Free McAllister by Matt Chisholm Page B

could not see the ears of their mounts. They were at a loss now, being helpless in the darkness, but not daring to light a lamp, if they could find one, till they heard from José whether the raiders had gone. The chances were that the light had not been good enough for the Indian to see any distance.
    But they decided they would take the risk. They had to do something. First off, they lit a lamp in one of the wagons to see what remained to them. The raiders it appeared had taken nothing but the gold and some of their supplies. McAllister’s supply wagon was almost untouched. They scattered out through the rocks calling, trying to locate their wounded. One soldier came out of cover. He was an Italian trooper by the name of Remo Benedetti and he seemed to have forgotten any English that he had ever known in hisexcitement and horror. He told how the Clover boys had killed the Indian, then set about systematically killing the wounded. He had heard Clover himself describe the process as “eliminating witnesses.” Mcallister then saw that everybody had a drink of strong liquor; they got the spades out and the picks and started digging graves. They didn’t feel like talking. They all felt like hell—and getting hold of Clover and using some ancient and time-proven Apache torture on him.
    â€œAnd, by Gawd,” Mcallister said, “if I have my way, I’ll give every man the chance of that.”
    The lieutenant said some good and solemn last words and Sam Pritchard damned the souls heartily of the raiders that had been killed. They were two of them. After that, Mrs. Bankroft set about finding the men something to eat and von Tannenberg took Mcallister aside.
    â€œAt dawn we must hitch what mules we can to the wagons and go as fast as we can to the Fort.” He coughed apologetically. “I do not suppose that you would sacrifice your stores for the sake of speed. There is a chance that Gato is within a hundred miles of here and if he is that, he will find us.”
    â€œNo,” Mcallister told him. “I ain’t sacrificing anything, mister. I was wrong today. But I ain’t going to be wrong once more. We gather the mules that have to be loose around here, then you head for the Fort.”
    Reading between the words, as it were, the soldier knew what was in McAllister’s mind.
    â€œAnd you?” he asked.
    â€œMe? Why, I’m going after that sonovabitch Clover.”
    â€œNo, my friend. I know the gold is worth much and there is nothing I would like more than to have it back. But enough men have died for it already. You stay with me.”
    Mcallister told him: “Catching Clover ain’t as bad as it sounds. He’ll be pretty damn sure he’s hit us so hard we can’t move.”
    â€œIt’s still crazy and I will not allow it.”
    â€œNow, wait a minute—”
    â€œThis is a military train and I am in charge here.”
    â€œYou’re sure making me tremble. Mister, I’ve bin trailing men like Clover and giving ’em their com-uppance since I was knee-high to a prairie-dog. You’re going to look pretty sick when you stand in front of Bill Browning and tell himyou lost the pay-roll. Have you stopped to think what’ll happen with those soldiers when they hear they still ain’t going to be paid?”
    Von Tannenberg sighed.
    â€œThere you have touched a sore point.”
    â€œSo I go. If there wasn’t any gold, I’d still go. I’d go and git me that bastard if there was just me and a mule left.”
    The soldier said: “You’re sure it can be done?”
    â€œIt’s going to be done.”
    There was silence between them while von Tannenberg thought about it. Finally, he said: “I suggest that you take the best one of your men and a soldier with you.”
    Mcallister said: “No, I go alone, travel light and fast.”
    â€œBut Clover has men with him. You cannot