Cantrell had been pondering what to do if the deserters decided to hole up for awhile. The sound of the door rattling interrupted his thinking and he shifted just slightly to tug the Winchester tighter to his shoulder. His thumb pulled back the hammer with a few soft clicks. He had not wanted to accidentally fire a shot so he had lowered the hammer while he waited. He could hear some raised voices and then the unmistakable sound of a slap that interrupted the girl's protests.
Suddenly the door swung open and the girl and one of the deserters came out almost together. His hand was wrapped in the back of her dress and he was trying to wield a Winchester one handed. The other deserter was carrying their saddlebags and a carbine. Cantrell decided to let them get well clear of the door to prevent any sudden dashes back for cover. He rested the front sight on the one holding the girl and paced their movement along the porch. He was figuring they would stop for a peek at the end of the porch and waited. Sure enough, they came to a stop and the lead deserter's head turned left and right to survey the area and their mounts.
Cantrell inhaled, then let out half a breath and squeezed the trigger. The Winchester barely moved due to how snug he had it against his shoulder. He honestly couldn't remember hearing the shot later. His hand smoothly worked the lever as he swung toward the other deserter...
Patience, an Apache virtue, they were in no hurry when the quarry was close at hand. They were said to be the masters of the waiting game and had repeatedly proven it against many enemies, Indian, Mexican, and American. To wait on a foe increased the sense of victory. But for Ke-Ni-Tay this was simply waiting for the mistake he was sure the white men would make once the soldiers rode away.
For the Apache, it came quickly, but not unexpected, as the two men, with the girl, bolted from the cabin, for a moment he did not have a clear shot when the white man fired and the first of the men jerked from the hit. In that instant, the second man froze, the girl pulled away, and both rifles barked, the shots taking the man in the torso.
Storyteller / Shared NPC
The two men thought they were so close now, a safe getaway. They would then outdistance those troopers and get to the border and freedom. The girl was not important, for now she was still a useful hostage. Once they crossed into Canada, they'd kill her, couldn't have a witness. Maybe have a little fun with her first, not that she would think so.
And then it all went very badly, very quickly.
Thurlow never even knew what hit him. The bullet struck him in the temple and made a mess of his brain matter. He dropped like a sack of potatoes without a word or even a cry.
Callison heard the shot that killed his friend but froze, stunned by the suddeness of it all. He did not even have time to drop the saddle bags and try to use that Sharps carbine he carried in the other hand. A second rang out, striking him full in the chest and sending him backwards against the outside wall of the cabin. His eyes wide, his mouth open, he tried to focus but everything was fading fast. By the time he slumped to the ground he was dead, eyes still staring upward sightless now.
The girl had pulled away right after the shot, felt a spatter of something warm and wet on her hair and dress. Falling to her knees, she screamed loudly. She didn't want to die, she just wanted all this to stop.
The second shot came before Cantrell could settle on the second target. He immediately swung his rifle over to point toward the area the shot came from. Cantrell could hear nothing else from the porch but the wailing of the girl. He figured that meant that both men were dead or at least no longer capable of hurting anyone. Cantrell squinted and there it was. Movement in some brush well over to one side. the head raised up slightly as the shooter was looking toward the porch to verify his own kill. It was the scout's Apache companion.
Cantrell lowered the hammer on his rifle as he got to one knee and waved a hand to indicate the Apache should stay where he was. He stood slowly, leaving his hat where it was so the girl could see him fully. He walked towards the porch, his eyes moving across both men to make sure they were in fact, dead. Cantrell knelt beside the girl and put an arm around her.
"Easy...easy...we're with the soldiers. We were chasing those men. It's safe now. They're dead. Did they hurt you?"
Cantrell turned and glanced back at the Indian and gave a nod to tell him it was safe to move.
Ke-Ni-Tay saw the sign that all was well and he could move, he gathered up the reins of his pony, figuring this was something the white man could handle with the girl, so he deftly mounted and turned his horse toward where the soldiers had ridden off too. Knowing that they had been just out of sight of the deserters he moved in that direction at a walk, as he was in no hurry. Of the other Indians, he believed they would have attacked already, if they were going to.
What they had set out to do had been done, perhaps not to the liking of the army, but as was necessary. The white girl would be in the hands of the women at the fort he thought, until other arrangements were made, unlike his people who would have taken in an orphaned child. Sometimes he just did not understand the white people.
Yes, the physical danger was over. Those terrible men were dead. This man seemed to only want to help but the girl was still distraught. She'd been thru a lot this horrible day. She could not stop shaking nor crying.
"Pa! I want to see my Pa and Jimmy!" she looked up tearfully at the man, "They shot them!" The child still had hope.
There were two figures sprawled out in the field, close to each other. There was no mistaking it, even from a look at them from a distance. They were dead. Two more innocent victims of those brutal deserters.
***
On the far side of the ridgeline, Barlow waited impatiently. Minutes seemed like hours. He had felt like this before in his military career, just before having to go into battle. Only now he had nothing in his control. He just had to hope in the rancher.
Then there was a single rifle shot...no, a second rifle shot right after it. And silence, dead silence. He tensed to hear more but nothing. So no gunbattle. Had the ambush worked? His hopes were up.
His veteran German born sergeant asked, "We going back, captain?"
"Goddamn right we are!" Benjamin decided and turned to his troopers, "Alright, troop forward!"
And with that the detachment thundered back on over the ridge and heading straight for the farmhouse. Benjamin was encouraged by no further shooting. He just hoped it was the deserters who were shot not the rancher. Wait, there was the Indian scout approaching them on horseback.
Ke-Na-Tay could see them coming and did not change the pace of his pony. The news he would give would be good. The men they sought were dead, the white girl safe, the white man unharmed—a good day, a day that ended a tragic situation. Even the redmen that had watched seemed to be turning to ride away, and a second possible threat averted.
As he met the patrol he smiled, "Bad men dead, girl is alright, white man good shot, him OK too."
The Apache wasted no time in letting the veteran captain know the outcome of those shots.
He even smiled, "Bad men dead, girl is alright, white man good shot, him OK too."
That news brought a smile to Benjamin then too, "That's good news, dandy news!"
He turned to MacIntosh, "Can you and Ke-Ni-Tay go check out the whereabouts of those Indians? I think they pose us no threat or they'd have tried something before but one never knows. I'd hate for us to rescue the kid and then we get ambushed on the way back to the fort."
And with that, Barlow moved the detachment directly toward the farm. He wanted to congratulate the rancher and see this child for himself. Supposedly the girl was 'alright', question remained just how alright. Hopefully those men had not ......well, he'd rather not think about it.
"Sure can, Cap'n." MacIntosh replied although he was sure there was no current danger, as had there been, the Indians would have had their hair, and a captive white girl long before this. He turned his horse toward his Apache partner.
"'mon Ke-Ni-Tay, let's see where those others are headed, wanna make sure they don't send some men back our way." He tol the Indian as they both started back at a trot.
"Nantan Barllow, he a careful man." Ke-Ni-Tay replied, and typical of the Apache, MacIntosh could not tell how that statement was meant, though he knew Ke-Ni-Tay would do what was required of him.
They crossed the valley where crested the ridge. A dust cloud was visible in the distance, a small one, indicating the Indians were taking their time, there was no sign that any warriors had split off from the main body, so that was good. But they waited for a while, the patrol would gather up the girl and start back for the post, while he and Ke-Ni-Tay would bide their time watching before they to headed for home.
"Pa! I want to see my Pa and Jimmy!" she looked up tearfully at the man, "They shot them!" The child still had hope.
Cantrell kept his arm around the girl and would not let her look out into the field near the house. "They did...and I'm sorry we did not get here in time. Your father and brother are dead. Those bad men killed many people over the last several days..." Cantrell looked down at her. "...They killed a soldier at the fort, one of my own ranch hands...and your father and brother."
Cantrell spared a quick glance at the men sprawled along the porch. "I can promise you they won't hurt anyone ever again." Cantrell heard faint hoof beats approaching. He turned and walked out into the yard while holding the girl's hand as he saw Barlow and his detachment approaching.