Benjamin turned away from the now prone Mercier who was nursing a pained jaw and looked up at his veteran scout who was speaking.
"Now I ain't no businessman neither Cap'n. Not hardly. I reckon we best find out where he was planning to meet up with the Injuns, they'll be plenty sore when he don't show."
"Yeah, they no doubt will. But even if we find the Indians, what can we do about it? Seems to me that's more Mercier's problem now than ours," the captain was thinking of his options even as he replied.
"Was we to locate an ant hill, I figure Ki Na Tay here could find out right pronto anything you'd like to know, well 'less Mercer here jest comes clean on his own."
"I don't know....he might not truly know the exact camp site, tribes move around a lot as you full well know," Benjamin remarked. He was half tempted to just send Mercier out with MacIntosh and the Apache and drop some very obvious hints he didn't want the fellow back alive. But he wasn't ready to go that far........yet.
Just then one of the troopers shouted out to all who could hear.
" INJUNS! ON THE SKYLINE!" the man was pointing too.
It was the very direction that Mercier's two men had been heading before the scouts rounded them up and brought them back. Sure enough, while details were hard to make out, there were definitely mounted figures against the horizon on that slope crest. Looked to be at least a good dozen, maybe more. And that was only the ones that could be seen. Benjamin knew that you had to be just as worried about the ones who might well be out of sight.
"Well, I believe those are Mercier's customers, Mr. MacIntosh," Benjamin calmly declared.
They were still well out of range so the officer had time yet to come to his choice of tactical options. Retreat or stand. Whatever, he was not going to show worry, that would be noticed by the troopers.
Crabbe strained his eyes. What the f___ was Barlow doing?! Christ, he’d belted Mercier in the face! Lorenzo didn’t know whether to enjoy the moment or be worried that the intense Captain might kill the lowdown bastard before he got the chance to himself. He had brought the Captain and his column to this place, so he would be technically responsible for Mercier’s death in that case but … well, it just wasn’t the same was it? He wanted to pull the trigger himself, look the bastard in the eyes, get to tell him…
"INJUNS! ON THE SKYLINE!" the man was pointing too.
What the Hell?!! The trooper was shouting with a certainty he could not ignore. Hell, and here he was in the company of soldiers and a bunch of gun runners: and not a weapon to his name! His e
"Well, I believe those are Mercier's customers, Mr. MacIntosh," Benjamin calmly declared.
“You ain’t far from wrong on that ‘un, Captain!” MacIntosh stated. This did not look good.
They were still well out of range so the officer had time yet to come to his choice of tactical options. Retreat or stand. Whatever, he was not going to show worry, that would be noticed by the troopers.
“Was it me I’d fire them wagons an’ light out. They got horses tied on them wagons, so they can run for it as well. Reckon them Injuns’ll be in a scalpin’ mood. Amma’nition in their hands is as bad as new carbines!” Was MacIntosh’s advice. "Them coal oil lamps on them wagons an' a match'll do jest fine!"
As Benamin thought out his tactical options, the veteran scout spoke up.
“Was it me I’d fire them wagons an’ light out. They got horses tied on them wagons, so they can run for it as well. Reckon them Injuns’ll be in a scalpin’ mood. Amma’nition in their hands is as bad as new carbines! Them coal oil lamps on them wagons an' a match'll do jest fine!"
Benjamin nodded immediately, "That actually is excellent advice, Mr. MacIntosh! We will do that."
He turned to his men and barked out orders to douse the wagons with the contents of the lamps and even a few of the yet unemptied barrels of the liquor then set them on fire. Also cut loose the horses. Mercier once more reacted with horror.
"You can't do that!" but no sooner had he said it, he gave up the protest. Mercier knew he was a helpless spectator now.
"Now, Mr. Mercier, you and your men can mount up and ride off to join your customers. Maybe explain nicely to them you don't have a damn thing for them anymore. Sure they'll be understanding. Or you ride with us, I don't care which," Barlow informed the man.
Next the officer turned back to MacIntosh and his Apache.
"Alright, we are going to fall back but I damn well know we can't outrun the hostiles. So I want to fall back to the first defensible position I can find. That's where you come in, head back the way we came. Make sure there aren't more of them behind us already. And when you find a reasonable rise or big enough dry bed to take our horses, wait. We will be coming behind you and that's where I will organize my defense.."
Crabbe watched this bizarre pantomime of the troopers pouring oil on the traders' wagons with as much mystification as if they'd been pouring the flammable stuff on their own heads! "What the Hell are they doin'?" he asked out loud to the troopers he was with in the section who were looking on, idly waiting to be deployed.
As the flames caught, the gun-less, ammunition-less Lorenzo felt a pang, he needed something to kill Mercier with and, almost as an afterthought, defend himself with. He hadn't come this far to be denied. He tore his eyes away from the cavalrymen and their arsonistic antics and scanned the horizon again to see what the gathering Indians were up to.
"Right!" MacIntosh wheeled his horse and the pair raced off. there was a place back a ways, just at a curve where a cave in of the embankment would proved some cover and had looked to be a defensible position.
There were there in minutes, and relieved that the Indians had not left a few braves behind the gun runners to prevent their escape, should it come to that. As MacIntosh rode into plain sight and waved his rifle over his head, Ke Ni Tay scrambled up the embankment to offer cover fire for the soldiers retreating.
As the scouts rode off on their search for the right terrain, Benjamin now organized his withdrawal, he didn't like the word 'retreat'. But if done right, it wouldn't degenerate into that really dangerous word 'rout'. If his troopers dissolved into every man for himself skedaddle the Indians would run down and kill everyone of them. But as long as they kept their discipline and he didn't make any stupid mistakes, he was confident he could hold off the hostiles.
"Mount up! Mount up!" he started shouting to his men who scrambled for their horses. Mercier and his lot could do what they wished now, he no longer cared.
Forming up into a column of fours, the cavalrymen wheeled then headed away from the wagons now beginning to burn and directly in the opposite direction where the Indians watched them. Barlow estimated them to be perhaps a hundred or so. Of course there was always the distinct possibility they weren't revealing all of their strength.
"Sergeant, take the rear of the column, see to no stragglers!" Benjamin now mounted his own experienced horse.
As the cavalry rode away the rounds in their cartridge boxes inside one of the wagons began to cook off from the flames. No, the Indians weren't getting anything useful out of this little expedition at least, Benjamin noted with satisfaction. After a few hundred yards, he pulled on his reins to turn his mount about to check on the hostiles. Sure enough they were on the move now, just not following but spreading out in a ragged crescent, intent on flanking the white men and no doubt, eventually surrounding them. Nothing he did not already expect. Now he just had to hope his scouts would find suitable ground. He also noted two of Mercier's men had broken away and were actually heading straight for the Indians. One of them he had noticed earlier was pretty much more Indian than white, a halfbreed at best. Maybe he was of the very tribe that now pursued them. He guessed them for Arapaho, maybe Cheyenne. Whatever, they were off reservation and according to the government policy now in effect, that made them automatically hostiles.
He rejoined his men and they thundered on a steady pace but not a full gallop until there was the Apache on a rise, waiting.
Cresting that slope, he now spotted MacIntosh waving his rifle . Yes, that place would do just fine. He hurried now to again get to the head of the column of troopers.
"Down there. Head there!" he gestured and shouted at the top of his lungs then led them toward MacIntosh.
In a scant few minutes, the detachment had dismounted, every fourth man holding horses while the other three formed a skirmish line behind the cover of the collapsed bank, almost a ditch really.
"Corporal, unfurl the colors, and plant it in the ground by me. Bugler, stay close in case I need you. Sergeant, take the left!" he let a man lead his mount to join the rest of the horse line as he was going to stand with his men, supervising the skirmish line. No rifle for him, officers had more important things to do, though he did unsnap his military holster just in case he needed to draw his Colt Army revolver. Just then he thought of something as he noticed Mercier and two of his men also dismounting. He looked about and spotted Crabbe.
Now looking for MacIntosh, he was just yards off, he called out, "Good choice of ground, Mr. MacIntosh! Can you see to it that our guest, Mr. Crabbe, is provided with something to shoot with just in case. Oh, and no shooting unless I give the order. The Indians are going to have to start this ball."
Now looking for MacIntosh, he was just yards off, he called out, "Good choice of ground, Mr. MacIntosh! Can you see to it that our guest, Mr. Crabbe, is provided with something to shoot with just in case. Oh, and no shooting unless I give the order. The Indians are going to have to start this ball."
“I can!” He called back, not happy to have to give Crabbe his revolver, But if it came to the need if the pistol he would be in dire straights anyway, and the Indians would have overrun them.
“Crabbe, here!” He called to the man, “It’s loaded so be careful.” He tossed the Army Colt to him. There was something about the man he disliked, but then, there were not a whole lot of men not in uniform that he did like.
“They come straight on, not send others around yet!” Ke Ni Tay stated.. The key word being ‘yet.’ Because the chances were that the Indianans would try to flank the troopers. The best way would be to get some up high, where MacIntosh and the Apache were, and, they there were enough warriors, send some around. The Troopers would surely be able to halt the first attack.
“Crabbe, here!” He called to the man, “It’s loaded so be careful.” He tossed the Army Colt to him. There was something about the man he disliked, but then, there were not a whole lot of men not in uniform that he did like.
“Thanks Mac’” Lorenzo smiled disingenuously. “I’ll try and make myself useful with it.”
When Lorenzo had caught the revolver that the scout threw at him, he’d thought it rum to warn him to be careful! He checked over the weapon, opening up the loading gate to check it was actually going to be of any use to him: as expected MacIntosh had a ‘cowboy load’ of five out of the six chambers to ensure he didn’t accidentally shot himself in the foot. Maybe throwing the weapon to him hadn’t been as dangerous as it seemed.
Hmm, five shots, enough to wipe Mercier off the face of the Earth. He kept the weapon’s hammer over the empty chamber and shoved it in his belt for now, keeping both hands on Greedy’s reins to keep him close to the troopers in this part of the column – they could absorb any Indian bullets that ripped their way.
“They come straight on, not send others around yet!” Ke Ni Tay stated.. The key word being ‘yet.’ Because the chances were that the Indians would try to flank the troopers. The best way would be to get some up high, where MacIntosh and the Apache were, and, they there were enough warriors, send some around. The Troopers would surely be able to halt the first attack.
Crabbe heard the Apache’s sharp eyed report, but it was the leader of the arms traders that he was keeping his eyes on through those thick pebble glasses.
Benjamin liked the ground picked by MacIntosh for two reasons - first off, it gave some shelter for the horses and cover for the dismounted troopers now forming a skirmish line. Secondly, it had a wide swath of open ground about it which meant the cavalry Sharps carbines could open up long range. These guns were single shot but they outranged the faster firing magazine rifles like Henrys and Winchesters. Though he hoped the oncoming Indians didn't have very many of those repeaters, one of the reasons they sought to buy from bastards like Mercier.
"I'd stay close, Mr. MacIntosh. You go up high and you could get surrounded and we couldn't help you. I am betting we can stop the red men cold from this position," he addressed his veteran scout, who had done excellent service so far. But the scouts weren't hired to carry the fight to the enemy, just find 'em. Now it would be up to the Army to do their job - should it come to that.
Sure enough the Indians were not only approaching from what was now the detachment's front but some riders were heading around on both flanks. Indians did not fight like white men, they did not have officers, even war chiefs were only obeyed if a particular warrior felt he like it. They were a mob but a dangerous one. They had another major Achilles heel too - they did not like to take casualties. And who could blame them? Their tribes were tiny compared to the steady tide of whites pouring into the territory. They could ill afford many losses, especially fatalities given the warriors could not be replaced short of some boy growing up to manhood. Even then some of the Indians now riding at them were no doubt in their early teens even. And if they did press the attack, Barlow meant to make them pay for it with losses.
He stood there watching the impressive sight of some sixty seventy braves riding toward them, decked out in feathers and riding a mix of many colored horses, fine ponies. Many of the braves were stripped down to breechclouts , some even had taken time to paint their bodies to make them look even more fearsome. And there was no doubt, they were brave men fighting for their people and their very existence. Much as Benjamin admired them it didn't change anything. He was here to fight the hostiles, his job was about violence and killing. He would do his job.
Benjamin had hoped the Indians would start shooting first, let them start the affair but they were continuing to close, shouting out their wild war whoops. He could not afford to let them get too close though, it would ruin his advantage of longer range. He had to decide now.
"Commence fire! Commence fire! Fire at will !" he suddenly shouted as loud as he could.
The entire front of the skirmish line, some thirty troopers strong , exploded in a roar and sending up clouds of smoke. Then as fast as the troopers could individually break open their carbine breeches, extracting the spent shell, then shoving a fresh one in and levering it shut again, the next shots were much more sporadic than that impressive opening volley.
The Indians reacted to the firepower by veering off, one warrior had toppled from his mount, and two ponies crashed to the prairie ground struck by rounds, throwing their riders. Some of the Indians now returned the firing from horseback but it was hardly aimed fire and it was out of their prime range too.
More warriors began flanking. A man would have to be courting death to continue to charge into the teeth of that fire.
Exactly as Barlow had figured. But it was early and he well knew the fight was far from over.