Buchanan's Seige (16 page)

"I still don't like the way he sets there, starin'." "Fret about that later." They walked on to the knoll.

Bradbury sat on the log. He saw the guard in the
woods. He surmised that Fox and Crane were discussing him. He was too weary to care at the moment. His spirits
fell to new lows with each hour. He heard the sound of an
approaching vehicle, which surprised him because the wag
ons were all at the scene of the battle now.

As the last rays of the sun flickered through the trees,
he saw the carriage, pulled by a matched team. Miguel
Carranza was driving. It was Bradbury's own equipage.

And seated beside Miguel was Consuela.

He cried out, "NO! Go back!"

The guard was coming from the trees. Miguel picked up
a double-barreled shotgun and jumped to the ground.
Consuela put a hand on the shoulder of her favorite driver
and
leaped lightly to earth. She went to her husband.

"Ah," she said. "You have not slept. You are weary."

"You got to get out of here. Dealer and Morgan,
hav
e gone loco. It's dangerous here for you."

"And for you?" She patted his cheek.

Miguel was walking toward the guard. He showed white
teeth
in the failing light. He said, "You want some buck
shot,
amigo?
No? Then keep your distance from my lady
and
the
senor."

The man said, "Hey, Mike, you know me, Sanders. I
go
t orders, is all."

""Keep your orders away from us," Miguel told him.

"
Hell, there's a hundred men up here'
ll
make you yell
and;."

"W
h
e
n they do, you may come closer. Until then?"

“O
kay, Mike. But I'm warnin' you."

Migu
el shrugged and took a position between the guard
and the
Bradburys. She was sitting on the log now, and his

hands
on her shoulder. There were tears on his face.
"
she
said, "The brave men talked in town. I sent Miguel
for
what he could. Then I knew I must come to you."

He
s
a
id, "It's too late."

"We could drive off. Who is to stop us?"

"They'd send for us. Make it look like an accident. You
got to go, Consuela. You can't stay here."

"So. We cannot escape. I see it. But I will not go."

"You got to, I tell you!"

She gestured. "Those women down there. Are they not with their husbands? Did you not ask them to leave?"

He nodded.

"In the town they know that, also. They talk. It will
never be comfortable for Dealer Fox nor Morgan Crane in
Buffalo again. If they had arms and a leader, I believe they would come here and fight."

"Is there a chance? ..."

"No. Your former friends have cleaned out the ammunition. There is no one to lead them. The telegraph wire is
down. They sent a rider, but it will be too late for him to
bring help. No, you are right. We will remain here."

"But not you!"

"Oh, yes, my dear. Me, Consuela." She fumbled in her dress, produced an ugly, short-barreled revolver. "Re
member this? You gave it to me to use, if needed, while you were away. It was long ago when we were young."

"I remember." He did, indeed. His mind, stretched by
the hours without sleep, by fasting because he was afraid
food would induce slumber, ran whirling back to those
days. His wife pregnant or caring for young children, him
self in a honky-tonk or a barroom or up against a car
d
table; yes, he remembered. She had never complained, s
he
had been a devoted mothe
r and wife. "You just can't fight
'em. There's too many. They got rifles. And now they g
o
t
booze."

"I know. They stole it from the hotel." She was utters
calm. "Miguel, the basket, please?"

Not taking his eyes from the guard, Miguel went to
carriage and brought a basket to them. She lifted a cle
white towel and displayed cold turkey and ham
canned peaches and a bottle of wine.

Now he was famished. With Miguel and Consu
el
a
standing guard on their part, he might eat and sleep
regain the resolution and intelligence he needed.

"Thanks, Consuela," he said humbly. "I guess I got to
get strength. I don't want to die. Maybe . . . maybe we can
work put something. If only Dealer and Morgan were their own selves . . . But they ain't. They're crazy to kill. It does things to men."

"They are fools."

He was reaching for the delicate viands. "Yes, they're
damn fools. But they got the guns. They got the men to
shoot 'em. It's a dead-end proposition."

"We're alive," she said. "Eat. Sip the wine. Then we'll
watch while you sleep."

She composed herself on the log. Miguel flashed her a
comforting grin. She adjusted the revolver in her ample
lap where it would be handy in case of need.

Out on the prairie, the stars began to twinkle in a sky
now clear. The hills lay northward, toward the town and
county of Sheridan. Beyond there was an encampment
of Crows, people of peace.

The tall mule carried double with ease. Raven's arms
were warm around the waist
of Dan Badger.

He said, "The raven is a talkin' bird, little daughter. But
you do not talk to me."

"I must think." They spoke in the Crow tongue.

He reined in the mule. They slid down to earth and
faced each other in the twilight.

He said, "I couldn't leave you there."

Now she switched to the proper English she had learned
e
the school. "They are so good to me. Even their religion
i
s
g
ood, much like our own. The Great Father . . . you
kno
w."

"I know some, not all."

"They have no children of their own."

" Tain't our problem. I don't want you there when the
end
comes."

"You believe it will be a bad end."

"It can't be much else, now, can it? Too many guns out
there.”

"
I
could be of help."

He said, "Child, you're my daughter, never forget. No
body knows but old Chief Chinook. Nobody knows how
they kilt her when she was comin' to me. Damn Black
foot."

"You have sent many of them over."

"I did, daughter. I did. But I stopped. Figgered I'd kilt
enough of 'em. Never did know if I got the right bunch."

"It is the Indian way."

"Yes. And now it is the Injun way to repay the Ko
vacs."

"Yes. You will stay."

"Won't be long now. You take the mule and go home."

"Will they accept me, father?"

"The old chief will accept you."

"Chinook."

" 'Tain't his Injun name, y' know. I give it to him durin'
a winter thaw when he saved the tribe by movin' 'em to
shelter before the change came."

"My grandfather?"

"Yes."

She said, "You have told me the way." She hesitated,
her emotions showing for the first time. "Pieter and Jenny. They are so good."

"Mighty fine folks." He shifted the Sharps rifle. "I'll do
what I kin."

"It will not be enough."

"Don't reckon so." There was no use to try and lie to
her, she was too direct, too intelligent.

"I will think of them."

"You do that."

He gave her a hand, and she pulled up her short ski
r
t| and settled into the saddle. She looked down at him.
know it was best you left me with them. Still..."

"No way for me t' settle down. I come out here when I
was a boy. I married the mountains afore I married yer
ma. We all did, them that came early. Shoot, honey, I wa
s
an agin' buck when you was born. I don't know how man
y
breeds I got on women before then. Don't fret on me."

"Those bad people that attack the Kovacs. I do not
like
to think of them and what will happen."

"A whole lot of 'em will come to Jesus afore it
h
appen," he told her. He patted the rifle. "It's a bright
night. I'll take a heap of 'em over."

"It is not enough."

"Don't fret, I say. Go home and learn the good ways
of Chinook. You're a Crow girl, y' hear me?"

"I am half white."

"It don't show a bit on you. Chinook won't give it a
thought. Grandchildren are special to Injuns."

"I remember."

"Then go. The fight'll begin anytime now. I got to
pay
for what the K
o
vacs did for us."

"I do not like it, father." She sat erect in the saddle,
staring at the stars.

He slapped the mule on the flank. "EEyaw, outa here," he roared. The big animal bolted, with the girl in the sad
dle bent to the task of controlling it.

Badger watched until he could no longer see them. Her
mother had been the last and the best of his wives. She
was the only offspring that he knew to be alive and well.

In those early days, the only way he could have sur
vived alone in the wilderness was to make friends with the
Indians. They had all done so, Beckwourth, Carson,
Bridger, Williams, all but Jed Smith, and he had met his
own
finish at the end of a lance, him and his Bible. Sometimes
even being married into a tribe didn't help, either, when
they got drunk on whatever was their local brew and went
berserk.

But old Chinook had sold the girl for a fine horse, ten
bl
ankets, a rifle, a Bowie knife, and a tin bathtub that one
of his wives used for cooking fat dog
—-and was well
pl
eased with the bargain. He was a good man, Chinook,
and he could fight if he had to. Now he was peaceable, the
arm
y had taken away his guns, and the people moved with
th
e seasons, not living their old life but not on a reserva
tion
either. The army was tolerant because of Chinook.
Ra
ven would adopt her Indian name and become one of t
h
em, which was right and proper, because look what was
h
appening to her foster parents, the Kovacs, in this world
of
t
he white man.

Badger walked. He had walked all over God's West in
h
is time. His stride was as natural as breathing and even
now, in his old age, he was tireless and swift. There was a duty to be carried out. The Kovacs might die, in spite of Buchanan and his smart thinking, but Badger would claim
many an eye for a tooth. His pouch was full of the bullets
he had poured and made into cartridges for the old
Sharps, and he knew how to use it better than anyone
alive. And when it came to the end and he had to get within range, there was the Green River knife and a short-handled, sharp tomahawk in his belt.

"EEyaw," he said and walked a little faster.

Jenny Kovacs sat on a bench in the big front room of her house and wept, the tears running down her broad
cheeks as Pieter tried ineffectually to wipe them away.
Amanda stood before her, seeking words of comfort. Wee
vil crouched at a window, silent, as was Coco at the long
table.

"Is gone," Jenny cried. "My house. Look at it! Now my
little girl, my baby."

Cactus and Sutter came from the bedroom. Sutter was
using a straight
backed chair for a crutch. Each wore a six-
gun, and each carried a rifle. Amanda backed warily
against the wall.

Unnoticed, Sonny Thorne stood transfixed in the closet,
preparing to go to the roof to join Buchanan and Trev
or
The Whelans were still in the barn standing guard.

Pieter looked at nothing. "Is so."

"I know what you mean," said Cactus softly. "Me an
d
Sutter, we been talkin'."

"There ain't no way," Sutter said. "There just ain't
no
way outa this."

"Is so," said Pieter Kovacs, his face stony.

"It's your house." Cactus brought his rifle around
bear upon Weevil. Sutter covered Coco. "You want
quit, you got the say."

"We can talk to 'em out there," Sutter said. "We kn
ow
them. They know us."

"If they want Buchanan . . . give 'em Buchanan,"
said
Cactus. "Give 'em the Whelans and Trevor and all. It ain't
our fight."

"You're crazy!" cried Amanda.

"Just lower your voice, lady," Cactus warned. "Any
body makes a big holler gets it right here and now. This
thing's gone far enough. No use to run
—but we can talk
terms to Bradbury and them."

"That's right," Sutter said. "We can get outa this."

Sonny Thorne suddenly started up the ladder. Cactus
heard him. In two moves, the cowboy was in the closet
and swinging the butt of his rifle.

Sonny fell without a sound. Cactus dragged him away
from the foot of the ladder and shoved him into a corner
of the room. Jenny and Pieter watched without emotion.
Amanda gasped. Coco made a move, then stopped. Wee
vil did not stir from his place by the window. A random
shot came flying in and thunked into a hanging mattress.

Cactus said, "Okay with you, Kovacs? We talk to 'em?"

Jenny answered for the two of them. "Talk. Bring back
my baby girl. Stop this killing."

Cactus said,
"Sure thing." He went into the closet and
called in a normal tone of voice, "Buchanan. Time to
switch, ain't it?"

"Comin' down. You and Thorne can handle it up here,"
Buchanan answered.

Now Cactus held the rifle steady, facing the ladder.
Amanda bit her lip. Sutter was watching them, rifle in
hand,
the other hand on his revolver. Coco leaned against
the
table. Weevil started to bring his rifle around, was
s
to
pped by a gesture from Sutter.

I
t
was Trevor who dropped lightly from the ladder.
Cactus stuck the muzzle of the rifle in his face. Trevor
du
cked and sprang into the room. He saw Sutter, saw the
situa
tion and cried out, "Buchanan, watch out!"

Setter fired a shot. Trevor went down. Amanda
screamed.

B
u
chanan landed on his feet, knees bent, revolver
drawn.

Cactus had his finger on the trigger of the rifle.
Bu
chanan said, "Pull... and you're dead."