8
They struck the cross trail the next afternoon. Fargo drew rein and dismounted. He was on a knee, the reins in his hand, when the rest of the column clattered to a stop.
“What have you found, scout?” Colonel Crowley asked.
Fargo nodded at the tracks. “Five unshod horses.”
“More whites pretending to be savages?” Major Hargrove said sarcastically.
“These are the real article,” Fargo said. “Comanches, a hunting party, maybe. They came from the west, saw the tracks we’ve been following, and went off to the east in a hurry.”
“Why in a hurry?” Colonel Crowley said.
Fargo straightened. “I think they have the same idea we do. They’re going to get more warriors and go after the bunch we’re after.”
“Or it could be,” Major Hargrove sneered, “that the ones we’re after are in fact Comanches and the ones who came on their trail are from another tribe and got the hell out of here.”
“That’s reasonable, isn’t it?” Colonel Crowley said.
“But unlikely,” Fargo said. “Most tribes fight shy of Comanche territory.”
“Be that as it may, I deem it worth investigating.” Crowley turned to Hargrove. “Major, take ten men and go after the five Indians.” He glanced at Fargo. “How long ago would you say they went by?”
“Not more than a couple of hours.”
“Excellent. Then the major won’t have any trouble catching up to them.”
Captain Baker cleared his throat. “And what is the major to do when he does, sir?”
“I’ll leave that up to the major,” Colonel Crowley said. “If they’re hostiles, he is to deal with them accordingly. If they are from a friendly tribe, he will let them be.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Fargo said.
“Why don’t you go with them?” Colonel Crowley suggested. “You know Indians better than any of us.”
Major Hargrove didn’t like that. “I’d rather he didn’t, sir. I don’t need a tracker to follow a trail this fresh.”
“I insist,” the colonel said.
Hargrove chose Corporal Brunk and nine troopers. They peeled from the column and prepared to ride off.
“Well?” Colonel Crowley said to Fargo. “Will you or won’t you?”
Fargo stared at the nine boys in their ill-fitting uniforms, each sitting tall and proud in the saddle. “Hell.” He climbed on the Ovaro.
“We’ll find a suitable spot to camp and wait for you,” Colonel Crowley said. “You shouldn’t have any trouble finding us.”
“Keep your eyes skinned,” Fargo said. He gigged the Ovaro and acquired a shadow. “You too?”
“My orders are where you go, I go,” Captain Baker said. “Besides, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Fargo alternated between a trot and a walk so as not to tire their animals more than was necessary. He secretly hoped dark would fall before they caught up and that those they were after would spot their campfire and escape into the night.
But an hour before sunset a pinpoint of orange light in a stretch of open country brought his hope crashing down. The Indians had stopped early.
“We’re in luck,” Major Hargrove said when the soldiers drew rein. “We’ll wait for the sun to set and sneak up on them and surround their camp.”
“You’re going to sneak up on Comanches?” Fargo said.
“Don’t come if you don’t want to.” Hargrove twisted in the saddle. “Corporal, see to it that each man’s carbine is loaded and that canteens and anything else that might make noise and give us away are left behind.”
“Yes, sir,” Brunk said.
Time crawled. Fargo squatted apart from the others. He was in no mood for talk but Captain Baker wouldn’t let it drop.
“Why are you so mad? We’re fairly good at what we do.”
“Comanches are more than fair.”
“There are thirteen of us and five of them. We make up in numbers what we lack in skill.”
“Keep thinking that.”
“Maybe they’ll hear us and run.”
“Maybe they’ll hear you and fight.”
The gray of twilight darkened. Stars sparkled and a crescent of moon appeared. A coyote yipped and was answered by another.
Major Hargrove had been excitedly pacing but now he stopped and faced his men. “Pay attention. I don’t want any mistakes. Be as quiet as you can. We’ll advance by twos until I give the order to spread out in a skirmish line. We will surround them and close in. No one is to talk above a whisper.” He paused. “Anyone have a question?”
“Why not let me go talk to them alone?” Fargo proposed.
“Do you speak Comanche?”
“Some.”
“Isn’t that interesting. What good would it do, though, you talking to them?”
“It could avoid bloodshed.”
“That will be up to the savages. And since, as you’ve pointed out, you’re a civilian, I prefer that you stay with the horses.”
“No,” Fargo said.
Hargrove hissed through his teeth. “Very well. But the same applies to you. Not a sound. And you will stay behind us so that you’re not caught in any cross fire. The colonel wouldn’t like that.”
Fargo didn’t like it, either, but he held his tongue.
When the soldiers moved out he came after them, Captain Baker at his side.
“For what it’s worth,” Baker whispered, “I’d have let you go talk.”
Half a mile was a lot of ground to cover. The troopers went slowly and carefully but they rustled the grass and brushed against the brush and a few times someone stumbled or tripped.
Major Hargrove brought them to a halt a hundred yards from the fire. Five figures were huddled around it, eating and talking.
Fargo moved up to Hargrove. “I told you they were Comanches. Let me go speak to them.”
“How can you tell which tribe from here?” Hargrove said. “And no, I won’t. This is a military operation and you will stop interfering.” He gave the command and his men quietly fanned out, their faces pale, their bodies rigid with dread.
Fargo had done all he could. He stayed where he was. Baker stayed with him.
The troopers moved as stealthily as they could, but they were forty yards out when a warrior at the fire stood and peered into the night.
“Uh-oh,” Captain Baker said.
The Comanche who had stood said something and the others leaped up. In the bat of an eye they were out of the firelight and in the dark. A horse whinnied.
“After them, men!” Major Hargrove bellowed. “Don’t let them get away!”
The troopers became rabbits, hopping and running. Carbines blasted. War whoops pierced the air. A trooper screamed and clutched a feathered shaft that jutted from his chest and collapsed. More guns boomed. Another man shrieked, his leg pierced. A third fell near the fire, a lance through his torso, convulsing violently. Then hooves drummed, rapidly fading. A few final whoops were raised in mockery. After that there was silence save for the cries of the dying and the wounded.
“Well, that went well,” Captain Baker said.
Disgust filled Fargo. “Stupid is as stupid does.” He began to back away unnoticed and when he had gone a dozen steps he turned and jogged. Behind him the captain shouted.
“Hey! Wait for me.”
Fargo needed to reach the horses and slip away before Hargrove could try to stop him. He ran faster.