Clash of the Titans

We watch as the cavalry rides to meet us. I suspect they must have used a telescope and have seen the standard we carry. They are confused at best, having had the one escapee ride up to them and give his report... one surprise and slaughter with he the only survivor. But now, as we ride to meet them, their commander has surely identified the company flag. Survivors riding in to join in the fight. I can only imagine the scornful look our escapee will have to deal with if he survives the day.

It is only minutes, but they move by like the seasons. I am numb to the pain now, just me and my horse trying to make it through. I give a thought to Mike, who has taken a much worse hit than me. He may still be in danger, like I was in Modoc. Hopefully by tomorrow we will be back on the ship and in good hands.

I ride up to Lou, who looks like he is locked and loaded. I manage to get a nod and a wink, but I can tell he is in the zone. From here on out anyone that looks into those eyes will see the reaper. I long for the days of Walkers and Muerte Verde at Dominicans, of beer and marinated pork from the girls at the store in Nogales, for the cool mist of Nester’s waterfall and a Cuban cigar. These thoughts comfort me as I ride to my death… or theirs.

Lou picks up the pace as they approach. We go from a trot to a gallop and then he pours the coals to it. I can hear Mike call the team on behind me as the wagon lurches ahead, the horses knowing that the charge is on. All eyes on Lou for the draw. When his rifle comes out we all bring out the hardware and the fuses are lit on the first set, and we dance.

I take a quick look back at the boys. In that instant I see a flurry of preparation; Mike moves his rifle to his lap, Ollie rides from the side of the wagon up passed me, Andy has propped rifles into the corners of the wagon within easy reach, Chris swivels the gun a few times to check the movement and then jacks the loading lever back. Both he and Andy get ready with the dynamite. When I turn back I see the full charge of cavalry fill my view. Lou’s rifle is drawn.

It is a complete look of surprise on their faces. They have slowed and slightly scattered, processing the information; the Company Standard, the uniforms and cavalry horses, the rifles aimed and fired in their direction.

We blast through their ranks, killing five or six as we pass. Andy and Chris find the thick of them with the dynamite, Andy lighting and Chris throwing one after another as the wagon clatters through them. The explosions are deafening, peppering us with sand and rock even as we ride away.

With the dynamite spent we slow and turn, the wagon stops and Chris lights off the big gun. We take to the sides of the wagon and fire on the remaining cavalry soldiers… brave men, still firing at us with arms or legs blown off, crawling to the remains of the fallen to retrieve a rifle or a pistol and continue the fight. But we are too much for them, the element of surprise too great an allie to overcome. It is nothing short of a blood bath. I try to tell myself that this isn’t real, that I haven’t murdered these men, or those before them. But the pain that racks my body tells me that this is my reality… for now.

Voices are muffled and I have to look right at mouths to even begin to understand what is being said. Lou is talking. I think he repeats himself five times or so before he shakes his rifle and then the cartridge belt he has over his shoulder. We need to strip them of ammo and continue.

We scatter like birds and grab up as much as we can and throw it on the wagon. Lou recognizes and takes a couple of Spencer rifles, putting one in his scabbard and handing the other to Ollie. Their spares go to the wagon. The whole operation from us riding up to meet them takes all of ten minutes and then we are off. We still have the company flag and uniforms. The trick worked once. I don't want to be wearing this shit when we finally meet up with the Indians.

There is a cloud of sand and dust where the remaining cavalry has engaged the warriors. We are far from them and our horses are spent. Lou senses this and we take a slower approach, knowing that without our mounts we will never see our way home. We come in at the cavalry's flank and we see them wave us in one direction. That is as close as we want to get wearing this shit, but to remove it now would get us killed just a little quicker. We open fire on them with rifles, the wagon riding down the side of them with Chris cranking away. Our uniforms and the flag hit the dirt as we thin them out. It is another slaughter. About ten or so try to retreat by horseback, riding quickly into the desert.

I wonder if any of the Indians have survived the attack, having been outnumbered ten to one. My question is answered as the escaping cavalry is pursued by half as many warriors. Ollie rides off, Spencer at the ready, and picks off a couple as they try to elude their pursuers. Before long he and the warriors ride back to us.

They have lost many warriors, at least half their number. We manage to save a couple, bringing them back to the wagon so our field medic can work on them. What might have been a mortal wound in this time can be treated. I don't even want to think about the timeline and the effects of all of this death and life saving. We may have no boat to come back to, or have an Apache nation that covers our country. At this point it is too late to worry about it. We have a job to do.

Quiet has once again filtered onto the desert. No more gunshots or dynamite blasts. My hearing is starting to come back. Ollie has the bottle of Red Eye out of his saddle bag and we pass it along. Even the warriors take a pull as the bottle passes. After the bottle makes another round, we are feeling some effect and we congratulate each other on the battle in a sort of "charades" kind of communication. It's all good. The message is there... thank you.

With some effort we manage to get the general direction we are heading to meet up with the Chief and Seedling. Looking back from where we came we can make out the entrance to the canyon country and Orlis Keene's keep. Plans are made. Ollie will take an extra horse, courtesy of the U.S. Cavalry, and he will be accompanied by Andy. Lou trades his Spencer over to him, that and an extra cartridge belt. We manage to find some hard tack and jerky in a few saddle bags. Their commander even had two apples, a little bruised, but a rarity in these parts. We send it with the boys and they ride off after confirming the land marks for the trail to the Superstition mountains. Lou tells them he will mark the trail if there is any confusion at all.

When we start up the trail toward the pass and into the Indian's "Spirit Mountains"
it is late in the afternoon. Our stomachs growl and our thirst is growing. We have no water, the bags we had were ruined in battle. The whiskey didn't help our thirst or hunger. The warriors don't seem to worry about it, which makes me think we are going to see water and food before long.

An hour later we meet up with the Chief and the rest of the tribe. They are extremely pleased to see the warriors and our small group. The Chief notices Ollie and Andy's absence. His men assure him that they are safe. I think he can see it in our faces that we are parched and starving.

We are escorted through camp and it is then that we see the deer and rabbits that the braves have killed for the feast. There is a small brook that runs along side the trail behind us. There is wood being stacked for a fire. The only thing I don't see here is Seedling.

When we ask after him, the Chief seems as surprised as we are that he isn't with us. With much effort he tries to assure us that he will be at our final destination.