Slater's Way

by Charles G. West

  “I’ll go with you to the quartermaster,” Russell said, “and see if I can hurry him along to get your money. It might take a day or two, but we’ll see.” The expression never changed on the stony face, but a slight shifting of his eyes told Russell that Slater was disappointed. “Sorry,” Russell said, “but that’s the way things are done in the army as far as paperwork is concerned. But if I can help, I will. In the meantime, why don’t you take a little time to rest before you and Red Basket start out again? She might need it, even if you don’t.”

  Slater almost smiled at the thought, picturing the somber woman astride Teddy’s big dun gelding, her gun belt strapped around her waist, but her two long braids no longer floating on the wind. “I expect Red Basket might ride these soldiers into the ground. She don’t need no rest. She’s anxious to go.”

  “You’re probably right,” Russell conceded, having ridden with the determined woman. Then he got straight to the point. “I’d like to talk to you about signing on as a scout for the regiment. I’ve already mentioned it to Colonel Brackett. I told him there was nobody who knew this territory any better than you, especially the Absaroka and the Beartooth ranges. He’d like to talk to you about it. Whaddaya say?”

  The proposal caught Slater by surprise. The possibility had never seriously entered his mind. There was always the thought in his head that if the authorities, civilian or military, ever found out his full name was John Slater Engels Jr. he might be arrested for the murder of Arlen Tucker in Virginia City. “I don’t know anything about scoutin’ for the army,” he said. “I ain’t ever done anything like that.”

  “The hell you haven’t!” Russell fairly exclaimed. “You scouted for me and did a helluva job. What you did for my patrol was all you’d be required to do for any detachment you were sent out with. The army would be paying you for your knowledge of the territory, and from what I’ve seen, you’ve got plenty of that.” Watching the young man’s reaction, Russell could see that he was turning it over in his mind. “Come on, we’ll go see about selling your horses while you think about it.”

  * * *

  The sale of the horses took less time than either Slater or Russell had expected, primarily because of Slater’s lack of his old friend Teddy Lightfoot’s tenacity at trading. In spite of Russell’s efforts to praise the quality of the six Indian ponies, the quartermaster’s men would not offer more than half the price of a typical cavalry horse. Slater appreciated the lieutenant’s attempt to gain a bigger price for him, but as far as he was concerned, almost any amount would give him more than he now had.

  When the deal was done, he was told that he would not receive the money until all the paperwork procedure was completed. Then the money would be taken to the commanding officer’s desk to be approved. The cash would be released to Slater the next day at the earliest. He did not understand the delay, but Russell assured him that he would have money in hand tomorrow. He also reminded Slater that the colonel wanted to talk to him, so they left the stable and returned to the headquarters building.

  “Come on in, Lieutenant,” Colonel Brackett called out when he saw Russell and Slater enter the outer office. “Did you get your horses sold?” Brackett asked Slater. When Slater allowed that he thought he had, although he hadn’t seen any money so far, the colonel assured him that he would shortly, and then he proceeded to get on with the purpose for the conversation.

  “We lost three good men in that encounter with the Sioux, and we don’t take that lightly. But Lieutenant Russell reported that our losses would probably have been much greater had it not been for the steps you took to ensure the outnumbered patrol the chance to escape an ambush. So, first of all, I’d like to commend you for your actions. You have our thanks, especially since you put your life in danger when you routed the savages out of their hiding places all by yourself.” He paused to witness Slater’s obvious discomfort to his praise. “At any rate,” he continued, “we’d like to have a man like that to serve as a scout.” He paused again to hear Slater’s response.

  Realizing he had just been offered a permanent job, Slater had to take a moment to think about it. He was sorely tempted to accept, since he had never had a paying job before, but he knew he could not. His responsibility for Red Basket prohibited him from accepting. When he had made no reply after a few seconds, Brackett sought to persuade him.

  “You’d be paid the same as a U.S. cavalry soldier,” he said. “Plus, the army would supply your ammunition and food. Think you might be interested?”

  “I would be,” Slater replied, “but I promised Red Basket I’d take her to find her people. So I reckon I’ll have to say no, but I surely do thank you for the offer.”

  Brackett nodded in silent understanding. Then he said, “Well, I certainly appreciate your position. You made a promise to the woman, and I respect your decision to make good on it.” He paused to think for a moment before continuing. “Where is this Crow village?”

  “She says it’s Chief Lame Elk’s village,” Slater said. “I don’t know exactly where it is right now, just somewhere on the Musselshell.”

  “Well, my offer still stands,” Brackett said. “After you find Lame Elk and get the woman settled, come on back and take the job.” He was thinking about the reason Fort Ellis was built, to protect the farmers and the miners who were moving into the Yellowstone Valley. He sorely needed a scout who knew not only the valley, but the daunting Absarokas and Beartooths as well. He had a complement of scouts, but none who knew these mountains as well as the young man standing in his office today. “Whaddaya say? You wanna scout for the army?”

  Slater nodded solemnly, thinking hard. “I reckon I would,” he finally decided, since it appeared that he would never be asked his full name.

  “Good,” Brackett said. “Have a safe journey and we’ll see you back here sometime soon, I hope.”

  “Yes, sir,” Slater said, “but I ain’t got my money yet.”

  “Come by here tomorrow morning,” Brackett said. “I’ll see that your money is here, all right?”

  “Yes, sir,” Slater said, and turned to leave. Lieutenant Russell walked out with him.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Russell said when they were outside. “You’ve still got several days’ pay coming that I promised you. You won’t get that until the regular troops’ payday at the end of the month, when everybody gets paid. So don’t worry—you’ll get your money.”

  “Much obliged,” Slater said as he stepped up into the saddle. He turned the paint’s head toward the creek and loped off to find Red Basket, feeling like a very wealthy young man. When he got his money for the horses, he would give Red Basket half of it, and she would then have enough money to set herself up with her brother’s family and enough left over to last her for a good while. If he saw her safely to her brother’s family, then Teddy’s spirit should be satisfied.

  A short ride along the bank of the creek led him to a line of cottonwoods, broken by a small grassy clearing. He found Red Basket and the horses in the clearing. A fire was already maturing, with her old coffeepot sitting in the coals.

  “Coffee ready,” she said in greeting when he rode into the clearing. “You like Teddy, all time want coffee.”

  “I reckon that’s so,” Slater said, and stepped down.

  She immediately took out her knife and sliced some salt pork from the side meat they had bought at Greeley’s trading post. “We need fresh meat,” she said, and laid the strips in her frying pan. “Maybe you need to go hunting soon.”

  “Maybe,” he replied as he pulled his saddle off the paint. “We might find something to hunt after we get a ways from this fort tomorrow.” After he turned his horse loose to graze with the other three, he told her about the offer he had from the colonel.

  She listened with interest and with mixed emotions. She had already become too dependent on him, and had hoped he would find his place in Lame Elk’s village, ju
st as he had done in White Pony’s. Maybe, she had thought, he might find a young girl there, as Teddy had done, and be content to live with the Apsáalooke. Her brother, Broken Ax, had a daughter who should have been about the right age for Slater, if she had not already been spoken for. She stopped herself from further speculation then, telling herself that the fearsome warrior who had come to live with the Crows when still a boy would not be content to live on the reservation. He was older than his years—a result of having killed a man when he was still a boy, and being a fugitive from such an early age. And although he’d been forced to become a man before his time, he still felt the call of the mountains and the wilderness beyond, just as Teddy had when he was a young man. Finally deciding what was best for him, she said, “I think it is a good thing for you to scout for the soldiers.”

  He put a lot of trust in Red Basket’s advice, so he decided. “Maybe that’s what I’ll do. If I’ve gotta give ’em a first and last name, I’ll just make one up,” he said, still concerned about the shooting in Virginia City. “But the first thing I’m gonna do is find that Crow village and make sure you’re gonna be all right before I leave you.”

  * * *

  Early the next morning, Slater and Red Basket broke camp, packed up their belongings, and rode back to the headquarters building, just as the bugler sounded reveille. They found no one in the commanding officer’s post but a sleepy-eyed corporal, who told them that they were far too early to see the colonel.

  “Hell, feller,” the corporal told Slater, “Colonel Brackett ain’t likely to be here till after breakfast.”

  “When’s that?” Slater asked.

  “Well, mess call won’t be for another hour yet,” the corporal said, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Then it depends on how long the colonel takes to eat his breakfast. You can wait and talk to Lieutenant Morse when he gets back if you want to. He’s the officer of the day. He went down to the Officers’ Mess to get a cup of coffee.”

  “Colonel Brackett is supposed to have some money for me,” Slater said naïvely. “I sold the army some horses. He didn’t by any chance leave it here for me, did he?”

  “No, there ain’t no money here,” the corporal replied, “and I wouldn’t be authorized to give it to you if there was.”

  Slater looked at Red Basket, perplexed. Looking back at the corporal, he said, “I reckon I ain’t got no choice. I’ll wait for the colonel.” He was eager to get started toward the Musselshell, but he didn’t want to leave without the money for Red Basket. This was his first experience with the army in garrison, and he wondered how they ever got anything done, if they couldn’t move until a bugle told them to.

  Thinking it a better idea to take the horses back up the creek a little way, rather than have them stand in front of the headquarters building, Slater went with Red Basket to find a suitable spot. Then he came back to wait for the colonel.

  By the time he finally got his payment for the horses, it was early afternoon, and he was thinking seriously about changing his mind about scouting for the army. However, the delay actually saved them some time in the long run, because a detachment of cavalry returned to the fort that morning that had been ten days in the Musselshell country. The officer in command of the patrol reported that Lame Elk’s village was on the river just northeast of the northern slopes of the Crazy Mountains.

  When Lieutenant Russell heard about it, he immediately went in search of Slater to relay the information. Consequently, when he and Red Basket left Fort Ellis, it was with a much better idea where they might find her brother’s village.

  Chapter 8

  With less than half a day of daylight left, they departed Fort Ellis on a course to skirt the eastern side of the Crazy Mountains. Sunset found them still short of the southernmost slopes of the mountain range. With darkness approaching, they were fortunate to find a small stream that saved them from having to make a dry camp for the night.

  Early the following morning, they skirted the southern end of the mountains, heading in a more northerly direction, with the mountain range to the west of them. That evening, they made their camp on the bank of Sweet Grass Creek in the shadows of the lofty peaks of the Crazy Mountains. It was a range that Slater had never explored, and looking west toward the setting sun, he could almost feel the mountains calling to him. He recognized the feeling. He had experienced it many times before.

  Gazing at him as he looked toward that lofty wilderness, Red Basket recognized the faraway gleam in his eye. She had seen it many times before in the eyes of Teddy Lightfoot. She knew then that Slater would not be settling down in Lame Elk’s village. It would be much like teaching a hawk not to fly.

  The third night’s camp was beside the Musselshell River. “We’ll follow the river east in the mornin’,” Slater said. “If what Lieutenant Russell said is true, we’ll run up on your village sometime tomorrow.”

  “I will be glad to see my brother and his wife again,” Red Basket said. “I am sorry that I bring him sad news about our father.”

  Her comment caused him to think about his father, and it occurred to him that he had very seldom thought about the man he was named after. Whenever thoughts of his mother strayed into his conscious mind, they were quickly blurred by an image of Henry Weed. And he immediately endeavored to erase the picture from his mind. Still, it was difficult to keep from wondering if she was getting along all right with the small-time outlaw. His thoughts were quickly returned to the present when Red Basket held a cup out to him.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I expect we’ll find that village before noon tomorrow, if it’s still where that soldier said it was.” She smiled and nodded.

  * * *

  As Slater had predicted, they sighted the village in the middle of the morning. There looked to be about sixty-five tipis in a half circle facing the river. Beyond the tipis, a large pony herd grazed near the riverbank. Several small children played at the edge of the water, not far from some young women who were filling water sacks. The image struck Slater right away. It was in sharp contrast to the village of Red Basket’s father, Crooked Foot, where there had been no children and no young women. He glanced at Red Basket. The usually stoic woman was sitting up straight in the saddle, straining to see the village, eagerly awaiting a reunion with her people.

  They were suddenly spotted by one of the children playing near the water, and he called to his mother, who looked up to see what had caught his attention. Seeing the two riders and their packhorses approaching, she stood and watched, shading her eyes against the sun with her hand.

  When the visitors were close enough to see that they were a man and a woman, the young mother alerted the other women filling water containers at the river. Curious, they walked up to stand beside her and waited to greet the strangers.

  “Welcome,” the young woman said when they rode up to them.

  “Is this the village of Chief Lame Elk?” Red Basket asked, speaking in the Crow tongue.

  “Yes,” the woman answered. “This is Lame Elk’s village.” By then, the visitors had been noticed by others in the village, and several more came to join the women.

  “I am Red Basket, sister of Broken Ax, daughter of Crooked Foot. I have come to find my people again. This is Shoots One Time, a good friend to the Crow.”

  “I remember you, Red Basket,” the young woman said. “I was a young girl when you left our village with a white man. Welcome back to our village.” She turned to one of the small boys and said, “Run and find Broken Ax. Tell him his sister has come home.” She turned back to Red Basket then. “You must be tired after your journey. Come and we will fix you something to eat.”

  A crowd of people had gathered by then, and all made the visitors feel welcome. Slater dismounted and stood by his horse while Red Basket explained the circumstances that brought her back to the village of her youth. He nodded politely, exchanging greetings with those who offered them, otherwis
e having little to say.

  Although they welcomed him warmly, he wasn’t really comfortable, for no reason he could explain. He just had a feeling that he would not be long in this village. Already he was thinking about leaving, but he told himself that Red Basket might be disappointed if he did not stay until she was settled. His immediate concern was where he could unload the packhorses. He looked toward the village then when he heard a welcoming shout for joy from a tall, well-built Crow man as he trotted along after the boy who had been sent to find him. Slater remained by his horse, silently watching the affectionate reunion between brother and sister. He was satisfied that Red Basket would be fine here.

  Red Basket introduced him to her brother and told Broken Ax of the attack on their village by a Lakota war party that resulted in the death of their father and her husband, Teddy Lightfoot. She then told Broken Ax of the vengeance taken by Slater upon the war party, killing almost all of them single-handedly, which brought nods of respect from everyone.

  Broken Ax turned to face Slater, placed his hand on Slater’s shoulder, and said, “Thank you, my friend. This is grievous news you and Red Basket bring. It gives me more peace in my heart to know that they who killed my father have paid with their own lives. Thank you for bringing my sister home to us.” Looking back at Red Basket, he said, “Summer Rain will be glad to see you again. Come, we must not make you stand out here, after you have ridden all this way. You must take your things to our tipi.”

  They started toward the circle of lodges, but Slater hesitated. “I reckon I’ll just make my camp down by the river,” he said, switching over to English.

  “There is room for you in my tipi,” Broken Ax assured him, answering in English as well, even though he knew it would be crowded.