Free McAllister by Matt Chisholm Page A

of the road to keep guard, while the others discussed what they should do. Whilethey did this, Mrs. Bankroft stopped the bleeding in Sam’s cheek where a spent ball had struck him. He declared that had saved his life. It had stunned him and put him out of the fight for a while. That way he hadn’t been shooting and nobody had paid him any attention.
    They discussed the situation this way and that and it was generally agreed that they must return to the train to find if the raiders had left anything of it. Sam cheered the situation slightly by telling them that he had cut all the mules loose he could and that with luck some of them would still be in the rocks.
    Von Tannenberg was bitter and he blamed himself.
    â€œWe should not have split. If we had stayed together we would have had a better chance. To think that I have spent my life soldiering and now I behave like a raw recruit.”
    Mcallister didn’t agree.
    â€œIt on’y looks bad because we lost. If we’d pulled it off we’d be thinking ourselves pretty smart. Anyways, it was my idea.”
    â€œI went along with you. I am responsible.”
    â€œShucks—they had more guns, is all. They had the cover and they were above us. You can’t have many advantages more than that.”
    The lieutenant looked grateful for the opinion, but he didn’t accept it. He looked like a general that had lost an army.
    â€œAnd,” he said, “the gold is lost.”
    Squatting on his haunches and looking up at the officer out of slitted eyes, Mcallister said: “We have to get it un-lost.”
    Sam said: “Aw, hell, Rem, how can we do that?”
    â€œI don’t know. But that’s what we have to do. It’s no affair of us civilians, but that sonovabitch Clover … begging your pardon, ma’am, but I never knew a man that deserved the name more … that Clover, he’s got me all riled up and I reckon I won’t sleep nights till I get a gun lined up with him preferably at about six foot range.” He looked around him. “Anybody seen that damned Indian of mine?”
    They shook their heads.
    â€œReckon he showed Injun sense,” Sam opined, “and broke down timber outa there.”
    â€œMaybe,” Mcallister said, but he didn’t sound convinced. The corporal came scrambling through the rocks.
    â€œRiders coming,” he told them.
    Mcallister got to his feet and limped away to the road. The sun was down and shining in his eyes. Having no hat, he shaded his eyes with a hand and squinted at the oncoming men. He couldn’t see much in the dust, but it looked to him as though there were three of them. He called to the others and told them to get down in the rocks. Not to make a move till he did. They scrambled into position and waited.
    It turned out to be George Rawlins and his brother Jack followed by the Navajo. They pulled up at the sight of the others and dismounted. Handshakes all around followed and the three men told what they could. Sure it was all over back there and the Clover gang had departed. Yeah, they’d swear on their lives it was the Clover boys. Franchon was there too. They’d killed the Apache prisoner. Just put a gun at his head and blown his brains all over the inside of the wagon.
    â€œBut my men,” von Tannenberg wanted to know. “Are any of them alive?”
    â€œSure,” Jack said. “There’s a couple of ’em standing guard over a half-dozen sabers back there.”
    Von Tannenberg ran to his horse and mounted.
    Mcallister said: “José, get onto high ground and check that Clover’s on his way.” The big Indian nodded and sent his pony through the rocks at a reckless run. The rest of them mounted, Mcallister taking the woman up in front of him, and set off down the road at a brisk trot. By the time they reached the wagons, complete dark had fallen over the land. A momentary dusk and then darkness so thick they