by Mike Kearby
Martha nodded her head in acknowledgement of her son’s instructions.
“You keep the rest of the money. I don’t know what awaits me out there, but I promise just as soon as I can get back, I will come for you.”
“Don’t you worry, George. Me and Miss Mary will get along just fine here. You do what you need to do.”
Free took his mother into his arms and held her close. He could not believe eight months had passed since he arrived back at the farm. “I’ll be back for you.”
Martha pushed back slightly, taking a deep gaze at her son. “I know you will, George. I’ll be here waiting for your return.”
Free put a boot up in the stirrup and with little effort swung up on the horse.
“Where will you go, son?”
“Texas.”
Martha walked out of the open barn, alongside her son.
“Good-bye, Mother. Take good care of yourself. I aim to make you proud.”
He gently took spurs to the horse, leaving his mother behind him. Inside, he felt a strong urge to look back, to say something more. But he decided the better of it. There was no more to be said. The sound of the horse’s shoes on the hard ground made an unforgettable sound in his ears. From his back, a light breeze brushed against his shirt. It had the feel of his mother’s touch, gently pushing him away from the farm and toward Texas.
Chapter 6
Fort Riley, Kansas, 1867
Slack, Horse.” Parks Scott eased his mustang to a slow trot as he entered the lower parade ground at Fort Riley, Kansas. He held a string of five paint mustangs behind him. It was a beautiful Sunday morning at the fort, and many of the soldiers sat outside of their barracks enjoying the newly arrived spring.
Shortly after mustering out of the army in the spring of 1867, Parks had received a letter from Colonel Ford containing information that a great opportunity was about to present itself. According to the colonel, the United States Army was preparing to form a new cavalry unit responsible for controlling the Indians across the southern plains. And the cavalry would need mounts. As the colonel put it, the kind of horses you know how to capture and train.
The colonel’s letter had put into motion a plan that Parks hoped would flourish after his trip to Fort Riley today.
The roar of laughter snapped Parks’ attention back to the post. He listened to the insults issuing from the porch of the 7th Cavalry barracks as he rode by. No matter what military post he rode through, the commonplace jeers and insults were always similar in their rancor.
“Look at the little ponies!”
“Hey cowboy, your horse seems to be between hay and grass!”
The six mustangs stood only fourteen hands high, a foot shorter than the standard cavalry horse on the post. His personal mustang, Horse, stood only fifty-five inches at the withers.
Horse, a paint, was marked as the Comanche preferred with a splotch of color wrapping over his shoulder and around his chest. Parks leaned close in to Horse’s ear and whispered, “We’ll see who laughs in a bit.” The horse seemed to understand, lifted his head high, and began a proud trot in front of the 7th.
Parks stopped his horse at the end of the parade grounds near the flagpole. Acontingent of military personnel waited nearby, three figures standing at the front of the group.
“Lieutenant Scott?”
“Not anymore.” He swung down fromHorse and took a minute to settle his back. He had ridden, this day alone, for almost sixty miles. Twisting his neck back and forth, he looked at the three men standing before him. “Sorry, I’m a might stiff.” Two of the men cut a fine figure. Both had long flowing hair that laid shoulder length. The one with golden yellow hair was wearing a military uniform. The other had brownish hair and was dressed in buckskin.
“Mr. Scott, I am General Hancock.” The oldest of the three, a most distinguished looking gentleman spoke to Parks.
Parks sized up the officer in front of him and acknowledged his rank. “My pleasure, General. I have heard only the best words about you and your command.”
“That is very kind of you, sir.” The general pointed to the officer standing to his immediate right, the man with the long golden hair. “This is Lieutenant Colonel Custer. He is the officer responsible for organizing and establishing the cavalry here at the fort.”
“Lieutenant Colonel Custer, it is my pleasure.”
Custer nodded to Parks and walked toward the pony string.
The third man, who wore a wide brimmed scout’s hat, did not wait for introductions and immediately struck his hand towards Parks. “These are some interesting animals you broughtwith you, Mr. Scott. Allowme to introducemyself; I am James Butler Hickok, amilitary scout for the general.”
Parks knew of this man, for he was one of only a few men alive whose largeness of character and deed were well documented throughout the West.
“Mr. Hickok, your reputation precedes you. It is an honor to meet you in person.”
The man, simply known as Wild Bill, smiled graciously. “Pardon my judgment. But do you seriously believe these animals to be superior to our cavalry mounted steeds?”
Before Parks could answer, Lieutenant Colonel Custer spoke in a stern authoritative tone. “I hope I am not speaking out of turn General, but these animals do not look like horses our cavalry would be so inclined to ride.”
Parks could see genuine displeasure issuing from General Hancock’s face.
“Please excuse the lieutenant colonel’s brusqueness. He is of a background where it is better to speak one’s mind than to hold a courteousy.” The general spoke in an apologetic tone.
“No harm to me or my animal’s sir. I came per your request, as a favor of a friend.”
“Colonel Ford?”
“Yes sir. I owe the colonel much, and I felt obligated to follow this one.” Parks knew that the Indian mustang could only be verified as a superior horse if allowed to run against an American horse. “I am at your disposal, General. I was made aware that you might want to put these horses to the test.”
“I think that is the fair value of proceeding.” General Hancock responded. “But first, some food for you and your animals is in order.We’ll let them rest today and begin right away tomorrow with the test.”
Lieutenant Colonel Custer was rubbing his hand down Horse’s front shoulder. “If these animals are as hardy as Mr. Scott claims, why would they need a rest?” He turned and looked Parks square in the eye.
Parks knew he was being trifled with. And he knew Custer was coppering his bet by the challenge. “Whatever would be best for you, sir. My horses will run or rest. It matters not either way.” Parks tried to remain calm, but he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He hoped no one else noticed his uncomfortable position.
“It seems, General, lunch would be in order and afterwards a race or two,” Wild Bill offered.
General Hancock shook his head in acknowledgment of the military scout’s compromise. “Well, if we are all in agreement, let us move for nourishment.”
The general had arranged for lunch to be taken in his quarters. The commanding officer’s quarters were constructed with a foyer that separated the general’s bedroom and study on one side from a small dining room and kitchen on the other.
The smell of pork roast, potatoes, and hot coffee drifted through the room, causing Parks’ stomach to growl like a hungry beast. He placed a hand over his stomach and smiled to the group. “Sorry, as you can hear, my stomach is causing a fuss over the smell of cooked food.”
The others grinned in understanding.
“Don’t fret, Parks.” The general responded. “We’ve all returned from the field with similar results from the smell of a home cooked meal.” He pointed to the served table. “Please, everyone, be seated.”
The men sat at the meal for the better part of an hour filling themselves with both food and conversation.
Lieutenant Colonel Custer was the first to push back from the table. He leaned back in his chair, removing a
bag of tobacco from his shirt pocket. “So tell us, Mr. Scott, what kind of test do you think fairly judges your animals?”
Parks thought on the question while he took one more drink of coffee. “It really does not matter, Lieutenant Colonel Custer. My horses are of mettle to perform at one thousand yards or one thousand miles. I think the bigger question might be what test do you want your army horses to excel at?”
Wild Bill looked at both men and put his napkin to the table. “Tell us of your test, Parks. Howis it run?”
“Well sir, we usually take one mustang off the string, and he will compete against any or all of your army horses.”
Parks could see the bewilderment in the military men’s eyes.
“Are you telling us you will run only one of your horses against however many animals we want to test?”
“Yes, General. I’ve found that appears the best way to get the army’s attention. In previous tests, I don’t think I’ve been a disappointment yet.”
The general slapped his knee in glee. “By God. I am anxious to watch this exhibition. Lieutenant Colonel, have your men pick out the three best horses we have on post.” He looked at Parks and opened the lid to a small rectangular box that sat in the middle of the table. “Cigar?”
Parks waved his hand in front of his chest. “No thank you, sir. I’ve never been able to master that skill.”
“Well here’s what I choose Parks. We will run a test at one thousand yards, one test at two thousand yards and the final test at three thousand yards. What do you say to that?”
“I think that should be a good test, sir.”
Lieutenant Colonel Custer stood from the table. “If you gentlemen will excuse me, I will arrange the test field and get the army animals ready.” Hemade amilitary about face and exited the dining area.
Wild Bill removed a cigar from the general’s box. “General, the Lieutenant Colonel seems to be wound very tight.”
“It’s his style. Make no mistake; he is a very serious officer with much ambition. I would bet a box of those cigars he rides the last test.”
Parks looked at his fellow diners. “Well, that is probably how it should be.”
General Hancock nodded in agreement. “Shall we?” He motioned both men toward the door.
Chapter 7
Fort Riley, Kansas 1867
The post was buzzing with activity. Most days for the soldiers on the frontier involved plenty of manual labor and a wagonload of boredom. With word trickling through the fort that a horse race was set for the afternoon, everyone had eagerly joined in the preparations.
Three men stepped out of the officers’ quarters into a bright spring day. General Hancock stopped at the foot of the stairs and took a match to his cigar. “So tell me Parks, how do the savages train their horses to be as strong as you indicate?”
“Actually, General, the horses come born with a hundred years of a strong survival instinct. Their ancestors ran wild across the Texas plains. Nature took the weakest of them, and those that survived were the ultimate war mount. My horses can live off a pasture of rocks and still run a hundred miles a day with little effort.”
Wild Bill drew deep on his cigar, exhaling a long fume of smoke towards the April sky. “General, I hope you would not object to a wager put to our horseman.”
“As long as your intentions are for relief from the boredom associated with this post, I could not see any harm.”
“Would you be willing to help break the boredom of my day, Parks?”
Parks noticed a gleam in the scout’s eye. “Beg ging your pardon, Mr. Hickok, but I would find myself contemptible for purposely taking a man’s hard-earned money.”
Wild Bill took pause and laughed with great force. “Please, sir, do not worry on my account; it is rare that any of my money would be hard earned.”
Parks walked over to his string and untied a brown-flecked animal he called Little Star. The horse’s eyes were clear and showed a sparkle as Parks held his reins. Parks knew this excitement meant he was ready to run. He slipped a six-braided hackamore over Little Star’s nose and brought the reins back to his neck. Like the Indians, he hand-braided his hackamores with a combination of buffalo hide and horsehair. Little Star was particularly impatient with the bit, and Parks respected his temperament never allowing iron in the mustang’s mouth. He patted the animal’s forehead and rubbed a wet rag down his forelegs and side. “Little Star,” he whispered almost inaudibly in the horse’s ear. “Let’s go for a run.”
Lieutenant Colonel Custer had three fine-looking army horses awaiting him at the starting line. The horses were all a rich brown color and showed the obvious signs of excellent grooming. All three stood at least seventeen hands high or a little over five and one half feet at the withers. Likemost army mounts, the animals were tall with long necks.
The difference in the competing animals was even more pronounced as they stood side by side. Little Star was short and compact with a thick neck. The army horse towered over the Indian pony, and, judging by appearance, it seemed the more qualified animal.
Lieutenant Colonel Custer walked to the front of both steeds and pressed his hands against each animal’s nose. “Mr. Scott, the first test will run for one thousand yards.” The lieutenant colonel pointed down the quickly prepared track to a man holding the 7th Cavalry’s colors. The race lane was flat, and littered with small rocks. It sloped so the return was slightly uphill. “At the colors, you will need to turn and come back to this line. It is approximately five hundred yards to that point. When the sergeant fires his pistol, you may proceed.”
Parks listened to the instructions while taking a quick inventory of the starter and the lane of soldiers who lined either side of the track. He turned back to the starting line and looked over at his competition. In the spirit of fair play, he nodded to the soldier sitting on the cavalry mount next to him. “Good luck to you.” With a pull of the rein, he moved Little Star several feet away from the army horse. “I am ready whenever it is convenient, Lieutenant Colonel Custer.”
He watched in anticipation as the lieutenant colonel spoke to his sergeant. “At your pleasure, sergeant.”
The gun seemed to discharge without a moment’s hesitation. The army horse rose slightly and raced from the line. Little Star had no wasted motion, neither rearing nor raising his head. He moved in complete timing with the gunfire. The mustang threw his head into the wind and never lifted it as he hit the halfway mark with a thirty-yard lead over the cavalry steed. In a matter of seconds, he had completed his turn and was back at the line exerting little effort.
“Bejesus!” Wild Bill swung his hat in a wide arc around his head. “If that don’t take the rag off the bush!”
The entire lane of soldiers was strangely silent, as the army horse finished up some forty yards behind Little Star.
“It would seem that you have made good on your pronouncement of this horse’s fitness.” Parks listened to the general’s comments and looked over to Custer. He could see that the lieutenant colonel was boiling inside. Although his face remained calm, he could not hide the red flush spreading across his forehead. Parks nodded to the general acknowledging his thanks.
“We’ll see after he tests the next two mounts,” Lieutenant Colonel Custer offered.
Little Star, flush with energy, had every hair on his mane standing at attention. The second army horse, another magnificent-looking animal was led to the line. Little Star took a glance at the animal and moved his head back and forth as if to personally challenge the steed. “Slack,” Parks spoke in a quiet tone to the horse. As the sergeant’s Colt revolver roared once more, Little Star exploded down the track. The army mount stayed close, but the extended track proved hard on the animal. At the turn, Little Star dipped his shoulder, dug his heels in tight, and dropped his back end. The result was a very tight circle around the 7th’s colors, and a plume of dust sprayed toward the private holding the standard.
Parks could feel the mustang’s power beneath him. A
ripple of flexing muscles moved with the mustang’s every step. He saw the horse turn his head back slightly, as if he wanted the other horse to run with him. Given the hesitation by Little Star, the army steed roared back head-to-head with Parks. Parks could see the cavalry soldier grin in anticipation of his victory. “Com’on Little Star,” Parks whispered. “This is not a good time to play.” He watched as the pony glanced at the army horse, nodding his head up and down at the animal. As if on cue, Little Star gave a whinny, looked up the track, and with a burst of speed shot ahead, finishing twenty-five yards in front of the army steed.
Parks turned Little Star back around toward the starting line. He kept his desire to grin in check as he did not want to insult the army riders. But inside, he could feel the warmth of victory spreading through his body. He imagined that Lieutenant Colonel Custer was as hot as a pepper right about now.
Parks looked on as the lieutenant colonel mounted his horse, a muscular dark brown animal called Dandy. The horse walked proudly to the starting line. Parks could immediately sense that this horse was a proud beast with a high spirit of competition.
“Mr. Scott, I trust now you will receive an adequate test for your pony.”
Parks could see the visible anger on his opponent. “A fine animal you sit on, sir,” he offered as respect to the lieutenant colonel.
Before Parks could set, he noticed Lieutenant Colonel Custer motion his right arm toward the sergeant and heard the gun discharge. The lieutenant colonel had begun forward with Dandy a split second before the gun, leaving Parks commenting to the now-empty space where Dandy had stood seconds before.
Little Star did not need encouragement or per mission from Parks to begin. He followed the taller horse off the line, his hooves thundering down the track. Parks regained his composure and lay low over Little Star’s neck, urging his steed on. Custer reached the standard seconds before Parks and completed a tight turn. Little Star reached the colors and, upon finishing his turn, exploded with a burst of speed that propelled him down the track. Custer’s lead now narrowed. Parks could see the lieutenant colonel flash his whip, beating his horse toward the finish. From Little Star’s nose, he watched great puffs of steam blow, superheated from his exertion. With a slight nudge of his spurs, Parks whispered into the mustang’s left ear. “It’s time to go, Little Star.” Instantly, he felt all tension from beneath the saddle fade and watched the pony extend his front legs into graceful but powerful strides. Running as a mustang in the wild, Little Star blared past Dandy, finishing a full length ahead. As Custer crossed the line behind Parks, Dandy pulled up hard with a noticeable limp.