Wolves of Eden

by Kevin McCarthy

  I made a prayer to God In Heaven. “Please Holy God Take Sgt. Nevin from here & keep him now beside You for the Devil has already done his filthy work. Seat him with You in Heaven Holy God because this place is no more for him & he is no longer fit for it.” But God as He is want did not listen to me at all.

  With the mules at last harnessed we made an escort around the wagon as the timber man & the soldier in the wagon bed with him tried to pour water through Nevin’s lips but I could not see if he could take it.

  All I can tell you now is that the 5 mile journey back to the Ft. felt a life time & again I prayed that our Sgt. would die & be free from his terrors & his torment but he did not pass on yet but instead lived for 10 more hours. A harder man to kill you will never in your life meet but this quality does not always be a blessing.

  If my prayers were answered & he did pass on in that wagon bed then all that was to happen later that night might not of happened. If one thing was different or if God ever listened to a single prayer I made—​

  44

  December 20, 1866—​Fort Phil Kearny, Dakota Territory

  PALE LIGHT FLARES AS THE GUARDHOUSE DOOR OPENS.

  “Daniel, my dear Daniel.” Molloy is propped on his new crutches.

  “Captain, you should not be out of your bed.”

  Molloy laughs and begins to cough. He holds a handkerchief to his mouth and hacks, heavy and liquid into it. Kohn sees blood in the kerchief as the captain wipes his lips.

  “I have come to see your prisoner, Dan. I hear he has a testament of sorts for my eyes only.”

  Kohn notes how weak is Molloy’s voice—​the officer’s skin yellow, malign shadows under his eyes—​as he guides him to the woodstove to warm himself. “It is near a book now, sir. He wants to see his brother, he says, before he can finish it.”

  “A book . . . ​fine thing. I will sit with him and read it but he won’t be seeing his brother any time soon I don’t imagine. The surgeon’s dog has told me he’s skedaddled.”

  Kohn shakes his head. “I could have told you it would happen, sir.”

  “Daniel, you make me weary with your hard charging.”

  There is a stirring behind the cell door and then a banging on the door. “What is that, sir? What did you say of my brother?”

  Molloy crutches over to the door and opens the Judas hole. “You should not take it as gospel, my friend. It is said he has deserted but that may be false. There is worse news you could hear of him around this valley I would imagine.”

  Michael O’Driscoll says, “He would not run without me, sir.”

  “I can only tell you what is said, Private. I’m sorry for your troubles.”

  Michael O’Driscoll curses under his breath in Irish.

  Molloy smiles and says, “If your brother is a bastard, Private, pray what does that make yourself?”

  The prisoner does not smile. “I did forget you can speak in the Gaelic, sir.”

  “Would it have changed the sentiment if you remembered?”

  “No, sir.” Michael turns away from the Judas hole and goes back to the open ledger on his desk. “It would not change a thing for either of us.” He begins to write, scratching hard at the page, and the officer watches for a moment.

  Molloy then hobbles back to the table and sits. “Boil that kettle, Kohn, and we will have coffee. And pour a mug for Mr. O’Driscoll, hard at his labors.”

  “He’s had his grub, sir.”

  “He will need it to go on, Kohn, if he is to finish his tome. And paint the three mugs with this,” Molloy says, placing a half-​empty bottle of whiskey on the table.

  Kohn turns away from Molloy. “It is cold in here, sir. You will catch your death.”

  Molloy smiles at Kohn. “Daniel, my friend, I caught that some years ago, as you well know.”

  45

  THE NIGHT YOU WISH TO HEAR ABOUT & THE END OF THIS TESTAMENT

  YOU HAVE SAID MY BROTHER IS IN THE WIND NOW SO there is no reason for me to go on or there does be every reason. In truth I do not know which but I feel I am come this far so must finish now. And you are owed it I suppose. I cannot forget what you did for us once that day at Chickamauga though it does seem another lifetime ago. It is strange to think of the War as a simpler time for us but put agin the spot you find me in now it does. Was it a simpler time for you too Sir? But that is by the by.

  Anyway I need not tell you that when we returned to the Ft. & word went round of poor Sgt. Nevin’s torture at the hands of the savages well all of us not on picket or fatigue went for to stand vigil outside the hospital barracks & we did stand there until the Surgeon came out & ordered us away telling us that he & his nurses would do all they could for the 1st Sgt. but that prayers was what he needed not men standing round waiting. He told us that our vigilance would be better served watching for another raiding party such as the one who did for our beloved 1st Shirt Nevin.

  And so we all did mope back to barracks to light the stoves as normal though not many were in mind to take food. But as you might imagine Sir all were of a particular mind to take a drink & as dusk turned to darkness the whiskey it became like tinder to the fires of fury in the camp.

  It was late when a fellow coming off picket let us all know that the good Sgt. was dead finally & Thank God for that. There was a long silence then with men just sitting & thinking I can only imagine what. The silence was finally broke by my fine Italian friend. “Red b_______,” Johnny Napoli said aloud in his Italian way & Pvt. Rogers from Cincinnati said he would like to gut every living last red skinned c___  on the plains of America & more boys said the same & jugs did be tipped & drunk while lo & behold someone of us did know where to find some Indians G__  D_____  It All & we did decide right then we would send them straight to Hell we would.

  Though none of us could see it from inside the stockade we all knew of the loafer camp just outside the Ft. for we passed it or looked down upon its pointed tee pees from the sentry stands nigh every day. Living in this camp is the so called friendly Cheyanne who are not joined up with Red Cloud & his Bad Face mob to fight agin the U.S. Army. They claim to want peace & carry letters of safe passage signed by Carrington the Carpenter himself. They are not our enemy in that camp & truly they are a harmless rabble of old folk & women & babbies & some men who be more fond of trade sap than hunting. But it did not matter to us were they friend or foe only that they were f_____  Indians.

  What we would not do to them I tell you Sir such was our terrible thirst for blood & like one man the raging bitter gang of us got up & made for the livestock gate wicket which is closest to the riverbank by which the friendlies make their camp. It was a terrible sight this wild herd of men some of us hefting pistols & others muskets & skinning knives. In my own belt was my pistols & my brother had his too & of course his mighty D Bar knife & I am now brim full of shame to say I joined that mob with murderous intent in my heart.

  The pickets on the livestock gate did nothing to halt us they just swung it right open for us for they fully approved of our action & we did maraud in silence from the Ft. with not one of us thinking that aside from them friendly Indians in the camp there perhaps might be proper hostiles in the grass or in the cottonwoods along the Little Piney bank. No we did not think this & only for the night’s blackness to keep us from running we walked slowly towards that camp like snake’s venom working its way up a man’s arm.

  I tell you Sir a man could hear the grass swish about his legs as he walked & the rasp of sabres & knives as boys drew them from scabbards. Rounding the bend in the riverbank I could see the Indians now in the light from their fires & their dogs took to barking upon seeing or smelling us. In scarce a minute we would be upon them & as we closed on that camp some 50 yds. away 1 or 2 stood up to look into the darkness while others just sat on like it was their fate that such a horde be coming for them in the black of night & they did not seem to fear what was coming for that thing was already there & it was us.

  It brings shame upon me to w
rite it but as we neared the camp I picked out the Indian I would shoot down 1st for all the rage & fear of the weeks & months in this Valley was in me that night. It was a rage for all the dead comrades & timber men & stolen horses & cattle surely but mostly it was for Sgt. Nevin who we all loved. I thought again of him in that wagon bed with his body pierced by arrows & his balls & hair cut clean off. That man did not deserve to die in such a way. Well all of this came rising up in my breast & it was like I had no control at all of what was inside me.

  Closer we got & I could hear a babby crying from one of the tee pees & 1 of the Indians by a cook fire held out his letter from Carrington of safe passage & by God you would not wipe your arse with that paper or mop up blood with it & though we did try to be quiet about things there is no way for 50 men with drink & rage upon them to be quiet about anything in the world. Every one of us had a weapon drawn. My heart beat hard in my breast harder than it did any other time I met an enemy in battle.

  I raised my Colt & began to run towards that camp of Indians when of a sudden there came the rumble of hooves & I did halt fearing attack. It was not Indians on them horses though for someone must of gone informing Carrington of what was afoot because he & Capt. Van Eyke & a whole body of officers & some of the new cavalry men came from the main gate riding like Hell’s raiders & as one our whole mob turned to the sound of their coming & their terrible shouting to Stop! & Halt! & What did we think we were at? & Back to the Ft. for you lousy f_____  no good b_______  or you will be strung up like game birds!

  Well we were all like a man woken from a terrible dream & the officers & soreasses rode in rings about us some of them splashing in the shallow river lashing out with their reins & others batting at us with the flat of their cutlass blades while our mob took to running. I went myself one way & my brother another until he turned back & took hold of my arm.

  “This way!” says Tom to me. “Tell Metzy to come this way!”

  So finding a gap in the furious circle of cavalry we 3 did run opposite the direction of most boys who tried to make for the Ft. We instead ran away from the stockade into the darkness of the cottonwood trees on the banks of the river just below the Indian camp & for a moment I did think that my brother was circling back on the loafer camp to wage his terrible vengeance for our poor 1st Sgt. come hell or high water. But now I did not want this for that babby’s cry was still fresh in my ears but Tom was not thinking this Thank God. Maybe in his heart he could not bring his own self to cut down kids & squaws for even he is not so mad or bad or wild as that but I am not sure of this.

  “Wait,” says he there in the darkness of the trees so we stopped to watch as Carrington & the cavalry boys rounded up many of the mob & drove them like beasts back through the livestock gate some jogging & some walking with heads held low like they were caught at something filthy in the night.

  “They will be f______  rightly,” says Tom.

  “And so will we Tom,” says I. Metzy leant over with his hands on his knees sucking wind.

  I will confess that part of me rose up in respect for the Carpenter Carrington but another part of me did hate him there in his saddle lashing boys with his reins & roaring orders for them to return to post. If only he could be so fierce & bloody minded in the face of the Sioux & Cheyanne b_______  who kilt Nevin as he was in defence of them he might be some sort of officer finally but I was not thinking straight that night you surely can see that I was not.

  “Well what will we do now brother?” says I to Tom in Irish & then again in English for the sake of Metzger.

  “We will go to Kinney’s,” says he.

  “Is all you can think about for the love of God?” says I back to him.

  “No,” says he. “We will be hauled up for quitting the post if we are caught at the shebeen but that is a lesser crime than trying to kill them friendly Indians. We will take a rotten detail or 2 for whoring against Carrington’s orders but them boys will be for it far worse. Do you see it brother?”

  I did see it though I did also see it would give him fair chance to meet his girl either way but I did not mind. For the day had been hard & I could not think of anything else to do then. I felt only a fierce sadness for Sgt. Nevin & a sudden terrible fear standing there in the shadows of the trees on the river bank even if I could see the Ft. only 100 yds. away. I tell you I felt the fear of death there in the cottonwoods. I felt so far far away from my home in Ireland as far away from it as I could be & all alone in the world at that minute as if my brother was not with me at all & in a way he was not for his head was in other places altogether.

  Well this fear took the place of the rage I felt before. Cold goose flesh came out on my back & all I could want was for to be inside some place warm any old place at all that would let me think that I was not in this Godforsaken pit this horrible dark Valley of Absaraka. Such guilt & fear I felt there I could of wept bitter tears for what I was just then. Nearly a butcher of babbies & women. A lost soul with no home at all in the world. I was a black hearted thing as black as a crow altogether.

  I know now I should of gone back to the Ft. & took my medicine like a man but what a fellow knows now means nothing to what he did then.

  Instead of returning to the Ft. my brother said for us to follow him & we did crossing the Little Piney stumbling over rocks & stones at a shallow point. Our boots were soaked through but we were afraid to take them off lest we crack an ankle in the dark rushing water that covered only our shins but was still treacherous to us in our state of agitation & with the drink upon us.

  So with wet boots we followed the opposite bank of the river around the back end of the Ft. some time later leaving the river bank to tramp through the long grass making 3 dark shadows tween Pilot Hill & the palisade. Well we could of been wolves there in the darkness & chill night air of autumn. Such was the labours of our silent march we broke a sweat by the time of reaching Kinney’s hog ranch & we brought the cold of the air into that low rank dugout with us.

  My brother did be smiling as we went inside because there his girl was sat in the corner though she was not smiling I tell you. Says Tom, “Whiskey Mr. Kinney & keep it coming & if you are asked we were here all evening for there is malice afoot outside & we should not be caught up in it.”

  I repeated Tom’s words to the Sutler for they were muddled in his mouth with the whiskey already on him & the cold of our journey. 1 of the whores came up to Metzy now it was his favourite the 1/2 mad squaw girl who was beaten with the fire iron by the mistress of the ranch as I told you before. Well this hen says to Metzy, “Take off your boots & sit here by the fire Metzy my little Metzy.” So he did & we all took off our wet boots & socks & hung them there about the fire & before long they did set to steaming on the pot irons above the flames while we took our jugs of red eye & set to drink it.

  I did not tell you that Ridgeway was already there on our arrival. I wish to God he was not. But there he was sitting at the bar with his picture making kit in its trunk against the wall near where the muleskinner sat.

  Now it does pain me to say it but I felt a stab of spite for Ridgeway him there all the time in the kip house making his pictures of the whores & playing at or indeed being a great friend to Kinney & his wife who were nothing to me but scheming greedy Devils far below the likes of our Ridgeway. But in truth that Quaker boy did be better in all ways than the low borne likes of myself & my brother too for he did not judge anybody roughly but instead had a kind word for everyone. But spite did rise in my breast all the same.

  Says Ridgeway, “Michael I am terribly sorry to hear of Sgt. Nevin’s misfortune. A terrible day for him. A terrible day for us all.”

  I gave a nod but did not go over to him because of my spite. Instead I set by the fire & held my toes out to it like I might take some joy in the heat but there was no joy in me then not even in a whorehouse with a jug of whiskey to warm me & more coming. No there was no joy in such a place on such a day.

  “To Sgt. Nevin!” said my brother out of t
he silence. “May God Keep Him.” We all raised our glasses to his memory not hardly able to say his name. 1st Sgt. Nevin. William Nevin. And as if God could hear us in the Heavens or the Devil down below the wind began to blow like a bellows & smoke choked back down the chimney & our eyes & the eyes of all the whores & the muleskinner on his seat in the corner did sting red.

  Tom had his arm around his girl & he alone was smiling. I did not know if it was the smoke or just the thought of Sgt. Nevin but tears began to run down my face & down Metzy’s face too & Ridgeway came over to us & set on a stool but just outside our little circle of whores & soldiers saying nothing.

  I tipped some of my whiskey into the fire & the flames did flare up & it was like Nevin’s spirit ascending or maybe I was just dolted with drink to think such a thing.

  Says Metzy now, “Will I play us a tune boys?” And though I did not feel like singing it was the proper thing to do for Nevin did always like a sing song & so I said this.

  “Nevin would not have us acting like kids with no cake about the place boys. He would want us to raise a glass & wake him with a song or 2 well would he not?”

  “He would,” says my brother.

  “Then get us that fiddle that f_____ plank of wood that sounds like a strangling cat Mr. Kinney,” says Metzy to the Sutler who did not smile but did not object for joy in a hog ranch meant more coin in his trousers & he fetched the fiddle with its warp you could see across the room so a boy would nearly have to play it arsewise. “And another shoulder of Bust Head there too,” says my brother & the Sutler went back to the bar like he did not hear him but still came back with the whiskey.

  Well the singing & playing did start up rightly then. Even one of the whores sung a song for Sgt. Nevin in her own tongue & though her song was an Indian lament it did not bother the lot of us because it was well intended & soon the stools & chairs got moved back & we begun to dance with the whores & with each other with only Tom’s girl to stay sitting for she did not look well. And as always (I will never forget it as long as I live which may not be long) but that G___  D_____  cuckoo clock did set to cooing & ringing in the hour of 2 in the morning & Tom’s girl started at the sound like she knew that clock was counting down to something.