Now Playing:Ultimatum
Episode Eleven concluded with:
Sahale mounted
his horse and began to drink from the jug. He nodded toward two of the other
braves. A spark suddenly glowed in the hand of one of those two braves.
Dehner laughed inwardly. “Talk about white man’s ways,” he whispered to
himself. “Those guys are using match sticks.”
The detective’s amusement was short lived. The brave next to the one with the
lighted match was preparing his weaponry. He was going to send a flaming arrow
into the cabin.
Episode Twelve
Dehner
stood up and shouted. “All of you are under arrest. Throw down your weapons and
put your hands up!”
A brave immediately beside Sahale
lifted his rifle. Dehner’s first shot knocked him off his horse; the man yelled
in pain as he hit the ground. Sahale threw away his jug and slid off his
horse. He grabbed the Henry from his
fallen comrade. Sahale’s first shot missed. Dehner returned fire and also
missed.
Sahale ran toward the cabin, motioning
for the other braves to join him. The cabin would provide shelter and hostages.
Rance levered the Winchester and was ready when one of the braves fired in his
direction. Dehner aimed carefully and brought the shooter down.
Reverend Nate provided the shot that
ended the gunfight. He hit Sahale, who tumbled to the ground before reaching
the porch of the cabin. With three of their companions now down, the remaining
two Braves stopped and raised their hands.
Dehner shouted to the two Indians to
remain still, then quickly looked all around the hillside. “I’m going down
first, I want the rest of you men to cover me.”
As he moved down the hill, Dehner
spotted Reverend Nate. He couldn’t be sure but he thought the pastor was
stifling a laugh.
***
Sahale was dead. The two Indians
Dehner had shot were wounded but they could ride. Rance and the pastor had tied
the hands of the two others behind their backs. Dehner and Reverend Nate knew
they needed to return to Hardin, but there was business that required immediate
attention. Both men kept an eye on the four Indians, who were sitting in front
of the cabin. The detective and the clergyman were standing on the large porch
of the cabin they had just saved from being burned down.
Standing beside them were Ferlin and
Irma Barstow. Ferlin was tall but stoop shouldered with only a modest
scattering of teeth in his mouth. Gray had overwhelmed most of his once black
hair and his forehead seemed to be growing upward. Irma was a bit shorter than
her husband with gray hair, a long neck and a flat, broad face.
The shooting that had just taken
place made both Barstows mildly irritated, as if clouds were threatening a
picnic. Ferlin’s voice sounded pious as he talked to Rance and Nate. “Ya can
ask the marshall. He tole me it was okay ta sell tanglefoot as long as I don’t
git too big for my britches. Been sellin’ here for ten years or more and none
of it never killed no one.”
“That is encouraging,” Reverend Nate
said.
“Ferlin never took to farmin’,” Irma
added.
“Pap tole me farmin’ was the best
way to go,” Ferlin sounded as if he were still angry with his father for giving
bad advice. “He said a farmer is workin’ for the good Lord. Well, I’ll tell ya,
the good Lord ain’t always such a good boss. You plant and sometimes the stuff
grows and sometimes it don’t. Ya got no problems like that with makin’
tanglefoot. It comes out good all the time.”
“That does raise some significant
theological issues,” Reverend Nate seemed to be enjoying himself.
Dehner needed to move the
conversation onto a more pragmatic track. “Do you ever sell moonshine to the
Indians?”
Monday: Episode Thirteen of Ultimatum
