The remaining Indians crossed the river, then started up the sandy point.
“Fire!” Smoke shouted.
Smoke, Sally, Billy, Mike, Hank, LeRoy, and Jules fired as one. Four of the Indians went down, not because a couple of them had missed, but because a couple of them had fired at the same target. The devastating volley was effective, for the warriors who survived swerved to the right and left, riding by, rather than over, the cowboys’ positions.
The Indians regrouped on the east bank of the river.
“Turn around!” Smoke yelled. “They’ll be coming from behind us this time!”
The cowboys had just barely managed to switch positions when the Indians turned and rode back in a second charge. They were met with another volley, this one as crushing as the first had been. Again, a significant number of the Indians in the middle of the charge went down.
The Cheyenne pulled back to the west bank of the river to regroup, watched anxiously by the men on the island. By now the river was strewn with dead Indians. There were at least eight or ten of them, lying facedown in the shallow water as the current parted around them.
“Anyone hit?” Smoke called.
“Yeah, I been hit,” LeRoy called back, his voice strained. “How bad is it?” Smoke asked.
“I—I reckon it’s killed me,” LeRoy said, his voice growing weaker.
“LeRoy!” Hank called, moving quickly to his brother’s side.
“Hang on, LeRoy,” Smoke said. “We’re going to get out of here. We’ll be having drinks in a saloon in a few days, telling tall tales about this fight.”
“You fellas have a drink to me,” LeRoy said.
“LeRoy! LeRoy!” Hank called anxiously.
“How is he?” Smoke called.
“He’s dead,” Hank said in a tone that reflected both his shock and his sorrow. “I can’t believe this. My brother is dead.”
“I’m sorry, Hank. He was a good man.” Smoke looked at all who had gathered around him. “You are all good men,” he said.
“Smoke, what about Pearlie and Andy?” Cal asked. “You think they are all right?”
“Good question. I’d better go get them.”
“Why don’t you just call ’em in?” Billy asked.
“No, I can’t do that. If the Indians hear us, that will make Pearlie and Andy easy targets. I’ll go get them. Cal, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”
“Right,” Cal replied.
Smoke worked his way down through the tall grass until he reached the point. Looking up, he saw both Pearlie and Andy behind tall clumps of grass, just on the other side of an open sandbar.
“Pearlie, you and Andy all right?” Smoke called to them, just loudly enough to be heard.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Pearlie replied.
“Come on back with the rest of us now,” Smoke said. “We’ve lost whatever advantage we had by having you out here.”
“All right,” Pearlie said. “Andy, you go first, I’ll cover you.”
Nodding, Andy bent over at the waist and darted across the open bar of sand until he reached the tall grass.
“All right, Pearlie, it’s your turn,” Andy called back.
Duplicating Andy, Pearlie darted across the sandbar, then dived into the grass alongside Smoke and Andy.
“Anyone hit back there?” Pearlie asked.
“Yeah. LeRoy was killed,” Smoke said grimly.
“Damn.”
“Come on, let’s get back.”
The three men wriggled through the grass on their bellies until the reached a slight depression that allowed them to stand up. Once up, they were able to move quickly until they were back with the others.
“You think they’re going to come back?” Mike asked.
Smoke shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “I wish I could see them well enough to know what is going on.”
“I have a pair of army binoculars,” Andy offered. “Would that help?”
“It might,” Smoke said. “Let me see them.”
Andy hurried back to where the horses were tied. He fished the binoculars from his saddlebag, then took them back and handed them to Smoke.
“These are good-looking glasses,” Smoke said.
