CHAPTER 13
I've somehow managed to get two chapters up this weekend now. It's amazing what you can accomplish when you simply replace sleep with coffee. I won't give too much away about this chapter, except to say that it contains some things many of you have probably been expecting. Enjoy everypony, and please review.
Come early fall, we ran another patrol to Rawhide, with the added purpose of reconnoitering the surrounding area for any more signs of the Buffalo's movements or whereabouts. I was certain at this point that the natives were up to something, and it couldn't bode well. At least for me, all evidence so far screamed that the tribes were plotting an all-out war, and the presence of armed parties of warriors scouting out Rawhide, our fort, and even a mile from Dodge Junction itself was troubling. They were gauging our strengths and our defenses, and I knew that it was only a matter of time before something bad happened.
Twice a month now, we ran the patrols. That was our schedule. If Buffalo were spotted near the settlement we were charged with protecting, we immediately set out for the village with the closest thing to a full-strength squad we could muster. When we left the fort expecting a battle now, we only left four troopers behind. Usually our stay behind force consisted of Lance Corporal Timber, Private Fodder Shock, Our cook, Chuck Wagon, and Our Blacksmith, Red Ingot, both privates. The two privates usually relegated to special duties were armed and posted on the wall with the two regular troopers. Grifter Green the sutler was also ordered inside the fort when we'd leave, and took to arming himself with a small pistol-crossbow.
On one such patrol, just before the weather began to cool, we set out for Rawhide at dawn. We took a roundabout route, and arrived as usual just before sunset. We were met this time by Turner Plow, who had seen us coming, and rushed out to meet us. Seeing the unofficial town mayor hurrying toward us, we immediately felt something was wrong. I halted the squad with an upraised sabre, and pointed the blade first to the left and then to the right, a silent order to fan out into a defensive posture. I trotted quickly to Turner, Sgt. Hardtack and Spring Shower on either side of me.
"What's the problem?" I asked, getting to the point. "Everypony here okay?"
"Yes lieutenant, we're all alright here." He answered. "The Buffalo...there were a dozen of them, sir. They were up on that hill again like before."
"When?" I interrupted.
"Three days ago." He replied. "They were up there for half an hour, just standin' there. Then, they just up and left. Then yesterday, right in the middle of the day, they came right by the town."
"Where?" I pressed, looking around. He pointed.
"No more than two hundred yards from the edge of Rawhide. They came from those mountains there, and just walked right on by us. Scared us half to death, lieutenant. We thought we were all gonna get wiped out. I've never seen so many buffalo at once."
"What do you mean?" I asked. "How many?"
"A bunch, lieutenant. A couple dozen, I think. They all wore red headbands."
"They came from the southwest? You're sure?" I questioned. I glanced at Sgt. Hardtack, who had a stern look on his face.
"Firehoof tribe." He stated.
"I'm sure, sir." Turner nodded. "They headed east, then turned to the southeast just past the hill."
"Private Fleethoof!" I called. The messenger came running up.
"Sir?"
"I know you've had a hell of a walk, trooper...but I need you to gallop like mad back to the fort, and tell Lance Corporal Timber that there is a war party of Buffalo on the move in our vicinity, numbering
about fifty, maybe more. My orders are to be on high alert until the squad gets back. You understand?"
"Yes sir!" He replied, saluting.
"Stay there, and help with security. We'll be back tomorrow evening. Go trooper."
"You can count on me, sir!" He exclaimed, and galloped off to the south. We stayed in the storehouse, with two guard on watch at all times through the night. It was now apparent that the hostile tribes had joined forces. The Firehoof tribe had probably sent all of its best warriors to join the Southern band as they prepared for the all-out war I knew was coming. Come dawn, we accoutered up and began heading back to Fort Mesquite. I advised the residents to send a runner to the fort as soon as they saw a single Buffalo near the settlement.
We had traveled half the distance between Rawhide and Fort Mesquite when we came to a pass between two rocky hills. We proceeded with caution, each of us feeling nervous in the face of what we'd just learned, and expecting attack at any moment. We didn't have long to wait. As we made our way through the shallow valley, a small boulder rolled from atop the hill to our right. Corporal Oak Leaf and Private Apple Dumplin' jumped out of the way as it slammed into the ground where they had just been walking. Another boulder bounded down the hill to our left, headed right for the troopers at
the rear of our line. The troopers again rushed out of its way, and it plowed into the opposite wall.
"Advance at the double quick!" I commanded. We began to jog briskly toward the end of the pass as more rocks were pushed down at us. A large boulder crashed down in front of us, halting our line long enough for the attackers above us to send two more down. The first bounced, and hit Private Picket before slamming into the hillside. He was down, injured bad, and I immediately picked up the company guidon as Slate and Mesa Verde helped him up. The second boulder rolled from our right, and poor Private Copper Nail was hit full-force by the huge rock. One look, and I could see that he was dead. Suddenly, four Buffalo descended down on us from each side of the heights. We immediately drew ourselves into a tight defensive formation and the battle was on. The first Buffalo to reach me was a large warrior with a red headband. He charged directly at me, but I sidestepped his attack, and he plowed into the boulder behind me. At the same moment, I spun about, slicing his throat with my sabre. I watched a Buffalo with a blue headband attack Hardtack and Slate, but they double-teamed the native, and brought him down. Sgt. Whetstone was bucked by a Buffalo, and knocked off of his hooves.
Private Picket was injured, but not fully out of the game. As a Buffalo warrior charged Picket, Verde and Slate, Picket seized the lance I had bought him, and jammed the back end into the rocky ground. The Buffalo couldn't stop his charge in time, and ran himself upon the spear. Private Apple Dumplin distracted a Buffalo long enough for Corporal Plug Nickel to leap onto the warrior's back and plunge his sabre into the Buffalo. At the same time, Mesa Verde charged the warrior, jumped onto his side, and stabbed both of his bowie knives into the hide of the horned attacker. The next thing I knew, I felt myself being lifted into the air. One of the remaining Buffalo had tossed me with his horns, and I dropped my sabre. I managed to turn about mid-air, and try to land on my hooves. On impact, my right rear ankle sent a jolt of stabbing pain up through my leg, and I knew I had sprained it. The Buffalo charged me, and unarmed and injured, I felt fear grip me. I was staring down a much larger, stronger opponent who had every intention of killing me, and according to the ancient code of combat, every right to do so.
"RUN DRAKE!" A voice cried out. Spring Shower came out of nowhere, and in a flash had buried her bowie knife into the Buffalo's side. The native roared and threw his head around, hooking his massive horn on Spring's vest. She let out a scream as the Buffalo tossed her like a rag doll across the valley. He moved in to finish her off, and I was shaken from my shock. I grabbed a sabre dropped by some trooper during the melee, and charged the Buffalo, my back leg practically screaming in pain. The Buffalo lowered his horns at Spring, and she backed against a boulder and whimpered, seeing the end coming at the tip of her much larger enemy's horns. Just before he could deliver his death-blow, I hopped between him and Spring, and brought the sabre down into his head. No artistic arc of the blade, no trained parry delivered on my enemy. I struck like chopping wood, and buried the blade into his skull, nearly splitting his head in half. My overpowered strike was too much for the weapon, and the blade snapped off, right at the handguard. The Buffalo fell, the steel blade still lodged in his skull.
I reached down and took Spring's hoof, helping her up. She gave me a curious glance through heavy-lidded eyes and smiled.
"Huzzah!" Corporal Plug Nickel cheered. I turned to see that out of the eight attackers, seven were killed. The eighth had retreated, probably to go tell his compatriots that the cavalry wasn't that easy to beat. No matter. They would just return later in larger numbers. I looked around the pass. We had one killed. Picket, Oak Leaf, Whetstone and myself were injured. Sgt. Hardtack walked up to me, wiping the blood off of his sabre with an oily rag, ignoring the red splotches on his face and uniform jacket. Good old soldier...the weapon always comes first...
"You alive, lieutenant?" He asked in his gravelly tone.
"Think so." I returned glumly. "Private Nail?"
"Dead, sir." Hardtack answered.
"Any seriously hurt sergeant?" I further implored.
"Sergeant Whetstone's down, broken ribs most likely. Same with Private Picket. Corporal Oak Leaf's got a busted leg. Can I ask about you, sir?"
"Oh, this?" I asked nonchalantly, looking back at my hurt leg. "Just a minor sprain of the ankle, sergeant. I'll be alright." I had to think of something. Half of my NCOs were down, and I'd lost a third of my number to killed and injured. "Alright, I want every uninjured trooper to pair up and help the wounded back to the fort. We gotta get home, sergeant."
"And um...Private Nail, sir?" Hardtack reminded me. I sighed.
"Have the troopers make a sled. Nopony's getting left behind." I said grimly.
"I'll see to it, lieutenant." He nodded, and walked away. I let out a small whimper and sat down. I just had to get off of my leg for a minute.
We limped back to Fort Mesquite like beaten dogs. We had won the battle, but at what cost? True, we had only lost one trooper to their seven warriors, but this fact didn't make me feel any better. It was a war of attrition, and we were just nineteen strong now, twenty if you counted Grifter. There was a sea of Buffalo out there, and I knew in my bones that if we didn't get reinforcements soon, we'd be whittled away to nothing eventually. A lost command. I shuddered, and tried to force these thoughts from my mind as we trudged into our fort, the two troopers manning the front wall closing the tall wooden gates behind us. Lance Corporal Timber scrambled down the ladder and quickly trotted up to me.
"Lieutenant...sir, what happened?!" He exclaimed.
"It was the Buffalo, corporal." I sighed. "We were attacked in that pass out by redtop mesa. It was a mess." I looked around. "Where's Private Fleethoof? I need to send a message to Fort Defiance." Timber looked around himself.
"I thought he went with you, sir..."
"He didn't come back?!" I half-shouted.
"No, lieutenant..." This was bad. Fleethoof was missing. There was no way he could have gotten lost. He should have been here before this morning. There was only one logical possibility.
"Sergeant Hardtack?!" I called. Hardtack was helping Private Picket into the building we had turned into an infirmary. Slate took over, and the sergeant trotted over quickly.
"Lieutenant?"
"Private Fleethoof is missing. I believe him to be...captured, sergeant." Timber stood there nervously at the thought of one of us being taken by the enemy. Sergeant Hardtack sighed.
"Damn it." He growled, and kicked a pebble.
"What do we do, sir?" Timber asked.
"We...we mount a search party, sergeant?" I asked, my voice sounding like anything but someone in command. He looked me in the eyes a moment, then heaved another frustrated sigh.
"No point, lieutenant...we'd never track them. I dunno what they're gonna...I mean...dammit."
"I...I understand." I said sadly. "We have to look to our wounded." I put too much weight on my right hind leg and winced.
"Yes, we do." He returned gravely. He pointed to my leg. "Lieutenant, go wrap that ankle. You'll not do any of us any good if you can't walk. If anyone's gotta have sense around here, it should be the officers."
"You're probably right..." I muttered. "Carry on sergeant. Corporal." I walked to my quarters, and found a roll of gauze in the supply chest. I sat on my bed, thinking about the battle as I wrapped my ankle. Scenes of the fight flashed through my mind. The boulders rolling down on us. The Buffalo charging. Spring Shower saving me. The images wouldn't stop. The sounds, the smells...the blood. I shook my head, and forced myself away from these thoughts, and finished binding my sprained ankle. I stood, keeping my weight on my other three good legs. This would be miserable until it healed.
At the edge of dark, I limped to the infirmary to check on my wounded troopers. Sgt. Whetstone and Private Picket were laying glumly in beds, white linen bandages wrapped around their bodies. They seemed fine, just angry that they were laid up and couldn't do anypony any good at the moment. Corporal Oak Leaf had his leg reset and splinted, and was sleeping, a result of the laudanum and whiskey that had been administered as an anesthesia. I gave the two conscious soldiers a few supportive words, and left the makeshift hospital. I walked to the open front gates, and passed out of the fort. A short distance away, I watched the burial detail covering a grave on a small rise near the fort. I reminded myself again mentally to have Copper Nail made a corporal posthumously. It was the only thing I could do. I turned back into the fort, and slowly made my way to the barracks. Arriving at the last door, I knocked lightly.
"Yeah?" The female voice on the other side replied in an uncaring tone.
"Spring? It's Lieutenant Drake."
"Come in." She said flatly. I opened her door and walked into her room. As soon as I had closed the door behind me, I was knocked to the floor. I found my forelegs pinned down as I stared up into the lusty face of Spring.
"Spring...what are you doing?" I shot in a low voice. She responded by leaning down and kissing me on the lips, letting her tongue play inside my mouth as I lie there in shock. She raised up, still restraining me.
"Tell me you want this, Drake." She growled. "I never had anypony save me like that...mm!" She kissed me again, and I began to struggle against her grip. "Oh...you killed for me..."
"Spring!" I commanded in a low voice. "Stop!"
"You're the most amazin' stallion I ever seen..." She argued. "Be with me, Drake."
"No..." I returned. "Spring, you have to stop." She pressed herself into me.
"I could do things to you that you could never dream of." She offered. She leaned in and bit my right ear. "Drake..." She hissed seductively.
"Stop!" I ordered, rolling her off of me. I got to my hooves, and Spring Shower sat up, staring at me with a hurt look. "What are you doing?" I demanded.
"You saved me, Drake. That Buffalo was about to kill me, then you split his head in two...you killed for me...that was the..."
"The what?!" I pressed, becoming angry at the filly who had just tried to have her way with me.
"It was brave and...the sexiest thing I ever saw. You're my hero...and..." She sighed and stood up. She simply stared at the wall a moment, facing away from me, then suddenly, she bucked one of her chairs against the wall. She turned back to me, looking angry and hurt.
"I want you so bad, Drake! And I want you to want me! Is that such a damn problem?! You gonna stand there and try to play like you ain't got any feelings at all? I almost died saving you from that Buffalo...and I wanted to! Don't you get that?"
"Yeah, I get that." I growled back. "You keep trying to die. You have a damned deathwish, Spring. I've known that for a long time. I wish you didn't, cause I don't wanna see you die. You're my friend, Spring." She huffed. "If you liked me, you could have told me or something. I doubt anything would have come of it anyway, but why the hell didn't you just come out and say it? Why do you have to go section eight?! Why do you have to be so psychotic with everything, Spring?! A normal filly asks a guy out for a picnic, they don't try to rape their superior officers, Spring!"
"I practically threw myself at you for ever now." She stated angrily.
"I'm not looking for any kind of relationship, alright?" I said coldly. "With anypony. That's just who I am. And I'm not sleeping with you." I said. "You're my friend, you're my coworker, and you just turned eighteen. You see the problem?!"
"Yes." She sighed.
"Please, Spring...I'm begging you as your friend...I'm ordering you as your C.O., and I'm asking you as a decent pony...get your head screwed on. Please. You're going to pop off one of these days, and get yourself killed. And if the thought of that doesn't bother you, think of this: you may get somepony else killed. Maybe me. Would you like that?"
"No!" She squeaked.
"Well please just...I dunno." I was at a loss for words now.
"Drake..." Spring whispered. "Tell me you love me."
"I DO love you, Spring." I replied. "You're the closest thing to a best friend I've ever had, and the closest thing to family I have." I let out a sigh. "I just don't love you like that." I walked to the door. "My leg's killing me now, thank you. I need to go lay down. You sort your shit out, come talk to me, okay?" With that, I walked out of her room. I had such a mixed bag of emotions after the last couple of days, that I didn't even know what was what anymore. All I knew is that seeing Slate, Apple Dumplin and Plug Nickel staring at me with their mouths open didn't help things much.
"Forget...everything you heard!" I exclaimed. "Just...strike that all from the record!"
"Um...yes...sir..." Corporal Nickel replied, not used to seeing me angry. I walked into my quarters and slammed the door.
And so the story gets a little darker. Well if you wanted sunshine and lollipops, you shouldn't have read a war drama. Now we know that the Buffalo are becoming more hostile, that a war may be coming. But when? Drake is completely on edge now. And what about the scene between Drake and Spring Shower? That was interesting, wasn't it? Now those of you who had been asking about the possibility of a Drake/Spring pairing have your answer. Drake's just not a romantic kind of guy. Maybe something could have happened eventually if Spring Shower hadn't been so...physical. I hate writing scenes like this, but this time, I think it actually showed how dark Spring really is, even when she's in love. I look forward to the reviews and PM's I'm gonna get after this chapter. Heh...I'm half-expecting lovelorn hate-mail at this point.
I will try to get the next chapter up Monday. My car is being a ford, and I gotta try to fix it before it conks out on me, and I'm still having Drake and Budder time. I hope these two chapters tide ya'll over for a day or two. So until the next chapter, thanks for reading, everypony!