5

Dave knew from past trips that the long haul from Pappa-Jack Layton’s place to King’s Wells was the hottest and most uncomfortable part of the trip to Whipple. There were stretches of malpais and blown sand that required double-teaming, as had been done the first day out of Ehrenburg. This in turn demanded that the escort, the ambulance, with Juliana driving, and the supply wagon, with Thornton at the reins, halt in the broiling afternoon sun. The glare off the sand and rock was close to blinding, especially in the stretches of blow sand.

It was after Dave had bulled the second wagon through a stretch of sand and was returning for the third that he passed the ambulance where Juliana was slacked on the seat. Her hand shaded her closed eyes, but Dave saw that her face was flushed. He handed over the reins of the eight mules to his teamster and walked over to the ambulance, which Juliana had pulled off the road. It was even too hot for visiting, Dave observed, as he saw Thornton limply sprawl out on the seat of the supply wagon.

At Dave’s approach Juliana looked up and a faint hostility came into her eyes. Dave pulled down the neckerchief from his face and said, “Miss Juliana, do you have a veil or a big handkerchief in your gear?”

“Why, I think I could find one.”

“Then you should tie it across your face. You’re getting sunburned.”

“But I haven’t been in the sun all day,” Juliana protested.

“You don’t have to be in the sun. The glare off this sand can burn you as badly as direct sunlight.”

“Is that why you and your men always have your neckerchiefs over your faces?”

“That, and the dust our teams kick up.”

Juliana nodded. “How much longer must we travel today?”

Dave thought a moment and answered, “Till about dark, I’d judge.” Then he added, “Don’t expect much when we come to King’s Wells.”

“How do you mean that?”

“There are only a few cottonwoods around a caved-in spring. There’s an adobe building, but it’s abandoned and full of snakes and scorpions.”

“Abandoned?”

“The stage line gave up trying to stock it after they lost three station tenders and all the stock.”

“Indians?”

When Dave only nodded, Juliana glanced off at the uneven desert floor that held nothing but greasewood, rock mounds, and cactus. She said softly, “This is a cruel, cruel country, isn’t it, Dave?”

“It never lets up on you,” Dave agreed.

Juliana gave him a searching glance. “Maybe that explains you,” she said quietly.

At that moment Sergeant Noonan rode up and said pleasantly, “They’re waiting for you, Mister Harmon.”

“Remember the veil,” Dave said, and went along. He passed the supply wagon and did not even look at Thornton, nor did Thornton look at him. He saw that Everts, on his pallet of blankets, was sleeping, and then he moved on.

Sergeant Noonan rode up to his side, pulled a foot from his stirrup, and said agreeably, “Climb up behind.” Dave accepted his offer and swung up behind him.

“This is a good horse you’re riding, Sergeant.”

Noonan half turned his head. “I think he is, but I haven’t had him out of a slow walk yet.”

“Plan to race him? He looks like he could.”

“I reckon I might. Prescott’s a gambling town.”

The horse labored sturdily through the deep, soft sand with his double burden. Noonan then turned his head and, pointing to the sand, said, “You’ve got something broke in that last wagon that went through. See those spots like coal oil every once in a while?”

“It’s those Army rifles. They’re still draining the packing grease.”

Noonan simply said, “Oh, so that’s it,” in a disinterested voice.

Back at the wagons they spent another idle half-hour while the remaining wagons were double-teamed across the blow sand. Afterwards, when Dave climbed into his saddle and got his team in motion behind the supply wagon, he recalled his conversation with Juliana Frost. In reply to his observation that the country never lets up on you she had said, Maybe that explains you. What had she meant by that, he wondered. Was it in reference to their discussion about Thornton and Dave’s refusal to give an inch to Thornton’s demands? Was she implying that this cruel country had made him cruel, too? He supposed she was, and he wondered if there was more than a grain of truth in her statement. To him Thornton was simply a willful man who threatened to stand in the way of a necessary job. No, that’s not quite honest, he thought. The truth of the matter was that Thornton merely annoyed him and that, in turn, he had been unnecessarily sharp with him.

Why had he let himself be annoyed? Thornton was merely a soft, undoubtedly sharp trader who lived in a world of ledgers that had no appeal to Dave. Or did his annoyance stem from the fact that Juliana Frost seemed to like Thornton, maybe with a fondness that could be called love? In plainer words, was he jealous of Thornton?

The thought was sobering. If he was jealous of Thornton, maybe that also explained his impatience with Juliana, who seemed to favor Thornton over himself.

For the first time in months Dave made a close examination of himself, and unconsciously raised his gloved hand to touch his eyepatch. Since his accident in the closing days of the war he had accepted the fact that he was something of a freak. Given the choice of two personable men, one with one eye, the other with two, a normal girl would choose the latter, Dave thought. And, believing this, he had not sought out attractive women, nor had he avoided them. He had merely accepted the fact that to an attractive woman, as to the Army, he was somehow flawed. In sum then, he was forced to admit to himself that he was attracted to Juliana Frost, that she was attracted to John Thornton, and that in consequence he was jealous of Thornton and impatient with Juliana. Now I know, he thought wryly. It took me three days to figure it out, but now I know.

It was late afternoon when the train could see ahead a slight change both in color and shape of the flat horizon. It became irregular, not quite hilly. Instead of the sand-to-gray color of the country they were passing through, there was a shimmering thin line of black which puzzled Lieutenant Overman. He checked his flankers, who were barely in sight, then dropped back from the side of the ambulance and let Harmon’s wagon pull abreast of him. Over the noise of the creaking, jolting freight wagon he pulled up to Harmon’s mule. “What’s ahead of us?” he asked.

Dave yanked down his neckerchief and said, “Malpais. A mile-long stretch of it.”

Lieutenant Overman nodded his acknowledgment of this information and then moved on ahead, passed the supply wagon and the ambulance and went on toward Sergeant Noonan in the point position. When he reached Noonan, he reined in to match the pace of the sergeant’s horse.

“That’s malpais, isn’t it, Sergeant?”

“Right, sir. Wicked, too, and hot.”

Lieutenant Overman looked ahead, studying the uneven skyline. He knew, but only by hearsay, that malpais, or bad rock, was of volcanic origin and was apt to be a jumbled mass of solidified lava that was all sizes and forms. He also knew that its razor-sharp edges could wear through a foot soldier’s boots in a half-day’s time. What he didn’t know was how well a shod horse could handle the malpais.

“What’s the road through it like, Noonan?” Overman asked.

“It’s rough, sir, but not bad. Blow sand has kind of leveled it off.” He shook his head. “I’ve heard the stage line spent plenty of powder to make it.”

Lieutenant Overman persisted, “What’s it like away from the road?”

Noonan looked at him and smiled. “Never heard of anyone trying it, sir.”

Lieutenant Overman thought about this a moment, then said, “Looks like I pull my flankers in.”

Noonan appeared to consider this, and then he shrugged. “It’s your choice, Lieutenant. My guess is you’d be safe if you did. If a ’Pache put a barefoot pony into it off the road, he’d have to shoot ’im within the hour. His feet would be a bloody mush.”

Overman nodded slowly. “What about men using the road to get into it, then forting up off the road?”

Noonan laughed. “An ’Pache moccasin hasn’t been made that will go far in that rock. Besides, sir, ’Paches aren’t much good fighting afoot. They like horses and a lot of space. They wouldn’t have either of them in there.”

“I’m not thinking about Apaches, Sergeant. The dead man wasn’t an Apache that we found this morning.”

Noonan said fervently, “Not by a long shot, he wasn’t.” He looked at Overman, his face showing concern. “Still, the only white men we’ve seen today were on the stage or on the stage escort.” He hesitated. “Outside of Layton, his hostler, and that crazy prospector.”

It was Overman’s turn to concede, and he nodded agreement. “How do you figure that raid last night, Sergeant?”

Noonan shrugged again. “I think I know what they’d tell you at Whipple, Lieutenant. You see the placers at La Paz are mostly shut down. The boys working them are hanging around Ehrenburg without work or money to get out. At Whipple they figure the first day out of Ehrenburg or the last day into it is where trouble will happen. These miners gang up and will raid anything if they’re strong enough. A day or so out of Ehrenburg and it’s Indians you watch out for, not them.”

“Why’s that, Sergeant?”

“Simple, Lieutenant. The miners got no money for horse feed and no money for grub. They’re too broke to stay out longer than overnight.”

Lieutenant Overman turned this information over in his mind and it seemed to make sense. At this moment he wished fervently that Sergeant Noonan could be permanently under him. Here was a man who used his ears and eyes and who was full of information that he did not volunteer unless it was asked for. He was, Overman thought, the ideal type of non-commissioned officer—wise, willing, and seasoned.

By this time they were drawing near the malpais, and through the waves of heat that distorted everything in the distance Overman could see the jagged and wildly upended surfaces of the malpais. He said then, “Slack up a little, Sergeant, and wait for us at the malpais. I’ll call the flankers in.”

The lieutenant turned and rode back to the train, and Noonan felt a surge of quiet elation. He thought the lieutenant had believed him, and in fact everything Noonan had told him was true. The flankers, even on shod horses, would take an interminable time winding through that mass of malpais. Overman had no choice but to stick to the road.

If Kirby and his men had circled them during the day and were now forted up in the malpais, this would be easy. It would be simple enough to let the train get well into the malpais, shoot a lead horse on the first wagon and one on the rear wagon, thus blocking passage either way. Then it would be simple enough to pick off the detail from a higher vantage point. Once the escort was gone, Noonan didn’t doubt that Harmon and his teamsters would surrender.

Dave Harmon had been regarding the malpais, too, and he was wondering how Lieutenant Overman would handle this. When he heard Overman’s single rifle shot signaling in the flankers, a faint apprehension touched him. Overman was only doing what necessity dictated, but Dave knew that if the train was to be attacked, this would be the place for it. They would have no warning of the attack because the flankers were pulled in. They could not fort up or retreat because on that narrow road there was not room enough to turn the teams and wagons between the walls of the malpais.

He asked himself: Did he really think there was danger of attack? He simply didn’t know. All day long he had watched the desert for signs of riders skirting them. He had seen nothing, but that didn’t prove a thing.

They were close to the malpais when Overman signaled a halt. He rode back, passed Juliana and Thornton, and reined in beside Dave.

“I think we ought to take this as fast as your teams can make it, Harmon. You agree?”

“Expecting trouble?” Dave asked mildly. He was curious as to Overman’s opinion of the situation.

“Not really,” Overman said. Then he told Dave of Sergeant Noonan’s modest judgment, which seemed to be the opinion of the Fort Whipple people who were used to escorting wagon trains and coaches—that danger of attack from all except Indians lay a day out of Ehrenburg.

When he had finished, Dave nodded, then said, “But there’s always the exception, Dick.”

Overman looked puzzled. “We’ve seen nothing today to cause alarm. I’ve questioned my flankers closely. They saw nothing.”

Dave was silent, and his silence brought a faint expression of uneasiness to Overman’s thin face. In self-justification, Overman said, “We’ve got to go through this if there’re a hundred men in there; Dave. There’s no way around it.”

“True,” Dave said quietly. “It all depends on how we go through it.”

Overman frowned. “How we go through it? I don’t see what you mean.”

“Why, if the whole train is trapped in there, we’re in for trouble.” He paused to emphasize what came next “Why not send one wagon at a time through it? Under full escort, of course. If the first wagon gets through and the escort returns safely, then send the second. At some stage of the game they’ll have to commit themselves, won’t they?”

Overman thought about this. “What if half the wagons get through, then they attack the next one? Our party will be split.”

“We still have the advantage,” Dave said. “We’ll have men on either side of them. Then we attack.”

Slowly Overman’s scowl of concentration erased itself. “Thunderation, you’re right! That’s the way we should do it. We’ll have Miss Juliana and Thornton wait till the last, since we’ll know by then if there’s any danger.” Overman sighed, and then gave a friendly grin. “I can see why you made a captaincy at your age, Dave.”

Dave said nothing.

Overman sat lost in thought. When he spoke it was in a tone of command. “In case anything happens to me I want you to take command. Will you do that for me?”

“Of course,” Dave said. “I’d just as soon my wagon didn’t go first, though.” At Overman’s look of puzzlement, Dave said, “My wagon has most of the rifles. Let it be number three wagon. By that time we’ll know where we stand.”

“Good idea,” Overman said. “Choose your wagon and teamster to send through first.”

Dave tied his jerkline to his saddle horn, stepped out of the saddle, and went back to the wagon behind him and stopped beside the mounted teamster.

“Bailey, we’re going through this malpais one at a time, under full escort. The lieutenant says I come last, so that’s the way it’s got to be. You’ll go first, so pull out around me.”

The teamster spoke laconically. “He expecting trouble?”

“No, he’s just preparing for it.” The driver nodded. Dave started the lead horse around the other wagon and watched it pass his own wagon, Thornton’s supply wagon, and Juliana’s ambulance, and then pull up for the escort to gather. He followed the wagon and halted beside Overman’s horse. The trooper who had been driving Everts’ wagon was again mounted on his own horse.

Overman said quietly to Dave, “If you hear any shooting, don’t come after us. After all, if there is any fighting it’ll be for the stuff in your wagons. If we’re all trapped in there they’ll get the wagons.”

“All right,” Dave said. He added quietly, “Luck to you,” and turned and started back toward his wagon. As he passed the ambulance Juliana said, “What’s going on, Dave?” He noted she had a veil over her face, as he had suggested. Now she unpinned it.

Thornton, who was standing in the blazing heat drinking from his canteen, saw Dave stop, and he came over in time to hear Dave say, “We’re going through singly. The escort will take one wagon through, then come back for the next.”

“Why, it’ll take all night,” Thornton said wearily. “What’s behind this decision?”

“High rock overlooking a narrow road,” Dave said mildly.

“What do you mean by that?” Juliana asked.

Patience was in Dave’s tone of voice as he answered, “Why, if we’re going to be attacked again like we were last night, this is the ideal place for the ambush.”

A startled look came into Juliana’s eyes. “You don’t think—why, nobody’s passed us today.”

“Miss Juliana, all Dick is doing is playing it as safe as he can. Probably nothing will happen, but he owes it to all of us not to take a chance,” Dave said.

“That’s absolutely the most preposterous thing I ever heard,” Thornton said.

“That’s a fairly preposterous statement in itself,” Dave said coldly.

“Is it?” Thornton said quickly. “Juliana has just told you why it’s preposterous. Isn’t it true that nobody’s passed us today? Have the flankers seen anything?”

Dave said mildly, “Thornton, you must come from a part of the country that’s timbered.”

“What’s that got to do with it?” Thornton challenged.

“In timbered country anything moving sticks to the road. Here in the West we use the road only when it’s the shortest distance between places.”

“What is it you’re trying to tell him?” Juliana asked.

“That anyone could have ridden around us and not have been seen,” Dave said, still mildly.

Thornton snorted in disgust. “How will going singly help prevent trouble?”

When Dave told him, Thornton said promptly, “I’m willing to take Juliana’s ambulance through this stretch and come back. If Overman will let me, I’ll prove you’ve let your imagination get the better of your judgment.”

“Go ask him,” Dave said.

“I’ll do that!” Thornton said sharply. He left them and went past Bailey’s freight wagon and halted by Lieutenant Overman. Dave and Juliana watched their brief conversation.

“Doesn’t John’s suggestion make sense?” Juliana asked. “It would get us into King’s Wells a lot sooner.”

“If there are men in there, why would they shoot or even stop Thornton? Why would they show themselves to him?” He paused and added drily, “Thornton can’t be sold. What’s in the wagons can.”

Now Thornton headed back toward them, and outrage was reflected in his stiff-legged walk. Coming up to the ambulance, he spoke to Juliana. “I was refused permission to try.” There was derision in his voice, and now he looked at Dave. “I’m told you’re in command while Lieutenant Overman and the detail are gone.”

Dave nodded.

“Don’t try and command me,” Thornton warned. “You’re a civilian and I’m a civilian. I’ll do what I please.”

Lieutenant Overman’s order to mount broke off their conversation. The detail headed toward the break in the malpais and Bailey’s teams got his wagon in motion. Two troopers dropped in behind him and in a matter of minutes they were out of sight at a bend of the road.

Kirby waited impatiently in the scalding heat of the malpais. It was too hot to sit down, and the heat from the rocks that came through the soles of his boots was almost unbearable. His lookout had told him half an hour ago that the train was nearing the malpais. But where was it? Earlier he and his men had passed down this road and had left their horses at King’s Wells, which was on the eastern edge of the malpais. Now he had his men distributed on either side of the road, with orders to keep themselves hidden and to hold their fire until he shot first.

They had had a hard, hot ride from Layton’s and they had not spared their horses. There would be plenty of fresh horses for them after this was over, he had told his men.

Brick had certainly picked an ideal spot, Kirby thought with grudging admiration. The whole train could be trapped here and easily overwhelmed, for his men had the enormous advantage of cover and height.

Now Kirby cocked his head and listened. In moments came the sound of many hoofbeats. Kirby smiled. He crouched lower and peered through the space between two irregular chunks of malpais. The train was approaching the spot directly below him. He could hear the heavy jolting of the wagon as it lumbered over the rock-floored road, and presently the officer commanding the detail came into sight. Behind him was a pair of troopers.

Another pair of troopers passed, then the teams, wagon, and the two troopers bringing up the rear. One of the latter was Brick Noonan, his sergeant’s stripes plain.

Kirby waited for the second wagon, but it did not come. The racket made by the first wagon was slowly diminishing in volume, yet there was no sound of a following wagon. Kirby felt a swift uneasiness. What had happened? If the wagons were strung out far apart, then the first wagon would be past his last man before the last wagon was even with him.

He decided to risk a look, and he rose and peered over the rock at the stretch of road in the direction from which the wagon had come.

The road was empty.

Kirby had to come to an immediate decision. With unerring instinct he guessed the strategy they were using against possible attack—one wagon at a time. In those few moments he weighed the proper course of action. He did not know if the wagon passing contained the rifles; he did know that he could not afford to let it through. If he stopped it and the rifles weren’t in it, then he could play his hole card; he could keep the whole train from water, without which they couldn’t live. That being so, there was one other thing he had to do.

He swung his rifle up and took a careful sight on Brick Noonan’s back. With eventual victory clearly in sight he did not intend to share the loot with Noonan. As he sighted, he thought, You’re a sucker, Brick; then he squeezed the trigger. He could see Noonan driven over onto his horse’s neck.

Lieutenant Overman scarcely had time to register the sound of the shot before all hell broke loose. He saw at one swift glance that they were shooting at his detail from both sides, front and rear. The lead horse of the freight team gave a shrill cry and went down, thrashing wildly and panicking the other teams. Overman knew instantly that the wagon was lost, and that if they stayed to fight this out the whole detail would be wiped out. Wheeling his horse and snapping a shot up the hill at a puff of smoke, Overman shouted, “Back! Back!”

Riding low over his horse’s neck, he sped past the wagon. The other troopers, firing wildly at no visible target, preceded him. Lieutenant Overman skirted the downed horse and reined in beside the freight wagon. Bailey, the freighter, was marooned on his motionless mule. “Get behind me!” Overman said. A bullet whomped into the side of the wagon as the freighter scrambled out of the saddle and got up behind Overman.

Ahead of him Overman could see all his troopers save one were flattened in their saddles over the necks of their galloping horses; the one exception was Sergeant Noonan. His well-trained horse was standing, awaiting a command from the reins. Noonan was slumped over, his right hand clamping his left shoulder.

Overman seized the cheek strap of Noonan’s horse, turned him, and then cut the horse viciously across the rump with his gauntlets. The horse lunged, and Noonan barely managed to stick to the saddle as the horse went into a gallop.

Now Overman spurred his own horse savagely and the bullets seemed to be hunting them out. Bailey, whose arms were around his waist, suddenly clamped him with a savage grip that almost cracked his ribs. Overman knew that Bailey was hit, and he prayed that the man could hold on until they were out of danger.

Bullets were ricocheting off rocks on either side of them and Overman felt a sudden hurtful slam in his thigh. In a moment then they were out of range and the firing died down.

Overman turned in the saddle and said over his shoulder, “Are you hurt?”

“Got a broke arm, I think.”

Only then did Overman realize that it was Bailey’s left arm that was clasping him. There was no pressure at all from the right arm. His own leg still stung from the ricochet.

Ahead of him his reined-in troopers were waiting.

When the fusillade began, the sound of it came plainly to the train. The teamsters were gathered in a group by themselves in the shade of the wagons. Dave and John Thornton were standing on either side of the ambulance that held Juliana.

It was Thornton who spoke first, and with excitement. “We’d better get in there and help them!”

“Overman said not to,” Dave said mildly.

“Are you going to let them be butchered?” Thornton asked hotly.

Dave looked at him coldly across Juliana. “That’s one of the things you sign up for when you join the Army.” Dave turned and called to his men, “Get your rifles, boys.” Then to Juliana he said, “If anybody but the military comes out of that cut, Miss Juliana, I want you to climb into the front corner of my wagon. There’s a place made for you in the freight. Thornton, here’s my pistol.” He gave his hand gun to Thornton, who accepted it reluctantly.

By now the firing had ceased, and Dave waited impatiently. The sun was almost down and it cast long grotesque shadows ahead of them. He was thankful now that his wagon with the rifles had been held back. The kegs of nails, the barrels of flour, the horseshoes, and the bolts of calico that were in the first wagon wouldn’t stack up to much loot for the attackers.

Now plainly visible in the low sun, the troopers came out of the cut. Dave counted them and saw one horse and rider being led and a pair riding double. As they approached Dave saw that it was Noonan’s horse that was being led.

Turning to Juliana, he said, “We’ve got at least one hurt man, Miss Juliana.” Then he went out to meet the troopers and Thornton followed him. Juliana turned in her seat to reach for her valise and the clothing in it that she would tear up for bandages.

Lieutenant Overman reined in. His slim face held a quiet rage as he said, “Better move your teamster over in the supply wagon, Dave. This man’s hurt badly. Sergeant Noonan got it, too.”

Without speaking, Dave went back to the supply wagon, followed by the detail and Juliana. Lieutenant Overman called over his shoulder, “Mister Thornton, please keep an eye on that road. If anybody comes out of it, warn us.”

Once Everts was moved to one side, Bailey was laid out on the pallet. Noonan was helped down off his horse and was propped up against the wheel of the supply wagon. His blouse was stained with blood from a shoulder wound.

While Juliana and Dave splinted up Bailey’s smashed arm with slats ripped off the cases of canned goods, Overman and one of the troopers attended Noonan’s wound. The bullet had gone into Noonan’s shoulder through the heavy muscle, had broken his collarbone, and lay just under the skin of his upper chest. He seemed to Overman to be in a state of shock. Overman first split the skin over the bullet with his knife, and removed the bullet. He washed the wound and bandaged it, and then made a sling for Noonan’s left arm out of his trooper’s neckerchief. Through all of it Noonan did not utter a sound of pain, nor did he talk. He accepted the canteen of water and drank from it, but it was as if the bullet had stricken him dumb.

Lieutenant Overman called over to the troopers who were describing the attack to the teamsters. “Cleary, relieve Mister Thornton. You’ll act as sentry until relieved.”

Overman caught Dave’s eye and motioned toward the empty ambulance. When Dave left the supply wagon, Juliana followed him. Thornton, relieved by the trooper, headed for the ambulance, too, so that all four met there. Lieutenant Overman then told them briefly of the ambush.

“How many guns would you judge?” Dave asked.

“A dozen, Dave, maybe more, but I wasn’t taking time to count them.” He looked at them all now, and said, “You can see what our situation is. We’re blocked from water. They have the commanding position and I don’t think we can dig them out with twice the men we have available. Do you, Dave?”

“No,” Dave said. He looked about him in the dusk. “I don’t want to interrupt you, Dick, but we’re wide open for a raid here. Can we get our wagons corralled and the stock inside before dark?”

“You’re right,” Overman said. “We’ll talk afterwards.”

By full dark the wagons were formed in a circle with the animals inside it. Sentries were out and two fires were going. Then Juliana, Dave, Overman, and Thornton, while the coffee came to a boil, drew together again. It was Thornton who came up to the fire last. In his once white shirt, his townsman’s trousers and shoes, he looked grotesquely out of place, Dave thought.

And it was Thornton who spoke first. “Lieutenant, may I make a suggestion in all good faith?”

“Why, of course.”

Thornton looked carefully at the three of them and then asked rhetorically, “What are these men after that attacked us?”

“Why, our rifles, of course,” Overman said.

“Then why don’t we give the rifles to them?” Before anyone could answer him, Thornton went on. If we give them the rifles they’ll let us alone. They’ll let us go through to water.”

This was such an amazing and unlooked-for suggestion that all of them were silent. Thornton, seeing that he had them at a momentary advantage, pushed his case. He was excited now. His eyes were bright in the firelight, and when he talked he made short, chopping gestures with his soft hands.

“Lieutenant Overman, you were assigned this detail with the thought in mind that you would protect not only the lone woman, but the civilian men.”

“And the freight,” Dave cut in.

“Freight?” Thornton echoed. “Is any freight worth the lives of men and women?” He looked directly at Overman. “Surely you’ve read enough military history, Lieutenant, to know that commanders have abandoned supplies, weapons, ammunition, and even friends in order to save the lives of their men. Remember Bull Run? You think Pope didn’t abandon equipment?”

“I don’t think Colonel Bowie at the Alamo requested safe conduct,” Overman countered drily. “He neither deserted his friends there nor abandoned his equipment.” He added, “And, like us, he was outnumbered.”

Thornton’s face paled with anger. “Whose decision was it, Lieutenant, to send that wagon in alone, with my supplies?”

“It was mine,” Overman said.

Thornton countered swiftly. “What right have you to sacrifice my supplies over Army supplies? If you thought something was going to be lost, why shouldn’t it be the rifles, and not my trade goods?”

Dave said drily, “Here’s the man from timber country talking again.”

“Then you answer my question!” Thornton challenged Dave.

Dave said patiently, “One, those rifles are needed at Fort Whipple. Two, if we surrender them we arm that many Indians who’ll use them to kill us with.”

“We’re close to being killed now!” Thornton said hotly.

Lieutenant Overman spoke up then and there was command in his voice. “You asked if you could make a suggestion in good faith, Mister Thornton. You have. Your suggestion is unacceptable.”

“Then what do you plan to do? Let us die here?” Thornton demanded.

For the first time that day Dave saw a glint of humor creep into Overman’s eyes.

“Since you asked to make a suggestion, Mister Thornton, I think Dave should be allowed to make a suggestion. He’s responsible for the goods and the rifles. And, like you, he also has his life at stake.” He looked at Dave. “Have you a suggestion, Dave?”

“Yes. Pull stakes at moonrise and go back to Layton Wells.”

Lieutenant Overman smiled. “That would be my suggestion, too, Mister Thornton, and that’s what we’ll do.”

“You’ve got your heads together on this!” Thornton cried, his voice close to shrill. “You’ve decided it without considering other opinions!”

“As it happens, we haven’t got together,” Overman said. “However, I’m as grateful to Dave for his opinion as I am to you for yours.”

Thornton looked at Juliana. “Juliana, does this make any sense to you? If we’d only turn over the rifles we could reach Fort Whipple and your family without any more trouble.”

There was a long moment of silence as Juliana considered this. “I’m sure the Apaches would give our people safe conduct only if we’d move out of the country,” she said. Then she added, “I’m hungry. I don’t know about the rest of you.”

Thornton turned angrily and left the fire. Juliana knew she had wounded him deeply, and that he would probably sulk during the rest of the trip. It was strange how the events of the past few days had changed her liking for John Thornton into near dislike. He seemed to have a gifted tongue which seemed dedicated to saying the wrong thing at the wrong time.

Dave dished up two plates of food and went over to the supply wagon where Bailey and Everts were lying with a dim-lit lantern at their heads.

Juliana dished up plates for Lieutenant Overman and herself, and then took her seat again on an open crate of canned peaches.

“Everybody’s made a suggestion but me, Dick. Am I permitted to make one? In good faith, too?”

Lieutenant Overman smiled. “Go ahead, it’s your turn.”

“I would like to suggest that everyone here is grateful to you for handling these killers the way you did. If we’d gone in there blindly. I think we’d all be dead.”

Lieutenant Overman flushed with embarrassment, then he said, “I’d like to claim credit for the plan, but it was Dave’s idea.”

“Then I’m grateful to him, too.”

Overman nodded solemnly. “So am I.”

Juliana began to eat, but Overman had stopped eating and was staring at the fire. “I can’t help but wonder why he left the Army.”

“He told me he was invalided out because of his eye.”

Overman shook his head. “If he said that it must be true. Still, I’ve met a dozen officers who aren’t perfect physical specimens. My commanding officer at Fort Mohave lost an arm at Bull Run. I used to know a major at Camp McDowell who was so crippled with rheumatism he had to be lifted on and off a horse.”

Juliana said nothing, and Overman continued. “Maybe that missing eye is the handiest excuse to cover the real reason.”

Juliana looked up. “You’re not implying that he was discharged for something he had done?”

Overman looked surprised. “I would never imply that, Miss Juliana—not after today. No, what I meant was that poor pay or family troubles or a business opportunity might have influenced him. I think—”

He saw Dave approaching at the very edge of the firelight, and he stopped speaking and turned his attention to the food on his plate. Dave came over, dished out his food, sat down, and began to eat.

“Remember when moonrise is, Dave?” Overman asked.

“Around eleven.”

“How’s your water situation? I noticed the hostler filling barrels back at Layton’s.”

“We’re all right,” Dave said. “Traveling at night will help too.”

Lieutenant Overman finished eating and rose, saying, “I’d better go tell the men our plans so they can get some rest.”

“If you want to double your guard, call on my men,” Dave said. “On me too.”

Overman nodded and moved over to the other campfire. Dave saw that Sergeant Noonan was eating with the rest of the troopers.

As Dave began to eat he saw Juliana, who had finished, staring into the meager flames. He could guess her thoughts. She was wondering how this would end, and Dave had to confess that he was a little puzzled himself. They could reach Layton Wells on the water that was in the barrels ironed to the side of his wagons, but beyond that he didn’t know. The eastbound stage, not due for a week, would undoubtedly be passed through the malpais. The question that bothered him more than anything else, however, was what their attackers would do when they discovered that the train was headed back for Layton Wells. If they decided to attack the train, either at night or in the daytime, the train would be halted and forced to corral. Then again they would be at the mercy of this gang that barred them from water.

Suddenly Juliana’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Dick gives you credit for saving the train today.”

Dave looked up with a smile. “Who did the fighting?”

“But who had the idea? If we’d all gone in there together I don’t think we’d have come out,” Juliana said.

“I knew the country and Dick didn’t. It’s as simple as that.”

“I think he’s a good officer, don’t you?”

Dave nodded. “He’s good now, and he’ll be better.”

Juliana looked at him, hesitated, then said abruptly, “We were discussing your career, Dick and I.”

Dave frowned, and the movement of his forehead pushed his eyepatch down a little. He touched it back into place before he said, “Neither of you knows anything about it, do you?”

Juliana went on with seeming irrelevance, “Dick’s commanding officer at Fort Mohave lost an arm at Bull Run. A senior officer at Camp McDowell is so crippled with rheumatism he has to be helped on a horse. Then why were you invalided out?”

Dave watched her a long moment before he answered. “I’m not trying to be impertinent, but why do you care?”

“Because I think you belong in the Army. Nobody has to tell me or Dick that you were a good officer. You showed it today without ever leading a man.”

Dave put down his plate and then spoke slowly. “One way or another, I guess we’re all victims of circumstance. You became one when you joined this train. I became one when I was transferred to a weak command.”

Juliana looked puzzled.

Dave continued, “I came in from the field to serve under a man who had a soft job that he was afraid he’d lose if my major was promoted. He would go to any length to discredit the major. His way of doing it was through me. He complained of my work and doubted my physical ability to continue serving in the Army. This let him discredit my major’s judgment before review boards. He consistently questioned my major’s judgment in overlooking my infirmity.” Dave added wryly, “In other words, he was using me to stop the promotion of my major.”

“Couldn’t you request a transfer?” Juliana asked.

“It was turned down,” Dave said. “I was too useful to him as a whipping boy.”

“So you resigned?”

“Because my career was stopped. I couldn’t hope for a promotion, and neither could my major.”

Juliana said musingly, “There are people in the Army like that, Dad says.”

Dave nodded. “There are people like that anywhere, and they mostly get found out, just like my colonel did.”

“Found out?”

Dave nodded. “The year after I resigned my commission, the good colonel was convicted of channeling anything salable to the merchants of the garrison town and pocketing the money.”

“But it was too late to help you.”

Dave nodded, then smiled reminiscently, “But not too late to help my major. He’s now a brigadier general, and there’ll never be a better one.”

Lieutenant Overman came up to the fire then and said, “I just sent my boys to bed. I think I’d better send you two.”

“I think you’d better, too,” Dave said.

Before he rolled into his blankets, Dave checked his two teamsters in the supply wagon. Everts was asleep, but Bailey was awake and feverish. There was pain in his eyes, but both men knew there was nothing to be done about it.

Afterwards, so as to be near Bailey and Everts, Dave threw his blankets under the supply wagon and rolled in. In the few minutes before sleep came to him, he wondered why he had talked so openly to Juliana about his past. Had it seemed to her that he was an embittered crybaby? He didn’t think so, or at least he had not intended it to sound that way. Outside of the few transient officers he had served with, he had never told this bit of his history. It was important only to himself and was past.

Maybe because Juliana was part of the Army, and because her father would undoubtedly tell her the story, it didn’t seem to him that he had been seeking sympathy. He had tried to make a simple statement of fact and it seemed to him that she accepted it as such. She was, Dave thought, a tough and perceptive girl, frank to bluntness, and he admired her because this was so.