Chapter Nine

Del forced his eyelids open. His head was on fire. He lay flat on his back, getting bounced around in a wagon. He glanced left and right, trying to get his bearings. There was Rodrigo, squatting on the wagon bed, back pressed into a corner. Who was driving? Kip? Another man lay next to him, unconscious. Where were they? And why was he in a wagon? He croaked Kip’s name. “What’s…goin’ on? Where are we?”

Kip leaned back from the bouncy seat up front. “So you decided to quit your slackin’ off and join us again? About time, I’d say. You do pick the oddest times to black out. Almost like you know when things are gonna be hardest.” He laughed and snapped the reins.

Del saw the grin on Kip’s face through the open flap. “Where—”

“We’re just out for a little drive. Thought we’d head up to Fort Sumner. Nicest place for miles around.”

“Sumner? Why?”

“To get your head taken care of, you dope. You ain’t been right for several days now, but then you ain’t right most of the time anyway. You got busted ribs, too. I told Goodwin you weren’t no use to us right now. He agreed, but for a second there, he almost looked a little worried about you. But he put up a fuss when I said I was gonna take the supply wagon to haul your busted-up body in.” Kip smiled back at his friend. “So I knew he wasn’t goin’ soft on you, after all.”

Del pondered that. Why’d Goodwin sign him on in the first place? Likely would have been better for both if he hadn’t.

“Who’s this?” Del eyed the unconscious man.

“That’s Ed, the one got shot off his horse by the rustlers. In a bad way. Hasn’t come around since.”

Del looked at Rodrigo. The boy stared at him with wide eyes, but then his eyes were always big, brown saucers. “Come here…son.” Rodrigo inched toward Del. “You all right?”

The boy nodded.

Del wished he knew what was going on in that young head. Must still be a terrifying place. “Kip, you bring any grub on this picnic?”

“Sure did. Check that burlap bag under your head. Lots of good stuff in there, if you ain’t already squished it.”

Del turned toward the bag. “Ahhgh!”

Kip laughed again. “I swear. Didn’t I just tell you you had busted ribs? Have Rod get it.”

Rodrigo motioned to Del to lift his head. The boy pulled the bag out and loosened the drawstring. Corn pone, pemmican, and coffee beans spilled forth. Del looked the contents over. “You sure do know how to pack, Kip.” He reached for the pemmican and started chewing. He handed several pieces to Rodrigo. “Even my teeth hurt.” He spit the rest of the fatty jumble out. “Got any coffee?”

“Nah, that’d just keep you awake, and I like you better asleep. Water’s behind Rod.”

“His name’s Rodrigo, amigo.” He nodded toward the canteen which the boy handed him. He took a bigger swig than he should have and coughed himself sick, all the while with a hand to his aching head and the other on his cracked ribs. Rodrigo patted him lightly on the arm. When the pain subsided, Del’s eyes drooped, then closed.

He was startled awake when the wagon hit something large in the road. Soon, the ride smoothed out and his heartbeat returned to normal. He started to stretch, but sharp rib pain stopped him. “What time of day is it?” He tried to sit up but sagged back to the wagon bed.

“It’s gettin’ on to the afternoon. Wind always picks up this time of day.”

“How long ’til we get there?”

“No tellin’. We just might get lucky and sneak on into Ft. Sumner before that storm to the west hits us. Or before the Mescaleros do. Then again, we might not. I’d say keep an eye out for both, but the only thing you’re seein’ is a canvas sky right now anyway. Dirty one at that. Don’t smell so good, neither. Wind’s to my front, though, so I’m fine, thanks.”

Del drifted off to Kip’s laughter. He woke to the sound of wind slapping canvas against the iron hoops that supported the cover. The wagon wasn’t moving.

Kip bustled in from up front. “Damn, that wind’s cold. We’re stoppin’ here for the night. Couldn’t do more’n scatter some feed and set out a bucket of water for the horses—too blustery.” He shook his head and drew his coat tighter. “Let’s break out that feast I brought for dinner. Just the three of us so we ought to have a high old time eatin’ our fill.” He reached for the burlap bag and drew the pemmican out.

Del slowly rolled to one side and pushed himself to a semi-seat. His insides were on fire. He took several short breaths. “You shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble, Kip.” He picked out a hard biscuit and tried to chew it. A swig of water helped. “This here’s a right nice dinner. Only thing missin’ is a waiter and the silver.”

Kip smiled. “The silver? I thought you brought it. We probably ought to circle back for that.”

A small grin creased Del’s face. “Don’t bother on my account. Rodrigo, you need to eat somethin’, boy. Kip, help him with some vittles, willya?”

Fffffft! Ffffft!

Arrows buried themselves in the side of the wagon. “Get down! Stay below the wooden sides.” Kip scurried to the front and peeked out under the bouncy seat. “There’s three of ’em flankin’ us. They look like Comanche from here. Too dark to tell. Oughta be about as cold as we are, too.”

“What’ll we do?” Del’s heart was in his throat. His first thought was about the boy. He worked himself up to a crouch, holding his side. He dragged a blanket over to Rodrigo. “Get under it and don’t move!”

Two more arrows found the wagon. Another twanged into the front seat. Kip jiggled it free and brought it back inside. “Thought they might be Comanch, but markings on this shaft say they’re Apache all right. Mescalero. There’s likely more where they came from, too. We’ve crossed into their territory now. No tellin’ what they intend to do, they’re just sittin’ out there flingin’ arrows at us. Could be they’re waitin’ to see if we’ll fire back. Only thing we got goin’ for us is they don’t know how many’s in here. Or how we’re fixed.”

Del’s thoughts raced. The Indians hadn’t shot the pull horse or their horses tied on back. That would have been easy to do. “If they were gonna kill us, they could have already killed the horses. Why don’t we cut our two trail ponies loose? See if that’s what they want.”

“That’s better thinkin’ than I’ve come up with.” Kip drew a knife from his boot and knee-walked to the rear of the wagon bed. He slid a hand out of the canvas, blade extended.

Whhhit. Whhhit. Two more arrows slammed into the back.

One slice of Kip’s knife and the rear horses’ reins dropped free. They drifted away.

Del drew his pistol and peeked out under the canvas. The pain almost paralyzed him. He rested the gun on top of the wooden side rail and tried to breathe. He said, “Kip, get the wagon horse to hurryin’. I’ll keep an eye on things back here.”

Kip reached out and snapped the reins laying under the front seat.

Del kept his Colt trained on the three Indians as they side-stepped their mounts toward the two pack horses.

Kip managed to draw the wagon away at a distance. “Hope those arrows were just to get our attention.”

The Indians held rifles at the ready. One grabbed the trail horses’ reins and pulled away, while the other two eyed the wagon. They turned and disappeared into the night.

Del exhaled and dropped back to the wagon bed. He lay still for several minutes while his body dealt with the pain. When the worst eased, he arm-crawled back to his spot in the middle. They should have been dead. He lowered his head on the burlap bag and let his hurt subside again. His breathing slowed. He forced his eyes open again. Rodrigo lay still under the blanket. Del pulled it off. “You okay?”

The wide-eyed boy nodded. He crept closer to Del.

Kip dropped back inside. “It’s all right; they’re gone now.”

Del stared upward. “Not happy we lost those horses, but glad that’s all they wanted. Should we stay here tonight or keep on?”

“My guess is this’s the safest place to be. When those braves lead our horses into their camp, the rest of ’em likely won’t come out and bother us. Tomorrow may be a different story.”

Del wiped his bandana across his forehead. “That was awful close, even if they were only after horses.” His eyes drooped. “I gotta get some shuteye. Wake me and I’ll spell you,” although the idea of him keeping watch was probably crazy. “Daylight can’t come quick enough to suit me.” Del got as comfortable as he could laying on the unyielding wooden bed. As much as he needed it, sleep would come hard tonight.