Kilrone (1966) Page 11

  “To the south?”

  “Yes, sir. Whatever it was didn’t last long. There wa s heavy firing for just a few minutes, and it ende d abruptly.”

  When Johnson had gone, Mellett poked irritably a t the fire. “Damn it, CartI Damn it to helll”

  Hanlon smiled grimly. “That’s no language for a n officer and a gentleman, Charlie.”

  “That firing … do you suppose that could have bee n Paddock?”

  Hanlon was arranging his bed on the grass. He turne d sharply. “Paddock? My God!”

  Chapter 12

  The Indians seemed to be waiting for something o r somebody. Was it for darkness only? Or was it for th e arrival of some one?

  Mary Tall Singer was helping Denise change th e dressing on the wound of the child cut by flying glass.

  “What are they waiting for?” Kilrone asked her.

  She did not reply for a moment, then looked aroun d at him with an oddly defiant expression. They wait fo r Medicine Dog. He comes with many warriors.”

  He considered that. It was likely that the Dog ha d himself planned whatever action was to take place i n the north, and that what she said was true. The Indian s could move faster than the cavalry, for they had muc h less equipment and knew all the secret passes throug h the canyons. Undoubtedly some Indians would remai n behind to carry on sporadic sniping attacks on th e mounted columns or on their camps.

  What if they managed to stampede the horses of th e cavalry? It had been done more than once in the past , and the entire command might be set afoot, miles fro m the post.

  When they attacked again it was with no sudde n rush. It was, rather, with a steady movement along th e two sides of the parade ground, coming up behind th e buildings in an effort to get into easy firing range.

  It was Ryerson who detected this. Scarcely able t o stand after the long, tiring day, he was crouched nea r the window when he saw an Indian inside a buildin g hitherto empty. A vague movement drew his attentio n to the roof of a barracks, and there was another Indian.

  Carefully, he eased his rifle into position. “Get ready!” h e whispered. “Here they cornel”

  He glimpsed the Indian on the roof again, fired, an d missed. Instantly there was a smashing volley throug h the hole in the wall, some of the bullets cutting throug h the table and other furniture piled up against it; the n came a blow with a wagon tongue, and the tongu e drove clear through the wreckage and into the room. A n Indian lunged, trying to break through, and Reinhard t clubbed him with a broken table-leg, crushing his skull.

  The attack came from all sides. First a volley by ever y rifle in Indian hands, then a rush for the windows an d the shelter of the walls close by.

  Kilrone standing up inside a window, levered sho t after shot, choosing his targets with care. Suddenly, fa r down the parade ground, a barracks burst into flame , and then another.

  “Well,” Teale said grimly, “if they’re anywhere withi n sight they should see that!”

  They aren’t.” Hopkins’ tone was bitter.

  All at once there was a thunder of hoofs, and throug h the billowing smoke that blew across the parade groun d came the charging herd of horses from the corral. Take n some time before, they must have been held somewher e close by; but now they came rushing down upon th e Headquarters building as if to charge right through it.

  “Watch it!” Kilrone shouted. “There’ll be Indians behin d them!”

  And there were—at least forty of them.

  The herd split as it neared the building, breakin g away to escape crashing into the wall, and as they brok e away the Indians appeared, clinging low down on thei r horses and firing under their necks, as was the India n way. They too split and rode to left and right, droppin g from their horses close by the walls. Lahey, firing from a window, killed one Indian, wounded another.

  On the far side of Headquarters, Draper fired into th e massed horses as they pressed between the buildings , killing one of the Indians. He was leaning out for a sho t at another when a bullet caught him in the chest. He staggered back, coughing and spitting blood, then wen t to his knees. He died there, sagging slowly to the floor , and for minutes nobody could get to him because of th e fire the attackers poured through the unguarded window.

  Kells suffered a minor wound; Hopkins had a gun sho t from his hand, leaving the hand numb to the wrist.

  Kilrone opened up with his six-shooters and cleared th e window. An Indian, running forward, suddenly leape d from below the window sill and grabbed his shirt. Kilrone , striking down with a gun barrel, smashed th e Indian across the collarbone, missing his skull, an d the infuriated savage clung to him, dragging him over th e sill.

  Kells grabbed his ankles and hung on, while Kilrone , fighting wildly against the wounded Indian, who wa s now joined by another, jammed his gun muzzle agains t the Indian’s belly and pulled the trigger.

  The Indian jerked convulsively, but still clung, saggin g to the ground, his fingers caught in a death grip o n Kilrone’s shirt. Kilrone, struggling fiercely to get away , felt rather than saw the other Indian pull back his knif e for a thrust, and then heard a gun blast and the India n tottered back, his face shot away.

  He looked up and saw Betty Considine, her face whit e and strained, holding a shotgun. “Get in … quick!” sh e cried. And then the shotgun let go its second barrel ove r his head.

  Jerking himself free, he lunged for the window, an d felt something smash against his boot heel just as he sli d through the window and was pulled to safety. He hit th e floor and rolled over, and started to get up as Bett y Considine coolly thumbed shells into the twin barrels o f the gun.

  “Thanks,” he said. T thought they had me.”

  She flashed a quick smile, then went back to the roo m where the children were.

  There was no respite now. More Indians had com e up, and they seemed to have no shortage of ammunition.

  Powder smoke filled the room. The men insid e moved from window to window, firing, coughing, firin g again. Women caught up the emptied rifles an d thumbed cartridges into them.

  Kilrone reloaded his six-guns, caught up his rifle, an d returned to a window. Darkness was falling now, weirdl y lit by the blazing barracks. It would be no time at al l until the flames reached the officers’ quarters.

  The idea of escape was remote. They were surrounde d on all sides, and the fire was intense. Obviously , Medicine Dog had arrived and was driving for a quic k victory.

  Stella Rybolt caught Kilrone’s arm and pointed out o f the window. All the glass was gone from the windows , which here and there had been partly boarded up o r covered by furniture piled in the open spaces, Over th e top of this obstruction his eyes followed her finger.

  On the slope of the mountain stood a long row o f Indians, where the sun’s reflected light picked them ou t sharply. In blankets and headdresses, they sat thei r horses and watched, like spectators at an arena.

  “You take it from me,” she shouted in his ear, to b e heard above the din, “they’re waiting to see how Medicin e Dog works. If they think there’s a chance, they’l l join; if not they’ll pull out.”

  They had done the same thing a few years before a t Adobe Walls, down in the Panhandle of Texas. Som e fifteen hundred Indians were reported to have stoo d watching to see what Quanah Parker would do.

  How could they escape even if they wished? And ho w dare they leave the rifles and ammunition to the Indians?

  It would mean the death of hundreds of innocent peopl e if those rifles fell into the hands of Medicine Dog and hi s Indian followers.

  The attack suddenly broke. There were a few scattere d shots, then quiet.

  Kilrone thought of the little group of defenders. Mende l was badly wounded, Olson and Draper were dead.

  Kells had a scratch, Ryerson was ill. Their force ha d suffered badly, and there would be another attack a t any time, he knew.

  How many such attacks could they stand? Above all , how many Indians had taken shelter close t
o the walls?

  The women came now with coffee and thick slabs o f bread. Slowly the smoke began to drift from the rooms.

  In a way, tiry had been lucky so far, but they could no t expect such luck to continue.

  Kilrone sank to the floor and checked his guns. Al l were loaded, all in working order. He accepted th e coffee as it was brought to him, taking it from the hand s of Denise, who dropped to her knees beside him.

  “Where do you think they are, Barnes?”

  “I don’t know—headed this way, I hope.”

  “Do you thinV they’ve had a fight?”

  He considered that. “Not much of a one, I’d guess. I t hink this is the main fight, right here. The hell of it is, a man can die just as easily in a minor fight.”

  Kells. his wound bandaged, was stretched out on th e floor resting Teale was slumped against the wall, hal f asleep. Battle took a dreadful toll of a man’s strength , and the wise ones learned to sleep when and where the y could—those who could were the lucky ones.

  Nobody tried to do anything to repair damage done t o their defenses, for everyone was exhausted.

  The door of Headquarters was sagging, shot into fragments.

  It had been partly replaced by the door from th e outer office to the commandant’s office, which had bee n placed on its side, covering half of the space.

  The clouds that had covered the sky earlier were no w gone and the stars were out. The fires were dying down , but here and there among the ruins of the barracks tha t had burned, tiny flickering flames still ate hungrily a t what remained of timbers. Some of the barracks stil l stood—one half burned, was only a shell, gaping to th e sky.

  Kilrone thought of Sproul. There had been no sign o f conflict from Hog Town. No lights showed there, and al l was still. No doubt the Indians had been told to leav e Sproul’s place alone. Kilrone had no evidence, but h e knew Sproul was in this somehow. Those explosions ha d been set by a white man—perhaps by a renegade, but i t Was equally possible that it was by one of Sproul’s men.

  They might try that again. He thought of it, and kne w it was likely, but there was nothing to be done except t o try and spot any man carrying a package and trying t o get at the walls. Maybe he was already there, maybe h e had arrived with the stampeding horses and the Indian s that followed. But Kilrone thought not. The man who se t those mines was no gambler; he believed in safety firs t He would watch his chance, move in, then get awa y quickly.

  Kilrone stretched out his tired legs, and worked th e fingers of his gun hand.

  “I wish Frank understood about us,” he said to Denise.

  “He’s a good man.”

  She nodded, twisting her hands in her lap. “Nothing I c ould do would ever make him believe it,” she said. “I t ried.”

  His thoughts turned to Betty Considine. He remembere d her face when she had shot that Indian. Ther e had been an unexpected fierceness in her eyes. He smiled a little at the thought, remembering a line fro m an old story about a woman fit to bear a race of warrior s … well, she was the kind.

  How much damage had they done, he wondered. No t so much as they hoped, he was sure, for it had alway s been so in battles between the Indian and the whit e man. The latter was inclined to exaggerate the numbe r killed. The Indian had a way of vanishing when shot at , and many a white man who believed he had killed a n Indian had not even scratched him.

  After a bit he got to his feet and prowled the buildin g like a caged animal, checking each window and each o f the people in turn. From the end window of the building , he called across to Ryerson in the hospital. It wa s Lahey who answered.

  “The Sarge is about done in,” he said. “He’s used up.

  He fell asleep as soon as he crawled to his bed, but h e was right in there, throwin’ lead with the best of us.”

  “Can you stick itr “Seems like. One more time, anyway.”

  “Lahey, you and Reinhardt get what medicines an d bandages together you can handle. We may have t o abandon that building.”

  Then from the window nearest the warehouse, h e called across a distance of scarcely twelve feet. If any o f the buildings had to be held, it was the warehouse, bu t getting the children and women across the intervenin g space would be a very dangerous thing to try.

  “McCracken,” he said, when the man had appeared , “how are you over there?”

  “We’re all right. Not that we couldn’t use anothe r man. Mendel’s in bad shape, and no use to us.”

  Kilrone turned his head slightly. “Ryan, come here.”

  When the teamster was beside him at the window, h e said, “They need help over there. Want to chance it?”

  Ryan studied the windows, and the space between. He touched his tongue to his dry lips. “Sure, I’ll try.”

  Kilrone turned again. “Teale, you and Rudio get t o the front windows. Give Ryan some cover when h e crosses. Don’t shoot unless you see somebody aiming thi s way. I’d like to get him across without drawing thei r attention.”

  He was thinking of the women and children. Once th e Indians suspected they might attempt that passag e across, they would be alert for it, and would make th e venture almost impossible.

  Ryan climbed to the window sill, looked across, an d dropped swiftly to the ground. Three fast steps and h e had scrambled through, unseen.

  It had been a reckless thing to do, and Kilrone kne w it. He mopped the sweat from his face and sat down.

  They could hold out here only a little longer; and th e window on the side toward the hospital would be unde r heavy fire from the hospital as soon as the Bannock s took over that building. Moreover, there were Indian s right under the walls, impossible to fire upon, and jus t waiting to leap through a window or to catch anybod y who ventured outside. One person they might manag e to get across, but any real stir of action would be sure t o attract attention.

  Betty came to him. “Barney, have you thought of th e roof? There’s a trap door.”

  “Is there one over there?”

  “There is in all the buildings, in case of fire on th e roof.”

  He considered that. With planks or joists they migh t bridge the gap, then lay doors or something across them.

  But twelve feet… it was quite a distance. And it woul d have to be done at night.

  He went back to the window next to the hospital an d called in a low voice. This time it was Reinhardt wh o came to the window. Could they make it across to th e warehouse, Kilrone asked.

  Reinhardt hesitated, and when he replied it was i n German. Kilrone, who knew enough of the language fo r a simple conversation, responded. There might be Indian s between the buildings, but it would have to b e chanced.

  Reinhardt vanished from the window, and Lahey appeared.

  When Reinhardt returned he said, “The Sarg e says to leave him. He doesn’t think he can make it.”

  “Hell make it. Get him over.”

  Again the distance was twelve feet. Reinhard t climbed to the sill, a bundle on his back, a white bundl e that he had covered with an army blanket. He droppe d to the ground and walked swiftly across and was helpe d through the window.

  Lahey followed, half earring Ryerson. They ha d brought their rifles and most of the ammunition the y still had left.

  Suddenly Betty was at Kilrone’s side. “Barney,” sh e said softly, “I didn’t want to alarm the others, but there’s somebody in the loft… above the ceiling.”

  He stood very still. He could feel . The coldness insid e him. The Indians were on the roof, then, and some ha d come through the trap door and were crouched in th e loft, waiting.

  When the next attack started, they would dro p through the trap door and be inside.

  Chapter 13

  How many were up there? He listened, tuning his ear s to sounds from above, trying not to hear those abou t him. At first he heard nothing, then he sensed a fain t stirring, no more than a rat might make. But he doubte d if any rats were left up there after all the shooting, fo r rats
had a way of seeking safety in time.

  How many? Not more than four or five, probably—th e Indians who had stayed against the walls after the las t attack. He went over to where Ryerson lay, his face gra y with weakness, his eyes hollow and shining with fever.

  Tim,” Kilrone said quietly, “did you help build thi s place?”

  “I had charge of the detail. Lieutenant Rybolt was i n command of the operation.”

  “What’s above us? Is there an attic?”

  “Nothing you’d call that. There’s about four feet o f space up there. You see our ceiling … one-inch boards , nailed to two-by-fours. There’s no floor in the attic, i f you want to call it that. There’s a slanting roof, with jus t enough pitch to drain it, and a parapet around the roo f about two feet high.”

  “Keep your six-gun handy, Tim, there’s somebody u p there.”

  Moving swiftly, he lined up all the men who coul d stand, and spaced them three feet apart. In their places , to watch from the windows, he placed Denise, Betty , Stella Rybolt, Alice Dunivant, and Martha Whitman.

  “At the word,” he said to the men in a low voice, “fir e into the ceiling. Take a step forward and fire again; a nother step, and another volley. Well repeat in th e other room. We may not get them all, but well mak e them uncomfortable up there.”

  The men were ready. In another instant Kilron e spoke, “Fire!”

  The smashing roar of the rifles was deafening in th e confined space. Each man took a step, fired; stepped , and fired again. Then swiftly they moved to the othe r room, and fired into the ceiling from there. Dust fell … t here was a moment of silence, then a groan. From a crack in the ceiling drops of blood trickled and fell.

  There was a faint stir above them, and three rifle s centered on the spot and fired. A violent movement lik e a kick followed, then a weakening struggle.

  “Are we going up there?” Lahey asked.

  “Not yet,” Kilrone said. “I don’t want to stick my hea d through that trap door, and I don’t think you do.”

  The powder smoke made their heads ache. The y crouched near the floor, letting it slowly find its way ou t of the broken windows and door.