Scott rode back to the creek bank where Pat was brewing some coffee. “What do you think?”
“I’m thinking Josh is either in really big trouble or a very lucky man.” He held up his hand as Scott started to say something, “Have some coffee lad. You asked me, now let me explain.” Pat and Scott squatted by the almost smokeless fire and drank their coffee. Pat continued, “This Injun could have killed him at any time. T’would have been easy with Josh’s condition. But he didn’t. He followed him for a long distance. Indians respect courage. And this one saw great courage in Josh’s determination to continue. He might be taking him to heal the lad, if that’s even possible. Of course, it’s wrong I’ve been before. But I’m thinking I’m right this time.” Pat sipped his coffee as he stared into the fire.
“Yep, sure could be,” Scott said. “Although he just might be taking Josh to his camp to have a little fun. You’re right about one thing. They do respect courage. But they also prolong the death of brave men. The Injun believes it makes him stronger. But having said that, I sure hope you’re right.”
“Aye. We best be going, if it’s the ranch we’ll be reaching tomorrow.”
While Pat scattered the fire, pouring the remaining coffee over it, then kicking dirt over the sticks, Scott took the saddle horses down to the creek to drink and brought water up to the team. After they had a chance to drink, Scott brought the saddle horses up the embankment and tied his horse to the wagon. “Pat, how about I drive the wagon for a while.”
The Irishman handed over the reins. “I’m beholden to you. My rear was getting almighty tired of that wagon seat.”
They turned out of the timber and headed for the ranch.
Ruffcarn hadn’t slept well. It wasn’t that the bed was uncomfortable; he’d slept in a lot worse. He just couldn’t shut down his mind. His partnership in New Orleans with Pierce proved to be massively profitable. The guns they sold to the south established friendships that they both needed and also brought in huge profits. They had branched out into real estate and had done well. It was like they were money magnets. Their connection with that United States Army Major, now a colonel, was a stroke of genius. Yes, they had to split their gun-running profits with the colonel, but he could provide all of the gunpowder and weapons they could sell. It had turned out to be a profitable relationship.
Regrettably, the wife of a prominent landowner disappeared. There had been others, but none this highly placed or as popular. She’d been well known in New Orleans society. Unfortunately, she liked gambling and gamblers. The last person she’d been seen with was Pierce. In their investigation, the police turned up three other women who had disappeared under questionable circumstances. Two of them had last been seen with Pierce, and one with him. Ruffcarn had never harmed a woman in his life. He’d not harmed her, but his name came up in the investigation because he’d seen her last, and he was a partner with Pierce.
Sometimes, he wished he’d never met Pierce, but then they had been extremely successful together, and this time they stood to make a fortune. Shaking his head, he climbed out of bed, poured some water into the basin, and washed his face. There was a knock on his door.
“Yeah.”
It was Bankes. “Boss, you said you wanted to leave by six. It’s five now, and Bartholf is rustling up some eggs.”
“I’ll be down shortly. Is Pierce down yet?”
“Yep, he just walked in.”
“Get Bull and you two make sure all the boys are ready. We’ll head for the ranch as soon as we eat.”
“Sure thing.”
Ruffcarn heard Bankes’ steps echoing down the hall as he headed downstairs to the bar. I’ll be glad to get back to civilization. And it’ll be much more relaxing when I no longer have to deal with Pierce. Ruffcarn knew he was smarter than Pierce, but the man disturbed him. Pierce was like a coiled rattlesnake; a man didn’t want to be close to him when he was mad. He slipped his wrinkled shirt on, belted on his gun, and pulled his boots on. He grabbed his hat as he went out the door.
Downstairs, Pierce was seated at his table eating eggs, bacon, and biscuits that Bartholf had made. He was dressed as usual, black shined boots, black pants, starched white shirt with black garters around his biceps, black vest, black tie, and black hat. His black jacket was hung over the back of his chair. His cold dark eyes focused on Ruffcarn as he walked up to the table.
Ruffcarn pulled up a chair, scraped some eggs and bacon from the platter on the table and reached for the plate of biscuits. “Bartholf’s not a half bad cook.”
Pierce nodded. “The soldier boy and Scott already left this morning. Be interesting to know what they find.”
Ruffcarn nodded. He’d like to confirm that Logan was dead. “We’ll just have to wait to know for sure. But I’ve never seen Bull miss.”
“Always a first time. But I doubt that he did. You pulling out this morning?”
“Yeah, we’re heading back to the ranch. I want to make sure Nance’s ranch continues to lose cattle. We’ve got a big flat over on the Pecan that’ll take a couple thousand head. Those Rockin’ N cowboys will never find them there. We’ll get them rebranded and sell them to the army. With our contract, we can wipe Nance out. But we need to increase the pressure on him. How’s our contact in Austin doing on voiding Nance’s ownership of the ranch?”
Pierce’s brow wrinkled slightly. “Having some problems there. Nance has a lot of friends in the capitol. If we talk to the wrong people, he could get wind of it and sour the deal. We want to make sure this slides through without a hitch—push too hard and our whole plan goes up in smoke.”
Ruffcarn picked up a piece of bacon and slid it into his mouth. “You think you’ll need to go to Austin? That might speed things up. A little pressure on the right person might make a difference.”
“Maybe, but not right now. Give it another couple of weeks. If this works, we’ll have his ranch and can start our search. It shouldn’t take too long to find what we’re looking for. Once we do, we’ll be riding high. You just keep rustling his cattle. You might ride over and make him another offer. If we could buy the ranch outright then that would save the hassle of going through Austin.”
“Wesley, that old man’s not going to sell and you know it. The only way we’re going to get it is through your connection in Austin—or kill him.”
“Look, it won’t hurt to try once more. If he says no, nothing’s lost. With Logan out of the picture, he just might say yes—so give it one more try.”
Ruffcarn had finished his breakfast. He stood, grabbed his hat, and motioned to Bankes, Bull, and the other cowhands.
“Sure, I’ll do it. That’ll give us a chance to find out about Logan, and who knows, he might sell.”
Ruffcarn led his crew out the door.
Pierce and Bartholf were the only two remaining in the King 7 saloon. Bartholf picked up the dishes from the tables and took them out to the kitchen. He came back and started wiping down the tables. “You think Nance will sell out?”
Pierce rubbed his forehead for a moment. “No, I doubt seriously that he will. But if he does, it saves us a lot of time, and it keeps Ruffcarn occupied.”
Without looking up from the table he was cleaning, Bartholf said, “You’re going to have to kill Ruffcarn before this is over. You know that, don’t you?”
“Maybe; when he outlives his usefulness. I almost hate to. We’ve been partners for a lot of profitable years.”
“He’s weak. He don’t mind beating on someone, or having another man do his killing, but he doesn’t have the stomach to outright kill a man, or a woman. You can’t depend on a man like that.”
Pierce took a sip of his coffee. “You could be right. I’ll have to keep that in mind. For now, I’ve a feisty girl on my mind, and I’m going to have to make her acquaintance.” He smiled a smile that would freeze water and pushed back from the table. He got up, slipped on his coat, adjusted his sixgun, and walked out the swinging doors of the saloon. His boots glistened as the morning
sun struck them. They echoed ominously on the boardwalk.
Chapter 16
Josh’s face and upper body were swollen almost beyond recognition. He had been in the Kickapoo village since yesterday. During that time, Travels Far’s wife Nadie, along with several other women of the village, had worked on his abused body. They began by using the hide-scraping blades to scrape the fine prickly pear stickers from his neck, arms, and hands, and his back and chest. It was slow, tedious, and painful work.
Fortunately for Josh, he’d fallen into a deep sleep and was oblivious to what was happening. After getting all of the small spears from his body, Nadie made a paste from choke cherry berries and the peeled crushed pads of the prickly pear. She washed him thoroughly, then coated all of his upper body and arms with the paste. She cleansed his head, peeled a prickly pear pad, and tied it around his head wound. She and her helpers then watched and waited.
Josh opened his eyes. He was in a hut. He could see the intricate weaving of the boughs that provided the support for the wickiup. There were no windows. He was alone. He reached for his gun. It was gone. A buckskin shirt, along with his washed pants, was laid out near him. He tried to sit up and fell back. He hurt all over. There was some kind of paste spread over his upper body. It soothed the stinging and burning from the cactus spines. Josh could see the red, inflamed spots under the paste. He had no idea how it had happened. He remembered the puff of smoke—that was the last he remembered. He needed clothes and his gun.
The buffalo skin covering the opening in the lodge was pulled back, and an Indian woman started in. When she saw he was awake, she stepped back outside, and he could hear talking. The skin was again pulled back. An older Indian strode into the lodge. Though he was obviously an older man, his muscular body was apparent since he wore nothing but a breech cloth and buckskin leggings. The man walked to Josh’s side and squatted beside him. He stared at Josh for a few minutes. Josh held his eyes and waited. His head throbbed like a blacksmith was inside banging on his skull with a sledge, and when he tried to take a deep breath, sharp pain stabbed him from his ribs.
“You strong man,” the Indian said.
“You speak English.”
“I learn from trapper as a boy, many years ago near big lakes in far north country.”
“You’ve helped me. You have my thanks,” Josh managed to say, although all his body wanted to do was go back to sleep.
The Indian nodded. “It is good. You lucky to be alive. You were shot. Then dragged by horse. Horse ran off.”
Josh nodded and again tried to rise, but the Indian lightly pressed him back down. “You rest more. I come back later.”
When he awoke again he had a huge thirst. There was a gourd of water within reach. He drank the water. He could feel his senses returning. He stretched both arms; the pain was lessening. His head hurt and his ribs bothered him, but the stinging and burning was much less. The stuff that had been spread all over his arms and body was gone. I just might live. But I’ve got to get back to the ranch. I have no idea how long I’ve been out. No telling what has happened.
An Indian woman was sitting near the door stretching what appeared to be a deer hide that had the hair scraped off. She watched him with a steady gaze. He saw his pants laying next to his bed. He reached out, grasped them and slowly pulled them on. The old woman watched for a moment more, then went back to stretching the hide. I’ve got to stand up. He pushed up with his hands, then slowly stood. His right side hurt and his head throbbed with a dull ache. He could feel scabs on his face. Considering what the old Indian told him, he was lucky to be feeling any pain at all. He was surprised how the stinging and burning from the prickly pear thorns were almost gone. Don’t know what they put on me but it sure seems to have worked.
He touched his head and felt the wrapping around it. When he started to remove the bandage, the woman stopped, laid the deer skin down and walked over to him. She motioned for him to sit. After he was sitting, she slowly started removing the head dressing. Once it was totally removed, she used a cloth and water to remove what was left of the prickly pear pad. When she had finished cleaning, she went outside and brought back a bowl of what looked like stew. He didn’t care what it was, he was starving. He reached into the bowl and picked out a piece of meat. It was venison … delicious. After finishing that bowl he again stood. There was a buckskin shirt and moccasins next to where his pants had been. She motioned to him that these were his.
“Thank you,” Josh said, as he signaled his thanks in universal sign language. He slipped the buckskin shirt on over his head and stepped into the moccasins. The shirt fit perfectly and the moccasins felt good on his feet. He took a couple of steps and pain shot through his left knee. Is there anywhere on my body that didn’t get hurt? He took another step and his right leg and knee felt fine. He smiled. I guess there’s at least one spot.
Josh walked over to the buffalo hide, pulled it back, and stepped outside. All activity in the village stopped. Even the kids stopped playing and stared at him. Several of the younger braves eyed him with resentment. He felt sure that his being here didn’t please the majority of the village. He stood outside the lodge for a moment surveying the village. It was not large. He could only see nine lodges among the pecan trees. There were no more than fifteen men visible. There could be more out hunting. There were women and children, so this was no war party. Still, it was obvious that the white man wasn’t popular here. He spotted the horses grazing in an elbow of the creek. With the brush around the creek, it made a natural corral on three sides.
The women and children watched him for a moment longer, then went about their business. The old Indian had been squatting, talking with three other men. When he saw Josh come out of the lodge, he stood and headed over to him. “You are feeling better?”
“Still a mite stiff, but I think I’m gonna make it … thanks to you. My name is Josh Logan. Can you tell me what happened?”
“I am Travels Far of the Kickapoo Nation. Yes, I can tell you everything, for I saw it all. But first, come, sit, and we will have a pipe.”
Josh moved to the fire pit with Travels Far. The other men of the camp joined them, and the women and children gathered outside of the circle. They all looked forward to Travels Far’s stories. Travels Far introduced Josh to each of the men, as they sat around the pit. A ceremony existed for preparing the pipe, and Travels Far methodically went through each step. The final step was lighting the pipe. He took a long pull, passed it to Josh and began to talk. “He never saw me. He had been watching you for at least the day. He moved ahead of you and found his spot to shoot from. He was a big man.”
Josh coughed slightly as he inhaled the smoke from the pipe. He didn’t smoke, and it burned in his lungs, but this was important, and he owed these people his life. The other Kickapoos nodded and chuckled as he coughed, but weren’t offended.
Travels Far went on with his story. He told of Josh being shot and dragged, his boot finally coming off, and his being slung against the oak. Additionally, he pantomimed how the big man who shot Josh was laughing as he got onto his horse and headed toward the fort. He mentioned how the man’s face and nose were swollen like he had been in a fight. Travels Far went to great length to describe how he rode his horse up to Josh and sat within feet of him. He told of Josh talking to the spirits while he slept. In the morning when Josh awoke, Travels Far followed him as he struggled to rise and walk, then fell, only to rise again.
Travels Far spoke in English, then switched to tell his story in Kickapoo. As he described the determination of Josh, the other Indians looked at Josh with new-found respect, nodding and commenting on this white man’s bravery. They could see the telltale signs on his face and head. The Kickapoo respected courage. Travels Far finished with the explanation that he’d intended to kill him and take his scalp. But after Josh talked to the spirits, then wouldn't quit but continued to move forward, he gained respect for the man and made the decision not to kill him. When Josh fell in the creek and
passed out again, Travels Far decided to take him to their village.
Josh said, “I thank you. I want you to know that my father, who’s still living back in Tennessee, came to me and told me that I couldn’t quit. The blood of my ancestors ran through me and I could not disappoint them, so I kept going.”
When Travels Far translated for the others, they excitedly nodded. One of the other men told Travels Far to translate to Logan his words. “Warrior’s blood flows through you as it flows through us. Each man must, in his strength, honor his ancestors. Without them we would not be.”
Logan kept eye contact with the Indian who had spoken. “What you say is true. I know my ancestors are as grateful for the Kickapoos’ generosity as I am. I’ll always be the friend of the Kickapoo if they’ll allow it.”
Around the circle there was much nodding and conversing. The pipe had made it back to Travels Far as his story ended. He stood and Josh stood alongside of him. It was obvious to the Indians that this man was still experiencing much pain, but he wasn’t showing it. They all stood and, one by one, approached Josh, solemnly grasped his hand, and shook it with one strong up and down stroke. They then dispersed to their previous duties.
Josh turned to Travels Far. “I’ve been here two days. Bad men would take the ranch where I work. The man who shot me works for them. I must get back to the Rocking N as soon as possible. I must leave now.”
Travels Far shook his head “Stay one more day. Your body is not yet strong enough for you to travel. Tomorrow I will give you a horse and go with you to Rocking N, for I know where it is. But for now you must rest.” He motioned Josh back into the lodge.
“Did I lose my gun when I was being dragged?” Josh vaguely remembered having it when he came to by the tree.
Logan's Word: A Logan Family Western - Book 1 (Logan Family Western Series) Page 12