Wolf Creek (6 page)

“We must do what we can to aid the
survivors,” Cora said.

“If Putnam will allow it,” Munro said, and
began to walk in the direction of the soldiers, just as Hix and
Deputy Marshal Cory rode up.

“Sweet Jesus,” Hix said as he and Quint
reined to a stop beside Munro.

“Indeed,” Munro said, “though I very much
doubt that Jesus had anything to do with this.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to speak to the major and see if
he takes responsibility for what happened here, not that he has any
choice. In fact, he’ll probably be proud of it.”

“Nobody could be proud of this,” Quint
said.

“If you think that you don’t know men like
Putnam,” Munro said. “I saw more than one like him in the war. He’s
in the mold of General Sheridan, which is only to be expected, I
suppose. And why do you think he had Marsh along to take pictures
of the dead?”

Quint had no reply for that.

Munro walked toward Putnam, and the others
followed. Cora saw Charley Blackfeather and Captain Dent in
shackles with two soldiers standing guard over them. She pointed
this out to Munro and explained about Blackfeather, though she
didn’t know why Dent would be shackled as well.

“Dent must not have followed Putnam’s
orders,” Munro said. “If that is the case, he should be commended
instead of being bound like a criminal.”

Putnam was addressing his men when the small
group from Wolf Creek walked up. Cora saw Wil Marsh standing off to
one side, and she noticed that Hix was staring at him, though Marsh
gave no sign that he even knew Hix was there.

Putnam paused in his remarks and turned to
the newcomers. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “You’re
interfering with the army in the performance of its duties.”

Hix turned aside and spat in the dust.
Putnam ignored him.

“You’ll have to leave immediately,” Putnam
said. “We are about to ride after the men of this village. They
pose a constant threat to the safety of the people of Wolf Creek
and must be pacified.”

“Slaughtered, you mean,” Munro said.

Putnam shrugged. Cora had to admit that he
cut a handsome figure in his uniform, but something inside him was
twisted and ugly.

“Call it what you will,” Putnam said. “It is
army business and no concern of yours.”

“You’ve killed women and children here,”
Cora said. “They couldn’t have fought back.”

“Some of the boys came at us quite
valiantly,” Putnam said. “As did some of the women. We had no
choice.”

“You chose to come here, but you made a
mistake,” Cora said. “These people weren’t bothering anyone.”

“You know nothing of these hostiles,” Putnam
said in a condescending tone, dismissing her.

“We are going to treat the wounded,” Munro
said. “Surely you have no objection to that.”

“You may do as you please with them. They
are not my concern at the moment.”

“I want to speak to Captain Dent.”

“That won’t be possible. Dent is a prisoner.
He refused my commands and refused to order his company to attack
the hostiles. He will face military justice later, but for now he
is to remain in irons.”

“You can’t prevent me from speaking to
him.”

“Certainly I can. If you attempt to talk to
him, I’ll have you shot.”

Cora could hardly believe Putnam meant it,
but a glance at his cold eyes convinced her that he did. Something
in those eyes reminded her of Jared Woodson. He and Putnam were
much alike under the skin.

“Very well,” Munro said, making no effort to
avoid the contempt in his tone. “I shall speak to him when you
leave.”

“He will not be allowed to remain here,”
Putnam said. “I cannot spare the men to guard him. Both he and
Blackfeather will accompany us.”

Munro shook his head and sighed.

Putnam waited a second and said, “If that is
all . . . .”

“That is all, indeed,” Munro said.

Putnam nodded and turned back to his men.
Munro went back to the buggy for his medical supplies.

Hix looked over at Marsh, who still had not
acknowledged him or the others.

“I’m going with the regiment,” Hix said.

“Surely you can’t mean it,” Cora said. “They
plan only on more killing.”

Hix gave her an evasive look. “Maybe I can
prevent some of it.” Without giving her a chance to ask anything
more, he walked over to stand near Putnam.

“He’s an odd one,” the deputy said, watching
him.

Cora nodded in agreement. “Indeed he is, but
perhaps he can do something to dissuade the major from his
plans.”

“Not likely,” Quint said. “Here comes Munro
with his buggy. We’d best see if we can be of any help to these
poor souls.”

“You mustn’t stay,” Cora told him. “You have
to go back to Wolf Creek and let the town know what’s happened
here.”

“She’s correct,” Munro said, pulling the
buggy alongside them. “Stone Knife is still on the loose, and he’s
likely to be enraged by what’s happened here. If he finds out about
this massacre, he might very well attack the town. People must be
prepared for that.”

Cora could tell that Quint felt that he had
to do something to help the Kiowa, though there was really little
that he or anyone else could do.

“You’re paid by the town to protect the
citizens,” she reminded him. “Your first duty is to them.”

Quint nodded. “You’re right, of course. I’ll
do a bit here first and then ride back.”

“Then let us get started,” Dr. Munro said.
“It’s little enough we can do, but we must do what we can.”

***

It was heartbreaking work, but Cora was able
to keep her emotions under control as she bound the wounds and
burns of the weeping women and stoic children. The old men refused
to let her touch them. They believed in their own medicine and not
that of some white woman and doctor. Even most of the women who
were conscious enough to resist didn’t allow the doctor to
help.

After about a quarter of an hour, Quint told
Cora and Munro that he was leaving.

“I’ve done all I can here. So have you, I
believe. The soldiers are about to ride out. You should go back to
town with me.”

“I can’t leave,” Cora said. She looked
around at the dead and dying, the blood-soaked ground, the flies
that buzzed around them all. “Not while there is still something I
can do, some comfort I might give.”

“Doctor Munro will tell you that there isn’t
much left to be done here.”

“The deputy is quite right,” Munro said,
“though I feel it is my duty to stay.”

“And mine,” Cora said. “It’s possible that I
can be of some help to you.”

“What if the Kiowa come back without running
into Putnam and his soldiers?” Quint said. “They’ll kill you
without a second thought.”

“I’m willing to take that gamble,” Cora
said.

“And so am I,” Munro said.

“Well, I can’t force you,” Quint said. He
shook his head. “I wish there were more we could do to help.”

“Go on back to town,” Munro said. “Give the
warning.”

“I will,” Quint said.

As the deputy marshal started back toward
his horse, Cora looked over toward the soldiers. Hix was in earnest
conversation with Putnam, making his case to ride with the
regiment, no doubt. Putnam was nodding as if in agreement. He’d be
happy to have another gunhand riding with him, Cora thought, even
if it was a barber.

Putnam turned away from Hix, and yelled some
orders. The soldiers went to their mounts, and the two guarding
Charley Blackfeather and Captain Dent were momentarily distracted.
Blackfeather slammed into one of them, knocking him to the ground,
and made an awkward run for a horse. The other guard raised his
rifle, but Dent bumped him as he fired. The bullet sailed far above
Blackfeather, who was nearly to the horse when three other soldiers
caught up with him. Because of the shackles, there was little he
could do to fight them. One of them hit him in the back of the head
with a rifle, and as he started to fall, the other two grabbed his
arms. He sagged between them, and they dragged him away. He was a
big man, and he wasn’t easy to handle.

“Charley’s going to need my help,” Munro
said. “If that blow didn’t kill him, that is.”

“He’s not badly hurt,” Cora said. “I believe
the rifle butt hit him on that thick braid he wears.”

Munro looked at her. “You have very good
eyesight.”

“So I’ve been told.”

At that moment one of the wounded women
cried out in pain.

“See to her,” Cora said. “I’ll attend to
Charley Blackfeather, if Major Putnam will allow it.”

Munro nodded, and Cora got some clean
bandages and carbolic acid and went to here Blackfeather lay on the
ground, with Putnam standing over him, cursing.

As Cora neared, one of the soldiers nudged
Putnam. Red-faced, he clamped his mouth shut, gave Blackfeather a
kick in the ribs, and stalked away.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that, ma’am,” the
soldier told Cora.

“Hear what?” she asked.

The soldier grinned, and Cora knelt beside
Blackfeather.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re dead,” she
said. “You scalp isn’t even laid open. You have a knot on your
head, but your braid cushioned the blow. I won’t need these
bandages.”

Blackfeather turned his head and looked at
her. “You aren’t being much help.”

“I have no idea what you were trying to
achieve, and I’m sorry if I hindered you. However, even if you’d
gotten to the horse, I don’t believe you could have mounted it, not
with the shackles on you.”

“Putnam’s crazy,” Blackfeather said. “I
thought I could get away and warn the Kiowa and Cheyenne
chiefs.”

“What he did here is terrible,” Cora said,
standing up. “He’ll be judged on that account. She looked at the
soldier who had grinned. “So will you.” She waved a hand around to
indicate the regiment. “So will you all.”

“I reckon you’re right,” the soldier said.
“I was just following the Major’s orders.”

“Speak of the Devil,” Cora said, seeing that
Putnam was coming back.

“Get that black-skinned ʼbreed back on his
feet,” Putnam said. “Throw him on a horse. He’ll ride with us or be
shot.”

Two soldiers grabbed Blackfeather’s arms and
jerked him to his feet. He shook them off easily but made no
further move to escape. For a moment Cora thought he might throw
himself on Putnam. Putnam’s hand rested on his pistol, and Cora
realized that the major hoped Blackfeather would do just that. If
he did, Putnam would kill him.

Blackfeather must have realized it, too. The
fire died in his eyes, and he stood quietly until the soldiers took
his arms again, leading him over to where Dent had been mounted on
a horse.

Cora started to tell Putnam again that he’d
made a mistake, but she knew it was no use. He was blind to
anyone’s view but his own, misguided as it was. She turned away
without speaking and returned to see if she could be of any help to
Doctor Munro.

The woman who had cried out was dead. Doctor
Munro had left her to deal with another woman, who had been badly
burned. The burns must have been terrifyingly painful as the doctor
spread some kind of salve on them, but the woman made no sound.

Cora couldn’t bear to watch. She turned to
see the soldiers, all of them mounted now and formed up into
columns. Putnam waved his arm and gave a command. The columns moved
out, their guidons fluttering. It was a stirring sight, not
menacing at all, but Cora knew that the appearance did not mirror
the reality or Putnam’s intentions.

Cora stood there for several minutes. After
a while Munro joined her, and both of them watched as the columns
rode toward the horizon and dwindled in size.

“Do you think we’re safe here?” Cora
asked.

“I don’t know,” Munro said. “I do know I’d
rather be her than under Putnam’s command. I expect his men are in
more danger than we are. But we shouldn’t be thinking of that. We
need to attend the wounded.”

“How many of them will survive?” Cora
asked.

“A few,” Munro said.

Cora wondered what their lives would be like
even if they lived. She stared after the soldiers for another
moment.

No matter how many people you help, here
or elsewhere, you can never atone for what your brother did
,
she thought.
You can’t atone for the men he wounded or for those
who died.

“Are you all right?” Munro asked, concern in
his voice.

Maybe I can’t atone, but I’ll do what I
can.

“I’m fine,” Cora said, and the turned back
to do whatever good she could.

Chapter Three

When Quint Croy turned his sorrel away from
the site of the massacre, he was sickened by the tragic waste. It
just didn’t seem fair, even if was the Army that did the killing.
He was angry with the Army and that Major Putnam. As far as he was
concerned, Major Putnam, whether he ordered the attack or not,
still had allowed his men to shoot down and trample the defenseless
villagers. Quint figured that the Major and his numbers were a
tough acting force but if any one of them were ever caught alone
against a rabid Kiowa, out to slit his throat, he wouldn’t last
five seconds.

Quint didn’t feel good about leaving Doctor
Munro and Cora Sloane out on the prairie without someone to watch
over them. Quint sighed thoughtfully after agreeing with the
others, that what had happened here was finished. The folks back in
Wolf Creek needed to know the marauding Kiowa, led by Stone Knife,
could possibly spring an attack of vengeance on the town. It was up
to him to ensure that the citizens knew and prepare as best they
could. He rode away solemnly disheartened.

***

Quint reckoned by the sun’s travel that he
had been riding for about two hours. The terrain was mostly flat,
broken only by low rolling hills. It was a lonely land where a man
could die from an accident or at the hands of others and no one
around to ask the why of it.