Stagecoach Western Write 8 of 15

8.

We were reaching Apache Falls when the attack came. It was very sudden; one moment we were on the road and then the Apaches cries were heard. I looked up from my prone position on top of the baggage with my left leg hooked up at the rope that secured the bags. It was one way of not falling off the stagecoach.

“Apaches!” I hollered out. The Marshall leaned back and saw the Apaches. I counted ten riders riding hard at us from the right side of the stagecoach which was surprisingly small for the Geronimo group. I was wrong when I saw the second group on the other side. They are trying to pinch us in the middle. A shot rang out from the stagecoach. It could have been one of the three gentlemen.

“Stop shooting! We need to save bullets.” The Marshall to the others. He then turned to Bucks.

“How far are we to Apache Falls?”

“Half an hour or so.” That was a long time to reach Heaven. I thought to myself. What was in Apache Falls. It was just another Outpost fort and there was the ferry to cross the river. He tried to think the last time he was in Apache Falls. There were the stagecoach Outpost, the barn, and the corral. I hit my head hard and think harder. I remembered there was this small trading post where the native Indians trade for goods. It’s as good as anything compared to what we were getting then.

The Apaches trailed us behind and the shots came at us. There was one thing you ought to know was that shooting with both hands while riding was not that easy. Most times you shoot with one hand while the other held the reins. That does not apply to the Apaches. They had been taught to ride with their legs bareback on the horses. That left them with their hands-free and they learned to use it well from the bow with the arrows to the rifles they bought or taken from the soldiers.

The shots whizzed past me. The others in the stagecoach resumed shooting. A bloody waste for they were not aiming their shots. I rolled over and asked for a gun.

“Here take this” Finally I was given the Spenser. The Marshall pushed me the spared bullets. I took aim and shoot. It was not easy on the rocking stagecoach and my shots went wild.

“Apaches in the front!” Bucks called out. There was no stopping the stagecoach then. He rode hard at them despite the shooting. There were four Apaches Bucks there with their rifles levelled at Bucks. He took one in the left arm but he was still holding the reins. Marshall Wilcox turned his rifle to shoot at the forefront Apaches. He shot down one when the stagecoach rushed past the other three. It was my turn then to bring down one more and we were through.

“Bucks, how far?” The Marshall leaned backward and started shooting.

“Not far.” Bucks called out. I looked at his wound and saw the bullet went through the flesh. Bucks was tougher than most and will survive. When we were ahead, Bucks took one in the right leg. It hit him at the thigh and he almost lost the reins. I caught the Apache in my sight and returned the shot fatally with the other falling off the horse. I saw the Marshall offered to take the rein but Bucks was adamant on riding it through.

“I am out!” I heard the call from inside the stagecoach. I don’t know who it was but we are losing the battle. We had downed like five Apaches but there are more in pursue.

“Hold your fire. We are almost there.” Marshall Wilcox called out. I checked my bullets. I had expended ten shots in the last few minutes, picking my target and got three of the Apaches. It was not that I was gloating but I reckon I was a good shot than most. Soon we rounded the bend and I saw the river. It was Apache Falls ahead. The Apaches in pursuit had stopped and we rode in towards the Outpost.

When Bucks pulled the reins to stop the horses, the passengers all rushed out into the Outpost. I left the Marshall get down before I did that myself. I saw Bucks missing and looked for him on the stagecoach. He was still seated there. I held out my right arm towards him but he declined it.

“I am hurt bad.” Bucks pointed to me the one wound we missed. It was on his left waist. He was bleeding profusely there. I climbed up and grabbed hold of the elderly man. The Marshall saw me and then assisted in lowering Bucks down. We shoulder assisted the driver into the Outpost.

“Its empty. No one’s here.” Mr. Hatfield called out. “It’s abandoned too.”

I ignored the remark and helped Bucks to the nearest seat. It was a wooden bench and he was laid there. The doctor despite the ordeal of being pursued had reacted with his skills to care for the driver.

“Someone boiled me some water and get my case.” The Doctor called out while he examined the wounds. He knew the most crucial one was the one at the waist. He may have to remove the bullet. Ms Dallas had responded to search for the pot and found it but there was no water. I volunteered to fetch it. The well was outside sat the compound. And we have the Apaches outside.

Or they were seen out there.

“I will do it.” No one offered to take my place. I was not surprised at that. I may not return at all. I grabbed the pot and ran out. It was a short distance to the well, and the Apaches were out there. The shots came son after I took three steps and then it was not stopping. I ran without looking back and reached the well. I crouched behind it and then reached for the well bucket. It was still there and so was the rope. I tossed it into the well and slowly lowered it down. It soon hit the water surface and I began the filling of the Buckset. The hard part was to come. I had to raise the Buckset without standing up. I pulled and heaved with my arms’ muscles and then I felt some one helping me.

It was Ms Dallas.

“Thank you.” I greeted the lady who had joined me there at the well. Two sets of hands eased the pulling effort. We got the Buckset up and then poured over its content. I took a mouthful and then spat it out. It was undrinkable.

“It’s been added with salt.” I cussed at the person who done it. It will not be the Apaches but a white man like my own kind. The Apaches valued water for it was scarce in the lands. They marked their water holes and passed on the knowledge by ears. They have also learned how to survive for days without water.

“It does not matter. The doctor can still use it.” Ms. Dallas explained the use of the water to me. I grabbed the Buckset and poured the content into the pot. Then we ran back but no one was shooting at us. Inside the Outpost the Marshall was reinforcing the Outpost for the impending attack. He had searched the place and found bare foods in the offer and no guns. He did a check on the bullets He was down to ten on his belt with three in the rifle while his own handgun held only four.

“I have six in the rifle. And another four in the gun.” Mr. Greenwood told the Marshall.

“I hold ten in my belt, and that’s all.” Mr Hatfield sounded out. He did not tell of the single shot he has on the Derringer.

“I have five left in my gun.” Mr. Hitch reported his.

“I have five in my gun inside my bag.” Doctor Bone announced his.

“I have four in mine.” That was Ms. Dallas. The Marshall was down to three in his belt and two in the rifle and gun. He looked to Bucks’ rifles. He was down to six in the rifle and two Bucks shots in the shotgun. He had brought down my gun belt. It was empty of bullets but I have one bullet in my gun.

“The Spencer rifles are six each in the breech but there are no more spares.” I could have cussed at the tow gentlemen for their reckless shooting but the call was to wait.

“We will keep one bullet for ourselves.” The Marshall made the call. He then took to look at the river. He motioned to me.