Lone Jack Kid: The Return: A Western Adventure (Western Fiction, by Joe Corso Book 2) (The Lone Jack Kid)

by Joe Corso

  “Charlie, I want you to come in and stand by the entrance. No one is to come in here while I’m operating. When I finish I’ll need you to cauterize a needle and then thread it for me. I’ll have to sew her up, and I don’t want to infect her with a dirty needle.”

  Charlie did as he was told, entering the teepee and guarding the entrance.

  Percy was scared to death but he didn’t want to show fear in front of an Indian, who didn’t respect a man whose face showed fear. He closed his eyes for a moment and placed himself back in the classroom, listening again to the visiting doctor’s description of the procedure. He relived the class with a clarity that surprised even him.

  “All right, I’m ready.”

  Charlie watched as Percy put his stethoscope on the woman’s belly, checking that there was still a heart beat. Then he took the knife, wrapped a clean cloth around the upper part of the blade and began his cut. A few minutes later he held a howling healthy baby boy in his hands and motioned for one of the astonished, wide-eyed squaws to hold the baby while he cut and tied the umbilical cord. The old squaws thought they had just witnessed a miracle. No baby had ever been born in this manner.

  When Percy was finished sewing the stitches in Running Deer’s stomach, he took her temperature and was relieved to see that it was normal. Now all she needed was to feed her baby and get all the rest she could.

  Percy took the baby and walked outside to introduce Black Elk to his new son. “You are the father of a fine baby boy, Black Elk.”

  When Black Elk learned that he had a baby boy and that his wife would be fine he raised the baby high above his head so everyone could see it and let out a series of loud war whoops that startled the baby, causing him to cry.

  Percy tapped the chief on his shoulder and held out his hands, asking for the baby back. Black Elk looked at him questioningly. “His mother needs to feed the little guy.” Percy pointed to the baby and made a shoveling motion with his hands as if he were eating. Charlie waved his hand. “ You don ’ t have to motion with your hands to make him understand. “He understands English.” Black Elk understood what Charlie said and he handed his son to Percy. A few minutes later the baby was nursing contentedly and Running Deer was thrilled to be feeding her healthy baby boy.

  When Percy stepped from the teepee, Black Elk wanted the details of what he did to his wife. Percy explained slowly how he had operated on Running Deer, so the chief could grasp the meaning. Black Elk listened and when Percy was finished with his story the chief turned to Charlie, who was every bit as fascinated with Percy’s story as Black Elk.

  “You no lie when you tell Black Elk that this white man has powerful medicine. Come, we smoke now, and later Black Elk make you braves in Shawnee tribe.”

  Later that day Charlie, Percy, Black Elk and senior members of his tribe sat around the fire smoking the peace pipe.

  “It was said among the tribes,” began Black Elk, “that a white man killed seven Arapaho braves by himself.”

  Charlie gulped, figuring the jig was up. How could he explain his way out of this one?

  “They say a great white warrior killed them.”

  “Who told you this, Black Elk?”

  Black Elk pointed to one of his braves. “Runs With Buffalo talked to Arapaho brave. Say Arapaho braves drink fire water, kill men and burn wagon, take women but white warrior kill all seven braves before they harm women.” Then the chief pointed to Charlie’s empty holsters. “He wear two guns like you.” Black Elk’s eyes narrowed. “Are you that white man?”

  Charlie knew that Black Elk would see through a lie so he told him the truth. “Yes, it was me who killed those braves. But those braves weren’t men, they were coyote who deserved to die.” But Charlie was curious. “Black Elk, I was sure I killed all seven Indians, so how did the Arapaho find out that a white man with two guns killed them?”

  “You no kill all seven. One brave live long enough to tell Arapaho about you, then he die.”

  “Well I’ll be danged,” Charlie muttered.

  Black Elk leaned closer to Charlie who sat on his right, while Percy sat on the chief’s left. He asked him, “Are you fast gunfighter like Hickok?”

  “I don’t know, Chief,” Charlie answered honestly. “I’m pretty fast, but I’d hate to face Wild Bill in a gunfight.”

  Black Elk noticed the bandage on Charlie’s left hand and lifted it for a closer look. “What happened to hand, Charlie?”

  Charlie told Black Elk the story of the three men who bushwhacked him. The chief nodded sagely. “You go after these men?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, when you find them, you kill them?”

  “Yes.”

  That satisfied the chief. “Good, you kill them, you keep honor. Now we go outside and you show Black Elk how you shoot.”

  Charlie figured that Black Elk wanted to see if he was the man that killed those Arapaho braves, and not someone taking credit for another man’s deed.

  “Give me your other gun, Percy. I’ll need two guns to pull this off.”

  Percy handed Charlie his other Colt and Charlie slipped it into his holster smoothly. He spotted a basket full of corn and motioned for a brave to pull a few stalks out. “When I give you the signal, throw them in the air.”

  By now the whole village was gathered around, watching. Black Elk was standing about ten feet to the side, with Percy alongside him. As neither man had ever seen Charlie in action, they were anxious to see how he handled his guns. Charlie nodded to the brave holding the corn and he threw one, two and three stalks high in the air. Charlie spun and shot all three stalks as they arced down towards the ground; then he spun and shot a spear tip that a brave was holding, and then another leaning against a lodge pole.

  Black Elk was impressed. “That fine shooting. I believe story now.” Black Elk’s face darkened. “You leave Shawnee village now and go after men who tried to kill you?”

  “Yes. We’ll be leaving you when the white medicine man tells me that Running Deer and your son are no longer in danger.”

  That seemed to please Black Elk. “When you leave we go with you to army camp, make sure you get there safely.”

  Charlie shook his head. “No, Chief. It is too far. You stay here with your woman. Make sure her and your son are protected.”

  “We go with you. No more talk now.”

  Later that day Black Elk walked into Running Deer’s teepee to see his wife and son. Percy was in there, checking his two patients, and Charlie lingered outside, waiting to talk to Percy. Black Elk walked out of the darkness of the teepee and into the bright midday sun. He motioned for both Charlie and Percy to follow him to a large teepee.

  “We smoke pipe and Black Elk now make you braves in Shawnee tribe.”

  A ceremony took place with braves singing and smoking. Neither Charlie nor Percy could make out what they were singing about. Finally a squaw came in and handed Black Elk something he had been waiting for. He told Percy to stand and placed a necklace similar to the one Charlie was wearing around Percy’s neck, all the while chanting something. Then he asked Charlie for his left hand, which was still bandaged, and placed a silver bracelet with a gold Elk molded on the top. The sides of the bracelet was designed in gold, with elegant turquoise stones with rich gold veins running through them.

  “Wear this always and other tribes will know that Black Elk is your friend.” The Shawnee Chief turned to Percy. “You wear that necklace in Indian territory and no harm will come to you.”

  Chapter 11

  It was a two day ride to Fort Smith and Black Elk and twenty of his braves escorted Charlie and Percy all the way there. When they were a mile from the fort Black Elk said goodbye to his new white Shawnee brothers.

  “If ever you need help from Shawnee, you come to Indian territory and if you no find us, we find you. Go in peace, my brothers.”

  The two men watched Black Elk and his braves disappear into the distance. Percy wiped his brow. “You know, Charlie. I thought we we
re going to have trouble with Black Elk when he asked if you were the one who killed those seven Arapahos.”

  “Yeah, I did too. It’s a good thing the Shawnee aren’t friends with the Arapahos.”

  “That was some shooting exhibition you put on for the Shawnee.”

  “I had a feeling Black Elk didn’t believe me so I agreed to put on that show for him. He was testing me, and once he believed it was really me he didn’t bring it up again. And if I know Indians, they like to brag about how brave their warriors are. What’s better for a man like Black Elk than to say to the other tribes that the famous Lone Jack Kid is a member of the Shawnee tribe?”

  Percy nodded sagely. “I guess even with the Indians it’s all about politics.”

  “You got that right, brother.” They pulled up to the fort and Charlie hollered. “Hello to the fort.”

  “Who goes there?” the soldier on duty asked.

  “Two weary men who’d like admittance.”

  “Open the gate,” the soldier yelled down to his counterpart, who opened the gates and took the reins as the two men entered. They dismounted and Charlie asked the corporal who was in charge.

  “That would be Colonel Parker, sir.”

  “Thanks, Corporal. Is there anyone here who can take care of our horses? They’re pretty tired and could use some feed. We’d be willing to pay.”

  “No need for that, sir. I’ll take you to see Colonel Parker and then I’ll see that your horses are taken care of.”

  “Have a seat, gentlemen. Care for a cigar?”

  Charlie smiled and showed a good set of pearly white teeth at the mention of a cigar. “A cigar would be most appreciated, Colonel.” Charlie took the cigar but Percy declined. “Your fort looks pretty short of men, Colonel. Are they out on patrol?”

  “No. Since the Butterfield Overland Stage has discontinued service this old fort isn’t really needed any longer. We used to have fifteen hundred men stationed here but we’ve been cut back to five hundred troopers. Now I’ve got orders to abandon the fort in two months and relocate to Fort Kearney up on the Little Horn Mountains. But what brings you two men to Fort Smith?”

  Charlie thought for a moment about where to start. He told how he was bushwhacked by three men and robbed of all his money and left for dead. “You haven’t seen three men pass through here, have you?”

  “No, I’m afraid not. But if you’re going to travel through Indian territory you better be on the watch for Black Elk. His braves had a run in with some white men and they could be the men you’re looking for, so be careful.”

  “Colonel Parker I’ve got news for you. You are looking at two members of the Shawnee nation. Black Elk took us in and made us members of his tribe a few days ago.”

  The Colonel couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I have to hear this story from the beginning because I’m going to tell it to my wife and kids when I get back home.”

  Charlie told Colonel Parker about Wild Eagle and how he became his blood brother. And how Percy saved Running Dear’s life by performing a radical operation, and how the Shawnee braves escorted them to Fort Smith.

  “Percy performed an operation that had never been done before and it worked. His wife presented Black Elk with a beautiful baby boy.”

  Percy beamed at Charlie’s compliment and felt he owed Charlie a compliment in return. “You should have seen the shooting exhibition Charlie put on for Black Elk.”

  “Oh? How did that come about?”

  “Black Elk asked Charlie if he was the man who killed seven Arapaho all by himself and Charlie admitted that it was he that done the deed. Then Black Elk wanted to see how Charlie handled his guns. Charlie felt the chief didn’t quite believe him and wanted to see for himself.”

  “Wait a minute. You mean to tell me that you killed seven Indians all by yourself?”

  Charlie was becoming more embarrassed by the minute. “It was just something that I had to do, Colonel. Two white women were about to be used by those Indians and I just couldn’t abide that happening to them. I had to do something, so I went and killed all seven of them.”

  “What did you say your name was again?”

  “Charlie, sir.”

  “Charlie what?”

  “Charlie Longstreet, Colonel. Why?”

  “’Cause I heard that name just this morning. Sergeant, get in here.”

  The door opened and a sergeant with a big walrus mustache and a beer belly entered the room.

  “You want to see me, Colonel?”

  “Yes. You showed me a book this morning. Where is it?”

  “In my desk, sir. May I ask the Colonel why?”

  “Go get it and bring it in here.”

  The sergeant saluted, left and returned a few minutes later holding the book. “Here it is, Colonel.”

  Colonel Parker read the cover and smiled. “The Adventures of the Lone Jack Kid. You’re him, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir. I’d be lyin’ if I told you I wasn’t.”

  The sergeant’s eyes widened and he raised an eyebrow. “You mean to tell me that you’re the Lone Jack Kid.”

  “Yes, sir, I surely am.”

  Colonel Parker asked him the question everyone who read the book asked him. “Did Buntline really join you in that gunfight in the saloon in Lone Jack?”

  “Yes he did. That man’s got more balls than brains, but he’s got courage and he’s the man you want with you if there’s gonna be a fight.”

  The Colonel enjoyed asking Charlie questions about the book. “The three taps, did that really happen?”

  “No, that was something Ned added to make the story more appealing. But those three taps almost got me killed a few times. I swore I’d brain him if I ever saw him again and, don’t you know, he shows up with the James and Younger brothers when I needed some help in Virginia City.”

  “This gets more interesting by the minute. So the part about the James and Youngers was all true then?”

  “It sure was, sir.”

  The sergeant asked to be excused. When he left the Colonel said, “He’s gone to tell the other men we have the famous Lone Jack Kid here in Fort Smith as our guest.”

  Chapter 12

  The following morning at daybreak the men mounted their horses and trotted toward the gate. The colonel waited there for them.

  “I just wanted to say goodbye to you fellows. You’ll be all right until you get to Horse Head Crossing. There are no stage stations between here and there. The Butterfield stage line ended on April 12, 1861 and there isn’t any civilization between here and Horse Head Crossing. My guess is that’s where your three thieving cowboys are headed. Remember, you have to travel one hundred ninety-seven miles through Indian territory and then you’ll find yourself in Texas. The old stage route just touches the upper part of Texas and from there, depending where you want to go, it’ll take you to either New Mexico or Utah.”

  “Thanks, Colonel. Say, can I ask you for a favor.”

  “Sure, Kid, if I can do it.”

  “My guns were stolen. I need a Winchester repeating rifle and two Colts if you can spare them.”

  “Get off those horses. Sergeant?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Hold these horses while I take these men to the armory.” When they walked away the colonel said, “I have no control over the s utler and what he sells but when it comes to weapons, we’ll find them in the armory and the armory is under my control.”

  The Colonel opened the door to the armory and was greeted by a corporal. “Sir, what can I do for you?”

  “Do we have any Colts, either 1850 or 1866, and a Winchester repeating rifle?”

  “Yes, sir, we have the Winchester and we have the Colt 1860 which was converted to metallic cartridges.”

  “Get me two of the Colts and the Winchester Repeater, and two boxes of ammo for each of the guns, including the Winchester. Make sure the weapons are all chambered for 44 caliber bullets.”

  “What do we owe you for the guns,
Colonel?”

  “Nothing. I’ll replace the weapons with ones from a collection of used ones we have. The armorer goes over each gun and reconditions them so that they’re like new. I’m giving you these Colts because they’re converted to use the new metallic cartridges. If you run into trouble, that alone could save your lives.”

  “Thanks, Colonel, we appreciate it.”

  “Good luck, men, and I hope you catch up to those skunks.”

  “Don’t worry, Colonel, sooner or later we’ll find them.”

  Charlie did the math. “One hundred ninety-seven miles to go and we probably will do about twenty or thirty miles a day, so we should get to Horse Head Crossing in good time.”

  Every fifteen miles or so they passed an abandoned stage coach stop and Charlie decided they would stop at every other one and rest there overnight, with a dry roof over their heads. The only problem was the horses. Charlie knew from experience that an Indian could steal a horse right in front of your nose and you wouldn’t realize it until it was too late. The stage stops usually had a large room for the stage’s passengers to eat in, two bedrooms and a kitchen. Charlie figured he’d bring the horses into the large room and hobble them there, while Percy and he would sleep in the two bedrooms.

  The door into the abandoned building had been locked but the door had been kicked in a number of years ago, so Charlie and Percy just pushed it open and checked it out to make sure it was safe to stay in for the night. Many times rattlesnakes found their way into a warm place and took up residence there. Then there were raccoons and coyotes and all sorts of desert critters. Charlie just wanted to make sure the horses would be safe there. It wouldn’t do to find yourself with a dead horse because you overlooked a rattler. Then there was the matter of the Arapaho Indians. They were known horse thieves. He found some empty bottles that once held liquor and placed them against the door. If an Indian tried to sneak in that way, he’d hear the bottles rolling around. Some windows still had glass in them, but they were in the back. It was the windows in the front that worried Charlie. The frames had no glass, having been broken long ago, so he crumpled some paper he found behind the old bar and placed it on the floor behind the windows, along with pebbles he picked up from outside. If anyone stepped on the paper he should hear them, being a light sleeper. Even an Indian would make a noise if he stepped on that.