Ew. I can understand the sentiment. “Well, he’s out now. So, if he winds up dead before I get back, you will be the first to die.” He turns, leaves, locks the door to the cell-room, and closes the door to the office behind him. He rushes over to the cavalry camp.
Just inside the perimeter of the camp, he encounters a sentry. Coming to a halt right in front of the sentry, John says, “I need someone to help separate some prisoners. Can we get a trooper assigned to me for a few minutes? I just want to make sure they don’t get too ornery.”
The sentry looks at him a moment, turns and yells, “Turner! Grab your gun and come here!”
A moment later, a young soldier comes running up, hurriedly latching his gun belt. He snaps a salute before asking, “Sir?” and continues tying down the leg straps to his holster.
“The marshal here, needs your help.” The sentry motions to John, indicating he should go with the older man.
John looks at the young soldier. “I just want to make sure these prisoners don’t escape while I separate them.”
The soldier nods. “Lead the way, sir.”
John turns and leads the young man. “I don’t believe I know you, son.”
“Trooper Jackson Turner, sir. I rode to the south creek, with Lt. Guthrie.”
“Ah. I’d heard you boys had some gun-play. I’m confused, though. How is it your troop didn’t happen to kill anyone?”
“We were ordered not to shoot, unless we see who we’re shooting at. Lt. Guthrie ordered us to hold our ammo until it was a sure shot.”
John sighs disconsolately. It makes sense, but I’d hoped someone would bring that boy’s body in. There are fewer people able to do what is needed than I’d thought. “Well, while it seems prudent, I think that may turn into saddle sores before long. Ah, well. Here we are.” John enters the door to the office, unlocks the cell-room door, and walks in.
As he steps inside, he is greeted by an almost comical sight. The prisoner who choked out the other was standing guard over his victim. John snorts. How ironic it is that he was able to get his bluff in. The prisoners are all backed up toward the back wall, apparently afraid of the man facing them.
“Well, we only have the two cells. Do you want those prisoners to come after you, or do you want to share the cell with the man you said tried to take advantage of you?” John asks the aggressive man archly.
“He’s not gonna wake up for a day or two. If he does, I’ll put him back to sleep,” comes the reply.
“Remember, if he dies, you die first.”
“Yeah, I know.”
John motions to Turner to pull his gun and be at the ready. He pulls the cell keys out and unlocks the cell door. “ Alright, I’m moving him, so git outta the way.”
The prisoner moves forward. John is able to drag the inert body out of the cell into the other, then says, “Go ahead.”
The prisoner backs out and moves into the other cell. John hurriedly closes and locks both cell doors. He looks at everyone and says, “Alright everyone. Get some sleep. We’re leaving for Norman at first light.”
He turns, closes and locks the door much to their dismay. He understands their fear. As long as they are here, there is little likelihood they will be tried. Now, though, a hanging looks in each of their futures.
“Sir? Did you need me anymore?” the soldier asks hesitantly.
“No. Thank you for the help. I will be riding out with the troop in the morning. I will see you then.” John ushers the soldier out the door of the office, locks it, and returns back to the desk.
He puts his feet up and leans back in his chair. His eyes droop closed as he stares into the fire in the stove.
Chapter 40
John and Josh have been able to remain incognito throughout the rest of the war. They bounce between western Arkansas, northwestern Louisiana, and southwestern Missouri.
They spend their time fur trapping and generally avoiding people. It came as no surprise when they found out the south had surrendered.
It is the summer of ‘67 when the two young men ride back into Tahlequah. They are notified that Chief Sitting Elk was killed in the Battle of Boggy Depot and that, due to their involvement with the burning of Lawrence, Kansas, they were no longer welcome in the tribe. In fact, they’re told that they have until sundown three days hence to leave the tribal lands. If they ever return, it would be under the pain of death.
So they go west. They make it as far as Ft. Cobb, before they come across a wagon train that has been destroyed.
They dig through the wreckage, looking for anything that could help them identify the victims. There was nothing. They spend the next several hours burying the dead and ride on, making it to just outside Ft. Cobb, before they get stopped by a troop of cavalry.
Josh calls out to the troopers, trying to tell them about the wagon train. They surround the two men, weapons at the ready.
A cavalry lieutenant rides up and calls out, “Dismount. Ye’re under arrest!”
“For what charge?” demands John.
“Tha murder of over a dozen white settlers. We saw ya leavin’ tha scene of tha crime.”
“You’re an idiot. How could we lay waste to that train, when it’s just the two of us? Better yet, why would we?”
“Ya will dismoun, or ya will be shot where ya are!”
Both men dismount and allow themselves to be bound. They are escorted into the fort itself, where they are held over for trial.
Two days after their capture, the two young men stand on one side of a table in front of a military tribunal headed by a Capt. Walters.
The lieutenant that captured them is the one that presents the charges. The two young men are charged with fifteen counts of murder, ten counts of theft, and two counts of horse rustling.
When they are allowed to speak for themselves, John stands to address the court. “Why would we take the time to bury the dead if we attacked them?” He spreads his hands in confusion. “For that matter, if we stole anything, where is what we stole? We didn’t have time to hide anything. How can we be charged with theft when we have none of the stolen items on us?”
Capt. Walters holds his hand up in a placating gesture. “You were arrested on these charges, as you were in the area at the time of the attack.”
Josh elbows John in the leg. John sits down and crosses his arms.
Josh stands to address the court. “Gentlemen. I understand how this looks. We really were just trying to do the right thing and bury their dead. We couldn’t find any documents to identify them by. We were just quite literally in the wrong place at the wrong time. How can we clear up this misunderstanding?”
The lieutenant that captured them knocks his chair over standing so quickly. “T’hat wagon train had ma wife on it! Ya and yer friends killt t’hem all! I’ll see ya hang for t’heir murders!”
John surreptitiously pulls the knife he has secreted inside his shirt.
Josh looks at the lieutenant. “We came upon the scene after the attackers left! How old is your wife?”
“She was twenty-four.”
“The only women we buried were either a lot older or a lot younger. If you track the war party, you might be able to save her yet.”
“T’hen where did yer friends go?”
Josh’s face get crimson in his frustration. “Why do you think we’re with the party that attacked them?” he demands.
“Ye’re injuns, ain’t ya?”
“Actually, we’re white,” drawls John. “We’ve been staying with the Cherokee out by Tahlequah.”
Capt. Walters uses the butt of his pistol as a “gavel”. “Enough, gentlemen. Lt. Lonargan, can you disprove any of their claims?”
Lonargan sighs, crosses his arms and shakes his head. “One of our scouts saw t’hem finishing tha last burial and ride on. We caught t’hem jes outside o’ town.”
John jumps to his feet. “He has no proof we attacked them!”
Capt. Walters bangs his “gavel” once more. “Order! Ord
er! I say!”
Both the prosecutor and John turn towards the tribunal.
Walters stands and says in a controlled voice, “We will conduct ourselves as gentlemen. If you do not sit down and behave yourselves, I will have you bound and gagged. Do I make myself clear?”
Both men now thoroughly cowed, seat themselves at their respective tables.
“Now. I believe we have a solution in place, if you are willing to listen to the idea?”
All three men stare at Walters.
He pauses a moment, seemingly for dramatic effect and points to Josh and then John. “You two can track, yes?”
They both nod.
“Then you will lead the expedition to hunt down those animals that attached that wagon train. This will help convince Lonargan here, that you had nothing to do with it. It will also help serve the goals of the cavalry here, as well. Do you agree to what I propose?”
The two young men look at each other a moment, nod, and turn back towards Walters.
Josh says, “Sure. Under one condition. We are leading the troop. We may not be members of the tribe that attacked them, but we are experts in tracking the movements of different members of the different tribes. We aren’t Indian scouts. We were both sergeants in the army and expect to be treated as such.”
Walters looks at them a moment and asks, “What unit were you last with?”
Josh squares his shoulders, looks Walters in the eye and says with pride in his voice, “First Cherokee Mounted Rifles, Lighthorse Division.”
Capt. Walters looks surprised at the tone he uses. He clears his throat. “Okay. So, since you two are familiar with the ways of the Redskins, you will be leading the expedition.”
John has been expecting this. They can still keep an eye on us but have access to our experience. Well, they’re gonna find out how much benefit we can really be.
Lt. Lonargan stands and begins to protest. Capt. Walters holds his hand up once more. “We will discuss this while the troop makes ready, lieutenant.” He bangs his "gavel". “This tribunal is now concluded.” He bangs the "gavel" once more.
The tribunal rises and leaves the chow hall. Walters and Lonargan approach each other and start talking in strong tones to each other.
Having been apparently left to their own devices, John and Josh leave the chow hall. They go to the stabling yard and start getting their horses ready for the trip.
About half an hour later, they are approached by Capt. Walters. John notices he is carrying their gun-belts and guns.
Capt. Walters says, “You boys are gonna need these. Lonargan has agreed to give you the benefit of a doubt, so you may want to make sure you are on your best behavior.” He smirks at John. “I have a good sense of people. I’m not worried about you two. You will need to be careful of Lonargan, though. His hatred of the red man is rather excessive.” He hands each one a gun-belt, then leaves.
The two young men trade belts, both being familiar with their own equipment. Once they belt their weapons on, they mount their horses and ride out to meet the rest of the troop.
Two days later, the troop is riding behind John, as Josh scouts ahead. The trail was several days old, but they were able to find it again. John is glad Josh is there, since he’s the better tracker. Lonargan has been refusing to call them by title, but is willing to allow the two young men to lead the troop.
Josh has been gone for more than two hours this time. John has a feeling they are getting close, but doesn’t want to make troop worry. Nervous men make stupid mistakes.
Just as they top a rise, John sees Josh resting by the base of a tree, drinking from his canteen. He orders a halt and rides over to his friend.
“I found ‘em,” Josh says simply, as John approaches.
“Caddo?”
“Yeah, Arapaho. They are holding some kind of ceremony. I couldn’t quite get close enough to hear what they were yelling, but I could tell they had ceremonial garb on. I also saw what looks to be numerous prisoners. At least, that’s what they look like.”
John sighs and takes a swig from his own canteen. They are getting close to redeeming themselves in the eyes of the army. “So, were you able to see the captives? How well are they being treated?”
Josh nods slowly. “It looks like there are some captured Indian kids with them. Also, it looks like there are several children, mostly unharmed, but several of the adults have gone through a lot.”
John catches the tone in his voice. “Think Lonargan is gonna be able to keep his cool?”
“We’re gonna have to keep a close eye on him. C’mon, let’s go give him the good news.”
Both men ride back to the troop at a pace that didn’t raise noise or dust, giving away their position.
When they advised Lonargan that the camp was found, it took John, Josh, and a certain Sargent Lewis to keep him from ordering a punitive attack against the entire camp. Finally, John gets the lieutenant to come around to the idea that his wife will die in the massacre just as quickly as the rest of the camp.
They wait until evening and move to surround it in loose skirmish line. When night begins to fall, John, Josh, and the lieutenant swing around to where the prisoners are being held.
As they approach the camp, they see one of the braves drunkenly make his way from the campfire to the holding area for the prisoners. The three men keep to the shadows and increase their pace.
Just as they get close enough to see all the prisoners, John sees the drunk Arapaho approach a young white woman. Other than being bruised and desperately in need of a bath, she is achingly beautiful. She is also unconscious.
There is a young girl right next to her, crying in her fear. John sees the Arapaho reach the young woman. He touches her leg, which wakes her up. She sees the man and screams in terror. John hears the mocking laughter of the rest of the warriors in the camp.
The three men draw their guns as one and silently rush in to the camp. Lonargan is the first to reach the attacker. He approaches the man from behind and knocks him out with a smart rap across the back of the skull with the butt of his pistol.
The woman continues to scream, this time out of confusion, not fear. The little girl, rooted to her place in terror, screams, “DA!”
Lonargan turns and starts shooting at the people close to the campfire.
With a curse, John takes cover close-by, next to a stack of boxes and starts shooting as well. Josh scoops up the little girl and and takes her with him as he finds cover close by. Once the shooting starts, the young woman faints.
The people close to the campfire, in their drunkenness, are slow to respond. When John opens fire, the troopers open fire into the rest of the camp.
John hears the screams and cries of the rest of the prisoners over the gunfire. He empties his revolver, noting there appears to only be one or two more people standing. He ducks under his cover of the wooden boxes more deeply while he changes cylinders. He peeks around the edge of the box to see the last man close to the fire fall. He calls out, “All clear?”
There is the sound of people moving into the camp, checking it out. John stands, hearing the response from several troopers yelling, “All clear!”
He turns and confronts Lonargan. “Just what was that?”
“I wes savin’ ma wife and daughter from losing t’heir purity ta t’hat animal!” comes the reply through gritted teeth.
“I don’t mean hitting him!” John points to the unconscious man, then points to the bodies around the campfire. “I mean shooting at them!”
“T’hose animals almost killed ma family! T’hey are worse t’han tha Anglish! T’hey all deserve ta die!”
“Well, except for this one, they DID all die.” John shakes his head. He looks down at Lonargan’s wife, who, in the firefight, fainted. Mrs. Lonargan is stunning, even though it is obvious she has been through her fair share of trouble.
Apparently, John is gazing at the woman, a second or two, too long as Lt. Lonargan scowls and demands, “If ye’re done gawkin�
�� at ma wife?”
John turns and smiles at the outraged man. “I’m not staring. Just checking for bullet holes.” He turns at a sound and sees Josh carrying the young girl back to her parents.
When Josh sets the young girl down, she runs over to her mother, checks her out a moment, then runs off again. John sees her talking to a young Indian girl in hushed tones a moment, before they embrace each other, and walk back side-by-side holding hands.
Lt. Lonargan is still glaring at John.
John looks back at him impudently. “Was there something else?” he asks archly.
“Leave ma family alone,” he replies in a hateful tone.
“Then see to them, rather than acting like an idiot.”
The lieutenant’s response is cut off by the approach of the two young girls. After glancing at his daughter, the lieutenant’s frown deepens into a scowl.
“Jes wha do ya t’hink ya are doin’ wit’ t’hat mongrel, Aisling?” he demands.
“She’s my friend, da!” the young girl responds in her piping voice.
He stands up and roughly yanks his daughter away from the young Indian girl. “Get away from t’hat filt’hy animal. No child o’ mine will be friends wit’ t’hose beasts.”
The young Indian girl looks at the lieutenant and his daughter, then starts crying softly. John kneels beside the young girl and places a hand on her shoulder. She says something in a language John doesn’t understand.
“I’m sorry, child. I don’t understand what you’re saying,” he says gently to her.
“Why he so mad, me? I not hurt him?” she asks in a barely audible voice.
“I’m sorry. He doesn’t like any Indians at all. You might want to stay away from him for a little while. He is just hurting from being scared and may calm down eventually.”
The girl’s crying begins getting harder and she runs off toward one of the other captives John can’t see too well. After a moment of discussion, a young man stands and approaches.
When he gets close enough, he says, “Sister says you tell her to stay away from friend. Why being so mean?”
“I’m not saying anything, other than to give her friend’s father some time to calm down.”
The Marshal of Denver Page 20