Dead Indian Wars by Clark Casey

Author:Clark Casey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lyrical Press
Published: 2017-11-27T14:48:28+00:00

Chapter 25

The Double-Cross

Everyone gathered to watch from the Foggy Dew. Sal’s burnt-up and broken-down saloon wasn’t as comfortable, but the angle from the window had a better view than the Rusty Nail. Mabel reluctantly came across the road for the event. Even Luther finally roused from his bed. On account of him being on his back for so many weeks, all the blood had left his toes, and he had to limp around on two dead legs, barely able to stay upright. He sat in a chair by the back wall, trying to keep his eyes open long enough to see the Indians attack the wolves.

“You can’t sleep your whole death away, old chap!” Nigel teased him. “I spent much of my first year in bed. When I finally got up, I could barely dodge a bullet. It’s not the sort of town where you want to let them catch you at half strength.”

All afternoon, there had been a thunder of tom-toms coming from the Indian camp. It was growing louder with each passing hour. They had roasted a couple of pigs, and the smell of it was driving everyone mad with hunger. The mayor assured everyone that after the Indians attacked the wolves, we’d be having steak for dinner.

“Hear that?” Sal said. “The drumming has finally stopped!”

“The dirt worshipers must’ve finished their powwow,” the mayor announced. “The show should be starting any minute now.”

“Good, I can’t wait to see them featherheads get ate up,” a cowboy said.

“Five bucks says the savages make dog stew out of the wolves,” a soldier countered. Money started flying across the bar in a frenzy. There hadn’t been so much action in the Foggy Dew for months. “Just like old times,” Sal said as he scribbled down a list of the wagers.

“For tonight it is.” Mabel smiled and filled Sal’s goblet up with the wine she had brought over. It was from some place called Burgundy, and must’ve cost someone a pretty penny.

About a hundred braves gathered out in the road, with bows and arrows and a few rifles. We all stared out the window, giddy with anticipation to see a battle we didn’t have to fight in. Then a wolf suddenly crashed through the back door. Two more followed right behind it. A high-pitched holler came from the road out front. Then Black Moon appeared at the same broken window that Sal had blown the frame off while shooting his friend. The angry unkillable Indian launched an arrow. It struck Luther in the gut. The sleepy yellow-haired giant toppled out of his chair onto the floor.

“We’ve been double-crossed!” Sal yelled.

The soldier boys weren’t much use in an ambush, particularly in a saloon. Half of them were drunk, and the rest didn’t know where they had left their guns. The carpenters who had built Mabel’s saloon were still in good fighting condition. One pulled a hammer from his work belt and chucked it at a wolf’s snout. A couple of the others were heeled, and they got off some shots till the wolves fell on them.

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