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. 6th 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.
No comments:
Post a Comment