D
espite the rough terrain, as a precaution against possible Indian attack, McQuade had the wagons traveling three abreast. Dead leaves concealed many obstacles, and the left rear wheel of Ab Henderson's wagon slid into a deep hole. The sudden shifting of the load to one side snapped the axle where the wheel joined, and the train ground to a halt. It took place while McQuade was scouting ahead, and he returned to find men fashioning a new axle from a fallen tree.
“Our luck just run out,” said Henderson.
“We can't complain,” McQuade said. “It's the first breakdown we've had, and there was no neglect involved. Throw enough weight on an axle, and it breaks.”
He didn't mention the obvious, that they were in danger of Indian attack, and that any time lost only added to their peril. But the frantic pace at which they worked was evidence enough that every man understood the risk. They lost almost two hours, which eliminated the grazing time for the horses and mules at the end of the day. They had just taken the trail again, when the Kiowa struck. Two dozen strong, they charged the lead wagons while McQuade was near the end of the train. The men reined up, drawing their guns, but the Kiowa had the advantage. Ike Peyton, Gunter Warnell, and Eli Bibb drove the lead wagons, and they bore the brunt of the attack. While each of
the men killed one of the attackers, some of the arrows found their marks. An arrow ripped through Ike's upper left arm, while another tore into Maggie's right thigh. While Gunter Warnell escaped injury, one of the arrows ripped into Ellen's right side. Eli Bibb caught one of the vicious barbs, just below his left collar bone. Men leaped from their wagon boxes, revolvers in their hands, and the Kiowa rode away, leaving six of their number dead or dying. When McQuade arrived at a fast gallop, no explanation was necessary.
“It'll be hard on those of you who have been hurt,” said McQuade, “but we must get to water and circle the wagons, before we see to your wounds. Ike, are you able to handle your teams?”
“Yeah,” Ike said. “I ain't hit that hard. Maggie ⦔
“I can hold out,” said Maggie. “Best see to Ellen first.”
“Eli took a bad one,” McQuade said. “Odessa, can you handle the teams?”
“Yes,” said Odessa, her face pale.
“Then let's get these wagons moving,” McQuade said. “We must make up some time.”
They took the trail, McQuade in the lead, each of them aware that their position had become more critical. Maggie Peyton, Ellen Warnell, and Eli Bibb had serious wounds, and the arrows would have to be driven on through. Any one or all three could be seriously ill for the next several days, with high fever. Worse, if the arrows had struck any vitals, Eli's and Ellen's wounds might be fatal. Very much aware of the wounded Maggie at his side, Ike pushed the teams as hard as he dared. Ellen Warnell lay back on the wagon box, her eyes closed, while Eli Bibb clenched his teeth. Odessa gripped the reins, keeping her teams neck-and-neck with Ike's. When they finally reached the creek, McQuade quickly got the wagons into formation for the night. Men unharnessed their teams, while the women got fires going. The wounded took priority over everything else. Mary quickly
cleansed and bandaged Ike's wound. The others would be more difficult, for arrows had to be driven on through, before the wounds could be tended.
“Ike,” said McQuade. “this is a mite touchy. That arrow in Maggie's thigh will have to be driven on through, and it's not a task for a woman. It's up to you to do it, unless you can't. I won't do it without your permission and Maggie's.”
“Chance McQuade,” Maggie said, “I tended your wounds. Now the least you can do is tend mine. Do what must be done, to get this wicked thing out of me.”
“You heard her,” said Ike.
“I'll do my best, then,” McQuade said. “Gunter, you and Ellen have the same problem to face. That arrow has to come out of her. Can you remove it, or shall I?”
“If you're going to tend to Maggie,” Ellen said, “then tend to me. God knows, none of us has had any experience with this.”
“I'd be obliged, Chance,” said Gunter. “I'll do it if I have to, but I trust your hand more than my own.”
“Some of you help Mary get them into their wagons and get them ready,” McQuade said. “Gunter, help Eli out of that shirt.”
“Here's two quarts of whiskey,” said Ike. “You're goin' to need it.”
“Yes,” McQuade said, “and that's just for Maggie. I'll need equal amounts for Ellen and Eli. They're all going to have to be dog-drunk before I can drive those arrows out.”
McQuade went to the Peyton wagon and found Mary there. She had lit a lantern, and Maggie lay on her back, under a blanket.
“Maggie,” said McQuade, “I want you to drink half of one of these quarts of whiskey. It's all we have to help you stand the pain.”
“You're one in a million, Chance McQuade,” Maggie said. “There ain't another man on this earth I'd trust,
handin' me a bottle of whiskey and me jaybird naked under a blanket.”
Mary laughed and McQuade was thankful for the dimness of the lighted lantern. Odessa Bibb had taken it upon herself to see that Eli drank the prescribed whiskey, and he went on to Gunter Warnell's wagon. There he found Minerva Haymes and Lucy Tabor with Ellen Warnell. She too had been covered with a blanket.
“Ellen,” said McQuade, “I want you to drink half this bottle of whiskey. This is going to be painful, and we have nothing else to see you through it. Minerva, I'll need you or Lucy to light me a lantern.”
“Do you want one of us here while you drive the arrow through?” Minerva asked.
“It's a grim thing to watch,” said McQuade. “It's up to you.”
“This is the frontier,” Minerva said, “and I can't help feelin' that some of us ought to know about this kind of thing. I'll stay.”
“So will I, if you need me,” said Lucy.
“Thanks,” McQuade said. “Give that whiskey an hour.”
With Ike wounded, McQuade went to see that the first watch had taken its position, and found Gunter Warnell had taken charge.
“Somebody else could have taken care of that, Gunter,” said McQuade.
“I needed something to keep me busy,” Warnell said. “We must secure our wagons at night. There's enough danger on the trail.”
With Maggie and Ellen wounded, other women had taken it upon themselves to cook for McQuade, Warnell, and Ike Peyton. McQuade ate little. While he had removed arrows before, his patient had never been a female, and he was more nervous than he would have admitted. Returning to the Peyton wagon, he found Maggie deep in drunken slumber, snoring raggedly.
“I think she's ready,” said Mary.
“I know,” McQuade said. “I wish I didn't have to do this.”
“You're not embarrassed, are you? Maggie wasn't.”
“I'm not accustomed to doctoring naked women,” said McQuade, “but I got it to do.”
Mary removed the blanket and held the lighted lantern so that McQuade could see. He seized the shaft of the arrow and broke off all except what would be needed to drive the barb on through. Punching the loads out of his Colt, he took the weapon by the muzzle and began the grisly task. Even in her drunken stupor, Maggie grunted with pain. While holding the lantern, Mary had her eyes closed, unable to watch. When McQuade was finally finished, his shirt was soaked with sweat.
“Mary, there's hot water ready by now. Can you get one of the other women to help you cleanse, disinfect, and bandage her wound? I have to get to Ellen before the whiskey starts to wear off.”
“Yes,” said Mary.
McQuade went on to the Warnell wagon, where Minerva and Lucy waited with Ellen.
“She's asleep,” Minerva said. “Has it been long enough?”
“I think so,” said McQuade. “I'll only need one of you to hold the lantern. This is not an easy thing to watch.”
“We're staying,” Lucy said.
Lucy removed the blanket, while Minerva held the lantern. McQuade was relieved to see that while the arrow had pierced Ellen's side, it seemed to have struck a rib. There had been much bleeding, but the barb was driven out more easily than McQuade had expected.
“Will the two of you be able to cleanse, disinfect, and bandage her wound?” McQuade asked.
“Yes,” said Minerva. “You're dripping. Go fetch yourself a dry shirt.”
But McQuade's trial wasn't finished. He found Eli Bibb
in a deep sleep, and with his trembling hands slick with sweat, he drove the arrow on through. Odessa had insisted on holding the lantern, and when the ordeal was over, she stood there white-faced and silent. McQuade looked up and saw Mary at the wagon's tailgate, with the medicine chest.
“Could you take care of Eli?” McQuade asked. “I'm about done.”
He sank down on the wagon's tailgate, and Mary climbed in. A silent Odessa still held the lantern. Hardy Kilgore brought him a tin cup of hot coffee, and McQuade accepted it with a nod of thanks. Finishing the coffee, he put the cup down. His head sagged with weariness, and the next thing he knew, Mary was speaking to him.
“I want you to go to the wagon and sleep. You've done more than your share. I'll be awake, looking in on Maggie, Ellen and Eli. Ike too, if he needs me. I'll see that they all get more whiskey if they become feverish.”
“Thanks,” he mumbled, making his way toward the wagon. He must go on watch at midnight ⦠.
But McQuade was allowed to sleep, for they all realized what he had done. He awoke at dawn to the smell of brewing coffee. He was alone in the wagon, and he realized Mary had been up all night, seeing to the wounded. He got up and made his way to the breakfast fires, where Mary handed him a tin cup of hot coffee. She didn't wait for him to ask about the wounded, but volunteered the information.
“Ike got by without any fever. Ellen, Maggie, and Eli are on their second bottle of whiskey, and Maggie's starting to sweat. How do you feel?”
“Like I've been dipped in the creek and wrung out,” said McQuade. “Why didn't some of you wake me for my watch?”
“Because any man of us can stand watch,” Ike said. “You done your share and more, last night.”
“We'll lay over here today,” said McQuade. “When
Ellen, Maggie, and Eli are past the fever, we'll have to move on. These Kiowa have a real mad on, and as long as we're close by, they'll be tempted to come after us again.”
“The six we killed won't help our case any,” Gunter Warnell said.
McQuade felt better after breakfast, and he looked in on the wounded. Only Maggie was awake. She looked at McQuade, a ghastly grin on her haggard face, and when she spoke, her voice was a little slurred.
“Answer me one thing, McQuade. What in thunder leads a man to get drunk? God, my head feels like it's been used for an anvil or a chop block, and I've sweated so much, I stink. Get this blanket off me.”
“The blanket stays until you stop sweating,” said McQuade. “I'll have Mary bring you some water.”
Having survived an Indian attack, McQuade thought most of the outfit seemed just a little more confident. Some of them had questions.
“I can't understand why they didn't strike while we were replacing Henderson's axle,” Will Haymes said.
“I can,” said McQuade. “Everybody was on the ground, and could have acted much more quickly. As it was, with the wagons moving, you had to rein up your teams. I'd say it's a miracle none of you were killed.”
McQuade watched the sky for more smoke, but saw none. Time dragged, as they all waited for some improvement in the wounded. By noon, Maggie's fever had broken to the extent that she slept comfortably. Ellen and Eli had begun sweating, and by supper time, their condition had improved enough that McQuade believed they could travel. Only Eli was questionable, for his entire upper torso was swathed in bandages. But Odessa had an answer for that.
“I can handle the teams until Eli heals. The important thing is that we get these Kiowa behind us, before they decide to visit us again.”
“Bless you,” said McQuade. “Does that suit you, Eli?”
“Hell, yes,” Eli said. “Let's be on our way.”
McQuade's outfit having lost a day allowed Hook's wagons to catch up. After losing all his stock to a stampede by Indians, Hook was in no hurry to move into the lead. He had his wagons circled upstream, within sight of McQuade's wagon circle, but as he was to learn, that didn't spare him the wrath of the Kiowa. The Indians struck at dawn, just as the men were harnessing their teams. Creeker and his companions fought valiantly, and it was they who drove the Kiowa away. Two of Hook's teamsters were killed, and three more seriously wounded. In the wake of it, Hook began shouting orders, most of which were directed at Dr. Horace Puckett.