There was a stirring, a preparation in the camp of Gomez, nor could I make out what was taking place there except that they were readying themselves for something. An attack upon me?
Gomez himself was riding to the fort, but he was alone. Out of arrow range he drew up and called out, 'Sackett? We are going after your friends, yonder! When we have destroyed them we will come back for you. Have the woman ready. If you surrender her now, you can go free.'
Which of course was nonsense. He was a vengeful man and would kill me in an instant if he had me prisoner. Or he would do as promised and stake me on an anthill.
'You have lost men,' I said calmly. 'You will lose more if you attack the Pawnees. You will return to Santa Fe with your tail between your legs like a whipped dog.'
'I will have her,' Gomez said. 'I will have the woman.'
He turned his horse then rode off to join his soldiers, and I began to wonder why he had taken the trouble to inform me of his intentions. His men began to form up, and he put himself at the head of them. I wondered at the stupidity of the man. Fine soldier he might be, back in Spain, Flanders, or wherever the fighting had been, but you do not advertise your intentions when going out to fight Indians.
Several times he seemed to glance my way, and then I realized he was trying to lure me out of the fort to help my Indian friends, which could only mean that somebody waited nearby to move in the moment I moved out.
Carefully, my eyes searched the terrain, lingering on every clump of brush, every tree, ev--
There were two of them, two of his Spanish soldiers, and they were lying in wait not fifty yards from the gate. One held a musket in his hands and was obviously waiting for me.
In a land of Indians these men would not last long, for they were but poorly hidden.
I made ready my bow.
Chapter Thirty-five.
The morning was clear and beautiful. The sun was still hidden behind the eastern mountains, but the valley was lovely in the dawning light. A few smokes lifted their slim columns toward the sky, but aside from Gomez and his soldiers, nothing moved.
Far down the valley some low clouds lay, and a few white puffballs of cloud lingered against the blue sky, each catching a rosy radiance from the rising sun. The soldier who thought himself hidden in the brush was eager. He edged forward, musket ready to aim, waiting for me to emerge.
His eyes were upon the gate, yet when I straightened up above the roof parapet the movement caught his attention. His head turned and he saw me, bow bent, arrow drawn back.
For a stark, shocked moment he stared, and I loosed my arrow.
There is no good time in which to die, but he must have seen my figure outlined against the morning sky, with mountains and forest behind me. Who he was I did not know, nor whether he had been born in Spain or in Mexico. No doubt he was a good enough man in his own world, and it was a pity he had to come into mine, and not by his own choice, either.
His last glimpse of this world was of the sky at dawn and my dark figure above the parapet. Could he see the bow? Could he see the arrow in flight?
He came erect suddenly, clutching at the arrow's shaft, his musket falling among the rocks. He tugged, staring at me and perhaps hearing the quick scurry of his companion's feet as he fled. My second arrow missed the companion, and I saw the soldier I had shot fall over the rocks.
Then I went down the ladder and to the gate and opened it. The sun was higher, the valley bathed in light. There seemed to be a stir of movement down near the cave where Itchakomi waited. Shading my eyes, I looked and saw nothing.
Only imagination. Suddenly and from a distance I heard a wild chorus of yells and then musket shots and a scream from a wounded man. The Pawnees had been lying in wait and had attacked before the soldiers were halfway to their village. The sides must have been almost evenly matched as to numbers, but the surprise had been complete.
Coming to a higher bit of ground, I stopped. All was confusion, dust, occasional gunshots, and then silence. The dust fell, and men had died and left their bodies on the sun-blessed hills.
Some horsemen rode away, fleeing the fight. Others scattered on foot, pursued by Pawnees.
Gomez, if he lived, had failed again.
Walking on toward the fight I came upon a scalped Indian, one of those who had come with Gomez. Then I saw two Indians holding a prisoner. It was Diego.
'He is a good man,' I told them. 'Let me have him.'
They merely stared at me.
'This one is a friend,' I assured them, but they continued to stare, clutching his arms.
Asatiki, the old warrior, came toward us, and I explained. 'This one is good,' I said. 'He is my friend.'
'He fought hard against us.'
'Aye, he is a fighter. He did what he was supposed to do, and no doubt did it well, yet he did not wish to come against you and told me so. It was the other one, the one of the gray horse. He was their leader.'
'He got away.'
'I am sorry for that. He is bad medicine. This one is not.'
'He is their prisoner.'
'Are you not their chief?'
'I led the war party. I am their chief. I cannot command, only suggest. Each is his own man. He comes and goes as he wishes. They followed me because they wished, not because I demanded it. He is their prisoner.'
Again I turned to them. 'Will you sell him to me?'
They did not reply, just waited, looking at me. When the attack on the fort had first taken place and the gate had been briefly open a horse had been ridden through, its rider killed. That horse still stood there on the stone- flagged court. 'I will trade a horse for him.'
It was a horse I dearly wanted. A horse could make a difference in many ways.
'Good horse?'
'One of the best.' I had no idea. The horse had looked good at the one glance I had thrown his way. I had had other things on my mind at the time and no time to waste, but what horse trader plays down his stock?
'An excellent horse,' I said, 'very strong, very fast.'
'We see.'
Together we walked back to the fort, Asatiki with us.
'Wait,' I said when we neared the fort. 'I shall bring him out.'
One thing I had seen in that hasty glance was a powder horn on the saddle, and I wanted that. In fact, I wanted the saddle as well. Hastily, I stripped saddle and bridle from the horse and rigged a hasty hackamore with a bit of rope. Then I led the horse outside. The powder horn, by its weight, was almost full.
They looked at the horse and walked around it. I waited. Had they seen it with its equipment they would have demanded all of it, as I would have done.
'The horse,' one said, 'and a musket.'
Taking a firmer grip on the lead rope I turned the horse back toward the gate. 'The horse is a good horse. Too good. It is an even trade, horse for prisoner. If you do not like it, take the prisoner and burn him.' I kept on walking toward the gate and as I started through one of the Indians spoke up. 'We take! Give us horse!'
The other Pawnee threw Diego at my feet and grabbed the lead rope and started away.
'No good,' Asatiki said. 'You get two, three prisoner for horse.'
'Maybe,' I agreed, 'but I do not know the other prisoners. This man is a good man. Sometime,' I advised, 'you have trouble. Speak to this man. If he can, he will help.'
Asatiki shrugged. 'White man forget ver' quick.'
My eyes met his. 'Remember this, Asatiki. I did not forget this man. His people are my enemies. This man is not, and I remembered.'
Lifting Diego to his feet I cut his wrists loose. 'Gracias,' he said, rubbing his wrists to restore circulation.
'Go inside and keep out of sight. They might change their minds.'
He did so, and I walked across to the man I had killed with an arrow. His musket was there among the rocks,
