Apache canyon (9 page)

In the office behind Brady, something thumped the floor. The major said, "Keep him quiet, McCracken."

"Yes, sir," McCracken murmured, and made soft sounds moving. McCracken was sitting on top of Tonio, who was tied and gagged. The major was taking no chances. Brady heard the rasp of Sutherland's breath; Sutherland's continuing anger floated across the darkness and touched them all. Then Pete Rubio's dark figure started to march a slow path back and forth in front of the guardhouse door, rifle tilted idly over his shoulder.

That was the signal. Brady knelt by the open window, lifting his rifle and resting the barrel on his hand in the opening, supported by the sash.

But whatever Rubio had heard was a long time coming. Brady was almost ready to give it up as a false alarm when his quick eyes caught sight of a furtive form slipping around the guardhouse corner. Rubio gave it every second a man could dare. Then his squat frame wheeled and the rifle came down off his shoulder, pounding into the crook of the crouching Indian's neck. The Indian dropped to earth.

At that moment the rooftop rifles opened up. Yellow muzzle flashes spurted from points all along the row of buildings. The sound of shots was fierce conversation in the night and Brady cursed: "Too soon —too soon."

He wheeled back from the window, bumping into somebody's body; he swung to the door, flung it open and ran out onto the parade ground Legs pumping, he rushed toward the guardhouse. Struck by the edge of the same fast-traveling thought. Rubio wheeled away from the guardhouse door and ran around the end of the building. Brady kept up his breakneck pace, following the scout around the building. Behind it he saw Rubio crouching down to aim his rifle, squatting on almost the exact spot of ground where Harris and Sutherland had come to blows yesterday. Brady stopped by the back corner of the building, bracing his rifle against the walls edge and took aim on a wheeling, running figure. His own shot and Rubio's sounded through the night simultaneously and the running Indian went down. Rifles were talking insistently all along the post. Dark shapes scuttled away through the desert brush. Then hoofbeats and the silhouetted shapes of men mounting up, not too far out in the desert. Brady put bullet after bullet toward the Apaches. He saw two of his targets spill out of their seats. Then the others were rushing away, half a dozen of them in full flight, quickly outdistancing the armys rifles.

Still cursing, Brady ran out into the desert with Pete Rubio at his heels. Presently he came upon the first of the downed Indians.

"Come on," he said, and Rubio came. Later, with two dead Indians laid out for burying and another two in the post hospital, Brady walked back to the major's office, scuffing up dust with his boots, feeling the night's intense anger slowly subside in him. A lamp came ahght on the major's porch. Harris blew out the match and tossed it down. McCracken came out the door behind the major and Sutherland.

As Brady came up, he heard McCracken talking: "Want me to put Tonio back in the calaboose, Major?"

"You may as well, McCracken."

The sergeant-major turned back into the office. Brady stood at the foot of the porch frowning into the dust until McCracken came back out with Tonio. The young Indian, hands tied behind him, glared angrily at Brady and at the others and allowed McCracken to prod him away. Down the row, Captain Miles Clayton, the post surgeon, came out of the hospital and walked forward.

"That one Rubio walloped will be up and around by noon," he said, and went on into the night, trudging tiredly.

Brady gi'ound his heel back and forth in the dust. "If we'd waited just a little longer," he said wearily, "we might have had them all."

The major's shoulders lifted and dropped. "We did the best we could under the circumstances. At least we've still got Tonio—and we've left Inyo with something to think about. He'll know now that he can't fool with us and get away with it."

"Maybe," Brady said, not convinced. "I want to know who the fool was who started shooting too early. The idea was to lead them into a trap and cap-tm-e most of them—not kill a couple and wound a couple more and let the rest get away."

Harris came forward to the edge of the porch and said to him, "It doesn't make much difPerence, now. Quit worrying about it."

"Hell," Brady said. "You'd be mad, too, if you risked your neck to bring the news in time, and then saw some idiot blow the whole thing up in your face." But privately he knew Harris was right. The main task was accompHshed-they had prevented Tonio's escape. It was only the anger pent up from the long day s events that made him spout off.

To cover his embarrassment, he borrowed tobacco and papers from McCracken, who had just returned from the guardhouse, and busied himself by rolling a cigarette with much more care than usual.

The major was turning to Harris. "Justin, word came in on the telegraph last night after taps. Sherman has given us the go-ahead to try and talk Inyo into returning to the reservation on the promise that they'll all be moved to the San Carlos when he comes in. I want you to take Tucker and Brady and start for Inyo's camp in the afternoon. You can take the Apache that Rubio knocked down to guide you into Inyo's camp. He'll probably agree to it, since it gives him a chance to go home, and there'll only be three of you along. Brady, between now and then I'd suggest you get some sleep."

"Good idea," Brady replied dryly. But he was considering the fact that his contract would run out in two days. He wondered if he ought to risk his neck by riding into Inyo's camp when there were just two days between him and that horse ranch in the Santa Catahnas. And there was another consideration. He looked blandly at Sutherland who was facing the major.

The major said, "Captain, after the noon meal you will take a fourteen-man patrol and swing around the loop from Spanish Flat to Rifle Gap. Under no circumstances are you proceed beyond Rifle Gap. I'll expect you back in four days. You can have Pete Rubio as scout."

Sutherland put his hot glance on Harris. It was plain enough that Sutherland envied the other officer for the job that had been assigned to Harris— a far more dangerous job than a routine scouting patrol—a mission afiFording much more opportunity for gallantry and bold decisiveness.

Sutherland saluted the major stiffly. "Yes, sir," he said, and left. Brady stood a moment longer, dropped his cigarette into the dust and walked away, pushing back his hat and wiping his dusty forehead. His tread was weary. In the east the sun was splashing its first long red rays across the clouds on the horizon.

Early afternoon. Brady was up in time to see Sutherland, all polished and pressed, mounting up and leading his patrol out with a quick downthrust of his arms.

By the time the dust had settled, Brady was crossing the post with determined stride. He felt considerably better now after a shave and a bath and a change of clothes; he didn't particularly care who saw him go up the walk to the Sutherland quarters and knock at the door. The two precious strips of lawn flanked him.

When the door opened the first thing Brady said was, "I don't guess you kissed him goodbye."

"Funny," she said tersely, and stepped back to admit him. For the benefit of any possible onlookers, he removed his hat and ducked his head and shuffled his feet before going inside and he did not shut the door behind him.

Dayhght fell in through the doorway, showing the dust in the air, dust that no one could fight. He took his usual seat and accepted a cup of coffee.

Eleanor said, "It must have been a tough night for you."

"Some," he said. He regarded her steadily. She was without a doubt the most beautiful woman he had known. He said, "I came to tell you something."

"I know. You've decided to go into the mountains with Harris."

His eyebrows rose. "So you had that figured out You know me better than I do."

"Perhaps I do," she said, smiling gently.

"Then maybe you had this figured out, too: remember the other day when I told you to think over my offer?"

"Yes."

"I suppose you've thought it over by now."

"Yes," she said again. He could tell nothing by her tone of voice.

Unaccountably his eyes dropped away from her face. He looked at her hands folded quietly in her lap. He said, "I've changed my mind, Eleanor."

If she was surprised, she gave no evidence of it. "I thought that was a woman's perogative."

"I've made it mine."

"I see," she said. "Another attack of honor, Will?"

"I guess maybe that's it."

"Well," she said. Her shoulders moved, a gesture of resignation. "That's it, then."

"I don't like your husband any better than I ever did," he said. "That's not it."

"I didn't think it was. But I've come to know you pretty well-you said so yourself. You don't have to like a man to respect his rights."

"Something like that," he agreed quietly. He was in a morose mood. He got up and took his hat and moved toward the door. When he got there he paused and stood a moment with his back to her, frowning out across the little patches of lawn. He turned and looked at her once more and said, "Just for curiosity, Eleanor-what did you decide?"

"I decided not to go with you, Will." She made it that plain. No excuses, no apologies, no hedging. He nodded with a bitter little smile. He said, "An attack of loyalty, I guess?"

"I'm not sure." She wasn't looking at him. "I suppose perhaps it was."

She did not look at him. He put on his hat and turned. Her voice followed him softly: "Goodbye, Will."

He nodded again, pulled the door shut and walked slowly out into the dust.

Justin Harris climbed the dried boards of the steps, crossed the porch and entered the sutler's store. Sadie Rand was waiting on a trooper. Harris put his back to the wall beside the door and waited there for her. She glanced at him; he saw a break in her expression. Then she returned her attention to the trooper. Her hands, tying up the trooper's parcel, were long-fingered and supple. Her arm5 were round and firm. She wore a simple gingham dress; she nodded politely to the trooper, who smiled at her and went out past Harris with a courteous " 'Afternoon, Captain."

Harris nodded, returned the trooper s salute, and moved forward to the counter. Smells of cloth and fresh wood and paint permeated the place.

He said, "I acted like a damn fool the other day."

Her smile was quick and open. "You don't have to apologize."

"That's a fool thing for you to say," he said, matching her smile.

"Do you want a beer?"

"Sure."

She took a mug down from the shelf, blew dust from it, wiped out the inside with a towel and held it under the barrel faucet. When he took the mug from her his hand rested on hers for a moment. He smiled again and sucked foam off the top of the beer. Sadie said, "Do you mind if I share it?"

He handed the mug back to her, watched her drink from it, and grinned. "That's not lady-like," he said. "Do you think I should associate with the Ukes of you?"

She took on an uncaring air. "Suit yourself. Captain. All I can say is, it's a hot day and a dry one."

"That it is," he said, taking up the mug once more. "Sadie, Usten—there's nothing between me and any other woman."

"All right," she said, as though the subject didn't interest her. She turned away to put up the bar towel.

"Do you beheve that?"

She faced him quickly. "Of course I do." She had to lean forward to grasp his hand; she pulled it forward and held it, looking at the ridges of vein and tendon. Her eyes were wistful. "Justin—"

"No," he said. "No promises, Sadie. Not today. Tm just about to leave with Will Brady and Sergeant Tucker. We're going up to Inyo's camp."

"I see," she said in a small voice. She looked up.

"You understand me, don't you?"

"Yes," she said. "Til be here when you get back, Justin. Right here."

He nodded. That was what he had come to hear her say. When he raised his eyes again he said, "Come around here."

She walked around the end of the counter, paused a moment to touch the wood—a curious expression passed over her—and crossed the space between them, into his arms. His grasp encircled her; his lips dropped and found her moutL "Just that way," he murmured. "Wait for me just that way."

"I will," she breathed. He stepped back and pushed her jaw gently aside with his big fist, and left the room quickly to avoid seeing the moisture that would rise to her eyes.

He went up to the post under a hot midaftemoon sun and met Brady and Tucker in the stables. "All set?"

"Any time, Captain," Tucker said. "Want me to get that Indian out of the guardhouse?"

"Go ahead."

Tucker left the stable and Harris busied himself taking down his saddle and blanket. By that time, Brady had put the bridle on the captain s horse and led it forward. Harris smoothed the blanket down across the horse's back, threw the saddle over and cinched up. Then he stood regarding Brady soberly. "It's a rotten trick, Will-you ve only got thirty-six hours left on your contract."

"That's all right, I reckon," Brady drawled cahnly, and went back to lead his own saddled mount forward. Then he went back again, and came forward leading another horse. "What's that for?" Harris said.

"Yeager. I borrowed the horse from him to bring Tonio back. Told him I'd return it next time I was up his way."

"All right," Harris said. "Here comes Tucker. Mount up."

Sutherland sat his horse impatiently, waiting for Pete Rubio to get up from his crouching position and remount his horse. The scout was taking a long time about it. Finally Rubio mounted and trotted back to the column. "Cattle tracks and unshod horses on top of that," Rubio said. "I expect it's just a few Agency buck out trailing some of their own cattle that got loose."

"All right," Sutherland said. "Ride on ahead, Rubio, and keep me informed of what you find."

"Sure," the half-breed said. His face was blank. He wheeled his horse and rode away at a gallop. Sutherland looked back at the troopers, all of them coated with dust. He lifted his arm, called "At a trot," and dropped the arm forward, leading the patrol out. His sergeant, Tom Brophy, rode wordlessly at his side. Brophy was a man whom Sutherland had found to be uncommunicative, at least in his presence. Whatever thoughts ran through Brophy s mind were kept locked up tight inside his skuU.