Return to Massacre Mesa - Edge Series 5 (32 page)

‘I tell you something, White Eyes!’ Rose Bigheart muttered bitterly as she stepped wearily into the open and advanced on the two men and the boy. There was a deep sadness inscribed into her homely features as she surveyed the slumped corpses and she constantly swept her melancholy gaze back and forth as she continued to berate Conners. ‘You had better purge yourself of that kind of poisonous hatred, mister. It’s the same kind of venom that Mountain Lion carried in his heart and he infected his braves with it: a foul hatred for all White Eyes, so powerful that it left no room for reason to enter their minds. The same kind of hatred you harbour in your heart for the Comanche!’

Edge finally got to light the cigarette he had rolled so long ago, while Conners seemed primed to direct an obscene tirade at the squaw. But then he shuddered and could only groan as a wave of pain hit him and he clasped both hands to the bullet hole in his chest.

Rose pressed on: ‘And such a festering hatred was sure to destroy them all in the

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end. And here at Mesa Desolado - where it had its evil beginnings - that destruction has come to pass.’ She crossed herself and a stretched second later the grimacing Conners found his shrieking voice.

‘You can go to hell, you old hag! Along with this cross-eyed brat and the rest of your stinking people! You, too, Edge! You’ve admitted you’ve got something of the half-breed in you and I reckon it ain’t greaser, like you make out! There’s got to be some Injun blood in your veins, the way you think the sun shines outta the stinking ass of every last one of them savages!’

Edge grimaced and tossed away the old and crumpled, hard to draw on cigarette and strode purposefully toward the enraged man: in his attitude the look of somebody as unreasoning as the squaw had accused Mountain Lion and Conners of being. A man it would be impossible to dissuaded from doing whatever was firmly fixed in his mind to do

‘But he is not armed and he is wounded!’ Crooked Eye implored as Edge came to a halt immediately in front of the kneeling man: who peered up with trembling terror at the solidly built figure towering threateningly over him. Conners gulped, pushed out his splayed hands and croaked: ‘Look, I didn’t mean to – ‘

Rose Bigheart pronounced: ‘Mister, with what possesses him he will be better off dead than alive. So one White Eyes will be doing another a favour?’

Edge sighed, shook his head to signal exasperation and said evenly: ‘It seems to me there’s some food for thought in what the lady says, feller. And I figure whatever’s eating you is something pretty damn substantial.’

‘Look, I was gonna say I’m – ‘

Edge pressed on: ‘And that kind of reminds me of how hungry I am. So if you’ve got any more speeches to deliver, I’d be obliged if you’d make them the after dinner kind.’

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CHAPTER • 21

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PROGRESS ACROSS the corpse and carcass littered, blood splattered, fly
infested battlefield to the cavalry encampment was an onerous trek. The shuffling pace set by Chester Conners who became weaker by the moment from further seeping blood loss, the remembered horror of his capture by the Comanche and the terrors he endured as a prisoner. It was not out of any remorseful feeling of sympathy for him that Edge assisted the injured man over the short but painful journey. Instead, he had seen there were many discarded weapons scattered across the ground and he did not trust Conners to be able to curb his avowed intention to kill any Comanche however he could.

Rose Bigheart and Crooked Eye stayed close by the two men struggling to keep their feet. Choosing to listen to Conners’ cursing account of his capture and illtreatment by the Indians rather than make their own way toward the bivouac. And run the risk that some of the troopers were of the same mind as the wounded man: and were not yet as sickened by wanton killing as one of the men in the execution detail had claimed to be.

‘It seemed like I was doing real good at first.’ Conners teeth were gritted against pain as he appeared to lean as much of his weight on Edge as he thought he could get away with without being dumped unceremoniously on the ground by his tacitly reluctant helper. ‘I was making fast time and figured for sure that all the lousy Injuns were way in back of me to the east - tracking you people. So it seemed to me like I had a clear run to where the army was.’

Edge murmured reflectively: ‘I guess after they’d trailed us for awhile and showed themselves every now and then and figured they’d spook us into heading west they reckoned they’d done what they wanted to.’

Conners coughed, spat and cursed. ‘I don’t know what was in their twisted minds. But what I do know is that a bunch of the bastards jumped me in a defile. Bounced me off the horse and beat the crap out of me. Thought for sure that I was a 224

goner – set to finish up like the last poor sonofabitch who rode that gelding. Then I woke up back there.’ He gestured with a backward jerk of his head toward the area where the ill-fated Comanche attack had been launched. ‘And an ugly bastard of a savage was squatting down facing me, fooling around with a knife and looking like he’d really enjoy cutting pieces off me with it.’

Crooked Eye started to hiss soft words in his native language and Rose interrupted him sharply in a tone that made the gist of what the boy had said easy to translate in broad terms. That he felt much the same way about Conners as had the white man’s knife-wielding captor.

Conners cursed both of them and pressed on: ‘All frigging night and into this morning I had to just sit there, damnit! Then two more of the painted bastards showed up from nowhere and I was cut loose.’ He stumbled and would have fallen had Edge not strengthened his hold on the man. ‘One of them knew how to talk English pretty good and he told me to take off and which way to go to where the army was camped. I didn’t trust any of them but I didn’t need no second frigging telling. I high tailed it out of there like I was half the age I am. Then soon as I saw the army and they saw me, all frigging hell broke loose.’

‘So you were told the truth about where the soldiers were!’ Crooked Eye challenged acidly.

The squaw again berated the young brave in the Comanche language and Conners ignored them both as he went on: ‘The frigging shooting started up and the lousy bullet took me in the chest. And I knew if I didn’t go down and stay down my life wasn’t worth a cent. And it sure wouldn’t have been after the army opened up with the Gatling guns. All that lead aimed right at me, it seemed like.’

Edge had already speculated on the part Conners was forced to play in the Comanche plan so he was only half listening to the grimacing, staggering man he was supporting as he watched two troopers trotting away from the camp, carrying a litter between them. Rose and Crooked Eye had also begun to pay more attention to the litter bearers, so that only the wounded man was startled when the pair appeared in 225

front of him. Then he submitted with groaning relief to being stretchered toward a small cluster of tents below the mesa while Edge and the two Comanche quickened their pace. Unencumbered by Conners and encouraged by the sight of a freshly lit fire that sent up a column of grey smoke, the acrid taint of which masked the aromas of whatever was cooking in the large pot hung from a tripod above the flames, Edge set a much quicker pace.

Lucy Russell, Dingle and Slade were hunkered down a few feet from the fire that was tended by two dour faced veteran non-coms and it was obvious all three civilians had drunk their fill from the canteens they held. Lucy and Dingle readily handed theirs to the squaw and Edge but the scowling Slade was reluctant to surrender his to the boy.

As water was sucked gratefully into three more parched throats Lucy explained that Tree and Goodrich were in the bell tent of Major Stanley Ebsen who was the commander of the troop. The men granted this privilege because as well as being respected Lakewood citizens they were also sheriff’s deputies and were trusted to give an accurate account of how a bunch of civilians including two friendly Comanche had shown up in the middle of a battle with hostile Indians. Just Zane Slade and Rose Bigheart – who seemed to find it difficult to take her eyes off the old timer - continued to express tense dissatisfaction while the other three patently relished this chance to rest and enjoy their first taste of water in a long time. This as they watched with growing eagerness the stone faced sergeant and the corporal coming and going from the cookhouse tent in back of the fire: bringing more ingredients to add to the steaming, good smelling contents of the pot.

When Lucy Russell’s explanation ended, Dingle asked of Edge: ‘Chester’s going to be okay, isn’t he? After he shifted his attention away from where Conners was being taken into another large bell tent at the rear of the bivouac area, Dingle’s sunken blue eyes seemed to hold genuine concern for his gunshot partner. While she continued to eye Slade with intrigued suspicion Rose Bigheart said earnestly: ‘I think that the bullet in that man’s flesh is less harmful to him than the hatred that gnaws at his mind, mister.’

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Dingle countered grimly: ‘The way your people drove him like a scared rabbit in front of them when they broke cover I reckon he has good cause to feel as bad as he does!’

‘Yeah, we could see every damn thing that was happening from up there on the high bluff!’ Slade exclaimed excitedly and it was plain he was oblivious to how the squaw was showing so much surreptitious interest in him.

‘These here army boys sure as hell sprung a dandy surprise on them Injuns: way them guys with the Gatlings just jerked wide the wagon doors and opened up with their guns.
Ratter-ratter-tat! Ratter-ratter-tat!
Knocked them hollering redskins off their ponies easy as shooting fish in a barrel!’ He seemed only just able to hold back from clapping his hands like an over-excited child as he vividly recalled the one-sided carnage that had given him so much pleasure.

Dingle said absently: ‘I saw poor old Chester go down like a felled pine and I figured he was dead for sure. Didn’t see whether he was winged by the army or if he took the shot from behind but –

Edge broke in: ‘Unless he was running backwards, feller he was shot by the army.’

Dingle nodded, spat and sent another brief glance toward the hospital tent into which Conners had been taken.

‘Best thing to happen to him,’ Slade said sagely. ‘If he hadn’t gone down the way he did, hurt on not, he’d have been blasted to Kingdom Come by one of them Gatlings, I’d say: and have met his maker by now and no mistake. Wasn’t anybody that was left standing that could’ve survived that kind of gunfire. It’s the first time I ever did see that. By God, what are they gonna dream up next to fight wars with?’

‘Perhaps they will think of something that will stop people from fighting wars,’

Rose Bigheart murmured forlornly.

She glowered at Slade as the stirred up man was gripped by a fit of uncontrolled giggling, then suddenly lost interest in him and reverted to being as morose as she had 227

been since witnessing the carnage committed against the Comanche.

‘That’s a wonderful idea, Rose,’ Lucy said without enthusiasm. ‘But I don’t hold out much hope of it ever coming to be.’

‘What we hold out hope for is that you’re gonna show us where to find – ‘ Dingle started.

‘Quit talking that way, dummy!’ Slade broke in acidly on the now avariciously grinning man, forcing his harsh voice down to a whisper despite his anger at him.

‘Uh?’ Dingle was puzzled.

Slade shot a glance toward the cookhouse tent and kept his voice low. ‘With all these army boys about, we don’t want word to get back to the top brass that somebody here knows where the government money is hid, damnit!’

Dingle swallowed hard and looked sheepishly around as he excused. ‘Gee, I never thought of that.’

‘I just hope that pair of deputies ain’t blabbing to the major about what we’re doing out here,’ Slade said as everyone’s attention was transferred from the bubbling cooking pot toward the far side of the camp. Where Tree and Goodrich emerged from a large bell tent behind a flagpole with the stars and stripes hanging limply at the top.

‘I reckon they’re bound to have done that.’ Edge took another sip of canteen water. ‘But they don’t know what Rose knows.’

‘Hey, that’s right!’ Dingle blurted excitedly. ‘And now that the – ‘

There was suddenly heightened activity throughout the camp as commanding voices yelled orders that snapped the troopers were out of morose lethargy in the wake of their easy triumph and uniformed figures started to move eagerly with loud laugher and ribald shouting to break camp. Tree announced unnecessarily as he and Goodrich reached the area of the cookhouse tent: