Straw Men (12 page)

The Indian with the Henry rifle grabbed Clint's arm and hauled him to his feet. Clint put up a bit of a struggle, but knew it would be pointless to do much more than that. He was going where Tolfox wanted him to go and there wasn't a lot to be done about it.

Clint was shoved outside, where Tolfox fell into step in front of him like a general touring a battlefield.

“If you want to live a bit longer, you'll take me directly to Colonel Farelli,” Tolfox said.

“You already told me I was going to be killed,” Clint pointed out. “Why should I help you?”

“There are easy ways to die and terrible ones. If you play your cards right, you may get an easy death or you may be set free. If things go well enough, I'll be celebrating too much to worry about spilling your blood.”

“Fine,” Clint said. “I'll take you there.”

Tolfox stopped and stared at Clint's face. “You change your alliances that easily?”

“Do I have any other choice?”

“No,” Tolfox said with a grin. “I suppose you don't.”

“But I want someone else to come along with us,” Clint added. “Just to make sure you don't try to pull anything.”

“You truly think anyone here is on your side, white man? Who would you have join us?”

Since there were plenty of warriors standing about to watch Tolfox's little procession, Clint looked them over and settled upon one of the central figures. “Him,” he said while nodding toward Ahiga.

Tolfox chuckled. “Maybe not a wise choice, but I'll accept.” He waved toward Ahiga and continued walking to the spot where the horses were corralled. “Come along, Ahiga. If a fight is what you're after, you're in luck to night.”

There was no mistaking the expression on Ahiga's face. He grimaced as if he'd swallowed a chunk of rotten meat, but he broke away from his group and followed Tolfox to the horses.

“Why the new name?” Clint asked. “In the Dakotas, you were known as Proud Fox. You lose your pride somewhere along the way?”

“You palefaces are ignorant,” Tolfox said. “I have always been Proud Fox, but a cavalry officer did not know our language well enough so he called me Tall Fox. An even more ignorant Army man couldn't even get that right.”

“I suppose that would be Farelli?” Clint asked.

Tolfox actually smiled at that. “You would be right.”

All of the Indians picked out their horses from the ones tied to the nearby posts and Clint walked straight over to Eclipse. The only thing left on the Darley Arabian's back was the saddle. Clint just hoped his saddlebags were somewhere in the camp and hadn't just been pitched somewhere between the camp and the spot of the first attack.

“What do you expect me to do on this outing?” Clint asked.

“You'll ride in front of all of us,” Tolfox said. “You'll lead us to Farelli and motion for him to hold his fire.”

“And if he doesn't hold his fire, I catch the first bullets?”

“That would be very helpful.”

Clint pulled in a breath and climbed into his saddle. Despite everything else that had happened or was about to happen, it felt good to have Eclipse's reins back in his hands. As they rode away from the camp, Clint and Ahiga went to the front of the group while Tolfox and his tribesmen stayed a few paces behind.

“Do I at least get a weapon?” Clint asked.

Ahiga smirked. “Do you think we are stupid, white man?”

“It was worth a try. So I'm supposed to take you back to Farelli?”

“Yes.”

“If I'm to lead us anywhere, I need to know where we're coming from.”

“You remember where our first meeting was supposed to happen?” Ahiga asked.

“Yes.”

“We're about four miles south of there.”

Clint did some quick figuring and got a rough idea of where they needed to go. Fortunately, Ahiga had already pointed him in the proper basic direction.

Eclipse covered the flat, rocky ground as if he expected to make a run for freedom at any second. Clint could feel the anticipation in the stallion's muscles and could almost read Eclipse's anxious thoughts. But no matter how much Clint would have liked to give that order, he knew he wouldn't make it far before one or all of the Indians dropped him from his saddle.

As they rode, the sky became darker. The land stretched out in front of Clint like a gritty tapestry, broken up only by the occasional ridge or cluster of trees. There was a large, bright moon in the sky, which made the ride that much easier. Ahiga guided his own horse with a hand that was so sure, Clint wondered if the Navajo could somehow see better at night.

Clint motioned toward Ahiga the instant he picked out some movement in the distance. When he got a questioning glare from Ahiga, Clint said, “There're some riders up ahead.”

“I see them,” Ahiga replied.

“They're Army.”

“How do you know?”

Making a quick swipe of his hand, Clint explained, “They're riding in a search formation. They're probably looking for us.”

Ahiga's voice dropped to an intent snarl. “I think they've already found us.”

Already, the horses in the distance were turning from their original course to come toward Clint and Ahiga. Before Clint could say another word, the distant riders split into two groups to head in opposite directions. They were flanking the Indians.

When he looked over at Ahiga, Clint saw the big Indian already had a rifle in his hand. A gentle nudge with one leg was all it took for Clint to bring Eclipse a bit closer to the Navajo. Clint waited until Ahiga looked over at him before reaching out with one hand to grab hold of the Indian's gun.

Clint's fingers closed around the middle of Ahiga's rifle and tightened like a steel trap. Ahiga tried to pull the weapon back, but couldn't shake Clint loose. Now that he was slipping a bit in his saddle, Clint hung on to keep from falling as well as to arm himself. Fortunately, Eclipse moved as if he knew exactly what Clint had in mind and stayed beneath him as Clint struggled with Ahiga.

The big Navajo was every bit as strong as he looked. His own horse also moved to stay beneath him, making the struggle between the two men seem more like it was taking place on foot instead of thundering over a darkening landscape. Ahiga gritted his teeth and pulled to reclaim his weapon, but Clint wasn't about to let go. For a moment, it seemed Clint was faltering so Ahiga took advantage by pulling the rifle again.

Quickly correcting himself in the saddle, Clint loosened his grip when he knew Ahiga would be pulling with all his strength. That way, the Indian got little resistance and was caught off his guard. Ahiga fell back a ways and had to scramble to keep from falling off the other side of his horse. When his attention was focused on regaining his balance, Ahiga felt Clint resume the tug-of-war.

This time, Clint didn't pretend to falter and he didn't let Ahiga make a move. Clint felt the Indian wobbling a bit, so he leaned all the way back and pulled the rifle toward him. Even though he could have made the same mistake Ahiga had just made, Clint braced himself a little better and managed to take the rifle away from Ahiga. As soon as the weapon was in his possession, Clint tapped his heels against Eclipse's sides and leaned down low over the stallion's neck.

Shots were being fired and they weren't all coming from the Army riders. It seemed the Indians behind Clint had seen him make his move and were intent on stopping him. Fortunately, Clint had picked his spot well and didn't have far to go before he could position himself behind a few trees. Bullets whipped through the air past him and a few came awfully close to their mark before Clint steered Eclipse hard to the left and circled around the trees.

Clint didn't even bother taking a close look at the rifle in his hands. It was decorated with a few simple beaded straps and feathers and he could tell it was loaded. That was all he truly needed to know. By the time he circled around the other side of the trees, he knew the Indians had bigger worries than catching up to him.

Navajo and Crow alike let out yelping battle cries as beating hooves rumbled toward each other and more shots crackled through the air. Clint managed to circle around to the side of the spot where the Indians clashed with the first group of Army riders. Taking a moment to recall where the second group had split off, Clint looked around and spotted the remaining Army riders as they charged toward the Indians' flank.

Although it went against all of his instincts at that moment, Clint sat up tall in his saddle and held his rifle high over his head. Fortunately, the second group of Army riders seemed more focused on sneaking up to the battle than announcing their position. The riders headed straight toward Clint and held their fire long enough to get a look at him.

“I'm Clint Adams!” he shouted. “Don't shoot!”

The Army riders thundered up to where Clint had stopped. Most of them kept going, but a couple stayed behind to surround him. Both riders kept their guns drawn and pointed at Clint.

“Toss that rifle!” the first rider said.

Clint did as he was told while the rider closed the distance between them. The second rider got behind Clint and covered him from there. As the battle continued nearby, both of the Army riders kept their eyes and aim on Clint. Finally, Ahiga let out a distinctive yelp and the beating of hooves became louder than the gunfire.

The Indians moved away and then scattered in different directions, forcing the Army riders to split up or let some of them go. The soldiers held their ranks and stayed in one group, while the two with Clint stayed where they were.

Only after things quieted down for good did either of the men with Clint say anything.

“You were supposed to be dead,” the soldier said.

Clint let out a breath and replied, “I thought you'd be glad to find me.”

Although the soldiers didn't keep their guns aimed at him, Clint was taken back to Fort Winstead as something less than a returning comrade. At first, only Clint and his two escorts were approaching the fort. By the time they reached the front gate, however, the rest of the soldiers weren't far behind.

If Clint was expecting anyone to greet him with a hint of friendliness, he knew he would have to wait a bit longer once he saw Colonel Farelli stomp out of his shack with his hands placed firmly upon his hips.

“Where in the hell have you been, Adams?” Farelli asked.

Clint swung down from his saddle and wiped some of the sweat from his brow. “Good to see you too, Colonel.”

“Cut that bullshit. Come in here and tell me what the hell happened!”

Following the colonel into the shack, Clint watched to see if he would still have an escort. The other men who'd been out riding that night were too tired to volunteer for that duty. They swapped a few words with each other, but either made their way to the saloon or dragged themselves to the bunk house.

As soon as Clint was inside the shack, Farelli slammed the door shut behind him. “Start explaining yourself, Adams.”

“I haven't seen anyone else who was sent out with Lieutenant McGurn,” Clint said.

“That's because none of them made it back.”

“None of them?”

“Are you deaf? None of them!”

Clint sat down and tried to smother the anger that was flaring up inside him every time Farelli barked at him like he was punishing a child. “We got to the meeting place. The Indians were there and everything seemed to be going the way—”

“What about the chief?” Farelli cut in. “Was Chief Tolfox there, too?”

“Yes, sir. He was there. In fact, he was in the same tent with McGurn when Nolan opened fire on the whole damn place.”

Farelli's eyes narrowed, but he didn't start yelling again. On the contrary, he sat down behind his desk, reached into a drawer, and pulled out a bottle half full of whiskey. “I need a drink. What about you, Adams?”

Under any other circumstance, Clint would refuse whiskey without a thought. But since this was the first time Farelli seemed to ease up around him, Clint wasn't about to turn his nose up at the offer. He accepted the whiskey and passed it under his nose. He wasn't an expert on the subject, but it smelled expensive.

“How long have you known McGurn?” Farelli asked.

Clint shrugged. “It's been a while, and we've only met a handful of times.”

“Then you may or may not know he's been a pain in my ass for a long time. He's gone so far as to spread the word around here that I didn't earn my promotions. You know, on the battlefield, I could have him shot for saying such a thing.”

“Maybe, but this isn't a battlefield.”

“It has been ever since those Injuns declared war on me. You know how I got promoted this far up the chain?”

“I've been wondering about that.”

Either Farelli didn't pick up on the sarcasm in Clint's voice or he didn't care about it, because he kept talking without a hitch. “I cleaned up not just one other area of an Indian menace, but two. Hell, I even had a lot to do with a third, but some other officer got credit for that. You know how McGurn made his rank?”

Clint shook his head.

“By riding on patrols and spending months out in the wilderness. You know what I call that?” Farelli asked. “A trapper. A scout. Not a soldier. Can you believe that?”

“And what about Nolan?” Clint asked.

Farelli shook his head and sipped his drink. “He's been at war with the Indians for years. He could probably smell an ambush coming.”

“You think he'd want to kill Proud Fox?”

“Only if that bastard had something set up that would kill the lieutenant and all of his men.” Motioning toward Clint with enough force to spill some of his whiskey, Farelli added, “That includes you, you know.”

Clint nodded. “I know.”

“So where were you these last few days? Everyone around here thought you were dead.”

“I tried to tip the scales back in our favor at the meeting, but it was too late. I got knocked in the back of the head, woke up in an Indian camp with a headache to beat all, and I agreed to ride with the Indian scouts just so I could get close enough to make my move. Once I saw my chance, I broke free and met up with some of your men. I'd appreciate it if you called them in here. They're the ones that deserve a drink.”

“I'm sure you'll find them in the saloon.” Farelli leaned forward in his chair and asked, “Do you think you could remember where that camp is?”

“I should be able to find my way there again.”

“Did you happen to pick up on anything else while you were among those savages?”

“Sure,” Clint replied. “I know they're getting ready to pull up stakes and move again real soon. I also know that chief has got something he wants to deliver to the Federals and he's sure not about to hand it over to anyone around here.”

“You mean Tolfox?”

Clint nodded slowly, noting how Farelli drifted right back into calling the Crow Tolfox after having slipped up not too long ago. “That's the chief I mean.”

“What's he got?”

“I don't know. I wasn't exactly in a good spot to ask, but I might just be able to find out.”