side.
For just a little while it was a quiet time in a pleasant room, and Barney Kilrone, in these last few years, had known few such times. Denise was talking of Zola, and how he had infuriated her father. Yet when his new books came out, he was among the first to buy them, grumbling as he did so.
Kilrone got up suddenly. “I’ve got to talk to Sergeant Ryerson. Did I understand he was in the hospital?”
Betty Considine got up to join him. “I have to see him, so I’ll take you there. The Sergeant has been very ill. He had pneumonia.”
They walked together in silence toward the hospital. The farrier working at the blacksmith shop had finished whatever it was he had been doing, and without the sound of the hammer on the anvil the post seemed dead, deserted.
The wind stirred and the leaves of a cottonwood rustled, but there was no other sound except that of their footsteps.
“It’s eerie,” Betty said, “after so much activity.”
“You said the Sergeant had been ill. How is he now?”
“He has been up, sitting in a chair. I don’t think he could walk very far yet. He had a very bad attack, and Uncle Carter was afraid we would lose him.”
“He’s a good man.” They walked on a few steps. “Can you shoot?” he asked suddenly.
“Yes.” She looked up at him. “Do you think we’ll be attacked?”
“Yes, by tonight or tomorrow. We’ve got one chance, as I see it. We’ve got to get everybody together at Headquarters. I think we might be able to defend that building, the hospital, and the warehouse. If the men are scattered out, we wouldn’t have any chance at all.”
“You think Frank was wrong, then?”
He shrugged. “Who can say? I doubt if I would have gone, but another man might have done as Frank did.”
They found Ryerson propped up in bed, reading a dime novel. His face broke into a smile when he saw Kilrone. “Captain! Well, I’ll be damned!”
“It’s been a long time, Tim.”
Ryerson gave a sharp glance at Kilrone’s shabby cowhand’s outfit. “You’re out of the army?”
“You should remember. I didn’t get along with an Indian agent, and he had political friends.”
“I remember. I didn’t know you’d resigned, though, because we went out west about that time.” He hesitated. “Captain, Iron Dave’s here.”
Barney Kilrone had started to speak. He broke off short. “Here?”
Suddenly he thought he began to see a pattern, a pattern of action and planning…but he must be wrong. Except that it was Sproul, and one should never underestimate the man. He was cold, dangerous, and utterly without principle, dedicated to his own interests and to nothing else.
“Has he got a place around here?” he asked.
“Over in Hog Town—the Empire. Be careful, Captain. Once he knows you’re out of the army he’ll be gunning for you. He only side-stepped you before because he knew he’d have the whole army on his neck. You watch your step.”
“Has he been trading with Indians?”
“He has a trading post alongside the Empire, but he makes no point of it. He stays right around the Empire except when he’s prospecting.”
“ Prospecting? Iron Dave Sproul?”
“That’s right. He’s really got the bug. He’s out every chance he gets…and he’s come in with some good stuff, I hear.”
Sproul…Sproul had been the man behind that crooked Indian agent, but so far behind that he was untouchable.
“Do you know him?” Betty asked Kilrone.
“He knows him all right,” Ryerson commented grimly. “Sproul threatened to shoot him on sight, and the Captain was going to give him the chance…but the Old Man wouldn’t have it. He confined the Captain to quarters.” He looked thoughtfully at Kilrone. “Sproul bragged that you were afraid to come in. He said he wouldn’t even use a gun, that he’d break you with his hands.”
“I didn’t know that.” Kilrone felt the old anger rising in him. He had to admit it was not only because of what he knew or suspected
For just a little while it was a quiet time in a pleasant room, and Barney Kilrone, in these last few years, had known few such times. Denise was talking of Zola, and how he had infuriated her father. Yet when his new books came out, he was among the first to buy them, grumbling as he did so.
Kilrone got up suddenly. “I’ve got to talk to Sergeant Ryerson. Did I understand he was in the hospital?”
Betty Considine got up to join him. “I have to see him, so I’ll take you there. The Sergeant has been very ill. He had pneumonia.”
They walked together in silence toward the hospital. The farrier working at the blacksmith shop had finished whatever it was he had been doing, and without the sound of the hammer on the anvil the post seemed dead, deserted.
The wind stirred and the leaves of a cottonwood rustled, but there was no other sound except that of their footsteps.
“It’s eerie,” Betty said, “after so much activity.”
“You said the Sergeant had been ill. How is he now?”
“He has been up, sitting in a chair. I don’t think he could walk very far yet. He had a very bad attack, and Uncle Carter was afraid we would lose him.”
“He’s a good man.” They walked on a few steps. “Can you shoot?” he asked suddenly.
“Yes.” She looked up at him. “Do you think we’ll be attacked?”
“Yes, by tonight or tomorrow. We’ve got one chance, as I see it. We’ve got to get everybody together at Headquarters. I think we might be able to defend that building, the hospital, and the warehouse. If the men are scattered out, we wouldn’t have any chance at all.”
“You think Frank was wrong, then?”
He shrugged. “Who can say? I doubt if I would have gone, but another man might have done as Frank did.”
They found Ryerson propped up in bed, reading a dime novel. His face broke into a smile when he saw Kilrone. “Captain! Well, I’ll be damned!”
“It’s been a long time, Tim.”
Ryerson gave a sharp glance at Kilrone’s shabby cowhand’s outfit. “You’re out of the army?”
“You should remember. I didn’t get along with an Indian agent, and he had political friends.”
“I remember. I didn’t know you’d resigned, though, because we went out west about that time.” He hesitated. “Captain, Iron Dave’s here.”
Barney Kilrone had started to speak. He broke off short. “Here?”
Suddenly he thought he began to see a pattern, a pattern of action and planning…but he must be wrong. Except that it was Sproul, and one should never underestimate the man. He was cold, dangerous, and utterly without principle, dedicated to his own interests and to nothing else.
“Has he got a place around here?” he asked.
“Over in Hog Town—the Empire. Be careful, Captain. Once he knows you’re out of the army he’ll be gunning for you. He only side-stepped you before because he knew he’d have the whole army on his neck. You watch your step.”
“Has he been trading with Indians?”
“He has a trading post alongside the Empire, but he makes no point of it. He stays right around the Empire except when he’s prospecting.”
“ Prospecting? Iron Dave Sproul?”
“That’s right. He’s really got the bug. He’s out every chance he gets…and he’s come in with some good stuff, I hear.”
Sproul…Sproul had been the man behind that crooked Indian agent, but so far behind that he was untouchable.
“Do you know him?” Betty asked Kilrone.
“He knows him all right,” Ryerson commented grimly. “Sproul threatened to shoot him on sight, and the Captain was going to give him the chance…but the Old Man wouldn’t have it. He confined the Captain to quarters.” He looked thoughtfully at Kilrone. “Sproul bragged that you were afraid to come in. He said he wouldn’t even use a gun, that he’d break you with his hands.”
“I didn’t know that.” Kilrone felt the old anger rising in him. He had to admit it was not only because of what he knew or suspected
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