Reaper by Lee Clinton

Author:Lee Clinton [Clinton, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Robert Hale
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

THE NEWLYWEDS

Monday 29 August – Mid Morning

The shot cracked through the air to surprise those who heard it, like lightning out of a clear blue sky. In an instant the bullet struck the tree branch just above Walt’s head with a thump. Ned, who was just behind Walt, yelled out, ‘Yeeee,’ and pulled his horse and the two packhorses back down into the creek to where William Lundy was getting ready to take his mount up the embankment.

Walt turned in the saddle and half-slid then fell to the ground as he sought safety behind the trunk of the large sawtooth oak.

‘Hold your fire,’ he yelled. ‘We’re friendly.’

The response from the nearest building of the old fort from where the first shot had been fired was a second shot.

‘I need a flag to wave,’ yelled Walt towards the creek line. ‘Bill, you got anything white on you?’

‘Don’t think so,’ came the call from back below the creek bank.

‘Then get my washbag. With my bedroll on one of the horses. My calico washbag.’

William dismounted, splashed over to the first packhorse and frantically pulled open the flap on a canvas pocket. He tried a second, then a third pocket before he found the bag. He ran up to the bank of the creek and called to Walt.

‘I’ve got it. But it’s more grey than white. I could give it a wash, in the creek. Might make it more—’

‘Just throw it here. I just need something to wave that’s kinda white. And I need it now.’

William swung the bag of toiletries above his head, then let it go. It landed in the open, some five or six paces out from the tree that Walt was now hiding behind.

‘Geezes, who taught you to throw?’ called Walt. He sucked in a deep breath, then said, ‘One, two, three,’ quickly, and rushed out and grabbed the bag. As he turned back to the safety of the tree a third shot cracked through the air. Walt scrambled, like a rabbit trying to find a hole. Once protected by the tree again, he emptied the contents of the washbag at his feet, then looked about for a stick. He saw one just behind the tree, and swiftly he tied the calico bag to the small dried branch. He poked out his improvised flag and began waving as he yelled,

‘Hold your fire. Hold your fire. We are friendly.’

There was no response but he kept waving.

At last a voice called from the building directly in front of him.

‘How many are you?’

‘Three, with five horses.’

‘Who are you?’

Walt went to say his name but stopped and called back: ‘A deputy US marshal.’

‘Where are you from?’

‘Marshal’s office at Fort Worth and assigned to the Indian Territory.’

Some muffled whoops and hollers were heard coming from the building before a call came back.

‘Come on over, Marshal.’

Walt stepped out slowly and called back towards the creek. ‘Follow after me, Ned, so that they may see who we are.’

‘I’m coming,’ called Ned.

Walt was almost up to the

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