“What do you want to speak to the colonel about?”
“That’s between us and the colonel,” the sheriff said.
Corporal Gibson shook his head. “No, it ain’t between you and the colonel. Not unless I say it is. I’m in charge here, so I’m the one you are going to have to deal with. Now, I’m goin’ to ask you one more time, real nice. What do you want to see the colonel for?”
“And I’m going to tell you one more time ... real nice,” the sheriff replied, emphasizing the “real nice,” “that what we want to talk to your commanding officer about is none of your business. It is between the colonel and us.”
With a dismissive wave of his hand, the corporal turned and started walking away. “In that case, the answer is no, you cannot see the colonel,” he called back over his shoulder.
“How the hell are we going to get around this arrogant shit?” the sheriff asked, frustrated by the self-inflated ego of the corporal.
“Wait here for a moment, Sheriff, and let me talk to him,” Falcon said. “I’m pretty sure I will be able to reason with him.”
Sheriff Corbin shook his head. “No, I don’t think you can. I’ve seen his kind before. He’s probably been up and down the ranks a dozen times or more, and he wears what stripes he has managed to hang onto like a crown ... lording it over anyone he can.”
“Don’t give up yet. Let me try,” Falcon said, walking quickly toward the corporal. “Corporal,” he called. “Wait a moment. Let’s see if we can’t work this out.”
The corporal turned toward him with a smirk. “So, you goin’ to tell me what you want to talk to the colonel about?” he asked. “I thought you might come around.”
“No,” Falcon said. “But I do believe we can work this out. You see, I’m going to give you one more opportunity to take us to see him. And I think you ought to take it, because otherwise I don’t think you will care much for the consequences.”
“You are going to give me one more opportunity?” the corporal asked. He laughed. “All right, you’ve given me my ... opportunity ... so what happens now if I don’t take it? What consequences are you talking about?”
“It’s a rather severe consequence, Corporal. Because you see, if you don’t take us to see the colonel, I am going to kill you,” Falcon said easily.
“You’ll what?” the corporal replied. Again he laughed, but this time the laughter was strained. “What did you just say to me?”
“I said, if you don’t take us to see the colonel, I am going to kill you,” Falcon repeated.
“How are you going to do that?” the corporal asked with a nervous, snorting type of laugh.
“Easy. You see, I’m wearing a gun and you aren’t. I’ll just pull my gun and I will kill you.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“Are you crazy? You are in the middle of an Army post. Do you think you could just shoot me here and get away with it?”
“Oh, I don’t just think I can. I know I can,” Falcon said.
The corporal pointed to the gate. “Look, mister, in case you haven’t noticed it, there is an armed guard not fifteen yards from here.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I’ll kill him too,” Falcon said. “Of course, I’d rather not shoot him unless I have to, because he hasn’t pissed me off. But Corporal, you have pissed me off. So believe me when I say that I won’t have any trouble killing you at all.”
“Now ... wait a minute,” the corporal said, pointing at Falcon. “You can’t ... uh ...” He stopped in mid-sentence. His pupils were dilated with fear, his nostrils were flared, sweat was popping out all over his face, and he started licking his lips nervously. “You ... you are serious, aren’t you? You really would kill me.”
Falcon smiled. “Maybe you aren’t quite as dumb as you look. It’s time to get down to the nut-cutting, Corporal. Do we see the colonel, or do I kill you? It’s up to you, and at this point I really don’t give a shit which it is. I believe I’d just as soon kill you as not.” Falcon didn’t pull his gun, but he did let his hand rest lightly on the handle of one of his pistols. “What’s it going to be?”
“All right, all right!” the corporal said nervously. “I’ll take you to see the colonel.”
“Good. Oh, and Corporal, this conversation we just had? Let’s keep it our little secret, shall we? I mean, we wouldn’t want to be blabbing it to my friend the sheriff, or to the colonel, or anyone else, that I was going to kill you, would we?”
“No,” the corporal answered in a muffled and choked voice.
“No, what?”
“No, I won’t say nothin’ to nobody about it,” the corporal mumbled. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped at the big drops of sweat that had suddenly popped out on his face.
“I thought you might see it my way,” Falcon said. He turned toward the sheriff and waved him on. “Come along, Sheriff. The corporal and I have worked things out.”
“You have?”
“Tell him it’s all right,” Falcon said to the corporal.
“It’s ... all right,” the corporal said. “I’ll take you to see the colonel.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Sheriff Corbin said, coming toward them, leading both horses. “You must have some kind of a silver tongue.”
“Yeah,” Falcon said. “I can be pretty damn persuasive when I want to be.”
Still unmounted, Falcon and Sheriff Corbin followed the corporal from the front gate and out onto the post toward the headquarters building. The fort was laid out around a large, square parade ground, fronted on all four sides by the buildings of the garrison. Most of the buildings were two-story wooden barracks buildings. But next to every third barracks building were somewhat smaller structures. These, Falcon knew, were the individual company mess halls.
The parade ground was a large rectangle, with the barracks buildings and mess halls on each of the longer sides. The stables and corral occupied one end of the rectangle, while the post hospital and sutler’s store sat at the opposite end. Midway down the far side of the parade ground, and situated right behind the flagpole, was a brick building. This was the only brick building on the entire fort, and it was to this building the three men were headed.
A white sign in front of the brick building featured crossed swords, in gold, while in black letters were the words:
FORT LOWELL MILITARY RESERVATION
Headquarters
Fifth Cavalry Regt.
United States Army
Post Commandant and Regimental Commander
Fred M. Dixon
Colonel of Cavalry
“This here is the orderly room. You can tie your horses off here,” the corporal said, pointing to a hitching rail.
“Thanks,” Sheriff Corbin said as he began wrapping his reins around the rail. Falcon did the same; then they followed the corporal up onto the little wooden porch and Corporal Gibson knocked on the door.
“Enter,” a voice called from inside.
Inside the orderly room of the headquarters building, they saw a tall, impressive-looking, clean-shaven NCO who was sitting at a desk in front of a large wall map of Pima County, Arizona. A sign on the NCO’s desk read:
Seamus O’Riley
Regimental Sergeant Major
“What is it, Corporal Gibson?” the sergeant major asked.
“Sergeant Major, these here men are the sheriff and his deputy. They want to speak to the colonel, but I don’t know what it’s about.”
“I wouldn’t think that you would. It’s not your business to know,” Sergeant Major O’Riley replied. “If they want to speak to the colonel, then their business is with him.”
“Yeah, but don’t you think ...” Corporal Gibson started to say, but the sergeant major cut him off.
“Don’t try to think, Gibson,” he said. “You’re not that good at thinking.”