The Last Wagon Page #5

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after five days we'd be meetin' soldiers.

It's been more than five days.

Well, if they was soldiers, why

do you figure I'd keep it from you?

- To save your neck from gettin' stretched.

- What?

What Ridge means is, we know the

troops must be out looking for you.

Be only natural you didn't

want 'em to catch up with you.

We'd all understand that.

- You don't think I'd lie about it, do ya?

- No, I don't.

- Me neither.

- Nor I.

How's the sick one?

- She's been asking for you.

- How do you feel?

I heard what you said out there.

I been worse to you than

anybody, and on purpose.

Well.

I've had it since the first

day. But I hated you, and-

The key to these.

Had it all the time.

That took a powerful

lot of hate, sister.

Billy goat, you do the honors, will ya?

You know, Billy...

if my sons had lived, I like to

think they'd have been like you.

Don't you never forget to be proud.

Where you goin'?

Up on top of that rise.

If I see any Apaches, I'll let out a

yell. That means take the last chance.

Ride the horses west, hard as you can.

What about you, Mr. Todd?

Like Ridge says, I got nothin'

to escape to 'cept a rope.

Save them bullets, son.

It's me. Jenny.

You shouldn't have come up here.

Is that where they'll come from?

Yep.

What you were saying back there...

sounded like good-bye.

Billy loves you.

He's a pretty big boy to cry

himself to sleep, but tonight he did.

He's a lot more man than boy.

A coyote.

Real one, not an Apache.

How do you know?

Well, after 20 years of your

life dependin' on knowin'...

you either know, or you're dead.

I suppose Mr. Whalen's

already given us up for dead.

That the, uh, fella from Tucson?

He has a fine place of business there.

He mailed me pictures of it

when he sent for us to come.

I suppose he'd be fixin' a house for

you and Billy to live in, wouldn't he?

Of course. Don't people usually?

Why have the drums stopped?

I don't know. Fire's

still burning bright.

One good thing-we can hear' em

better, should they start out.

I wish they'd kept up with the drums.

They're still there.

Me, uh-

I, uh- I-I never could

stand bein' in a house.

Walls creak and the windows squeak...

and things rattlin' all night long.

'Taint natural.

But folks have to have houses,

a roof over their heads.

The sky can be a roof.

Like now.

But in winter-

You ever been in a wickiup? Made

of willow. Smells real sweet.

Easy to build too. Anyplace.

Wherever you wanna be.

Come spring or summer, you can up

and move on, if you've a mind to.

That's not permanent though.

Permanent as you'd want.

For years, months...

or just a night.

Three days from here,

we could take our choice-

the bend of the Powder River...

a quiet valley...

or a high place.

There's a thousand waterfalls

on the Powder, all making music.

Please-

Along about now the grass'll be

turning, makin' a singin' in the wind.

I know it must be lovely, but-

I've seen wickiups 20 feet across...

with windmills in the doorway

to catch the night breeze.

It's just not practical.

The boy would see his

first big buffalo herd.

All the little calves half grown now...

playin' like puppies.

He needs schooling.

He'd get more than

he'd ever find in books.

The lasting kind.

The meaning of the seasons...

the sun, the moon...

and friendship-

real things.

Never having a real home?

Home's wherever we'd

be. We'd make it real.

It's not what I'd planned.

I planned-

I didn't know Comanches

kissed like this.

They don't.

You haven't said it right out...

but you don't really think there

will be any tomorrows for us, do you?

You were talking of what we

might have had, weren't you?

I'm not going back to the wagon.

If it's to be our last night, I

want to spend it here with you...

discover what kind of roof

the stars might have made.

You're not afraid?

Not with you.

Not from the beginning.

While you was asleep, them

Apaches busted camp real quiet.

Went around that butte.

Then I seen why.

- What do you see?

- Soldiers.

Only a handful.

No more than six or eight against the 300

Apaches waitin' on 'em around that butte.

Can you warn them?

Yep.

But that'll draw them to you.

Soldiers!

- Don't nobody tell 'em where he is.

- They're coming down now.

- And Jenny's with him.

- They'll hang Mr. Todd.

Ain't you kinda young to

be runnin' around loose?

We're the daughters of

Colonel William Normand.

Our train was massacred.

We're all that's left.

Did a renegade murderer named Comanche

Todd run across your path back there?

This is my father, Mr. Putnam.

You Mrs. Putnam?

- Are you the one that signaled us?

- Yeah.

- It's a good Injun trick, you signaling

us that way. - Indians taught it to me.

They'll be teaching you something too if

you don't get this party to your main body.

Few hundred Apaches waitin' on ya.

- Where?

- Around the south butte.

There ain't no main body, Mr. Putnam.

We been scoutin' ahead for an

ammunition and supply wagon escort...

about a mile back.

- Only got eight more like us.

Just two wagons. - Eight more?

Well, maybe we were

better off without ya.

- Think you can stay on a horse?

- I'll help her.

All right, get the horses. Let's

start movin', fast and light.

We'll have to leave the wagon.

- Where'd you pick up them Injun ponies?

- Back a ways.

Are they Comanche or Apache?

Never find Comanches this far west.

You oughta know that, Sergeant.

Thanks.

How long you been fightin' Apaches?

Six months.

How about you?

Twenty years.

I bow to experience. What do you advise?

Apaches ain't any showoffs in battle.

They'd like you to head for

them woods around that butte.

They don't like fightin' in

the open unless they have to.

We won't fight 'em their

way. We'll fight 'em our way.

Fight? Sixteen against 300?

Don't you think we'd better

make a run for it, Mr. Putnam?

- Run?

- Yeah.

Which way?

Circle wagons!

Forward! Yo!

They're filtering down

into the trees now.

Our people will be exposed to

their fire when we start the escape.

Yeah, them Apaches are gonna

be too busy runnin' to care.

Hope it goes right.

With your savvy of Indians,

you ought to be in uniform.

Or maybe hanged.

I didn't figure you for

a farmer from the first.

You're Comanche Todd.

What you aimin' to do about it?

We get out of this alive,

I'll have to take you in.

Seems reasonable.

If we get out.

Better get your people mounted.

All right, men, fall back.

Pass the word. Mount up.

I'll take care of things here.

I'm sorry I saw that star.

Me too.

- Now!

- At a gallop! Forward ho!

The prisoner will please rise.

Whether I like it or not, I am at

present the law in this hostile country.

My name is Howard. I've been

known as Bible-reading Howard.

But don't hold that against me. It's just

that I rely on the good book for guidance.

Since you're here accused

of killing four men...

it is apparent you do not.

Four brothers. Harpers, all of them.

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