Clarence Cotter came riding into town as fast as his 15 year old roan would carry him, which wasn’t going to win him any horse races at this year’s county fair. “Where’s the sheriff?” he was yelling to anybody who would listen.
“What’s up, Clarence?” Hack Thompson yelled back at him.
“Injuns hit our place last night,” Cotter replied, and pulled his horse up in front of the law office. Since he had hollered loud enough to raise the dead, Dan Harmon came outside to meet him.
“What did you say, Clarence?” Dan asked him. A crowd started gathering round.
Cotter and his wife Mabel had a small ranch less than 10 miles from Arkmore. “I was ready for ‘em, Sheriff, and sent them heathern back the way they come faster’n a coon can skin a fish.”
“Ok, ok,” Dan asked. “Back up. Your ranch was hit…last night? You say it was Indians?”
“Yeah, last night, and they was sure dressed like redskins. Just like all the other times, Sheriff. Me and Mabel was inside the house. We’d just et supper and I was cleanin’ my rifle. I was ready fer ‘em, almost hopin’ they’d come. Well, sure enough, I hear that drum beat, and then that weird Injun singin’. I stuck my head out the back door and here come three fellas loping toward the house from the barn. I yelled at ‘em, stuck my ol’ Henry out the door, and cut loose. They skedaddled right quick, I tell ye what. I bet there weren’t no ‘whoop-whoop-whoopin’’ and ‘yip-yip-yippin’’ at the reservation last night.” He cackled.
“Did you hit any them?”
“I mighta grazed one, but nobody dropped. It was dark, so I wasn’t of a mind to chase ‘em.”
“It was Injuns, Clarence?” Buster Newton asked.
“Yep, shore was,” Clarence replied.
Buster looked at Harmon. “I thought that Ranger said Indians wasn’t doing it, Sheriff.”
“I said it was white men dressed as Indians.” Allie was walking up, having just finished breakfast at a nearby diner. “And I explained why I believed that at the meeting earlier this week. I’m sure, if we go out there, we’ll find the same sign as before.”
Buster Newton looked a bit skeptical. “Well, I, for one, ain’t convinced it’s not Indians. I just can’t believe white men would do this sort of thing.”
“You’ll believe it when you see them hanging from the end of a rope,” Allie retorted. Then she spoke to Clarence Cotter. “None of your family was hurt?”
“No, ma’am, I skeered ‘em off afore they got to the house. It was som’thin’, I tell you. That ‘boom-boom-boom’ o’ the drums, and then that weird singin’—kinda creepy. But I’s ready for ‘em, I rightly was.”
“Ok, Clarence, I think we have the picture,” Dan said. “Good work. We’re glad you and Mabel are safe.”
Clarence cackled again as he walked off. “You shoulda seed that Injun’s eyes when I leveled my Henry at ‘im….” And his voice trailed off.
The crowd was staring to disperse, some of them looking at the sheriff and the ranger. Harmon spoke to Allie. “Let’s go inside my office, Ranger Summer. We need to talk.”
“All right,” and she followed him inside his office.
Dan shut the door. He and Allie looked at each other. And smiled.
Allie said, “Now let’s wait and see what Mister X does…”
Monday, June 27
“I thought I told you men to wait until Saturday,” One Man—Mister X—said to the Four Other Men. “And to hit the same ranch. That place you raided was on the other side of town.”One of the Four was shaking his head. “It wasn’t us, boss. We didn’t make that attack.”
“What?”
One of the Four shrugged. “Somebody is playin’ games with you. It wasn’t us. We’ve been good little boys, minding our own business. We didn’t go anywhere near that ranch.”
Mister X stared at the four men, but he wasn’t really looking at them. “Well, who in the world…?” he muttered. He turned away, an angry frown on his face, thinking. He shook his head. “I can’t figure it. Somebody is copying our tactics.”
“Why? And who?”
Mister X turned back to his men. “I don’t know the answer to either question, but let’s press the point and maybe we can find out. Instead of hitting the Rogers ranch Saturday, do it Wednesday. I’m curious to see what kind of reaction we get.”
“You think Harmon has anything to do with it?”
The boss shook his head in uncertainty. “I don’t know. I don’t think he’s that smart. But that Ranger worries me. She might have staged the whole thing just to see what we’d do.” He smiled, an evil, malicious. “Well, let’s counterpunch and see what she does. Hit that ranch Wednesday.”
“Ok, boss. Uh…can we drop the drums and music? I mean, that Cotter feller said that when he heard the drums, he knew what it was about. We can still dress as Indians, but announcing our presence could get dangerous.”
“Yeah, all right. The silent approach should work. Just don’t muck it up this time.”
“Gotcha.” The Four Other Men left.
Mister X was deep in thought. “What is she trying to do?...”
Swift Current and Live Spirit had spent an uneventful few days camped about 300 yards north of the outlaw hideout. They’d done some fishing and hunting—the latter with bows and arrows, Allie didn’t want them shooting guns lest they be heard and the two men discovered. With his knife, Swift Current had made several spears, which he and Live Spirit had used to catch fish. They also practiced their throwing marksmanship, a contest which Swift Current won every time.
On Monday afternoon, the two young braves were having such a competition, heaving the spears at a tree some 30 paces away. Live Spirit threw his spear and missed the target by about six inches, though he did hit the tree. Swift Current’s missile hit the mark, dead center. “Nice throw, Swift Current,” Live Spirit complemented him. He was used to losing to his friend.
“You are getting better, Live Spirit,” his companion replied.
Before the two young men could walk to the tree and retrieve their spears, another struck the tree—splitting Swift Current’s spear right down the middle.
Swift Current didn’t turn around to see where the spear had come from, he simply put his hands on his hips, an annoyed expression on his face. “Summer Rain is here,” he said.
And indeed, she was. Allie had come a couple of times to visit. The relations between her and Swift Current seemed—to Allie—a bit strained. He was somewhat aloof. “I brought you some food,” she said she said with a pixy smile, as the two men turned towards her.
“Bah,” Swift Current replied, not smiling back. “White man’s food?”
“Well, there is some dried fruit, beans—“
And once again, Swift Current scoffed, waving away the bag Allie was offering. “We don’t need it,” he said. “We have found game and fish.”
“Suit yourself,” the ranger answered, and reached in the sack, pulled out a dried apple, and started munching on it. “No sign of the men, I suppose.”
“No,” Swift Current replied. He watched as Live Spirit threw another spear. “How long must we stay? It gets boring here.”
“I told you, I don’t know. Whenever the men come.” Allie shrugged. “What would you be doing back at the reservation? You would be bored there, too.”
“This is true,” Swift Current replied. “Why did you not get white men to do this work?”
“They can’t do it as well as Indians,” Allie said. “They would be up here shooting everything that moves.”
Swift Current actually laughed at that. “Yes, that is the way of the white man. Scared of his own shadow.”
“But keep a closer watch now, Swift Current,” Allie said. “Our trap was laid last night. If the men respond as I expect, they may come in the next few days.”
Swift Current pulled his knife and said savagely, “I can solve your problem for you, Summer Rain. This is nothing a few scalps cannot cure.”
“Don’t you do any such thing, Swift Current,” Allie said, heatedly. “These men are only pawns. I need to capture them so that they will tell me who hired them.”
Swift Current sheathed his knife with some disgust. “The white man and his law. So complicated.”
“It protects you now, too, Swift Current,” Allie replied. And, not wanting to argue with him about it again, she turned away. “I will leave the food. Inform me, as quickly as possible, when the men arrive at the cabin.”
Swift Current watched his cousin walk away, wanting to say something, but not finding the words.
Wednesday, June 29
They came in the early evening. The two Cheyenne braves had taken turns going to the north edge of the cul-de-sac every two hours or so to see if the outlaws had come to the cabin, and it was now Live Spirit’s turn. Before he got to within 20 yards of the edge, he could hear the men talking. Immediately, he ran back to the camp.“Swift Current, the men Summer Rain fear have arrived at the cabin!”
Swift Current immediately dropped the spear he had been whittling on and, with Live Spirit following, made his cautious way to the cul-de-sac. Just as Allie had done, they traversed the final few yards on their stomach. Looking over the edge of the ridge, Swift Current could see the men and hear them more clearly.
“Boxer, get those horses watered and fed,” a tall, slender man wearing a sombrero ordered. Boxer, a powerfully built fellow who had a squashed nose that looked it had been broken a few times, nodded and headed towards the corral.
“When do you want to leave, Ace?” another fellow, called Skupper, asked the tall man, who was obviously in charge.
Ace looked at the sky. The sun had now disappeared over the horizon, but orange and pink still painted the western sky. “I think we’d better leave in the next few minutes. Lefty said he knows a shortcut to that ranch, that we can get there in a couple of hours. We need to attack before they go to bed.” He turned and shouted at Boxer. “Hurry up with those horses, Boxer! And get them saddled and ready to go.” He turned back to Skupper. “Let’s get into our Indian outfits.”
“No drums and singin’ this time?” Skupper asked.
“No, we’ll forego that. Hit ‘em fast and hard.”
“I hope the woman is purty,” Skupper said with a demented chuckle.
The fourth man, Lefty, showed up about that time with a big burlap sack. “What do you care what she looks like, Skupper? She don’t care nuthin’ about what you look like.” And he laughed. He turned the sack he was holding upside down and some clothes fell out. “Here’s the Injun garb.”
“Ok, let’s get changed,” Ace said.
As they were putting on their Indian outfits, Skupper chuckled again. “Ain’t they gonna be surprised when we hit the same ranch as last time? That Ranger won’t be nowhere near there.”
“That’s the idea,” Ace said. “People think lightening never strikes the same place twice.” He laughed. “Well, they are going to find out, this time, that it does.”
Swift Current tapped Live Spirit on the shoulder and motioned him to move back. The two Indians slithered away from the rim of the horseshoe, and when they were a sufficient distance, got to their feet and in a crouching jog, headed back to their camp. When they arrived, Swift Current spoke urgently.
“Ride, Live Spirit, ride like the wind to the white man’s town where Summer Rain is. Tell her that the men have come and they plan to attack the same ranch and that they will do so before the moon is high.”
“What will you do, Swift Current?” Live Spirit said, as he fastened a rope bridle onto his pony.
“I will follow the white eyes barbarians. I do not know this ranch or I would go ahead of them.” He looked at his friend. “You simply must find Summer Rain as soon as possible. The lives of the white ranchers are at stake.”
Live Spirit nodded, and with a “heeyah,” the pony took off. Swift Current watched him. And spoke to the night sky: “Yes, the lives of the white ranchers, and perhaps the home of our people…”
A horse is like a human, it can run at top speed for only a short distance and then it must slow down. Live Spirit put his mustang pony into a ground-eating lope, and at that pace, it was going to take him well over an hour to arrive at Arkmore. But it was that…or kill the horse and not arrive at all. I wonder where Summer Rain will be…go to the lawman’s office first…
It was fully dark now and the young Cheyenne brave was filled with anxiety…
The “white eyes barbarians” left the cabin area about 20 minutes after Live Spirit departed. Though there was still a faint glow of sunlight in the west, that was the direction Ace and his bandits were headed, so it was dark behind them. Swift Current had no problem following them, keeping at a discreet distance, using what shadows and cover he could find, avoiding, at all costs, being profiled against the night sky. For it was going to be another clear, star-studded night, though the moon would probably be no more than a quarter full.
Swift Current was too far behind to hear any of their conversation, but if the wind and terrain were just right, he could catch an occasional laugh. He tried to think of some course of action in case Allie did not arrive in time. He had his knife, and he had five spears with him. It will be enough…When he saw the lights of Arkmore, Live Spirit put his game pony into a gallop. The young Indian brave rode into town at full speed, and that attracted attention. But he pulled up. “Sheriff office,” he said to a man standing near the street. “I must find Summer Rain.”
The fellow didn’t understand. “Huh?”
Live Spirit’s English was not good. He simply repeated. “Sheriff office. Very important.”
The man pointed. “Two blocks, other side of the street.”
Live Spirit put the pony into a sprint and arrived at Dan Harmon’s office within a minute. He saw Allie’s horse hitched in front of the building, so hope rose inside him. He hopped off the horse before the mustang had come to a complete halt, and ran for the door. It was locked. Frustrated, he looked in the window. A light was on, but nobody was there.
The Cheyenne turned around, and with some desperation, looked both ways. He saw a couple coming towards him and ran to them. “Summer Rain. Where?”
The man and his wife backed up a step, a little concerned about the haste and demeanor of the Indian. “Summer Rain?” the man replied. “I’m…sorry. I don’t know any Indians.”
His wife spoke. “I think he means the ranger, Allie Summer.”
“Yes! Yes!” Live Spirit nodded vigorously. “Aller Summer.” He had trouble pronouncing her English name. “Where? Please. Very important.”
The man answered. “Well, if she’s not in the sheriff’s office, you can try the Bear Den Restaurant. I think she eats there a lot.”
Again, Live Spirit nodded enthusiastically. “Eat house. Where?”
“Two blocks,” the man said, pointing. “On the corner, across the street.”
Live Spirit took off on a run. He never made it to the Bear Den.
He dashed across the street and onto the boardwalk. He crossed a side street, but before he could get halfway down the next block, he ran into Monte May and his brothers Mel and Milt. They were big, they were mean, and they didn’t like anybody, especially Indians.
As Live Spirit started to run around him, Monte grabbed his arm. “Hold on a minute, Injun. Just where do you think ye’re going in such an all fire hurry?”
Live Spirit tried to get away, but Monte held him fast. “I must find Summer Rain. Very important.”
“Oh,” Monte said, “ye’re lookin’ fer summer rain, are ye? Well, we’re all lookin’ fer summer rain. It ain’t rained around here in weeks and the grass is pretty dry.” And they all laughed.
“No, no,” Live Spirit said, desperately squirming. “Summer Rain. Ranger. Aller Summer.”
“He wants that Injun squaw, Monte,” Milt said. “Don’t rightly blame him. She’s quite a looker.”
“Maybe she at eat place,” Live Spirit said. “I must go.” And he tried to pull away again, but Monte wouldn’t let him go.
“Well, tell you what, little Injun brave, if you promise to share her with us, maybe we’ll let you go. In a while,” Monte said, with a laugh.
Live Spirit’s desperation grew. He wasn’t especially big, certainly nowhere near the size of the May boys, but if I can just break away, I can outrun them…. So he did the only other thing he knew to do. He stomped, as hard as he could, on Monte May’s foot. Monte hollered, but Live Spirit’s action wasn’t sufficient to free him.
“Why you savage!” Monte said. “That hurt. Maybe we ought to teach you some manners.” The three boys had surrounded the Indian and now Monte pushed Live Spirit over to Milt, who then shoved him to Mel, who tossed him over to Monte—who hit him in the stomach—and shoved him back over to Milt.
Live Spirit was doing a fine imitation of a pinball. And there wasn’t a thing in the world he could do about it.
And all the while Ace and his boys were getting closer and closer to the Rogers ranch…
Gordy Hayes saw what was happening. He was an old timer, who made a few extra dollars each month sweeping up at night for some of the local businesses. Gene’s Fine Hardware and Home Supplies store was across the street from where the May brothers were hazing Live Spirit. Gordy had never liked the May boys—almost nobody did—and, while he had never especially been an Indian lover, he sensed the urgency in Live Spirit. And when he saw what Monte and his brothers had in mind for the young Cheyenne brave, he set aside his broom and walked quickly towards the Bear Den Restaurant.
When he entered the restaurant, he looked around and spotted Allie near the back. He took his hat off and walked up to the table. The sheriff was also there. The two lawmen were eating a late dinner.
Gordy was a bit nervous as Allie looked at him. Twirling his hat in his fingers, he said, “Beggin’ yore pardon, ma’am, you eatin’ and ever’thang, but there’s a young Injun feller down the street lookin’ fer ye, kinda urgent like. The May boys stopped him and I don’t think they’s gonna let him get here. Leastwise, not in one piece or any time soon.”
Allie was only halfway through her meal, but she didn’t pause. Grabbing her hat and jumping up, she said, “Thanks, old timer,” and, not waiting for Harmon, was out the door in three seconds. “To yer right!” she heard Gordy yell, and Allie looked in that direction. It was dark, but she heard some laughing and scuffling about half a block away and ran towards it.
Sure enough, there were the May boys, shoving Live Spirit around, and the young Indian was starting to go limp. Allie didn’t bother with talk—at least initially. She pulled her gun, pointed it in the air, and fired. That got the attention of the May brothers.
Allie then aimed the revolver directly at the head of Monte May. “You let him go—right now—or my next bullet sees whether or not it can find what little brains you’ve got in your head.” She cocked the pistol and her aim was steady.
There was enough light from some nearby lamps that Monte May could see Allie’s eyes. Nobody liked Allie Summer’s eyes, not when they were staring the way they were staring at Monte May. At that moment, Sheriff Dan Harmon came running up.
“Let him go, Monte,” Dan ordered.
“He attacked us first, Sheriff. Filthy redskin.”
“Sheriff Harmon,” Allie said, in her cold-as-ice voice, “why do I get the impression that I’m not looking at some of Arkmore’s finest, most upstanding citizens?”
Monte’s face went ugly. “You don’t scare us none, Ranger.”
His hat went flying from his head, courtesy of a bullet from Allie’s gun.
“Oops,” Allie said. “I missed. Maybe if I am a few inches lower…” And she cocked the gun again.
Monte was shocked. “Sheriff, did you see what she done? She almost kilt me!”
“No, Monte, I didn’t see a thing,” Dan Harmon replied. “I think it was a gust of wind that blew your hat off.”
Monte had dropped Live Spirit, who was lying on the boardwalk, conscious but breathing hard, and recovering. Now, he spoke, “Summer Rain, the men came to the cabin. Four of them. They are going to attack the same ranch as before. The same ranch. They were almost ready to leave when I did. Two hours, they said.”
Now, Allie’s blood matched her eyes--ice. “When, Live Spirit?”
“Over…over an hour ago. Maybe an hour and half now.”
“Oh, no,” Allie groaned.
“What did he say?” Harmon asked. The two Indians—one and a half—had spoken in the Cheyenne tongue.
“The four men came to the cabin and they are going to attack tonight. The Rogers ranch again.”
“Oh, no,” Dan echoed. “We never would have expected that. Can we get there in time?”
“Maybe if we leave now and you have a fast horse.” Allie hurried over to Live Spirit and helped him to his feet. She spoke to Monte May. “If the Rogers die tonight because the sheriff and I are 15 minutes late getting to their home, I’m going to have you three arrested for accessory to murder.”
“You cain’t do that!”
“Ok, I’ll have the sheriff do it. Let’s go, Dan.”
Live Spirit was able to keep up with Allie and Harmon as they ran back to sheriff’s office to get their horses. “Is this…young man…who you had staking out the cabin?”
“Him, and a cousin of mine.” And Allie thought of Swift Current, and the anxiety in her tripled. She knew that, if she didn’t arrive in time, Swift Current would try to stop the raid. She knew he would.
And she also knew that he’d probably die in the process.
The Rogers ranch was nearly five miles from Arkmore. Allie’s horse, Ranger, was strong and he was fast. She had him at a full gallop within 15 paces. Dan Harmon had a good bay steed, but he wasn’t as fast as Ranger. But he kept up as best as he could. Live Spirit’s Indian pony was tired, but game and strong, and he kept the two lawmen in sight.
The problem is, even the best of horses can sustain a full gallop for two miles, at most. Nearing that mark, Allie detected Ranger beginning to wheeze, so she had to slow down. In fact, she stopped completely, full of angst, but needing to give the horse a rest. In less than a minute, Dan Harmon came trotting up, and soon after, Live Spirit.“We’ll never get there if we kill the horses,” Dan said.
“I know,” Allie said, patting Ranger on the side of the neck. The Appaloosa snorted through his nose. He was about ready to go again. “Let’s keep the pace a little slower, but as fast as the horses can stand. When we get close, I may turn Ranger loose again.”
“Fair enough,” Harmon replied, concern written on his handsome face. “I only hope we’re in time.”
“I do, too,” Allie answered. She bit her lower lip. The main thought on her mind was…Swift Current…Agony drove her on. “Let’s go,” she said, and put Ranger into a ground-eating canter…
The four raiders had kept up a good pace and within two hours neared their destination. They stopped about 200 yards from the ranch, picketed their horses, and approached on foot.
Swift Current was now 50 yards behind them and closing fast. He stopped about 30 yards away, on the crest of hill but hidden behind some sagebrush. He could see the four white men, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying because Ace was speaking in a very low voice.They were on a slight swale about 100 yards from the ranch house now. Ace said, “Skupper, you go around the front and hide on the other side of the house. Lefty, you go around the back and hide next to that back outbuilding. Me and Boxer will approach from the barn. When I yell, ‘Go!’, we’ll all charge the house at the same time. Boxer, you and Lefty go in the back, and I’ll swing around front and join Skupper. He and I will enter through the front door. We’ll have ‘em surrounded. Like always, use your bow and arrows and knives. No guns unless absolutely necessary.” The four men did carry sidearms or rifles, but weren’t to use them except in an emergency. “Any questions?”
Nobody had any.
“Ok, let’s do it. Remember, wait till you hear me yell ‘Go!’”
The four men moved off down the hill, separating to go to their duly appointed locations. Patiently, like…an Indian…Swift Current watched…
And waited…
Swift Current watched one of the white eyes barbarians disappear around the front side of the house. Another he saw at the back outbuilding. The other two had gone into the back entrance of the barn. The young Indian brave figured it was time to act…
He stood up, cupped his hands to his mouth, and screeched at the top of his lungs, “Yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi, hoh hoh hoh hoh hoh hoh hoh yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi…”
Art Rogers was in his living room, reading a book. His wife, Rita, was putting the baby to bed. When he heard the Indian war cry, his face registered his shock. “What in the world—“ And then he knew. “Indians! Rita, hide in the closet with the baby. Now!”
He couldn’t hear his wife’s response because he had jumped up and grabbed the rifle which was over the fireplace mantle. Checking it quickly, he ran to the back door…
Ace’s response was the same as Art’s. “What in tarnation?—That sounds like an Injun.” He quickly ran to the back of the barn and looked out. Swift Current was still chanting his war hoop and, being on the crest of a hill, was silhouetted against the sky. Ace aimed his rifle and fired.
Swift Current disappeared from sight and his war chant ceased.
In spite of the clopping of horse’s hooves beneath her, Allie heard her cousin’s war cry in the clear night air, where sound travels so well. Swift Current!
Then she heard the rifle shot…and silence…
Ace ran back to the front door of the barn where Boxer was waiting for him. “That’s one less savage we have to worry about,” he said, and then, pushing open the barn door, he yelled, “Go!”
Three men—Lefty, Boxer, and Ace—came out of hiding and headed for the house.But Art Rogers was ready for them. As soon as he saw any movement at all, he leveled his rifle and started shooting. He didn’t hit anybody, but the three raiders beat a hasty retreat back to their hiding places.
And then…Allie Summer came riding onto the ranch property. She pulled her rifle and started firing at the men in the barn. As noted, all of Ace’s men were carrying guns, so a full-fledged shootout began.
Allie dismounted and, with bullets clipping the ground around her, ran to the front porch of the house, and then to the edge. She could see the barn and could tell by the muzzle flashes that two men were in there, and a third was beside the outbuilding. Rifle fire from the rear of the house indicated that Art Rogers was defending his home, and effectively. Allie winced and ducked as a bullet took out a chunk of wood a few inches above her head. She aimed at that muzzle flash, and was rewarded by a cry of agony.But going through her mind was, Where’s the fourth man?
Ace made a minor mistake by only giving the “Go!” command once. At the very moment he yelled, Skupper was levering a cartridge into his rifle, just in case he needed it. Being on the opposite side of the house, the sound of the rifle action, to him, was louder than Ace’s voice. So Skupper didn’t move when Ace shouted. But when he heard the shooting, he figured it was time to investigate.
He slowly crept around the side of the house, towards the front. He saw Allie Summer, with her back to him, aiming and shooting her rifle towards the barn. Skupper grinned. As soundlessly as possible, he climbed onto the porch and moved towards the ranger.She never saw him coming.
When he got to within 15 feet, Skupper said, “All right, little lady, party’s over…”
Allie heard him and turned. She saw Skupper’s rifle pointed right at her. She swung her own gun around, but she’d never get into play in time. Skupper’s bullet would end her life. Allie knew she was finished…
But then, a voice, from behind her. “NO!” Skupper was distracted and didn’t shoot. Allie, as well, turned to look. She saw Swift Current running towards them, a spear in his hand. At 30 feet, and with a terrifying Indian cry, he launched the missile at Skupper. The outlaw’s eyes got huge. He screamed, and just before the spear struck him in the stomach, the point end going all the way through, he fired the rifle.
The gun had been aimed at Swift Current. The bullet took the young brave full in the chest.
“Swift Current!” Allie screamed in distress, but just then, another bullet clipped the side of the house near her. In frustration, she aimed at the barn and fired several times. She didn’t hit anything, but there was no return fire.
Art Rogers fired again, and Allie saw a body stumble away from the corner of the back outbuilding and fall to the ground.
Right then, Dan Harmon and Live Spirit rode up. Dan shouted, “This is Sheriff Dan Harmon of Arkmore. Everybody come out with their hands up!”
A bullet from Allie had hit Boxer and killed him. Lefty was dead, too, as was Skupper. Ace saw all of this and knew the game was up. “Don’t shoot, Sheriff!” he shouted. “I’m comin’ out!” And he tossed his gun out the door of the barn and came out with his hands up.
Allie let Dan take care of that. Seeing it was safe, she ran to Swift Current. The young brave was lying on his back. He was still alive, but hurt badly. The bullet was high up in his chest. Tears formed in the lady ranger’s eyes.
Swift Current opened his eyes and saw her. “Go…go back to our people…Summer Rain…”
Allie nodded, the tears now streaming down her cheeks. She took Swift Current by the hand and said, “I will go, Swift Current. I will go and tell them that Swift Current was a brave warrior, and he fought like a warrior. He fought…like a man.”
Swift Current smiled. “A man. I am finally…a man…in your eyes, Summer Rain…”
"Do not die, Swift Current," Allie pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Please do not die. The Cheyenne still need...brave warriors...and leaders of men."
The young Indian brave smiled again. Then sighed and closed his eyes.
Then, Allie closed her own eyes, lowered her head, curled up into a ball…and wept.
Two days later…
About mid-afternoon of a hot summer day, Ranger Allie Summer slowly approached the gates of Ft. Pearson. The sentry on duty said to her, “Identify yourself.” Without stopping and without looking at him, Allie simply showed him her badge and he waved her on through. She walked her horse to Colonel Timothy Einarsen’s office and dismounted. Looking around briefly, she spotted a couple of men. Showing them her badge, Allie said, “Lieutenant, Sergeant, I might need your help. Please come with me.”
The two men appeared a little bewildered, but nodded and followed Allie into the building.
The West Point adjutant was at his desk and looked up when Allie and the two men walked in. The ranger paid him no mind and went straight to Colonel Einarsen’s door.
“You can’t go in there,” the adjutant said.
The Lieutenant with Allie, a man named Hawthorne, waved him down. “She’s a civilian law officer. I want to see what she’s doing.”
Allie entered the colonel’s office. Einarsen was at his desk. His face clouded a bit when he saw her. Allie’s hair was down so it was obvious she was a woman.
“Lady, may I ask what this intrusion is for?” His adjutant, Rogers, had trailed the others into the room. Einarsen looked at him. “Lieutenant Rogers, would you care to explain why you let her in here?”
Allie’s face was calm, almost stoic. She was the one who spoke. “My name is Allie Summer, Colonel Einarsen. I am a Montana Ranger and I am placing you under arrest for the deaths of six white settlers in this territory.”
Einarsen’s eyes got hard and he stood up. “Are you out of your mind, Ranger? I’ve heard of you. Allie Summer. You think you’re a hotshot—“
Allie interrupted. “You made one fatal mistake, Einarsen,” she said.
“Oh?”
“Yes. You should have taught your men a Cheyenne song.”
“What are you talking about?”
Slowly, very slowly, Allie started beating time with her hand on the chair in front of her. Then she started singing.
Ay o lay lale lo e-la, lay-o
Ay o lay lale lo e-lael-lay o lola lo e-la, lay-o
Ay o lay lale lo e-la…
Colonel Timothy Einarsen's eyes got huge. Allie saw fear in them, and then anger. And then the colonel made his last, fatal mistake. He went for the gun on his hip.
Allie shot him twice in the heart.The lady ranger watched him sink to the floor, surprise on his face. Then his eyes curled up into his head, and he died.
The two lieutenants and the sergeant, who had watched all of this, were dumbfounded. They simply stared at Allie as she holstered her gun and slowly turned to walk out the room. She didn’t look at them.
All she said was, “Einarsen was Scandinavian.”