Brimstone

45

WE SAT OUR HORSES on the other side of the ford and looked at the muddle of hoofprints that Pike and his posse had left. The pack mule took the opportunity to graze.

“Don’t make tracking the Indian so easy,” Virgil said.

“I find him,” Pony said.

“Pike will assume he’s running,” I said.

“Not running,” Pony said.

“He’ll shadow Pike,” Virgil said.

“If we’re right about him,” I said.

“So, we shadow Pike, we might come across him.”

“Might shadow us,” Pony said.

“He and Pike got a history,” Virgil said. “I ain’t saying he got no interest in us. But they got something between them.”

“Maybe get everybody,” Pony said.

“Might be his plan,” I said.

Virgil was looking at the tracks of twenty horses.

“Pike much of an Indian fighter, when you was with him?”

“Very good soldier,” Pony said. “Kill everybody.”

“And if Buffalo Calf wants to be tracked, Pike won’t have much trouble.”

“No track like me,” Pony said. “But can track. I teach him.”

“When you was soldiering, Everett, what you do with a troop of soldiers like this?”

“They’d be in squads,” I said. “Non com for each. I’d have scouts ahead, maybe some outriders to each flank.”

“Let’s follow along, see if he does that.”

“Think you can track them, Pony?”

“Little girl we save?” Pony said. “She could track them.”

“If we’re right,” Virgil said, “the Indian’s trying to lead Pike into a trap. Be better if we didn’t ride right into it behind them.”

“They rode out at sunup,” I said.

Virgil glanced at the sun.

“Got ’bout two hours on us,” he said.

He looked at the horizon in all directions.

“Land’s flat for a ways,” he said. “Don’t see no place he could hide and watch.”

“So Buffalo Calf has got to trust Pike to follow him,” I said, “until they get into country where Buffalo Calf can spy.”

“You know this country, Pony?” Virgil said.

“Some,” Pony said. “Northwest, maybe two days’ ride, country get rougher.”

“That where you’d go,” Virgil said, “you was gonna ambush somebody?”

“Yes,” Pony said.

Virgil looked at the sun again.

“We’ll follow them,” he said. “See if they turn that way.”

“And if they do?” I said.

“Maybe strike out on our own,” Virgil said.

He clucked to his horse. The mule heard him and pricked his ears forward and stopped grazing. We rode out after Pike, and the mule trotted on behind us. We all had.45 Winchesters, in the saddle boot, and we all wore.45 Colts. Made carrying cartridges easier. I had the eight-gauge. We all rode together. The mule could have followed Pike’s trail.

About midday we came to the place where they’d stopped and reorganized. We sat our horses while Pony rode around the area, looking at tracks.

“Okay,” Pony said. “He send scouts.”

He pointed out the tracks of two individual horses.

He rode around the area some more.

“Outriders,” he said, pointing.

“Okay,” I said. “He’s getting organized.”

“Good soldier,” Pony said. “Know how to fight.”

“Probably got them broken into squads now,” I said.

“No way to tell,” Pony said. “Horses all walk over each other tracks in troop.”

“He actually got twenty men?” Virgil said.

“Cannot tell,” Pony said. “Too many.”

“Let’s assume twenty,” I said. “He sent two scouts out front, and two flankers. Leaves sixteen. So he breaks the rest of them into three squads of five. And he makes sixteen.”

“All he needs is a damned guidon,” Virgil said.

“It’s the way he’s learned to fight,” I said.

“There’s enough of them to be stupid,” Virgil said.

“They figure Buffalo Calf won’t turn and fight them?” I said.

“Yep.”

“So they could ride right on into an ambush,” I said.

“Could,” Virgil said

“Maybe Buffalo Calf has some friends,” I said.

“None before,” Pony said.

“Any Comanche villages around?” Virgil said.

Pony shook his head.

“Mostly reservation Indians now,” Pony said.

“Don’t mean they always stay on the reservation,” Virgil said.

“Nope,” Pony said.

“You think he knows we’re out here?” I said to Pony.

“Probably think we with Pike,” Pony said. “Even mission-school Indian don’t understand white people much.”

“You understand white people?” I said.

“No,” Pony said.

His face was blank. I grinned at him.

“Well,” I said. “We ain’t typical, anyway.”

“Typical?” Pony said.

“Like everybody else,” I said.

“No,” Pony said. “You not like everybody.”