Reuben Cole Westerns Collection

Chapter 10

They left Fort Concho in the late August of Eighteen-seventy-four. The orders were despatched some days previously and Reuben Cole, together with Sterling Roose, stood outside the main entrance to their barracks on the evening prior to their departure, smoking and gazing out towards the vast prairie surrounding them.

‘Heard it’s about Comanch,’ said Reuben, letting the smoke stream from between his lips. He was not a great smoker, allowing himself one in the evening before he settled down to sleep. “Again,” he added, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

‘Heard a bunch of Cheynee and Arapaho have joined ‘em. Broke out the reservation to follow a band of Kiowa. There’s a lot of ‘em, maybe two thousand.’

‘If that’s true, we’re in for a long ol’ haul this time, Sterling.’

‘It’s always a long ol’ haul when it comes to Comanch. They don’t take prisoners. And this time, according to the Colonel, neither do we. The government want ‘em back in that reservation and we are to do whatever is necessary to succeed in that demand.’

‘You know a lot about this, don’t you?’

A mischievous glint played around Roose’s eyes. ‘To tell you the truth, Rube, I was listening at Colonel Mackenzie’s door after I saw that express rider come blazing across the parade ground. A few of us crept across and listened to what he had to say.’

‘That was brave of you. If Sergeant Dixon had found you he’d have—’

‘Shoot, Rube, Dixon was the first one over there.’ He chuckled. ‘I’m guessing he was hoping for an easy retirement. His wife’s expecting their first.’

‘Maybe he’ll get compassionate leave.’

‘Against Comanches? Are you kidding me? No, they need every one of us out there, to push ‘em up against the Red River, causing them as much hardship as possible and so force ‘em back where they came from. But Lone Wolf is leading ‘em and he is as hard as the mountains which hem us in from every side. He won’t go down without a fight.’

As they streamed out of the main entrance, with Reuben and Roose at the van, the sun blazed overhead, beating down with an intensity that was almost too harsh to bear. As scouts, they wore broad-brimmed straw hats and buckskin clothes which afforded some protection. Ben Cougan, the third scout, had brought himself a parasol which he now twirled daintily between his sausage-thick fingers. ‘Got me this from a young w***e down in El Paso. Best thing she ever gave me – she was as ugly as an old coot.’

‘So says the Greek Adonis,’ chuckled Roose.

‘What was that you said?’

‘Nothing Ben,’ said Roose with a grin, ‘only commenting on your supreme good looks and how you can charm the prettiest of young things into your bed.’ He winked.

Cougan glared, not believing a word of it. He was a dangerous, unpredictable individual, but Reuben had knocked him on his backside on more than one occasion, and said simply, ‘Leave it, Ben.’ That was enough.

The undulating landscape was an arid, broken plain, the compacted earth punctuated with clusters of rocks and clumps of sage. An acrid smell caught at the back of men’s throats and the three scouts pulled up their bandanas to cover nose and mouth.

They set a steady pace, threading their mounts through the rough ground, knowing the most dangerous thing to do out here would be for a horse to turn an ankle in a hidden depression. The occasional rattler hissed its warning and sometimes the rare sight of a soaring eagle caused them to look skywards. Apart from these nothing else stirred and the only sounds were the plodding of hooves and the groans of cavalrymen close to the edge of boredom.

‘I don’t like this,’ said the young second-in-command, Lieutenant Nathan Brent, fresh-faced and immaculately turned out despite the heat. He’d ridden up to the scouts who walked some hundred paces ahead of the column.

Roose, leaning forward, hands on the pommel of his saddle, gave him an encouraging look, liking his eagerness and his innocence. ‘What exactly don’t you like, Lieutenant?’

‘Look at it,’ he swept his arm dramatically in a wide arc, ‘we’re too open. Commanches could be hiding in a gulley, just waiting to attack.’

‘Hit and run, you mean?’ interjected Cole.

‘Yes! Precisely.’

‘What do you suggest, Lieutenant?’ asked Roose, stretching out his back. ‘We could spread out, but I don’t believe there are any Indians out here.’

‘They’re more likely to be hiding amongst those rocks,’ said Cole, pointing towards a distant range of low jagged mountains, which sprouted from the grey earth like giants’ teeth. ‘The summits are virtually unscaleable, but there’s a whole system of caves, crags and hidden pathways where any number of men could hide.’

‘Then we should check them out, seeing as we are heading in that direction.’

Cole looked uncomfortable and gave Roose a look.

‘That’s a good two-hour ride, Lieutenant. We wouldn’t be back until nightfall.’ He looked around, reached inside one of his saddlebags and pulled out a pair of German, precision-built binoculars. He scanned the plain over to his left, grunting when he found what he was looking for. ‘Yonder is a small knot of trees and gorse, which will provide the horses with a little relief from the sun. My advice would be to make camp there and await our return.’ He continued to swing the glasses to cover every direction.

‘And post pickets,’ said Cole. ‘Your very best men.’

The three scouts rode at a fair pace across the flat earth, setting a course least sprinkled with broken rock fragments. As they drew closer to the base of the mountains, the scree increased dramatically, forcing them to skirt to the east as they searched for a way into the mountain network.

Giving way to a large depression, the landscape changed suddenly, with grassland and small areas of woodland replacing the uniform greyness of the plain. It was here they spotted a small cluster of timber buildings. Reining in, Roose again brought his binoculars to his eyes. ‘All righty, we have here a cabin. It appears well built, and recent, with a fenced in area to the rear. Probably vegetables and the like. There’s a small barn and a stable but I can’t see any horses … There’s a well, and to …’

His voice trailed away as he slowly lowered the field glasses and turned to face Cole who sat, waiting in silence.

‘What?’

‘There’s something behind the well …’ He put the glasses to his eyes, adjusting the focus ring slightly. ‘It looks … I can’t quite make it out as it’s obscured by the well …’

‘Let’s go down there,’ said Cougan, pausing for a moment to spit over his horse’s neck. ‘There ain’t nothing moving for a hundred square miles in this dead and dying land. Look at it – nothing grows except twisted gorse bushes and the like. Why would anyone live out here?’

‘They have worked hard, whoever they are,’ said Roose, continuing to scan the settlement, ‘they have planted a good deal of wheat. Real farmers, not eager amateurs. Look at those fields, that ain’t the work of someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing.’

‘So where are they?’

Roose lowered the glasses again and answered his friend"s question with a simple shrug.

‘I’m going down there,’ said Cougan as he deftly collapsed the parasol and placed it just behind the saddle pommel. ‘The longer we sit out here the more likely we is to get fried. Besides, they might have some grub, a good cup of coffee, wholesome bread.’ l*****g his lips, his patted his ample stomach, reached behind him and pulled out his Spencer carbine from its sheath. ‘You comin’?’

‘I don"t like it,’ said Roose. ‘It looks well tended and all, but why is there no one about?’

‘Maybe they’re inside, eating.’ Cougan kicked his horse’s flanks and set off down the slight incline. I’ll go take a look-see.’ Soon he was cutting a trail through the grass.

‘We follow him?’

‘Nope,’ said Cole. ‘We go in from the flanks. You take the right. Sweep round in a wide arc and when you come through the other side of the grass, dismount and move in slow.’

‘You expecting trouble?’

‘I don’t know what to expect,’ said Cole, checking his Winchester with deliberate care, ‘but something is not right. All the horses gone, that causes me a good deal of concern, Sterling, I’ll tell you that much.’ He took a long drink from his water canteen and eased himself from the saddle. ‘I´ll go in on foot. If you hear shootin’, forget what I said about moving slowly and ride in hard and fast.’

Chewing on his bottom lip, Roose took one final sweep with the binoculars, shook his head, and cantered away to the far side.