Hawkins put Ludlow in charge of taking Running Cougar’s body to the town doctor for embalming. The lieutenant ordered Corporal Tall Bear and Scout Red Moon to put the corpse over the dead man’s horse for the trip to the undertaking parlor. He also ordered a reluctant Michael Strongbow to come along for treatment of his wounded shoulder. That left Sergeant Eagle Heart, Acting Corporal Swift Horse, and Red Moon to finish off the simple earthen rifle emplacements.
While those two matters were tended to, Captain Hawkins glanced over at Sheriff Martin. “Are things ready in Hope Wells, Dan?”
“Yeah,” the sheriff replied. “I sent some of the men down to the depot to get Arnie and Zeke’s bodies. The Injuns wrecked the telegraph equipment, so we’re definitely cut off from outside help.”
“D’you think that’s gonna be a big problem?” Hawkins inquired.
Martin shook his head. “We’ve always managed to fend off attacks on the town. It’s those folks out on farms and ranches we got to worry about. We already know about Arlo Wheatfall’s place from the fire out his way.”
“Too bad,” Marshal O’Rourke said. “He was a nice old timer.”
“Yes he was,” Martin agreed. “I just hope those godamn Apaches didn’t torment him and his people too much.” He sighed. “Particularly the women. Anyhow, ever’body in town is armed and ready for trouble.” He looked out over the scene of the fighting. “I see the dead Injuns have been taken away.”
“Yep,” Hawkins said. “We piled them behind that brush yonder. We picked up all the Henry rifles they had too.”
Dennis O’Rourke growled, “That godamn pastor is gonna get a good long sentence in a Federal penitentiary for that fiasco. And Leo Horton the barber is gonna be his cellmate.”
“At this point in the situation,” Sheriff Martin said, “I’m worried about a lynching where those two are concerned. And I don’t have a deputy anymore.”
“I can lend a hand,” O’Rourke promised.
“Good. I’ll try to deputize some others to help out.”
Ludlow Dooley, Corporal Tall Bear and Scout Michael Strongbow entered Hope Wells on horseback. Tall Bear led the horse with Running Cougar’s corpse draped over its back. The trio was surprised and pleased that the men on the street showed respect for the dead scout by removing their hats. The women bowed their heads.
When the officer and scouts reached Dr. Simpson’s infirmary, Ludlow left Tall Bear and took Michael into Doctor Simpson’s infirmary. There was no one in the waiting room, so the two went straight to the dispensary. They found the physician laying out instruments, bandages and other medical paraphernalia for possible casualties in the coming days.
“I have a wounded scout here, Doctor,” Ludlow reported.
“Let’s have a look,” Simpson said, guiding Michael to the examining table.
“I’m not hurt hardly a’tall,” Michael insisted.
“Let me determine that, young man,” Simpson replied. He cut the bandaging, carefully lifting it off the wound. “It’s clean. Who treated this injury?”
“I did,” Ludlow said. “I followed the instructions in the army medical manual.” He took another look. “How serious is it?”
“Well, it can be treated well enough,” the doctor answered. “I got carbolic acid to keep it from putrefying.”
Michael glanced at the wound. “I’m gonna be all right, aren’t I, Doctor?”
“Well, you’ll have a permanent dent of sorts. And once it’s healed you might not have full use of it, but not enough to make any real impact on your life.”
“That’s good,” Michael said. “I was afraid I’d have to leave the Army.”
Doctor Simpson continued, “The bad news is that this is going to take a while to mend. It has to be allowed to heal from the inside out. It’ll mean opening it up now and then to keep the outside from healing too fast. If it does, the inside will be cut off from any medication. Your army surgeon can take care of that and I’m sure he’ll have some laudanum for the pain.”
“I don’t need nothing for pain,” Michael stated emphatically. “I’m a Kiowa Injun.”
Simpson snorted. “I don’t care if you’re the mighty Hercules, you’re going to need something when it really starts hurting.” He glanced at Ludlow. “It’s too bad there’s no way to graft skin over a wound like this. It’d heal a lot faster with less discomfort to the patient.”
“Maybe medical science will be able to do that someday,” Ludlow mused. “By the way, we had one of our scouts killed. The body is outside. Sheriff Martin said you could embalm him for the trip back to Fort Lone Wolf.”
“Yeah, I can do that. I’ve got the bodies of the stationmaster and deputy sheriff as well. Let me finish up here and we can get the matter arranged.”
A half hour later, with Michael bandaged, the lieutenant and physician went outside where Corporal Tall Bear stood beside the horse bearing Running Cougar’s corpse. Doctor Simpson gestured to the corporal to follow him, then led the way around to the back of the building where he did his undertaking chores.
Ludlow and Tall Bear carried Running Cougar into the rustic morgue, laying the body on an elongated table. Two coffins with the covers yet to be nailed down, were on sawhorses at the back of the room. Ludlow walked over and peered at the corpses. Deputy Sheriff Arnie Schmidt was laid out in a suit, looking as if he were asleep. Zeke Mason was the same way, except for a muslin cloth that was laid over his face.
Simpson noticed Ludlow’s curiosity. “He had a deep wound in his head that distorted his features. There was nothing I could do about it.”
“I see,” Ludlow commented. “Well, what we want with Running Cougar is embalming and a coffin to take him back to his family in the Indian Territory.”
Tall Bear heaved a sad sigh. “Him brave warrior. Good fighter.”
“He sure was,” Ludlow agreed. “Well, let’s get Michael and head back to the detachment.”
The two took a last look at their comrade-in-arms, then left the gloomy undertaking parlor to join the young scout in front of the building.
The surviving members of the Cuadrilla had done nothing to clean up the mess at the late Arlo Wheatfall’s ranch. The burned buildings reeked from the odor of smoke and empty liquor bottles were scattered around. The bodies of the two cowboys’ wives still laid where they were left after being ravished and murdered.
The Apaches were now sobered up and ready to renew the battle. Halkon had sent Kuchiyo out to scout the area where Pontaro had led his small band. The warrior returned saying there was no trace of them. He had peered through the trees where the Indians in Army uniforms had been, seeing patches of dried blood that muddied the soil.
Halkon was satisfied with the way things were. Pontaro and the others were now ghost warriors waiting to join him and the Cuadrilla in an attack on Hope Wells. Halkon was satisfied that all the available liquor at the ranch had been consumed. There would be no more drunkenness among his fighters.
He gathered the Cuadrilla around him. “Now we go to the town we could never destroy. We will attack and the ghost warriors will join us. Everything is in our favor and against the whites.”
The warriors cheered and stomped their feet in excitement.
“We will ride our horses straight into the town and begin the fight,” Halkon continued. “We are now impervious to the bullets of whites. There is no reason for the Great Life Giver to make us ghost warriors. They will appear and join us in this great victory. Before the sun sets this day, there will be no whites left alive anywhere in the world.”
Several of the men yelled out for the fighting to begin. Halkon raised his rifle. “To your horses, brothers!”