Apache canyon (2 page)

"You make good and damn sure that Apache kid don't get loose again. If he tells Inyo that he saw you flip me money after you picked him up here—"

"Sure," Brady said, smiling. "I'll look out for your interests, Yeager. But just the same, you'd be better off if you moved down to the fort. Apache squaw or no, Inyo's going to make a target out of your outfit pretty soon. He needs supplies and he needs horses."

"I can handle Inyo all right," Yeager growled. "Now get that kid out of here before one of Inyo's bucks spots you."

Brady wheeled his horse away from the house. Rubio, leading the bay horse with their captive, had already moved from the corral fence. Brady caught up and said, "Wait a minute, Pete," and dismounted, taking a rawhide piggin string from his ovra saddle. He walked across the few feet separating him from the mounted Indian and used the piggin string to last Tonio's left foot firmly into the stirrup. "That should keep you from jumping off," he observed, and went back to his own horse. "Pete, you'd be surprised how fast an Apache can run with his hands tied behind."

"As fast as a Navajo, I reckon," Rubio answered with a grin. Rubio's mother had been a Navajo.

"Don't do anything foolish," Brady said to Tonio.

Tonio was looking away, looking steadily at the higher mountain peaks that lifted darkly behind them.

Brady shrugged. "Let's go."

Warner Cole, Major, U.S. Cavalry, commanding, stood on the breathless-hot veranda of his office and leaned a hard, thick shoulder against the doorjamb. For a while his attention idly followed the movements of a troop of C Company soldiers, performing dismounted drill under the hoarsely bellowed orders of Sergeant Emmett Tucker. The troop marched across the far end of the parade ground, performed an about-face, marched the other way, and about-faced again. The major put his glance on Tucker, the tall red-haired sergeant, and allowed himself a moment of speculative regret, which quickly came, and as quickly went. Tucker's problems had to remain his own.

Major Cole's glance drifted away from the drilling troopers and swept the borders of the parade ground —flat-roofed adobe structmes, weathered into the common yellow-tan of the land, with here and there a spot of shade under a long porch roof.

Beyond the far end of the parade ground stood the sutler's store, and then the civilian compound, formed of one large saloon, a number of civilian houses, and then the wikiup camp of the Agency Apaches who squatted outside the post hoping for work, food and medical care. At best it was a dusty, forlorn-looking outpost. Behind the saloon sat the squatting tents and makeshift frame dwellings of the ranchers who had moved into the fort's protection after Inyo had jumped the reservation and begun his campaign of horse-raids, ranch-burning raids, and killings. Right now the major could see on the saloon porch a gathering of men in soiled vests and patched flannel shirts. These were the ranchers, talking among themselves. He knew what they talked about: Why hasn't the army gone after Inyo yet? Whafs the army waiting for? In another day or two a delegation of ranchers would again invade his office and press him for answers he could not give.

The major shook his head and batted dust from his sleeves, and turned inside the office.

Here it was even more stifling than on the porch. He dipped a long-handled tin cup into a water-olla suspended from the ceiling in a rope net, and drank long of the cool Hquid. He saw the dark sweat-circles at his armpits and glared at the sergeant-major. The sergeant-major, Sean McCracken, glared back at him. McCracken sat well behind his desk, chair tilted back. His face was broiled crimson and his belly hung over his belt like a loose sack of flour.

The major wiped sweat from his face and pawed aimlessly through papers on top of McCracken's desk; he met McCracken's blank stare and went to the window to look out past the line of cottonwoods a half mile distant that marked the course of the shallow Smoke River.

Many miles beyond, the Arrowheads lifted their dusty-blue shoulders against the skyline. Somewhere up there was Inyo.

The major grunted again and went back into his own office and looked out that window. Heat waves undulated above the cactus-studded plain.

Three riders were coming forward from the direction of the Arrowheads, three horsemen in a close-packed bunch. At this distance the major couldn't make them out, but if it was Will Brady, the presence of the third rider meant they had recaptured Tonio.

One bright spot in a dreary day, the major thought bleakly. He sat down in the chair behind his desk and found before him a document awaiting his approval, an officer's request for transfer, neatly written out in the handwi-iting of George Sutherland, Captain, B Company.

Major Cole allowed himself a sigh, after which he muttered, "Another ritual to be performed," and wrote at the bottom of the transfer appHcation: Request denied, and his signature. He carried the paper out to the front office and put it on McCracken's desk and said, "Give this to Captain Sutherland when he comes in."

"Yes, sir," McCracken said.

"I think I just saw Brady and Rubio bringing in the prisoner. Tell Brady to drop the Indian off at the guardhouse and report to me."

McCracken nodded; his loose chin wobbled. Sweat was a glisten on his lobster-red flesh. "Hot and close," McCracken observed, to no one in particular.

The major agreed, and was turning away from the sergeant-major's desk when a man's shadow filled the doorway and Captain George Sutherland, his brass aglitter, stood at attention with his garrison cap smartly under his aim. "Major—"

"Come on back. Captain," the major said tiredly, and moved with lethargic steps back into his office. By the time he seated himself, Sutherland had pulled the door shut behind him. Shutting that thin, bhster-

dry door would hardly keep any sounds from the outer office. The major smiled. Besides, McCracken knew as much as any man what went on within the confines of Fort Dragoon.

Sutherland was standing stiffly at attention. "I won't beat around the bush," the major said. "IVe turned you down again, Captain." Of all his officers, Sutherland was the only one whose first name Major Cole never felt free to use.

Sutherland's face was round and smooth, almost giving an impression of baby-softness but in contradiction to this, he always carried himself with stiff back and stern demeanor. Sutherland was not a martinet, Major Cole privately observed; but it might not take too much to make him one.

"As you know," the major continued, "there are no officers on the post capable of replacing you at the moment, Captain. Furthermore, even if I approve your transfer, the War Department is certain to turn you down. The army is overloaded with officers, as you well know."

"Yes, sir," Sutherland said. His eyes remained straight ahead, fixed on the wall above the major's head.

"For Pete's sake, relax a little, can't you? At ease. Captain."

"Thank you, sir," Sutherland said with exact courtesy. He moved his left foot aside and clasped his hands behind him. The rigidity of his body did not change. 

Major Cole allowed himself a small grimace; he felt the sticky wetness of his shirt against the chair; he stood and went to the window and looked out while he spoke. "I realize this is not a glory post, Captain. But at least it offers the possibihty of action--which is more than a headquarters desk job would give you. I have asked before, and I'll ask again now--I know you're not a coward, Captain, and I'd like to know your reason for requesting transfer." 

"My reasons are personal. Major." 

"Personal in what way?"

"I'm afraid I'd prefer to keep that to myself, sir. The major, without looking around, shook his head gently. "Lx)Osen up a little, can't you?" "Is there anything else. Major?" The major put his back to the window, facing Sutherland. "Most of our wives don't like it here. Captain. Yours isn't the only one to find this place well-nigh unbearable."

Sutherland's sensuous lips curled a trifle; he said, "I don't know of any particular desire to leave on my wife's part, Major. She's never suggested it to me." Major Cole considered the man. He could not make Sutherland out; he could not understand the man or his motives. Finally he said, "All right, Captain. I'll respect your wishes in the matter; I won't press it further. When I feel we can spare you, I'll approve your transfer request. Until then, as you know, we have an Indian problem, and this post is awaiting orders from General Shennan. When those orders come, I expect you'll have your hands full of Coyotero Apaches for a while--and I'll need every man I can get, particularly my hue officers."

"Of course. Major," Sutherland said. If there was a trace of dryness in his tone. Major Cole chose to ignore it. "Thank you, sir." The captain saluted, executed a smart about-face, and left the room.

After a moment's troubled thought, the major moved into the front office and confronted the desk of Sergeant-Major McCracken.

The sergeant-major looked up with bland anticipation. "Yes, sir?"

"McCracken, what the devil is wrong with Captain Sutherland?"

"Man to man, sir?"

"Of course, damn it."

McCracken let his chair come down on four legs, and planted his elbows solidly on the scarred wood desk top. At last he looked up, all red round cheeks and loose chins and thinning sandy hair, and said tentatively, "I wouldn't want to be spreadin' tales, Major."

"I understand," the major said. "Go on."

Having heard his remark, McCracken continued: "The talk is he's jealous, sir. They're sayin' his wife's been seen with one of the officers. Maybe the captain wants to get her away from him, Major."

"Which other officer?"

"Why," McCracken said innocently, "I couldn't say, Major. I couldn't say."

Major Cole grunted and walked forward to the open front door. He looked at the dusty parade ground. There was only one officer in his command who could get this kind of mouth-shut loyalty from McCracken; that officer was Captain Justin Harris, of C Company. And when he thought about it for a moment, the Major could understand how Sutherland's pretty dark-eyed wife might be attracted to Captain Harris. Harris was everything that Sutherland wanted to be but was not. Harris was a good officer. He was easygoing, carrying himself lightly but with self-assurance, coiffident of his abilities as an officer and therefore never overbearing, and handsome with his long face and his gently sardonic eyes and his rambling easy temper-Hanis was, the major decided, just the kind of man who would appeal to Eleanor Sutherland. Or any other perceptive young woman.

Funny, the major mused. I had it in mind that Harris was pretty well interested in Sadie Rand. For the good of harmony on the post, it might be well to have a talk with Justin Harris.

So deciding, the major turned back and said to McCracken, "Get word to Captain Harris when he comes in from scout detail that I want a word with him."

McCracken frowned. "I'm beginning to feel I spoke out of turn, Major. Maybe you ought to forget I said anything."

"Why," the major said, "did you say anythmg, McCracken?"

"No, sir," McCracken said.

"I didn t think you had," the major said, suppressing the beginnings of a smile.

McCracken got up and came around his desk. The chevrons on his sleeve were dusty and faded. "I've served with some pretty good officers in my time, Major," he said, and clapped his hat on his head and waddled corpulently out the door, out of sight, leaving Major Cole alone in the room trying to puzzle out just what the sergeant-major had meant by his parting remai'k. Presently he decided to take it as a compliment.

A trooper came hurrying down the walk from the adjutant's office and swung inside, saluting the major and holding out a folded paper in his left hand. "The wires is up again, sir, and this telegram just come tlirough."

"Thanks, trooper." Major Cole took the message back into his ojffice, read it, read it again, and was still thinking about it when he heard the tramp of hoofs out front of the building. He looked up expectantly.

Brady and Rubio. It was an old ritual. Pete Rubio moved to the room's corner and stood there with his arms folded. He was chewing tobacco, saying nothing.

Brady came forward and stood at slouched ease, a tall rugged dark man in a buckskin shirt and butternut trousers and a battered hat. "He's back," Brady said, and the major knew this would be the sum of Brady's voluntary report.

"Any trouble?"

"No," Brady said. "He's not a bad kid. And you can't blame him for trying to get to his father."

"I don't intend to get rough with him, if that's what you mean," the major said. "But he's our one ace in the hole, and I want to keep him here. We can use him."

"Use him. Major?"

The major nodded. Then he said, "Your contrast expires next week. Have you thought about it?"

"I've thought about it," Brady said. "I'm getting a little bit weary, Major. Tired of chasing a few renegade Coyoteros around the countryside for a Hving. Last year I came across a nice little valley up in the Santa Catalinas, all locked away from the rest of the world. I'm thinking of nmning a littlehorse ranch up diere."

It was a long speech for Brady and the major recognized it. Presently he said, "I've just received a wire from Sherman's headquarters ordering me to get the garrison ready for action."

"That's no news," Brady said. "You've been ready to set off for a month now."

"I think this means a campaign," the major continued, ignoring Brady's remark. "I think it means we'll be mounting the regiment against Inyo. We'll need your services, Brady, to lead us to Inyo's ran-cheria in the Arrowheads."

Brady jerked a thumb over his shoulder toward the corner where Pete Rubio stood in squat, imperturbable quiet. "Pete knows that country. So do most of the Agency Apaches and Indian police around here."

The major shook his head. "It won t do. No offense, Rubio."

" 'S all right, Captain," Rubio drawled. Rubio called every officer captain.

"Then get Al Sieber," Brady said. "Sieber's the best in the Territory."

"Sieber is also working for another command, and they won't spare him. I need you, Brady. I want you to extend your contract." "For how long?"