Buchanan's Seige (20 page)

"Women and all?" asked Bradbury.

"They had their chance. It's got to be clean, now. Then
.. . well, Pollard's makin' demands. He wants the Bar-B."

"Pollard? He wants to own the Bar-B?"

"He hired those gunners. He's got Tanner and Geer on
his side. What can I do?"

"I wouldn't expect you to do anything," said Bradbury heavily. Consuela moved, her hand hidden in the voluminous folds of her skirt. "Nor Morgan."

"We been friends a long time. Morgan's drunk, he don't count. No, I got to look out for you best I can."

"Look out for us? How?"

"The carriage. Miguel can drive you. Take off and keep goin' until you hear from me," Fox said rapidly.

"And where would we go to be safe?"

"Sheridan . . . Cheyenne. . . . Just don't say nothin', lay
low. I'll do what I can here."

Miguel said in Spanish, "Do not believe him. He lies."

"Hush. Do as he says," Consuela answered in the same
language.

Miguel hesitated, then went for the horses. Consuela
smiled at Dealer Fox.

"It is good of you to allow us to escape. Morgan and
Pollard would have killed us."

"Yes. They spoke of it."

"And made it look like an accident," she went on. Mi
guel was hitching up the team.

"That was the idea," said Fox. "I couldn't hold still for
that, after all we been through."

"All the years buildin' the country," said Bradbury. He
put the rifle into the carriage. "So you're goin' to finish 'em
down there, are you?"

"Sime figured it all out. We got the men in the trees,
there, to keep 'em holed up. With the wagons and some
dynamite ... it'll be over in a few minutes."

Miguel climbed to the seat and picked up the reins. Fox came a little closer in the dim light. "Goodbye for a while.
You can depend on it, I'll be in touch."

"Yeah," said Bradbury. He turned and helped Consuela
into the carriage. Then he suddenly wheeled and faced
Fox.

In his eagerness, Fox had taken the dynamite stick from
his pocket and was reaching for a taper. Perhaps he
thought the uncertain light would conceal his intent. Perhaps his nerve had nearly given out, and he had to make a
move.

Bradbury went for his holster gun. He hadn't drawn in
years, in fact he had never been fast. Fox struck the
match.

Consuela's hand came from her wide skirt. She had not
relinquished the revolver. She lifted it and fired.

Fox spun around. Bradbury's Colt cleared. He shot Fox
through the head. The match fell atop the slumping
burned a moment, flickered out with the life of the man.

Consuela said, "I saw it in his eyes. And so did you,
husband."

"Yes. I saw it."

Miguel said, "That
man, he could not tell a truth.
Should we go now?"

They looked at one another. They shook their heads.

Bradbury said, "No. Pollard's alive. Pollard wants the
Bar-B. Pollard!"

"Morgan's alive," said Consuela. "He will join with
Pollard."

Miguel said, "I think we must kill them, then."

There was a sound behind them, a man coughed. They
whirled and stared into the huge muzzle of a Sharps rifle.

Dan Badger was watching them.

"Miz Bradbury, gents," said the mountain man, "I seen
it all. Might've shot him myself. Aim to do a little shootin'

afore this is over. Mought advise you all. Stay close, folley
me. Could be a help."

"But they'll kill those people in the Kovacs' house."

"Could be. In that case . . . we'll all go with 'em." The
deepset eyes blazed at them. None of the three cared to

deny him.

Buchanan squinted at the sky. It was pink, and it would
be red, Wyoming red. All the signs pointed to a hot day.
He lay there on the roof, pinned down by constant firing
from the trees. It was at great risk that he kept any kind of watch on the knoll from whence he knew the attack had to
come.

He said to Coco, "Don't lift your head. Believe me.
Stay down low and wait until I tell you to move."

"Don't you worry about me. Them bullets sound like a
mess of hornets to me."

"They kill quicker."

"I don't even like hornets. I been bit by hornets."

"They got to begin," Buchanan muttered. "The Whe
lans will see 'em first, no doubt. If we hear the Whelans
begin to shoot, we'll know."

"Yeah, but what good'll that do if you can't see?"

"Just have to risk it." He removed his hat and put it on
the muzzle of the rifle. He raised it slowly above the parapet. It was promptly riddled with bullets.

"They got enough light to line
up on us. They never did
have that many good shooters in the trees. Means they got somethin' real hot planned for us this time."

Coco said, "Don't say that. It gets any hotter, I ain't
goin' to be here. I'll be melted clean away."

Buchanan himself wa
s sweating. The women below and
the nature of the fight
—for the rights of citizens—com
bined to make this the most meaningful battle of his life
on the frontier. And it seemed to be a fight he could not
win.

Perhaps he had been wrong to stake out the roof. He
could not make a move so long as the sharpshooters in the
trees concentrated their fire upon him. Maybe he should
go down and join the Whelans in the barn.

Some instinct of battle had made him choose this stand. Even now it nagged at him, held him there, his hat full of
bullet holes, depending upon his ears and his highly devel
oped sense of imminent and dangerous action to guide
him.

He heard the sound of firing from the barn. The Whe
lans were involved. He managed a one-eyed peek above
the parapet.

There were two wagons already started down the incline from the top of the hill. Men were pushing, also
clinging to the sides, dangling their legs to provide no tar
gets for the Whelans. A part detached itself and went
toward the barn, firing rifles, ready with revolvers, and
Buchanan prayed for the brave former outlaw and his
saloon-girl wife.

There were men in the first wagon. He recognized Tan
ner and Geer. He saw them pick up sticks of dynamite,
just like those that were beside him. Both sides had ar
rived at the same conclusion; explosives would turn the
tide, he realized.
The fire from the trees c
ontinued. He showed an eye, an
d a bullet barely missed
him. It was dawn now, the sun
rising bright, the clouds scudding before its bright gleam.
Buchanan did not bother to reach for his rifle. He would
be dead before he could get in a shot.
.,

The first wagon was coming closer. Geer was lighting
the fuse on one of the dy
namite bombs. Buchanan knew it
would be directed at the house, where Trevor and Weevil
were firing as fast as they could, knocking over a man
here, hitting a leg there, doing their best to stop the inexo
rable advance of the wagons.

Buchanan found his own three-stick bomb. He looked
at Coco and said, "This might be it for me. Can you light
the rest of 'e
m
and throw 'em down?"

"If they get you, I'll be able to do it." Coco's eyes were
bright with tears. "Lemme try it first? You can shoot if I
don't make it."

"Not your turn," said Buchanan. "My bombs, I made
'em." He winked and grinned at his friend.

Then he got to his knees. He fully expected at least one bullet to strike him then and there. He lit the fuse with his
match. He reached back and threw for the wagon, full
arm, with all his strength. Then he ducked. He was as
tounded to find himself unhurt.

He managed to pop his head back up. He saw his bomb
descend upon the first wagon just as Geer tried to throw at
the house. There was a shattering explosion. The wagon
blew apart. Geer, Tanner, and the men with them van
ished.

The echoes had not died when Buchanan heard another
sound. It was the booming of the Sharps rifle. The shooting from the trees had magically ceased. Buchanan let out
a whoop.

The second wagon came on. Pollard and Morgan Crane stood in the body. Pollard swung and a sputtering bomb
described a parabola. It was going to land inside the
house, through one of the high narrow windows.

It was ticketed for the death of all within. It could kill Coco and Buchanan on the roof. It could be the end.

Buchanan lunged. Reaching far out over the edge of the
parapet, he thrust out a long arm.

His eye was sure, he fielded the bomb. Quickly he let it go, flinging it back from when it came.

Coco threw himself across Buchanan's legs. With one
hand, he grabbed at the collar of the shirt, holding it for
one moment, feeling it rip. Then he had shifted position.

The bomb went off. It had not quite reached the wagon.
Pollard and Crane leaped free.

Buchanan yelled, "Let me down, Coco. Easy does it."

Coco's ribs were caving in. He made one huge effort. He swung Buchanan around, got hold of his wrists. The big man hung a moment, like a pendulum. Shots narrow
ly missed him. Then Coco let go and Buchanan dropped
to earth.

He landed on his feet. He drew his revolver in the same instant.

Pollard was firing. Buchanan did not move. He sent a
bullet crashing through the cowman's heart. He spun and
saw Morgan Crane with a rifle pointed. He shot Crane
clean out of the body of the wagon in which he had been
hiding.

The Sharps boomed again. Men came running from the
trees with their hands over their heads. Brown men drew
the bowstrings and let loose arrows. There were shouts of
"We surrender!"

Buchanan stared in disbelief. Around the corner of the
barn came the Whelans. They were surrounded and
backed by Indians with quivers of arrows and long hunt
ing bows.

A quiet fell upon the battle scene. A pony and a tall
mule trotted into the clearing before the house, daintily
picking their way among the dead and wounded. Raven
rode the mule. On the back of the spotted pony was a
small, wizened man who wore the headdress of a chieftain.

Badger came swinging down from the trees, followed by
other Indians. Consuela and Brad Bradbury preceded the
mountain man.

The siege was broken. The fight was ended, all the leaders disposed of, the issue settled for this time and place.
Buchanan drew a deep breath.

"Well, Colonel?"

Badger spoke up. "He got Dealer Fox. I seen it. They
was holdin' him under guard."

Consuela pleaded, "He was not responsible for the
lynching of Adam Day. You know he sent for you, trying
to prevent bloodshed."

"I know he acted like a damn fool back there in town,"
said Buchanan.

"I admit it," said Bradbury. His face contorted. "I
’
ll do
anything I can, Tom. Anything."

"I'm no judge," Buchanan told him. He looked at
Badger. "Raven brought the Crow?"

"She did. 'Twarn't my idee." Worry creased his brow.
"They ain't supposed to fight, y' know. Could make big trouble for them."

Chinook rode his spotted pony in close, spoke in his na
tive language to Badger.

The mountain man said, "Anything for his granddaughter, he says. Because she loves the Kovacses."

The tiny old chief sat tall on the saddle blanket. Bu
chanan looked thoughtfully around. He brightened.

"Those prisoners," he commanded. "See that they col
lect all the arrows. Every last one, you hear?"

"Yes, sir," said Miguel, who still clutched his shotgun.

"Whelan, take charge there. See that they take care of their own wounded. Get rid of every evidence that there
was an Indian around here. Understand?"

"They saved us back there." Fay pointed to the barn.
"We were goners when they rode in."

"Uh-huh." He turned back to Bradbury. "You never
saw an Indian, did you, Colonel?"

Bradbury said steadily, "I'll swear to that along with
plenty of other things."

"Uh-huh. Other things. Amanda Day. The house and
grounds belongin' to the Kovacses. The Whelan ranch. You
can't bring back Durkin nor his men nor the hog farmers.
But you can see to their property if they got relatives."

"I swear to see to it all," said Bradbury. "I'll take care
of the association, too. This here was all wrong. Maybe I seen it too late, but I know it now."

"He knows," said Consuela. "On my children's heads I
swear to help him."

Buchanan said, "I believe you. As to the rest, it's up to
the people. It ain't goin' to be easy. These things ain't easy
forgotten. If I was you, I'd start right now."

"Got a carriage," said Bradbury. "Maybe we should get
back to town and get the telegraph wire up and all."

"And Weevil's hotel. Don't forget that you owe him."

"If it takes every cow I own, Tom."

Buchanan bowed to Consuela and watched them follow
the loyal Miguel back up to the trees from which so much
harm had come.

Badger said, "Looks like we made Christians of 'em."

"Brad wasn't a bad man," Buchanan said. "Trouble is,
people get so much, they scare easy."

"And pick up with evil companions," Badger said. "The Lord moves in mysterious ways, his miracles to perform."

Buchanan looked at Chinook, the chief of the Crow tribe. "Reckon you're right. He moved the Crow down
here in time to clear out the sharpshooters. They had me
tied down."

Badger spoke to Chinook. The old man's lined face
cracked in a broad grin. "People good to Indian girl. Indi
ans good to people. We go, now. No been here?"

"No been here," Buchanan said. "'Ceptin' I'll be
comin' your way soon. Like maybe there's some little thing I can do." Whelan and Fay were distributing the
used arrows.

Chinook lifted a hand. His braves rode to form a circle.
Still smiling, the little chief turned toward the mountains
and led them into the growing heat of the morning.

Badger said, "Knowed him many a long year. I'll just
say howdy to Raven. Then I'll be moseyin' along."

They went into the house. Jenny Kovacs was holding
Raven in her arms. Trevor and Weevil were washing gun
powder from faces and hands in the kitchen. Pieter Ko
vacs stood, stone-faced, surveying the damage to his
house. Coco came to Buchanan. Amanda followed, her
face shining, her color restored.

Buchanan said, "Coco saved the whole shebang. I'd
have broke my fool neck and maybe blown up the joint if he hadn't grabbed me."

"That Injun gal. Minute she come around, the voodoo
worked," Coco said.

Buchanan said, "Holy cow!"

"What?"

"That dynamite! On the roof."

Coco showed all of his white teeth. "Don't you worry. I done brought that down with me. See?"

He began to pull the bombs out of his pocket. Buchan
an let out another yelp.

Coco had neglected to remove the caps and fuses.

Buchanan gathered them lovingly and ran outdoors.
Trevor lounged out, his arm in a sling.

"I say, old boy. Bit of a mess, now, wasn't it?"

The disarmed prisoners, in fear for their lives, were
cleaning up. Mangled bodies were being carried to the
trench behind the knoll. Drivers took wagons full of
wounded toward the town. Buchanan removed the fuses
with great care.

"A lot of work to do," he said. "You ready to tell a
heap of lies to the association?"

"If the truth won't serve."

"You and Brad."

"Yes, I understand. We'll work it out, make repara
tions, all that. Rebuild. . . . We all have a stake in this
country, what?"

"I don't know how Kovacs is goin' to take it. Or the
Whelans. This was a bad time. Best you should sorta
promise them help."

"Will they believe me?"

Buchanan disarmed the last sticks of dynamite. "You
got a way with you. Reckon you can do it if you want to
bad enough."

Buchanan made a neat stack of the dynamite sticks. He
handed them to Trevor. "Could be u
s
eful for buildin' as
well as tearin' down," he suggested. "Got to think of it
thataway."

He went back to the house. Amanda was waiting for
him. They
walked into the kitchen, she
of
f
ered a huge
sandwich.

"I thought you might be hungry."

He accepted it. "You always guess right."

"So it's over."

"This part is over."

"And you?"

"Me?" He sat down. Raven and the Kovacses and the Englishman were in a consultation. Fay Whelan came in,
listened, joined them. Coco and Weevil listened with inter
est. "I'll be movin' on."

"Where to?"

"Well." He bit into the sandwich and considered. She
was in earnest, she wanted to know. He swallowed. "First
off, to town. Weevil's got a bath, hot water and all, if they
didn't tear it down. Kinda rest up a couple days, maybe.
See how things begin to work out."

She asked abruptly, "You wouldn't be interested in tak
ing over my place?"

"Your place? A farm?" He shook his head. "Not even if
it was Bradbury's Bar-B. No. Me and Coco, we move
around, separate, meet up. It's a life."

"No women, Buchanan?" She stared at him boldly.

"Women don't cotton to a wanderin' man. They want
. . . well, like they want a farmer."

She did not flinch. "I'm no farm woman. I learned that.
I learned it the bitter way."

Buchanan said, "When you get organized and all, I'll be
in town. Maybe I can help you sell the farm. Or some
thin'."

She said, "Will you? I like that." She smiled. "I particularly like that last."

"Somethin'?"

"Something," she said. She went to where Trevor was
laying the plans for reparations that Bradbury would have
to carry through.

Coco said, "Can we leave now?"

"Catch up a couple horses," Buchanan told him. He
finished the sandwich with one more huge bite.

Coco said, "You know what?"

"I got an idea."

"You have, huh?"

"Sure. Every time we get through one of these rangdoo
dles you want to fight me. Only this time you can't because
you got your ribs busted."

"That ain't all I was thinkin'. It's about that little old
Injun gal. Reckon it'd be okay for me to come by some
time and look her up?"

"Why not?"

Coco said contentedly, "That's just what I thought.
Why not? Okay, let's get them hosses."

Buchanan led the way out the back door. There was nothing left for him to do here at this place. It had been a
rough time, but he had done what he could, and it had
ended well enough, as well as could be expected. The
country would continue to open up, there would be other wars, other problems, but his part was played, the curtain
was down. He needed a bath, sleep, a day or two of rest.
He needed a good hot meal, properly cooked.

As to Amanda, he would let that rest. He was a peace
able man, and she was strong-willed. Dead game but awful
strong. A school teacher. Maybe she should go back to
San Francisco like she had planned. Maybe he would see
her there sometime.

He had nothing more to say to the others. He took
down two saddles from the corral rail where they had
somehow remained through the entire siege. It was time to
ride. The free life lay ahead. Tomorrow would always be
another adventure.