The lone rider came slowly across the burning, empty plain toward Fort Cameron, Texas. Behind him stretched the Texas badlands, a dry, cruel land of eroded rock, sand and dust, towering mesas and flat plain. Ahead of him, far to the north-west, beyond the fort, lay the silent wilderness of the Llano Estacado: The Staked Plains.
It was mid-August. The time of white-hot days that brought with them a shimmering curtain of silence, shrouding the savage land and everything on it.
Up on the catwalk of the fort wall, a sentry had spotted the rider. He watched with red-rimmed, dull eyes as the man reined in his tired horse before the fort’s high double gates.
The rider looked up at the watching trooper.
‘Luke Kennick to see Colonel Broughton,’ he called.
The sentry signaled for the gates to be opened, turned and watched the rider guide his horse across the dusty parade ground and stop before the Company Headquarters Building.
A second sentry strolled over to the first one. He nodded down at the slowly dismounting rider. ‘I never thought Ld see Luke Kennick back at Fort Cameron.’
His companion grunted, leaned out over the wall and spat tobacco juice.
‘Wait ’til Griff McBride hears about it,’ he said.
Unaware of this interest in his arrival, Luke Kennick paused outside the door of the headquarters building to slap off some of the trail dust he’d accumulated. As he did, he glanced out over the parade ground. The place hadn’t changed much, he decided. A little more weathered, but otherwise the same.
Kennick knocked dust from his pants with a battered cavalryman’s hat. He hesitated a moment longer, a tall, lean man in his early thirties, marked by a life spent mostly beneath a hot sun. His thick fair hair was bleached near white. His face, shadowed by a five-day growth of beard, was almost the color of his saddle; a deep, red-tinged brown. His eyes were blue, a pale gray-blue. Normally, their expression was one of almost lazy indifference, but that could change in an instant into a flint-hard look that made an observer wonder if he were looking at the same man.
Abruptly Luke Kennick turned and opened the door of the headquarters building. He stepped into a small outer office that held filing cabinets and a desk. In the chair behind the desk sat a chunky, balding corporal, intently studying a pile of papers.
‘What’s the trouble, Cobb? Too many forms to sign?’ Kennick asked softly.
Cobb looked up, and his pleasant moon face cracked in a wide smile. ‘Lieutenant Kennick!’
Kennick took the man’s outstretched hand. ‘Hello, Cobb. And it’s Mister Kennick now. Has been for the past two and a half years.’
‘Sure doesn’t seem that long. Where’ve you been hiding yourself, anyhow?’
‘Spent sometime in the Dakotas, then moved to Wyoming to settle.’
‘We sure were sorry to see you go, sir.’
‘Yes, I know, and I’m grateful,’ Kennick said but his smile faded. Abruptly, he said, ‘The colonel’s expecting me, I think?’
Cobb got up off his chair. ‘I’ll tell him you’re here.’
He crossed to a door marked ‘Commanding Officer, Willis A. Broughton, Col.’ He knocked and went in. Kennick heard muffled conversation beyond the door, then Cobb stepped out again and signaled for him to enter.
Luke Kennick stepped into the inner office. He heard the door close behind him. Memories flooded back to him as he stood there, vivid, warm memories that belonged in this room, along with the wall maps and pennants and tintype portraits.
The commander of Fort Cameron sat behind an old oak desk. Colonel Broughton was an impressive figure. His uniform, as always, was immaculate despite the wilting heat. He looked as if he’d stepped from the pages of an academy yearbook: solid, dependable, tough, and one-hundred percent cavalryman. It had been one of Luke Kennick’s failings, that he’d never felt, never looked comfortable in those tight-fitting, stiff uniforms.
Broughton leaned back in his chair and eyed Kennick from beneath thick eyebrows. ‘At ease, Mr. Kennick,’ he said. Then he got up, walked around the desk and took Kennick’s hand. ‘Luke, it’s good to see you.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Broughton slapped him on the arm and stepped back. ‘Damned if you haven’t put on weight.’
‘You had a habit of keeping your officers on the move. Especially young lieutenants.’ Kennick grinned.
Broughton’s gray eyes sparkled. ‘I still do,’ he said. ‘Sit down, Luke. Drink?’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Kennick eased into a chair and let his tired muscles relax. He took the glass Broughton handed him, waited until the colonel was seated behind the desk. ‘Your health, sir.’
‘How’s it been, Luke?’
Kennick rolled the now empty glass between his hands. ‘It was rough to start with. I knew it would be. But once I’d convinced myself that moping around would do no good, I settled down and found things weren’t so bad.’
‘You bought yourself some land up around Laramie.’
Kennick nodded. ‘You’re looking at an honest-to-goodness cowman now. I’ve got a small herd getting fat on sweet Wyoming grass. Couple more years, if nothing goes wrong, I’ll have myself a real solid stake.’
Broughton rubbed his broad chin with a big hand. He studied Kennick soberly. It was obvious he was trying to come to some decision.
‘Luke, I’ll tell you why I asked you to come. I hate pussyfooting around. You know me—’ Kennick nodded, and Broughton went on, ‘Here it is then. You’ve heard about the latest Indian troubles, I suppose?’
‘Heard nothing else for weeks.’
‘The Comanche and Kiowa have gone on the worst rampage the territory has ever seen, Luke. It’s a bloodbath. The country’s in a panic. The Army’s being run off its feet trying to keep order. It’s the same old story, Luke. Not enough men, not enough supplies coming through.’
The colonel got up and paced the office. He stopped before the room’s only window, which faced out over the parade ground.
‘A month back one of our patrols ran into a bunch of Penetaka Comanche. There was a skirmish and all but two of the Indians were killed. These two were brought back to the fort and put in the stockade. They’d been there for three days before one of our Tonkawa scouts recognized one of them and came and told me....’
Broughton turned away from the window and faced Kennick. ‘Luke, one of those Comanches is Kicking Bear,’ he said very quietly.
Luke’s head came up as if someone had slapped him across the face. He stared at the colonel. When he spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper. ‘Kicking Bear! My God!’
Broughton sat down again. He picked up his pipe—an old one he’d had for years, from way back before the war—watched Luke over the bowl as he lit up.
‘We don’t know what Kicking Bear was doing with such a small band,’ Broughton said, talking around the stem of the pipe. I’m not particularly concerned either. The important thing is this: we’ve got him, and we intend to keep him.’
Luke frowned. ‘Have hostilities increased since you got him? His tribe must have realized he’s missing by now.’
‘So far, I don’t think they know he’s here. But I’m taking no chances. I’ve had patrols out night and day. Until Kicking Bear is off my hands, I’ll keep my patrols on the move, rousing every buck from here to hell and gone, so’s they don’t know their butts from their breechclouts.’
‘There’ll be hell to pay if they do find out Kicking Bear’s here. Every Comanche in Texas will be heading for Fort Cameron. In a straight line.’
Broughton nodded. ‘I know. And headquarters must be thinking the same. I’ve had orders to get Kicking Bear out of Cameron. He’s to be taken, secretly, to a prearranged spot along the Brazos and handed over to a detail from Fort Worth. They’ll take him somewhere else to await trial by a military court.’
He drew on his pipe, and watched Kennick, waiting for a reaction.
‘Brazos is a hell of a long way to take someone secretly,’ Kennick said slowly. ‘How do you expect a troop of cavalry to make it without the Comanches catching on?’
‘There’ll be no troop, Luke. Just Kicking Bear—and one man to escort him.’
Luke Kennick stiffened visibly. Outside on the sun baked parade ground a troop of mounted cavalrymen trotted toward the fort gates.
Colonel Broughton cleared his throat, put down his pipe. ‘I’d like that one man to be you, Luke,’ he said quietly. ‘I want you to take Kicking Bear. Alone.’