Rocky Mountain Warpath (A Crossed Arrows Western Book 1)

by Patrick E. Andrews

  Issuing classic fiction from Yesterday and Today!

  Captain Mack Hawkins, Lieutenant Ludlow Dooley and the Kiowa-Comanche Detachment of Indian Scouts are sent on a hazardous assignment up into the Rocky Mountains of Montana. Their orders are to protect railroad surveyors coming under fire from hidden snipers. But when the detachment arrives, they find themselves caught in a deadly crossfire. Mysterious threats and baffling situations abound that are intertwined with gun battles and ambushes in the mountainous crags and forests of the Rockies. To further complicate matters, a revolution by the Métis—a people of mixed French and Indian blood—against the Canadian government unexpectedly involves Hawkins and his men.

  ROCKY MOUNTAIN WARPATH

  CROSSED ARROWS 1

  By Patrick E. Andrews

  Copyright © 2016 by the Andrews Family Revocable Trust

  First Smashwords Edition: May 2016

  Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  Cover art © 2016 by Tony Masero

  This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book

  Series Editor: Ben Bridges ~*~ Text © Piccadilly Publishing

  Published by Arrangement with the Author’s Agent.

  This book is dedicated to the Memory of

  Quanah Parker

  Author’s Note

  The original Crossed Arrows novel published by Piccadilly Publishing was a standalone. This book Mountain Warpath, although identified as number one in the Crossed Arrows series, is a continuation of the original.

  Excerpt from U.S. Army Regulations of 1890

  481. Indians employed as scouts will be enlisted for periods of three years and discharged when the necessity for their services shall cease. While in service they will receive the pay and allowances of cavalry soldiers and an additional allowance of 40 cents per day, provided they furnish their own horses and horse equipments.

  482. Department commanders are authorized to appoint the sergeants and corporals for the whole number of enlisted scouts serving in their departments, but such appointments must not exceed the proportion of one first sergeant, five sergeants, and four corporals for every sixty enlisted Indian scouts.

  483. The number of Indian scouts allowed to military departments will be announced from time to time in orders from the Headquarters of the Army.

  484. The enlistment and reenlistment of Indian scouts will be made under the direction of department commanders. The appointment or mustering of farriers or blacksmiths on the rolls of Indian scouts is illegal.

  485. In all cases of enlistment of Indians the full Indian name, and also the English interpretation of the same, will be inserted in the enlistment papers and all subsequent returns and reports concerning them.

  Prologue

  Kenneth Plummer, the head surveyor for the Northern Plains Railway System, stepped out of the new office shack at the worksite in the Montana Rockies. He looked forward to launching the first day’s work for his crew. He was the supervisor for laying out a track route through the Haut-Prairie Gap in the mountains near the Canadian border. This would eventually link up with other lines going across Idaho and into the state of Washington

  The six men of his crew, their bellies filled with bacon and eggs prepared by their fulltime Chinese cook, waited in a group by the shack with their transits and levels. These were college men from back east who accepted the employment for the experience as well as a chance to see the Wild West up close and personal.

  Plummer was as pleased with the young fellows as they were pleased with him. They especially admired his robust appearance that epitomized the great wilderness of the northwestern frontier. The boss had a large, bushy, ill-kempt beard that went down to his chest, and he dressed in jackets and trousers of thick cotton duck. A faded wide-brimmed hat was crammed so low on his head it pushed his ears down slightly.

  “Well, boys,” Plummer said, addressing them in his booming voice, “Today we’ll start the — ”

  The head of the kid on the far right suddenly exploded, spraying brain and blood over the man next to him. Another jerked sideways, collapsing to his knees, and the next bullet kicked him over sideways to the ground.

  Those unhurt followed Plummer’s example and dived to the ground, crawling toward the shack as more shots cracked the air and plowed into the dirt. When they reached the back of the structure they could see the Oriental cook sprawled out in front of his cook tent.

  “This,” commented Plummer cantankerously, “is a hell of a way to run a railroad!”

  Chapter One

  Fort Lone Wolf, Indian Territory was most assuredly not an elegant garrison in the early 1890s. The post was the home of an under strength cavalry squadron made up of four troops and a headquarters with a total of eleven officers and a hundred and eighty enlisted men. The rest of the regiment had been spread out between other small posts in the territory.

  Although the headquarters, quartermaster warehouse, barracks, stables and other structures were laid out in perfectly aligned patterns, they were simple one-story frame buildings. A post trader store, located at the western edge of the garrison, offered merchandise along with two small saloons — one for officers and the other for enlisted soldiers — as well as a billiard room. The proprietor who operated the establishment had a government contract to conduct business on the military reservation.

  The officers and their families at Fort Lone Wolf resided on officers’ row where the size of the quarters varied according to rank. Subalterns had two rooms and a kitchen, lieutenants of the staff and captains had the same but slightly larger, while the major in command lived in four rooms and a kitchen. All had outdoor privies in the rear of the government homes.

  The bachelor soldiers were billeted in barracks while a humble neighborhood called soapsuds row was where the married enlisted men were quartered. The austere domiciles were smaller models of the subalterns’ quarters. The name “soapsuds row” came from the fact that many of the soldiers’ wives took in washing to augment the pay of their husbands. The military payrolls ranged from thirteen dollars a month for privates to twenty-three dollars a month for the sergeant major.

  Fort Lone Wolf was not alone on the military reservation. The Southern Kiowa-Comanche Indian Agency complete with office, trading store and schoolhouse was located five miles from the garrison proper. A government-appointed agent, a rather harried gentleman by the name of Ned Turpin, supervised the Kiowa and Comanche Indians who lived on nearby farms.

  The Native-Americans had been granted the land through a treaty negotiated between them and the United States Government in 1876. The Indians had agreed to cease their nomadic lifestyles and settle down to become peaceful farmers. The arrangement, however, was not as placid as it seemed. The two tribes succumbed to the pact after being chased down and dealt a brutal defeat by the U.S. Cavalry. This forced them into an existence completely alien to their culture.

  A school for the Indian children had been established fifteen years after the signing of the treaty. The school was not a wholly government project, however. It was supervised by a branch of the Quaker Church devoted to educating Native-American youth to help them assimilate into American society. The teacher was Miss Kristina Halverson; a dedicated and capable woman who ha
d quickly earned the affection of her students and their families.

  There was also a military unit stationed at the agency. This outfit was made up of Indians assigned to the Kiowa-Comanche Detachment of the U.S. Scouts. For the first time in American military history, these tribesmen were allowed to enlist as soldiers in the United States Army. Their branch of service was designated the U.S. Scouts and they wore army uniforms while armed the same as white and black troopers. They had a unique insignia for their hats and standards. This emblem was two crossed arrows. This followed the U.S. Army’s custom of providing the infantry with crossed rifles, the artillery crossed cannon barrels and the cavalry crossed sabers to identify the various branches.

  The Indian scouts were not quartered in barracks. Instead they lived with their wives and children in lodges similar to those used when they were wandering nomads. In the old days, buffalo skins covered the dwellings, but the 1890 inhabitants had tarpaulins of twelve-ounce cotton duck as issued by the Quartermaster Department for army tents. The Indian women cut and sewed the waterproof material to fit around the stacked poles of the shelters.

  The commanding officer of the Kiowa-Comanche Detachment was Captain Mack Hawkins. He was a maverick officer who came up through the ranks after six years as a sergeant. He had been assigned to this new unit by a disgruntled commander who wanted to get rid of the individualist troublemaker who regarded the United States Army Regulations as a document to be ignored. Needless to say, Hawkins was proud and happy with the assignment.

  Captain Hawkins and his second-in-command Second Lieutenant Ludlow Dooley were quartered in tents near the Indian Scouts. Ludlow was a recent West Point graduate who had reported for duty as a somewhat befuddled young man. He was an awkward kid and not physically robust. But after the detachment’s first deployment to chase down and arrest bandits who had stolen an army payroll, he returned from the mission with all his misconceptions of the Army knocked out of him. During that foray, the lieutenant had killed a man, and bedded his first woman; a prostitute in a cow town saloon. Those incidents also swept away any innocence or timidity he may have brought with him.

  At that point Ludlow had proved his worth to Captain Hawkins. The rapport between the two had developed into mutual respect replete with humorous exchanges during conversations. And the younger man had a deep respect for the older that bordered on reverence.

  Since the Kiowa-Comanche Detachment had no doctor, Hawkins appointed his second-in-command the responsibility for all medical matters. Ludlow was issued a medical kit that contained medicines, anesthesia, antiseptics and even surgical instruments. He was particularly fascinated by the latter, wondering what it would be like to cut into a sick or injured person.

  Mack Hawkins and the Indian Agency schoolteacher Kristina Halverson were engaged to be married, but were stymied by the U.S. Army who did not permit the wives of commissioned officers to hold jobs. The military expected the women to be proper spouses dedicated to the social side of garrison life. Kristina could not bear to give up her students and the couple’s plans for matrimony were on what seemed a permanent postponement.

  Chapter Two

  Captain Mack Hawkins rode into Fort Lone Wolf on a balmy spring morning after receiving word that the post adjutant desired to speak with him. Hawkins was a tall man whose dark hair was sprinkled with gray. A drooping moustache sat under a nose that had been flattened a bit from his being the bare-knuckles boxing champion of his regiment three years in a row. This, of course, was when he was an enlisted soldier.

  Hawkins reined in at the front of headquarters and dismounted. He returned the salute of a soldier on the porch of the building as he walked inside. Acting Sergeant Major Ioan Jones looked up at the captain’s entrance. Jones, a soldierly NCO who had served in the Welsh Guards of the British Army, gave the officer a grin. “Good morning, sir!”

  “I got word that the adjutant wants to see me.”

  “He’s waiting most impatiently, sir.”

  Hawkins grinned. “At least I know it won’t be a chewing out since I outrank him.” Normally a lieutenant wouldn’t summon a captain, but a staff officer enjoyed certain privileges in his line of duty. Hawkins walked across the room to the door marked POST AND SQUADRON ADJUTANT, knocked and walked in.

  Lieutenant Ted Biltmore greeted, “Good morning, sir.”

  “What can I do for you, Mr. Biltmore?”

  The adjutant picked up a packet of papers on his desk, and opened it. “This is the roster of the scout detachment you submitted last week. The departmental adjutant general at Fort Sill has returned it for corrections.”

  Hawkins felt a flash of irritation. “What the hell is he pissing and moaning about?”

  “Well, sir, it’s about the names of your Indian scouts’ wives.”

  Hawkins frowned. “Hell, I put their names in the English language as regulations require.”

  “Yes, sir. But it seems that the adjutant general is upset by two names being listed with each scout. I’m a bit confused about that myself.”

  “I listed two names, Mr. Biltmore, because each scout has two wives.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “In that case, sir, I’ll have to ask you to write an endorsement at the end of the dispatch and explain the situation. Since you’re the commanding officer of the detachment, I can’t do that.”

  Hawkins sighed. “Okay. Give me the damn paperwork.”

  Biltmore handed over the document along with a pen and bottle of ink. Hawkins dipped the quill into the ink and scribbled out the explanation. When he finished, Biltmore pressed a blotter over the short message.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Biltmore. Is there any more significant military administrative tasks that require my attention?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then all is well with the republic,” Hawkins said. “Have the telegrapher send a message to Mr. Benjamin Harrison the president of these United States and give him the good news.”

  Lieutenant Biltmore grinned as Hawkins left the office.

  The captain strode outside to his horse, and pulled himself up into the government issue 1885 McClellan saddle. He rode down the street to the post trader’s store.

  That establishment was a well-appreciated institution by everyone at Fort Lone Wolf. It was run by Gerald Weiser the post trader who sold canned fruit, fish, and meat along with beer, whiskey, candy, pastries, newspapers, magazines and other items that his military customers wanted and needed. And, to make things even more convenient for the clientele, Weiser extended credit. This wasn’t done out of the goodness of his heart, however. He knew any potential deadbeat was in easy reach through the debtor’s commanding officer.

  The consumption of alcohol was permitted in the store in the evenings before call to quarters. However, the post commander would shut the saloon down for a couple of weeks if any misbehavior or brawls resulted from the drunken soldiery.

  Hawkins, carrying a haversack he’d pulled from his saddlebags, walked into the store that was empty of customers since it was duty hours. Weiser sat on a stool behind the counter that fronted his shelves of merchandise. “Well! What brings you around so early, Mack?”

  “I had to come in for a chitchat with the adjutant, so I thought I’d pick up some things for me and Mr. Dooley.”

  “And how is our Ludlow Dooley?”

  “He’s just as he always is,” Hawkins answered. He pointed to the newspaper. “Is that recent?”

  “You bet! It’s only three months old. I’ll save it for you after I finish.”

  “I’d appreciate that,” Hawkins said, putting the haversack on the counter. He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Here’s a list of things we need.”

  “Are you paying cash or will this be payday stakes?”

  “Payday stakes,” Hawkins replied, meaning he wanted credit.

  “Okay. Let’s start with the smoked oysters.”

  “That’s Doo
ley’s favorite.”

  “It must be,” Weiser said. “He wants a half dozen cans.”

  The merchant fetched all the items and listed each in his credit journal under Hawkins’ name. When he finished, he put the purchases in the haversack. “Got time for a snort?”

  “Not today,” Hawkins said. “There’s a few things going on at the agency that need tending to. I’ll see you on my next trip. Don’t forget to save that newspaper for me.” He picked up the goods and walked out the door.

  Hawkins rode across the prairie, coming to a halt on a rise that offered a view of the scouts’ encampment. He could see Second Lieutenant Ludlow Dooley shouting commands and counting cadence as he put the scout detachment through dismounted drill. Hawkins had insisted the practice be done for at least an hour each day to give the Indians a sense of group cooperation. Having to march in step, make column and flanking movements together dulled their natural sense of individuality. Teamwork did not come naturally to Native Americans. Many times, during their wars against the United States Army, warriors would get so excited they would give away an ambush or attack by suddenly jumping up and charging the soldiers out of pure bloodlust. These rash actions inevitably spoiled chances for surprise.

  Hawkins continued to watch Ludlow’s instruction, noting the West Point graduate had not lost his marching skills acquired at the academy. The captain swung his gaze to the Indians noting that dismounted drill was becoming almost instinctive with them.

  Before the establishment of the U.S. Scouts, the Indians, who enlisted, were utterly miserable trying to be farmers. Even the army officers who had fought them felt sorry about the situation. But the military men’s recommendations to let their former enemies become cattle ranchers was turned down by the religious bureaucrats supervising the program. Those ignorant know-it-alls felt that farming would domesticate the former nomadic warriors quicker. The result was misery for the Native-American men who nursed their collective frustration with a heavy consumption of alcohol. This illegal whiskey was purchased from wandering peddlers who operated just outside the limits of the military reservation.