Rocky Mountain Warpath (A Crossed Arrows Western Book 1)

by Patrick E. Andrews

  “He won’t say anything,” Hawkins replied. “This situation has more twists and turns than a rattlesnake. We’re gonna take him down to Fort Terral. Maybe they can get some information out of him.”

  “I reckon you want your horses and belongings,” Morgan said. “I tell you what, Cap’n. Since I gave you a bum steer on Leroux, I won’t charge you nothing ’cept for the feed we gave your animals.”

  Hawkins cooled down some. “In that case, I’ll give you a pay voucher and the next time you visit Fort Terral contact Lieutenant Graham. He’s the quartermaster and he’ll see that you’re paid for everything.”

  “That’s mighty white of you, Cap’n,” Morgan said. “I know the lieutenant. Well, c’mon, I’ll take you over to get your horses and belongings.”

  The next day’s ride from the trading post down the Haut-Prairie Gap was pleasurable for the detachment. They were back with their horses and feeling good. The mule sensed he was going home and became frisky. The only miserable individual in the bunch was DuBois whose hands were still tied behind his back and, to add insult to injury, he was forced to walk. He also had a rawhide rope around his neck that was attached to the pack on the mule’s back. The prisoner was hoping like hell the animal wouldn’t suddenly break loose and start running down the Gap. If it did, he was well aware he would be strangled at best or have his head torn off at worst.

  They went past the surveying camp that stood empty and deserted. There was something ominous about the site where several men had been murdered. Everyone recalled coming under fire at the start of the mission, and Swift Horse summed up the scouts’ collective states of mind. “Aw! Bad medicine here!”

  After descending half way down the Gap, they could see the riverside dock. A half-hour later they reached the base of the front range and rode through Fort Terral’s gate to post headquarters. Hawkins, Ludlow and Eagle Heart dismounted. The sergeant took charge of the prisoner while the officers went inside the building.

  Hawkins approached the sergeant major and started to inquire after Lieutenant Graham when the officer suddenly appeared. “Welcome back! I saw you out of my office window. How did things go?”

  “Not to my liking,” Hawkins replied. “And we’ve got a prisoner that needs lodging. A Federal prisoner, I might add.”

  “Fine,” Graham said. He addressed the sergeant major. “Send word to the provost marshal that we’ve got a guest for the guardhouse.” Then he gestured for Hawkins and Ludlow to follow him into his office.

  The trio settled down and Hawkins cut to the chase. “We’re going to have to go back to the mountains. This has turned out to be an extremely complicated mission.”

  “Okay,” Graham said. “I’ll organize a staff meeting with Colonel Nolan. By the way, James Pleasence is here at the post representing the Northern Plains Railway System. He’ll be attending the get-together as well.”

  Ludlow inquired, “Where’s Ken Plummer?”

  “He took a room at the hotel in Bismarck,” Graham explained. “The poor man is about to go crazy. He came here expecting to lay out a rail line and he’s been doing nothing but twiddling his thumbs after watching his work crews get shot up.”

  Ludlow was sympathetic, “I imagine it’s been a most difficult time for him.”

  “It sure has,” Graham said. “Anyway we won’t be able to get everyone together until tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, you can resettle in the warehouse. I’ll have the commissary sergeant arrange for rations. You can turn your horses over to the stable sergeant since you’ll be here for a bit. He can examine them and make sure they get a good feed of oats. The mule will be returned to the post.”

  Hawkins and Ludlow went outside to join the scouts. They waited until the prisoner had been placed in confinement, and with that detail taken care of, the detachment walked their horses in the direction of the quartermaster warehouse.

  Chapter Twenty

  The next morning five men were seated in Colonel William Nolan’s office. Besides the colonel there were Captain Mack Hawkins, Lieutenant Ludlow Dooley and Mr. James Pleasence of the Northern Plains Railway System. The latter represented the executive president of that company.

  The refreshments served for the occasion were cigars and hot coffee. The smoke from the stogies had already begun building up in the room when the colonel got the ball rolling. “Captain Hawkins, report if you please.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Hawkins had scribbled out some notes the evening before and used them to organized his commentary. He began with the hiring of George Leroux; being led into an ambush site at a creek; trailing after the bushwhackers; discovering Leroux had deserted the mission; the battle on the knoll; capturing the prisoner; and everything in between. He also emphasized the preliminary difficulty they had with adapting to forest and mountain warfare. However, he assured everyone that his command was now skilled in those forms of combat, and would be able to hold their own in any future gunfighting.

  “There is a mystery to all this, gentlemen,” Hawkins summarized. “Most folks in the area are happy about the railroad through the Gap. The fact that a bunch of crazies are so dead set against it boggles my mind.”

  Colonel Nolan took a sip of coffee. “What about the prisoner?”

  Hawkins shrugged “He just adds to all the confusion. His attitude toward my threat to bash in his head with my carbine frightened him. But he remained defiant just the same. Lieutenant Dooley and I both agree that he was willing to sacrifice his life for whatever the snipers’ objectives are.”

  Pleasence, who had sat quietly, finally spoke. “Are you sure he’s part of the group that killed our surveyors? Maybe he’s just crazy and wants to keep the mountains pristine.”

  “We’re certain he’s one of the gang,” Ludlow explained. “He had a Remington rolling block rifle when we captured him. And he was waiting for a chance to take some potshots at us.”

  Colonel Nolan had a worried expression on his face. “It would seem to me this mission is a lost cause.”

  “No, sir!” Hawkins exclaimed. “I’m working on a plan of action. What we need to do is approach the area from another side and move southeast instead of northwest. It’s the only way to pull a surprise attack. Unfortunately, we will have to cross into Canada again.”

  “Again?” the colonel asked.

  Ludlow explained, “We inadvertently blundered across the border, sir. We encountered two Canadian policemen. Captain Hawkins apologized for our incursion, then we turned back.”

  “Oh,” Lieutenant Graham said. “You’re talking about the North West Mounted Police.”

  “Right,” Hawkins acknowledged, then continued, “What I’d like to do is go back up into Canada, head due west then turn south down a roadway we heard about. It’s used by gold miners to get their nuggets to an assay station farther north. That would lead us back into the country where those bushwhackers live. They wouldn’t expect us coming at them from that direction. But if we get caught in Canada again, it could create an international incident.” He snorted. “Not that I give a damn.”

  “We actually have telegraph communications with the North West Mounted Police in that area,” Colonel Nolan informed him. “We could send a message explaining our problem then ask for permission to enter their sovereign territory.”

  “I agree, sir,” Graham said. “But they’ll surely want to send some of their own men with Captain Hawkins and his detachment.” He looked at Hawkins. “Would you have any objection to that?”

  “Hell, no!”

  “The Canadians would leave you as soon as you crossed back into the United States,” the colonel informed him.

  “Too bad,” Ludlow said. “We could use the extra firepower. We’re armed with single-shot carbines while our adversaries have Winchester repeaters.”

  James Pleasance leaned forward. “Hell’s bells! The railroad has a dozen Winchester rifles we purchased for the Pinkerton Detectives. They’re the lever-action forty caliber model 1873’s. They hold fifteen
rounds in the bullet tubes and even have rear sights for more accuracy. They’re stored right here in the garrison armory along with a large amount of ammunition.”

  “Mmm!” Ludlow said. “I’ve been told that the Winchester ‘73 was a rifle you load on Sunday and shoot all week.”

  “I’ve heard that saying before,” Pleasence remarked. He looked at Hawkins. “D’you think you can use them?”

  “Can a starving man use a steak dinner?”

  Pleasence didn’t quite catch the humor. “Uh ... yes ... I suppose he could.”

  “No half as much as we could use those rifles!” Hawkins exclaimed with a loud laugh.

  Pleasence chuckled. “I get it. You made a joke.”

  “Yeah,” Hawkins admitted, “but it had a serious side to it.”

  Colonel Nolan, as commanding officer of Fort Terral, spoke up. “Listen, gentlemen. I’ll have a telegraph message sent to the North West Mounted Police garrison at Fort Beaverton. Meanwhile, I suggest that the Winchester rifles with ammunition be issued to Captain Hawkins’ detachment.”

  “I’ll take care of that with Mr. Pleasence,” Graham stated.

  Hawkins was so tickled he almost burst out in happy laughter. “I take it Fort Terral has a shooting range, correct?”

  “It’s on the north side of the garrison,” Graham informed him. “There are various firing lines to shoot from. One hundred, two hundred and three hundred yards.”

  “We’ll be using the one hundred yard position,” Hawkins said. “Our battles are going to be close-up enough to see the whites of their eyes; as the old saying goes.”

  “We can supply targets if you desire. We have paper ones and planks that can be stuck in the ground.”

  “We’ll take the planks,” Hawkins said.

  “Anything else gentlemen?” the colonel asked. “No? Then let’s get started.”

  That same afternoon found Captain Hawkins, Lieutenant Dooley and the scouts standing at the one hundred yard firing line at the Fort Terral range. Everyone, including the officers, had a Winchester Model 1873 rifle and a full bandoleer of ammunition.

  The first thing Hawkins wanted to do was familiarize his troops with this new weapon. He showed them the features of the folding rear sight. “Only use that for long shots,” the captain instructed. “Most of the time, we’ll be firing at short ranges as you all know.”

  Then he demonstrated how to load the ammunition tube. The scouts quickly caught on, pushing fifteen rounds into their individual rifles. “Now we have the lever,” Hawkins continued. “When you move it down; it cocks the hammer while pulling the bolt back, to eject the cartridge just fired. When you move it back up, the bolt pushes a new cartridge into the chamber.”

  The scouts worked the levers several times, ejecting cartridges that fell to the ground. With that lesson learned, they returned the bullets to the tube. Now everyone was anxious to take shots at the thirty planks downrange.

  The actual firing was done in the standing, squatting, sitting and prone positions. The railroad’s more than ample supply of ammunition was such that the bullets didn’t have to be fired sparingly. Thus each individual was able to shoot fifteen rounds in each stance. Everyone noticed the hard recoils, but weren’t bothered a bit.

  “Aw!” Tall Bear exclaimed after firing several rounds. “These guns big medicine.”

  When the sixtieth rounds of each rifle had been fired, Hawkins called a halt to the exercise. All the planks had been blasted to pieces. The captain was satisfied his detachment was ready to renew the mission.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  On the afternoon following the firing of the Winchester 73’s, Hawkins and Ludlow were called back to post headquarters. When the pair arrived, they found Colonel Nolan, Lieutenant Graham and James Pleasence waiting for them. Graham handed the telegraph reply from the North West Mounted Police to Hawkins. The captain held it so Ludlow could read the transmission with him.

  To: Colonel William Nolan, United States Army, Commanding Officer, Fort Terral, Montana

  From: Chief Superintendent J.R. Tallmadge, Canadian North West Mounted Police, Commanding Officer, Fort Beaverton, Alberta

  your request for permission to enter canada is hereby approved under certain conditions. a late-developing situation here seems to be connected with the mission of the american captain and his detachment who accidently crossed over our border. for that reason an nwmp inspector, sergeant and constable will be assigned to join up with the americans. more will be explained when they meet your men in the same location where the captain had previously crossed into canada. our men will be able to rendezvous with them within forty-eight hours.

  Ludlow’s curiosity was tweaked. “I wonder what that situation could be that is linked to us. I suppose we won’t get all the facts until after we’ve arrived in Canada.”

  “Damn it!” Hawkins cussed, “here’s another dilemma to work through.”

  The preparations for renewing the mission was dé-jà vu for the officers and men of the Kiowa-Comanche Scout Detachment. Tony the mule was trotted out once again and supplies of rations and ammunition were loaded on the faithful animal’s back. Red Moon quickly volunteered to be responsible for him.

  Since the men would be bringing their horses, they were able to take along some comfort items purchased at the Fort Terral trading post. Most of this was canned goods of soup, fish and fruit along with sweets and crackers. That latter item meant they wouldn’t have to gnaw at hardtack for a couple of weeks and would not have to purchase any bread from Mandy at Campbell’s Trading Post. They had nothing against the woman’s baking skills; Hawkins didn’t want to spend any more of the funds given them by the railroad since any left-over money could be kept for the detachment members’ own personal use.

  Hawkins and Ludlow were summoned to another conference with Colonel Nolan and James Pleasence. This dealt with instructions on several aspects regarding the new mission. These matters concerned the proper way to deal with the Canadians, handling prisoners, certain political protocols and United States Army regulations. Hawkins listened carefully, then quickly decided to ignore any constraints on his plans of action, no matter what the established rules were. He kept this point of view to himself to avoid any delays that would be caused by worried superior officers.

  With all preparations and instructions taken care of, Captain Hawkins once more led his men out of Fort Terral and up the Haut-Prairie Gap. The Winchester 73’s were longer than the Springfield carbines and looked odd sticking out of the weapons boots on the sides of the saddles. But, as Sergeant Eagle Heart remarked, “Make more easy to grab ’em.”

  The detachment’s entrance into the site of Campbell’s Trading Post was acknowledged in the usual manner by the inhabitants. Philip Morgan stepped out on the porch of his establishment, but his smile of welcome faded as the officers and scouts merely nodded to him, then continued out the other side of the settlement.

  Mandy the bread lady appeared and walked along Hawkins’ horse. “You want to buy some bread, Cap’n?”

  “Sorry, Mandy,” he replied. “We don’t have time to stop.”

  She frowned furiously, then yelled, “I hope you break your goddam teeth on that hardtack!”

  Ludlow looked over at her and politely tipped his hat. “And a good day to you as well, madam.”

  After they passed through the settlement and had gone a mile, Scout Tall Bear was put on point. With that done, the riders continued the northern trek into the mountains. Within an hour the detachment had to dismount as they entered an area of thick forest. By then they were familiar with the process of dealing with thick stands of trees, and managed things much better than during their first visit to the area. After a couple of hours of trudging upwards, they reached a gentle slope and remembered an open area that wasn’t far away. It was where they entered Canada the last time.

  Within a few minutes the detachment emerged from the woods, and Hawkins called out an order to halt. Three men, drinking coffee aroun
d a campfire, were to their direct front. The trio got to their feet and the detachment recognized Sergeant Stewart Duff and Constable Henry Turpin. The third man stepped forward with his hand outstretched. “Good afternoon. I am Inspector Watson.”

  Hawkins noticed the greeter wore the same brown cotton duck jacket as his companions, but had a single insignia of a crown pinned to each epaulet. The captain wasn’t sure about a rank titled “inspector,” but he assumed him to be an officer. They shook hands and Hawkins introduced himself and Ludlow.

  Watson had a rugged appearance and a no-nonsense glint in his blue eyes. “Welcome to Canada, Captain Hawkins. I believe you’ve already met Sergeant Duff and Constable Turpin.”

  “We sure have.”

  Watson glanced over at the scouts. “They told me about your native troops. So those fellows are enlisted in the American Army as regular soldiers, ’ey?”

  “That’s right,” Hawkins replied a bit impatiently. “My lieutenant and I are very curious about the connection you might have with our mission.”

  “Yes,” Ludlow said. “We would like to be enlightened.”

  “Certainly,” Watson replied. “We have a fresh-brewed pot of coffee. I suggest you gentlemen get your cups and join us here.”

  Hawkins replied, “I’ll include my sergeant in the confab.”

  When the coffee was poured, the two American officers and the Kiowa sergeant sat down on the ground with the Canadians.

  Watson didn’t waste any more time. “I’m sure you remember that fellow you were trailing when you encountered my two Mounties, ’ey?

  “Mounties?” Ludlow asked.

  Watson grinned. “Excuse me. That’s how we’re referred to here. At any rate he was from a mining camp that took their nuggets to be assayed at Deer Creek. However, we’ve lately discovered that there are no assay facilities at Deer Creek. And there haven’t been for over twenty years. That makes us curious about where they’ve been hauling all that gold. We suspect it is being hidden to avoid any taxes or levies.”