Free Flintlock by William W. Johnstone

has been abandoned for fifteen years and only recently has it been reactivated.”
    â€œThat’s no excuse, Captain. It’s the commanding officer’s duty to see that everything is shipshape and Bristol fashion.”
    â€œThat’s a nautical term, sir. It may apply to a British ship of war, but not to a United States Army frontier post.”
    â€œDamn your eyes, sir, don’t bandy words with me,” Grove said. “Where is your commanding officer?”
    â€œHe’s dead, sir. I am . . . was . . . the commanding officer of this fort.”
    Grove raised a monocle to his right eye, an upper-class affectation Shaw loathed, then said, “Well? Identify yourself, man.”
    Shaw straightened to attention. “Captain Owen Shaw, at your service, sir.”
    â€œWhat happened to the other fellow?”
    â€œMajor Ashton? He was killed by Apaches, sir.”
    â€œHow very careless of him.” Grove’s monocle glinted in the sunlight. “What happened?”
    â€œHe and I were hunting when the hostiles struck. The major fell in the first volley.”
    â€œPah, hunting.” Grove turned to his wife. “Did you hear that, my dear Winnifred? The major was out hunting while his command was falling apart.”
    â€œIt is easy to dodge our responsibilities, but we cannot dodge the consequences of dodging our responsibilities,” the woman said.
    Winnifred Grove had a V-shaped upper lip that overhung the lower one, but loosely, as though a button had once held it up and was now missing.
    Shaw badly wanted to kill her.
    â€œOnce again your common sense educates us all, my dear,” Major Grove said. “Is that not so, Captain?”
    â€œIndeed, sir. A most edifying observation.” Shaw relaxed a little from his stiff pose, aware that his blue shirt was dusty and smelled heavily of sweat. “Does the major wish to tell me why he’s visiting Fort Defiance?”
    â€œYes, the major wishes to tell you. General Crook has informed his field commanders that all hostiles, and I include women, children and old persons in that description, are to be brought to this post. From here they will be taken south to Fort Grant for disposal. My orders are that I will lead the . . . ah . . . exodus, though there may well be others at a later date.”
    Shaw felt a surge of relief. It would take time to round up every Apache in the Arizona and New Mexico territories. More time than he needed.
    But he asked the question anyway. “When can we expect the first of them, sir?”
    â€œI’m told I should expect the women and children to arrive first, possibly in as little as two weeks. The young bucks will follow soon thereafter, those that are still alive.”
    Shaw nodded. He had plenty of time. Then another thought came to him that made him smile inwardly . . . he had time to kill .
    Grove spoke again. “How many men in the garrison, Captain Shaw?”
    â€œTwo officers and fourteen enlisted men, sir. None of them are of the best quality.”
    â€œDoes that include the officers?”
    â€œUnfortunately, yes.”
    â€œWell, I’ll soon whip them into shape, officers and enlisted men. I want the officers to join me and my lady wife for dinner tonight.”
    â€œDoes that whipping into shape include me, sir?”
    â€œShould it?”
    â€œI do my duty, sir.”
    â€œThen your duty lies in getting this fort fit for the arrival of the hostiles. Do I make myself clear?”
    â€œPerfectly. But there is the matter of Geronimo.”
    â€œWhat about him?”
    â€œHe could be a danger to this post, sir.”
    â€œI think with my escort and driver to reinforce the garrison, we have enough fighting men to deal with savages.”
    â€œAs you say, sir.”
    Winnifred Grove coughed and her husband said, “Yes, my dear?”
    â€œWe haven’t spoken yet of those important matters we discussed,” the woman