Fort Larned (6 page)

   "Don't worry. Sleep. I'm not going away."

   He dug into his saddle bags for the remnant of cloth he had used to bandage his arm. He soaked the cloth in the water. As he crouched at the bank, he looked across the river and smiled. He remembered wondering if he would even see another dawn just a few short hours before.

   "Let's see if we can't clean that wound a little, Mrs. Baker," he said softly.

   She smiled at him. "Oh no, Mr. Collier. I can take care of it."

   "Nonsense, ma'am. Relax. You've taken a pretty good jolt. I just want to try to clean this up a little and examine it."

   She raised herself into a sitting position. Collier tried to be as tender as possible as he wiped the blood from her neck and face. He allowed the water to soak and soften the blood matted through her hair.

   "Let's get closer to the bank. This is going to take some doing." He helped her to her feet and led her to the water's edge.

   She flinched and drew away. "Why don't you let me do this, Mr. Collier? It's pretty tender."

   "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

   "You're not hurting me. Quite the contrary, I'm not used to such tender treatment."

   "Neither am I, ma'am," Collier smiled, then felt awkward and foolish for saying it.

   "You're blushing," she said as she placed the cloth against her head.

   Collier smiled. "Yes, I suppose I am. I'm more used to horses than people."

   "Mr. Collier, you are doing just fine. I thank God that you're here with me."

   "I'm just glad you're alive. I feared the worst." He gently pulled her hand down and looked at the gash along the side of her head. "I'm going to have to try to bandage this. I can tell it's going to start bleeding again. You've taken a pretty sharp blow."

   "An Indian hit me with his hammer," she said.

   "War club. I've never seen an Injun with a hammer."

   "War club, a hammer, whatever it was. He tried his best to kill me with it."

   "What happened? How did you get separated from the rest?"

   "Indians attacked us. Nathan lost his head. He wouldn't listen to the sergeant. I tried to stop him and he knocked me into the back of the wagon. We went several miles before they hit us. When they attacked, Nathan turned for the river. They shot one of the mules. Nathan jumped down and cut it from the harness. They rode down on him. He tried to shoot his pistol then just threw it down and ran. I jumped down and got the pistol. I tried to shoot it at one of them but it was jammed. I couldn't get it to cock. An Indian rode up beside me and hit me with his club. I fell into the river. It hurt so badly. I couldn't see. I just let the water carry me away."

   "What happened to your husband?"

   "I don't know. I crawled into this gully and hid and was afraid to leave. I was sick and my head hurt so bad. I couldn't see clearly."

   "You did the only thing that you could do. It's a miracle you survived. I'll look for your husband when I'm through with you." Collier's expression turned cold and hard. "I would expect the worst."

   "I know. I realize that he's probably dead."

    He bandaged her head with a strip from her petticoat. He led her back into the gully and gave her some jerky from his saddle bags. "I shouldn't be long. You stay here and don't wonder about." He handed her his revolver. "Use this only if you have to."

   He turned and started the bank. She noticed the dried blood on his shirt. "You're hurt."

   "I'm fine. Just wait here. I won't be long."

   She waited, staring at the bank of the gully and the river. She thought of her husband screaming and babbling as he ran from the wagon. She remembered their wedding and of how different he was then. The two images of the same man sickened her. Why did he have to insist on coming out here? He was cruel, jealous, always unhappy but he didn't deserve this. No one did.

   She turned her thoughts to Collier. How could two men be so different? She thought of the way that he had touched her, nursed her, held her through the night. He was a tender man toward her and yet he seemed to thrive in this savage land. She thought of the fight with the three soldiers and his badgering of her husband. How could a man be so forceful with other men and soft toward her? He was everything that her husband was not. She thought of him as a lover. She thought to herself that such thoughts were sinful. She was a married woman and it was adultery to think such things. She thought of the time. How long had he been gone? Was he all right? Nell became uneasy . . . frightened. She heard a noise. She turned and watched toward the sound. Her hands trembled as she held the pistol.
"Please let it be Lane,"
she whispered. The sound came closer . . . grew louder. She waited.

   Collier stepped up to the bank and looked down at her. Her husband's pistol was in his hand.

   "Did you find him?" Her eyes searched his face.

   "Nothing," he lied, "I found nothing."

Collier was uneasy as he reloaded her husband's pistol. His actions were deft and yet she perceived a sense of urgency. He constantly turned his attention from the pistol to the surrounding area and reacted to small sounds that she barely heard.

   "This is quite a revolver. It's a late model .40 caliber LeMat. I've heard that the Confederates highly thought of them. Did your husband fight in the war?"

   "No. He bought it from a store keeper before we left Missouri."

   "The cap fell under the hammer and jammed it." He handed the huge revolver to her. "It should work fine now with fresh loads and new caps. Don't do anything without it."

   The large revolver was awkward and heavy. She didn't trust the weapon but it seemed important to Collier that she had it. She trusted him and intended to do exactly as he told her. "I won't."

   "It's a nine shot. If you have to use it, wait until they're close enough that you don't miss. Use it only as a last resort." He pointed to tube mounted underneath the barrel. "This thing also shoots a shot load. You need to flip the hammer notch down to get the weapon to fire the shot barrel. I'd be careful before doing that. It probably packs quite a punch."

   The LeMat seemed a mass of confusing levers and switches. She shook her head.

   He smiled and took the pistol from her. "No, I'm doing this backwards. Here! You take my Colt. It's simple and easier to handle. I'll take the LeMat."

   The smaller, trimmer Colt felt much better. At least she could hold it up without using both hands.

   Collier reached for her hand and held it firmly. "You must use it. Don't be afraid to use it if you have to."

   "Don't worry. I'm not afraid of it." She tried a weak smile as she looked into Collier's eyes.

   "It's a six shot. Count your shots. If you've fired five and all hope is gone, use it on yourself."

   "I understand what you are saying. I don't know if I could."

   "I know you don't want to hear this but they're capable of terrible things. Horrible cruelty. It's a miracle that you survived the attack. I want you to be aware of what could happen."

   "Would you?"

   "Would I what?"

   "Use the last shot that way."

   He looked into her eyes without blinking. "Yes, I would."

   "I understand. I'll use it however you think best."

   He held her hand and smiled. "We need to get going if you feel up to it. We have to get back to the others as soon as possible."

   Every bone in her body ached and her head was pounding. Even her hands seemed to hurt, but she was determined not to hold him back. "I'm ready. Let's go!" She rose to her feet and climbed the bank of the gully.

   He grabbed his bags and rifle, and started to help her with the climb. "Not too fast. We need to check things out a bit before we crawl out of this hole. We need to be certain of where we are going and how we're going to get there before we ever move from cover."

   Collier's respect for the woman was enormous. Her courage increased his own. He couldn't let onto her how concerned he was. He felt that he had to act in complete control and sure of his actions for her benefit. Nevertheless, Collier realized that he had never been in such a situation. He honestly didn't know what else to do except to try to find the others. Alone and on foot, they were helpless. He regretted having to mention the final bullet to her. She would not have to use it if he could do it for her. He realized that it might not be possible and that she should be prepared for the situation if something happened to him. He wondered what she would think of him if she knew his thoughts. He would kill her himself rather than allow the Cheyenne to take her. It would be the fifth shot. The final round was for himself.

***

The banks of the river were open along that section of the trail. Collier moved carefully. He used his glass often and worked his way from one depression to the next. Nell Baker wondered if he would be this cautious if she wasn't along. She felt sorry for him, seeing herself as a burden. The constant running from one point to the next, the dropping to the ground and the crawling exhausted her. She hurt and wondered how long she could keep the pace. She strained to hide the pain.

   They found the caravan around noon. Burned wagons and naked, mutilated bodies were scattered about as a child would scatter toys. She sat on the ground and wept. Collier stared at the body of the man closest to him trying to recognize who it might be. He wanted to scream or curse. He wanted to weep. He wanted to run but could do nothing. His mind reeled at the horror and savagery. He felt paralyzed by his hatred and fear. He walked slowly through the carnage. He saw a canteen and picked it up. He looked at the first wagon. It was still too hot to approach. He could find no useful food or weapons. He came upon a soldier's hat and gave it to her explaining that she needed the protection from the sun.

   She spoke so softly that he could barely hear her. "What do we do? It's so awful. What do we do?".

   Collier helped her to her feet. "We go on. We walk away from it and we go on."

   She watched him fill the canteens in the river. She felt a fly land on her cheek and quickly brushed it away. She couldn't stand one on her face. She could only think of the bloated bodies and the flies.

   "There is a small ranch about thirty miles due north," he said. "A family named Fox lives there. She's a fine woman. You'll like her."

   "Who?"

   "Mrs. Fox. She lives on a small place about thirty miles north of here."

   "Thirty miles? Shouldn't we stay with the river?"

   "I'm afraid of staying near the trail. I think that we should strike out cross country and get away from the river. The war party will follow the trail looking for others. By going north we can avoid them."

   She nodded. "You know best. I'll go." She was on the verge of tears.

   He knew she was exhausted. He held her against him, her head resting against his chest. "I know how terrible this is for you. We must have courage. We can make it if we keep our heads, move by night, and lay up during the day."

   She choked back the tears. As tough as it was she wanted to live and she would not hold him back. She nodded and took a canteen. "Let's get out of here. I don't want to see any more."

   "There are some hills a few miles north. We'll rest there," he said as he started away. "We should be there by dark if we start now." He led her north away from the river, out onto the prairie.

They slept on bare ground that night without a fire. Jerky from Collier's saddle bags made up their meal. They had walked until dark then stopped and simply lay down. She was drained and fell asleep immediately.

She awoke to Collier's hand gently shaking her.

   "We've got to move!" He whispered.

   It took a moment to get her bearings.

   "Buffalo! They moved in during the night. We've got to be very quiet."

   She saw dark forms moving toward them. "What do we do?"

   He pointed northwest. "We make for that high hill. If they stampede toward us, they'll stomp us into dust!"

   She reached for her hat and pistol. She had barely seized them when she felt Collier tugging at her. Nell gazed at the buffalo in amazement. The great lumbering beasts reached to the horizon to the south. Many were six feet at the shoulders. A musky odor filled the air. She had heard stories of the bison but nothing could have prepared her for the experience of seeing them. It was as though the land was moving as the great herd grazed its way toward her.

   "How many of them are there?" She asked.

   "There are millions of them. Whether we like it or not, they rule this country."

   They moved to the protection of the hill as quickly and as quietly as possible. Collier told her to move in a straight line and not to make any unnecessary movements. When they reached the summit, Collier had her lie down.

   "What do we do now?"

   Collier reclined on the ground beside her and aimed his rifle. "We eat."

   A large cow was in the forefront of the herd no more than a hundred yards away. Nell watched the buffalo graze as Collier took aim. He fired and she saw a cloud of dust drift from the cow's shoulder. The cow did not move. If it hadn't been for the dust, Nell would have suspected a miss. The cow coughed blood from her nose and mouth.

   "Perfect shot," Collier whispered.

   The cow took a faltering step then seemed to go stiff-legged. She took a couple of jarring steps as if she couldn't get her legs under control. She fell on her side, her feet flailing in the dirt.