Rampage of the Mountain Man

Chapter Seventeen

It had been five days since they came through the snow and were again on dry ground. In fact, as far as Andy was concerned, it was too dry. The reason for that was that he was riding drag and eating the dust kicked up by the herd.

It was because he was riding drag that he was the first to see the Indians. He wasn’t sure he actually saw them because it was only a slight movement, a shadow within a shadow that caught his eye. He dismounted and pretended to be working on his saddle while actually looking behind him.

There! He saw it again, and this time there was no question. Three Indians, riding in line, moved through a cut in the ridge. They were bending low over their horses, obviously trying to remain unseen.

Andy remounted, then rode, not at a gallop but at a quick pace, until he caught up with Smoke.

“Smoke, there’s some Indians on our tail,” he said.

“How many?”

“I don’t know,” Andy said. “But they are trying their damn’dest to stay out of sight, so I know that they are up to no good.”

Smoke stroked his chin and looked out over the herd. “Andy, do you think you can get to the other side of the herd without letting the Indians know that you are on to them?”

“Yeah,” Andy said. “I think so.”

“All right, you get over there, tell Billy, Mike, and the Butrum boys that, at my signal, I want them to get the herd moving as fast as we can. The river’s not more than a mile ahead and Sally is already set up there. If we can get the herd across, we’ll make our stand there.”

“Right,” Andy said as he started around the herd.

“Pearlie!” Smoke called.

Pearlie turned his horse and rode back to see what Smoke wanted.

“Andy has spotted some Indians behind us. We’re going to try and get the herd across the river, then turn to face them. Send Cal on up to be with Sally. Have them pick out some defensive positions for us, then help the others drive the herd.”

“Smoke, isn’t there a chance of spookin’ the cows into a stampede if we try and hurry them now?”

“I don’t think so. They’re tired and they’re headed toward water. I don’t think they’ll scatter. And I know this area. Once they get on the other side, there’s no way they can go except the way we want them to go. Hell, I hope they do run, it’ll keep ’em out of the line of fire. Now, get goin’.”

“Right,” Pearlie replied.

Smoke watched Pearlie ride back up to deliver his message to Cal. He saw Cal ride off at a rapid clip, and not until Cal was at least half a mile away did he raise his pistol and fire.

“Let’s go!” he shouted. “Move ’em out! Move ’em out!”

The cattle started forward at a gallop with the cowboys on both sides urging them on with whoops and shouts and waving their hats.

“Here, cows, run!” Smoke heard Billy calling. “Run, cows, run!”

Smoke rode to the rear of the herd, pulled his rifle, then looked back. The Indians, realizing then that they had been seen, gave up all pretense of trying to keep out of sight. They started after the cattle.

Smoke sighted on one of the Indians and squeezed the trigger. The Indian grabbed his chest, then fell from his galloping pony. That caused the other Indians to pull up for a moment. It was a moment only, but that gave Smoke the chance to turn and catch up with the herd.

By now the leading animals of the herd were crossing the river, their hooves churning up water ahead of the onrushing cattle behind them.

“Pearlie, you and Andy grab your rifles,” Smoke said. He pointed to the neck of a small island that faced the western bank of the river, the direction from which they had just come.

“See if the two of you can squirm down through the tall grass. Take a position as near to the point as you can get, and do as much damage as you can when the Indians start across the water.”

“Right!” Pearlie called back. “Andy, let’s go!”

“The rest of you,” Smoke ordered. “Find yourselves a good spot and get ready.”

As the men got on their knees and began looking around for a rock or hill or tree log to provide them with cover and concealment, Smoke walked back to the chuck wagon, where he saw Sally making herself a firing position from behind one of the wheels.

“Sally, you’re on your own,” Smoke said. “When the shooting starts, I’m going to be moving around.”

“You do what you have to do, Smoke,” Sally replied. “I’ve got a good position here. I’ll be all right and, I suspect, I might even get off a shot or two.”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Smoke laughed. “You might get off a shot or two, huh?” he said. He knew that, next to him, Sally was probably the best shot there. And he knew that nobody had more courage. “Just make sure you know who you are shooting.”

“Any more snide remarks like that, Smoke Jensen, and you’ll be my target,” Sally quipped.

Smoke kissed her, and they held the kiss a moment longer than they normally would have.

“You be careful with all your moving around,” Sally said as Smoke took his leave of her.

Smoke hurried back to see how the others were positioned, and where they were deployed.

“All right, now remember, Pearlie and Andy will shoot first!” Smoke said. “So don’t be spooked into shooting when you hear them. I want you to hold your fire until the last possible moment. Then make your shots count!”

“Smoke, here they are! I can hear ’em coming!” Jules said nervously. His announcement wasn’t necessary, however, for by then everyone could hear them. Above the drumming of the hoofbeats came the cries of the warriors themselves, yipping and barking and screaming at the top of their lungs.

The Indians crested the bluff just before the river; then, without a pause, they rushed down the hill toward the water, their horses sounding like thunder.

“Remember, hold your fire until the last possible moment,” Smoke shouted to the others. “In fact, hold your fire until I give you the word!”

The Indians stopped just at the water’s edge, then holding their rifles over their heads, began shouting guttural challenges to the men who were dug in on the island.

“Hu ihpeya wicayapo!”

“Huka!”

“Huka hey!”

“They’re working up their courage,” Smoke said. “Check your rifles, make sure you have a shell in the chamber.”

The men opened the breaches and checked the chambers, then closed them and prepared for the attack.

The Indians rushed into the water, riding hard across the fifty-yard-wide shallows, whooping, hollering, and gesturing with rifles and lances. Then two of warriors pulled ahead of the others, and when they were halfway across the water, Smoke heard two distinct shots from the point of the island. The two warriors in front went down.

The remaining Indians crossed the river, then started up the sandy point.

“Fire!” Smoke shouted.

Smoke, Sally, Billy, Mike, Hank, LeRoy, and Jules fired as one. Four of the Indians went down, not because a couple of them had missed, but because a couple of them had fired at the same target. The devastating volley was effective, for the warriors who survived swerved to the right and left, riding by, rather than over, the cowboys’ positions.

The Indians regrouped on the east bank of the river.

“Turn around!” Smoke yelled. “They’ll be coming from behind us this time!”

The cowboys had just barely managed to switch positions when the Indians turned and rode back in a second charge. They were met with another volley, this one as crushing as the first had been. Again, a significant number of the Indians in the middle of the charge went down.

The Cheyenne pulled back to the west bank of the river to regroup, watched anxiously by the men on the island. By now the river was strewn with dead Indians. There were at least eight or ten of them, lying facedown in the shallow water as the current parted around them.

“Anyone hit?” Smoke called.

“Yeah, I been hit,” LeRoy called back, his voice strained. “How bad is it?” Smoke asked.

“I—I reckon it’s killed me,” LeRoy said, his voice growing weaker.

“LeRoy!” Hank called, moving quickly to his brother’s side.

“Hang on, LeRoy,” Smoke said. “We’re going to get out of here. We’ll be having drinks in a saloon in a few days, telling tall tales about this fight.”

“You fellas have a drink to me,” LeRoy said.

“LeRoy! LeRoy!” Hank called anxiously.

“How is he?” Smoke called.

“He’s dead,” Hank said in a tone that reflected both his shock and his sorrow. “I can’t believe this. My brother is dead.”

“I’m sorry, Hank. He was a good man.” Smoke looked at all who had gathered around him. “You are all good men,” he said.

“Smoke, what about Pearlie and Andy?” Cal asked. “You think they are all right?”

“Good question. I’d better go get them.”

“Why don’t you just call ’em in?” Billy asked.

“No, I can’t do that. If the Indians hear us, that will make Pearlie and Andy easy targets. I’ll go get them. Cal, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”

“Right,” Cal replied.

Smoke worked his way down through the tall grass until he reached the point. Looking up, he saw both Pearlie and Andy behind tall clumps of grass, just on the other side of an open sandbar.

“Pearlie, you and Andy all right?” Smoke called to them, just loudly enough to be heard.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Pearlie replied.

“Come on back with the rest of us now,” Smoke said. “We’ve lost whatever advantage we had by having you out here.”

“All right,” Pearlie said. “Andy, you go first, I’ll cover you.”

Nodding, Andy bent over at the waist and darted across the open bar of sand until he reached the tall grass.

“All right, Pearlie, it’s your turn,” Andy called back.

Duplicating Andy, Pearlie darted across the sandbar, then dived into the grass alongside Smoke and Andy.

“Anyone hit back there?” Pearlie asked.

“Yeah. LeRoy was killed,” Smoke said grimly.

“Damn.”

“Come on, let’s get back.”

The three men wriggled through the grass on their bellies until the reached a slight depression that allowed them to stand up. Once up, they were able to move quickly until they were back with the others.

“You think they’re going to come back?” Mike asked.

Smoke shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I wish I could see them well enough to know what is going on.”

“I have a pair of army binoculars,” Andy offered. “Would that help?”

“It might,” Smoke said. “Let me see them.”

Andy hurried back to where the horses were tied. He fished the binoculars from his saddlebag, then took them back and handed them to Smoke.

“These are good-looking glasses,” Smoke said.

“Yeah,” Andy replied. He smiled. “I took them from Sergeant Caviness.”

“Good,” Mike said. “I hope the son of a bitch had to pay the army for them.”

The others laughed.

Smoke raised the binoculars to look across the water. He saw one Indian who was obviously in charge, riding back and forth in front of the others, holding a rifle over his head and shouting.

“Somebody seems to be stirring them up,” Smoke said.

“May I take a look?” Andy asked.

“Sure, they’re your glasses,” Smoke said, handing the binoculars to the former soldier.

Andy lifted the binoculars to study the Indians. “I’ll be damned,” he said.

“What is it?”

“It’s Walking Bear,” Andy said.

“Who?”

“Walking Bear,” Andy said, lowering his glasses.

“You know him, Andy?” Billy asked.

Andy shook his head. “Can’t say as I know him exactly,” he replied. “But he’s been givin’ the army some trouble for a long time now. He was part of Red Eagle’s camp, but when Red Eagle went to reservation, Walking Bear took a lot of warriors with him and left. The army’s been after him ever since then, but he’s been like a ghost. No one’s been able to find him.”

“Looks like we just did,” Smoke said.

“Yes, sir, it does at that,” Andy said.

“How bad is this Walking Bear fella?” Mike asked.

“Pretty bad. Just before I got out of the army, Walking Bear attacked a platoon of soldiers that was escortin’ a supply wagon. He kilt ever’ soldier in that platoon.”

“Are you sure this is Walking Bear?” Smoke asked.

Andy nodded. “Oh, yeah, I’m sure,” he said.

“Sally,” Smoke called. “Come here for a moment, would you?”

Sally walked over to where Smoke and Andy were standing. Smoke took the binoculars from Andy and handed them to Sally.

“Take a look at the Indian in front,” Smoke said. “The one riding back and forth, yelling at the others. Do you see him?”

Sally held the binoculars to her eyes for a moment.

“I see him,” she said.

“Next time they come after us, shoot him. Take your time, get a good shot. But you need to kill him.”

“All right,” Sally answered. She handed the glasses back to Andy.

“Whoa, hold it,” Hank said. “You’re giving that job to her?”

“Yes.”

“But she’s a woman.”

Pearlie and Cal laughed.

“What is it?” Hank asked.

“She may be a woman but when it comes to shootin’,” said Pearlie, “’bout the only one here better’n she is with a rifle would be Smoke his ownself. And I’m not all that sure he’s better.”

“Smoke,” Andy said, lowering the binoculars. “Looks like ole’ Walkin’ Bear’s got ’em worked up into comin’ again.”

“All right, everyone, get ready! They’re coming back!” Smoke warned.

Looking around, he saw that Sally had repositioned herself. No longer behind the wagon wheel, she was now behind a fallen tree, resting the barrel of her rifle on the log. She thumbed back the hammer, then sighted down the barrel.

With Walking Bear in the lead, the Cheyenne started another attack.

The Indians came again, their horses leaping over the bodies of the warriors and horses who had fallen before. Sally waited for a good shot, but Walking Bear was bending low over his horse in such a way as to keep behind his horse. It was difficult for Sally to get a good sight picture, and the first time she fired, she missed.

Quickly, she jacked another shell into the chamber and waited for another opportunity.

For some unknown reason, Walking Bear sat upright for just a second, and that gave Sally the opening she was looking for. She squeezed the trigger and her bullet hit Walking Bear right in the middle of his chest. She saw the look of surprise on his face; then she saw him drop his rifle and clasp his hand over his wound. He weaved back and forth for just a second before tumbling from the saddle.

When the others saw their leader go down, they stopped and milled about for a moment, uncertain as to what they should do. One or two started forward, but it wasn’t a concerted charge and, like Walking Bear before them, they were shot down.

By now well over half their party lay dead on both banks of the river, in the water, and on the sandy beaches of the island. They had started the fight with the numerical advantage, but realized now that they were outnumbered.

One of the Indians turned and started riding away. Almost instantly, the others followed.

“Run! Run, you cowards!” Andy shouted, shooting at them as they fled.

The other cowboys began shooting as well, making certain to give the Indians a good send-off. Then, they began laughing and congratulating each other on the good fight.

“If you want to know who gets the most congratulatin’, it should be Miz Sally,” Andy said. “When she took ole Walkin’ Bear down, she took the fight right out of ’em.”

“Let’s hear it for Miz Sally!” Billy shouted.

“Hurrah! Hurrah!” the others called.

With all the laughing and self-congratulations, the men forgot all about Hank, until Sally spoke up. She saw him over by his brother’s body, hanging his head in sorrow.

“Hank,” she said. “We want you to know how sorry we are about LeRoy. He was a good man.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hank said.