Hard Days

Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Apache Breakout

On the ride back to the fort, Vance outlined what had happened.

“Seems like the ones we didn’t find came back, climbed the walls and broke into the jail.” The wind lashed against them, forcing them to bend low over the necks of their horses. Vance was shouting to make himself heard, but Cole managed to get the gist of the story. Two guards had been knocked down, but not killed, a point not lost on the army scout. Even so, when they came into the parade ground, Captain Fleming was standing waiting, with a face like thunder. He hadn’t had time to dress correctly and appeared somewhat comical in long-johns, riding boots and hat. Behind him, sprawled out in front of the jail, two troopers were being tended by a subaltern who cleaned their bleeding heads.

“You took your time,” growled Fleming, holding onto Cole’s horse as the scout dismounted.

“That’s my fault, sir,” said Vance quickly, stepping up beside them. “I rode out as fast as I could but got lost.”

Fleming silenced him with a glowering look. “I’ll settle you later, private. Right now, Cole, we have a situation. Come into my office.”

Inside the cramped office, one of Fleming’s men had stoked up the pig-stove in the corner and both captain and Cole pressed up close to it, warming their hands. “This is mighty welcome, Captain.”

“This is only the onset of winter,” said Fleming, “soon it’ll feel like death.”

“Maybe for those Apache too.”

“I want them caught, Cole. All of ‘em this time.”

“I underestimated ‘em,” admitted Cole grudgingly. “I never expected the others to come here, least of all to attempt a breakout. They must be desperate.”

“So they should be. They know the noose is waiting.” Fleming shook his head. “Beats me why they didn’t kill the guards. They are already as guilty as sin.”

“Maybe they don’t see it that way.”

Fleming turned, his eyes colder than the night. “I’ve heard you muttering about savages before, Cole. Seems to me you’re a little too soft on ‘em.”

“No, sir. I do not condone anything they have done; I just feel justice should be served in its proper manner.”

“Same as us, you mean? Bull!” He turned away, his shoulders tense as the anger seized him. “I have fought them many times and the only justice they recognise is that delivered by a bullet. So, you get out there and bring ‘em back. Dead or alive, I don’t care which.”

Cole turned to go without a word.

“You should take that other scout with you, to ensure success this time. What’s his name, the scrawny one?”

“Sterling Roose, Cap’n. But no, I asked him to stay at my ranch, just in case.”

“Just in case of what?”

“They know me. Who knows what they might do once the killin’ starts … which it will, I guess.”

“Your heart ain’t in this, is it Cole.”

“From where I’m standing, I think those boys will try and make it down into Mexico and we’ll never see ‘em again. But if we start bringing down some wrath of God upon their heads, they may just repay us in kind.”

“They killed a guard at the reservation. They must be brought in to face that.”

“I wonder if we’d be so desperate to see justice served if the guard had been Kiowa.”

Fleming blew out a breath. “Get out of here, Cole, I’m sick of your sanctimonious drivel. And, furthermore, I’ve decided I’m coming with you.”

Cole’s eyes widened. “To babysit me, Cap’n?”

“To make sure you do what is required, Cole. You’re getting soft.”

Stepping out into the night, Cole crossed to where Vance stood next to the horses. The young soldier brought himself stiffly to attention. “Are we setting out straight away, Mr Cole?”

“As soon as the good Captain is ready, yes.”

“Oh.” Vance looked over to the light burning in Fleming’s office window. “I guess that means we’ll be taking an entire troop with us. That’ll take some time to prepare.”

“Seems so, and the longer we delay the farther away those Apache get.” He shook his head. “Julia ain’t gonna be happy, I know that.”

“Mr Cole,” said Vance in a grim sounding voice, “ain’t none of us gonna be happy.”