Land of the Free (15 page)

“Since we know they will be
coming from and returning to the east, it might also be possible to
position some musketeers outside our perimeter on the north, south
and west to catch the Indians in a cross fire.”

“Those men will be exposed
by their muzzle flashes after they fire their first volley,”
McGregor replied.

“Yes. So they should wait
until the Indians have gone completely around us once and are
withdrawing. One man should fire at a time, then he should lay flat
to reload.”

“Yes sir.” McGregor’s tone
of voice showed that he was not enthusiastic.

“Do you know why they ride
from our right to our left, Mr. McGregor?”

“Most are right handed,
sir.”

“Yes,” Yank agreed. “So to
attack the men outside the perimeter the Comanches will have to
break their moving formation, thus making themselves easy targets.
Or, they will have to shoot their arrows cross-armed. They must
guide their horses with knee pressure so the awkward position will
also confuse the animals.”

“Very well, sir. I’ll see to
it.”

Yank hugged Marina. “You’ve
provided some excellent intelligence, my dear wife.”

She looked up at him for a
moment then pulled away. “I’m surprised that you didn’t know all
that already.”

“The Indians in the east
don’t fight from horseback.”

“Why?”

“The rough terrain and
forests make horses impractical except on roads.”

“Oh.”

“When will they
come?”

“Not until the moon is above
the mist and bright enough to spoil our night vision.”

“Mr. McGregor?” Yank
called.

“Sir?”

“The Comanche will come with
the moon behind them. Remind our men not to look at the moon or it
will spoil their night vision.”

“Yes, sir. We’re stringin’
our trip ropes on the east side,” McGregor answered.

“The bulk of firepower is on
the other three quadrants,” another voice added. “We’ll move back
to the east side to cover their retreat.”

“Good lads,” Yank said.
“Thank you.” He looked at Marina. “I want you in the
center.”

“In the ditch?
No.”

“Worrying about you could
get me killed.”

“Your foolishness is not my
concern. If you don’t trust me with a musket, I can load for
others.”

He decided not to argue. “Go
draw a musket and cartridge box.”

“I have already.” She
pointed. “They’re under my duster.”

“This is going to be a
bloody night and could be distressing to a woman of your gentle
sensibilities.”

“Bugger you, John Van
Buskirk.”

~

The Comanche war-party
struck before midnight with the moon at their backs. They were met
with a withering musket volley. The survivors rode on into a second
volley. By the time they reached the trip ropes, only half
remained. As they began a second circuit, they were engaged by
muskets outside the perimeter and within a few seconds, only
rider-less-horses remained standing.

“No prisoners,” Yank
shouted. “If you cannot easily capture a horse, shoot
it.”

Marina sank to the ground
and let the musket slip from her hands.

“War is the suspension of
humanity,” Yank said to her as he watched his men moving through
the moonlight. “It takes some getting used to.”

“I’ve seen war before,” she
replied in a small voice. “This wasn’t war, it was slaughter. They
never had a chance.”

“A chance to kill us?” Yank
asked. “A chance to capture and torture us? A chance to rape you
and turn you into their slave? Did you really want me to give them
those chances?”

“You are a cruel man,” she
replied.

“With luck, the decisiveness
of this action and my cruelty will protect us through the rest of
our journey so that you never have to experience this
again.”

“Or this action brings the
entire Comanche nation down upon us.”

“The bands here are
separated by great distance and game is so sparse that the task is
impossible for an uncivilized people.”

“You seem to have a low
opinion of Indians.”

“I do indeed.”

“This is their land. You are
the invader.”

“Invader, am I? Or might I
be an explorer, as was your illustrious forefather?”

“Yes, you are very like my
forefather: The man who ended the Aztec culture.”

“The Aztecs were an evil
culture of human sacrifice and bestiality. The world is a better
place without them.”

“Who are you to judge?” She
jumped as a pistol went off nearby. “You are certainly not the man
I thought you were.”

“Nor are you the woman I
thought you were.” He walked away and soon vanished into the
darkness.

November 1, 1804

The Red River, Louisiana
Purchase

“Gunfire.” Marina pointed
toward the huge rock formation ahead of them.

Yank reined in his horse,
raised his hand to halt the column, then looked over his shoulder
and signaled McGregor who was riding at the rear of the
column.

McGregor trotted his horse
to join Yank and Marina. “What happened?”

“It sounds as if Roberts has
run into some trouble,” Yank said, pointing at the narrow opening
in the rocks where wisps of gun smoke were now visible.

“I didn’t hear it,” McGregor
said. “The grass bein’ so sparse, the animals are hungry and they
make an infernal racket.”

“There was a lot of
shooting,” Marina said nervously. “But now it’s
stopped.”

“It sounded like pistols,”
Yank said.

“Pistols?” McGregor looked
at Yank. “The riflemen ain’t carryin’ no pistols.”

“I know.”

“A lot of shooting,” Marina
repeated to accentuate the point. “Are we just going to sit
here?”

“Ridin’ into that little
slit in them rocks is just askin’ to get ambushed,” McGregor
said.

“Wait.” Yank pointed toward
the canyon where Roberts had appeared and was now racing toward the
column. “Defensive formation,” Yank shouted.

McGregor wheeled his horse
and rode back to organize the others.

“Roberts isn’t being
chased,” Yank shouted to McGregor.

Marina pointed. “I just saw
a man on horseback between those boulders.”

Yank aimed the telescope. “I
don’t see anyone.”

“He’s gone now. He saw us
and turned back.”

Yank lowered the telescope
as Roberts slid his horse to a stop, creating a huge cloud of
dust.

“Are you hit?” Yank
asked.

Roberts leaned forward and
vomited, shook his head and spit downwind.

“Your men?”

“All dead or captured,”
Roberts gasped.

“How many are still
alive?”

“Four but they’re shot up
real bad. Two is gut shot. Most of the dead was shot five or six
times. Lots of shootin’. Don’t know how they missed me. Might be a
miracle.”

Yank waved and shook his
head at McGregor who was forming a rescue party and beckoned to
him.

McGregor ran his horse
forward. “What?”

“Wait until we know more,”
Yank said, and then he looked back at Roberts. “Are they
Comanches?”

“No.” Roberts shook his
head. “Bandits, I reckon.”

“Indian bandits?” Yank
asked.

“I don’t know what they was,
exactly. Everything, I guess. Mexicans, white men and some
Indians.”

“Comancheros,” Marina
said.

“How many?” Yank asked,
ignoring her.

“Fifty-sixty. Maybe more,”
Roberts replied. “I seen smoke on the horizon like there might be a
camp up in them hills.”

“How were they
armed?”

“Pistols mostly. Some
muskets and I saw one rifle. But everybody had at least four
pistols. They come outta the rocks and before we knew it they was
amongst us, shootin’ off their pistols with both hands.” He shook
his head. “There was so much shootin’ and gun-smoke that I couldn’t
see nothin’ for a time. Finally, when the smoke cleared, and I saw
we was finished, I shot a Mexican that was between me and the way
back, then kicked for y’all.”

“I say we go get our men
dead and alive,” McGregor said.

Yank pushed his hat back and
rubbed his eyes. “Our chances of successfully attacking a force
that size in a fortified position are less than nil without some
very careful planning.”

“We can’t just leave ‘em
there,” McGregor said hotly.

“Those are my men,” Roberts
said before Yank could answer. “If there was a easy way to save
‘em, I wouldn’t of left ‘em.”

Yank looked toward the rock
formation from which Roberts had just ridden. It stretched from
horizon to horizon. “Did you see another pass through
this?”

Roberts shook his head.
“That little cut ain’t a pass, Colonel, just a trail through them
big boulders.”

“Are there
others?”

“I reckon so but I expect
they’ll be watched like this one was. They was waitin’ for us in
there. We was like fish in a barrel.”

“Describe that trail for me
please, Mr. Roberts,” Yank said, pointing.

“Sir?” Roberts looked
confused.

“If we have to go through
there,” Yank replied. “I’d like to know what the ground within the
rocks and the ground beyond them is like before we go.”

“Well, the trail winds
around between big ol’ boulders. I think it opens up onto ground
sorta like this, but we didn’t get that far and I can’t trust my
memory.”

“How wide are the narrowest
and widest points within the boulders?”

“We had to go in single
file. They was waitin’ for us where it widens out. Reckon that was
maybe fifty feet wide. From there it got narrow again before it
opened into the prairie.”

“We’ll camp here,” Yank said
decisively. “Then after dark I’ll take a few volunteers with me to
climb the rocks and scout our route.”

“I’ll go,” Roberts
said.

“Silence will be
imperative,” Yank replied. “Can you use a knife or
sword?”

“No sir. We didn’t have no
bayonets…”

“I know,” Yank
said.

“I can use a knife,” Marina
asserted.

Yank ignored her and looked
at McGregor. “Get those animals inside the perimeter.”

“I’ll see to it.” McGregor
clicked to his horse and shook out the reins.

“I can use a knife,” Marina
repeated as McGregor rode off.

“You will not be going with
me,” Yank said, watching the company making camp.

“Why not?” Marina
complained.

“We’ll talk about this
later.”

“No,” she replied heatedly.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go.”

“You’re not tough
enough.”

“I can outwork any man
here.”

“You’re not mentally tough
enough,” he amended.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re
punishing me for my criticism of the massacre.”

“Massacre,” he snarled.
“Damn you to hell, woman.” He whirled his horse and kicked it to a
run, leaving her alone with Roberts.

“Damn you,” she shouted at
his back.

“That weren’t fair, Ma’am,”
Roberts said. “It weren’t no massacre. It were a battle. And the
colonel won it without so much as one friendly casualty. Us men are
grateful to him for that. You should be too.”

“He ordered that the wounded
be killed.”

“Do you know what Indians do
to their wounded enemies, Ma’am? They burn ‘em in their fires, or
skin ‘em like rabbits or stake ‘em down to anthills. If we’d a left
anybody alive they would of seen it as weakness.”

She didn’t look at him or
reply.

“Them Indians attacked us,
we didn’t attack them. What we done was righteous.”

“Righteous?” Now Marina
turned toward Roberts. “We are on their land without invitation or
permission and we killed one of them simply because he demanded
payment for passage. Their attack on us was in reprisal for that
murder.”

“These here Indians didn’t
buy this land, Ma’am. They just took it from some weaker Indians.
Now we’re here and we’ll take it from them. Someday, I reckon,
somebody stronger will come and take it from us. That’s
nature.”

“We are not going to agree,
Mr. Roberts.”

“I can see that, Ma’am, and
it pains me that the colonel’s saddled his-self with a woman like
you.”

November 2, 1804

The Red River, Louisiana
Purchase

There was no moon and the
stars were hidden behind clouds, making the world beyond the camp
invisible.