by W. R. Benton
“I've heard it called the Battle of Pittsburg Landing, but I don't know why.” Bill said.
“I think most of the battles had different names for them, depending on which side you were on, but you said your boys; were you a leader?” Dutch asked, finding it hard to believe Sam could lead anything.
“Corporal, but only made that 'cause I was able to read a little bit. None of the others in my squad could read a-tall. I finally made Sergeant, but the war ended before I could sew it on.”
“Lawdy, we must have been in bad shape to make ole Samuel here a Sergeant. I know we were desperate the last year of the war, but this takes the cake.” Bill said and all laughed, even Sam.
Two hours later, Bill said, “I see your town, on the other side of the tracks, oh, about a mile off.”
Dutch squinted and then said, “That's got to be it. Now, once in town, no getting drunk, taking a soiled dove, and for God's sake, no gun play. If you want to drink, buy a bottle, and remember, we'll only spend this one night here. I hope to get in, rest, and get out without any attention drawn to us, okay?”
“Let's get some good food for a change, huh?” Bill said.
“We can do that. We'll either eat the finger food the saloon has or find us an eating place.”
“I want a hot meal if we can,” Sam said, “with something good to eat. You know what I mean, a regular meal that's hot and tastes good. I like ya both, but ain't a one of us that's a cook.”
“Okay, but we get a room first and one with two beds. I want the single bed and you two can share the other.” Dutch said and then grinned.
No one spoke as they neared the town and about a hundred yards from the first building was a sign that read, “Shiloh, Nebraska, population 300.” Near the last 'a' in Nebraska was a bullet hole.
They rode down the middle of the main street and dismounted in front of the only hotel they saw. Tying their horses to the hitching post, they made their way inside the brick building.
A rail thin clerk behind a desk gave the three men a look of contempt, but Dutch asked, “How much for a room with two beds?”
“Our rate is fifty cents a night.”
“And the price for a bottle of rye?” Bill asked.
“Two dollars a quart.” The clerk was fighting a smile, because he doubted these men had the price of a hot bath, which was a dime.
Tossing a golden eagle on the counter, Dutch said, “I want a room, with two beds, three bottles of rye whiskey and a bathtub brought to our room. How much is the tub?”
“We don't bring a tub, but we do have a washroom out back and old Nam charges a dime a body, which includes free lye soap.”
“Okay, we'll give him a try. Get a wiggle on, son, we've been on the trail for days and need some rest.”
“While I get the keys, sign my register, please.” the thin man said, and then moved toward the far wall where keys were hanging on nails.
As the clerk pulled a key, Dutch signed in as John H. Woodrow of Kansas City, Missouri.
Looking quickly at the register, the clerk said, “I'm James, Mister Woodrow, and if you have any needs, let me know.”
“Do y'all have any good family style eatin' places 'round heah?” Sam asked, his Southern accent clear and sharp.
“Down about a half a block you'll see Misty's, and it's got complete meals at a very reasonable price. My wife and I eat there at special times.”
“What's reasonable?” Bill asked.
“Well, they have a daily special that's usually around twenty cents a person. The last time I ate there I had meatloaf, mashed taters, pinto beans, salad, and coffee for that price.”
“Sounds good to me.” Dutch said as they moved for their room.
“Room 101, so it's the first door on the left.” the clerk said.
No one replied as they were moving for the room, but Bill did wave to show he heard the man.
Once in the room, they found a double bed and single. Dutch sat and said, “I want to get my boots off, my feet are tired.” He moved to the single bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.
“This is a nice room.” Bill said, and it was. The furnishings and the room were almost new, having opened less than a year ago.
Sam laughed and said, “Check the water in the pitcher, 'cause I'll bet it's brown.”
Bill moved to the pitcher and said, “Nope, it's clear and clean.”
“I want you two yahoos to get scrubbed down, shave and change your clothes. We'll get cleaned up a little and then get something to eat.” Dutch said and he stood and stretched.
There was a loud knock at the door and all three men pulled their pistols and cocked them.
Chapter 9
LEW noticed of the three men standing at his table, the big man seemed to be in control, so if push came to shove, he'd take the large feller out first. The other two had not said a word yet, and they were of average size. None of the three looked to have had a bath in months, and all emitted an odor that he remembered so well from the war.
Lew glanced around, and the only other man in the place was the bartender and he was washing beer glasses.
The big man, speaking at almost a whisper, asked, “Now, are ya Lew Stewart or not? I think ya are, so I'm goin' to take ya in anyway. I'm Henry Lewis, bounty hunter.”
Lew said, “Lewis, I'm no reverend or I'd not be in a saloon drinking, now would I? I'm warning you, don't knock the next drink from my hand. Understood? If you do, I'll kill you.”
“He's got a point there. I ain't never seen a preacher man drinkin', and a preacher wouldn't warn ya like that neither. I think yer barkin' up the wrong tree, Henry.”
“The wanted poster says he used to be a preacher, but his family was kilt. Pete, don't ya reckon a thing like that would turn any man to drinkin'? As for knockin' a drink from your hand, I'll do what I want to do, Stewart.”
“I don't know, I ain't never had no family.” Pete replied.
The big man leaned over, placed his left hand on the table, near Lew's shotgun, and said, “Stand, Stuart, because I'm takin' ya to the law or I'll kill ya where ya sit.”
Lew's hand moved quickly and there came a loud thud, followed by a shriek, and then the shotgun was pulled up and fired. A single barrel of the gun spat flames and lead at Pete, while the second barrel killed the other man.
Henry was still trying to get the knife out of his hand, which was pinned to the table top, when three shots fired under the table struck him in the center of the chest. As he fell, he pulled the table over as well, his hand still held in place by the skinning knife. Lew had just enough time to pick up his shotgun.
The two men struck by the scatter-gun had dropped without a sound, but Henry was screaming as his legs jerked violently and blood slowly seeped from his homespun brown shirt. The wanted poster fell from his hand, so Lew picked it up and placed it in his coat pocket.
The bartender pulled a shotgun out from under the bar and said, “I don't know what happened back there, but I heard that man threaten to kill you where you sat.”
Lew made his way to the bar, ordered a double rye, reloaded his shotgun and placed it on the bar top. He no sooner kicked the strong drink back, than a deputy walked in with his pistol pulled, and cocked.
“Who did the killin'?” the law dog asked.
“I did, but didn't have a choice.” Lew said.
The bartender said, “Tom, it's the God's truth. I heard them men ask if he was such and such, a preacher, but this feller said his name was Stoner. Then the biggest of the three said, 'I'll kill ya where ya sit.' Right after that, the fight started. Hell, I'd a killed 'em, too. Mr. Stoner here didn't have much choice.”
“Who are you, and who'd they think you were?” Tom, the lawman asked, as he met Lew's eyes.
“They kept calling me James Cotton. I'm John Stoner out of Saint Louis, Missouri.”
“Is that the name you remember, Ted?” Tom looked at the bartender.
Shrugging the man said, “Hell, I guess so, but it a
ll happened so fast, I ain't rightly sure. I know he had to shoot, or he'd be the dead one and not them.”
The deputy moved to the bodies, shook his head at the damage the scatter-gun did and then asked, “Why three shots into the big man?”
“I don't know if you were in the war, sir, but I taught myself to shoot everything three times. I've seen men shot once or twice still keep coming and they'd end up killing men, too. No, sir, I shoot until all movement stops, and always will.”
“I was in the war, so I know what you mean.” The lawman searched the pockets, found forty dollars, letters on two of the bodies, a half pint of rye, but no identification on the big man.
“The big man said he was a bounty hunter and the name I heard him called was Henry.” Lew offered.
“I'll wire the Feds and see if a Henry has ever claimed a reward. I may get lucky. As for you, Mr. Stoner, I suggest you move on and leave my town. I know Ted told me the truth as he saw it, but this part of town is usually quiet and I want to keep it that way.”
“I have a room in a hotel and I'm leaving before sunup on a train heading to Omaha.”
“Oh,” The lawman asked, “business there?”
“Uh, yes, see I'm an expert in the cattle business. I do consulting work on cross-breeding and the resulting calves. I should be in Omaha for about a week. When I return home to Saint Louis, you can be sure I'll not stop here overnight.”
“You're free to go, Mr. Stoner.”
Lew stopped at the bar long enough to buy a quart of rye to take back to his room. While it was still early in his view, he would stay in his room this night. He would leave on no train, but ride his horse to Omaha after he woke in the morning.
Two days later, as he rode over the plains, he saw smoke and vultures off in the distance. Not sure what it could be, he dismounted, pegged his horse into the soft loam, and moved forward on foot. When he neared the hill where he'd seen the smoke and vultures, he crawled to the top to look into the valley.
In the valley below were ten wagons, and all but a couple had burned or were in the process of burning. They were circled, as a wagon train would do at night, but he saw no bodies. Carefully circling the area, he spotted the location where about forty horses carrying weight approached the wagons at a run and then a little later noticed where about thirty-five left, some with no weight at all on them. Nearing the wagons he spotted a few dead animals, mules for the most part, except he did see dead oxen and horses too. The bloody bodies of men and women were scattered all over the inside of the circled wagons. When he neared, a vulture was pulling a long strand of intestine from the body of a woman and another was eating the eyes out of a dead man.
Damned nasty birds, but they serve a purpose , he thought as he looked for survivors. All the women had been used hard and then mutilated. More than one had her breasts removed or sliced into ribbons. At a couple of the nastier mutilations he threw up and had to move on, looking for survivors. As he wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand, he wondered why in the world the victims were cut to pieces. Lew shook his head and moved to the wagons to see if there was any information about these people to be found. If so, he'd wire their families back east and inform them of what had happened.
At the first wagon he found an old Bible and some loose papers and letters stuck in the pages. Up under the seat he found almost five hundred dollars in gold coin, in a small buckskin bag. He might be a wanted killer, but he was no thief. He'd return the money to an address of a family, if he found one.
As he approached the second wagon, a shotgun barrel suddenly poked out from the canvas and a woman's voice said, “That's close enough; who are you?”
“I'm John Stoner, cattleman, on my way to Omaha. I saw the smoke from the burning wagons and the circling buzzards. Lady, I'm no threat to you or anyone left in this group. Have you given thought to the fact you're many miles from civilization? Not to mention you're the only survivor of this attack, as far as I can tell.”
“I have given great thought to my situation, but as a woman alone with a child, I cannot trust anyone.” A petite blond poked her head and shoulders from the wagon canvas. Her hair was long and her eyes blue.
“Come, we need to leave here. We'll talk more once I get an evening camp established later. Did you say you had a child with you?”
“Yes, I have my son Billy with me.”
He thought for a moment, She's a right handsome woman, but she might lead to trouble on a trail and hassles I don't need. Well, I can't leave her, so I'll take her to the nearest town and be done with her and the kid , and then asked, “How old is Billy?”
“He's only four, why?”
“Because I ain't got but one horse, so you two can ride while I lead the critter.” Lew said, and then scanned the countryside and sky. Have some rain coming tonight, from the looks of the clouds out west , he thought.
“I don't see a horse.”
“Look, lady, these wagons are still burning and the blood is not empty from some of these bodies, so I ain't got time to answer every damned question you have, because those warriors might come back. Get your boy and come with me, or I'll leave you. This is serious business here.” Lew threatened, but he could never leave a woman in a place like this and he knew it, too.
“I have some meats and dry goods, iffen you want to bring them along. I also have some money, but not much, but it was what John got for our old place.” She knew better than to tell him how much money she carried.
“Lady, all I want, what I really want, is for you to bring your boy and let's get the hell out of here. Now, hand me the food stuff and gun, then you pack the boy. Every second we're here, our lives are in danger.”
“Ain't you going to bury these folks?” she asked as she handed a ham and a tow sack from the wagon.
“No, I ain't. First, there are too many and second, which I've already told you, the warriors might return. Come, and let's go. I want you to keep your mouth shut, until I know we're safe and I tell you when to speak, understand me?”
“Yes I —”
“Nod, but no speaking. Do you understand me?”
She nodded and then he said, “Come, we need to light a shuck out of here and do the job now.”
With the child carried on her left hip and the shotgun in her right hand, they made their way to the top of a small hill and Lew's horse. Once at the animal, he helped her up, handed the boy to her and asked, “What's your name?”
“I'm Susan Ross, and my husband is one of those men butchered down there.”
“I didn't ask about your husband, did I? From now on, keep your talking to questions I ask and don't speak, unless it's a matter of life and death. I'm not a mean man, ma'am, but our lives are riding on us being able to move quickly without Injuns seeing or hearing us. Nod, if you understand me.” He said brusquely.
Sue nodded, so Lew turned and began walking. Like most men of the period, he hated shanks mare, and would ride his horse across a street before he'd walk. Now, well, the current situation and his idea of chivalry wouldn't allow that to happen. He'd walk his legs off before he'd ride and make her walk. As he walked he kept his mind clear of any heavy thoughts, but constantly scanned the countryside as they moved, only he saw nothing.
The day passed uneventfully and it was around a small campfire that evening that Lew said, “Okay, we can talk a bit now, but keep your voice down. Sound carries far on the open plains and I can guarantee you, we are not the only people out here.”
“I dislike being told to shut up like a crying child.” she said, and then crossed her arms over her amble bosom.
“Sue, disliking something is a lot less painful than being killed. Out here it's us against nature, Injuns, worthless men, wild critters, and sicknesses. I'm only one man, so I can only protect us so far, then death will visit. Noise and movement are what draw attention.”
“My name is Susan and not Sue. I understand why you wanted me to be quiet, Mr. Stoner, but it was your tone of voice.”
“Well, get used to it and quickly, too. I don't have time on this trip to explain to you everything that's going on, or explain why I need you to do something. I expect you to act when told to do something and quickly, too.”
“Well, I've never been talked to like this.”
“I suspect you've never been out west before either. Look, I used to be a preacher, but I took up a different line of work recently, and I don't have a mean bone in my body when it comes to women. However, there are times like in war or traveling alone on the plains, that I expect my orders obeyed, instantly. Failure to react quickly enough could get us all killed, just as dead as your husband back there. What were you folks doing out here anyway?”
“John W. heard there was free land out this way and we wanted our share. We'd been living in Boston, but didn't want to raise our son there.”
“Why?”
“Why what? I don't understand your question.”
“What was wrong with Boston? I suspect you're more of a city woman than a settler anyway.”
“I'm a farm girl, actually. Well, maybe not, but I was raised on a plantation down south.”
“Who was the leader of the wagon train, and who had the wagon behind yours?” Lew wanted to find out about the owner of the money he'd found.
“That was Lewis Dunn and his wife. They were an older couple, sixties maybe and no family back east.”
“Are you sure they had no family?”
“Yep, because Lewis said he was lucky he had no family, so he could make the trip and not worry anyone who stayed back home. Most of us mailed letters out at almost every town we stopped at that had a post office, except those two.”
“So, y'all rode wagons from Boston to here?” Lew asked, surprised they'd made it as far as they had.