Four. At least four.
Ike drew his six-shooter and vowed to take as many of the Apaches with him as he could.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The first bullet sang past Ike’s head, high and to the right. The slug kicked up a tiny mountain of dirt halfway up a rain-caked dune. Ike leveled his pistol, again aware of how he shook inside, but his hand was rock steady. His finger drew back, then relaxed when he got a good sight picture of his target. He let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he held in his lungs.
“Corporal! Hey, it’s me. I’ve got your lieutenant with me. He’s hurt pretty bad.” He waved to draw the man’s attention to his words.
“It’s a trick. Don’t listen!”
Ike wasn’t able to identify which of the bluecoats riding alongside the corporal shouted that fearful warning, but he hoped it made no sense to the others. Even if the Apaches spoke English with a decided Texas drawl straight out of Houston, this wasn’t the kind of trap they sprang.
“Hold your fire. Don’t you dare fire, Private Watson. The rest of you, hang back and let me parley.” The corporal stopped a dozen yards away.
Ike took the risk of being filled full of holes by the anxious soldiers. Hands in the air, he stood and stepped forward.
“See? It’s me.”
“Where’s the lieutenant?”
“Behind me a ways. He’s cut up pretty bad. He passed out before we got back to the railroad tracks. He needs a doctor right now.”
The corporal edged forward a few more feet. He lifted his carbine and pointed it into the night sky. Ike breathed easier now.
“Where’d you get the horses?”
“Two Indians weren’t using them anymore,” Ike answered. “Look real close. This is the same one I rode before the ambush. You recognize it, don’t you?”
The corporal squinted and nodded slowly. “And I recognize you.”
“Did you take care of the war party that chased you off?” Ike intended to keep the corporal talking until he was completely sure he didn’t face any danger. Ike didn’t blame him for being so skittish after all the patrol had been through the past few hours.
“We turned the tables and set an ambush for them,” the corporal said. “Where’s the sergeant?”
“I don’t think he made it,” Ike said. “And the lieutenant’s not going to, either, unless you get him some help. Is there a corpsman with you?”
“We can get him back to Fort Davis. The captain’s not exactly a doctor, but he’s purty near as good. He worked as an assistant all through the war.”
The corporal barked orders. Two privates reluctantly obeyed. They dismounted and went to their commander, fearful of both the lieutenant and Ike. Finally, one dropped down and rolled the officer over.
“It’s him, Samuel.”
“Who’d you think it’d be?” snapped the corporal. “He’s wearing an officer’s uniform. How many others out here are wearing an officer’s uniform?” The corporal cursed long and loud. The private shot to his feet and belligerently shoved out his chin.
“You watch your tongue,” the private called. “You ain’t got but two stripes. Orderin’ us around don’t mean a thing.”
“Gentlemen, please,” Ike said, stepping between them. “How do you intend returning to Fort Davis as fast as possible? A life depends on it.”
“He never done us any favors.” For an instant, Ike thought the private was going to spit on his prone officer.
“I’m a deputy Federal marshal,” he said loud enough for them all to hear. “I may be a civilian, but I outrank the lot of you.” Ike felt his heart hammering harder at such a bald-faced lie. “See? Here’s my badge.” He thrust Yarrow’s badge up for the corporal to see. “The Indians have shot your patrol up something fierce. It’s time to get back to your post and recover. An orderly retreat means you have to see that your commanding officer stays alive. Do you understand me?”
“Is it true, Samuel?” A rider drew even with the corporal. “He’s a US Marshal?”
“I’m a deputy Federal marshal,” Ike barked before the corporal had a chance to answer. “You will address me by my proper title. Now get him lashed down over a horse. There is no time to waste.”
The corporal snapped out orders and let Ike step away. He felt a glow of success. Ordering around the soldiers felt natural.
Natural if he pretended he was Deputy Yarrow.
The lieutenant moaned as his men hoisted him over the captured Apache horse. Ike justified his lie, knowing the officer had a chance at survival now. A slim one from the look of his wounds, but it was better than if a fugitive from a Houston shylock had tried to help. Ike swung up and took the reins in hand. The tremors he had felt inside now transferred to his demeanor. If he had quaked like this when he ordered around the soldiers, they might have left him for dead in the middle of the West Texas desert.
He followed the patrol, letting them scout ahead. Somewhere in the cold desert night the Apache war party roamed. A half hour into the ride, Ike’s hands stopped trembling, and he felt more confident.
The corporal came back and rode beside him.
“We’re less than a mile from the railroad, sir.”
Ike perked up. The soldier had called him sir, as if he were in command. A simple denial would clear things up, but Ike wasn’t about to do that. He enjoyed the notion of being in charge. Finally, for once in his life, he had respect, and the soldiers obeyed his commands. That was a new feeling. He liked it.
“I’d heard that Apaches didn’t go out at night,” he said.
“They’re all scared of snakes. Ever’body knows that, but these? These are Mimbreños and ain’t feared of nothing.”
“Especially cavalry patrols,” Ike said under his breath.
“From the way they’re prowlin’ about, they’re lookin’ for something. I got my own ideas, but nobody agrees.”
“What are they after, Corporal?”
“Like the rest of us. Freedom. They don’t want to be penned up on a reservation and have to beg to be let off it.”
Ike considered that and found no fault with the logic. He hadn’t expected the corporal to hold such an opinion. And then, on reflection, what other could he give?
“ ’Til they get ever’thing straightened out, though, we got to cut them down whenever we see them.” The corporal muttered under his breath and added, “Just like they got to shoot us whenever they spy us.”
“Tracks!” came the call from ahead. “We’re at the railroad again.”
The corporal issued new orders. Ike was aware of how the soldiers took in what the man said, then looked at him for approval. Since it fit with his intentions, all he had to do was nod knowingly. This was good enough for the soldiers to begin riding alongside the railroad tracks.
The going was easier here than cutting across the desert. Cinders and gravel provided a better path than rain-hardened sand where horses’ hooves broke through the crust and then sank into shifting sand.
“Sir,” the corporal said after a few miles. “If we cut off that way across the desert, we’ll get to the post before sundown.”
Ike squinted since the clouds had blown away. From his guess, it was less than an hour until sunrise. They had made good time in the dark, thanks to easier going along the railroad easement.