Fort Revenge

by J. R. Roberts

  “Shut up and pour me some coffee,” Gabe said.

  Joe poured it and handed it to his older brother.

  “Maybe you two should think about gettin’ yerselves a woman.”

  “Not a squaw,” Brett said. “Not me.”

  “She ain’t just a squaw,” Gabe said. “She’s a Cherokee princess.”

  Joe and Brett exchanged a glance. They’d had this argument with their brother before. Since Cherokee chiefs were not “kings,” their daughters were not “princesses.” But Gabe insisted that she was.

  “Whatever,” Joe said.

  “Where’s Gene?” Gabe asked.

  “He went for a walk.”

  “And the others?”

  “No sign yet.”

  “They’ll be here soon.”

  “Unless somebody caught ’em. Somebody who’s lookin’ for us,” Brett said.

  “Ain’t nobody gonna find us out here,” Gabe said. “Ain’t nobody even gonna come lookin’.”

  “Not even Heck Thomas?” Brett asked.

  “Maybe Thomas,” Gabe said, “but if he comes, he’d come alone. We can handle him.”

  “We still goin’ to find them Cherokee relatives of your wife’s?” Joe asked.

  “Yeah,” Gabe said. “They’ll take us in for a while, since I’m married to Running Deer.”

  “All of us?” Brett asked. “Or just you?”

  “My family is their family,” Gabe said.

  “I don’t wanna be no part of no Cherokee family,” Brett said. “And I know Gene don’t.”

  “I’ll handle Gene,” Gabe said. “In fact, I’m gonna go and find him now. You guys keep cookin’ that wild boar. It needs to be almost burned.”

  “See?” Joe said. “I told you.”

  As Gabe walked away, Brett said, “I used to think Gabe was the craziest of us, but Gene . . .”

  “I know,” Joe said. “Even I don’t wanna be around him when he gets in one of his killin’ moods.”

  “And that’s what bein’ around a bunch of Cherokee is gonna do, put him in one of them moods.”

  Brett leaned over and cut a piece of meat off the roasting boar.

  Gabe found Gene a few hundred yards away from the camp. His younger brother was just standing there, staring.

  “What’s going on?” Gabe asked.

  “I was just wonderin’.”

  “Wonderin’ what?”

  “How long we’re gonna waste time out here in the Territories,” Gene said.

  “And what do you wanna do?”

  The younger brother turned his head and looked at his older. Physically—from behind, at least—there was no way to tell they were twelve years apart.

  “Go into some towns, hit some banks,” Gene said. “Make some money.”

  “And have the law on our tails.”

  “You didn’t used to worry about things like that, Gabe,” Gene said. “Only since you married that squaw.”

  “Be careful, Gene.”

  “I’m just sayin’,” Gene went on, “why the hell do we have to go and see her people?”

  “That’s the way the Cherokee do it,” Gabe said. “At least, the Wolf Clan.”

  “Wolf Clan,” Gene said, shaking his head. “Sounds like warriors but they’re a bunch of old women run by old women.”

  “The grandmothers are not just old women.”

  “Listen to yerself,” Gene said. “ ‘The grandmothers’ you say, just like you was one of them.”

  “I’ve been accepted into the Wolf Clan,” Gabe said. “That’s a great honor.”

  “For you, maybe,” Gene said. “Why do the rest of us have to go?”

  “Because I’m in charge, little brother,” Gabe said. “Remember that.”

  “Yeah, you’re in charge,” Gene said, walking away, “for now.”

  EIGHTEEN

  They came to a campsite and saw that the two men and the packhorse had joined many more men there.

  “Six, maybe eight riders altogether,” Heck said. “I was told the Colters might be riding with others.”

  “So maybe eight all told,” Clint said.

  “Ridin’ west.”

  Clint looked at the sky, saw that darkness wasn’t far away.

  “This is as good a place to camp,” Clint said.

  “Sure, why not?” Heck said. “Looks like we’ve picked up their trail pretty quick. We can start following it again in the morning. Shouldn’t be hard with eight of them, plus a packhorse, layin’ down the tracks.”

  Clint took charge of the horses, getting them unsaddled and rubbed down. By the time he was done Heck had a fire going, and a pot of coffee.

  “Beans?” Heck asked.

  “That’s good enough,” Clint said, accepting a cup of coffee.

  Heck took a well-used frying pan from his saddlebags, used his knife to open a can of beans. He got the beans going on the fire, then sat back and drank a cup of coffee.

  “I’ll take first watch,” Heck said. He reached over and took two plates from his saddlebags and a couple of spoons. “I’ll wake you in four hours.”

  “Suits me,” Clint said.

  Heck served out the beans and handed Clint a plate with the spoon resting in it. They began to eat.

  “Clint,” Heck said, “the judge wants me to bring the Colters back to hang.”

  “I figured that.”

  “But that don’t apply to whoever they got with them,” Heck said. “And to take eight men means we’re gonna have to kill some of them as quick as we can.”

  “I figured that, too.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “I’m here to help you, Heck,” Clint said. “Trying to take all eight men alive would be dangerous as hell. Likely get one of us killed, if not both, so yeah, I’m okay with it.”

  “Good, good.”

  They finished their beans. Heck cleaned the plates and utensils and tucked them back into his saddlebags. Then he poured out the rest of the coffee into their cups and made another pot.

  “I’ve been thinkin’,” Heck said.

  “About what?”

  “What you said about goin’ private,” Heck replied.

  “Might make more sense. Like you said, it worked for Roper. Granted, he’s a little more personable, but I can get around that.”

  “How?”

  “By bein’ good.”

  “I guess you could,” Clint said. “Virgil Earp wasn’t particularly personable, but he set himself as a private detective for a while.”

  “A while?”

  “Well, in the end it didn’t really work out for him,” Clint admitted.

  “Well, when this is over maybe I’ll give it a try.”

  “Where?”

  “Denver?”

  “You’d be competing with Roper there,” Clint said. “Might not be a good idea.”

  “Okay then, maybe Dallas.”

  “Why Texas?”

  “I like Texas,” Heck said. “I could probably get work from the Cattleman’s Association there.”

  “And what about the railroads?”

  “Them, too,” Heck said. “The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of bein’ my own boss. Especially after working for the judge.”

  “Well,” Clint said, “at least I’ve been able to avoid that little pleasure over the years.”

  They clinked mugs and drank to that.

  Before turning in, Heck broke out that bottle of whiskey and they sweetened their coffee a little. He then put the bottle away. They both knew better than to drink on the trail, especially while standing watch.

  Clint unrolled his bedroll, positioned his saddle to use as a pillow, then placed his gun belt down right next to him.

  He watched as his friend sat down at the fire and poured himself some more coffee. Heck stared straight ahead, maybe thinking about his future.

  “Don’t daydream,” he called out.

  “It’s night,” Heck said, “so shut up and go to sleep. I
f anythin’ comes up, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Clint closed his eyes and slept.

  NINETEEN

  Gabe went back into the shack and found Running Deer awake.

  “My husband,” she said.

  He leaned down to her and kissed her.

  “Are you rested?” he asked.

  “Very rested.”

  “Hungry?”

  “I must prepare a meal for you,” she said. “That is my duty as a wife.”

  “That’s all right,” he said. “My brothers have already cooked a wild boar. I’ll get you some.”

  He rushed out before she could object.

  “Gimme two plates,” he said, when he got to the fire. Gene had returned and rejoined his two brothers at the fire.

  “Ain’t the squaw supposed to make supper?” Joe asked.

  “Since you two have already done it,” Gabe said, “it don’t really matter, does it? Now just make me two plates.”

  Brett cut meat onto two plates, and added some beans and the rolls he’d also prepared.

  “What about something to drink?” Joe asked.

  “We’ve got something in the shack,” Gabe said. He turned and walked back to the shack.

  “This ain’t right,” Gene said.

  “What ain’t?” Joe asked.

  “She’s leadin’ him around by the nose,” Gene said, “and if she’s leadin’ him, she’s leadin’ us.”

  Joe and Brett didn’t reply.

  “The other men agree,” Gene said.

  “You’ve talked to them?”

  Gene nodded.

  “If I take over, they’ll follow me.”

  “Why you, kid?” Brett asked.

  “Yeah,” Joe said, “why not one of us?”

  Gene smiled—-a smile they had often seen—though not lately.

  “Neither of you has the guts,” Gene said. “The others know it. Even if you tried, they wouldn’t follow you.”

  “You know that for a fact?” Joe asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you suggestin’?” Brett asked.

  “That we take him,” Gene said. “Now.”

  “Now?” Joe asked.

  “Right now?” Brett echoed.

  “Well, no, not now,” Gene said. “I mean when the rest of the boys get back. We’ll need them.”

  “I don’t know,” Joe said. He looked at Brett. “Whaddaya think?”

  “I don’t know . . .”

  “See?” Gene said. “That’s the whole problem with the two of you. You’ll never know, unless you’re told.”

  Both men looked at their younger brother, not yet nineteen but already stronger than both of them.

  “We’ll have to think about it, kid,” Joe said.

  “Yeah,” Brett agreed, “we’ll have to think.”

  Gene shook his head and picked up a plate.

  “Cut me a hunk of that,” he said.

  Gabe entered the shack again. Running Deer was still seated on her blanket on the floor.

  “Here,” he said, handing her a plate. It had a fork on it, but she picked up the meat with her hands and bit into it.

  “Oh,” she said. “Your brothers have ruined the meat.”

  “They done the best they can,” he said, biting into it. It tasted fine to him.

  “My people know how to prepare meat properly,” she told him. “You will see.”

  “When will we get to your people?” he asked her.

  “Soon,” she said, “but first we must talk.”

  “About what?”

  “The other men.”

  “What about them?”

  “They are not your brothers,” she said. “They are not family. My people will not welcome them without suspicion.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. “We’ll leave them behind.”

  “They will stay?”

  “If I tell them to,” he said, forking some beans into his mouth. She watched him, then lifted her fork and did the same, rather than scoop the beans with her fingers.

  “What will you tell them?”

  “To watch our back trail,” Gabe said. “In fact, I won’t only tell them that, we’ll have them do it. Heck Thomas has got to be trackin’ us.”

  “One man?”

  “One deputy marshal,” Gabe said. “And a good one.”

  “They will kill him?”

  “If they have to.”

  “We do not want the white man’s law to know where the Wolf Clan is,” she said.

  “Don’t worry, they won’t.”

  “And your brothers?”

  “What about them?”

  “They will also do what you say?”

  “Sure.”

  “Even the young one?”

  “Gene?”

  “He is not like the others,” she said.

  “No, he’s not,” Gabe said, “but I can handle him. Don’t worry.”

  “When we reach my people, they must be respectful,” she warned.

  “Don’t worry,” Gabe said. He reached out and touched his wife’s shoulder. “I am in control here.”

  She smiled at him and nodded, but she was thinking that she hoped he was right. She did not want her people to have to kill her husband’s family. It was not the way to start a union.

  TWENTY

  Midday the next day, Heck and Clint reined in their horses. They both stared at the ground.

  “They split up here,” Heck said.

  “Four that way,” Clint said, pointing south, “and four that way,” to the west.

  They looked at each other for a moment.

  “Let’s figure this out,” Clint said.

  “Okay,” Heck said. “For one thing, we don’t want to split up.”

  “Would the brothers split up?” Clint asked.

  “No,” Heck said, “I say no.”

  “Okay, so four of these are the Colters, and four are the other men.”

  “Which four are the Colters?”

  Clint pointed to the tracks leading west.

  “I say those.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re still going west, which is where we figure the Wolf Clan are.”

  “And?”

  He pointed to the ground again.

  “They have the packhorse,” Clint said. “So they’re taking their supplies to their camp.”

  “Okay,” Heck said. “West it is.”

  They continued on . . .

  Gabe and Running Deer finished their meal, washed it down with water from a canteen.

  “I’ll take these plates back outside,” he said, getting to his feet. “The others will be here soon. They’ll need them.”

  “All right.”

  He picked up the canteen. “And I’ll get some more water.”

  She nodded.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “Everythin’ will be fine. We’ll be with your people soon. I promise.”

  “I know,” she said. “I trust you.”

  He nodded to her encouragingly, then turned and went back outside.

  “Do you think he’ll share?” Gene asked.

  Brett and Joe exchanged a glance. The three of them were seated around the fire, eating and passing around a bottle of whiskey.

  “Whaddaya mean?’ Joe asked.

  “Share what?” Brett asked.

  “Whaddaya mean, what?” Gene asked. “The girl. The squaw.”

  “His wife?” Joe asked. “You mean share his wife with us?”

  “Why not?” Gene asked. “We’re family. We’re his blood, not her.”

  “You’re crazy,” Brett said.

  “Am I?” he asked. “Maybe you’re right. And maybe that’s the only reason why I’m the one to take over from him.”

  “You can’t beat Gabe,” Joe said.

  “You don’t think so?”

  “You’re just a kid,” Brett said.

  “I’m more of a man than either of you will ever be,” Gene said.

  “Yo
u think so?” Brett asked.

  “Oh, not only do I think, brothers,” Gene said, with a smile, “you do, too.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  “Here,” Gabe said, handing the plates over to Joe. “Clean them up for the others. They should be here soon.”

  “How’s the wife, big brother?” Gene asked.

  “She’s fine.”

  “Anxious to see her people?”

  “Very anxious.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet. Wolf Clan, right? Warriors?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you think they’re gonna welcome us with open arms?”

  “I’m family now,” Gabe said, “and so is my family.”

  “Even white men?” Brett asked.

  Gabe looked at him, then at Joe, and the look on his face.

  “Now you’re havin’ doubts, too?” he asked.

  They followed the trail most of the afternoon, until it was almost dark. When they camped again, they switched jobs. Heck took care of the horses, Clint built the fire and prepared their meal: coffee and beans, again.

  “If we catch up to them tomorrow, we’re likely to face only four, not eight,” Heck said.

  “There’s a lot of ground to cover,” Clint said. “Catching up to them tomorrow may be a little ambitious. Their last campfire was very cold.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “We need some more information about the Cherokee,” Clint said. “Specifically, the Wolf Clan.”

  “You want to go back and talk to Iron Fist?” Heck asked.

  “No,” Clint said. “We need somebody who won’t lie to us. Besides, going back is not an option. That would put us even farther behind. We need somebody else.”

  “So we need to talk to another Indian, or somebody who knows the Indians.”

  “Right. Any ideas?”

  Heck thought a few minutes then said, “There’s a settlement north of here.”

  “A settlement? Like the one we just left?”

  “No,” Heck said. “It was set up by Indians.”

  “Cherokee?”

  “Delaware,” Heck said. “Actually, Lenape.”

  “Warriors?”

  “Farmers,” Heck said. “But they might have some information we need.”