Saddler tried to persuade Abigail to go off and collect wild flowers or find some other distraction, while he and the Jackson brothers made medicine, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She was polite and subdued, but obstinate as a mule.
‘This is my affair, just as much as it is yours, Mr Saddler,’ she said quietly. ‘Why, if not for me, we might not be sitting here now.’
‘How’s that?’ said Jake Jackson, ‘What’s the story there?’
Saddler gave him a very brief account of the previous night’s adventures. Both the Jacksons smiled broadly to hear of Marshal Devlin’s efforts being set at naught and, to Saddler’s disgust, Tyler turned to Abigail, saying, ‘Smart work, little miss.’
‘It weren’t smart work, at all,’ Saddler said. ‘It was a terrible thing to do and I’ll thank the two of you not to encourage such recklessness. Now you have our reasons for wantin’ to avoid Devlin and you told us yours. How do you say we can travel to Kansas and not be the object of remark by Indians and others? And why’d you need our horses?’
‘Like as not, you know that Wells Fargo are in trouble? Can’t compete with all the new railroads.’
‘I heard,’ said Saddler.
‘Well, most o’ them routes they got running east to west, they’re giving up. They starting to run to and from places the railroads don’t cover. Chiefly, those going from north to south.’
‘Tyler, if you want to give geography lessons, then you might get a schoolhouse to engage you for the job. Get to the point,’ said Saddler.
‘Just a month ago Wells Fargo started running coaches from Texas to Kansas. They take through the Choctaw and Seminole nations and avoid Arkansas. Means no road tolls and cutting some hundreds of miles off the journey. They using some nice Concorde coaches. Beautiful things, with painted pictures on the doors and I don’t know what all else.’
‘Well,’ said Saddler patiently, ‘where does this tie in with us?’
‘Me and Jake here, we got one o’ their stages. Got it tucked away in a cave, not three miles from this very spot.’
‘What?’ cried Saddler. ‘You mad fools have stolen a stagecoach?’
Neither of the brothers appeared to find anything odd about the situation. They didn’t go into overmuch detail, but, from all that Saddler could collect, they had held up the stage and then for some reason taken into their heads, after having robbed the passengers, to hang on to the vehicle in which those passengers had been travelling. They had left the driver and his mate stranded in the middle of the Choctaw nation, along with those who had been travelling in the stage. Then they had driven it to one of their hideouts, backed it into the cave and covered the entrance with a load of brushwood.
After hearing this story, Saddler exclaimed, ‘That is the damnedest thing I ever heard. You boys are something else again.’
‘So,’ said Tyler Jackson, ‘here’s how I read it. Devlin will have put out the word that he is looking for two young men with fresh faces and black, curly hair. Handsome fellows, as might turn a young lady’s eye.’ He winked at Abigail, who giggled.
He continued, ‘From what you say, he will also be sending out for anybody to tell him of a man travelling alone with a little girl. Which is not what I would call a common sight in this part of the world.’
‘You’re thinking,’ said Saddler thoughtfully, ‘If we were in a stage, then Abigail here could ride inside and you boys could take it in turns to be up on the driving seat. Nobody would be thinking twice to see a Wells Fargo coach passing through?’
‘You got it,’ said Jake. ‘What d’you say?’
Abigail broke in at this point, saying, ‘Oh please let’s, Mr Saddler. I’m getting awful tired of riding.’
‘It might work,’ said Saddler slowly. ‘It just might. You two told me everything? No nasty surprises waiting?’
The whole idea sounded to Saddler as though it hadmuch to recommend it. Abigail was still not a very fast rider and he had been wondering how long it would take them to get through to Kansas at the speed at which they had been travelling so far. And, as the Jacksons had pointed out, there was now the added complication of having that bastard of a marshal on their tail.
After the fire last night, and his escape, Saddler couldn’t imagine for a moment that Thaddeus Devlin would simply mark the matter down to experience and forget all about him. He would speak to people today who would have remembered him and Abigail together, and he didn’t need the Jacksons to tell him that a white man and a little girl made a rare and noticeable combination in the Choctaw nation.
‘All right,’ said Saddler, after turning it over in his mind for a spell, ‘I’ll buy it. I suppose that you need four horses for this coach? What became of those as was already harnessed up to it?’
‘Sold ’em, of course,’ said Tyler promptly. ‘What d’you think we done with ’em?’
‘Lord knows, with you two. Listen, the pair of you come over here with me. Abigail, you stay there a second.’
When he had led the brothers out of earshot of the curious child, Saddler said, ‘One thing I’d have you two recall and that is that the girl is no more than a child. I don’t want a heap of cursing and strong language or lewdness nor nothing else tending that way. Is that understood?’
Both the Jacksons laughed at this, Jake remarking to his brother, ‘Shit, he thinks we don’t know how to behave like decent folk.’
‘I mean it,’ said Saddler and the two of them nodded.
Both Saddler and the two brothers were pretty eager to be making tracks from that part of the territories. All three of them had it at the back of their minds that at any moment Thaddeus Devlin would pop out from behind a tree and take them into custody. He might be getting on a little in years, but Marshal Devlin was a regular Tartar with wrongdoers, especially those who had wronged him personally.
Anxious about delays, Saddler asked if either of the brothers had the correct time and was surprised when Tyler pulled out an enormous gold hunter.
‘Nice watch,’ Saddler said. ‘You inherit it or what?’
‘Why, the fact is that this here belonged to that Devlin.’ ‘You even took his watch? No wonder he is vexed with you.’
Jake cut in at this point, saying, ‘Had he not been so damned rude, we would o’ just took his money.’
‘Let me see that watch,’ said Saddler. ‘It looks like something a man would set store by.’
The watch was so heavy that Saddler could tell at once that it wasn’t pinchbeck. He opened the back and saw an inscription. Peering closely, he read, To my dear son Thaddeus, from his proud father 4.7.41. ‘You fool,’ Saddler said. ‘You read this here?’
‘No,’ Tyler said. ‘Me and my brother aren’t great shakes at reading and ciphering and suchlike. What’s it say?’
‘His father gave him this watch when he was about twenty or something. No wonder he’s mad as hell at the two of you. What ails you boys, that you always have to go that bit too far?’
It took less than a half hour to get to the cave off the road where the Jacksons had stowed the stolen stagecoach. It was a real beauty, with bright red coachwork. The doors, as the Jacksons had said, each bore an attractive painting of some pastoral scene. Prominently displayed above each door was the name of Wells Fargo.
‘It’s lovely,’ cried Abigail as soon as she set eyes on it. ‘So fresh and new. I never rode in a stage before. Oh, this is going to be such an adventure.’
Tyler and Jake Jackson were pleased at the child’s reaction and began pointing out to Abigail various features of the stage that she might have overlooked, when Saddler cut in and reminded them that time was pressing.
‘We don’t any of us want Marshal Devlin riding down on us at the head of a posse, I wouldn’t o’ thought? Happen we can talk once we’re on our way.’
It took the full strength of all three men to push the vehicle out of the cave and get it nigh to the road. Hitching up the horses was the devil of a job; not least because Abigail’s pony did not fit well in harness with the other three full-size horses belonging to the men.
‘Can I ride up there with the driver?’ asked Abigail, excited at the whole notion of a trip in a stagecoach.
‘Abigail,’ Saddler told her seriously, ‘you are the most noticeable member of the whole, entire party. It is bad enough having Tweedledum and Tweedledee here, but we can split them up so that only one at a time can be seen. You would be spotted at once.’
‘She’s wearing pants,’ Tyler said. ‘Maybe if she tucks her hair out of the way, people won’t have her pegged for a girl.’
‘I’ll thank you to tend to your own affairs,’ Saddler told him sharply. ‘This child’s welfare is my business.’
After much debate it was agreed that having both Jackson brothers in view at the same time would be undesirable. Devlin might very well be asking if anybody had seen two similar-looking young men with those distinctive blue eyes and black, curly hair. They were to take it in turns to ride in the coach, while one was up in the driver’s seat with Saddler. Abigail was to remain in the coach at all times. The girl was mightily displeased at this, but Saddler was immovable, and with an exceedingly bad grace Abigail agreed.
Before they set off Saddler asked the brothers, ‘Have either of you any idea how often the genuine stages travel along this here road?’
Tyler and Jake shrugged; they neither of tham had given the question any thought.
Saddler continued: ‘What are we to do if we encounter a real Wells Fargo coach? Do we just ignore them, or what?’
This too had not occurred to the boys.
‘Strikes me,’ said Saddler, ‘as you two haven’t thought this thing through too closely.’
Fortunately for all concerned Saddler had some slight experience of driving a stage. He wasn’t real good at it, but at least he knew the basics. Tyler and Jake were both raring to have a turn, but Saddler was more interested in getting as far from Fort Renown as was possible and so suggested that it would be wise if, that day, he alone took the reins.
Actually, Saddler enjoyed driving the stage. It demanded a good deal of work, ensuring that the four horses did as they were directed, but it made a change from riding. The Jackson brothers were both amiable fellows and he found it amusing to listen to their wild stories about the exploits in which they had recently been engaged. If you took the two of them on their own terms and did not expect too much in the way of normal, human morality, then Tyler and Jake were agreeable enough company. Saddler didn’t trust either of them, but as things were going, it seemed to him that he and the child were better off travelling in this way.
The trouble at Fort Renown, being arrested and so on, had frightened him. Not because of what might have become of him, but on account of that little girl damn near got stuck alone in the Indian territories, with nobody to care for her. For all their shortcomings and mad ways, Saddler had a suspicion that if some harm befell him, the Jacksons might take care of Abigail and see that she was taken to safety. For that reason alone, it had been a smart move to team up with them.
The morning wore away pleasantly and they were making good time. The road along which they went was a little wider than most of the tracks through the territories, and presumably Wells Fargo felt that it was good enough for their coaches. It was a bumpy ride inside, from what his passengers reported, but that was only to be expected. Saddler was beginning to be pretty optimistic about his prospects of reaching Kansas with the child within another three days; four at the outside.
‘What we goin’ to do for food?’ asked Tyler, who was sitting next to him.
‘I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to buy some or maybe shoot us some game.’
‘Buy?’ said Tyler in amazement. ‘What for? We can just hit some place when we come by it. Take what we need.’
‘Are you and that brother of yours completely loco?’ asked Saddler, in a sympathetic tone, like he might have been enquiring after somebody’s cold or fever. ‘You think we can roll up in a Wells Fargo stage, rob somebody and then just leave and nobody will later remember us or remark to others on what a singular occurrence has befallen them that day? How many robbers ride round these parts in their very own Concorde coach? For God’s sake, think what you’re about, Jackson.’
‘Me and Jake ain’t got a mort o’ cash money to buy goods with. Stealin’s easier.’
‘I have enough to get us some vittles. I reckon I owe you and Jake for this, anywise. It will be my payment for the journey.’
‘Why, that’s right nice of you, Saddler,’ said Tyler. ‘We’ll just have to keep our eyes skinned for some farm or drinking den or whatever.’
As they travelled, Saddler could everywhere see the evidence of white men encroaching upon what was supposed in theory to be Indian land for all time. There were odd homesteads, surrounded by little patchworks of cultivated fields and then, here and there, larger stretches of farmed countryside. Little by little, the ‘Indian’ territories were being transformed into just another bit of the frontier; gradually being turned into a civilized, white district. Saddler thought to himself that if he was one of the Indians living here, then he too might be getting a little ticked off to see his land being stolen in this flagrant way and nobody from the government caring to do a damned thing about it.
By the time they came across the trading post, all four of them were feeling pretty hungry. In appearance, the place was just like Abbot’s; a large, stone built house with a store at the front and little bar at the back. They pulled up outside and Saddler jumped down. Jake and Abigail opened the doors and climbed down. Oddly, nobody was about and there seemed to be no sign of life.
Saddler said, ‘Abigail, you stay here with these boys. I’m going to look inside.’
There was nobody in the store and Saddler’s shouts brought nobody out. He went round the back and found the owner. He was a stout man in early middle age. To Saddler’s practised eye it looked like he had died hard. The man was spread-eagled against the back door of his home, fixed in place by three bayonets and so covered in arrows that he looked like a damned porcupine. There was nothing about the arrows to indicate which tribe had killed him.
‘Tyler, you come with me. Jake, take a care of Abigail there, please.’
Saddler led Tyler Jackson round the back of the building and showed him what he had found. It was not the sort of thing as was likely to evoke any normal, human feelings in either of the Jacksons, and all that Tyler said was, ‘I guess this means we won’t have to pay for what we take?’
Saddler had an abhorrence at the idea of looting the dead, founded in his army days, where stealing from a dead man was viewed as the lowest kind of crime. Still and all, their need was desperate and so he and Tyler loaded up the stage with as many provisions as they were able. All the time Saddler was scanning the horizon, expecting a war party to heave into view at any second. The murder of the man out the back had confirmed what he had been suspecting for a while now, which was that the murder of Abigail’s parents, the destruction of the Indian Bureau and various other little incidents were not disconnected and random events. The territories were boiling over with indignation at the behaviour of the white men, and what was now happening was, as near as damn it, a general uprising involving at least three and probably four tribes.
Abigail didn’t ask what had been found at back of the trading post and Saddler supposed that this was because she had already guessed.They decided to drive on and then stop a way down the road to eat.
They drove on for a half-hour and then halted near a little stream. They had brought a sack of feed for the horses and Saddler saw to them before they themselves ate. Saddler and Abigail were sober and thoughtful during the meal, both thinking of the circumstances in which they had met. The Jackson brothers, though, either did not fully apprehend the danger or, more likely, did not care about it. It would take more than the sight of a crucified man to dampen their zest for life.
Tyler said, after they had been eating for a while, ‘You want we should carry on the same trail, Saddler?’
‘I don’t see as we’ve another choice. This here will get us out o’ the territories soonest.’
‘You want we should prepare for trouble?’
Saddler did not really want to talk this over in front of the child, but Abigail didn’t show any signs of being distressed, so he said,
‘I don’t have a pistol. That Devlin took it from me. I got my rifle up with me. Happen it’d be a wise move if whichever o’ you boys was riding inside were to have his own rifle ready. Other than that, I don’t see there’s much to be done.’
‘You got powder and shot for your gun?’
‘Got no powder,’ said Saddler. ‘You want some?’ asked Jake.
‘Sure. Thanks.’
It came as no surprise to any of the three men, and probably not the child either, when shortly after starting out again they found themselves the object of unfavourable attention from a group of a dozen riders. Saddler was concentrating on controlling the horses and in particular balancing Abigail’s pony against the three larger beasts, and so it was Jake Jackson, sitting next to him, who first saw the warriors riding along parallel to them.
‘We got company,’ Jake said, ‘Over yonder to your right.’
‘Ah, shit. I just knew that this was goin’ to happen.’ Saddler reached back and rapped sharply on the roof of the coach, causing Tyler to stick his head out of the window and ask what the problem was.
‘Over to the right, there,’ said Saddler.
‘Them boys?’ asked Tyler. ‘Why, I seed them long time back. I’m a-ready when they are. What about you and my brother up there? You want to stop and parley?’
‘The hell I do!’ exclaimed Saddler. ‘We’ll have to make a run for it.’
He wished that he could have been in the coach, ready to reassure and comfort Abigail, and for a moment, Saddler thought about changing places with Jake and letting him take the reins. But both the Jackson boys were mad as coots and prone to taking the craziest chances. Jake would overturn the coach for sure and then they would all be done for.
Saddler reached down and brought his rifle up on to his lap. He cocked it and then whipped on the horses, wondering if they would be able to outride the men moving in on them. From the look of it, he gauged that they would be intercepting the stage in another five or ten minutes.
In the normal way of things, Saddler was a great one for waiting until others had made the first aggressive move, before responding. That way, there could be no doubt that he was acting in self-defence, which, if nothing else, was a sop for his conscience. He also had a deep-rooted horror of behaving like an assassin and striking when the other party was unawares. In the present case, though, none of these considerations seemed to him to apply. So he said to Jake, ‘What say? We wait ’til they get closer or fire on them now and hope to scare ’em off?’
Jake’s experience in such matters was extensive and he had no nerves at all to speak of.
‘We don’t fire yet,’ he said, ‘not by my reckoning. You’d not hit ’em at this range and it would be a waste of powder. ’Less you’re hoping to scare them away? You think those boys are playing?’
‘Happen you’re right,’ said Saddler. ‘I guess we’ll let them make their play first.’ Saddler counted the riders. There were eleven of them and as they gradually moved in closer to the stage, he could see that they were all of them thickly daubed with paint. At this distance, he couldn’t say for sure to what tribe they belonged, but he had an idea they were Chickasaws. This boded ill. It had been a bad sign when the Chickasaws had worked with the Chiricahuas to burn down the Indian Bureau offices, and if now a war party of Chickasaws were riding openly through Choctaw territory, it meant that the whole of the territories was now hazardous. The Choctaw had been as peaceable as you like for years now, but seemingly they too had had enough and were prepared to come to terms with rival tribes, so that they could all work together with a view to driving white men from their lands.
The stage was going at a fair lick, but Saddler was holding some speed in hand for when they needed it. He hoped to give out to the men riding down on them that they were going at full pelt. It was only a tiny element of surprise, but then they needed whatever edge they could find right now. The horsemen were now less than a hundred yards from the coach, and still moving in at an angle.
Saddler heard an echoing thud, which put him greatly in mind of the noise that a woodpecker makes when it is hammering at a tree to catch a grub. He glanced round and saw the arrow which had embedded itself in the door, right in the middle of the pleasant rustic scene. He banged urgently on the roof. ‘Tyler, start shooting!’ he cried.