Wilderness Partners by John Starr
An in-depth reading of old pulp stories makes you sorta realize the obvious –the roots of practically all the genre conventions are here, and no matter the field—western adventure in this case—there are hints of what popular fiction would become. Crime, suspense, hard-boiled action, the lines often blur in John Starr’s novelette for the July 1942 issue of 10 Story Western Magazine.
“Wilderness Partners” is the story of an Arizona Ranger named Larrabie on the trail of a bearded ruffian he suspects is hiding in the hills with a band of Geronimo’s Apache guerrillas. But it’s also the story of young Lieutenant Benteen, a naïve young cavalry officer with a plan of his own. Benteen hopes to pin the natives between his forces and a distant column of soldiers under Colonel Morrison –if he can locate the superior officer and inform him of his plan. At gunpoint, he enlists Larrabie as guide and tracker, a job the Ranger takes on the condition that Benteen personally accompany him across the hostile desert landscape.
As you might predict, Benteen doesn’t do well on the rigorous trek. He’s spoiled and soft, completely inexperienced at outdoor survival, and his clumsiness and complaining soon jeopardizes the mission. Naturally, Larrabie is the opposite of the lieutenant in every way; not only is he a superb tracker, he’s an expert strategist who takes command of the situation without letting Benteen know it. At the end of Chapter Two, the men have still managed to avoid the Apaches while briefly identifying Larrabie’s white quarry, aparently leading a gang of renegade native warriors.
I’ve been reading a lot of John Benteen lately, and I enjoyed the coincidence in names, especially in a story that was very much the kind of thing Benteen would publish in the Belmont Tower Fargo and Sundance titles. Quite often, in fact, the style of writing is similar to what Benteen would employ.
He looked at Larrabie curiously. The Ranger sat propped against the wall of the crevice, his flat-brimmed sombrero pulled low over his eyes, his lean brown face imperturbable. A little rivulet of sweat rolled down Larrabie’s cheek and dropped on the rocky floor. Benteen’s eyes followed it and saw the tiny wet spot disappear immediately.
“Hot, ain’t it?”
Benteen looked up and found that Larrabie was grinning at him.
“Well, General,” the Ranger continued, “you’re that one that thought this up.”
In Chapter Three, after a fairly gentle buildup, everything busts loose. Cutting back across their own trail at twilight, Larrabie and Benteen float down a black river until small rivulets of light in the thick, humid night reveal the location of an Apache camp. Larrabie spooks a passel of ponies and leads all but one away, distracting the Indians and allowing Benteen to mount a wild pinto and charge off toward Morrison’s troop camp. Nearly exhausted when he arrives, the lieutenant proves to be a better man from the entire experience. After Morrison gives the word to charge back down the trail, Benteen pleads:
“Please, Colonel, there’s a man prisoner in that camp –the man who’s responsible for my being here. If I can have fifteen minutes head start I might be able to help him.”
Morrison hesitated a second. Then: “Sorry, Benteen, you’re too valuable to me. I can’t let you risk it.”
“But sir,” Benteen said, “if they know you’re here they’ll kill him out of hand. If they don’t suspect they’re trapped they’ll probably keep him for torture.”
Taking Morrison’s ascent for granted, he staggered toward the horse of the nearest trooper. The man moved aside hesitantly and Benteen swung to the saddle. He felt the carbine in its saddle holster.
“I’ll need another carbine,” he said.
Indeed.
The final chapter begins with a harrowing return ride, the newly matured lieutenant storming the Apache camp:
Carefully, coolly, levering his carbine with the precision of long training, Benteen picked off anyone who came near the sprinting man. The Indians couldn’t face that deadly accurate shooting. By the time Larrabie had slumped, panting beside him the fire showed a deserted camp. Yet Benteen knew that from every shadow a rifle was waiting for them.
Working together, the two comrades manage to turn the Apaches back toward Benteen’s original column of troops. Just as the bugle is heard, Larrabie lines up his sites on the bearded white man responsible for the guerrilla band’s malevolence. Initially hoping to take him alive, Larrabie isn’t given a choice when the bad guy slaps leather, and so while the cavalry arrives for the final mop up, the story comes to a satisfying conclusion with no loose ends or unanswered questions.
Next: The Short Stories
on December 1, 2009 at 8:41 am
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Thanks. I enjoy your reviews of these old issues.
on December 1, 2009 at 9:14 am
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I wonder if the name Benteen is a nod to the writer!
on December 1, 2009 at 12:48 pm
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Richard, I’d love to have you on as a guest blogger on Laurie’s Wild West. Perhaps to review a WWW story? let me know.
on December 1, 2009 at 8:17 pm
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Does Lt. Benteen have a first name? Is it Fred? If so, he likely got promoted and served under a guy named Custer.
on December 1, 2009 at 9:35 pm
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David, thanks for the compliment. More soon.
Charles: As Benteen (real name, Ben Haas) wrote a couple decades after this story, I enjoyed imagining it the other way around –that the young Haas had read this story and tied the name to the prose style.
Laurie: You bet!
Dave: Good observation! just the sort of thing I love speculating about. Starr never gives Benteen a first name. I don’t know if the real Benteen was ever in AZ or not. He was in the Civil War, and engaged the Cheyenne in Kansas before being promoted beyond Lt.
One thing I noticed when I went back to the story — I wrote that Larrabie was an Arizona Ranger and this is not correct. Starr calls him The Ranger and at only one point writes that he had “trailed his man all the way from Texas.” The real proof is in the dates: the Arizona Rangers weren’t formed until 1901, but the story takes place before Geronimo’s surrender in 1886.
on December 1, 2009 at 10:32 pm
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Ah, I bet you’re right. That makes sense.