Chapter Four

 

 

For three days and nights Ender stayed in the hole.

On the third night he left the cavern. Only then did he feel it was safe enough to make his way down to the stream and drink, up until then he had been licking dew from the leaves at the cavern entrance. He ate moss from the stones to suppress the hunger pangs and chewed on some inner bark he ripped from a fallen tree.

He began to make his way up along the stream bank, listening with every step for any sign of guards posted along the way. He heard nothing but he smelt tobacco smoke on the night air. It was coming from up ahead and Ender moved cautiously on.

He found the man crouched over a small fire boiling a pot of coffee in a clearing on the opposite side of the stream. The man was one of Quinlan’s vaqueros and obviously thought he was safe enough and that the runaway was long gone by now.

Ender lowered himself into the water, which was only a few feet deep, he lay with his head above water and felt with his fingers until he found a decent sized smooth-surfaced rock at the bottom. Working his way through the rippling water he came to the bank and slipped out of the stream. Crawling on all fours, Ender worked his way through the brush towards the campfire.

A horse whickered in the darkness as it scented his approach and Ender froze but the vaquero paid the pony no heed and only prodded at the fire with a twig and smoked his cigarette unconcernedly.

In a rush, Ender tore from the brush. He swung back the heavy rock and before the crouching man could turn, delivered a heavy blow to the back of his head. The man fell forward onto the fire and Ender leapt across him, pounding with the rock. He felt the skull cave in beneath the blows and only then stood up. He pulled the man away from the fire and carefully picked up the fallen coffee pot before everything was spilt.

Ender found tortillas and goat cheese in the vaquero’s saddlebags and quickly demolished it all. He sucked coffee from the remains in the pot and began to undress the man. In minutes he had a shirt on his back and the fellow’s pistol belt around his waist. Dragging the body into cover under nearby bushes, he went to find the horse.

Saddled, with the vaquero’s rifle slung in a sleeve under his leg he was mounted and riding in another ten minutes. Ender knew there would be more guards ahead and he kept the Mexican’s bloodstained sombrero pulled low hoping to disguise himself as messenger from the ranch.

He was only stopped once before leaving the valley.

With a “Quién es él?” a man with a rifle stepped from the shadows.

“Es yo, amigo,” Ender answered as gruffly as he could.

“Adónde usted va?”

“Mesajero”

Ender did not wait to say more; he urged the horse on hoping the man would let him pass without further query. It worked and he rode on without any more difficulty.

He left the valley and was on the open plain as dawn light began to clear the sky.

 

He had no memory of reaching home.

He heard mumbling voices and his vision cleared to find himself lying on the floor on a buffalo robe. His chest was tight with bandages and two identical faces peered down at him.

Ender recognized it was Chatowitch, that was for sure but he was seeing double and he surmised that Caroline’s beating had damaged his eyes.

“En-da! You are with us again. It is good,” said Catowitch.

Her double remained silent and Ender was hard put to figure it out.

“He will live,” Catowitch said to the other Catowitch.

“Ho!” said the double to Ender. “I am Delsay, your new wife.”

“But you look the same,” whispered Ender dryly. “Am I seeing things? How can this be?”

Chatowitch laughed, her eyes sparkling. “No, you fool. We are twin sisters, that is all.”

“Twins! Well I’ll be damned,” muttered Ender. “Give me a drink, will you?”

The water on his dry lips tasted sweet and after a while Ender felt able to sit up. “How long have I been here? I don’t remember a thing about getting back.”

“You came in three days ago,” said Catowitch. “You were bad. Crazy with fever. The wounds on your chest had festered but they are well now. We cleaned them and having given new bandages. You slept and to sleep was good. Many things heal in sleep.”

Ender looked at the duplicate of Chatowitch, “How long as she been here?”

“Delsay has been with me only two days. She is pleased to be your wife.”

“Can she cook?”

“As well as me, if not better.”

“Then get to it, girl,” he said to Delsay. “Because I ain’t eaten in a while and I reckon I could down a whole buffalo, horns an’ all I’m so hungry.”

Chatowitch pulled a long face. “The man is well. Already he gives orders and thinks of nothing but his belly. Such is the way of men, sister.”

“And complaining is the way of women,” Ender answered just as quickly. “Now do as I say, my stomach is hitting my backbone here.”

Over the next few weeks, Ender settled down to recuperation and discovering how life was to be for him with two wives in tow. It proved to be not too daunting and Catowitch seemed to warm more to him with her sister present and the three together got along well enough. He hired a new worker on at the ranch, a neighbor who would come in to see to the cattle. The women he left to handle the crops and when things came into season he planned to sell them on to the quartermaster up at Fort Bowie. It was a successful little business plan and would allow him the time to maintain his job as deputy marshal and scout for the military when needed.

Delsay remained a wife in name only but he took Catowitch to his bed and they settled to their lovemaking as easily as the rest of their life. Catowitch proved to be a passionate lover and as soon as he had healed, Ender was hard put to put up with her frequent demands for his attentions. To his surprise, Ender found himself comfortable with the arrangement and life with the two women became an amenable affair and he found himself looking forward to the prospect of adding to their family group when Catowitch told him that she wanted a child.

But trouble came calling one day in the shape of Cyrus Land.

Ender was pottering around the house whilst the women were out in the fields when he heard the call from the front yard.

“Ender Smith, you in there?”

Ender picked up his shotgun and opened the door. Land sat hunched casually astride his pony with ten rough looking armed men closely packed behind him. He tipped back the brim of his bowler hat and smiled at Ender.

“How you feeling, Marshal? You did well to make it back here, got to say, it sure showed a lot of brass to cut and run like that.”

“What do you want here?” Ender asked gruffly.

“Me?” shrugged Land. “I’m just a messenger boy.”

“Spit it out.”

“Come on, Smith,” said Land easily. “Lay off the hard man, we’re professionals. You know there’s nothing personal in it. Those creeps down there pay me well and that’s my only interest.”

“We can all pick out who we work for,” said Ender. “Gunsels like you come a dime a dozen, you sold your soul a long time back, Land, so don’t stack me up against your miserable hide. Those two down there are a diseased pair and you know it. They should be put under and salt sprinkled over their graves.”

Land rubbed his narrow jaw thoughtfully. “You disappoint me, Marshal. I thought you had more class than that. Well, okay, if that’s the way you want to play it….”

He drew on the reins and kicked heels. Ender raised the shotgun and levered back the hammers in one motion. Then, he saw what Land was revealing.

Catowitch and Delsay were standing behind him, held up by their long hair bunched in the fists of two of the riders.

“Right pretty, ain’t they?” said Land, moving his pony to one side. “Here’s the word, Marshal. You bring in that Indian. You bring him in to Mister Quinlan and no harm’ll come to these dusky little maidens of yourn.”

“I don’t have him,” said Ender. “He’s up at the fort, in the guardhouse.”

Land shrugged. “Don’t matter to me where he is. Go get him out.”

“I can’t do that and you know it. Go tell that sick bastard you call a boss, he wants to come up here and fight with the army over possession he’s more than welcome.”

“Shit! Boy, you just don’t get it, do you? You’ve got a chance here to walk away clean. Hand over one no-account redskin and Quinlan will forget all about you. Its easy, one dumb red man for a world of peace.”

Ender’s eyes narrowed. “Leave go my girls and get off my land.”

“I’ve got ten men here, Smith. I could have your hide peeled if I wanted.”

“No, sir. Before they got me I’d blow that damned tiny head of yours off your shoulders,” to press the point he raised the barrels of the shotgun until they were centered on Land’s face.

Land chuckled. “Okay,” he said. “Let them gals go, boys. The Marshal here needs his squaw women in one piece. But I’m telling you, Smith, it’d be best to hand over the renegade.”

With that, he tugged on the reins and pulled his pony around and rode off, the men following behind. Both Chatowitch and Delsay rushed over to Ender, who lowered the shotgun and leaned weakly against a porch support post.

“That is the man who hurt you?” asked Catowitch.

“They work for him.”

“These are evil people,” added Delsay.

“I want you gals carrying weapons from now on,” said Ender. “I can’t be here all the time. I think we’ll be okay for a while now they’ve left their warning but there might come a time when they’ll be back. I guess they’ll wait and see what happens at Common Dog’s trial first.”

 

As it was, the time was fast approaching for Common Dog’s case to be heard and Catowitch had been to visit him with fresh clothes and see that he had enough to live a little more comfortably in the guardhouse cells. She came back with the worrying news that gallows were already being erected on the parade ground. None of which boded well for Common Dog.

Ender did not like the sound of that at all and he was preparing to take a trip up to the fort and have words with the Major about it when Sergeant Giltrap came riding fast into the ranch. His horse had been hard driven and had a sweat on it and the Sergeant dismounted quickly, even before the pony had slid to a full halt.

“Major wants you, Ender,” he hollered as he stamped up onto the porch.

Ender was already saddled up in preparation for his ride to the fort and about to go out and mount up when Giltrap arrived.

“What’s up?” he asked, seeing the normally calm Giltrap looking both grim faced and excited.

“It’s your laddie there,” Giltrap explained. “He’s made a break for it.”

“Common Dog?”

“The very one,” Giltrap agreed.

Catowitch and Delsay both came out onto the porch, their faces creased in worried frowns.

“Ladies,” greeted Giltrap, tipping the brim of his hat. “They were taking him across from the guardhouse, bringing him over to the holding cell next to the trial rooms. The civilian folks at the fort had gathered around to take a look at the boy,” Giltrap explained. “Well, he sees one of the trader’s there with his small lad with him. They’re gawping away as folks do at such an event but the fellow’s carrying a .44 pistol stuck in his waistband, the grip sticking out plain as day. Common Dog has his hands manacled in front and takes one look at the gallows and makes a grab for the gun, the trader snatches up his son for fear of his life and Common Dog pulls the pistol free. He cocks the wretched thing and fires at his guards. The Major thought it would be better if he sent Peyote and Sanza along with them, to make things easier, you understand?”

“Common Dog saw them putting up that damned gallows,” spat Ender. “Who wouldn’t make a run for it after that. He knew he was a dead man even before the trial’s started. What did he have to lose?”

Ender noticed Giltrap’s crestfallen face.

“What, there’s more? What is it?” Ender asked.

“The Major thought I should come personal to tell you rather than have a trooper do it. He’s dreadful sorry, Ender, he knew you were close. It was Sanza who was shot dead. Peyote got a clip on the head and was laid out, then Common Dog put a bullet in one of my troopers, he’ll live but he won’t walk so good no more.”

“Sanza dead!” Ender hung his head, his face twisted into a bitter grimace. “That’s too bad.” He looked at the two women who were clinging to each other in concerned distress.

“In all the fuss, Common Dog made a clean getaway, he panicked the cavalry horses in the corral and lit out on one of them. The gate guards couldn’t stop him, he was doing that Indian thing, you know? Riding along hanging down the side of the pony and there were about two hundred of the beasts on the run. My boys are still out there trying to catch them and we’ve barely a beast left to do it with.”

“So the Major wants me to go bring him in?”

“That’s the nub of it. He wants you up at the fort to give you instruction.”

“That’s a waste of time,” said Ender, his mind racing. He turned to Catowitch. “I’m sorry, honey,” he said. “I have to do this. Sanza was a good man.”

She nodded, accepting the inevitable. “It is best that you go,” she said. “You will bring our brother in safe, it is better than if the troopers are sent after him.”

“Pack me a mule, will you? Five days supplies.” He turned back to Giltrap as the women hurried off. “I’ll go straight from here, tell the Major, will you? And let Peyote know, I’ll meet up with him at Dry Wash Bluff, we’ll pick up the trail somewhere around there I guess.”

“I’ll do it,” answered Giltrap, catching up his pony’s reins. “I’m sorry it ended like this, Ender.”

“They should never have started with that blasted gallows, it was a fool thing to do.”

Giltrap swung into the saddle and with a wave of his gloved hand put in the spur and raced off in the direction of the fort.

 

“Any ideas?” Ender asked Peyote when they met up. He had found no sign of Common Dog’s trail; the Indian had made a clean getaway and disappeared into the mountains without leaving a trace of direction.

Peyote looked out over the soft white walls of the bluff and considered for a moment.

“He has a woman,” he said. “Maybe we should ask her.”

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Sigesh. She is on the reservation but not liked much, her people are of the Western Apache and no one trusts her. It is known there are those who report to the soldiers and she is believed to be one of them.”

“We’ll try it,” Ender paused, they had not spoken much about the escape or tracking down Common Dog and he thought it politic to bring it up now. “You okay with this?” he asked.

“Sanza was my friend,” he said. “But I do not think Common Dog meant to kill him. It was a wild moment, he had seen the white man’s hanging tree and was enraged by it, he swung around with the pistol and just fired. Sanza happened to be in the way. Before I could do anything he hit me with the gun barrel and I knew no more of what happened next. I think he was sorry he shot Sanza.”

“It’s a rotten deal all around,” said Ender somberly. “I don’t like this at all but I need to know if you have blood in your eye over it. I intend to bring Common Dog in alive, so if you have killing in mind, best tell me now.”

“I will do as you say, En-da. We will catch him up and there will be no killing,”

“Fair enough. Lets go see this woman.”

They found the woman pounding maize outside her wickiup. She was apart from the others in the reservation, having set up her camp on a flat patch of ground surrounded by a defensive wall of mesquite.

They approached her quietly on foot and squatted before the woman, their pony’s reins still in their hands. Sigesh paid them no heed and continued her pounding.

“Sigesh, I am the Marshal for the reservation, my name is En-da. We are here for Common Dog. He has killed a man, an Apache and he has wounded a white trooper. We must bring him in.”

She stopped her pounding but did not look at them.

“He is not here,” she said without raising her eyes.

“But you know where he had gone?”

“I do but I shall not tell you.”

“It would be best you tell us. If the soldiers go after him they will want revenge for their trooper and will kill him. They will bring in his head without his body.”

She looked up then, a quick glance only. She was a moon-faced woman, chubby and wearing a fringed buckskin dress.

“How will it be better if you catch him?” she asked.

“My wives are his sisters. I will not shoot him for their sake even though he has killed Sanza, who was my friend.”

“You are the one married to Catowitch and Delsay?”

“I am.”

“That was a good thing, when their mother died they had no one.”

Ender nodded and she continued a desultory pounding into the wooden bowl before her. “If you take Common Dog, I will have no one myself. Who will then feed our child and bring warmth into my wickiup?”

Peyote leant forward. “You will come under my protection,” he said. “I will see you and the child have enough to eat.”

She looked at him cautiously from below shy eyebrows. “You will do this?” she asked.

“As I have said,” Peyote made the swift sweeping motion with his hand that gave a seal on the promise.

“I think he has gone to the mountains,” she said, her eyes still fixed on the maize in the bowl. “There is a trading post up there run by white men, they hunt for cougar and sell whisky. Common Dog has hunted with them and he is friends with them.”

“I know this place,” said Peyote. “The man is called Lyle Granger, he has two other hunters with him. They drink much and hunt little.”

Ender got to his feet. “Thank you, Sigesh. I am sorry to bring this to your door.”

A child began to cry from inside the wickiup and Sigesh began to rise, she gave Peyote a quick glance. “You must stay alive and feed us,” she said. “Or we will die for sure.”

“Don’t worry, girl,” said Ender. “If Peyote can’t do it, then I will, you have my word.”

She gave him a quick, shy grin then. “If you have need of a third wife, En-da. I will come to you.”

Ender shook his head and smiled back at her. “On that score I’m well taken care of, don’t think I could handle another good looking woman right now.”

“How do you do this, En-da?” Peyote asked quietly as they rode away. “The women come to you as ground bees to honey. What is your secret? Tell me I want to know.”

Ender looked into the distance before answering. “Guess it comes from clean living and a righteous life, Peyote. Next to money that’s what the gals appreciate most.”

Peyote frowned and looked at him closely, and then he saw the smile beginning to break over Ender’s lips. The two of them burst out laughing as they pointed their ponies towards the Chiricahua Mountains.

 

The Granger Trading Post was high in the range overlooking Fort Bowie, it was a log cabin set on an area of level ground with high boulders and a row of pine trees behind. There was a long drop over a precipice after the trees at the rear and Ender and Peyote approached the place cautiously from the front, leaving the horses and mule some way down the track.

It was a squalid looking place with piled deer and goat horns lying around out front and a mess of litter on the ground. A deerskin was stretched over a frame, the decapitated head lying next to it. It was a fresh kill and flyblown buckets of guts and sides of meat had been laid alongside. A couple of dogs whined and growled over some bones.

There were four horses tied to a hitching rail out front and Ender nodded towards them from the cover of the cliff edge that lined the approach.

“Looks like they’re all to home,” said Ender, snapping open the coach shotgun and checking the double load.

“What do we do?” asked Peyote.

“There’s only one way, far as I can see. That’s go in through the front door.”

The dogs drew up their hackles and began barking ferociously as they approached and Peyote threw a stone at them and they backed away growling.

“Who’s that out there?” came a loud call from inside. “Speak up before I let rip with this rifle.”

“You got whisky in there, Granger? I heard you got strong liquor.”

“You buying or just bumming?” came the quick response.

“We got the wherewithal, we’re paying customers.”

“Come on in then, boys and welcome.”

Ender ducked his head as he entered the gloomy cabin, he kept the shotgun cocked but carried it by his side.

A long plank bar in a single bare dirt-floor room faced him, the plank set up on a couple of large barrels at each end. The floor was uneven and there was only one small window to allow light in. Behind the bar, stood a fat bellied man in a checkered woolen shirt with a black beard on his face and a Henry rifle in his hand.

At one end of the bar two solemn looking men leant in the shadows, hovering over a sticky, half full bottle of yellow liquid. At the other end stood Common Dog.

“You want to put that rifle down, mister,” said Ender.

“Sure,” he said laying the weapon with a clatter on the bar top. “Name’s Granger, this is my place. You boys ready for some prime alcohol? You see,” He waved in Common Dog’s direction. “We don’t mind Indians in here, all is welcome as far as I’m concerned. Long as their cash is mint, of course,” he grinned, revealing a row of brown and broken teeth.

“Well, it’s about that Indian along there that we’ve come.”

Common Dog was watching them carefully; he made no movement as he could see Peyote’s rifle was pointing in his direction from the doorway.

“What’s this about?” growled Granger, the smile of welcome dropping from his face.

Ender turned to Common Dog. “You coming easy?” he asked.

“I said, what’s this about?” barked Granger and the two hunters at the far end stirred, their hands dropping towards their holstered revolvers. “I don’t allow no trouble in here.”

“You folks just sit still,” advised Ender, calmly. “I’m reservation Marshal at Fort Bowie and I have to bring this fellow in.”

“I don’t know as I can allow that,” said Granger. “This here is neutral territory, it ain’t no reservation land. Common Dog is a good old boy and he’s under my protection.”

The two silent men at the far end separated from the bar and stood out in the open, their hands hovering over their weapons.

“I don’t want no trouble,” advised Ender. “You just let me take my prisoner and we’ll be out of your hair in a trice.”

Granger was bristling with bumptious pride. “Who in God’s name are you? Waltzing in my place telling me what’s what. Damn it, man! I’ve a mind to let my boys take you apart, I surely have.”

Ender allowed a contemptuous sigh to escape his lips; he stepped up quickly and swung the shotgun butt up slapping it flat and hard against Granger’s jaw. There was a sharp crack as wood met bone and Granger swung his head away, his mouth opening wide as a sluice of blood and a few broken teeth flew out.

“I ain’t got time for this,” growled Ender, as he continued the turn and covered the two at the end of the bar. “Common Dog, you coming?”

“I don’t want to, En-da,” cried Common Dog. “They will hang me.”

“They surely will now,” agreed Ender. “You killed a scout and shot down a trooper. You just pile dumbness on dumbness, don’t you? Now you’re coming along of me, like it or not. I’m already pissed at you over Sanza, don’t make it any worse.”

Granger had been wiping his bloody chin and watching Ender with glowering eyes. Ender felt the man’s fuming presence alongside and knew he was about to try something. He tore his eyes away from the other men to glance at Granger, who sneered and lunged at him. Granger grasped both barrels of the shotgun and pushed them down onto the bar.

“Get them, boys!” he shouted and both hunters went for their revolvers.

“Get clear!” Ender warned.

Peyote, still standing in the doorway, was facing Common Dog and had his back to the men and he leapt sideways at the shout and into the open outside the cabin. Common Dog ducked down behind the barrel at his end of the bar as the bullets started to fly. The hunters fired wildly, blazing away in all directions.

Ender released his hold on the shotgun and dropped into the open space below the bar, without hesitation he kicked out both feet and slammed his moccasin boots into Granger’s knees. The barkeep buckled, his legs giving way under him and he fell heavily to the floor.

The two hunters were still blasting away, the carbon and saltpeter in their cartridges releasing clouds of white smoke and the stink of sulfur into the enclosed space. Flame shot from their pistols and hot lead flew, chewing holes in the woodwork and exploding against the log wall behind Common Dog, who hugged the safety of the barrel.

One of them was yipping and yelling excitedly, “Don’t stop, let ’em have it all!”

Ender came over the top of the bar, rising into the smoke filled room and he swept up his shotgun, leveled it at the two men and fired with both barrels. The rain of shot flew out down the length of the bar, impacting in a concentrated cone of lead that swept both hunters from their feet. They tumbled against the wall behind and slid down into moaning heaps on the ground.

At the roar of the shotgun, Peyote stepped back into the cabin and completed the job with his Winchester, cranking the lever and pumping bullets into the two bodies until they were still. Ender was aflame, the adrenalin coursing through his veins and when Granger attempted to climb to his feet, Ender hit him with the empty shotgun on the back of the neck and he heard the bone snap as the big man dropped back down again and lay still. Ender breathed a long sigh to steady himself and popped open the shotgun and began to reload, his fingers trembling as he did so.

“Get out here, Common Dog!” he shouted.

The Indian slowly raised himself from hiding, his empty hands high and in plain sight. He watched them both carefully, his eyes wide with fear. Peyote was holding his Winchester on him and Ender could see the tenseness in Indian’s body.

“Steady, Peyote. We’re done here now.”

The Apache relaxed visibly but still kept his rifle trained on Common Dog.

“I’ve got it,” said Ender, bringing the reloaded shotgun up. “Go get the manacles.”

“Hear me….” Common Dog began to speak.

“Shut it!” roared Ender angrily, in no mood for more. “I’ve had enough.” He looked around the blasted room, with the crumpled figures lying dead amidst the clearing mists of gun smoke. “Wherever you go there’s grief, Common Dog.”

They chained up Common Dog and lifted him onto his saddle, and then the three of them rode back down the mountain trail.