Jory Sherman: Blood Sky at Morning

To Whom It May Concern:

Colonel Zak Cody is hereby detached from the U.S. Army, insofar as his military duties are concerned. He is hereby attached to my office and is under my direct command and the command of General George Crook. He is to be given every courtesy by the U.S. Military. His connection to the President and to General Crook are considered Top Secret and shall not be revealed to any civilian or military personnel who do not need to know his rank and special assignments. Any breach of confidence regarding Colonel Cody shall be dealt with severely, and any military person who divulges the content of this letter will be subject to court-martial.

The letterhead bore the seal of the President of the United States and was signed by Ulysses S. Grant.

Willoughby walked around his desk and handed the wallet to Zak.

“I understand, sir. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right, Major. You didn’t know. Now you do.”

“There are stories about you, you know.”

“I know. I ignore them. You should do the same.”

“Yes, sir,” Willoughby said.

Jeffords returned with a glass of water and a pitcher. He set the pitcher on the desk and handed Zak the water. Together, he and Zak propped Colleen up in the chair. Zak held the glass to her lips and poured a small amount into her mouth.

She swallowed and her eyelids batted twice. She choked on a few drops, spluttered and opened her eyes wide. Sitting up straight, she reached out for Zak. It was a reflexive motion, much like a drowning person deploys toward a rescuer. Her fingers squeezed Zak’s arms as she gulped in air.

“I—I’m sorry,” she said. “I—I must have fainted.”

She saw Jeffords kneeling there before her and her gaze locked on his.

“My brother. Ted. You said…”

“He’s missing, Miss O’Hara. I’m sorry. I just found out this morning. I came here to report this to Major Willoughby.”

“How? Why?”

Jeffords stood up and stepped aside. He gestured to Willoughby, who cleared his throat and walked over to stand in front of her.

“Ted rode out with a patrol early yesterday morning,” Willoughby said. “We had reason to believe some Apaches were banding together on the San Simon. The patrol encountered no hostiles, but last night, apparently, your brother turned up missing. Tom ran into the patrol early this morning. They were tracking a small band of Apaches.”

“They think Ted was grabbed during the night,” Jeffords said. “We don’t know why. They took his horse, too, so we know he’s still alive.”

“The patrol is still out?” Zak asked.

Willoughby nodded.

“They must find him,” Colleen said. “Do you think they will, Mr. Jeffords?”

“There’s a chance,” he said.

Colleen opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it.

Just then a young lieutenant knocked on the door.

“Enter,” Willoughby said.

“Sir, you’d better take a look at what we’ve got out there. It’s pretty grim.”

“All right, Neighbors. I’ll be right there.”

“It’s in front of the livery, sir.”

The young man saluted and left the room.

“Can I stay in Ted’s quarters?” Colleen asked.

“No, it’s not private,” Willoughby said. “We have a billet for you, though.”

“I’d at least like to see Ted’s room. And my carpetbag’s still inside the coach. My suitcase is on top.”

“We’ll see that you’re accommodated, Miss O’Hara. Just let me sort all this out.”

“You’re right. You have more important things to worry about right now. I’ll go with you and get my things.”

“I’ll see to it that you’re shown to your quarters and someone carries your luggage for you.” Willoughby swept past her. Jeffords followed. Zak took her arm and led her outside.

A crowd had gathered in front of the livery. All four coach doors stood wide open. Zak was surprised to see several white women in the crowd. The women all turned to look at Colleen, and some of them smiled at her.

Willoughby and Jeffords looked inside the coach. When the major finished his inspection, his complexion had turned ashen. He looked as if he had been kicked in the stomach. Jeffords took longer. When he turned around, he looked at Zak, shook his head.

“You might want to introduce yourself to the women, Colleen,” Zak said. “I’ll get your carpetbag and suitcase for you.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Zak walked over to Jeffords.

“Those men weren’t scalped by Apaches,” Tom said.

“No. I didn’t figure such.”

“Let’s have a talk, Cody. I know you’ve got business with Major Willoughby you haven’t even mentioned yet, but I want to fill you in on some things.”

The two men walked over to the stables, stepped inside where it was cool. Willoughby was issuing orders to the post surgeon and assigning men to burial detail. It was plain to Zak that Willoughby was rattled by what he had seen. Obviously, there was a reason he’d been left in charge of the post. He was probably good at organization, but did not handle himself well under fire. It was something Zak noted when dealing with people, and it often gave him an advantage over men he did not personally know well.

Nox was tied up at the far end of the stables, his bridle replaced by a rope halter. He chomped on corn and oats set before him in a small trough. Other horses stood looking out of stalls, or rubbed up against the walls and posts. There was the sound of switching tails and low whickers as others fed or drank. Flies buzzed in an insistent monotonous drone. The smell of urine and manure, thick and pungent, mixed with the musty scent of straw.

Jeffords slid his hat toward the back of his head, cocking the brim up to show his face, the salt and pepper sideburns. He was a lean, wiry man, with weathered lines in his face, clear blue eyes set wide on either side of his chiseled nose.

“Cody, I’ll be straight with you. I’m probably the only one on this post who will. There’s a whole lot of war going on in this part of Arizona, and it’s not just with the Apaches.”

“What are you driving at, Jeffords?”

“That business with the coach, for one. Those soldiers weren’t scalped by any Apache.”

“I figured that.”

“The whites around here want the Apaches wiped out, shipped out, buried, gone. I think this latest incident proves that the situation is coming to a head.”

“The army know this?”

“It does and it doesn’t. The army is dealing with some marauding Apaches. But the Apaches are being goaded, too, by whites who want the army chasing them clear out of the territory. I’m trying to make peace, but right now it looks pretty hopeless. The Apaches don’t know one white man from another, and right now they think the whole world is against them.”

“You have a line on who attacked the coach?” Zak asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine, but the owner of the line, Ferguson, is in this up to his armpits. And the word is that he and other businessmen have hired some outside help.”

The hackles bristled on the back of Cody’s neck.

“Outside help? Maybe from Taos?”

Jeffords’s eyebrows arched. His eyes widened in surprise.

“There was some talk about Ferguson bringing in a gang of hired guns from Taos. I was trying to get a line on that news when I got word about Ted O’Hara being sent out on patrol. By that damned Willoughby. That was against my recommendation and directly against Captain Bernard’s specific orders.”

“Bernard. Reuben Bernard? Isn’t he the commanding officer of Fort Bowie?”

“Yeah, he is. Then some idiot sent Major Willoughby down here and put him in charge. Reuben is putting out fires all over the territory, chasing Apaches with a vengeance, attacking their villages, burning their homes. It’s an ugly situation. I can’t prove it, but someone leaked information about Ted O’Hara, who never should have left this post with a damned patrol.”