Mack Hawkins and Ludlow Dooley rushed up onto Hezekiah Woodward’s porch with Dennis O’Rourke and Sheriff Dan Martin right behind them. They didn’t bother to knock. Instead, Hawkins pulled the front door open stepped into the parlor.
Hezekiah, Leo Horton, Farley Dempsey and Ed Turnbull were on their knees praying. They snapped their eyes around to the trio of intruders. Hezekiah stood up demanding, “What’s the meaning of this?”
Hawkins held up a Henry rifle. “We’ve taken three of these from Apaches that were killed on the south side of town. What do you know about ‘em?”
Hezekiah tried to put some authority into his voice, but he stuttered an answer. “Them rifles … is for the Injuns to … to fire and strike all the sinners … all the sinners dead.”
O’Rourke roared, “You gave rifles to the Injuns, didn’t you? Henry repeaters just like this one. That traveling salesman told us you bought ‘em from him. He thought they was for the hunters in your church. That was a godamn lie, wasn’t it?”
Hezekiah summoned up some righteous indignation. “Do not use the name of our Lord in vain in this house!”
The sheriff grabbed the pastor by his shirt front and shook him as hard as he could. “Them Injuns attacked us from the south where the depot is! I sent Arnie Schmidt down there to have Zeke Mason telegraph Fort Stryker for help! That means both of ‘em are dead!”
“Ya’ll are under Federal arrest,” O’Rourke declared, drawing his revolver. “The charge is supplying arms and ammunition to hostile Injuns. Now! Hands up and march outta the house.”
Dan Martin looked around. “Where’re your wives?”
“Downtown,” Farley Dempsey the burly blacksmith replied. “Me and Ed and Zeke didn’t know nothing about them rifles ‘til they was already given to the Injuns!”
“Zeke don’t know nothing a’tall!” Martin exclaimed. “It’s a sure bet he’s laying dead beside Arnie. And that also means that Fort Stryker ain’t gonna be sending us any help.”
Hezekiah was suddenly serene and sure of himself. “God has just told me not to worry. The second coming will occur and all is gonna be set right.”
“Hallelujah!” Ed Turnbull hollered out.
Martin pulled his six-gun and aimed it at the churchmen. “One more godamn hallelujah, and there’s gonna be four dead bible thumpers laying on this floor.”
Hawkins and Ludlow followed behind as O’Rourke and Martin escorted the prisoners toward the downtown area. The people on the street were confused by the sight of the town’s pastor, deacon and two lay brothers being pushed into the jailhouse.
Hawkins grabbed Ludlow’s arm. “Mr. Dooley, come with me.” The captain strode down the street with Ludlow following. When they reached Hezekiah’s store, Hawkins shouldered the door open. “Let’s you and me grab a couple of long-handle shovels in the back. We’ll have good use for ‘em as well as Michael Strongbow’s spade.”
Pontaro and his surviving warriors dismounted a hundred yards or so short of Hope Wells’ limits. The four teenage boys with them took control of the horses, leading them into a nearby copse. The Apache war chief wanted to save the animals’ lives by attacking the town on foot. His reasoning was that while he and his braves would turn into ghost warriors when shot down, there was no guarantee the horses would survive.
He spread out his small force in a skirmish line, dividing them up on each side of the road. This wasn’t a normal Apache tactic, but he’d seen white soldiers go into battle in that manner; and it had always been effective. When everything was ready and all the Henry rifles had one round chambered and seventeen in the bullet tubes, he hollered, “Ba’ajil! Charge!”
The war party moved forward at a rapid pace, fanatically courageous as they looked forward to being impervious to the bullets of white men.
It was Corporal Running Cougar who first sighted the Guerras when they appeared down the road. He yelled a warning and cranked off two shots, dropping one of the hostiles. Several rounds fired back by the attackers simultaneously hit the scout noncommissioned officer in the chest. He staggered back, spun to his left and dropped to one knee. Running Cougar struggled to get to this feet, but was overtaken by death. The Comanche fell facedown onto the ground.
A rapid staccato of gunfire thundered across the scene as the combatants cranked cocking-levers and shot at each other. The Apaches walked upright at a steady pace toward the detachment, expecting to become immortal as soon as the first bullets struck them.
The scouts, either in a prone or kneeling position swung their sights from one attacker to the next. The range was short enough that Captain Hawkins and Lieutenant Dooley were able to use their pistols, taking rapid shots without having to aim.
Michael Strongbow was hit and fell back on his buttocks. He maintained that sitting position and continued firing. The youngster didn’t notice that a hunk of flesh had been blown out of his right shoulder. In one short minute, the fight was over. Dead Apaches laid sprawled in the short grass with five of their number wounded.
“On your feet!” Hawkins ordered the scouts. “As skirmishers, advance!”
The detachment, minus Corporal Running Cougar, moved forward at a steady cadence, looking for injured Guerras who might suddenly open fire. Michael Strongbow, still unaware of being wounded, kept his place in the formation. Hawkins, Sergeant Eagle Heart and Red Moon dispatched the wounded enemy with shots to the head. Ludlow Dooley took Corporal Tall Bear and Swift Horse past the battlefield into the trees.
At that moment Dennis O’Rourke and Sheriff Dan Martin trotted up with a half dozen townsmen. They looked incredulously at the corpses of Guerras spread out across the open area.
Dennis O’Rourke was puzzled. “How the hell did this happen?”
Hawkins shrugged. “They just kept walking toward us out in the open, firing as fast as they could.”
Sergeant Eagle Heart walked up with tears streaming down his cheeks. “Sir, I sad to report that Corp’ral Running Cougar is killed dead.”
Hawkins was noticeably upset. “Our first casualty.”
“I have one too,” Sheriff Martin said. “My deputy Arnie was found beside the south road near the depot. And Zeke Mason the stationmaster is dead. The top of his head is sliced in. The telegraph equipment is destroyed, so we won’t be able to get word out to Fort Stryker until the next train comes through.”
Ludlow, Corporal Tall Bear and Swift horse emerged from the trees with the four Guerras teenagers as prisoners. “These kids were taking care of the horses,” Ludlow explained. “So we’ve probably recovered at least some of the stolen animals we were looking for. It’s a good—”“
Hawkins interrupted, “Corporal Running Cougar was killed.”
Ludlow’s face paled. “Oh, God!”
O’Rourke patted him on the shoulder. “This is the first comrade-in-arms for you to mourn, Ludlow.” He paused. “And it never gets any easier, I’m sorry to say.”
Hawkins stepped in. “Mr. Dooley, Scout Strongbow is wounded in the shoulder. Get your medical bag and see what you can do.”
The lieutenant went over to his gear and fetched the haversack. He found Michael sitting on the ground drinking from his canteen. “Let’s see that wound, Scout.”
Michael shrugged him off. “It’s nothing, sir.”
“Maybe it is, maybe not,” Ludlow said. “Take off your shirt.”
Michael obeyed and Ludlow examined the wound. It wasn’t bleeding much, but a hunk of flesh had obviously been blown off his deltoid muscle. Ludlow, following instructions he had learned from reading his medical manual, cleaned it up by removing the blue lint from the youngster’s army shirt imbedded in the raw abrasion. With that taken care of, he folded a bandage, laying it on the injury. A quick wrapping with a strip of mesh cotton material secured the arrangement.
“That’ll hold you until we can get you to a doctor,” Ludlow said.
“I don’t think I need a doctor,” Michael replied. “This’ll do fine.”
Ludlow’s voice was firm. “You’re going to get proper medical treatment, Scout, whether you want to or not. Ignoring a wound could end up with blood poisoning that would cost you an arm if not your life.”
The young scout considered the consequences. “I understand, sir. Thank you.”
Hawkins turned to Sheriff Martin. “We’re going to need help with our dead corporal.”
“Sure,” Martin said. “Doctor Simpson is also our town undertaker. He can embalm the body for your return to the Indian Territory.”
“Obliged,” Hawkins said. He turned and yelled, “Sergeant Eagle Heart! Call the men together. We’re gonna move back a few yards into the brush.”
The senior noncommissioned officer turned to getting the captain’s orders obeyed. But first the Kiowas and Comanches hog-tied the four Apache boys until a wagon could be brought out to take them to the town jail.
Everyone was aware that the Guerras they had killed were only a part of the tribe’s warriors. They had no idea how many they’d face, but knew for certain the hostiles would be carrying Henry repeating rifles.
Hawkins had Sergeant Eagle Heart pass out the shovels taken from Hezekiah’s store. The scouts quickly began taking turns scooping out shallow rifle emplacements.