Brings the Lightning (The Ames Archives Book 1) (23 page)

The officer nodded. “I’m told people are startin’ to use it as a verb—to ‘Injun up’ on somebody.”

“That’s not a bad way of puttin’ it. Say, what do you know about them closin’ Fort Fletcher?”

“They’ll be reopening it as Fort Hays, with new buildings and a much bigger garrison. The army is building up its presence to protect the railroad. There are plans for this place as well. It looks like it’ll be moved sometime in the next couple of years, and probably renamed as well, with a proper fort built to replace these dugouts and sod buildings. Can’t happen too soon, if you ask me. We need something more defensible. Injuns have raided us more than once. One time they stole all but two of our horses. How are we supposed to keep the area safe when we can’t even secure our own mounts?”

“Can’t argue with that. Any chance you can give us an escort through to Pond Creek Stage Station an’ back again?”

“Sorry, I can’t. It’s too far from here. They’d be gone for over a month at the peak of raidin’ season. I can’t spare them that long. I’ve got to escort the Butterfield stages through my area of responsibility. You’ve got that platoon from Fort Riley, though.”

“Yeah, but it’s only twenty men, an’ raw recruits to boot. Last year, when Butterfield’s big convoy pushed through from Atchison, he had two hundred and fifty men in the escort. Twenty ain’t much compared to that. I feel kinda naked.”

“Can’t blame you, but Butterfield had a couple o’ hundred wagons to take all the way to Denver City. You’ve only got thirty to take from here to Pond Creek. Also, part of that escort’s job was to improve the road an’ pick sites for more way stations. You won’t have to do any of that.”

“What about Injun trouble further out on the plains?”

“I figure it’s going to be a bad year. Satank’s already out raidin’. There’s also another young Kiowa buck who’s tryin’ to make a name for himself as a war leader. Apparently he got all swell-headed in the council one night an’ told Satank to his face that he an’ the other old chiefs were too soft on the whites. Said the old man’s medicine had gone bad. Seems Satank just sat back an’ listened, then told the youngster that if his medicine was so good, he should show them all, not just talk about it.”

Jones sniggered as the scouts smiled. “It’s not a good idea to tell a war chief like Satank to his face that you think he’s past it. Now that boy’s gotta produce the goods, or else!”

“Yeah, but that puts you in a spot. The Kiowa might figure that a thirty-wagon train will be easier pickin’s than a bigger army convoy later in the year, or an emigrant train with lots o’ armed men. Also, you offer a lot more loot than one of the regular stagecoaches from Atchison to Denver City. I’d say you’ll be a prime target.”

“Thanks for nothin’! What’s this young buck’s name, an’ how many men does he have?”

“Hunting Wolf. He’s said to be within a few days’ ride of here with thirty to forty men. Satank’s probably got twice that many. He’s ridin’ further west. As you get closer to Pond Creek, there may be Comanche bands roamin’ around lookin’ for trouble, too, just like they do every summer.”

“Looks like it’s gonna be an interestin’ trip.”

“Yeah. If I was you, I’d take along some of the teamsters you’d normally leave here to drive their wagons back once we’ve unloaded ’em. You might need their guns.”

“Yeah, but if we do that, their teams will be targets for thieves here. I’ll have to think about it.”

As they walked back to the wagons, Tad warned Walt, “If those Arapaho or Cheyenne come after hosses tonight, they’ll likely come after yours. You’re a softer target than the cavalry, to their way o’ thinkin’, an’ you’ve got seven. The train’s hosses are scattered around the circle, but yours are bunched together near your wagons. Makes them a prime target.”

“Yeah. I’ll warn Samson and Elijah to be alert tonight.” Walt gestured in frustration. “What gets me is that to those Indians, this is like a game. It’s a rite of passage, a stepping-stone for their youngsters on the way to becoming warriors.”

“That’s about the size of it. Their warriors will steal hosses too, but that tends to be on a raidin’ party where they’ll take anythin’ of value to ’em. If we see hoss thieves tonight, it’ll most likely be youngsters from them two huntin’ camps.”

“And it’s a game to them, even if they could get killed playing it?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Damned if I can see it that way. I mean, if I kill one of them trying to steal a horse, won’t the rest of his people paint for war in revenge, and come after me an’ the wagon train?”

“You never know with Injuns. They might. Best to discourage the youngsters without killin’ ’em, if you can.”

“How can I do that?”

“Throw a hell of a fright into them. Do somethin’ that’ll scare the loincloths right off ’em. That’ll also make the others laugh ’emselves silly. Injuns have a pretty good sense of humor when it comes to seein’ someone make an ass of themselves.”

“Hmm… you know, that gives me an idea.” Walt turned to Tom Jones. “We’ll have the animals inside the circle of wagons tonight, won’t we?”

“In Injun country? If we put ’em out overnight to graze, we wouldn’t have any left by mornin’! I’ll have sentries on watch all night, too, an’ every night until we get to Pond Creek.”

“In that case, would you tell your teamsters to make sure the ropes between the wagons are properly rigged, to stop the mules getting out? The sentries should stand by for gunfire during the night, with some real big muzzle flashes. Their animals will probably get spooked, an’ they’ll have to calm them down.”

Jones stared. “Now just what have you got in mind, Ames?”

Walt explained, and the haulier’s grin grew broader as he listened. “Well, hell!” he exclaimed. “I jus’ might have to join in the fun myself!”

“Me too!” Tad volunteered with a laugh.

“You’re both welcome to help out. I have enough to go around. Of course, we don’t know if they’ll try anything, so we may be wasting our time.”

“If they do, it’ll prob’ly be round about midnight, to give ’em the rest of the night to get clear,” Tad advised. “If they leave it too late, a patrol might be able to catch up with ’em in the morning. We’ll find out soon enough.”

―――――

Samson and Elijah watched in astonishment as Walt pulled the buckshot from the first of the six short-barreled shotguns at his side, then reloaded it.

“Be dat a
double
charge o’ powder, suh?” Elijah asked.

“Yes, it is,” Walt answered as he rammed home a wad on top of it, then used one of Rose’s measuring cups to scoop up half an ounce of dried peas and pour them down the barrel.

“But, suh,
peas
ain’t gonna stop a hoss thief,” Samson pointed out, mystified.

“We don’t want to kill them, or even wound them. We just want to throw a good scare into any Indians that come calling tonight. Dried peas won’t do much damage, but they’ll sting something fierce.” Walt rammed a double wad down onto the peas to hold them in place, then leaned the shotgun against a wagon wheel and picked up the next one.

“Is it safe to double-charge them?” Rose asked dubiously.

“Safe enough. Don’t forget, these were originally muskets. Their barrels are much thicker than shotguns, so they can take the pressure. They normally fire an ounce of birdshot or buckshot, or a musket ball weighing a bit more, but tonight they’ve got only half that weight of peas. They’ll kick a bit harder than usual, but they’ll also throw a great big muzzle flash.”

She began to smile. “And make a noise like a thunderclap?”

“I see you’re getting the idea.”

In the last of the light, Tad came over to join them. He was carrying a ball of thin twine and some old tin cans. “Ready?”

“Yes. Is that for what I think it’s for?” Walt asked.

“Yeah, it’s a warnin’ tripline. You used ’em afore?”

“Colonel Mosby’s people sometimes used ’em at night on the trails to some of their hiding places. I saw ’em do it when I carried messages to and from them. They’d run twine between bushes or branches, tie cans to it and put stones in the cans. Anyone stumblin’ around in the dark would disturb the twine and rattle the cans.”

“That’s right. We do the same thing, but in thick long grass like this it works even better. We tie the twine to clumps of it. If someone’s crawlin’ around on his belly, or his hands and knees, he’ll disturb the grass even if he don’t touch the tripline. That’ll make the cans rattle. When we hear the noise, we know where they’re comin’ from.”

“As long as it ain’t one of the soldiers from the fort or our escort, wanderin’ around.”

Tad shrugged. “If it is, he’s gonna learn real fast not to do that again! You pulled the buckshot outta your shotguns?”

“Five of them. I’m going to leave the buckshot in the last one, just in case.”

“Fair enough, but don’t mix it up with the others!”

“Nope, we just want to send them a message they’ll hear loud an’ clear.”

As soon as the light had faded completely, Tad went out to stretch the twine about ten yards from their wagons. At Walt’s request he took Samson and Elijah with him, to show them how to do it in case they needed to do so in future. They were back within fifteen minutes.

“It’s done,” Tad reported softly, accepting the plate of food Rose handed him. “Thanks, ma’am. I don’t expect ’em this early. I reckon they’ll wait another two, three hours until they’re sure we’re asleep.”

The time passed agonizingly slowly. Tom Jones came over to join them, but they didn’t dare sit around the fire and yarn. That would destroy their night vision, as well as alerting any intruders to their presence. They moved further into the center of the circled wagons, talking in soft, low voices, leaving one of their number to listen for any sound from the tin cans. They swapped the listening duty frequently to keep everyone sharp.

At last Tad said, “Must be about eleven now. If they’re comin’, it’ll be soon. Let’s get set.”

Walt handed shotguns to Tom Jones, Tad, Samson and Elijah, keeping one for himself. Rose had the sixth shotgun, with its lethal buckshot load, just in case she needed it. “We’ll space ourselves along our two wagons an’ listen carefully,” Walt told the others. “Tad, you know the prairie sounds better than any of us, so you give the word. As soon as you hear the stones rattle in those cans, or see movement, aim at it. Those with you will follow along and shoot with you. Samson will be with me behind the ambulance. We’ll wait to find out if there’s more than one of them. The muzzle blast from your shotguns should light up the area enough for us to see. If there’s more of ’em, we’ll fire at them.”

“Fair enough,” Tad acknowledged. “Tom, you warned everyone not to die o’ fright when the big bangs begin?”

“Yeah, I told ’em,” Jones replied. “I had a real problem persuadin’ ’em to stay by their wagons an’ look after their own teams. They all wanted to come and watch!”

Samson stood beside Walt in the darkness. It was useless to peer out into the pitch black, overcast, moonless night. Everything would depend upon their ears. They strained to hear, listening intently, but for almost half an hour the silence was broken only by the faint rustling of the long grass in the soft breeze.

Without warning, there came the rattle of stones in a tin can close to the other wagon. Walt and Samson nearly jumped clean out of their boots as two massive tongues of fire erupted from shotguns in the hands of Tad and Elijah, streaking out at least ten feet beyond the far side of the wagon. The double charges boomed like two young cannon. In the sudden cascade of light, Walt saw an Indian youth kneeling in the grass, his face contorted with shock and pain as he was peppered with dried peas.

There was a sudden movement to one side of the young Indian. Walt shouldered his gun and aimed at it. As the curtain of darkness fell abruptly once more, he pulled the trigger. Another huge fountain of fire vomited forth from his shotgun as it kicked hard against his shoulder, accompanied by a cry of pain from the dark shape in front of him. The Indian had jumped up and turned to run, and Walt’s charge must have struck him full in the buttocks. Even as the light from his shotgun faded, Samson fired at a third Indian, producing another bright flash, a third blood-curdling scream and the sound of rapidly running feet moving away as fast as possible into the safety of the night.

The horses and mules within the circle of wagons were plunging, braying, neighing and protesting their sudden awakening. Walt was just beginning to wonder why Tom Jones hadn’t fired when they all heard, through the ringing in their ears, the sound of the tin cans jangling again. The company owner’s shotgun went off with a monstrous bang. The muzzle blast illuminated an Indian charging towards them holding a knife, close enough that the flash almost seemed to wrap around him. The charge of peas struck him full in the face. They saw his hands start to rise towards his blinded eyes as the curtain of darkness fell once more. He moaned, and they heard his staggering footsteps rustling in the grass as he blundered away into the night.

“Should we go after him?” Walt called across to Tad.

“Stay put. You probably wouldn’t find him in the dark, but his friends might find you.”

They picked up their rifles and stood ready. Some of the teamsters around the circle of wagons did likewise, while others circulated among the animals to calm them down. There was no further sound or movement out in the darkness. After a while Tom Jones went round the wagons, advising the teamsters to stand guard in pairs. One could sleep while the other kept watch for a couple of hours, then they’d change places.

The light of dawn showed nothing where the figures had been the night before. Tad commented, as he came back into the circle of wagons after collecting his twine and the tin cans, “I didn’t expect to see any blood, but I thought the one Tom shot might have dropped his knife. No sign of it, though. Maybe one of his friends picked it up.”

“Most likely they had to pick him up, too,” Tom Jones said unsympathetically. “I doubt we’ll have any more trouble from them.”

“I think you’re right. Look over yonder. The Cheyenne camp’s gone. They left durin’ the night. It was prob’ly their youngsters who tried to raid us, so they wanted to be long gone in case we went lookin’ for ’em today.”