TURNING, ABBOTT MET Drew’s glance, catching an amused gleam which was replaced by anger.
‘The Captain’s misjudgment is as hindering as a broken wheel,’ Drew shrugged. ‘And the worst part, bad ’cess, is that he seems to have the power to back his orders. As for the stage and myself, with a choice of staying or going—’ he surveyed the disorganized scene grimly. ‘i’ll be toolin’ back the way we came, with no waste of time. If you wish to ride along—’
‘Thanks, but I’m afraid not.’ Abbott was prompt on that point. ‘My business is out this way.’
‘It’s sorry I am that we can’t continue on together.’ Drew meant it. ‘This country has the marks of an unhealthy climate, what with the talk that’s been assailin’ the ears not only of Wild Horse and his Comanches, but of a great medicine feast and gathering of the peoples—a prophet or messiah called the Bear, sorcerers and magic and what not. But for that I’d circle about and keep on, but Doorley may have a bit of sense in what he says. Thanks for giving me a hand, as you did.’ He extended a hand.
Abbott gripped it, impressed by Drew’s seriousness as well as what was probably a half-fanciful recital. Presently the stagecoach, pulled by fresh horses, its passenger list intact save for himself but swelled by two others, swung out through the gates and turned back toward the red and suddenly ominous glow of sunset,
Abbott eyed it thoughtfully. He could probably obtain a horse and keep on, whether or not that met with Doorley’s approval; the lack of it would not concern him too greatly. Once beyond the stockade, which would present no real barrier, he could probably buy a horse from the woman called Shenandoah.
With talk of magic and the threat of war and bloodshed, his thoughts were drawn to her as by a magnet. Hair like flame, or crimson—with contrasting eyes like sapphires and the mien at least of a high priestess if not a goddess!
It was not alone the aura of romance which surrounded her; here there was more and if he’d reached a dead end with the stopping of the stage, there was also a fresh beginning. Indeed, this might be a better starting place than he had expected.
Also there was the Major, obviously a sick man, whose name might or might not be coincidence. Doorley had all but admitted that he was assuming authority which had not been clearly delegated, acting without the knowledge or consent of the commandant, because he was too sick to be bothered—or to interfere—which was in keeping with a power-hungry man, who by chance was in the wrong place at a critical time. Such mistakes occurred. Usually they were merely annoying, but they could result in disaster.
Looking around, it was easy to see that the post was poorly prepared to cope with the emergency which seemed suddenly to have come upon it; though there should have been forewarning enough and to spare. Still, if the commandant was too ill to keep control or perhaps even realize what was going on and Captain Doorley was assuming an authority he was unprepared to handle, the deterioration of affairs became clear.
Soldiers were dashing about, attempting to arrange for the housing of the newcomers, but with something of the frenzy which actuated their captain. Perhaps because of bad orders or the lack of good ones, confusion was mounting rather than being brought under control.
Lacking the Major’s oversight, it seemed a fair judgement that matters were going from bad to worse. An army or a garrison could become inefficient, even demoralized, in a surprisingly short while. Also this post appeared to be short-handed, sadly undermanned, just when real trouble threatened.
But enough newcomers, ranchers and prospectors and trappers were coming in to swell the man-power to a respectable force. Those who sheltered behind the stockade walls should be safe.
But Shenandoah was outside such protection! She had promised to be back the next day for another load of supplies. But it was unlikely that she had any real notion of her own particular risk. It was well to make sure that her ranch was well stocked and she might not be afraid of Indians, and least of all of rumors and wild talk.
Whether she was or not, he and the Captain saw eye to eye as concerned her safety. Abbott was increasingly afraid.
The blast of a bugle, sounding for attention, surprised him along with most others. The gates to the stockade had swung shut.
The soldiers were being marshalled on the only portion of the parade ground still open. They formed in three companies, all of which looked to be well below regulation strength. A lieutenant to each company, but no other captains. Clearly the post was undermanned.
The new arrivals, men and women, even a few children, formed a fourth, loose group, partly out of curiosity but a sergeant was bellowing orders for everyone to assemble.
Abbott’s eyes narrowed. He could no longer doubt that the commandant must be very ill. Captain Doorley was more than running wild; he was in danger of running amok.
Doorley galloped his horse around the end of a wagon, forcing a woman and small boy to jump back hastily. Unheeding or even not noticing, Doorley pulled up like a general ready to review his troops. Clearly he relished his moment of glory.
For a dragging minute he stared at the gathering and a hush succeeded the stir. The soldiers were orderly, and the newcomers were curious or impressed. Only a young child cried fearfully.
‘Attention!’ Doorley shouted. ‘Now don’t be alarmed,’ he went on, his manner intimidating. ‘You’ve all come here to escape the Indians, so you’re safe enough. We’re going to make sure of that. I intend to take proper precautions, certain necessary steps.’
He fell silent, his glance forbidding under heavy brows—an effect he neither understood nor intended, Abbott decided. The new arrivals waited between expectancy and a growing apprehension. The realization that the man in charge was unsure of himself did not make for confidence.
‘All this comes at a bad time,’ Doorley went on. ‘Bad for us because Major Connoly is temporarily indisposed. It is also difficult because needed reinforcements have been unwarrantably slow in arriving. That finds us short-handed, well below strength.’
Again he subjected them to silence. Faces paled, feet shuffled. After the manner of a hell-fire and brimstone evangelist, he was painting a picture in bleak terms. Whether he could offer salvation at the end seemed unlikely.
‘That is the situation.’ His tone was sepulchral. ‘And I scarcely need to remind you of what you’ve been telling me, that we may be called upon to fight for our very lives. We are faced with a grave emergency, one which affects us all.’
Once more, while they looked back in growing apprehension, he stared unwinkingly, then barked suddenly,
‘Faced with so desperate a situation, I am proclaiming a state of emergency. Everyone is included in its provisions. Every able-bodied man, not already in uniform, I am inducting into the armed forces of the United States, for the duration of this emergency.’
His smile was obviously intended to be reassuring. After such a pronouncement, it was a ghastly travesty.
‘In that way, the depleted ranks of our forces will be in some measure restored to adequate strength, and more important, everyone will be under proper discipline, and so able to render the best possible service. A service required of all. Mr. Dekalb, Mr. Jennings, Mr. Van Dyke, you will proceed immediately to register every newcomer, even the names of women and children. Then you will issue uniforms and equipment to the men, assigning the new recruits equally and impartially among your companies.’
His glance was coldly intimidating. The fugitives stared back, between shock and disbelief. Such action was as high-handed as it was unexpected.
A brawny farmer stepped forward, clearly minded to protest. Doorley instantly bawled an order.
‘Corporal Mehagan! Take charge of that man! Lieutenants, you have your orders.’ He was away in a thunder of hoofs. Whatever else might be said of him, Captain Doorley had a sense for the dramatic.