by W. R. Benton
“We did, and only the last few miles were difficult. Franklin, leader of another wagon, found sign of Injuns, or so he said a few days back. I can see now that he really had, but at the time everyone laughed at him and called him a fool.”
“Why? Didn't y'all realize how dangerous it was?”
“No, not really. To most of us it was a picnic and adventure. It wasn't until I saw the smoke, returned to the wagons, and saw all the dead that I realize it was my worst nightmare come true. I was hundreds of miles from safety, had a baby with me, and I was all alone.”
“You were in a very serious situation, which is why I told you to hobble your lip and keep quiet. I still worry about us returning safely. One man can't protect much more than himself and then it's a maybe.”
“Oh, I can take care of myself.” she replied defensively.
“Susan, when you pointed that shotgun at me, you didn't even cock the hammer back. You've never shot a gun before, have you?”
She lowered her eyes and replied, “No, never. I thought just seeing that big gun would scare you.”
Giving a low chuckle, Lew replied, “At first the big gun got my attention, but when I noticed it wasn't cocked and you weren't holding it ready to shoot, I relaxed. The stock of that gun would have knocked you on your butt, little lady, had you pulled the trigger.”
“I was terrified, because I had no idea who you were.” Sue said, and then lowered her head.
“Why weren't you and little Billy killed when the Sioux struck the wagon train?”
“Every morning I'd take Billy for a walk so he could do his morning business, and I could look for dandelion greens, which I added to our supper. At times, I'd take the shotgun and look for rabbits, but I didn't know how to use the gun, not really. John W. made me take it, insisting I not leave the train unarmed at any time.”
“Well, your John W. meant well, but since he didn't learn you how to use the gun, all you were packing was a heavy club.”
She nodded.
“I didn't see no men near your age dead back there, or did I miss your husband?” Lew asked.
“My John W. was much older than me, but that's not uncommon these days.”
“No, not at all. I've seen men married to women twenty years older than them and women your age married to men over sixty. Sometimes there ain't many potential mates to choose from.” He poured a cup of coffee, and then extended the pot toward her.
“No, I've had enough coffee. John W. was wearing a red shirt and white hat.”
Lew suddenly remembered the man, and he'd taken a spear to the chest at some point and was mutilated like the rest. The preacher had not seen the red shirt, so it was likely some buck took a liking to the color, and carried it off. He had seen the white hat and now wondered why anyone would wear red or white on the frontier. Seemed pretty stupid to him, while he wore earth tones to blend in, not stand out. His canvas jeans were black, his shirt a brown homespun, and his hat, a darker brown. Even his horse was brown, because to be seen usually meant to be killed.
“Ma'am, if that was your husband, he had to be pushing seventy years old.”
“John W. was seventy-one. I married him three months back, after Billy's father died in a horse race, of all things.”
“Horse race? Well, now, don't that beat all!”
“Frank had been drinking heavily, and during the race he fell from his mount, breaking his neck. I had no money, no needed skills, and no place to go, not with my family all dead. John W. helped me through the bad times and then made me his wife.”
“I see.”
“It's not what you think, sir. Many marriages these days take into consideration necessity and not so much love. He was a loving and gentle man, in all ways.”
Lew shrugged, because whatever John W. had been didn't matter much to him now; he was dead.
Then, staring into the flickering flames, she said, “But, he was too old to be a real man to me.”
“I figured that much out, and little Billy is too old to have been his child.”
“I apologize, Mr. Stoner, I barely know you, and here I am feeding you personal information.”
He gave a low laugh and once sober said, “I've heard it all, believe me, as a preacher man. Anything you tell me is safe. I don't think much matters as long as the couple love each other.”
“Oh, I didn't love John W., only he didn't deserve to die like he did, killed by savages.”
“God made that decision, not man. I can understand how a man or woman can be with someone they don't love, except I think God frowns on that.”
“Do you really think so? I don't see where either of us did anything wrong. We needed each other and we did well together, for the short time God gave us. I am not a whore, Mr. Stoner, and John W. never touched me that way.”
Smiling at her, Lew said, “Then, ma'am, he was a fool.”
Uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going, Susan said, “We shared a life together, but nothing else. But now, with him dead, I have money, but never expected things to end up like this.”
“I don't imagine you did, really. Life is full of surprises. I returned home after a month of preaching and found my place destroyed, and my family murdered. In less than an hour, my whole life was changed.”
“Oh, my God, when did that happen?”
“A few months back, and I've been looking for their killers ever since.”
“Have you found any of them?”
“A few, but most are still running loose.”
“What, uh, did you do to those you found?”
“I killed them, without mercy, my dear.”
Susan stood, wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and said, “I'm calling it a night. Baby Billy is asleep, so I'm going to join him. G'night, Mr. Stoner.”
“Good night.” Lew replied and tossed another dried cow patty on the flames.
After she left, he thought about her marriage and how she'd married a much older man to survive life, and to hopefully to make her life better. Now she was alone again, just like him. He knew the good Lord had a good sense of humor or half the things that happened to folks would never happen. She sure is a pretty little thing , he thought and then unknowingly smiled.
Chapter 10
DUTCH moved to the door and cracked it open. Seeing a young black man with the whiskey he said, “You must be the man with my drink.”
“I am, sir. My name is George, so if you need anything let me or another member of the hotel staff know.”
Guns went back in their holsters as Dutch opened the door wide and the young man entered. He placed the whiskey on a dresser and smiled when he was tipped two bits by Bill.
“Thank ya kindly for the tip.”
“You're welcome.” Bill said, and then picked up a bottle and broke the seal.
George, seeing his task was complete, left the room. Sam locked the door behind the young man and said, “Pour me about three fingers worth. I have some serious trail dust to get shed of.”
“We all have some dust to wash down.” Dutch said, and then grinned.
“What next? I mean, we're right back where we started, and I'm not real comfortable being here.” Bill asked.
“We leave in the morning and head south, toward Missouri.”
“Why?” Sam asked as he looked over the rim of his glass.
“I'm thinking of getting lost in Saint Louis and ain't crazy about the idea, not really. I may take my share and go down river to New Orleans.”
“They sure got some pretty women down that way.” Bill said.
“It's a good town too, if a man has money. Hell, you can disappear in Saint Louis or New Orleans and never be found.” Dutch said and then knocked his drink back. He poured another.
“Well, we need to split up, and soon, too. We keep ridin' together and we'll get caught.” Sam said.
“We do need to start getting separate rooms and such. I don't think anyone is on to us yet, but they might be.”
“I'm hungry.” Sam said.
Pulling his pocket watch, Dutch said, “It's close to five, so let's find a saloon with some finger food. Hell, a feller can make a supper out of fried fish, biscuits, and a couple of beers.”
Slapping his hat on, Sam said, “By God, I'm ready.”
At the saloon, things were quiet as the men ate and made small talk. Bill discussed how they needed to break apart and make their own ways, or eventually they'd get caught. Dutch had the same thoughts, only he didn't want to separate, at least not yet. He wanted to hit a stage on the way out of town, split the money, and then have each man go on his own way.
Taking a quick sip of his beer, Dutch said, “There's a shipment of gold double eagles leaving here in the morning heading south to Kansas City or so I heard tell. I think we should hit it, separate, and then meet again in Saint Louis.”
“How far out of town do you want to do the job?”
“I'm thinking about halfway between here and Kansas City. It'll give the men in the stage time to get bored, drink a little whiskey, and the men on top will be no better. It's a long ride, and through some rough Injun country, too.”
“How come we didn't see any stations on the way up here?” Sam asked.
“Because, if you remember, we avoided the main road. We leave two hours before first light in the morning, move fast, and hit the stage when their horses are tired, too. Forty thousand dollars will add a great bit to what we already have, and we'll be able to retire in style.”
“You've really thought this out, huh?” Bill said from around a large piece of fish he was chewing on.
“I learned about it yesterday morning in this saloon from loose talk from two Yankee soldiers. It's all ours for the taking.” Dutch replied.
“Ya reckon it's good information?” Bill asked, and then gulped down his beer.
Pulling a cigar from his coat, Dutch said, “The talk was between a Command Sergeant Major and full Colonel, so yeah, it's good info.”
As the man lit his cigar, Samuel said, “I'm sure we have enough supplies, gear and food to get us to Kansas City easily enough.”
“Back in the room we'll split all we have three ways. I expect the robbery to go well, but there might be some army troopers in the coach. Once we take the money and run, we'll meet at the Ritz Hotel in Saint Louis, oh, say in a month.”
“Sounds good to me,” Sam said and then added, “so let's get back to the room and clean our gear and guns, so we can make an early start.” He popped a whole boiled egg in his mouth.
“You eat one more egg and I'm getting another room for the night.” Bill said and then grinned, because he always teased Sam about eating eggs. He was excited about the $40,000 and knew the other two were as well.
They were up and gone way before any rooster would crow, and covering miles. This time they stayed on the main road, except Bill rode a ways back, to cover their rears. Dutch said if the first two were stopped and questioned, he was told to ride right on by them. He was then to circle around and return, in the event it came to a shooting. They were still wanted for their earlier robbery and to get caught now would mean a long stretch in the federal pen, if not a hanging. The coppers frowned on finding murdered security guards.
Near dusk, the men met, moved away from the road and made camp in a dry stream bed. Supper was cornbread, fried fatback, and beans. Samuel always traveled with a mess of navy or pinto beans soaking in a fruit jar. Coffee was placed on the buffalo pie fire to boil, as Dutch pulled a fifth of rye.
Pulling the cork and taking one long swig, he grinned and tossed it to Bill, so Bill took his drink and handed the bottle to Samuel.
“Just one pull on the joy juice, boys, because we'll have some work to do by the end of the week. If we live that long.”
“If we live that long; now what in the hell is that supposed to mean?” Bill asked, and then blinked.
“Huh?” Sam said and almost dropped the bottle.
“Earlier this afternoon, I cut sign of about twelve unshod horses moving east and all were packing weight.”
Tossing the bottle to Dutch, Sam said, “Drinkin' after seein' sign like that is jes plain stupid. I don't want no more whiskey.”
“One drink won't hurt and after we eat, we'll ride down the trail a couple of miles and have a cold camp. I figure those Injuns are long gone by now. Our fire is small enough, but the smell of that pork will stay in the air for hours.”
“You don't think the Injuns are after the money, do you?”
“Hell, Bill, what in the world would a tribe of Injuns do with all that money? They don't have any use for gold coin, but they might wear them in their ears. No, money they don't need, son, but we surely do.”
Bill was grinning when a Sioux arrow took him high in the left shoulder. He staggered, almost falling into the flames, but Samuel grabbed him and pulled him down roughly to the sand of the stream bed. He began to scream because when pulled down hard, the arrow was pushed through his shoulder.
“How many out there?” Sam asked.
“Now, you know I can't see in the dark, but I'd guess at least twelve. Bill, shut the hell up. If you wanna live, you'd better get ready to fight come daylight.”
“Sam . . . damned near . . . caused me to . . . pass out. Pushed that . . . damned arrow the rest . . . of the way through.”
“Next time, I'll just let ya burn to death.” Sam said, and then tossed the whiskey to the moaning man.
“Drink just enough to kill your pain.” Dutch added.
“Do ya think they'll attack us tonight or wait 'til dawn?” Sam asked; in the poor moonlight, his fear was clearly seen.
“Hard to say, boys, but sleep lightly. Then again, I've never known full grown Injuns to shoot a man with a bow or gun and not charge them right after.”
“Do ya reckon . . . it's kids out to steal horses?” Bill said and noticed he didn't have nearly the amount of pain he had earlier.
“Move over here, where I can patch you up.” Dutch said, pulled his big knife.
“By the light of that fire?”
“I can't work on you without light, now can I? I think all the brave that put that arrow into you saw was your upper body. Stay low as I work and I'll have you done in a minute or two.” Dutch replied and then stuck his Bowie knife in the flames.
“Crap, you goin' to burn me?”
“Ain't no other way to do the job that I know of that'll keep you from bleeding to death.”
“I reckon there ain't, but for God's sake, feed me some laudanum first.”
“Look, I can't do that. There are only three of us and we don't know how many Sioux are out there. If the brown stuff hits the stump, we'll need your guns.”
“I think they're just kids out for horses.” Bill replied.
Dutch took Bill's knife, as his heated in the small fire, and cut his shirt off. As he worked, he said, “Keep in mind a young Sioux boy can kill you, and we've had this talk before.”
“I hear ya.”
“Your knife blade is nice and red, so are you ready?”
Samuel tossed a sheet of rawhide and once it was in his hands, Bill said, “Let's get this over with, but you know I'll pass out.”
“That's fine, now roll that rawhide up and stick it between your teeth.”
Once the leather was in place, Bill closed his eyes and began whispering a prayer. Here he was, a big robber and killer, praying to God to save him from the pain of a hot knife. Even Dutch had to smile.
The leader finally pulled the knife blade from the flames and it shimmered in his hand as he stuck the flat against the entry hole.
There came a slight puff of smoke when the blade touched skin. Bill started to scream and jerk viciously, but the pain was so intense, he passed out. Leaning the man forward, the hot knife was then pushed against the exit and it was still hot enough to melt flesh like butter. This time, there was hardly any reaction from the patient at all. He simply gave a low moan and then slipped to the ground limply. He was still unco
nscious, but his breathing was deep and even.
“Keep your eyes open now, Sam, because we're down to only the two of us. I'm sure they smell the burnt flesh and hope they think their medicine is bad this night.”
“Why would they think somethin' like that? It don't make no sense to me a-tall.”
“Injuns are notional folks, Sam. I just don't like the idea of having to wait all night to see if we'll fight and it could very well happen. However, if it's kids after their first horse, we'll soon know.”
“What make's ya say that?” Sam was now scanning the darkness, looking for movement.
“Young bucks will want to get our mounts and get home before daylight, so when the village wakes up, the new horses are in the corral. Well that's what an old man who claimed to be a mountain man once said.”
“Sounds like hogwash to me, but I'll admit, I don't know much 'bout no Injuns, 'specially kids, red or white.”
“I have movement on our left.” Dutch said and cocked his rifle.
“Yep, I got some on my side too, so they'll try to overrun us iffen they can.”
“We'll be fine as long as neither of us gets hurt.”
There came a loud shot from Sam, followed by a piercing scream, and then a war cry. Dark forms rushed the three white men. Both Dutch and Sam began knocking warriors down, except in the dark it was hard to tell if the shots hit anything or not. Both were excellent marksmen, with Samuel a little better, but not by much.
A dozen arrows struck the stream bed and while neither man was struck, it caused a great deal of panic. The movement in the front went to ground and disappeared. Dutch had just turned to check behind them when he spotted two warriors moving in fast at a run.
He fired once, missed and screamed, “Behin—”
A young warrior struck him hard, knocking both of them to the sand and rock stream bed. He heard a shot from Sam and then heard the man fire twice more, but in a different direction. Around and around Dutch and the warrior rolled, until finally, the white man bucked the young brave from him. They both stood, the white man pulled his knife, and then there was a gunshot. In the dim moonlight, black looking blood, white bone, and gore splattered out of the young brave's back and he fell like a rag doll to the sandy stream bed. Little could be seen in the inky darkness, so Dutch moved to the warrior and cut his throat. More than once in the war he'd almost been killed by a man whom he'd assumed was dead. However, there had been no movement or choking when the nasty deed was done, so he knew the young man was gone.