Chapter 10: Parley and Ultimatum
#10 of A Distant Shore
This story is a work of fiction. The story and characters are copyright Radical Gopher and may not be duplicated or used without the express permission of the author. This story contains adult situations and should not be viewed by those under the age of eighteen.
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A DISTANT SHORE - PARLEY AND ULTIMATUM
One of the first things Captain Lewis saw upon entering the stockade was Lieutenant Evans. The fennec was standing next to a tool shed, a red bandana wrapped around his head and he was carrying a non-regulation Sharp's repeating rifle. The lynx wheeled his horse towards the officer and dismounted. Evans came to attention and saluted.
"Lieutenant... what the hell is going on around here?" He glanced about the compound. "Where are Sergeant McMullen and Privates Cutter and Phibbs?"
"I'm sorry to report, sir, that they are under arrest and presently confined to this tool shed along with Roark Temple."
The Captain's eyebrows shot up. "Arrest? Why? On what charge and by whose authority?"
"That would be by my authority," replied Marshall White Cloud, easing his mount alongside that of Lewis'. "The charge is murder, rape, assault and attempted murder of a Federal officer."
The lynx looked up at the Marshall. "With all due respect to the law, the sergeant and his men are engaged in a military expedition..."
"An illegal military expedition," Gabe calmly asserted.
"...And you do not have either the authority nor the jurisdiction to arrest them," Lewis finished.
"By your leave, sir, he does," Evans said. "Under the present circumstances I felt it proper to surrender the prisoners to civilian authority."
"WHAT?" roared the Captain. "Why would you do such a thing?"
"Because I am the Federal officer they tried to murder, sir."
The lynx's jaw dropped open in disbelief for a moment before his face took on a grim visage. "You are a damned fool, lieutenant," he hissed, "and the Colonel's gon'na nail your hide to the nearest outhouse door for this."
"More than likely, sir." Evans replied.
Lewis held out the reins of his horse to Evans. "Take my mount, Lieutenant. I want you to ride out and rejoin the column. You can consider yourself in hack until further notice."
"I'm sorry, but no sir, I cannot."
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN NO!" the Captain exploded.
"He means," Gabe interjected firmly, "that he can't. As a duly appointed Federal Marshall I have the authority to deputize anyone I consider necessary in the lawful execution of my job. I have therefore conscripted the lieutenant and will release him back to his military duties when I have my prisoners safely under guard at the territorial capitol."
Lewis was at a complete loss for words. He was not well versed in civilian law, but he understood regulations well enough to know a Federal Marshall's authority superceded his own in such matters. He looked at Gabe and knew the wolf's mind was set. There'd be no talking him out of it. He wrapped the horse's reins around his hand.
"Well... let's get too it. Where is Miss Collier?"
"If you'll follow me," the Marshall replied. He turned his horse and rode up to the porch of a nearby building. Captain Lewis followed, leading his own mount. He noticed a native girl with white fur standing at the door. She wore a bronze mask, similar to those worn by tribal dancers, but different in that the left eye was covered over. He wondered at that as she went into the structure and returned momentarily with a young badger-girl wearing a smudged and worn dress. Her hands were manacled in front of her.
"Miss Collier?" the lynx asked, his eyebrows arched in surprise.
"Who the hell are you?" she replied sullenly.
"I'm Captain Lewis... Company B, 2nd Frontier Guards Regiment. I'm here with your father."
The sullen expression on her face vanished, replaced with a look of hopeful expectation. "Daddy? He's here?"
"Yes ma'am. He's right outside the stockade, along with an entire Guards Company. We're here to escort you home..."
The Marshall cleared his throat rather loudly, interrupting the lynx and causing both he and Collier to look up.
"I'm sorry, Captain, but that won't be possible."
Lewis glanced between Gabriel and the Collier girl. He'd almost expected as much, seeing the handcuffs around her wrists, but it was still exasperating. "Why?" he asked, keeping a tight grip on his temper.
"She's being held on suspicion of aiding and abetting a fugitive and assault on a peace officer," the wolf replied simply.
"It's not true," the girl screeched. "They used me... Temple, his men... even that half-breed Marshall and his squaw whore." She clutched frantically at the Captain's tunic. "I'm innocent. I'm the victim here! I AM!"
Lewis looked into the girl's face. Something in her eyes... a kind of hardness that should not have been there, gave him the impression that she was not being entirely honest with him. "Calm down Miss April. Your father and I will get to the bottom of this." He looked back up at Gabriel. "Marshall! I'm afraid that neither the Colonel nor I can allow you to take her back to the territorial capitol. At least not without an armed escort."
The wolf shook his head. "I already have my escort, Captain. The prisoners are under control and I have no need for your protection. Furthermore, the longer you and your troop hang around here, the more likely your presence will stir up trouble with the natives."
"I am afraid the Colonel will insist," Lewis replied, wrapping one arm protectively around the girl. "I'm taking Miss April with me!" As he moved to embrace the female a small derringer dropped into his free hand from a wrist-mounted holster. He started to raise his arm then froze.
The Marshall already had his pistol pointed right between the Lynx's eyes. "You do and it will be the biggest mistake you ever made!"
The Captain stared into the gun barrel for several long seconds before letting his arm slowly drop away from the badger. The derringer slid from his hand, throwing up a small cloud of dust where it clattered to the ground. Snowbird stepped forward and firmly unpeeled April Collier from Lewis, then walked her back into the cabin.
"This isn't over," the Captain growled. Stepping back, he swung himself onto his mount and wheeled it sharply towards the gate, covered by both the Marshall and one of the native vixens. The stockade gate opened and Lewis cantered partway through it before wheeling back towards the wolf. "May I trouble you for my gun... SIR!"
"They'll both be waiting for you back in town, once you've removed yourself from this side of the river."
Scowling, the Captain wheeled his horse and kicked it sharply, causing it to bolt out the gate, which slammed shut behind him.
Holstering his pistol, Gabe slowly dismounted and walked over to a nearby ladder. He climbed, taking each rung carefully as he made his way to the rampart that ran the inside length of the wooden wall. From here, he could see Captain Lewis as he rode across the stream and reported to Colonel Collier.
Gabe felt more than saw Snowbird as she moved up next to him. "You should not have climbed up here!" she growled softly. "You wound is not yet healed."
"I didn't have much choice," the wolf replied. "I needed to see what was going on, and from the way those two are gesturing, I'd guess they'll be across the stream and over here in short order." Turning, the Marshall called out to Evans in the compound below. "Lieutenant... Get everyone into place and make sure they have enough ammo."
"On it Marshall!" the fennec called back.
Gabe looked over at Snowbird who had a pained look in her eyes. "Something wrong?"
"I do not like the idea of killing," she replied. "Most of the soldiers out there have done us no harm, nor would they, were it not for this Colonel Collier."
"I agree," the Marshall said grimly. "Unfortunately the Colonel's probably got them whipped up something fierce by now. All it takes is one bad fur to bring out the worst in others... especially when that fur's a natural leader. So unless you've got some magic up your sleeve that will take the spirit out of that troop, we're going to have to hold them here with rifles."
As they watched Collier shouted something to his men. In response the troop dropped their packs and haversacks, loaded their weapons and fixed bayonets. The stream was about ten yards wide and three feet deep. It wouldn't take them more than a minute to ford it and another couple to close the distance between it and the stockade.
Gabe brought the field glasses up to his eyes and scanned the line of furs. Some of them he recognized from town. Snowbird was right. All too many of them were good and honest folk who under other circumstances were more than happy to live and let live. The wolf silently swore that when this was over and done, Collier would answer personally for every fur that died, native or civilized.
He felt a gentle nudge on his shoulder and looked up to see Snowbird.
"Water," she said simply.
Gabe twisted slightly, then lifted the strap of his canteen over his shoulder and handed it to her. She quickly unscrewed the cap, took a short swig, then spit it out into the palm of her hand. It formed a small pool there. Reaching into her pouch, she removed a small clay flask. Holding it over her cupped hand, she broke its seal and began softly chanting as she sprinkled a blue-white powder from the flask into the water. Within seconds, it froze solid.
The Marshall watched as she stood and held the now frozen disk of water between thumb and forefinger. As she chanted, the troop began fording the stream. Her voice rose in volume until it sounded as if the chant filled the whole clearing. Some of the soldiers paused in midstream to listen.
Raising the disk to her mouth, Snowbird stopped chanting and blew on it. There was a loud crackling sound that started up stream and quickly raced passed the troop and vanished downstream. The water for a hundred yards on either side of the ford instantly froze solid. More than two-thirds the soldiers found themselves solidly embedded in ice, some knee deep and others up to their hips or waists. Curses rang out along with yelps of panic and surprise.
Several of the troopers who were still up on the far bank of the stream tried walking across the frozen surface to reach their comrades. They managed to get a few, careful steps before the upstream water flow, which had not stopped, washed across the top of the ice. It made the ice ten times slicker and knocked their feet out from under them. Several soldiers went sliding until they reached the far end of the ice flow and tumbled ingloriously into the stream.
For fifteen minutes or more the militia furs struggled to escape even as the flow of water slowly eroded and weakened the ice. It eventually became thin enough that a few sharp blows from a rifle butt were all that was needed to shatter the ice. Soldiers painfully limped back to the far shore. At Lieutenant Evans direction, the women lining the rampart began carefully snipping at the soldiers; shooting off their hats with an inhuman display of marksmanship. The message he sent was understood loud and clear by the troops as they retreated into the shelter of a nearby tree line.
Gabe looked over at Snowbird and grinned. The vixen sat next to him, resting her back against the wall of the stockade. She was breathing heavily. Each exhalation producing an icy fog that quickly disappeared in the warm air. The grin on his face faded and he reached over resting the back of his hand against the native girl's cheek ruff. Her skin and fur were ice cold.
"You okay?"
Snowbird nodded weakly. "Such magic is never easy to use," she replied, shivering as she wrapped her arms about herself; "but I will recover before they are ready to try again." Gabe was not convinced. He knew enough tribal magic to realize what she had just done was normally performed by several shamans working together. The wolf quietly slipped out of his jacket and draped it over the vixen's shoulders. She smiled up at him then rested her head against her knees.
The Marshall worked his way along the rampart until he was kneeling next to Lieutenant Evans. The Fennec was busy clearing a jammed rifle for one of the native girls.
"You know military tactics better than I do. What will Collier try next?"
Evans paused before responding. "Now that he's gotten a taste of native magic, he won't try crossing the stream here again." He pointed out a spot several hundred yards down where the stream curved sharply to the west. "The Colonel will more than likely move under cover past that bend and cross out of sight of the stockade." The Fennec's arm swept slowly to the left. "He can then use those trees to move up to the south side of that field From there, he can employ his boarding cannons."
"What's a boarding cannon?"
The Lieutenant nodded. "It's a modified light cannon used in ship to ship combat. It can be easily transported and fires a small fused grenade. They're nowhere near as powerful as field artillery, but they've got a greater range than rifles and are effective in forcing your enemy to keep his head down during an assault."
"Wonderful," the wolf muttered. "You mentioned cannons... How many does Collier have?"
"Only two. He can't batter the walls or gate down, but he can throw up a lot of shrapnel with the grenades."
"So how do we counter them?" asked Gabe.
The fennec looked over at the wolf. "That is a very good question."
There was a pause. "I somewhat hope you have an equally good answer," Gabe muttered.
Evans looked back at the Marshall and cocked a single eyebrow. "We duck!"
TO BE CONTINUED