Bohanin's Last Days

by Randy D. Smith

  “You sound like you admire her.”

  “I admire both of you greatly. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. If it’s worth anything to you, I believe that you have been badly abused in this matter in spite of the money. Logan Bochart is a cad and you’re much better off without him.”

  Millie studied Bohanin and smiled. “How old are you, Captain Bohanin?”

  “I was born in 1827 in Chicago, Illinois.”

  “Fifty-eight years old?”

  “That’s right, I joined the army in 1846.”

  “What did you do before you joined the army?”

  “I was an attorney. I had me a small practice in Chicago.”

  “Why on earth would you give up such a profession for a career in the cavalry?”

  “Think I took a step down, Miss Toland?”

  “No, certainly not. It’s just that one is a safe profession. The other, well, it is filled with dangers and sacrifice.”

  “Maybe that’s why I never went back to being an attorney. I went off to the war in Mexico because I hadn’t really done or seen anything. After those first three years, I guess it was just difficult to go back to civilian life. One thing led to another and before I realized it, I had ten years in the service. Then there was the threat of the rebellion. I was strongly for the Union. Then, during the war, I came back to the West. What with the Indians and the nuisance they presented, well, I guess the last thirty years flashed by without me knowing it.”

  “But your rank. I would have thought that a man like you would have gained more recognition for your service.”

  “I wasn’t always a Captain. I rose to colonel during the rebellion. I was up for general.”

  “What happened?”

  Bohanin smiled. “Remember what I said about them mistakes people sometimes make in the passion of the moment?”

  Millie nodded.

  “It was at Chancellorsville. My command was part of a raid to cut the Richmond Railroad off from Lee’s supply routes. Old General Lee ignored our raids and caught General Hooker with his pants down. Chewed him to pieces. We lost 17,000 men in that battle. My cavalry unit suffered sixty- percent casualties as we tried to cover Hooker’s retreat. When what was left of my unit finally disengaged, I found the general entertaining his whore and learned that most of the forces were never put into the battle. Well, I guess I lost my head. I reminded the general of a statement that he had made before the battle. He said, ‘May God have mercy on General Lee, for I will certainly have none.’ I said that the only person that needed mercy was the feeble-minded s.o.b. that thought up the disaster when he should have been paying attention to the battle rather than some prostitute. General Hooker demanded an apology and I told him to go to hell. Suddenly, I found myself under court marshal, reduced to rank of Captain. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Hooker himself was fired, I probably would have been dishonorably discharged.”

  Millie shook her head. “You stayed in the service?”

  “I stayed in the cavalry. They transferred me to Fort Riley and I fought Indians for the next fifteen years. Ranks were more or less frozen after the war because the army was top-heavy. A captain I was and a captain I remained for the rest of my career.”

  “No regrets?”

  “Some. It was a bit difficult finding a wife on the plains of Kansas. By the time I got to the point that I seriously considered it, it was too late. A man of my age would be almost in his seventies before he even got his oldest children raised. I’m fifty-eight and most folks would consider me ten years older. I made my choices long ago. Now is not the time for regrets.”

  “That is a rather sad story.”

  “No, young lady, it’s a lesson. A lesson that says make your mistakes and don’t look back.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “You’ve got a bitter pill to swallow here. You make the best of it. You find yourself a decent young man and make a new, better life for yourself. You set your goals and live your life. Maybe things won’t work out like you want them. But you go on. Hold your head up and say ‘I got two things to be proud of. My life and my self-respect. And you don’t let anyone rob you of either.”

  Millie stared at Bohanin as he spoke. “And what would you have done in Logan Bochart’s shoes?”

  Bohanin smiled. “Logan Bochart made a mistake just as you did. Maybe he made his first mistake when he married a woman for her money and did not consider the other pleasures that he would not have because of his choice. Then again, maybe Logan Bochart is a user. But being a user is not a sin. It is a mistake. It was a bit selfish for both of you to have done what you did. But that kind of selfishness I can understand. Pleasures of the moment, loneliness, and all that. But to use someone in a desperate game of manipulation and murder is a sin.”

  “Is it always that easy for you, Captain Bohanin? Everything so black and white?”

  “I thought I was being open-minded. Do you think I am wrong?”

  “I wonder whether anyone could tell you that they thought you were wrong. You seem to have found easy answers for your mistakes but you don’t seem so forgiving of others.”

  Bohanin smiled. “Ain’t that the hell of it, Missy? Just when you think you’ve got all the answers, somebody tells you that you’re a crusty old self-righteous goat, passing judgment on the world with your special set of rights and wrongs. What do they call that, Missy? Do they call that being an old fool?”

  “Yes, Captain, they call that being an old fool.”

  “Well, meet L.J. Bohanin, your… how did you say it? Your knight in shining armor.”

  “How do you do, Captain Bohanin. Meet Millie Toland, you’re rather foolish damsel in distress.”

  They talked of many things throughout the remainder of the day. She told the captain of her affair. How attracted to Bochart she had been, how she had felt sorry for him, her curiosity about sex and an illicit love affair. She told him of her plans. He shared more of his life experiences and adventures. Every major battle that he had fought, his different postings, many of his old friends. She told him about her parents and her youth.

  They stopped by a small pond for a couple of hours to lunch and rest the mare. They made camp on the open plains and he made her flap jacks. She cooked up some bacon and fried potatoes. After the meal, they talked of the night and their progress of the day. They shared the sunset and the cool plains evening before a small campfire.

  From their bedrolls, they talked of solemn things and lessons that they had gathered from life. Finally, she drifted off to sleep. Bohanin remained awake in his bedroll, his Winchester by his side, his Colt within easy reach near his head. He listened for signs of movement in the growing darkness of the dimming firelight.

  From the distance, Starbuck watched the dimming of the little campfire as he waited for Nobel. He would give them one more day. They would be two days from Springfield and at least two days from any other town. Then he would creep into the camp and kill the soldier with his knife while he slept. He would rape the woman and cut her up some. He would scalp the old man and tie the woman’s body down as though she had been tortured. That was something no white man would do. That would get him off the hook. He would take the three thousand dollars and ride away. If Nobel tried to stop him, he would kill Nobel as well. This was his chance to be somebody.

  Starbuck pulled his blanket about his shoulders. He ran a cold camp that night. He would take no chance of a fire that might alarm the couple. There would be plenty of warm camps later. Starbuck grinned as he again thought of the money, and the killing, and the woman.

  Meanwhile, Nobel cursed as he examined his horse in the darkness. The gelding had put his foot wrong crossing an arroyo. The beast was lame and couldn’t be ridden for some time. Nobel would have to turn back. He wouldn’t be able to find Starbuck. He wouldn’t be able to inform the killer that their employer had experienced a change of heart, and had ordered him to stop Starbuck.

  Chapter IX

  Millie awo
ke to the smell of fresh coffee boiling on the campfire and bacon frying in a skillet. The sun was breaking over the horizon as she rolled over in her blankets and watched Bohanin.

  “You’re up early,” she said with a smile.

  “Four o’clock every morning for the last thirty years. Old habits are difficult to break,” Bohanin said. “The coffee will be ready in a few minutes.”

  Millie started to sit up but flinched to a sudden sharp pain in the center of her back.

  “Sleeping on the ground isn’t the most comfortable,” she said with a grimace.

  “It’ll make an old man out of you before your time. Take it from me,” Bohanin said.

  Millie sniffed.

  “What is that smell?” she asked.

  “Coffee and bacon, I suppose,” Bohanin said.

  “No, that other smell. That medicinal odor.”

  “You caught me young lady. That’s horse liniment.”

  “Horse liniment? Is there something wrong with the mare?”

  “Nope, I didn’t use it on the horse. I used on my knees.”

  “Your knees! Whatever for?”

  Bohanin stretched by the campfire. His joints cracked and popped softly as he straightened himself.

  “I’m full of arthritis. That liniment is about the only thing that will get me moving in the mornings, especially when I’ve slept on the ground.”

  “But, horse liniment? Surely you could find something better than that.”

  Bohanin poured a cup of hot coffee into a tin cup and brought it to her.

  “That’s what Doc Whitehead says. But no matter what he suggests, none of his cures work half as well.” Bohanin fetched his own cup and took a sip by the fire.

  “That is unless you consider this potion.”

  “What’s that?” Millie asked.

  “Pure D, plain old Kentucky bust head,” Bohanin said before taking another swallow. “Eight-year-old Kentucky Bourbon. Believe me, it’s better stuff than he normally prescribed in his office.”

  “It’s certainly better than horse liniment,” she said examining the bottle.

  “Actually, no. One doesn’t seem to really work very well without the other. If there was a way I could patent the combination, I believe I would have found my fortune.”

  “I believe I’ll stick to coffee.”

  “You do that, little lady. But thirty years from now, you remember this cure. It may come in handy when your joints are stiff and sore and I’m a resting in my grave.”

  “I don’t like the thought of that much. You in your grave.”

  “My, we’re serious this time of the morning. The only thing worse than dying old, is dying young. Take that pan of water over there by the buggy and go off to do your morning chores. When you return, I’ll have some fresh fried bacon ready for you to start the day.”

  “Captain Bohanin. You’re embarrassing me,” Millie said.

  “Don’t be. We’ll be together for at least three more days. False modesty and fear of improprieties will only cause you discomfort. I ain’t going to worry about telling you when I need some privacy and I don’t want you concerning yourself about it either.”

  After their breakfast, they gathered up camp and hitched the mare. Within a mile they had fully resumed their conversation, laughing and joking, telling stories, and sharing the scenery.

  Starbuck had given up on Nobel. It was just as well. Doing the job himself suited him just fine. He wanted to take his time with the woman. Nobel would only cause problems.

  Starbuck kept his horse near the arroyos and gullies a mile behind the buggy. Bohanin and the woman were easy enough to track.

  They made good progress. It was cool and the mare seemed in excellent form. A two hour rest at noon went smoothly and, toward evening, Bohanin reckoned that they had made over twenty miles. They camped in the breaks of an old river wash with rock ledges on three sides of them. It was much more pleasant than the open plains. Millie grew quiet as evening neared. During their meal she hardly spoke at all.

  “Something troubling you?” Bohanin asked.

  “It’s nothing really, Captain. Probably just a change in chemistry. You know, from the baby and all,” she said.

  “No, I guess I wouldn’t. I’ve little experience in such doings. Is there anything that I can do?”

  “Yes there is. Would you mind very much just holding me, in your arms.”

  Bohanin was surprised.

  “Oh heavens, Captain. You’re the perfect gentleman. I hardly think that I’m in any danger. It would be nice, especially tonight.”

  Bohanin placed his arm about her shoulder.

  Millie sobbed as she placed her head upon his shoulder.

  “I’ve made such a mess of things. First, I get involved with Logan Bochart and now you. Captain Bohanin, you are the kindest man I’ve ever known. You worry about my comfort, cook my food, tell me stories, haul me across Colorado, and even have a pan of water prepared for me in the morning. I’ve never met another man quite like you. I’m just sorry that I’ve put you through all this.”

  Bohanin gently patted the woman’s shoulder.

  “It was my choice. I’m not doing anything that isn’t a pleasure.”

  “It isn’t fair. This isn’t your problem. I had no right to get you involved. You’re making a great sacrifice for a woman you hardly know.”

  “That may have been true in the beginning. But it certainly isn’t true now. I’ve become quite fond of you.

  Millie turned her tear-filled eyes to his. “Is that all it is for you, Captain?”

  “Yes, that’s all it is,” he lied.

  “I don’t believe you. I think I’m falling in love with you and I think you’re falling in love with me.”

  “You’re just upset. You have no idea of what a burden I would be for you,” he said.

  She gave him a long and lingering kiss.

  Bohanin resisted slightly then returned her kiss.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said softly. “You do care. You care a great deal.”

  “Yes, I do love you. I love you very much. I would like nothing better than to share my life and my bed with you.”

  “But?” she asked.

  Bohanin smiled. “It isn’t possible and you know it. It’s too late. Time and fate have played a cruel joke on both of us. Remember what I said about the passion of the moment? This is one of those moments. In a few years, or even a few months, I would become something that you wouldn’t like very much. You would be a young woman full of womanly wants and all you would have is a tired, used up old man. It would be my greatest act of selfishness.”

  “We could have each other now.”

  “That would be your greatest act of selfishness. It would only increase a hunger in me that I could never satisfy. I would be left with the cruel memory of a love I was never able to fulfill. As much as I would love to be with you, I would only be going through the motions. If you think anything of me at all and I of you, it will end here with our friendship in tact.”

  “If only it were different,” she said.

  Bohanin held her closely and smiled. After a while, Bohanin suggested that they get some sleep. Millie nodded and gave him another kiss, this time gentle and loving, without the passion but still with deep affection.

  When he was sure that they were both sleeping, Starbuck drew his knife and revolver. He slowly walked toward Bohanin. He had watched the old fool and the woman go through their antics. After he finished with the old man, he would give the whore what she wanted. He’d give it to her, more than once. He noticed the Winchester beside Bohanin’s hand. Starbuck switched hands, the knife in his right, the revolver in his left.

  Bohanin’s eyes came open and the Winchester came up. The muzzle of the Winchester flashed and tore through Starbuck’s chest. He dropped his knife and struggled to hold onto his revolver. He tried to lift his arm but it felt like a stone anchor was attached.

  Bohanin sat up in his bedroll and levered an
other round into the Winchester, “What do you think of that, bushwhacker? I’ve been stalked by Injuns all my life. Did you really think some spur jingling piece of trash like you could get the drop on me?”

  Starbuck forced his arm to rise and thumbed the hammer.

  Another round flashed from Bohanin’s rifle.

  “Millie. Stay back,” Bohanin yelled.

  Starbuck pulled the trigger of the revolver as he fell.

  Millie clutched her stomach and gasped for a breath.

  Bohanin fired another round into the assassin’s head. In seconds, he had his arms around her letting her go to the ground easily. She started trembling.

  Bohanin tore open the front of her dress and forced her hands away from her wound. The bullet had entered to the side of her stomach. She was badly wounded but not gut shot.

  Bohanin tore off a piece of her petty coat and stuffed it into the hole.

  “Am I going to die?” Millie asked.

  “No, you won’t die, I won’t let you die. Listen to me. I’ve seen these wounds before. Tell yourself that you are going to live. Believe that you are going to live. No matter what, no matter the pain, you are going to live.”

  Millie gasped for breath, “I’m going to live.”

  “I’m going to leave you for a few moments. Don’t panic. I’m only going to hitch up the mare and get the buggy.”

  Millie nodded and struggled to endure the pain.

  He returned and tried to lift her.

  “Oh no, please! It hurts too bad.”

  “I’ve got to. I’ve got to get you in the buggy. I can’t leave you here and go for help. I’ve got to take you with me.”

  “Please, just leave me here to die.”

  As Bohanin lifted the woman into the buggy, the horse jumped. Bohanin grabbed the reins and held the mare fast. Within seconds, he was beside her holding her with one arm and urging the mare forward with the other.

  She could not move. All was black, with only pain telling her that she was alive.