A look of compassion fills the captain’s face. “It killed him having to leave you behind. But by doing so, he saved the rest of the troop. I nearly had to jail him to keep from going back for you too early, before it was safe.” Richards shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “When we were finally able to get back, he couldn’t find you. The closest thing he found was so disfigured from scavengers, he assumed it was you. He’s grievin’ something bad. You’d be proud of the funeral service.”
Josh can’t hardly process the information. He was left behind and given up for dead. He had to talk to his blood-brother, had to see him. “Cap’n, where’s John? I need to see him.”
The compassionate look deepened. “I’m sorry, Josh. He and the troop have already left, on the trail of the Apache.”
“But I need to tell him. He has to know . . .” It is really getting hard to expend any kind of energy.
“Captain, I need to get him to my office and get started immediately,” the surgeon interjects. “The longer we wait, the longer his recovery is going to be.”
Richards nods in understanding. “We’ll figure it out afterwards, alright?” The captain puts his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “I promise.”
Josh isn’t sure how he feels. Abandonment still rages but this time so does hope. One thing he does know, he’s out of his oomf. He has nothing left and barely nods as he hangs his head in exhaustion.
There’s shuffling and the door opens. “You two, there,” the surgeon says. “Come in here and help me move this man.”
“Just rest, now, Jacobs,” Richards assures.
“Thanks, Cap’n.”
Boots clomping up the steps and into the office remind Josh of Stubborn.
Stubborn! “Cap’n! The mule I rode in on . . . I owe him my life. May I keep him?”
“Sure, Sarge, sure.”
“His name is Stubborn. Make sure he gets some warm oats?”
Richards smiles. “You got it.”
Once he is in the surgeon’s office, they proceed to get Josh rip-roaring drunk. All the better. He doesn’t remember much of the re-breaking and re-locating and setting anything. He spends the next three months in camp, recuperating under the surgeon’s watchful eye. By the time his arm heals, Josh is able to return back to duty as something other than just a barracks rat. He spends most of that time working in the stables, one armed. He gets to know most of the mounts rather well at Camp Wichita, and gets to be known for being able to help out with whatever issues the horses have.
“Hey, Jacobs!”
Josh looks up from sweeping a stall and sees Richards coming toward him. “Yes, sir?”
“Follow me. I have something for you.” The captain turns on his heels and leaves the stables, leaving Josh to follow.
It’s almost as if the horses look at him like they are trying to figure out what the captain wants their stable master for. “Eh, don’t worry, guys,” Josh says to the horses as he braces the broom against the wall. “I’ll be back soon.”
Stubborn lets out a mournful bray.
“Oh, shut up, and stop beingdramatic.” He pats Stubborn’s rump as he walks by.
Once he’s inside and gets a salute in return, Josh waits patiently.
“I’ve got something special for ya, Jacobs,” Richards says. “Special dispatches down to Fort Wichita Falls. They must be hand delivered to the fort commander down there. They’re time sensitive, and are to be destroyed rather than be viewed by anyone else.”
“What are they?”
“Better if you didn’t know the contents of that packet, so don’t to get nosy.” He offers the package to Josh.
Josh gets the feeling something else is going on, but can’t tell what. “Well, I guess that’s it then.” He takes the package and holds it under his arm. “I’ll get packed and head right out. Stubborn’ll enjoy the trip.”
Richards smirks and shakes his head. “Take care.”
“Same to ya, Captain.”
Back at the stables, he says bye to each horse and makes sure each one gets a sweetmeat before he leaves. He looks around, already missing the place. This is where he’s found peace.
Josh is about twenty miles outside of Fort Wichita Falls, when Stubborn refuses to move forward. In fact, he starts leading Josh down a different path entirely. Over the weeks they were traveling together before they got back to Camp Wichita, he had learned to trust Stubborn’s instincts, learned to listen to him, as he is generally a lot smarter about stuff like that than him. No point in changing his opinion now.
Josh continues to let the mule have the lead, down in to a series of gullies, and when Stubborn decides to stop, he ties the mule to some scrub brush. He’s been smelling smoke for the last few minutes. Someone has a camp close-by, and is doing a fair job of burning some bacon. It is just a few gullies over, that Josh finds their camp.
Since no one with any good intention hides their camp that well, Josh creeps up to it. He gets close enough to see the uniforms and hear some of the men talking. They are rushing to finish setting up an ambush for someone, expecting the victim to come by shortly, so they have to hurry. One of the corporals mentions that they haven’t heard anything from the lookout, by the gullies. With a feeling of dread, Josh creeps back to where he left Stubborn. The dispatches were supposed to be for the commander’s eyes only, but if he was going to risk his life delivering the, it would be a good idea to know what they said. So he opens the package, and reads them.
“OF COURSE, CAPT. RICHARDS had left me in the dark, with the excuse that it would only endanger me knowing what they contained, but he also told me I was the only one he could trust to do this mission.” He shakes his head. “When I read the dispatches, I was stunned, and I knew why. They outlined how the Quaker agency, in conjunction with several troops of the cavalry, were not only authorizing the raids into Texas, but were helping to provide the Apache and Comanche with weapons, wagon locations, and some provisions like food. It named places, dates, and provisions that had been stolen, only to be sold back to white settlers out of Fort Cobb.”
John nods in understanding. “I knew someone had turned in a report telling General Sheridan about what was going on out there. Guess it was you, then.”
Jake nods. “That was a little later but, yeah. I knew I was in over my head. I knew that I needed faster horses, and a different route to Fort Wichita Falls.”
JOSH IS SURE HE’S THE intended victim they are waiting for. He leaves Stubborn enough food and water for several days, and waits until after dark, then heads back to the camp. When he arrives, things there are tense. They were expecting him to be through the area by now, and they know something has gone wrong, but don’t know what. At this point, the camp is considerably smaller than it once was.
He is able to sneak over to the horse lines, and with the horses being familiar with him, the animals stay quiet. He grabs three horses and enough tack for each one, so he can change mounts frequently. Once he gets out of sight, he rides out of there like he had all the devil’s legions on his tail. It still takes him all night and most of the morning to make it to the fort at Wichita Falls.
As he rides in, he notices all the additional guards, who seem to be paying rather close attention to all the incoming riders. He rides directly to the commander’s building, and after he hitches the horses to the post, he’s flagged down by Lieutenant Davis.
The lieutenant pulls Josh to one of the alleys between the buildings. “Just what in the name of all that is holy are you doing here? An entire troop rode in yesterday saying you killed Captain Richards, robbed the payroll, and are headed down towards Mexico. We are in the process of sending troops south to go after you. You need to get out of here, and not come back!” He started to push him back toward to the horses.
Josh tries to say something to him, to defend himself, but is waved off.
“I’m not kidding, leave and don’t come back!”
Josh is stunned. He can’t believe that not only would the troop
have left him for dead, but that he would be blamed for the death of his friend, Capt. Richards. His mind racing, Josh turns and leaves, but this time at a much more sedate pace, trying to keep from drawing attention to himself. Once he gets out of visual range, he bolts again. About ten miles outside of the fort, he backtracks by almost a mile, and sets himself up on the back side of a hill from the road. He’s glad he did, since there are three troopers from Fort Wichita that are doing a fair job of tracking him. Two of them are younger and thin, but the third and older, looks close enough to Josh, he thinks he can easily pass for the man. He gets an idea at that point. He recognizes all three, and knows them all to be implicated by the report he carries. He sets up an ambush, hiding by one of the boulders big enough to hide him and the horses. He knows they have to come this way to get back to Fort Wichita Falls. However, they prove to be more tenacious than he thought, and are gone until dark.
When they come into view, Josh’s repeater sings out several times. The first round embeds itself in Sargent Isaacson’s chest squarely, sending him tumbling from the saddle. The next two shots catch Private Jones in the head and chest. Private Johnson’s horse bolts, and Josh’s rounds nail him in the back about thirty yards down the trail. After rounding up their horses, he binds them to their saddles and rides back to where he has hidden Stubborn.
The next morning, he shaves his beard to chops, packs everyone up, and rides back to Fort Wichita Falls. It takes him two days to get there.
“Halt! Identify yourself!”
“Sargent Issacson returning from the hunt!” Josh announces.
The doors open. “Didja get the murderer?”
Josh throws his thumb over his shoulder at one of the dead bodies as he rides through the gates. “Got him square in the chest and brought our boys home.”
The gates close behind him. “Good job, sarge.”
“I need to see the post commander,” he tells one of the soldiers coming up to take on the extra horses.
“Major Walters is in his office. Go on over.”
“Thanks.” Dismounting is more of a challenge now since he’s been shot, broken, re-broken and healed. He groans as his feet hit the ground and has to carefully shake out his legs. When he is able to get in to see the post commander, Major Walters, he presents the major with the packet of reports, explains what he’d done, and why.
Major Walters, being good friends with Capt. Richards, is stunned by the news and scope of the conspiracy. He immediately sends orders to the quartermaster to have a new uniform issued to Josh. The major points Josh to a chair, and says, “Sit down a minute, Sargent.” As Josh sits down, the major sits on the edge of his desk. “You present me with a unique and difficult problem, with an equally difficult solution. You have just admitted to the killing of several cavalry troops, as well as there are these accusations that you robbed the payroll. That news has already been forwarded on to General Sheridan. I think it best, if you are willing, that Sargent Jacobs stays dead, and Sargent Isaacson’s name is cleared of any wrongdoing.”
“NOW, HAVING GROWN UP with me, you know I don’t really feel tied to my name. Especially after we left Tahlequah. That was the name we’d agreed on, after we were banished. It took me a bit, but I went ahead and agreed, knowing that I was now officially dead. Major Walters breathed a sigh of relief and signed the transfer orders sending me to Fort Supply, as part of the Quartermasters. He allotted me a single mule, which of course, I chose Stubborn, who come to find out was stolen from the army to begin with. I got out to Fort Supply at the end of ‘75 . I ended up spending a few years out there working with their mules and horses. After the Red River War, I transferred to Fort Reno, where I put Stubborn out to stud. Major Walters ended up going out there after the war, and was promoted to Lieutenant Colonel. It was about six months ago, I retired from there, with full a pension from the Army. Since then, I have been working with the US marshal’s service, out of the Guthrie Office. I am now a Deputy Marshal.”
John sighs, hands folded on his chest. “That is the most incredible story I have ever heard, just too unbelievable. I don’t think I CAN believe it. How do I know that you aren’t lying?”
Jacob shifts in his seat for the third time in as many minutes, his old injury making it impossible to get comfortable. “As for working with the marshal’s service, here’s my badge.” Jake opens his vest to show the badge pinned on the inside. “Other than that, I don’t know what to tell you that will make you believe me. You will have to decide on your own, if our previous friendship means I am trustworthy enough to believe or not. Either way, I need to go check on a few things.” He stands to go outside, and looks at the incredulous look his childhood friend was giving him. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just going outside to tell Ranger, my horse, I am going to be in here awhile longer, and to pull off his bridle so he can have a drink. You can come out here with me if you want, after all.” Jake walks out the door, and shakes his head at the hard look Ranger was giving him.
“I know, I know. I said it would only be a few minutes, but he’s an old friend after all.” Ranger looks away disdainfully. “Look! I’m sorry, but he was as surprised as I was. Here, let me get that off you, so you can get a drink.” He removes the bridle and leads the horse to the trough. Ranger drinks greedily. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long. I promise it won’t happen again.” The horse pointedly ignores his rider. “I have to get back in. I will try to hurry. I promise, if we stay here overnight, you will get the best stable we can find.” Jake walks back inside the marshal’s office to find the marshal standing and looking at the stack of wanted posters.
“Looks like quite the crop of winners we have here.” John looks at one in particular. “Here’s a real good one. Looks like Bill Dalton is still on the lam. I hear he calls himself the current-day Jesse James.” He sighs and sits heavily into his chair. “We still need to figure out what we are going to do about you.”
“We don’t really need to do anything about me. I have been Jacob Isaacson for almost half my life now. Why does anything need to be done? I have done nothing dishonorable, nor have I done anything of merit that is illegal.”
“You have lied, living the life of another man for more than fifteen years.” John lifts his hand to emphasize his point.
“I have given his name honor. I have served and been pensioned. I still say I have done nothing wrong.”
John shakes his head, incredulous. “You expect me to treat you as a stranger? As if we never served together? As if I never mourned your death at the hands of the very people we fought for so long?”
“I don’t expect to see you but once in a great while. I go from place to place and deliver dispatches, wanted posters, and the Post. Once the telegraph lines make it out here in the next few years, I expect you will never see me again.”
Chapter 3
In a dispassionate tone, John asks,“Where are you heading from here?”
“To the lands of the Shawnee. I have a letter to deliver to a marshal working on brokering a deal there.”
“Does the current U.S. Marshal know who you are?”
“Are you funnin’ me? It’s good ole Lieutenant Colonel Walters hisself. After the war, he spent almost a full ten years out at Fort Reno, like I’d said. However, he left the fort, and spent some time down in Tyler, as a Texas ranger, then joined up with the Marshal’s Service, where he volunteered for the post up here when they opened the territory. He came up to Fort Reno, and offered me the spot for one of his deputies.”
John’s eyes go wide. “Is that the same Richard Walters we served under after being banished?”
Jake’s smile is wide. “The very same.”
“Well, I’ll be!” John looks out the window thoughtfully. “How is that old codger doing? He’s got to be in his sixties now!”
“You might remember his father paid for his commission. He’s the same age we are. However, last I saw him, two months ago, he was feeling a bit of the ague, still surviving and making a go
of things.”
John turns from looking out the window, to address Jake. “Next time you see him, tell him I would like to have a drink with him, if possible.”
Incredulously, Jake asks, “You mean you are just going to let me go?”
“Do I really have much of a choice? If I expose your lies, I will bring down more than just a couple of liars, destroy more than just a few lives. You have manipulated me into going along.”
Jake sighs. “I really wish you wouldn’t put it that way.”
“I see you didn’t disagree with me.”
Jake shakes his head. “I’m not trying to agree or disagree. I just want to be able to go my own way.”
John’s look is one of almost disgust. “Then be gone with you.”
AS HIS BLOOD-BROTHER leaves, John stares after him. The door closes quietly and John stands there a moment longer, before sitting back down in the chair.
He stares up in the air and says, “God, I know that Your plan is greater than what I can see. I know You have plans that don’t match mine. Why him, God? Why ME? Why NOW? I just pray that Your will, Your mercy is served by this. I don’t understand. I pray You give me the understanding of Your will in this. Amen.”
He reaches in the desk drawer and pulls out his Bible. He reads Proverbs 2:1-5. He stares into space for a moment before he goes back about his work.
He pulls out a wanted poster with the name of Richard Buchannan on it, hangs it on the board and spends a moment gazing at the picture. They have increased the reward from $500 to $1,000. John isn’t sure he has heard what the man has done recently, but is glad the government is realizing how dangerous he really is.
JAKE SITS AT THE END of the bar, nursing his beer. First, the town wasn’t where it was supposed to be. Then there’s John being in town. Now an actual hotel and a saloon across the street. Today has been a day of surprises. The beer was a little cloudy, but it was really good. It had a slightly fruity flavor to it that made the taste of the alcohol almost completely disappear. While he has always been partial to whiskey, this beer made him reconsider his taste.
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