Chapter Five

 

 

Ender realized his nerves were shot.

He guessed he still had not fully recovered from his meeting with the Quinlan’s and his subsequent arduous escape. His chest hurt where the contracted skin from his wounds had been pulled taught and his head ached from the tension. He slowly tried to unravel his mind as they travelled in silent file through the wooded slopes of the mountain range.

They were riding through some pleasant and peaceful country with fine views through the trees and it was like a balm to Ender’s troubled mind. He considered he was being a mite hard on Common Dog. Everything that had befallen the Indian was outside his control and he had responded as only an Apache could. The attack on Common Dog by Jed Quinlan had been an act of self-defense on the Indian’s part; the erection of gallows pre-trial had been like an assured death sentence. He doubted, on thinking about it, if he would have responded any different himself. The deaths of Granger and his cronies back at the cabin could not be laid at his door either, that had been their own choice.

Now, he was bringing the Indian in to face a probable death sentence if not a long prison term that would most certainly be the death of him anyway. Nothing felt right about it.

Ender softened. He decided the least he could do was swing by the ranch and allow Common Dog to visit with his sisters for a while.

“Common Dog,” he said. “I’m going to take you down to see Catowitch and Delsay before we bring you in. You give me your word you won’t try and escape and we’ll take the chains off when we get there. That a deal?”

“Thank you, En-da. I will not escape.”

They rode on apace and Ender felt the lessening of tension in his body as his more reasonable attitude came into play. He was right in his thinking, he was sure of it and he affirmed his earlier intention of doing all he could for the Indian when it came to trial. It such a mood he led the way down through the lower reaches of the mountains and into the foothills.

It was Peyote who gave the first warning.

“Smoke, En-da,” he said sniffing the air.

Ender snapped his head up and looked at the horizon. They were coming out from the enclosing cliffs of the foothills and for the first time had a clear view of the land to the south. He saw it then. A pillar of smoke, rising tall in the windless air.

“Oh, dear God!” he whispered. “It’s the ranch.”

 

They approached the still smoldering ruin at an easy pace. Each of them knew there was no point in coming in faster. The Apache had seen it all before, it was the burnt-earth policy of the whites and they knew nothing would be left standing.

The cornfields had been set alight and the flames had ripped through the drying stalks burning them up quickly and Ender and the others came in through a sea of gray ash. The vegetable patches had been churned under horse’s hooves and Ender could see the remains of dead cattle lying scattered in the outlying fields.

But it was the log cabin that Ender centered his attention on. The roof had collapsed inwards and the heavy log walls still burned, flames licking around the upper rim.

Both women were dead.

They had been stripped and hung up on the porch, their naked bodies blackened and crisped by the roaring fire. Neither were a pretty sight, the figures were parodies of the human frame each one twisted and distorted by the intense heat. Delsay’s ropes had burnt through and she lay amidst the remains of the porch in a fetal coil. Catowitch still hung by the ropes at her wrists, tied to the charred porch roof, which sagged ominously.

Ender dismounted in a daze and stood staring at what had once had been his beautiful wife, now a cruel imitation of her former self. A gaping face stared back at him, the mouth stretched wide in rictus under empty eye sockets. Her long hair was gone and the ravaged skin across her frame had curled back leaving intestinal seepage to leaking down in pink runnels from the cracked flesh. It appeared her breasts had been cut off before death.

The two Indians were standing alongside him but Ender was not aware of their presence. They all stood in a state of silent shock at the devastation.

When Ender spoke it was little more than a croak.

“Quinlan!” was all he said.

 

In the normal way, the girls should have been dressed in their best clothes and their faces painted then they would have been wrapped in a rich blanket.

It was not possible though with the bodies so brittle and badly ruined. Women were brought from the reservation and they did their best. It was usual to give away all the dead one’s possessions but everything had been burnt in the fire so that was not possible either.

They were taken into the mountains, the pair carried on a single travois with the reservation women trailing along beside the bodies, wailing and crying. Even Common Dog’s woman, Sigesh was there amongst them, her child carried in her arms and for once one of the tribe.

A small cave was found and the blanket wrapped sisters placed inside, then Ender, Peyote and Common Dog filled in the opening with rocks.

They sat outside silently for long hours. The women finally trailing away back to the reservation as night approached. Peyote lit a fire and the three continued their vigil. Each one remembering what they could of the two women.

As dawn lightened the sky, Ender prodded the fire alive and spoke for the first time.

“I know what I must do,” he said.

“We must have blood,” interrupted Common Dog with an air of certainty. “It is war now. I will kill many whites.”

Ender knew the simple outlook that filled Common Dog’s mind, to his way of thinking his kin had been murdered by white men so the white men must pay, whoever and wherever they were.

“No, Common Dog, it is only certain ones that are responsible and it is they that must pay.”

“Who then?” asked Common Dog.

“It is the rancher Quinlan and his men. But they are many, he has an army. I have seen them. We are a few, it must be done with cunning.”

“So how will you do this?” asked Peyote.

“It is not your fight,” said Ender. “These are not your family.”

“You are my family, En-da. We are brothers, I will be with you in this.”

“Thank you, my friend”

“Hah! It is good,” Common Dog clapped both hands together. “We will kill this Quinlan. I have slain his brother now I will kill him too.”

“Not so easy,” said Ender. “But this must be done the Apache way, that is for certain sure. The soldiers will not help us even though this man has broken the law and killed innocent people. He is too rich and powerful and has many friends in high places so it is we alone that must do this thing.”

“What do you have in mind? You have a plan?” asked Peyote.

“I do,” said Ender. “I have been thinking of little else when I have not been thinking of Catowitch and Delsay. We shall collect weapons and ride south if you will come with me. Then I shall tell you how it will be.”

The two others grunted acceptance and they kicked out the fire and leading the travois pony they began the long walk back to the ranch where the other horses were tethered.

 

Ender went first to Fort Bowie, as he needed a favor.

He was in the office talking with Sergeant Giltrap when the Major came out and spotted him.

“Can’t say how sorry I am for your loss, Mister Smith,” he sympathized.

“You going to do anything about it?” Ender was short with the Major, he already knew the answer and had determined that he could expect no help from the authorities.

“I will make a report of the affair and have it sent direct to Washington,” the Major offered limply. He compressed his lips and looked apologetic. “I’ll be straight with you, Mister Smith. I don’t reckon much will come of it though.”

Ender nodded, a bitter expression on his face. “I know, Quinlan is too well connected and what’s the lives of a couple of Indian squaws amount to anyway?”

The Major picked up on the tone and took a sterner attitude. “I trust you don’t intend doing anything rash?”

“I’ve got nothing rash at all in mind, sir,” Ender allowed truthfully.

“That’s good to hear. We wouldn’t want our local law officer going off alone on a personal vigilante raid. That wouldn’t do at all.”

“Wouldn’t dream of going it alone, Major,” promised Ender, again truthful as he thought of his two companions awaiting him back at the ranch.

“Very well, carry on then and make sure you bring in that damned runaway, will you?” The Major bustled off to call on his engineering officer, followed by an orderly with a folder of yet more construction plans.

“He’ll be busy for a while,” Giltrap assured. “What is it you need?”

“Weapons,” said Ender shortly.

“So you will be making a show of it then?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“I suppose I would,” sighed Giltrap. “It’s an awful awesome odds that you face though, m’boy. I hear tell the wretched man has the worst sort of fellows down there to help him out.”

“Is there a Sharps in the fort anywhere?” asked Ender, ignoring his assessment of the dangers.

“A Sharps! Now that’s smart,” allowed Giltrap. “Some long range shooting is a good plan. There is an enlisted lad here, used to be a buffalo hunter until they ran out of buffalo, now he’s on a charge, knocked down from lance corporal and sweeping up doo-dah in the stables. Might be he’ll part with his old gun.”

“Will you take me to the fellow?”

“Surely. Come along I’ll take you there now.”

He was a tall auburn haired man with deep brown eyes that had a sad look to them and he was raking up mire stained straw in an empty stall in the officer’s stables. He wore a blue bib-fronted blouse that some of the troops paid out for from their own money and it was open down the front against the heat in the enclosed stable.

“Trooper Ryan!” called Giltrap as they entered. “Someone here to see you.”

Ryan looked up from his work slowly and squinted his eyes at the two silhouettes standing in the doorway.

“Sergeant?” he said, leaning on his rake.

“A quiet word,” said Giltrap. “I have a friend here who would be interested in purchasing that old Sharps rifle you have.”

Ryan paused thoughtfully, staring at Ender’s outline. “And why would I want to be separated from a perfectly fine weapon?’

“Because I’ll give you good money for it,” said Ender.

“I had that rifle made personal for me up at Bismark,” said Ryan. “Cost me one hundred dollars.”

“I’ll give you two.”

“Two hundred dollars!” Ryan blew a whistle. “You must want that gun awful bad.”

Ender waited silently as Ryan thought it over.

“You’re that Marshal and scout, ain’t you?” he said. “Lost your lady recently.”

“I am.”

Ryan leaned both hands on the rake top and looked keenly at Ender. “I heard what they did. I don’t have much liking for the red man but that was cruel and unnecessary to my way of thinking. Cowardly even. I guess somebody is going to have to pay for that,” he paused waiting for an answer but Ender said nothing. “Tell you what, mister. I won’t sell her to you, I have too much affection for that gun but I will loan her you. You do your business and bring that ‘Betsy’ back safe to me and we’ll say no more about it.”

Ender smiled thinly. “I’ll do it.”

“She’s a fifteen pounder with a telescopic sight, fires a .45 caliber shell and she shoots damned straight and over a fair distance.”

“Sounds good enough, why don’t we say a fifty dollar rental fee?”

“Okay, I’ll go fetch her, there’s a box of ammo too, if you’ve a mind.”

“If you can keep it out of sight I’d appreciate it,” said Ender. “Wrap her in a sack or something, will you?”

“My little beauty comes clothed in a watertight fringed buckskin sleeve,” Ryan chuckled.

“Very well, get ye along, Ryan,” said Giltrap, looking around to see if anybody was listening. “You’re now relieved of stable duty and I think you just earned yourself back your stripe into the bargain.”

“Why, thank you, Sergeant.”

“Say nothing to no one,” warned Giltrap.

Throwing his rake aside the trooper hurried from the stable.

“Seems a right nice fellow,” Ender allowed, pleased with the result.

Giltrap shrugged indifferently, “Fair enough, I suppose. Now, is there anything else you’ll be wanting?”

“Just one more thing….”