Bear Claws

by Robert Lee Murphy

  Russell stood and held up a hand. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. All finished.” He shook Will’s hand. “Thank you, young man. You were a big help. Everything went fine except I couldn’t get those two gentlemen on the far left into the picture. The lens is not that wide.”

  Will chuckled. So much for Luey’s imitation of Napoleon making it into the history books. Unfortunately, his Uncle Sean would be left out, too.

  General Grant and his fellow officers shook hands all around and headed across the parade ground toward the fort’s headquarters to prepare for their departure. Durant, Seymour, and the other railroad officials walked in the opposite direction. Only Will and his uncle remained in front of the club with General Dodge.

  “That’s settled then,” Dodge said. “My route stands. There’s no more need for a survey inspection team. Sean, I’m disbanding your unit effective immediately.”

  CHAPTER 38

  What had General Dodge just said? No more survey inspection team? Will had counted on following his uncle across Wyoming and into Utah—until the completion of the transcontinental railroad. What was he going to do now?

  “Sean,” Dodge said, “I’ve got three problems facing me. First, Doc Durant is returning to New York, but he’s leaving Seymour out west . . . sending him to Green River to supposedly oversee the development of the UP’s new properties there. Second, I have to accompany General Grant back to Omaha, so I can’t stay with Seymour and keep him from making a mess out of things. And third, Durant brought along Count Wolfgang von Schroeder, a German aristocrat, who happens to be a major bond holder in the Union Pacific. Durant wants me to escort the count on a hunting expedition beyond the end of track. But, obviously, I can’t do that myself.”

  “How can I help, sir?” Will’s uncle asked.

  “You can stay close to Seymour at Green River and keep the ‘insulting engineer’ from creating problems we can’t fix.”

  “All right,” his uncle said.

  “I also understand,” Dodge continued, “that Mort Kavanagh, that so-called mayor of Hell on Wheels, has sent a crony of his to Green River to start buying up land. Between Seymour and Kavanagh, they could create all sorts of havoc for the UP. It’s most important to keep Seymour from creating trouble. But if you can head off Kavanagh’s land-grab, so much the better.”

  “I’ll do my best,” his uncle said. “What about my crew?”

  “You can leave your rodman and chainman with Sam Reed in Utah. He can use their help in surveying our route around the Great Salt Lake. As for your cook, Jack Casement can probably put him to work in the construction train’s mess hall.”

  Will stood to one side. His name hadn’t been mentioned.

  “That will take care of two of the problems. I’m not sure what to do about the third one. If that old mountain man Bullfrog Charlie Munro were still alive, I’d ask him to serve as a guide for the count’s hunting expedition.”

  Will looked at his uncle, then at General Dodge, and cleared his throat. “I can do it,” he said.

  Dodge stared at him a moment. “You? How?”

  “I’m a hunter for the railroad. At least, that’s my unofficial job.” Will glanced at his uncle. “Officially, I’m on the payroll as an assistant cook to Homer. But I’ve been hunting this area for the survey inspection team for almost a year, and I’ve tracked and shot all kinds of game.”

  Will drew himself up to full height and continued to look Dodge in the eye. Dodge cocked his head to one side and looked at Will’s uncle, who nodded his head slightly.

  “Well,” Dodge said, “maybe that is the solution to my third problem.”

  “General Dodge,” Conductor Hobart Johnson called out as he strode across Fort Sanders’ parade ground and joined them at the picket fence in front of the Officers’ Club. “The train is ready to depart for Benton. ‘Colonel’ Seymour is already onboard and demanding we get underway.”

  “All right, Mr. Johnson. Sean, you go along and try to appease Seymour. I’ll talk over this hunting problem with Will and send him along shortly to join you.”

  Will’s uncle followed Johnson across the parade ground, leaving Will alone with General Dodge.

  “Come inside a moment.” Dodge led the way back into the Officers’ Club and approached a wall on which hung a large map of the Dakota Territory. Hand-drawn lines indicated the route of the railroad from the Nebraska border to where it ended now at Benton.

  “We’ll have to change the label on this map.” Dodge tapped the legend. “I’ve received a telegram from Washington informing me Congress has separated this part of the country from the Dakota Territory and created a new one. We’re now standing in the Wyoming Territory.”

  Dodge placed a finger on the map where the railroad crossed the North Platte River. “Here’s where you need to start.”

  Will followed along as the bearded chief engineer’s finger traced the course of the river northward, then westward along the route of the old Oregon Trail. “Guide the count’s hunting party up the North Platte, then west along the base of the Wind River Range until you come to the Green River. From there lead the party south to where the railroad will intersect the river at the new town site we’re calling Green River.”

  Will checked the legend on the map, then spaced off the distance with his fingers. “That’s over three-hundred miles, General.”

  “I know. That’s what Count von Schroeder wants to do. He plans to gather specimens of our native wildlife for his private museum in Germany. He particularly wants to bag a white buffalo he’s heard about that roams with a small herd up the North Platte Valley.”

  “A white buffalo? An albino?”

  “I guess. I understand they’re considered sacred to the Indians. After the count gets the white buffalo, he wants to hunt elk and mountain sheep in the Wind River Mountains, then visit the sites of some of the early trappers’ historic rendezvous that occurred along the Green River thirty . . . forty years ago. What do you think, Will? Can you do this?”

  Will smiled broadly. “Yes, sir.”

  “The count has already proceeded to Benton. Report to him there. I’ll give you a letter informing him I’ve assigned you as his guide.”

  Dodge sat at a desk in one corner of the club and quickly scribbled out a note on a piece of paper. He placed the note in an envelope, addressed it, and handed it to Will. “You’ll find Count von Schroeder and his entourage at the only hotel in Benton.”

  “Entourage, sir?”

  “You wouldn’t expect a count to travel all the way from Europe alone, would you?”

  Will didn’t really know anything about royalty. He’d read about them in books, but that was all. “I guess not.”

  “Count von Schroeder brought a gunsmith and a valet with him.”

  “Gunsmith and valet?”

  “The gunsmith, of course, maintains his assortment of hunting weapons. The valet dresses him . . . I suppose.” Dodge laughed.

  Will smiled. This was going to be a new experience, for sure. But he’d never been through the part of the country General Dodge had pointed out on the map. “General, if the count has people accompanying him, could I ask someone to accompany me?”

  Dodge looked at Will, his eyebrows arching upward. “How’s that? I thought you said you could do this.”

  “I’m a hunter, true. But, I’m not familiar with that part of the territory. I know someone who is.”

  “And who might that be?”

  “Lone Eagle.”

  “Who?”

  “Lone Eagle Munro. Bullfrog’s son. He was born and raised along the North Platte. I’d like to take him along as a scout.”

  “Well, I guess my budget can afford that. Tell Lone Eagle I’ll pay him the same wages as the Army pays the Pawnee Scouts.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “And if you’re successful with this hunting expedition, I might be able to arrange a slight raise for you. Say to pay equal to that of a full cook.” Dodge grinned.

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nbsp; “I’d appreciate that, sir. Thank you, again.”

  “Now get along with you. You need to catch Conductor Johnson’s train before it leaves the station.”

  Will sat in the rear of the passenger car beside his uncle and Hobart Johnson as the train pulled away from the Laramie train station and headed west. Will explained to them what General Dodge had asked him to do. Conductor Johnson agreed to stop the train at the North Platte River long enough for Will to disembark so he could head for Lone Eagle’s cabin.

  When the train passed through Rattlesnake Tunnel, Will pointed out where he and Lone Eagle had dismantled the nitroglycerin bombs Paddy O’Hannigan had planted. A few minutes later, the train slowed and came to a stop before it crossed the long bridge over the river.

  “Why are we stopping here, Conductor?” Seymour demanded. He had turned in his seat at the front of the car and looked back to Conductor Johnson. “Savages could attack us here at any moment. Didn’t you see that rattlesnake pinned with an arrow to the crossbeams when we came out of the tunnel?”

  Conductor Johnson opened the rear passenger door and smiled at Will when he exited. Will had already told his uncle and the conductor the story about the rattlesnake.

  It was only an hour’s walk along the east bank of the river until Will came to the clearing for Bullfrog’s old cabin. He stopped and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hallo, the cabin! Will Braddock, here.” He didn’t want Lone Eagle to think someone was sneaking up on him.

  Lone Eagle appeared in the open door of the cabin and waved. “Hello, Will. Come on in.”

  They sat before the stone hearth on three-legged stools while Will explained the reason for his visit. “I know you don’t want to scout for the Army,” he said, “because you think they’ll be chasing your Cheyenne relatives, but this is different.”

  “I don’t want to scout for anybody. I just want to be left alone.”

  “But you need money.”

  “What for? I am a hunter and trapper now. I can find everything I need right out there.” He waved a hand toward the outdoors.

  “You have to buy ammunition, don’t you, to keep hunting? Or are you going to steal it?”

  Lone Eagle shrugged his shoulders.

  “I need your help, Lone Eagle. I’m a pretty good hunter, but I don’t know the territory. Besides, you can probably lead us right to this white buffalo the count wants to shoot.”

  “White buffalo?”

  “Yes, the count’s been told there’s a white buffalo in a herd that roams along the North Platte.”

  “True. There is a white buffalo. It is sacred to all Indians. I cannot allow this count to kill the white buffalo.”

  Lone Eagle stood and lifted a bow and quiver of arrows off a peg beside the door. “Let’s go,” he said.

  CHAPTER 39

  Will rode double on the spotted pony behind Lone Eagle up the single, dusty street of Benton. They stopped in front of a one-story structure whose crudely painted sign proclaimed it to be the Grand Hotel. Will had been in the hotel, before the fancy name had been affixed, and knew that the tent that extended beyond the false-front simply held two rows of bunks—enough for two-dozen sleepers, more if they shared a bed. General Dodge had told him the count would be staying in the only hotel in town. Had to be this one—there weren’t any others.

  Will slid off the back of Lone Eagle’s pony and stepped across the narrow wooden walkway. He paused for a moment to brush his hands down over his buckskin jacket to dislodge the trail dust, straightened his haversack on his shoulder, then turned the knob of the front door. Locked. He jiggled the knob, and when it still didn’t open, he knocked.

  A moment later a clean-shaven, middle-aged man opened the door a crack. “Ja?” the man asked. The stiff white collar of his heavily starched shirt held his neck rigidly straight above his black suit.

  “I have come to see Count Wolfgang von Schroeder.”

  “Und who are you?” The German accent was unmistakable.

  “Will Braddock. General Dodge sent me.”

  “Ja. Come in.” The man opened the door fully and motioned for Will to enter what used to be the small lobby of the hotel.

  The opulent furnishings and thick draperies so startled Will he jerked off his old slouch hat and pressed it against his stomach with both hands. “I thought this was a hotel.” He’d walked into an elaborate sitting room.

  The man closed the door behind Will and snorted. “The count has rented the entire hotel, so he can be somewhat comfortable in this wild country. Please to wait here. I will inform his Excellency of your presence.”

  The man disappeared through a canvas flap separating the former lobby from what used to be the bunkroom. Will could only imagine how that larger, second room must look now.

  Since the man who answered the door hadn’t acknowledged he was Count von Schroeder, Will assumed he must be the valet General Dodge had mentioned. He’d read about butlers in Dickens’ novels, but he’d never seen one in person.

  Will, still clasping his hat in front of him, glanced around the room, admiring the overstuffed chairs and sofas. The count must be very rich to afford such luxury.

  The flap to the adjoining room opened and the man whom Will assumed was the valet returned, followed by a taller man who wore a dark green uniform, embellished with rows of gold braid. The waxed ends of his mustache extended the width of his face, ending in spear points. Even Lieutenant Moretti’s mustache wasn’t that long. How’d he sleep with that thing?

  “Goot day. Count Wolfgang von Schroeder, at your service.” The uniformed man clicked the heels of his boots together sharply and bowed slightly.

  “You have met Rupert Ostermann, my personal servant.” The count indicated the man Will had decided was the valet. Rupert hadn’t actually introduced himself, but Will decided not to mention that fact.

  “Rupert tells me General Dodge sent you. Are you a member of the guide’s team?”

  “I am the guide, sir.”

  “Humph! You are very young, no?”

  “I’m old enough. But I will be assisted by Lone Eagle Munro, a Cheyenne scout.”

  The count raised his eyebrows, jutted his head forward, and stared at Will. “An Indian? And where is this one you call Lone Eagle?”

  “Outside, sir. He doesn’t like buildings. He prefers the freedom of the outdoors.”

  Will withdrew an envelope from his haversack and handed it to the count. “General Dodge asked me to give you this.”

  The count studied the envelope, which was addressed to Count von Schroeder and bore a return address of General Grenville Dodge, Chief Engineer, UPRR. “UPRR?” the count asked.

  “Union Pacific Rail Road, sir,” Will said.

  “Ah, but of course.” The count handed the envelope to Rupert without saying anything. The servant stepped to a writing desk, slid a letter opener deftly under the envelope’s flap, and handed the envelope back.

  The count extracted a single sheet from the envelope and unfolded it. He read it slowly, then looked at Will. “General Dodge writes you are well qualified to be my guide. He also mentions that this Lone Eagle is a half-breed. Can he be trusted? Can I understand him?”

  “Lone Eagle is very trustworthy, sir. He speaks excellent English. I don’t know about his German.”

  “English is fine,” the count said. “So, then, we prepare for a wonderful hunt. No?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Goot. In the party will be my Austrian gunsmith, Herr Conrad Eichhorn. He is the hunting master from my estates in Germany. Herr Eichhorn is out gathering supplies for the hunt at the moment.”

  Will nodded.

  “And Rupert, of course,” the count said, “goes with me everywhere. He will manage the camp. Rupert had engaged a Mexican to cook for us, but he got drunk last night and was beaten in a fight so badly he can’t work. Rupert will have to find another cook. I wish we had a real chef.”

  “I have a friend who’s a cook,” Will said. “I guess Homer
’s not a chef, but I can vouch for his ability to turn wild game into a pretty good meal. I might be able to get him to come along . . . but you’d have to pay him more than the railroad does now.”

  “Hmn, interesting.”

  Will thought Homer would prefer serving the count more than shoveling grub at the gandy dancers. “My friend’s also good with pack animals.”

  “Send your friend to Rupert, who will interview him and determine an appropriate wage, if he engages him.” The count motioned to his servant, who snapped his heels and bobbed his head to acknowledge his instructions.

  The count stepped to the doorway behind him, lifted the flap, and extended a hand in invitation to someone in the back room. “Herr Braddock, there is another member of our hunting party. May I present Miss Elspeth McNabb.”

  Will’s mouth fell open. In the doorway stood Jenny’s sister, Elspeth.

  The count handed Elspeth into the sitting room, and when he turned to face Will, Elspeth shook her head and held a finger to her pursed lips.

  “Rupert,” the count said, “step into the back room with me. I want to give money to you and Herr Braddock for hiring the horses and mules.”

  “Ja, mein Count.”

  “Elspeth, my dear,” the count said, “please be so kind as to entertain Herr Braddock for a moment.”

  “Of course.” Elspeth stepped forward to allow the count and Rupert to pass into the room behind her. Her skirt rustled as she glided over to stand in front of Will.

  “Herr Braddock, so nice to meet you.” She spoke loudly enough for her voice to carry into the other room. “Sh.” She mouthed the caution silently and extended both hands with her palms up, inviting Will to give her his hands.

  Will closed his mouth, which had remained open since Elspeth’s appearance. He complied with Elspeth’s request, placing his hands in hers. The low-cut neckline of her dress revealed bare shoulders, across which spread her golden hair in tight ringlets. Elspeth looked directly into his eyes with her deep blue ones—eyes that shone with a brilliance matching her smile.

  She squeezed Will’s hands, then spoke in a whispered drawl. “Will, please don’t give me away. This is my ticket out of here. My chance to get out from under the grasp of Mort Kavanagh.”