“You know that some merchants from Dodge City have built a settlement on the Canadian,” Lee said. “Their intention is to provide a trading post for buffalo skins. I trust that with this gift, the Quahadi robes will only be traded to Lee and Reynolds.”
“Yes, sir,” Quanah said as he saluted, just as he had seen the soldiers do.
“No, no, Quanah. You don’t have to do that. I am not a bluecoat. I am your friend.”
Dodge City:
“I had no idea Bat could write like that,” Jacob Harrison said as he put aside a copy of The Messenger. He and Cade were entering the Red House Salon.
“I don’t know why you should be so surprised,” Cade said. “He’s always scribbling something in that notebook of his.”
“Something he won’t let anyone read,” Jacob said.
“Yeah, and the words he uses,” Jeter said as he joined the conversation. “Half the time I don’t even know what the words mean.” He smiled. “But I sure like hearing them. How many copies of the paper are you taking down to Adobe Walls?”
“I’ve got at least two dozen all packed in a gutta-percha bag,” Cade said. “That way if we have trouble getting across the river someplace, they’ll stay dry.”
Jeter’s expression changed to a more serious nature. “When will you be moving out?”
“James Langton is ready to go now, but you know Charles Rath. He keeps finding more and more stuff to take down, but he doesn’t want to hire another wagon,” Jacob said, “so he keeps piling the extra stuff onto the wagons he already has hired.”
“James Langton? Aren’t Rath and Wright going?” Jeter asked.
“No. It will be up to James to build the new store,” Jacob said.
“Cade, is there any way you could stay behind? Send another driver in your stead?”
“This is a big shipment,” Cade said. “Every wagon we have will be on this run. Why do you ask?”
“It’s the boy. I don’t know.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Mom. She can’t get past the fact that Stone’s an Indian. She thinks I should be more upset than I am that he’s in our house,” Jeter said. “She reminded me that it was Pa who found me hidden under the floor of our cabin back in Texas. She thinks I should remember that it was Indians who killed my real ma and pa.”
“How old were you?” Jacob asked.
“About Stone’s age and I hate to admit it, but except for the name Willis, I can’t remember anything about my life before Titus and Mary Hatley took me in.”
“I hope that’s how it is with Stone, especially what he had to go through at the whiskey camp,” Cade said. “I want to come by before we leave and take him down to Dugan’s Clothing and get him some new clothes. Do you think Max carries kid’s clothes?”
“I don’t know,” Jeter said. “We don’t buy clothes for the girls, ‘cause Mom sews for ‘em.”
“At least I need to find someplace where I can buy him some boots.”
“And get him a haircut. Magnolia tried to cut his hair and he ran from her.”
On the Canadian River:
Quanah Parker, Black Horse, Wolf Tongue, Old Owl and Silver Knife had been away from camp for several days. Thirty-six horses had been stolen and they had followed the trail as far as they could before a rainstorm washed away the tracks.
“We should go back,” Black Horse said. “Our horses are in Kansas by now.”
“Maybe not,” Quanah said. “The trader told us the Dodge City merchants are building a trading post on the Canadian. Perhaps we should see if that is true.”
“Do you think our horses are there?” Black Horse asked.
“I did not say that,” Quanah said. “I want to find this trading post. I want to see for myself what the white men are doing.”
“Very well,” Black Horse said, “but I am going back to our encampment.”
“Who will go with me to find this camp?” Quanah asked.
“I will go,” Silver Knife said, “and I will kill this white man, just as Mean To His Horses did.”
Quanah and Silver Knife continued for another day until they reached the Canadian where W.M.D. Lee had said the merchants were putting their trading post. It was not hard to pick up the trail, even after the rain, because the ruts of many heavily loaded wagons were visible. The signs of horses, mules, and oxen were so numerous that Quanah realized there were even more white interlopers than he had expected.
The terrain was such that Quanah and Silver Knife found it easy to stay out of sight from anyone who might be on the main trail. They continued following along one of the creeks until they heard the loud banging of hammering as well as the ripping sound of sawing, which was ample evidence of the nearness of the white men.
As they got closer the sounds grew louder and louder. Quanah and Silver Knife dismounted, tied off their horses, and climbed up to a level bench near the summit of a butte, not a mile away from the activity.
From this vantage point Quanah looked down to see more white men than there were fingers on both of his hands, and Silver Knife’s hands combined. They were hammering, sawing, and scurrying about, all engaged in some frenzied activity.
It was even worse that Quanah thought. This wasn’t a hunters’ encampment, this was a white man’s town!
It appeared that the men were cutting down trees, and even digging up long strips of sod from the ground itself. At first, the reason for digging up the sod was unknown to Quanah, but when they were cut into blocks then stacked up, their purpose became clear. They were being used to construct walls.
“Silver Knife,” Quanah said. “We cannot let this continue. We cannot let the white man move into our country to make towns for themselves, steal our buffalo, and destroy our land.”
“But how can we stop them?” Silver Knife asked. “There are only two of us, and there are many of them.”
“We will come back to this spot,” Quanah said. “But we will not come alone. The buffalo belong to the People, but they also belong to the Kiowa, the Cheyenne and the Arapaho. We will fight together.”
Silver Knife shook his head. “You are saying that the Comanche will fight beside his old enemy—I do not think so.”
“You tell me. Who is worse, our brothers or the white man?”
Dodge City:
Cade was having breakfast with Jeter and Magnolia. He was anxious to observe how Stone was getting along with the girls.
“It’s not going to be easy,” Jeter said. “Last night, he slept under the table. No matter how much we tried he wouldn’t come out.”
“Do you think he can adjust?” Cade asked.
“He will,” Magnolia said. “Stone just has to learn to trust us.”
“Humph,” Mary said. “It’s us that have to learn to trust that little . . .”
“Now, Mom,” Jeter interrupted. “He’s a four-year-old boy, and his life has been a lot different from Bella’s and Chantal’s. They’ll show him how to act.”
“You may not want to say it, but I will. That boy’s an Indian and we’ll all be sorry when he grows up and scalps one of us.”
“Grandmere, please,” Magnolia said. “We can’t have talk like that.”
“Well, it’s true,” Mary said as she began taking dishes off the table.
“I guess we’re through, here,” Jeter said as he smiled at Cade.
“It’ll be better when he has new clothes,” Magnolia said. “He seems to be a sweet boy.”
“That’s what I came for,” Cade said. “I want to go get him some new things.”
“Nonsense,” Magnolia said. “I’ll take him.”
“I at least want to pay for them,” Cade said. “After all, he is my kid.”
Jeter laughed. “You need to find a good woman, and settle down. Come on. I’ve got to get to work.”
A short while later, Magnolia and Stone left the house to walk the two blocks to Max Dugan’s Clothing store to see what she could find for him. She was aware that heads were tur
ning as townspeople noticed that she was holding the hand of a child dressed as an Indian. Mary had wanted to put a dress on Stone, but Magnolia resisted. Now, because of all the staring, she thought that perhaps Mary was right.
“Tell me, Miz Willis, just what is it that you’re a’ doin’ with that no count Injun?”
The question came from a gruff looking man who was sitting on a barrel on the front porch of Peacock’s Saloon.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. I seen you with two pretty little white girls. It don’t seem right to have a filthy Injun that close to ‘em.” The man rose from the barrel and approached Magnolia.
“He’s not dirty,” Magnolia said as she pulled Stone toward the clothing store.
“Ha. You could use all the soap in Kansas on that one, ‘n he’ll still be dirty. There ain’t no way you can get the stink off ‘n of a Injun.”
“That’s enough, Jordan,” Max Dugan said, coming out of his store. “If you’re going to harass my customers, you’re going to have to move on.”
“Don’t worry,” Jordan said, stepping back from Magnolia. “Iffen this little heathen is goin’ to be here, I got no wish to be anywhere’s close.”
Dugan stayed out on the front porch until the unpleasant man was gone.
“I’ll have to apologize for that. Kirk Jordan is a man that has no understanding of manners.”
“I remember Mr. Jordan well,” Magnolia said. “He’s the one who wanted to kill Spotted Wolf when poor Spotted Wolf was already near-dead.”
“Yes, Jordan raised a posse of Indian haters as I recall, all of them vying for the opportunity to be the one to kill him. But somehow, Spotted Wolf managed to just disappear.”
“Yes, didn’t he?”
“You know, Mrs. Willis, I’ve always suspected that you and your husband, and probably Cade McCall as well, may have had something to do with Spotted Wolf getting away from that lynch mob. And make no mistake, that was a lynch mob.”
“Do you really think that?”
“I do,” Dugan said, then a broad smile spread across his face. “And let me tell you something else, I couldn’t be happier that Spotted Wolf got away. Now, let me help you find whatever it is you’ve come to buy.”
“Clothes for the boy,” Magnolia said.
Dugan nodded. “Yes, I thought that might be the case.”
Magnolia was soon absorbed in searching for anything that might be available for Stone. She found a pair of denim trousers that seemed a bit too big, but she put them on over Stone’s deerskin pants, knowing that Mary could alter them to fit him.
A shirt was another matter. Nowhere could she find anything that even came close to fitting him, so she settled on some gingham material and some blue chambray that she knew could be sewn into shirts.
“Is that all?” Max Dugan asked when Magnolia came to the counter.
“I need some shoes. Do you have anything that might work?”
“I’m afraid not,” Dugan said shaking his head. “We don’t carry anything like that for children, but if you go down to Mueller’s Boot Shop, he’s probably got a boot last that he could use to make the boy a pair.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dugan, you’ve been most helpful,” Magnolia said as she walked up to the counter to pay for her items. “Would you mind if I left these packages while I take Stone to the barbershop?”
“Of course, I don’t mind. I’ll just put them under the counter until you come back.”
When Magnolia and Stone stepped out of the store, about half a dozen men were waiting for them.
Instinctively, Magnolia pulled Stone close to her, allowing her skirt to cover him.
“No, no, Missy, you can’t hide that Injun,” Kirk Jordan said. “Crazy Jack, grab that kid. We’re gonna string ‘im up.”
“What do you mean, string him up? Don’t you dare touch this child,” Magnolia said, pushing Stone behind her.
“We don’t want to hurt you, but we will if we have to. No Injun is gonna be in Dodge, no matter how small he is.”
The man called Crazy Jack grabbed for Stone, and pushed Magnolia to the ground. Stone started running down the street, as the other men were chasing him. The child was no match for grown men and soon one of them scooped him up under his arm. Stone was kicking and trying to get away, when Cade and Jacob came out of the Red House.
“What the hell are you doing?” Cade yelled as soon as he saw what was happening.
“Stay out of this, McCall,” Kirk Jordan said. “The Willis woman had this brat leading him by the hand. No white woman is gonna do that—not in this town, she ain’t.”
“She can do anything she wants to,” Cade said. “Now give me the boy.”
“You ain’t neither one of you got a gun, McCall. ‘N you may have noticed that there’s six of us here and there’s only two of you,” Jordan said.
“There’re three of us,” Jeter said as he came out of the Red House, holding a pistol. “And I do have a gun. Now put the boy on the ground and walk away.”
“You ain’t gonna do nothin’. This here’s a Injun. Can’t you tell one when you see one, or are you so used to sleeping with a colored woman that it don’t make no difference?” The man who spoke was Crazy Jack, a big, strong man who had established somewhat of a reputation in town for being a saloon fighter. He had once taken on three men at the same time, beating them all.
Jeter handed the pistol to Cade. “What did you say?”
“You heard what I said. Your skin might be white, but you ain’t no white man, not livin’ with a colored woman, ‘n keepin’ a Injun kid . . .”
That was as far as Crazy Jack got before Jeter caught him with a roundhouse right that knocked him flat.
Jeter’s adversary was three inches taller and at least twenty pounds heavier, and he raised up on his elbows, then smiled.
“Well, now, how about this, boys? Ole’ Willis here has picked hisself a fight.”
“Get ‘im, Crazy Jack,” Jordan called out. “Get ‘im good.”
“Oh, I’m goin’ to,” Crazy Jack said as he got to his feet. “Yes, sir, I’m goin’ to teach this ole’ boy here a lesson that he ain’t soon goin’ to forget.”
11
By now not only the group of men who had taken Stone, but several other townspeople, drawn by the prospect of a fight, had gathered around. The effect was to make a large circle, and creating a fighting ring in the middle of the street.
Crazy Jack rubbed his jaw.
“I have to say, you got a pretty good one in on me,” he said. His smile grew broader. “But only ‘cause I wasn’t expectin’ it. Let’s see what you can do now that I’m ready for it.”
He took a step toward Jeter and swung hard. Jeter ducked under the punch that, had it connected, would probably have ended the fight right there. Jeter sent a left jab toward Crazy Jack’s head, connecting with his chin, but the big man laughed it off.
“Is that the best you can do?” Crazy Jack asked, sending another broad right-cross which, like his first attempt, missed the mark.
Jeter scored with two more left jabs, then a right-hook. The hook snapped the big man’s head back, but did nothing more. His smile grew broader, and more insolent.
He changed tactics, and instead of a round-house right cross, sent out a left jab that caught Jeter on the shoulder. Jeter felt the pain of the blow from his shoulder to the tip of his fingers.
The crowd grew in size and intensity as the onlookers began yelling their encouragement to both fighters.
Cade, who was watching Crazy Jack’s supporters to make sure they didn’t interfere, was glad to note that the shouts that were in support of Jeter, exceeded those who were against him by a wide margin.
“Crazy Jack is goin’ to kill ‘im,” someone said, the tone of his voice expressing sympathy for, and not antagonism against Jeter.
“Oh, I don’t know,” another answered. “I’ve seen fights like this before. Lot’s of times, the littler guy wins ‘cause he’s quick
er.”
“Yeah, well, Jeter is quicker, all right.”
As the fight continued, it became evident that Jeter could connect almost at will, but no matter how well he scored, the big man shook it off, as if it were no more than being irritated by a gnat. Then Jeter managed to slip a right jab in that caught his opponent on the end of his nose. He felt the nose go under his blow, then saw blood beginning to gush from Crazy Jack’s nose.
Crazy Jack continued to show his evil grin, the grin even more macabre now, because the blood was running across his teeth.
Jeter realized that Crazy Jack was hurting from the blow to the nose, because now he began guarding it, that defensive position lessening the frequency of his own swings.
“I’m tired of messin’ with you, you son of a bitch, so I’m goin’ to finish you off now,” The big man made a rush toward him with another wild swing.
Ducking under the swing, Jeter sent a hard-left jab into Crazy Jack’s solar plexus which had the effect of taking the big man’s breath away. With a whooshing sound, he bent over and covered his belly with both hands.
Jeter sent a hard, whistling right into the Adams apple, and though he didn’t crush it, the effect was to drop Crazy Jack again, where he lay on the ground, struggling to breathe.
“I’ll be damn,” someone said. “I never thought I’d see anything like that.”
Jeter looked at the others.
“Does anybody else have something to say about my wife?”
“Just that this ain’t over yet,” Jordan said, though the remark was more of a comment, than a challenge.
Jordan and another man helped Crazy Jack to his feet, and they walked away, and with the fight over, the rest of the crowd dispersed.
During the fight, Stone had clung to Cade’s leg. Now, Cade turned his attention to the boy.
“What are you doing out by yourself?” Cade asked as he comforted Stone. “Where’s Magnolia?”
“That man pushed her down,” Stone said, speaking for the first time.
“Where?”
“Back there.” Stone pointed down the street.
The Western Adventures of Cade McCall Box Set Page 68