

Fulton turned abruptly. "All right, let's go!"

They left in a swirl of dust, and when they were gone, only Roy Harding, Buffalo Harris, and Mako, the cook they had brought from Europe, remained with them.

Irina uncovered the ammunition hidden under a pile of blankets in a corner, and ammunition was passed out among them. The sun was setting.

"We cannot defend this place," von Hallstatt said. "We are too few."

"We'd do better to run for the hills," Harding suggested. "We might find a better place to hole up."

"We'll need water," Buffalo said doubtfully.

Shalako rode up out of the wash and walked the Arab stallion into the circle. "Get whatever grub you've got, blankets and whatever you can carry. If you want to live you've got to get out of here."

"There's water here!" Dagget protested. "And that stable is built like a fort!"

Shalako wasted no words. "How will you get water with Indians shooting into the door?"

"A trip across the desert will kill my wife!" Daggett "What will happen if she stays here?"

Irina wasted no time listening. Mustering the help of Julia and Laura, they began getting what blankets and food there was. Von Hallstatt and Henri made a stretcher of two long coats by slipping a pole through the arms of the two coats on one side, then another pole on the other. Then they buttoned the coats.