The Winchester Run Page 27

  “Yes,” said Hattie, “and none of us will be talked out of it.”

  “I’ll admit our chances are better if all the men are armed,” Trinity said, “but I’d not be able to forgive myself, if one of you died in the fight.”

  “We have no intention of doing that,” said Hattie. “As soon as we can get our hands on Winchesters, we’ll get as far from that wagon as possible. Red’s already pointed out a place where we can belly-down and draw attention from the wagon, with small chance of any of us being hit.”

  “Perhaps it will work like you’ve planned,” Trinity said. “I can’t believe Red would let you do this if there was the slightest chance you’d be hit.”

  “We’re not risking nearly as much as you,” said Hattie. “Suppose this man just won’t settle for anything less, and you have to . . . give yourself to him?”

  “I’m prepared to,” Trinity said, “if that’s what it takes. It’s Mac’s advice, although he didn’t have this in mind. He says you don’t bluff, that you must be prepared to go all the way, if you’re going to win. I can stand a few minutes of unpleasantness, if there’s no other way.”

  “As soon as you know when you’re going to . . . be with him,” said Hattie, “get word to one of us. We must be ready to move when you do.”

  “You’ll know,” Trinity said. “We mustn’t fail.”

  * Dead drunk.

  CHAPTER 18

  Lieutenant Nelson’s soldiers wasted most of a day rounding up the stampeded horses and mules. The animals were gathered in twos and threes. Nelson was ominously quiet, and the soldiers equally so.

  “He’s finally laid some discipline on the varmints,” Port Guthrie said.

  “That may not be good for our cause,” said Mac. “They’re likely to be harder on us, making our escape more difficult.”

  Trinity and her companions had their misgivings about the apparent change.

  “They look like children who have had their toys taken away from them,” Rachel said. “I wonder if that means he’s told hem to leave us alone?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Hattie. “There’s not much else he can do, when it comes to discipline.”

  Trinity laughed. “He can’t court-martial them, can he?”

  “If he makes the rest of the men leave us alone,” said Elizabeth, “It will only be fair if he leaves you alone. At least until he’s done with these wagons.”

  “There goes your plan, Trinity,” Hattie said.

  “Perhaps not,” said Trinity. “He said he wants to talk to me, and even if that’s all he has in mind, I’ll try to lure him to our wagon.”

  But it seemed that while Lieutenant Nelson had declared the women off limits to his men, he had applied the same rules to his own conduct. He spoke not a word to Trinity and seemed to go out of his way to avoid her. The soldiers seemed more watchful than ever. Testing their vigilance, Trinity got up far in the night and immediately found herself facing the muzzle of a Winchester. Finally Trinity got up enough nerve to approach Nelson with a question.

  “You said we would be talking some more. When?”

  “There’ll be time enough for that when we’ve reached the end of this mission,” Nelson replied. “You won’t be disappointed with my decision.”

  “There goes our best chance,” said Trinity, after she had been joined by Hattie, Elizabeth, and Rachel.

  “Mac won’t be disappointed,” Hattie said, “and neither am I. There must be another way.”

  “Then some of you come up with it,” said Trinity tiredly.

  “I’ll have to tell Mac,” Hattie said. “He told me to tell him if there was any change in the situation, and this is change enough.”

  Mac listened as Hattie told him of the latest development.

  “I’m glad it didn’t work out like Trinity planned,” said Mac. “However this turns out, I wouldn’t feel like much of a man, allowing her to prostitute herself to save me.”

  “I’ll tell her that,” Hattie said. “Is there anything else we can do?”

  “No,” said Mac. “Just tell her that we’ll come up with a plan of our own.”

  Mac waited until he could talk to Red, Buck, Haze, and the teamsters. Port Guthrie and the teamsters hadn’t been told of Trinity’s plan, so Mac went over it, before telling them it had been abandoned.

  “That was mighty self-sacrificin’ of the lady to even try such a thing,” Guthrie said, “but there must be another way.”

  “There is,” said Mac. “I have to get to that wagon, get my Winchester, and gun down as many of these varmints as I can. But I need a diversion, something to get them all as far from that wagon as possible.”

  “You’ll still have irons on your wrists and ankles,” Red pointed out.

  “No help for that,” said Mac. “We won’t get our hands on that key until we take it from Nelson’s dead body.”

  “We can stampede the mules,” Port Guthrie said. “That’s a pretty good diversion.”

  “Yes,” said Mac, “but we’ll have to do it in such a way that we can’t be held responsible. If we fail this time, we may have to rely on the stampede again.”

  “A good dose of skunk would do it,” Buck said. “There’s one been doin’ his thing not too far from here.”

  “Yeah,” said Haze. “He’s upwind from us.”

  “You want skunk,” Gourd Snively said, “leave a big hunk of meat where he can smell it, and he’ll show up.”

  “There’s still some of that deer Sergeant Embler shot,” said Port Guthrie. “By now, it likely ain’t fit for nothin’ but skunk bait.”

  “I’ll see that Hattie gets us the bait tomorrow night at supper,” Red said. “I just wish there was some other way of creating a diversion, without stampeding the mules. Sooner or later, this bunch of short-horns will lose some of them for good.”

  “There ain’t a mule alive that I wouldn’t sacrifice to save my hide,” said Port Guthrie.

  “That’s about the way I feel,” Mac agreed. “We’ll do what we must.”

  It was after dark the next evening when Hattie produced the piece of deer meat.

  “Oh, I hope this works,” she said. “Trinity’s a bundle of nerves.”

  “I reckon it’ll lure the skunk,” said Mac. “From there, we’ll have to wait and see.”

  Mac managed to drop the deer meat near where the mules and horses were grazing. He then spread his blankets as near Trinity’s wagon as he felt he could, without arousing suspicion. He waited for what he believed was three hours without result. There wasn’t a sound from any of his comrades, but he knew they were awake, ready to follow him if his desperate act proved, successful. The moon had risen, and while Mac could see the shapes of the grazing horses and mules, he could see little else. He must depend on the skunk making his presence known. The first sign of his coming was the nervous nicker of one of the horses. A mule stomped his feet, braying, and then there was a chorus of them.

  “All you men on your feet,” Lieutenant Nelson bawled. “Something’s disturbing the horses and mules.”

  Nine men, half-dressed, seized their Winchesters and went on the run. The incident might have passed, but the shouting of the soldiers convinced the skunk he was in danger and he acted accordingly.

  “Skunk!” shouted Private Puckett, who was leading the charge.

  The soldiers fell over one another attempting to retreat, and all of them received a dose of the skunk’s venom. It was more than enough to stampede the horses and mules, and they lit out along the backtrail.

  “Head them,” Lieutenant Nelson shouted.

  But the unfortunate soldiers stood there rubbing their eyes, scarcely able to see. Mac made his way toward the wagon containing the guns, restrained by the leg irons, forced to take short steps when he desperately needed to run. His heart sank when a man stepped away from the shadow of the wagon, a Winchester at the ready.

  “It had to be you, didn’t it, Tunstall?” said Sergeant Embler. “Now you just go right ba
ck the way you come. The lieutenant will want to make an example of you.”

  It seemed Lieutenant Nelson had forgotten about the stampede. He spoke to Sergeant Embler in an almost casual tone.

  “March him to that tree, Sergeant.”

  The tree forked about head-high, and Mac soon understood what was coming. Nelson unlocked one of the manacles securing his wrist and passed the loose end of the chain through the fork in the tree. He then replaced and locked the manacle on the loose wrist, and Mac was secured, facing the tree, his arms over his head.

  “Pass me your weapon, Sergeant,” Lieutenant Nelson said, “and fetch a rope.”

  Sergeant Embler returned with a lariat, and seemed to know exactly what to do with it. He doubled and tripled it until it had the weight of a club. The rest of Mac’s outfit had gathered, and it was to them that Nelson spoke.

  “Discipline is about to be administered to Mr. Tunstall. If the rest of you are wise, you will learn from it. Proceed, Sergeant, until I tell you to stop.”

  “No,” Trinity sobbed.

  Her protest was ignored, and Hattie held her back. There was nothing any of them could do, for besides the Winchester Lieutenant Nelson held, most of the other soldiers had cocked their weapons. Despite himself, Mac groaned as Sergeant Embler administered the beating. His friends wept for him, as he took one blow after another, until finally he felt them no longer. Unconscious, he hung from the chain that secured his wrists between the fork of the tree.

  “That’s enough, Sergeant,” Lieutenant Nelson said. “I trust that will be sufficient to discourage Mr. Tunstall’s friends who might be considering something equally foolish.”

  Nelson unlocked one of the irons securing Mac’s wrists, and allowed him to slump to the ground. He then locked the loose manacle back in place and spoke.

  “If you wish to see to Tunstall’s hurts, Sergeant Embler will get the medicine chest from the wagon.”

  “Get it,” Hattie said, through gritted teeth.

  Lieutenant Nelson waited until Embler returned with the medicine chest. He then spoke to them all.

  “This is just a sample. If Tunstall—or any of you—try this again, the punishment will be doubled.”

  He then walked away, Sergeant Embler and the rest of the soldiers following. Red and Buck turned Mac belly-down and began picking the shreds of his shirt from the bloody welts on his back.

  “Let me help,” Trinity begged.

  “Get a fire going,” said Red. “We need hot water, and lots of it.”

  Trinity and Hattie started the fire and put on water to boil.

  “My God,” Hattie said, “the man’s a beast.”

  “He’s somewhere below that,” said Trinity. “I’m going to kill him.”

  “I think that’s something Mac Tunstall will want to take care of himself,” Hattie said.

  Mac had been brought near the fire so that there would be enough light to tend his wounds.

  “How bad is it?” Trinity asked anxiously.

  “Plenty bad enough,” said Buck. “I’ve never seen a man beaten like this who lived to talk about it.”

  “He won’t have to worry about ridin’ for a while,” Port Guthrie said. “This bunch of poor excuses for soldiers has got to round up all them mules and horses.”

  After Mac’s wounds had been cleansed with hot water, it was apparent they were even more severe than they had at first seemed.

  “Dear God,” said Trinity, “there’s less than a bottle of whiskey left. Suppose it’s not enough?”

  “It’ll have to be,” Red replied. “We can’t count on this bunch of varmints for anything but more of the same.”

  “There’s another bottle with disinfectant,” said Hattie. “We’ll use that to disinfect his wounds and save the whiskey for infection.”

  “There’s still plenty of laudanum,” Rachel said. “He’ll need that to see him through the pain for a while.”

  “Oh, Lord,” said Elizabeth, “what are we going to do now?”

  “We’re going to keep Mac alive,” Haze said, “if we can. When we’ve done that, we’ll find a way to take care of Nelson and the rest of those bastards.”

  Mac’s outfit was up the rest of the night, nobody willing to leave him until they knew whether or not he would survive.

  “His pulse is stronger,” Trinity announced, along toward dawn.

  None of the soldiers, including Lieutenant Nelson, seemed to care if Mac Tunstall lived or died. At first light they prepared to search for the missing horses and mules. It would be no easy task, for they all were afoot.

  Red laughed. “It’s just like Mac planned it. We could have saved our horses, but these varmints would have taken them to search for the others and the mules. Now, by God, they’ll be hoofin’ it. They’ll be lucky if they find ’em all in two or three days.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Trinity said. “If Mac heals at all, he’ll need time.”

  Heavily dosed with laudanum, Mac slept all night and most of the next day. Even then his fever still raged. When he opened his eyes, he found Trinity beside him.

  “Water,” he croaked.

  Once, twice, three times, Trinity filled a tin cup with water. Mac then closed his eyes and was asleep again.

  “The boys ain’t havin’ much luck on their horse and mule hunt,” said Port Guthrie.

  At the end of the day they had managed to recover only half a dozen mules, and none of the missing horses. Twenty-four hours after Mac’s beating, his fever broke and there was hope that he would recover. Before dawn, he was awake, wanting to know what had taken place while he slept.

  “That was a good idea, lettin’ all the horses stampede with the mules,” said Red. “This bunch of short-horn soldiers just ain’t havin’ much luck afoot.”

  “I hate to lose the horses,” Mac said, “but this will buy us a little time. Whatever we have to do to free ourselves must be done before we reach the coast. Once they get us aboard a sailing ship, we’re lost.”

  “We know Trinity was right about one thing,” said Red. “We have to get loose from these irons, at least one or two of us, and get our hands on some weapons.”

  “Yes,” Mac agreed, “and creating a diversion and rushing the wagon won’t work. They were prepared for that. Embler had been told, regardless of what happened, to guard the wagon with the weapons. As soldiers go, this bunch leaves a lot to be desired, but I’ll have to admit they have us in a bad situation. Have Port Guthrie come talk to me.”

  Guthrie wasted no time.

  “Port,” Mac said, “at least one or two of us must be free of these irons and have our hands on some Winchesters, if we’re to free ourselves from this bunch. We’re goin’ to try something else, and we’ll need your help.”

  Mac talked rapidly and Guthrie listened, speaking only when Mac had finished.

  “Yeah, I can handle my end of it. Tell me when.”

  “It must be while we’re still near Austin,” said Mac. “If Nelson has a rendezvous with a sailing ship, there may be even more men for us to contend with. I think the third day after we leave here, we’ll make our move. I’ll talk to you again before then, and you’re not to speak of this to anyone else.”

  “Bueno,” Guthrie said. “I understand.”

  The second day, Lieutenant Nelson’s soldiers were more successful, gathering another four mules and six horses.

  “Another day,” said Haze, “and they may find the rest of ’em.”

  “That won’t mean nothin’ to us,” Buck said, “if it brings doomsday a little closer.”

  Port Guthrie was as good as his word, saying nothing about what he and Mac had discussed. It was more difficult for Mac, for he was faced daily with the stricken looks of the women.

  “There’s one thing we’re going to change,” said Lieutenant Nelson, when at last the mules and horses had been recovered. “Until this mission has been completed, three of you will remain with the livestock from dusk until dawn. You are authorized to shoot
anything or anybody coming near. If there are any more untimely stampedes, punishment of those responsible will be severe.”

  “But sir,” Private Puckett said, “there was a skunk—”

  “You heard me, Private,” said Lieutenant Nelson. “Punishment will be severe.”

  The third day following the stampede, Lieutenant Nelson’s men managed to round up the rest of the missing horses and mules. True to his word, Nelson assigned three men to stand watch near the animals from dusk to dawn.

  “Well, there’s nothing more we can do, where the horses and mules are concerned,” Haze said. “I think Nelson suspects we had something to do with that last stampede.”

  “Let him suspect all he wants,” said Mac. “He can’t prove a thing.”

  “He’s got Sergeant Embler and Corporal Irvin eating and sleeping at Trinity’s wagon, where our weapons are,” Red said. “Now that bothers me.”

  “It bothers us in a different way,” said Trinity. “They won’t let us in the wagon even to get a change of clothes. Embler told me to wash what I’m wearing, put them on and let them dry.”

  “I feel so dirty, I can barely stand myself,” Elizabeth said. “Before we leave here in the morning, I’m going to get some of my clothes out of that wagon.”

  “No,” said Haze, “you stay away from that wagon. Nelson’s been rough on them, and they’d like nothing better than to take it out on some of us.”

  But Elizabeth didn’t heed the warning. After supper, her companions missed her when they heard her agonized scream. Because of their leg irons, the men were slow reaching her. When Mac and Haze were within sight of Trinity’s wagon, Sergeant Embler and Corporal Irvin had Trinity, Hattie, and Rachel covered with Winchesters. Elizabeth lay on the ground sobbing.

  “Get away from her,” Hattie snarled.

  “She was told to stay away from this wagon,” said Embler, “and she didn’t. One of you come forward and take her away, and let this be a warning to you all. Next time—if there is a next time—somebody really gets hurt.”

  Hattie helped Elizabeth to her feet and led her away. Blood dripped from her smashed nose, and her left arm hung useless.