A Legend Called Shatterhand Read online

  ‘And time is running out for us too. Their big advantage is the dynamite. I wonder how much they have left.’

  ‘They have used four lots of the stuff. They were all very large explosions and that means they were made up of clusters. That will have taken many sticks. I know something about the business. I have used it in the course of my work. But still we do not know with any precision how much of their supplies they have used up. Hence we must act on the assumption they still have some.’

  The commissioner, white-faced and shakily holding a gun, emerged from his cabin but they both ignored him.

  ‘What do you think their strategy will be now?’ Stanton asked the frontiersman.

  ‘Of course, they will not advance over the open space. The clear ground between them and us is our one advantage. Even though we have few men we could still pick them off easily and they know it. They will need some kind of cover and I reckon they will use wagons.’

  It was a little later that the cry of ‘White flag!’ came from the ramparts. Shatterhand and Stanton vaulted up to the walkway. As the commissioner joined them they could see two riders slowly approaching with something white fluttering from a stick.

  ‘Pick ’em off when they get within range,’ the commissioner urged.

  ‘Do not be an utter ass,’ Shatterhand grunted. ‘Return to your cabin and hide yourself away again.’

  The commissioner remained unmoved but sniffed at the primitive’s effrontery.

  Stanton used his binoculars. ‘They do not appear to be armed. They’re trailing a third horse. There’s something slung across it.’

  The party stopped just out of rifle range and the man holding the stick waved it in a wide arc.

  ‘We have to parley,’ Stanton said and called his sergeant.

  ‘We will parley,’ Shatterhand said, ‘and I will accompany you.’

  They descended the wooden ladders and mounted up. The gates were heaved open and they headed out. As soon as they began their approach one of the men dismounted, took the shape from the third horse and dumped it on the ground. It was a body. The man returned to his horse to wait and, as the two men from the fort neared, they could recognize Booker and the Dutchman.

  ‘You bastards!’ Stanton grunted as they faced up to the renegades.

  ‘What have you got to say?’ Shatterhand asked, knowing this was not the time and place to voice

  aggression.

  ‘You know what we are after,’ the Dutchman said. ‘The army payroll.’

  ‘And you think we’re going to give it?’ Stanton said. ‘Just like that.’

  ‘You know what we are capable of,’ the Dutchman continued. ‘We’ve already given you one taste. What’s more we figure you lost more men. If it comes to the crunch we can blast you, your tin soldiers and the whole fort to hell.’ He nodded to the body on the ground. ‘And that’s something else we’re capable of. What you might call a token. That’s one of your precious townsfolk. What we have done to him we can do to others in the town. How are the public gonna take it when they know the army put the lives of ordinary folk before one of their precious payrolls? You’re in a situation, captain. But we don’t wanna do any of that unless’n we have to. We’s reasonable men, ain’t we, Ned?’

  His companion chuckled. ‘Yeah, Lou. ’Course we are.’

  ‘So what’s the deal?’ Shatterhand asked, as if he did not know.

  ‘You just hand over the money, there’ll be no harm done to anybody and you’ll never see us again.’

  ‘Yon know we can’t do that,’ Stanton said stiffly.

  The Dutchman ignored the reply. ‘I’m telling you. Every critter will be safe if we’s allowed to take the cash. Now here’s the way we do it. We must be allowed into the fort so that we can search to make sure that all the money is being handed over.’ He laughed. ‘We don’t want you hiding none of it from us!’

  ‘Go on,’ Stanton said impatiently.

  ‘Before we enter the fort there must be a downing of arms by all bluebellies, including other folk, such as your backwoodsman friend here.’

  ‘Can’t be done,’ Stanton snapped. ‘And you know it. This is a military installation. Army regulations don’t provide for any action such as that.’

  ‘Now don’t be hasty, soldier,’ Booker put in. ‘You gotta realize this is your last chance.’

  ‘Yes,’ the Dutchman added. ‘Go back and think about it. It’s your duty to talk it over with the commissioner. He’s an intelligent man and will see the issues involved here.’ He tightened his grip on his reins to make it clear he was preparing to pull away. ‘Like how the hell he’s gonna get reappointed when the public learn he has condoned the slaughter of innocent people?’ He took out a fob watch and glanced at it. ‘I’ll give you till ten o’clock. That means you’ve got forty-five minutes to give us your decision. That’s the deadline.’ He laughed. ‘Deadline, yeah. In both senses of the word!’ He pulled sharply on the reins and the two men wheeled their horses round.

  For a moment Stanton and Shatterhand watched the two riders canter back towards the trees. ‘The commissioner was right,’ the captain hissed. ‘We should have shot the bastards while we had the chance. It would have been two less.’

  Shatterhand gave a gentle indication to his dun to turn. ‘Himmel. This craziness is catching.’

  ‘Of course we have to comply,’ the commissioner said when they were back at the fort and had retailed the terms. ‘Like I have been saying all along — it’s only money:

  Shatterhand grunted. ‘The matter has progressed too far. Don’t you see? The varmints will kill everyone anyway. That’s why they insist on being allowed into the fort rather than the money simply being handed over at the gates. After all, it is already known they have killed soldiers — what could be worse? There will be no extra threat to them from killing everyone in the place!’

  Chapter Sixteen

  A shout came from the ramparts. Shatterhand and Stanton climbed the steps near the caller.

  ‘There’s some activity at the town, sir,’ the sentry said, pointing as they got to the position.

  Stanton raised his binoculars. ‘Huh!’ He could make out a precession of wagons and people on foot moving away from the town and fort. ‘The townsfolk are leaving.’

  ‘Have the Dutchman and his mob of cut-throats seen them?’ Shatterhand said. ‘There is hope if he does not sight them for a spell; at least until they have made some headway. Then he will think twice about chasing after them to use them as hostages. Time is of the essence for him.’

  Stanton swung the binoculars to the trees. ‘Reckon he hasn’t seen them yet. If they can get away, it cuts down our calculations. The problem will be solely one of defending our position here.’

  ‘Yes,’ the frontiersman added. ‘But it is still a problem and we have yet to work something out.’ He breathed deep arid surveyed the terrain: the stand of trees on the slope where the gang were waiting, the open space between them and the fort, the Indian camp, the river. ‘How long have we till the deadline?’

  ‘About twenty minutes.’

  Der Jager sniffed as he pondered then exhaled noisily. ‘I have an idea.’ He shinned down the foot-ladder and collected his weaponry. He slung the Martin-Henry over his back and, picking up the Barentoter, beckoned for Lone Eagle. ‘Come with me,’ he said when his friend was close. ‘Let us speak with the Pend d’Oreilles.’

  The Piegan looked at him, noting something in his eyes. In the short time of their acquaintance the two men had developed some understanding that veered towards a non-verbal communication. As the Indian’s lips moved they imperceptibly registered the satisfaction that came with understanding. ‘Does Shoh-tah-hay have the same thought as Lone Eagle?’ he said.

  ‘I guess so,’ Shatterhand replied in the tongue of the Piegan. They walked to the gate and Shatterhand indicated for it to be opened. Outside, they loped across the sward, keeping their eyes on the stand of trees in case the Dutchman’s mob made their play. On the way t
o the Pend d’Oreille camp Shatterhand explained his ideas.

  On their arrival Shatterhand asked, with Lone Eagle acting as interpreter, how were the camp-members who were down with illness, and learnt the epidemic seemed to be over. Then Lone Eagle asked to see the chief.

  ‘What is it, my brother?’ the old man asked, indicating that they should sit cross-legged after they had been allowed to descend into his tepee and had been ushered into his presence.

  ‘You are aware of the events of the night at the fort?’ Lone Eagle began.

  ‘Even an ancient one such as myself with old ears could not escape the noise of battle. But it is white man against white man. Of no concern to humble redmen.’

  Lone Eagle nodded. ‘That is true.’ He paused and then asked, ‘Have the Pend d’Oreilles heard stories around their camp-fires of the mighty Shoh-tah-hay?’

  ‘Who amongst our peoples have not heard of such a warrior of the past, my brother?’

  Lone Eagle pointed to Shatterhand. ‘That warrior of the past still lives. And he is here. The man you see before you is Shoh-tah-hay.’

  Disbelief roistered on the old chief’s wrinkled face. ‘But Shoh-tah-hay is one of the ancient ones — as am I. Not youthful like this fellow.’

  Shatterhand grunted and pulled at the grizzled wattle hanging beneath his chin. ‘Thank the chief for his compliment but tell him I can assure him I am no spring prairie-chicken!’

  Lone Eagle translated and the chief chuckled before becoming serious again and continuing. ‘The Shoh-tah-hay of legend has many tongues but this fellow does not even speak the tongue of the Pend d’Oreille.’

  Shatterhand put out his right hand and said, in Sioux, that the chief had great wisdom. He extended his left and, in Apache, elaborated on how honored he was to be in the chiefs tepee. In Piegan and with his right hand extended again he explained that he recognized it as a shortcoming bordering on rudeness that he was not able to speak to the mighty chief in the Pend d’Oreille tongue.

  The chief nodded, showing his understanding of what was being said each time and then smiled in admiration at the white man’s proficiency. Then his face took on a testing look once more. ‘But the stories say that Shoh-tah-hay dwelt in a land where the cactus is a tree, the sun hot and the ground dry for many a year. Not in the land of snow and the giant Kodiak.’

  Shatterhand nodded. ‘I lived in the hot lands once. It is a place so far to the south it took my horse nearly all of a summer to carry me from there to here.’

  The chief nodded again, his face as inscrutable as a rock. ‘It is written on the tongues of the storytellers that Shoh-tah-hay and Win-eh-too the Warrior were blood-brothers.’

  Without hesitation Shatterhand pulled up the sleeve of his right arm to reveal a scar on the front of his forearm.

  ‘Of course, that scar could be the permanent reminder of one of many things,’ the old man said. He paused, his rheumy eyes hitting those of Shatterhand head-on. It was that way for some time, before the old man continued. ‘But this ancient man believes you. Not because of evidence that you present to him, but because he sees truth in your eyes.’ He put out his frail arm and grasped that of Shatterhand. ‘This humble one accepts the credentials of Shoh-tah-hay and is in turn honored to have the mighty warrior in his tepee.’

  He settled himself back in the curled-up pose of an ageing man. ‘I have been long enough in this world to guess that there is reason for this visit beyond the passing of time. What is it that Shoh-tah-hay wishes of an old one?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lone Eagle put in, ‘there is something that is requested. On behalf of Shoh-tah-hay I ask for the support of your braves.’

  ‘For what purpose?’

  ‘To enter the field of combat on the side of the blue soldiers against the maverick white men hiding in the trees. They are planning to attack the fort of the soldiers and heavily outnumber them.’

  ‘And in what way are these white men maverick?’

  ‘They have broken many codes in the white man’s law.’

  The chief remained unimpressed.

  ‘And,’ Lone Eagle continued, ‘they have also killed redmen in their journey north.’

  The chief remained impassive. ‘I have also known of blue-jackets killing redmen. This old one fails to see the difference?’

  Lone Eagle looked across at Shatterhand, then back to the chief. ‘Does that mean the Pend d’Oreilles will not give their help?’

  ‘This old one must speak with other elders of the tribe.’ He said something to an aide, who shinned up the ladder out of the tepee. There was silence except for the sound of wind against the sides of the tepee and the chief sat stone-faced until some equally old men began to descend slowly and joined the parley.

  ‘I will respectfully remind the chief of the Pend d’Oreilles and his council that Shoh-tah-hay and the squaw of the white chief helped his people in their time of sickness,’ the Piegan said before any discussion started.

  ‘That is true,’ the chief said and went into deep debate with his council in a Pend d’Oreille dialect so broad it was difficult for Lone Eagle to follow. When they had finished the chief looked pensively at his two visitors for a moment. Then he pronounced solemnly, ‘We have to learn to live with the white man. Whether we like it or not, we know the white man is here to stay in our hunting-grounds. So we have decided to side with those that we know to have some goodness in their hearts.’

  He motioned with his hands for them to rise. ‘I will give instruction to Buffalo-With-Two-Tails, the leader of our warrior braves, that in this matter he is to take instructions from Lone Eagle and Shoh-tah-hay. I trust you will ensure that our squaws and papooses are subjected to the minimum of risk. May success accompany your venture.’ And his hands dismissed them.

  Stanton noticed the commissioner supervising the loading of a buggy. The captain walked over. ‘What’s happening, sir?’

  ‘I’m not part of this,’ the commissioner said, waving his arms to cover the whole environment. ‘We are leaving. There are not enough men to defend this place and yet you still persist in trying to stand-off these renegades. It’s foolhardy verging on the criminal.’

  Mrs. Draper was standing close, looking upset. ‘I’m not going, James. I am staying, even if it’s just to look after the injured men.’

  ‘That is most unseemly behavior for the wife of a commissioner,’ Draper said. ‘Demeaning, that’s what it is. Not to mention your cavorting around the territory on your own. Don’t think I don’t know what that was all about.’ There was a coldness in the look that he gave, colder than a bad Montana winter. ‘Suit yourself, woman.’

  ‘I have made up my mind, James.’

  ‘That’s sensible, ma’am,’ Stanton said. ‘See if you can persuade your husband to do the same.’

  ‘What’s more,’ the commissioner went on, turning to the soldier. ‘I demand an escort.’

  ‘I strongly advise you against this action, sir. Furthermore, I cannot permit you to have an escort. You have remarked yourself how deficient our numbers now are. Not only are all my men needed here your action is foolhardy. With or without an escort you will be stopped and taken hostage by the renegades to further their ends.’

  ‘I think that is improbable, young man,’ the politician said. ‘After all I am a representative of the federal government! Anyway, I am not stopping here to be slaughtered. The situation that has developed here is an army matter. I am a civilian. If needs be I’ll drive myself.’

  ‘I’ve tried to reason with him, Captain,’ Sergeant Barnes said, ‘but his mind is made up.’

  ‘Even minutes are precious and I don’t have time to argue this through,’ Stanton said. ‘So if that is your intention, sir...’ And he walked over to the gate. From their position the participators in the conversation could hear him shout the order to keep the gates firmly closed and particularly not to allow the commissioner to exit. When he returned the loading of the buggy was still continuing. ‘For this, Captain,’ the commissioner s
napped, ‘I will see you stripped of all rank. Mark my words.’

  ‘If you make any attempt to leave I will have you placed under arrest,’ Stanton concluded, before walking away to proceed with more pressing business.

  Shatterhand and Lone Eagle had their council of war with Buffalo-With-Two-Tails. He was an accomplished brave and took the details of their plan with understanding. When the two men got back to the front edifice of the fort, Shatterhand hailed the sentry to open the gate. There was some kind of altercation of which Shatterhand could not perceive the gist, muffled as the words were by the thickness of the wooden gates. After some delay they heard the huge wooden bolts being drawn back and the gates began to swing open. There was further unseen commotion and the gates were pushed wide as a horse and buggy unexpectedly forced its way through. It was the commissioner, riding alone and belting all hell out of his animal. Shatterhand was concerned but had more pressing matters to attend to: the renegades’ deadline was about now.

  The captain went into the sickbay. Mrs. Draper was wiping her hands, bloodied from the wound she had been dressing. He took her to one side and informed her of her husband’s leaving.

  ‘That shows what he thinks of me,’ she said.

  ‘He’s just scared,’ the captain said, ‘that’s all. Like most of us. Some can hide it, some can’t.’

  ‘I’m going to divorce him when all this is over,’ she said. ‘Then you and I can be together.’

  ‘You couldn’t stand the life, Sarah.’

  ‘I could try. At least I’ve been out here and seen it. That’s more than most women who commit themselves to coming out west.’

  He pulled her to him and she rested her head on his chest. At that point heavy boots clumped on the boards outside. They parted as Shatterhand entered.

  He had no time for niceties. ‘We have some help,’ he said brusquely. ‘Not many extra. Maybe six. But help all the same.’ He informed Stanton of the support he had elicited from the Pend d’Oreilles. The two men stepped outside and were immediately notified from the ramparts that the white flag was appearing again. Lone Eagle joined them and the three climbed the steps. From the top they could see the commissioner’s buggy following the line of the Missouri in a northward direction which would take him back to Fort Benton but they paid it no mind. More important, two riders bearing the white flag had emerged and were now well clear of the trees. Stanton took a rifle from a sentry, levered a shell into the breech and nodded to Shatterhand who raised his Barentoter. They fired upwards together by way of answer to the approaching riders, who stopped. They fired again into the air to make their answer clear: you want it, come and get it. Their statement was interpreted correctly as one rider dropped his white signal and the two wheeled round their horses, and although not in range, headed fast for the sanctuary of the trees.