Dead Man's Walk (54 page)

"There aren't many fires. But we have cannons and someday I will shoot them. When will we go back to our castle, Mamma?" "That depends on these gentlemen," Lady Carey said. "We'll discuss it as soon as they've finished their tea. It's very impolite to discuss business while one's guests are enjoying their food." "We can talk now, I guess," Call said.
"If you've a plan for leaving here, I'm for talking now." "Fine, there's nothing left but the cucumber sandwiches anyway," Lady Carey said. "I suppose cucumbers are not much valued in Texas, but we Scots have a fine appetite for them. Come help me, Willy, and you too, Mrs. Chubb. Let's finish off the sandwiches and plan our expedition." Call was enjoying the breads and muffins and fruit. Everything he put in his mouth was tasty, particularly the small, buttery ears of corn.
After the cold, dry trip they had made, across the prairies and the desert, it seemed a miracle that they had come through safe and were eating such food in the company of an English lady, her servants, and her little boy. He was startled, though, when she mentioned an expedition. The country around El Paso was as harsh as any he had seen. Five Rangers, four women, and a boy wouldn't stand much chance, not unless the Mexican army was planning to go with them.
"First, we need proper introductions," Lady Carey said. "I'm Lucinda Carey, this is Mrs. Chubb, this is Emerald, and this is Willy. You know our names, but we don't know yours. Could you tell us your names, please?" Gus immediately told the lady that his name was Augustus McCrae. He was determined that Long Bill Coleman not be the first to speak to the fine lady who had fed them such delicious food.
"Why, Willy, he's Scot, like us," Lady Carey said. "I expect we're cousins, twenty times removed, Mr.
McCrae." The news perked Gus up immediately. The other Rangers introduced themselves--Woodrow Call was last. Long Bill took it upon himself to introduce Brognoli, whose head was still swinging back and forth, regular as the ticking of the clock.
None of them knew how to behave to a lady--Long Bill attempted a little bow, but Lady Carey didn't appear to notice. She divided the cucumber sandwiches between herself, Mrs. Chubb, and Willy, who ate them avidly.
All the while Emerald, the tall Negress, stood watching, near the bed. The little dog had gone to sleep and was snoring loudly.
"Throw a pillow at him, Willy--why must we hear those snores?" Lady Carey said, when the last cucumber sandwich was gone. Willy immediately grabbed three pillows off a red settee and threw them at the sleeping dog, which whuffed, woke up, shook itself, and ran off the bed into Lady Carey's arms.
"This is George--he's a smelly beast," Lady Carey said. The little dog was frantically attempting to lick her, but the best he could do was lick her black gloves.
Call was watching the tall Negress, Emerald. She stood by the four-poster bed, keeping her eye on the company. She wasn't unfrly, but she wasn't familiar, either. She was wrapped in a long, blue cloak. Call wondered if she had a gun under the cloak, or at least a knife. He could see that she was protective of Lady Carey and the little boy; he would not have wanted to be the one who attacked them, not with Emerald there.
While he was sipping the last of his tea, he happened to look up and see the head of a large snake, raised over the canopy of the four-poster bed. In a second the snake's long body followed--it was far and away the largest snake Call had ever seen. He looked around the table, hoping to see a knife he could kill it with, but there was no knife, except the little one they had used to spread butter. He grabbed one of the little stools and was about to run over and try to smash the big snake with it when the Negress calmly stretched out a long black arm and let the big snake slide along it. All the Rangers gave a start, when they saw the snake slide onto Emerald's arm. Soon it was draped over her shoulders, its head stretching out toward the table where the tea had been.
"No cause for alarm, gentlemen," Lady Carey said. "That's Elphinstone--he's Willy's boa." "Only he's too big for me," Willy said. "Mamma and Emerald play with him now.
Mrs. Chubb doesn't care for snakes. She hides her eyes when Elphinstone eats his rats." Emerald walked over and handed the boa to Lady Carey, who let it slither over her lap and off under the table.
"I think he wants George," Lady Carey said. "Cake crumbs don't satisfy a boa, but I expect a smelly little beast such as George would be a treat." "But Mamma, he can't have George!" Willy insisted. "He finds quite a lot of rats --I shouldn't think he'd need to eat our dog." "Who knows what a boa needs, Willy?" Lady Carey said. "I'm afraid we've let all these beasts distract us. Willy and I want to go home, gentlemen, and the Mexican government has agreed to release us.
What they won't do is provide us with an escort, and we're rather a long way from a seaport." "I'll say," Long Bill said. "It's so far I wouldn't even know which one to head for." "Galveston is the most feasible, I believe," Lady Carey said. "I'd rather try for Galveston than Veracruz. If we travel through Mexico the greedy generals might decide they want more ransom--my father has already paid them a handsome sum. He didn't pay it for me, of course--father wouldn't waste a shilling on a leprous daughter. He paid it for the young viscount here. Willy's the one he needs--Willy's the heir." The Rangers listened silently to what Lady Carey said. Call looked at Gus, who looked at Long Bill. Brognoli continued to swing his head, and Wesley Buttons, who was a slow eater, was still consuming the last crumbs of one of the big scones with raisins in it. The others had accepted that the big snake was a pet, but Wesley didn't trust snakes, particularly not snakes that were longer than he was tall. This one had slithered off somewhere, but it could always slither back and take a bite out of him. He was careful to keep both feet on the rungs of his stool, and did not pay much attention to the talk of ransoms and seaports. He would go where the boys went--he was happy to let them decide.
"Ma'am, we'll be pleased to take you to Galveston," Call said. "If we can find the way. It's a far piece, though, and we've got no mounts and no gear. Our horses got stolen, and the Mexicans took our guns." "Fortunately, we aren't poor yet, we Careys," Lady Carey said. "I didn't expect you to walk across Texas barefoot, in leg irons. We have our own mounts, and we'll soon find some for you. You look like honest men-- I'll send you to town with enough gold to equip us properly. Don't skimp, either. Buy yourselves reliable weapons and warm clothes and trustworthy mounts. We have a tent large enough for ourselves and Miss Roberts--but I'm afraid you men will have to sleep out, if it's not too inconvenient." "We don't know how to sleep no way but out," Gus said. "If we can get some slickers and some blankets we'll be cozy, I guess." Just then, the snake emerged and began to glide up one of the bedposts. Soon it disappeared, back onto the canopy over the big bed. Wesley Buttons cautiously put his feet back on the ground.
"I expect it's a little too late to send you to town today," Lady Carey said. "Emerald, tell Manuel to get the irons off these men. I want them to get into town early tomorrow. I want to leave San Lazaro quickly--these greedy Mexicans might change their minds." "Come," Emerald said. "We've fixed a room for you. The mattresses are just corn shuck, but it will be more comfortable than the place the Mexicans put you." When they left the room, Willy had seated himself next to his mother and was helping her select from a bunch of storybooks, piled beside the low settee where Lady Carey sat. She raised her head to them, as they left the room, but all they could see were her veils.
"I wonder how bad she is, with the leprosy?" Gus asked, as the Texans were following Emerald along the balcony to their quarters.
"Wouldn't it be awful if she didn't have no nose?" "Yes, it would be awful, but I like her anyway," Call said. "She's going to get us out of here. I never supposed we'd be this lucky." Gus thought of the long miles they had to travel, over the dry, windy country, to get even as far back as the settlements around Austin. It was a long way, even to the mountains where Josh Corn and Zeke Moody had been killed. And if they got that far, they would be in the land of Buffalo Hump.
"We don't know yet if we're lucky," he said. "We got to go right across where that Comanche is." "It still beats being a prisoner and wearing these damn chains," Call said. part IV
Buffalo Hump caught Kirker, the scalp hunter, in a rocky gully just east of the Rio Pecos. Kirker had forty scalps with him at the time. Buffalo Hump judged the scalps to be mostly Mexican scalps, but he tortured Kirker to death anyway. The man had not been easy to take. He had managed to get in amid some rocks and delayed them a whole day, an annoying thing to the war chief. The Comanche moon was full--he wanted to follow the old trail, down into Mexico, and bring back captives, children they could use as slaves, or sell to the half-breed traders, in the trading place called the Sorrows, near the dripping springs where travelers on the llano stopped to rest and water their animals.
Buffalo Hump did not like having to slow his raid to catch one scalp hunter, a man so weak that he only killed Mexicans and rarely even attempted to take an Apache scalp, or a Comanche. At first he considered leaving three men, to hide and wait. When Kirker thought he was safe and came out of his hiding place in the rocks, the men could kill him and then follow the raiding party south. Kicking Wolf, though, protested so vigorously that Buffalo Hump gave in.
Kirker had killed two of Kicking Wolf's wives, and one of his sons; he had taken their scalps and sold them. Kicking Wolf was not a man who forgave or forgot; he wanted to take part in Kirker's death. The Comanche moon had only just turned full--they could easily sweep on into Mexico and take their captives.
Kicking Wolf even had an idea that would help drive Kirker out of his hole in the rocks, and he put it into practice at night, just before moonrise. He had his young warriors catch several snakes and tie their tails together so tightly that they couldn't rattle well. Of course the rattlers' heads had to be held down with a stick--they grew angry at the mistreatment they received. There were seven snakes in all.
Once the seven were bound together by their tails, a young brave named Fast Boy climbed up on the rocks above Kirker and threw the bundle of snakes down on top of him. Kirker screamed when the first snake bit him--when he screamed, revealing his position, Buffalo Hump himself jumped down on him and knocked his gun away before he could kill himself. Fortunately, the snake had only bitten Kirker in the leg; the wound would not kill him, or weaken him enough to spoil the torture. Even before they got Kirker back to camp, Kicking Wolf, who could not be restrained when he was angry, poked a sharp stick in Kirker's ear, destroying his eardrum and causing much blood to run out of his head. Kirker snarled and howled, like a tied wolf. He spat at the Comanches so many times that Buffalo Hump took a needle and a thread and sewed his lips together; after that he could not scream loudly, though he rolled and writhed and made gurgling sounds as he was being burnt and cut by Kicking Wolf, who insisted on doing most of the torturing himself. Some of the braves were in favor of saving Kirker; they wanted to send him back to the main camp, so the squaws could torture him. One squaw named Three Seed was better at torture than any man. She could bite off a man's fingers or toes as neatly as if she were merely biting a willow twig.
Buffalo Hump, though, was impatient. It was true that Kirker was a bad man who deserved to be tortured by the squaws, but the squaws were four days' ride to the north, and the raiders' business lay to the south. Kicking Wolf might not be as expert at torture as Three Seed, but he was good enough to make Kirker writhe and gurgle through a whole afternoon. He had been burned and cut and blinded when they took him to a small tree near the Pecos and tied him upside down. They built a small fire beneath his dangling head, and prepared to ride off; the greasewood would burn all night. Long before the sun rose, Kirker's head would be cooked.
Even so, when Buffalo Hump mounted and indicated that it was time to take advantage of the Comanche moon and get on with the serious business of the raid, Kicking Wolf refused to leave.
He was determined to enjoy Kirker's torture to the end. He jabbed a thorny stick into Kirker's other ear, and let blood from his head drip into the fire.
Buffalo Hump was irritated, but Kicking Wolf, as a warrior, could do as he pleased, up to a point. The man knew the way to Mexico as well as anyone. It was not likely that Kirker would last until the morning--Kicking Wolf would follow and catch up the next day.
Still, before he left, Buffalo Hump made sure Kicking Wolf knew he was expected in Mexico soon. Kicking Wolf was the best horse thief in the tribe, and also the best stealer of children. He moved without making any sound at all. Once or twice he had reached through a window and taken a child while its parents were right in the room, eating or quarreling. Buffalo Hump did not want Kicking Wolf lingering too long, just to torture one scalp hunter. The man was already too weak to respond strongly to torture, anyway. He only jerked a little, and made a weak sound behind his sewn lips when the flames touched his head.
Kicking Wolf paid little attention to Buffalo Hump and the other warriors, as they rode off to the south. He was glad the war chief was gone-- Buffalo Hump was a great fighter, but he was too impatient for the slow business of torture.
For the same reason, Buffalo Hump was not an especially good hunter--he often jumped too soon. Torture took patience, and Buffalo Hump didn't have it. Before the warriors were even out of sight, Kicking Wolf took a stick or two off the fire and touched them to Kirker here and there, causing the man to jerk like a speared fish. The jerking made Kicking Wolf happy. It was good to be rid of the impatient war chief, good to be alone to hurt the man who had scalped his wives and his little son. In a little while, he cut the bloody threads that Buffalo Hump had used to sew Kirker's lips together. Then he stoked the fire a little and grabbed Kirker by the hair, so he could hold the man's face right over the flames.
He wanted to hear the man scream.
After the first screams were over, Kicking Wolf scattered the fire a little and let Kirker's head hang down again. He got up and walked a short distance to a pile of rocks, carrying one of the burning sticks, to give him a little light. He wanted to find some little scorpions and put them on the white man. The scorpions would hurt him but would not kill him, and the torture could go on.