Headquarters was a shambles now, the windows an d door blocked with broken furniture, the floor littere d with empty shells. Broken boxes of ammunition la y about, and in the corners stood the barrels of water, th e supply already much lowered.
Kilrone stretched out on the floor beside Ryerson an d Lahey. Reinhardt, Teale, and Rudio were actuall y asleep, some distance away. Hopkins, Kells, and th e women stood guard at the windows.
He felt utter exhaustion. There was a dull, throbbin g ache in his head, complete weariness in every muscle. He lay still, his eyes closed, trying to think.
He believed it was unlikely the Indians would tr y again to enter through the roof. But somebody migh t still be alive up there. This was probably so, and a liv e Indian, especially a wounded one, was a dangerous Indian.
Yet if they wished to escape, that was the way the y had to go.
He thought again of Gus Rybolt, headed this way an d not far off now, riding forward unsuspectingly with hi s guard of six men. Iron Dave Sproul himself or som e trusted envoy could meet the detail in a likely spot fo r an ambush. Kilrone felt quite sure that Sproul woul d send somebody else, some expendable man, and let hi m be killed along with the others. He would use Indians , for they would prefer the rifles he had to the money i n the wagon.
The chances were the man would be sent to war n Rybolt. Sent to a specific place where there would be a n excuse for him to wait and not ride on. That woul d mean a cross-place that offered concealment for a goo d body of Indians; a chance for one quick, smashing volley , with several guns aimed at each man. The whol e thing could be over in a matter of minutes, Rybolt an d his guard massacred, Sproul’s messenger dead, or if h e did get away, only able to say that he had been sen t there to warn Rybolt.
The more Kilrone thought of it, the more he believe d this was what would happen. He hoped he was wrong , but he could not make himself believe it.
And how long before help would arrive here at th e post? There was no calculating on that. If they starte d back at once … if they took a leisurely or a hurrie d pace … if they were not attacked themselves …
It would be one day more … two days … And whe n they arrived there would still be four or more Indian s for every white soldier.
But Paddock would be sober; and sober, he was a good soldier. And Mellett would be there, a fightin g veteran who knew what to do and when to do it.
He was dead-tired, weary in every part of his body.
And Barnes Kilrone, ex-officer in the Army of th e United States, thinking of these things, fell asleep a t last.
Betty came to him with a blanket and stretched i t over him. Denise Paddock looked at her and smile d wanly. “He is a good man, Betty, one of the best A goo d man and a gentleman.”
Betty looked down at him soberly. “I think so,” sh e said, “but I don’t think he has even noticed me.”
“Don’t be foolish! Barnes Kilrone never missed seein g a pretty woman in his life. Particularly,” Denise added , “if she had good legs, and yours are beautiful.”
Betty flushed. “I don’t think he knows I’m alive,” sh e said.
“He’s been rather busy,” Denise said dryly; “give hi m time.” She looked over at Kilrone. “This is his Me, yo u know. I know of no man so trained and conditioned fo r fighting. I mean mentally conditioned. Frank himself ha s often said that. I think one of the reasons why h e believes I still love Barnes is because he admires him s o much. He said he never knew a man with such a n immediate and instinctive grasp of a battle situation.”
Alice Dunivant came up to them. “Mrs. Paddock,” sh e said, “please get some rest. I can take care of Tim.”
Betty glanced around, suddenly remembering the India n girl.
Mary Tall Singer sat huddled in a corner, a blanke t over her head. She sat very still, staring at the floor. He r features were dimly visible in the vague light from th e shielded kerosene lantern on the floor. Betty remembere d then that she had neither moved nor spoken sinc e being brought to Headquarters by Kilrone. The though t worried her. Yet these were her people who were ou t there, and some of them had died up there in the loft.
It was not a good thing to think about. And Mar y must now be wondering where she belonged—in her e with her adopted people, or out there with the Indians.
When Denise had gone to lie down, Alice Dunivan t came over to stand beside Betty. It was very quiet now.
No sound or movement came from above. Alice kep t looking up at the ceiling. “I wonder if any of them ar e still alive?” she said. “It’s horrible to think of them u p there dead or dying.”
*Tt would be worse to think of them down here … a live,” Betty replied shortly. “That would be the last o f us.”
“I know. I wonder how he thought of it. I mean , shooting through the ceiling like that You would think a board would stop a bullet.”
“One of these rifles or pistols will easily shoot throug h boards like that. I have heard Uncle Carter talkin g about it.”
Barney Kilrone slept for two hours. A struggle at th e door awakened him—a struggle, followed by a sho t He lunged to his feet. Kells was fighting with tw o Indians who were forcing their way through the door. A t that moment there was an explosion in the inner room.
Kilrone palmed his gun and fired, his bullet smashin g one of the Indians back into the darkness from which h e had come. Kells fell, and the other Indian leaped pas t him and into the room. In an instant the doorway wa s filled with them.
The Indian who had leaped into the room, a warrio r of powerful build, had grabbed Betty as she came runnin g from the other room and spun her toward him.
From the corner of his eye Kilrone saw that, but he ha d no time to act on that, for he had opened up with hi s six-shooter on the packed mass, struggling to get into th e room.
Teale, who also had been sleeping, lunged in, swingin g his clubbed rifle. The butt struck an Indian on th e skull, and Teale, grasping the rifle with both hands , waded in, striking first with one end, then the other.
Kilrone, shoving his empty gun into its holster, whippe d his bowie knife from its sheath and closed with th e nearest Indian. Behind him he heard a scream … h e dared not turn. If once the Indians broke through thi s door the battle would be lost. They would all be “dea d within minutes, including the women and children in th e other room.
Suddenly the attack broke. One last Indian at th e door swung at him with a knife and Kilrone parried th e blade with his own, then lunged, the knife’s cutting edg e up. It sank into the Indian’s belly, and he ripped i t upward, the keen, heavy blade cutting through th e breastbone. The Indian fell forward and, grasping hi m by the hair, Kilrone pitched him back out of the door.
Swiftly, they repiled the broken door and broken furnitur e across the opening. Only then could Kilrone turn.
The Indian who had gotten into the room was dead.
He lay sprawled on the floor, the back of his skul l crushed.
“She did it,” Betty said, indicating Mary Tall Singer.
“He would have killed me.”
The Indian girl had ripped the Indian’s own tomahaw k from his belt and struck him with it. She still hel d it now, looking down at the dead man. “I know him,” s he said. “He came often to my father’s lodge.”
‘It was a brave thing you did,” Kilrone said quietly, “a very brave thing.”
Martha Whitman and Alice Dunivant were kneelin g beside Kells. The teamster was in a bad way. A bulle t had gone through his body and his skull had taken a wicked blow from a tomahawk or hand-axe.
Kilrone went from window to window. The hours o f darkness grew fewer, and still he had not decided wha t to do. Did he dare make an attempt to break out t o Warn Rybolt of what was coming? Did Rybolt need th e warning? Barring something unforeseen, Gus Rybol t would be coming into the likely ambush area within th e next twelve hours.
Did he dare even think of leaving here when th e defenders and their defenses were growing more an d mo
re battered? Every rifle would count. Yet he migh t get a messenger off from Rybolt to Paddocksomething , anything, to speed him up.
He would need a horse. That meant getting one fro m the Indians; or better still, one from Hog Town. Ther e should be horses there, for there had been no signs o f fighting in that direction, and no flames.
But before he could think of leaving, they must mov e to the warehouse and carry on what fighting they had t o do from there. His original idea of defending all thre e buildings had been good enough then, but it was n o longer so. If they intended to protect the rifles an d ammunition from Medicine Dog, they could only do i t from the warehouse. And whatever was to be done mus t be done soon.
Kells and Ryerson were out of action, and in th e warehouse Mendel was in as bad a state. Every fe w minutes a bullet smashed through one of the windows o r the door and ricocheted across the room. So far the y had done no damage.
He looked up at the trap door, wondering what th e chances were. What if there was an Indian alive u p there? An Indian with a breath of life in him neve r stopped fighting. Nonetheless, if the move was to b e made it must be from roof to roof.
Teale came up to him. “Cap, if you’re thinking what I t hink you’re thinking, you better have another think.”
“What do you mean?”
“The moon, Cap Kilrone, the moon. It’ll be comin’ u p within the hour. Once that moon’s in the sky, you ain’t got a chance.”
He was right, of course, and there was a good chanc e the Indians were waiting for that moon. They probabl y had plans. The Bannocks did not mind fighting at night—n ot Medicine Dog’s men, at least.
“Denise, get Sergeant Ryerson and Kells ready. The y will have to go first, then the children.”
“Without their mothers?”
“No, they will have to go, too.” He turned. “Reinhardt , are you a builder? I think I heard somebody say you’d been a carpenter?”
“Yes, sir. That’s right.”
Briefly, quickly, he explained. “Rudio, you take th e door. Keep your eyes open all the time. Hopkins, you g o to the back window again. Teale, you work around fro m window to window. Shoot at anything that moves ou t there.”
There was a stepladder in the closet. Kilrone got i t out, took his gun in his right hand, and went up th e ladder. While the others waited tensely, he eased th e trap door to one side. Nothing happened. He hesitated , feeling the cold sweat down his spine. When he stuc k his head up there he might get a bullet through it. He glanced down at the upturned faces, showing faintl y pale in the gloom. Teale had his rifle lifted, ready for a shot.
Kilrone hesitated a moment longer, then removed hi s hat, put it on the point of his pistol and lifted it slowly.
Nothing happened.
He knew suddenly that he’d made a mistake. If ther e was anyone up there they would be watching not onl y for his head to appear, but listening for the grate of hi s foot on the stepladder or for the creak of the ladde r rung.
Again he started to lift the hat, and as he did so he le t his boot slide off the rung and lift. Instantly a gu n bellowed, his hat jerked on the gun muzzle, and in tha t same instant Teale fired and Kilrone went through th e trap door with a lunge.
The Indian was no more then ten feet away, and a s he started to rise the movement stirred against the ceilin g and Teale fired again. There was a jerk and th e thump of a heel, then a slow exhalation of breath … a nd silence.
Through the trap to the roof Kilrone could see tw o stars, and a broad sky. Shielding the glow with his hand , he struck a match.
There were four Indians, all dead. He blew out th e match, then eased himself through the trap roof. The ai r was fresh and cool. He lay still a moment, breathin g deeply; then he slid along the roof to the parapet , gingerly lifting his head, expecting the concussion of a blow at any instant. All remained dark and still, with a few scattered clouds overhead and many stars.
Across the twelve-foot space, the roof of the warehous e seemed equally empty.
Was the sky already lighter from the moon? Or wa s that his imagination? Did they dare risk it?
In any event, there was little time left. The bodies o f the four Indians were brought up and tumbled from th e roof; the joists were ripped out and lowered into positio n to span the gap between the two buildings. Fou r joists were laid a few inches apart, with cross-pieces tie d in place with rawhide string. The bridge they made wa s flimsy, and it was dangerous, but that was a chance the y had to take. They worked swiftly, helped from time t o time by one of the other men, and by the women. Wel l within the hour they had brought the children one b y one to the roof-top.
“I will go first,” Denise said. “It will be better if I tr y it, and the children can come to me on the other side.”
She got down on her hands and knees and crawle d across. After a moment, they sent the first child across , with Martha Whitman close behind. The others followe d carefully, one by one.
Now the sky was growing faintly gray. There wa s little time left.
“Get Ryerson and Kells,” Kilrone said.
He had kept that till the last, knowing the risk ther e would be in moving the two wounded men. It would b e a slow process, and the feeble bridge might even collaps e under them.
“How will you do it, Cap?” Ryerson asked. “I am a heavy man.”
“Well slide you on a plank. We don’t have a stretcher , and the plank is narrow, but if you lie still and help t o balance yourself, I think we can do it.”
And they did.
At the end, there were six of them remaining in th e Headquarters building.
“All right, Hopkins. You first*
“Look, Kilrone.”
“You first, I said. No nonsense now. There’s no time t o waste.”
Hopkins went, and they could watch him all the wa y across. How had the Indians missed seeing them, Kilron e wondered. They must be watching, and now it could b e only a matter of minutes …
“Rudio, quickly nowl Then Reinhardt, then Lahey.”
“Figure I’m the one you could lose best? The world’s better off without me, or something like that?”
“Hell, nol You’re the man I want with me if we have t o make a fight of it.” Lahey was already crawling out o n the makeshift bridge, close on Reinhardt’s heels.
The Indians saw them then, and a dozen rifles fired a t once. Kilrone, on his knees on the roof behind the parapet, saw the dawn blossom with spots of fire from th e rifles, and he shot quickly, firing at the flash. Teale wa s down beside him.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw that Rudio ha d made the roof, saw him wheel and open fire, “saw hi s body jerk with the impact of bullets—and then saw hi m fall forward and slip slowly from sight behind the parapet.
Teale fired a quick shot, ran, and dropped to his knee , firing again a bit to the left of a brown shoulder he saw.
Kilrone, behind their parapet, waited, hearing the ugl y sound of ricocheting bullets and, against the wall belo w him, the thud of their strike.
He glanced over at Teale. “Think you could run ove r that?”
Teale grinned. “Ain’t no other way, Kilrone. You wit h me?”
“You go first,” Kilrone said. “I hope that thing doesn’t fold up under you.”
Teale reloaded his rifle, took a look at the narro w bridge, and crouched, ready. In the growing light the y could see that the outer joist had developed a long split.
There was an obvious sag in the middle, which mean t that one of the other joists might also be broken. It wa s likely that only the crawling movement of those who ha d gone before had saved the makeshift contrivance; fo r by crawling, their weight was stretched over a wide r area and did not put so much strain on the bridge. Bu t now it was no longer a matter of crawling. Their onl y chance was in running.
Teale braced himself, then suddenly he was moving.
He went up in a charging lunge;
one foot hit the top o f the parapet and the other hit the bridge almost four fee t out. Instantly a terrific cannonade of shooting broke ou t as the Bannocks tried to get him. He was running full-til t now. His second stride carried him another four feet, bu t when his boot hit the bridge there was an ominous crac k and the bridge broke under him. He caught the edge o f the parapet ahead and threw himself over as hand s reached to help him.
Barney Kilrone crouched alone on the roof. They ha d him now. Could he jump the twelve feet? Without th e parapet, he was sure he could have done it, but with i t there was no chance for a running start, which he woul d need.
Suddenly there was a yell, and he saw Reinhard t pointing. Down the parade ground was a mass of horses , at least two hundred of them, and with shrill yells an d shots the Indians were starting them again, to repea t their charge of the previous day.
Teale!” Kilrone shouted.
The ex-cowboy turned and he called across to him.
I’m going to warn Ryboltl” He called just loud enoug h for Teale to hear him, and he did.
Wheeling, Kilrone darted to the trap door and wen t down the ladder, and ran swiftly to the window tha t opened on the gap between the buildings. The horse s were coming now, and behind them a hundred charging , yelling Indians.
Dropping his rifle, he crouched by the window. Goin g through the gap there would be a time when the horse s would jam up. He had taken many a flying mount, an d this would not be hard … if he was not seen.
They came with a rush, and he threw himself fro m the window at a big gray. He caught the mane , mounted, and slid off to the side, only one leg across th e horse’s back, Indian fashion.
The horse burst through on the other side and wen t charging in a mass_ toward the brush and the plain s beyond, and as they hit the brush Kilrone rolled over o n his horse’s back and slapped him with his palm.
Had he been seen? There was no telling, and s o many shots had been flying that he could not tell if an y were aimed at him. The big gray was one horse in a mass of others.
Charging into the thicker brush, he guided the hors e and suddenly turned at right angles, and instead o f rushing straight ahead with the rest, he rode south , keeping the wall of brush between himself and th e fighting Indians. Their eyes, though, were directe d toward the fort, away from him.