When he had finished, Sam said, “There is always a certain type of person who wants to knock off the king of the hill, Jamie. You have quite a reputation, and it’s growing, and I fear it will continue to grow as long as you live. For you do nothing to keep a low profile.”
“That’s not my style, Sam.”
Sam grunted. “And naturally, you’re going straight on into the fort.”
“That’s what I came for, Sam.”
“And if I suggested that you camp outside the fort and let us go in and get supplies?”
Jamie smiled and it took years off his still young face. “I would think you had taken leave of your senses, Sam.”
“I believe it was Alexander Pope who wrote that line concerning fools who rush in where angels fear to tread, Jamie.”
Jamie laughed. “You think I’m a fool, Sam.”
“No. I don’t. But you are a family man who has tremendous responsibilities.”
“I’m aware of my responsibilities, Sam. But look at it this way: would you rather have the fighting done at the settlement?”
Sam was silent for a moment. “I see your point,” he finally conceded.
Several trappers that Jamie knew walked over to him as soon as he swung down from the saddle inside the fort. “They’s some bad ones here, Jamie,” one said. “They ain’t come right out and made no direct threats toward you. But several whispers has been heard and they’re up to no good.”
“If you’ve a mind to, we can run them out now,” another said.
“Is Jack Biggers here?” Jamie asked.
“Was. He pulled out a few days ago. But some of his brothers is among them whisperin’. Most of ’em is camped outside the fort. But they’s a bad one still here calls hisself Rodman. Watch him. He’s a sneaky one.”
Rodman was pointed out and Jamie thanked the men and went on about his business. Wells found Jamie in the blanket section of the huge store; the black man was badly shaken.
“What’s wrong, Wells?”
“Poppa’s here, Jamie. And Robert is with him.”
Jamie stood rock still for a moment, as the memories came flooding back. Titus Jefferson, the ex-slave who had pushed his wife Ophelia into whoring for the white plantation owner, and whose union had produced the white twins Roscoe and Anne. Robert, Moses’s son, who had turned bad and run away with Titus and then joined up and begun plotting with Olmstead and Jackson and the others to kill Jamie.
“Did he see you, Wells?”
“Looked right at me but didn’t recognize me. I reckon I have changed some.”
Wells had filled out and matured in the years since his father had deserted family and friends down in the Big Thicket country of Texas. He had grown a moustache and was now all dressed out in homespun britches and buckskin shirt. It was easy to understand why Titus had not recognized him.
While the country was not overflowing with negroes, there were many in the wilderness. A few were free men but most were runaway slaves.
“Well, he’s heard by now that I’m here,” Jamie said. “Let’s see if he approaches me.”
It would have been difficult for Titus and Robert to avoid Jamie within the walls of the fort, and within the hour, Titus and Robert hailed Jamie.
“Can I have a moment of your time, Jamie MacCallister?” Titus said.
Jamie turned and looked at the man. Titus’s hair was now all salt and pepper, and Robert appeared to have matured. Neither man’s eyes held the wild hatred for whites that had been there in Texas. Jamie smiled and stuck out his hand. “Sure, Titus. Good to see you. And you, Robert. Let’s step over into the shade, shall we?”
Both men seemed to relax and the tension went out of them. In the coolness of shade, sitting on a bench, Titus said, “We knew this day would come, and we was both dreadin’ it.”
“No reason to,” Jamie assured them. “I hold no rancor toward either of you. You went down some wrong paths years back, that’s all. Have you found the right paths out here?”
Both men nodded their heads. “We got us a place in a small valley,” Titus said, and then he smiled. “Really, not that many miles from where you and the others have your settlement. But we were afraid to come see you for fear you would kill us.”
“No danger of that, Titus. All that is in the past.”
Robert said, “We both are married, in the Indian way. I have two children.”
“I figured I was too old to start a family,” Titus said. “But Moon Woman thought different. We have two children also.”
“Titus,” Jamie asked, “have you heard news of Roscoe and Anne? They slipped away in the dead of night some time past.”
“I heard they’re in St. Louis, passing for white.” He shook his head sadly. “They’re both talented actors and singers—they’ve made quite a reputation for themselves. They go by the name, Le Beau. I fear they’re in for a terrible time if they’re discovered.”
“How are my mother and father?” Robert asked.
“Healthy and happy. They would be glad to see you.”
“You would not object if we came for a visit?” Titus asked.
“I wouldn’t object if you came to live there. Both of you. It’s a big valley.”
There were tears in the eyes of both men. Jamie pointed to a tall and ruggedly built black man standing in front of the smithy’s shop. “That’s your son, Titus. Wells. He and Sally are married and have a family. You’re a grandfather several times over.”
Titus stared at Wells for a moment and then put his face in his hands and wept.
Jamie patted the man on the shoulder. He waved at Wells and the man hesitantly began the walk over to his father. “Robert, let’s you and me make ourselves scarce for a time. There are some folks I want you to meet.”
Before they had gone fifteen feet, a shout stopped Jamie in the courtyard of the fort. He shoved Robert away from him.
“MacCallister!” the burly man shouted again. “Stand and deliver. You choose to harbor a murderin’ son of a bitch, then pay the price!”
Eighteen
Jamie turned to one side just as the man drew a pistol from his waistband and fired. The ball whistled past Jamie’s head, just missing him by a couple of inches. Jamie was running toward the man as the ball whizzed past him. Before the man could jerk and cock his second pistol, Jamie had closed the distance and flattened the man with a crashing right fist. He reached down and pulled the man’s pistol from him and threw it to one side. The man’s knife followed the pistol two seconds later. Jamie jerked the man to his feet and popped him again and again with powerful lefts and rights to the jaw and face. The man fell to the hard-packed ground and lay still. His face and mouth were bloody from the savage blows.
Jamie stood over the man as the crowd gathered. This was not the man who had been pointed out to him as Rodman. Jamie had never seen this man before in his life.
The mood of the crowd gathering around was ugly, for violence inside the four-foot-thick walls of Bent’s Fort was frowned upon. Outside was an entirely different thing, but inside everybody—white, black, and red—was treated the same and could feel safe.
“Anybody know him?” Jamie asked.
“Aye,” a trapper said. “That’s John Wilmot. He’s a scalawag through and through. A killer. Somebody paid him to do you in, Jamie. John Wilmot only kills for money.”
“Somebody fetch a rope and let’s hang the bastard!” a trapper said.
“Wait!” one of the Bent brothers shouted, running out to the crowd. “They’ll be no lynching here!” He bulled his way through the mass of trappers and Indians and free black men. He looked up at Jamie. “Do you want to have this man bound over for the Army?”
Jamie shook his head. “I want him awake and able to talk. I want to find out why he tried to kill me.”
“Good man,” the Bent brother said, patting Jamie’s arm. He turned to the crowd. “All right, gentlemen. Let’s break it up and see to our business.”
Sam found a bucket of w
ater and dumped it on John Wilmot. The man came awake sputtering and cursing. Jamie reached down, jerked the man to his boots, and literally threw him across the courtyard of the fort. John hit against the side of the men’s quarters, and those trappers who witnessed the scene winced as John slammed into the wall and slumped to the ground.
Jamie strode over nonchalantly and picked up another bucket of water and tossed it onto the prostrate man. John Wilmot’s left arm was bent at an impossible angle and was clearly shattered in several places. Jamie squatted down and spoke in low tones to the man for several minutes, with John seemingly eager to answer each and every question.
Jamie concluded his conversation with, “I’m going to give you a piece of advice, John. And it would behoove you to take it. Leave. Don’t ever come west of the Mississippi River again. But I ’spect I’ll see you again, John Wilmot. But when I do, bear this in mind: if it’s west of the Mississippi, I’ll kill you where you stand and not give a second thought about it. You’ve been warned fair. The rest is up to you.”
Jamie walked away, with Sam and Swede on either side, over to where Wells and his father stood, shoulder to shoulder. Both men had been weeping, for their eyes were red-rimmed. But they had made up, and that was all important. Robert stood with father and son; he, too, had been crying.
“What was that all about, Jamie?” Wells asked.
“More trouble. But this time I had nothing to do with it. I’ll explain later. Let’s get our supplies as quickly as possible and get out of here.”
“It’ll be mid-day tomorrow, Jamie?” Wells said.
“That’s fine. John Wilmot is in no condition to pull anything any time soon. But he has men coming up behind him. They’re still several days out, but closing fast.”
“This has nothing to do with you, Jamie?” Sam asked.
“No. Not directly. It seems one of our newest settlers has a rather dark past. Wiley Harper killed a constable back in Delaware.”
* * *
As soon as the mules and horses were loaded, Jamie and party pulled out. That night, after pushing hard all that afternoon, Jamie explained.
“I had to sort of read between the lines, so to speak,” Jamie said, as the men gathered around the fire. “But I gather that the killing was an accident. Wiley panicked and ran. He and his family were already planning on a move west and were packed and ready to go. They just came a little bit faster than they planned, that’s all. Wiley was a very outspoken man back east and angered some monied people with his comments. I don’t know what he said to anger them, and John Wilmot didn’t know either, or wouldn’t tell me. No matter. Our valley is well-known so we’ve got to be ready for the bounty hunters when they come. And they will come.”
“Jamie,” Swede asked. “This John Wilmot. What did he hope to gain by confronting you?”
“A reputation,” Sam answered that. “There are still bounties on Jamie’s head totaling many, many thousands of dollars. Years ago, just after he and Kate left our community back east, Jamie and Kate ran afoul of the Newby Brothers. They are a large family and they all believe in the blood feud. The kin of the Newbys will never rest until Jamie is dead. The same with the Olmstead family, the Saxons, and a dozen others.” Sam shook his head. “Jamie has made a lot of enemies over the years.”
Jamie said, “I can’t change all that, so I don’t worry about it.”
* * *
Titus and Wells broke off from the pack train two days from the valley to go get their families and possessions. Back in the valley, Jamie informed the others about finding Titus and Robert and that the men and their families were coming to join them. Then he took Wiley Harper aside and told him what had happened back at the fort. Wiley was badly shaken but insisted upon calling for a community meeting. If they wanted him to leave, then he would. Jamie had smiled at that. He knew these people well, and correctly predicted the outcome of the meeting. It was unanimous—Wiley and his family would stay.
Within a few days, the people in the valley had put the incident behind them and welcomed Titus and Robert and their families. All began making preparations for the double wedding, the first in the valley. But double wedding or no, there was ground to be broken and crops to plant, for the summer’s growing season was short and everybody had to work. There were calves and lambs to be born, sheep to sheer, berries to be picked for jams and jellies and homemade wine. There was much to be done during the warm summer months.
Titus and Robert and their families moved in, built their cabins, and immediately fit right in with the community. Moon Woman and She Who Watches, both of whom were Cheyenne, spoke very good English and were accepted without question.
Kate, looking at Jamie one evening as they sat in the dog trot of their cabin, wondered aloud about his quiet smile.
“We’ve done it, Kate. Right here in this valley. We have proven that people of all creeds and all colors can live and work together peacefully. Back in the States, people are buying and selling human beings like so many cattle, chaining them like wild animals and, in many cases, working them to death. Back in the States, entire tribes of Indians are being either moved or wiped out. With no one taking the time to try to understand the feelings of the other. But here in this valley, it seems that we have made the impossible easy. It’s both amusing and sad.”
Kate hid her own smile. How to tell her husband that the people in the valley knew that Jamie expected everyone to get along and would accept no less than that? How to tell him that while the people in the community held him in high respect, they were also a little afraid of him? He would never have believed any of that.
“Yes, dear,” she said.
* * *
It was to be an outdoor wedding, and the day was warm and beautiful for the ceremony. Jamie had ordered a black suit for his oldest son, and it had arrived just in the nick of time, with Jamie’s grandfather bringing it from Bent’s Fort. Silver Wolf was dressed in white buckskins, all beaded and fringed. The old man looked as magnificent and fierce as an eagle.
Jamie Ian’s starched high white collar was chafing his neck, and the stiff new shoes hurt his feet, but he knew better than to say anything about it. Jamie Ian was nearabout the size of his pa, but the young man knew full well his pa would still not hesitate to haul him off behind the house and wallop the hell out of him.
Jamie Ian had not seen Linda all day, and Bill had not seen Ellen Kathleen; something to do with tradition. The altar was adorned with fresh flowers, and little girls held baskets of petals, waiting to toss them on the path where the couples would walk. Falcon was the ring bearer, and he, too, was dressed in a new suit his pa had ordered for him, complete with high stockings and knee-length britches. Falcon had set up a howl when he saw the suit, but one look from his pa was all it took to convince the four-year-old boy he’d better calm down and act right.
Almost three months had passed since Jamie’s confrontation with John Wilmot at Bent’s Fort, and the incident had been all but forgotten by everybody except Jamie. Just before the ceremony was to begin, Jamie walked to his Grandpa’s side.
“You armed, Grandpa?”
“I got two pistols under my shirt. Why?”
“I believe in staying ready, that’s why.”
“There ain’t been hide nor hair seen of Wilmot, Parsons, Biggers, Sanders, Winslow, or Thompson in some time, boy.” The old man was silent for a moment. “But today would be good time for them to hit here, wouldn’t it?”
“A dandy time. How come Preacher couldn’t make it?”
“He’s doing some government work. Sparks is up in Canada, and Lobo and Audie both said they always cry at weddin’s and that wouldn’t seem manly. But they sent their best.”
“I got a bad feelin’ in my guts, Grandpa.”
“That’s ’cause your oldest is gettin’ hitched up, boy. It’s an important time for all concerned.” He grinned. “We gonna give ’em a evenin’ surprise, ain’t we?”
Jamie smiled. “You bet. Just as soon as
their cabin lights go out this evenin’, we have some fun.”
“Here comes the brides. My, my, ain’t they pretty?”
And the girls were beautiful. Their dresses were sparkling white and there were flowers in their hair. Most of the women started crying softly, and some of the men started clearing their throats . . . a lot. All eyes, including those of Jamie, were on the two youthful couples standing in front of Reverend Haywood. The harpsichord had been carefully carried outside, and Sarah was softly playing.
For the occasion, Jamie was dressed in a suit made for him by Kate—since no store-bought suit would fit his massive shoulders and arms—and he was wearing handmade boots a cobbler over to the fort had done up for him. His grandfather was also wearing new boots, and that was the reason neither of them felt the earth start to gently pound under their feet.
The attackers had waited until the entire community had gathered outside, with everybody laughing and talking and having a good time before they had slipped in close, with cloth sacks over their horses’ hooves to muffle the sound.
The attackers, led by John Wilmot and including some of the Biggers gang and some of the Winslow trash, were only a few hundred yards away when they burst out of the timber and started their wild charge toward the settlement. They had the reins in their teeth and both hands filled with pistols.
Jamie heard the pounding of hooves and spun around just as the minister had smiled, closed his Bible, and announced that the boys could kiss their wives.
Silver Wolf shouted, “To arms, men!” and jerked both pistols out from under his shirt.
Jamie cursed and pulled both pistols from his waistband and shouted, “Kids, see to your mother, quick now! Everybody to cover.”
There was no more time for talk as the settlement was filled with galloping, wild-eyed, rearing horses and the smash and roar of guns.
Jamie blew two attackers from their horses just as his Grandpa did the same with two others. Out of the corner of his eye, Jamie saw Wiley Harper go down with a ball in the center of his forehead. Two of the attackers leaned out of the saddle and grabbed him before he could hit the earth and went galloping off, Wiley’s feet dragging the ground.
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