Stagecoach;Western write 2 of 15

2

“Mrs. Mallory, I knew Lieutenant Mallory. He is a mighty fine officer.” The commanding officer told the lady of her lover He was Lieutenant Blanchard with the detachment of twenty-five troopers assisted by the Sergeant and Corporal, and the Pima tribe Indian scout. The Pima and Apache were rival tribes and when words went out of Geronimo rampage, they volunteered to track the Apache.

“How is James?” Mrs. Mallory asked of her husband named Lieutenant Dayton ‘James’ Mallory. They were married for a year and then James was sent to the Apache land. She knew her husband has a responsibility to uphold. He left his wife in the care of the family at Michigan.

“He is wounded but will live.” Lieutenant Blanchard told the lady. He had met just minutes away when he rode towards the Outpost. He had seen the stagecoach there and decided to check the Outpost. He signaled the Sergeant to take two troopers and check the Outpost. He then reached for his water container. It was near empty from the three days of hard riding and chasing the elusive Apache leader. He rubbed the stale water off his parched lips and then signaled the follow-up. He saw the Sergeant had reached the Outpost.

“Corporal, I want a flanker of ten men here. I don’t want surprises.” Lieutenant Blanchard had been fighting the Apaches for over a year then. He had seen fine men including officers which had died fighting this war. He was not to lose his life by charging in blindly into an ambush. He rode on with the remaining man. He had on his revolver; the Navy Colt while his men were all armed with Spenser Repeating rifles.

“Are we expecting trouble, Corporal Dan?” The non-commissioned officer named Daniel Bain looked to the civilian they had picked up while on patrol. Mr. Martin Hatfield was dressed in the three-piece suit but the low-slung gun belt spoke of a man with a reputation of the wild west. He did introduce himself as a Southerner looking to go back home.

“No, Mr. Hatfield. I doubt it so.” Corporal Dan was from Virginia and has served the army for over twenty years, he still held the grudge for Southerners after having seen his father and friends died in the Civil War. He had joined the Calvary to honor his father.

“You stay with us, Mr. Hatfield. No harm will come to you.” Corporal Dan told the Southerner.

“Like heck, I would.” Mr. Hatfield kicked at the horse he was on and rode after the Lieutenant. He was upset at his earlier predicament when he rode out of the town with the stolen horse. He had little choices then; it was the hangman noose or the bullet in the back. He took the later and rode as if the sand storm was on his back. He left his poker winnings on the table before he fled for his life. He was a trickster and knew the odds was against him. His luck was bad for the horse he was riding soon had a lame on the left front leg. He had to put it down and took the long walk until he was rescued by the Army. He was given the spare horse by the Lieutenant. He took a liking to the officer who was from Louisiana. It was the Sergeant and Corporal; they were Yankee’s bred and detested the Southerner.

Mr. Hatfield arrived just when the Lieutenant had stepped in and was followed by himself. He saw the passengers of the stagecoach was there. It was a relief to him. He then saw the pregnant lady. If there was any kindness in the Southerner, it was his manners towards the ladies. He saw the officer conversing with the lady and then focused his attention to the others.

It was then he saw me.

“Ringo?” Mr. Hatfield muttered the name. He had met the Kid before. Well, it was more from a distance. He was playing cards than on the other table when he saw the Kid gunned down the other gambler. The kid had called the other on his cheat and on the gambler’s table, it was a grave insult. The gambler was not wearing a gun belt but the derringer was hidden in the left sleeve with the spring switch. The Kid drew his gun and it was all over. The gambler fell to the floor but the Kid was out of the saloon doors. Mr. Hatfield had picked up the derringer to keep with him.

“You must tell me about him.” Mrs. Mallory pleaded with the Lieutenant.

“He will live, Mrs. Mallory. He was shot in the left arm and right shoulder but the wounds are healing. He was kept in the infirmary to let him rest.” Lieutenant Blanchard had not disclosed how the other Lieutenant had retreated with only half his detachment when they were caught in an ambush against Geronimo. The officer had fought his way out and brought the survivals back with the Regiment Colours. He then turned to look at the others. He counted two ladies and four men. He then turned to the Sergeant and gave the order to dismount there.

“Call in the Corporal too. We will rest the night here.” His detachment needed the break. “And get some of our rations for these people.”

“Tell me why is that man in irons? Where is the law officer?” Lieutenant Blanchard looked towards me when he stepped in. I was still in my irons. It was Marshall Wilcox who replied.

“That’s a wanted fugitive from the law. I came on the stagecoach to get a ride to the next town. It was by coincidence I saw him and took him to custody. I am Marshall Curley Wilcox.”

“Lieutenant Blanchard. 6^th Calvary.” Both men greeted each other before the Lieutenant spoke to Mrs. Mallory. It was the Sergeant who asked the Marshall of myself.

“Shall the fugitive be kept away from the ladies? I can assign guard over him in the barn perhaps?”

“That won’t be necessary, Sergeant.” Marshall Wilcox replied. “I have him restraint and doubt he will attempt anything silly. There are worse things that the Apache could do to him.”

That brought a gasp of despair from the lady named Ms. Dallas.

“He cannot be left outside.” Ms. Dallas exclaimed out while looking at me. I have seen her furtive looks at me when I was in the stagecoach but she never made any attempt to talk to me. “It’s not the Christian way.”

“And he won’t be, ma’am. I do apologies for my earlier remark.” Marshall Wilcox then looked at me. I had remained quiet after the eavesdrop at the back of the Outpost.

“Don’t worry, ma’am. I will have my men here to guard the Outpost. We will not leave all of you unprotected. Fugitive or not.” Lieutenant then turned to attend to his own men.

“Are you well treated, Mister?” Ms. Dallas approached me. That action irked Mr. Hatfield who intervened and pulled the lady back.

“Don’t you step near that man? He is a killer.” Mr. Hatfield grabbed Ms. Dallas’s right elbow. She called out in pain. It was my call then to ease the lady of her discomfort. I stood up and kicked with my left leg at the other man in the inner side of the right thigh. He stumbled and I lashed out with the right leg at the groin. I kicked him hard and he went down. It was then I felt the hard handle of the rifle stock on my back. I went down next to the fallen man.

“Don’t move.” I looked at the barrel of the rifle leveled by the Marshall.