Free Wolf Creek by Ford Fargo Page A

shooting and those that were
running were coming closer and closer to the ranch.
    “Do you think they’re…”
    “Billy, we don’t have much say in this,
except to keep our heads.”
    Rifle shots sounded nearer and both looked
down and over the wide expanse. They saw a trail of dust and two
riders were pushing their mounts. Behind, a group of other riders
were in pursuit. They watched the slow approach and as they
gradually got nearer, Billy shouted.
    “It’s Patrick! I’d know that paint of his
anywhere. And look! Aaron is riding the grey mustang.”
    “I think you’re right, Billy. You stay up
top and cover me. I’m going down.”
    Kelly ran with rifle in hand across the
roof, opened the door and took steps, two at a time, to the floor
below. Hurrying to the front of the house, he removed the bar and
opened the thick wooden door.
    “Kelly!” shouted Shane. “You can’t go out
there!”
    “Go up top and give me cover!” exclaimed
Kelly. “The two hands are coming hard and I’ve got to…”
    Shane hurried to the door and watched his
brother run for the cover of a stone water trough. The two men on
horseback were advancing and Shane saw Kelly dash towards a small
shed, nearer to the barn. Rifle fire increased and a group of Kiowa
came from behind the barn and stood aiming rifles and bows at the
two men. Kelly raised his weapon and did not fire as the warriors
before him were in line with the approaching cowhands. The Indians
chasing the two men swerved to either side, allowing the Kiowa near
the barn and on foot to open fire. The two ranch hands had no
chance. A flight of arrows and a barrage of bullets from nearly
twenty Kiowa bristled man and beast. Both fell under the deadly
fire and rolled in a cloud of dust. When the firing stopped and the
dust settled, neither man nor animal moved. The four figures lay
sprawled in awkward positions upon the hard ground.
    Kelly, intent on the safety of his two hired
men, looked on with helpless anger. He did not see the warrior
sneak up from behind and strike him on the head. Shane, who had
remained at the open door was fired upon by several Kiowa. The last
thing he saw before closing and barring the door was his brother
being carried by a group of Indians. Running to a shuttered and
closed window, he looked through a small opening and saw the
unconscious man disappear into the barn.
    Shane ran up the steps and through the open
door onto the roof. Claude was there with a heavy bandage on his
arm and holding a rifle. His son Billy was beside him.
    “Did you see…”
    “Yes, we did,” replied Claude.
    “We couldn’t shoot,” said Billy. “First we
thought we would hit Patrick or Aaron, and then that Indian came
from nowhere and struck Kelly and we couldn’t…”
    “I know,” said Shane. “I didn’t shoot either
because I was afraid of hitting Kelly.”
    “What do we do now?” cried Billy. “Patrick
and Aaron are dead and Kelly is with those…”
    “Why did he go out there?” asked Claude.
“That’s not like Kelly to take such a risk.”
    “No, even in the Great War me brother was a
cautious one,” said Shane. “But in this case there were those two
lads he hired and I’m sure…”
    “Look!” exclaimed Billy. “There’s a warrior
on a white horse and a band of men behind him. They have long black
hair and they look different than Kiowa!”
    Shane and Claude both looked out across the
prairie, and approaching were the group of Indians Billy pointed
out. The chief rode stiffly erect, on a blanketed white horse and
behind him followed at least thirty mounted braves in single
file.
    “Kelly could tell what tribe they’re from,
he was...” said Shane and stopped. “I bet they’re Cheyenne or…”
    No one on the roof fired down on the band of
warriors and they approached closer and disappeared behind the barn
as a group.
    ***
    Kelly awoke conscious of the pain in the
back of his head. He could feel blood dripping down and onto his
neck. The