Trial at Fort Keogh

by Charles G. West

  “I help,” Rena said, and went to get her shawl right away.

  “Clint . . . ,” Hope stammered, unable to say more, still shocked by his sudden appearance and the awkwardness it created.

  Equally confused, Justin was speechless for a few moments, not knowing what to do. Finally his brain started working again, and he realized that he should take action of some kind, but he wasn’t sure what. He carried no weapon, and Clint was armed, a .44 Colt on his hip. The authority of the U.S. Army was the only thing he had, so he attempted to use it. “Cooper, you are wanted for the murder of the deputy sheriff of Miles City. I’ll have to ask you to hand over your weapon. You’re under arrest.”

  Clint was in no mood to spar with the lieutenant. His concern was to get help for Ben as quickly as possible. “Now, wouldn’t I be a damn fool to hand you my gun?” he said. “I don’t have the time or the patience to fight with you. I didn’t murder anybody. Mace Yeager faced me and we shot it out. He shot me, and I shot him, but my shot was a better one, and he lost. Those are the facts, and there were witnesses who saw the whole thing. Right now there’s a man who needs help, and that’s the most important thing. So don’t get in my way and make me do something I don’t wanna do.” He opened the door, held it for Rena, then followed her outside, leaving Justin in a state of total confusion.

  Quick to recover her composure, Hope sought to calm Justin, since it was obvious that her young suitor was struggling with indecision. “Justin,” she said as calmly as she could manage, “Clint is not a murderer. Simon Yeager lied to your commanding officer. You’ve got to believe that. Like Clint just said, there were people who saw the fight between him and Mace Yeager. If they tell the truth, they’ll prove that it was not murder.”

  Somewhat recovered, Justin tried to think rationally about the situation he found himself in, so he could decide what action he should take. “It’s not for me to say if he’s guilty or not,” he pleaded, trying to make her understand his position. “He’s a wanted man, and I’m obligated to arrest him.”

  “You’re liable to get yourself killed if you try.” The statement came from Randolph Valentine, who walked into the kitchen at that moment. He had heard enough of the conversation from the parlor to know what had been said. “Right now the best thing for you to do is to let him be while he’s seeing about getting some help for Ben. Once that’s taken care of, we can sort this whole thing out.”

  Justin was not alone in having critical decisions to make. Valentine was forced to take actions that might or might not put him on uncertain ground with the army. There could well be retribution for harboring a felon. He was sure of one thing, however: it would not do for the lieutenant to force Clint’s hand right now. Ben Hawkins was more than a fellow worker to Clint. He was more like an uncle, and Clint was likely to react violently to any interference with his attempt to take care of him.

  A bit calmer now, yet still uncertain, Justin responded to Valentine’s advice. “I understand what you’re telling me, sir, but I don’t see that I have any choice but to do my duty as an officer.”

  Valentine’s brain was working hard to arrive at the best way to handle the dilemma that Ben’s wound had created. He couldn’t help thinking that it would solve the immediate problem if Clint jumped on his horse and hightailed it out of there. But he knew that wasn’t going to happen until Clint was sure Ben was going to be all right.

  On the other hand, these charges against Clint would have to be resolved. Otherwise he would be condemned to a life as a wanted man, and the only way that was not going to happen was to clear his name. And for that to occur, it was going to take a fair trial. His mind made up now, he responded to Justin’s statement.

  “I appreciate your sense of duty, son. But I don’t want to see you get yourself killed. I’m agreeing with your position that Clint’s wanted, and should be arrested. And I’ll argue that with Clint for you, if you’ll guarantee me that he’ll be arrested by the army, tried by army judges, and not turned over to Simon Yeager and that town of cowards that he’s got buffaloed. Think you can do that?”

  Justin thought it over for a moment before responding. It gave him a way out of his immediate problem, but he could only hope to persuade his superiors to agree. “I think Major Kinsey might agree to do that,” he said, “but I can’t say for sure.” Thinking to make a show of bravado for Hope’s benefit, he added a comment. “I’m not sure, but what I should take him into custody right now, though.”

  The remark caused Valentine to flare up in agitation. “Boy!” he scolded. “I’m not worried about Clint right now. I’m worried about you, and what would happen to you if you pushed Clint too hard right now.” He fixed the nervous young officer with a steel-like expression. “The way this thing would have to work is for you to go back to the fort and tell them what the deal is. Then come back here with a detail of troopers to escort Clint back to the fort for trial. I’ll try to convince Clint that it’s the best thing to do to clear his name. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, sir,” Justin answered. “I expect we would agree to that.”

  “Good,” Valentine said. “Now you and Hope sit back down and finish your coffee and cake, or whatever it was you were doing, and I’ll go talk to Clint.” He went out the back door, knowing he had another argument to win, this one maybe harder than the one just finished.

  * * *

  When Valentine got to the bunkhouse, Ben was unconscious and Rena was working over him, using a long, sharp skinning knife. Clint, Charley, Jody, and Hank stood on one side of the bunk, watching the crude surgery.

  “Is he gonna make it?” Valentine asked after he watched for a few minutes.

  “Maybe, not sure,” the always somber woman said, and continued probing in the hole in Ben’s abdomen as his blood flowed freely, soaking the straw tick mattress. When finally she removed the lead slug, she held it up for Clint to see. “Bad,” she said. “Have to see how strong he is now.”

  “He’ll make it,” Clint told her. “He’s too ornery to die from one little ol’ bullet.” She looked at him, smiled, and nodded. He moved closer to the bunk while Rena cleaned up some of the blood.

  “Who shot him?” Valentine asked.

  “Like I told Charley, I’m pretty sure it was those two deputies of Yeager’s that bushwhacked us,” Clint said. “I’ll know for sure when I find ’em.” He didn’t say how he’d know, but he felt certain that he had nicked one of them before they ran.

  “We’ve got something we’ve got to talk over,” Valentine said.

  Clint could easily guess what that was. “You mean your daughter’s pretty little lieutenant?” he asked sarcastically. “As long as he stays up there at the house, there won’t be any problem. I’ll ride on out as soon as Ben looks like he’s all right. I’ve got a little chore I’ve got to tend to.”

  “That’s what we need to talk about,” Valentine said. “Let’s walk outside for a minute.”

  Clint followed him out the door, wondering what the old man had in mind. They walked around the end of the bunkhouse to get out of the wind before Valentine continued. “I know what you’re thinking, but before you tangle with any more of that crowd in town, I think it would be best for you to surrender to the army.”

  Clint’s reaction was just as Valentine expected. He physically recoiled, and Valentine quickly pleaded, “Hear me out, before you go off half-cocked.”

  He went on to relate the agreement he had reached with Justin and explained why Clint should consider it. “You’ve got a good chance of being found not guilty, if those people who saw the fight you had with Mace Yeager will come forward and testify truthfully. And damn it, Clint, you don’t want to go through the rest of your life as a wanted man, riding off to some other remote wilderness every time civilization gets a little too close for comfort.” He paused for a moment before continuing, wondering if it was the right time to share his thoughts regarding anoth
er matter. “There’s another reason I want you to clear your name. I need you here. I’m very much aware of the fact that I’m getting older every day. I’ve worked hard to build the Double-V-Bar to the working ranch it is today, but I’m tired. Two, maybe three, more years are about all I’ve got left before I’m ready for the rocking chair, and I don’t want to see all my work go for nothing. I need a man I can trust to take over the management of this ranch, one who’ll take care of Hope and Rena, too. You’re that man, but you won’t be much good to me if you’re hiding out somewhere on the other side of the divide.”

  It was a mouthful, and one that threatened to overload Clint’s brain. He knew that he was Valentine’s top hand, but he never suspected he was held in such high regard by his boss. He had actually never given any thought toward the future beyond next spring’s roundup and making it through the winter without losing too many head of cattle. The prospects of managing the total operation of the ranch were certainly incentive enough to make him think carefully about what he was about to do.

  Things could change, however. When her father died, the Double-V-Bar would surely go to Hope, and she might see things differently than the old man did. If Hope went on to marry Justin Landry, which seemed to be the way things were headed, she and her new husband might not want him to be the main decision-maker. There was certainly no bond of friendship between the two young men. In fact, there was a constant state of competition between them that Clint was sure Hope knew nothing about.

  On the other hand, there might be the possibility that Hope was not interested in running the Double-V-Bar, and could be attracted more by the prospect of being the wife of a career army officer. And Justin most likely had a bright future, since he was a West Point man, whose father was a West Point man. They might be content to let Clint run the ranch while they climbed the military ladder to the top. All these thoughts ran through his mind in a matter of seconds, as Valentine studied his face anxiously, waiting for his decision.

  “I expect it would be the smart thing to do, in the long run,” Clint finally decided, although he had a strong need to punish Yeager’s two henchmen for wounding Ben.

  “Then you’ll do it?” Valentine asked, needing assurance.

  “Yes, sir,” Clint said. “I reckon you know best, but I’ve got to know that Ben’s gonna be all right before I do.”

  “Let’s see what Rena says,” Valentine said. “But I think the sooner we get this thing done, the better. I thought it best for the army to send an escort of soldiers to take you in to Fort Keogh, but maybe it would be better if you ride back to the fort with Justin tonight. He can make sure they understand that you’re surrendering for trial on your own accord because you’re innocent.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Clint said, “after I talk to Rena.” They went back inside the bunkhouse then to find that Ben was awake. “How you doin’, partner?” Clint asked.

  Ben looked at him with eyes only half-open, a painful frown on his weathered face. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “I thought I was dead and gone to hell, ’cause I felt the devil’s hellfire. It was so hot it woke me up.”

  Clint glanced at Rena. She nodded and said, “I pour whiskey in wound.”

  Clint nodded back, understanding. “How is he, Rena?”

  “He make it. Long time, though,” she replied.

  That was enough to ease Clint’s immediate concern. He was not sure why, but he always trusted the Crow woman’s instincts. He turned to his boss, then. “All right, let’s go up to the house and talk to Landry.”

  It was a shaky truce between the two men, but both agreed to abide by the agreement as put forth by Randolph Valentine. The person who seemed the most concerned, understandably, was Hope Valentine, for she genuinely cared for both of them, although in different degrees of intensity. In one way or another, these two men, along with her father, were the most important men in her life.

  When all was settled, it was already after dark, and a later hour than Justin would normally have said his good-byes to Hope and headed back to Fort Keogh.

  “Well, let’s get goin’, if we’re gonna,” Clint said.

  “Right,” Justin replied. “I’ll ask you to turn your weapons over to me now.”

  “And I’ll ask you to go to hell,” Clint responded curtly.

  “Do I have to remind you that you’re under arrest?” Justin said.

  “Like hell I am,” Clint replied. “I just agreed to go back with you. I’m not under arrest until we get on the post, and that’s when I’ll turn my weapons over.”

  At once flustered, Justin looked to Valentine for help. Valentine shook his head, perplexed. They hadn’t even left the ranch and already they were pecking away at each other like a couple of roosters.

  With a tired sigh, he again assured Justin that he could trust Clint to keep his word. “Remember, Clint is volunteering to go with you, so you need to make a few exceptions for his attitude.” He turned to Clint then. “And you need to realize the position Justin’s in. He’s a soldier and subject to follow his orders. He’s agreeing to help you get the true story to his superiors so your name can be cleared. So, damn it, Clint, don’t be so hardheaded.”

  Clint couldn’t suppress a chuckle. It was the first time Valentine had spoken to him like a father to a rambunctious son. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll go along with it, and hope I get a fair hearin’.” He offered his hand to Justin, who accepted it after a slight hesitation. There was still the issue of Hope’s feelings for the tall, dark rifleman. Justin was not comfortable with Hope’s apparent fondness for her father’s top hand. “I don’t need an army escort,” Clint said. “I’ll ride back with you tonight, since Rena thinks Ben’s gonna make it.”

  Clint walked outside with Valentine while Justin took a moment to say good night to Hope. “You’re doing the right thing,” Valentine said to him while he checked Sam to make sure the big bay was ready to ride.

  “I reckon,” Clint replied, “if you think so.” They paused then when Justin and Hope came outside.

  When the lieutenant walked to the hitching rail to untie his horse, Hope moved close to Clint and placed her hand on his arm.

  “Take care of him,” she whispered, then said, “Take care of yourself, too. I hope everything works out like it’s supposed to.”

  “Huh.” A grunt was his only response. That’s the second time she’s asked me to take care of him, he thought, and the request didn’t sit very well with him the first time. He climbed up on Sam then and turned to wait for Justin to come alongside.

  “I’ll be over to see the commanding officer tomorrow,” Valentine said to Clint. “I intend to see that you get a fair hearing.” He stepped back then and watched the two young men ride out to the Miles City trail.

  * * *

  “They’re fixin’ to ride out,” Blankenship said, gritting his teeth against the constant throbbing of his left wrist. “It’s him, all right, but it looks like a soldier with him. Now where the hell’s he goin’?”

  It was a clear, starry night, and the two outlaws could plainly see the two riders from the low ridge north of the ranch. They had followed their prey to this point after returning to the line shack only to find it abandoned. The tracks of two horses and the distinct ruts left by a travois in the snow were easy enough to follow, however, and led them to the Double-V-Bar. Now, as they watched the two riding out toward the trail that led into town, it was tempting to take the shot, but they were not anxious to stir up the whole ranch crew to get on their tails.

  “They’re headin’ to Fort Keogh,” Curly said, after a few moments. “We need to get on out ahead of ’em and wait for ’em to get a little piece from the ranch so we don’t have the whole Double-V-Bar after our asses.”

  There were many places to wait in ambush along the five-mile trail to the fort. It would be an easy thing to shoot Cooper and the soldier and be long gone b
efore anyone could come from the ranch, even if they heard the shots.

  “Let’s go!” Blankenship snapped, and they hustled back down the slope to get to their horses.

  The spot they both agreed to be perfect was at a point where the trail followed a narrow ravine between the ends of two ridges before opening up to a flat stretch of prairie. There was a tall rock tower standing a couple of dozen yards or so from the mouth of the ravine. After they left their horses behind a thin stand of scrubby pine trees, they hurried back to the top at one end of the ridge. Not willing to test his accuracy with a pistol at a range more suited to a rifle, Blankenship pulled his Spencer from the saddle scabbard. He was sure he could be accurate enough, even with his injured left hand, if he lay flat on the ground and rested the barrel across his forearm.

  It was not long before Clint and Justin approached the narrow entrance to the rocky ravine, guarded by the rock formation named the Parson’s Nose, with Clint leading. Riding at a comfortable gait, he guided Sam to the steeper side where the darker shadows cloaked the floor. There was no particular reason to hold close to the side. It was more habit than conscious thought. He always rode close to that side when going to the fort. The footing was better for his horse. There was no sound other than the creaking of the saddle leather until Sam’s ears pricked and he suddenly snorted. Immediately alert to signals from the horse, Clint reined back hard. Then he heard an answering neigh from the direction of a small clump of pines. His first thought was another Sioux raiding party.

  Justin pulled up beside him. “What is it? Why did you stop?”

  “Something ain’t right,” Clint said softly. “There’s a horse over in those pines somewhere.”

  “How do you know that?” Justin asked.

  “I just heard him answer Sam,” Clint said. “Didn’t you hear it?”

  “No, I didn’t hear anything. You must be a little jumpy. I’ll lead.” He nudged his horse and pushed ahead of Clint.