Fort Revenge

by J. R. Roberts

  “You know somebody there?”

  “A few,” Heck said. “We can ride over there tomorrow and see what we can find out.”

  “What are the Delaware Indians doing in the Cherokee Nations?” Clint asked.

  “The Cheyenne and Apache are here, also,” Heck said. “Some of them are even paying the Cherokee to let them stray.”

  “They’re paying the Cherokee rent?”

  “If you want to call it that,” Heck said.

  “Well then, I guess they might know something helpful, after all.”

  They woke the next morning, Heck having taken the second watch this time. He handed Clint a cup of coffee and pointed north.

  “Should be about a half-day’s ride in that direction,” Heck said.

  “Good.”

  “But I want to toss somethin’ your way, see what you think,” Heck said. “How about we split up? One of us keeps following the tracks, the other goes north to talk to the Lenape.”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know the area, I don’t,” Clint said. “and you know somebody at the Delaware settlement, I don’t. Unless we can split you in two, I say we stay together.”

  “Okay,” Heck said. “It was just a thought.”

  They broke camp and rode north.

  “What’s the name of this settlememt?” Clint asked.

  “Like most of the settlements in the Territories, it doesn’t have a name. Or if it does, I don’t know it.”

  “But you know some of the Indians who live there,” Clint said.

  “Yeah,” Heck said. “They come to Fort Smith sometimes.”

  “When’s the last time some of them were there?” Clint asked.

  Heck looked at him and said, “The last time the judge hanged one of them.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  The settlement was made up half of teepees and half of badly erected wooden buildings—mostly shacks.

  As they rode down the street, they were met with curious and suspicious glares.

  “I feel real welcome,” Clint said.

  “Hey, you’re a white man,” Heck said. “But don’t worry, you’re with me. If they have no respect for the white man, they at least respect the badge.”

  “They do?”

  “Well, yeah. Why not?”

  “Well, like you said, “Clint answered, “the judge hanged some of them.”

  “They had it coming,” Heck said. “Besides, the ones who got hanged had it coming—and they got it for killing some of their own.”

  “Anybody in authority in this place?” Clint asked.

  “Well, of course,” Heck said. “They have a chief.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Clarence.”

  “Chief Clarence?” Clint asked.

  Heck shrugged.

  The other four men didn’t get back until late, almost dark. They ate what was left of the boar, and then everyone turned in. Gabe Colter didn’t talk to them until the next morning.

  However, Gene Colter talked with them that night, before they all turned in.

  “You’re still talkin’ about this?” Andy James asked, biting into a hunk of the boar meat. Grease covered his face, made its way into his beard.

  “I hope you fellas been talkin’ about it while you was out there,” Gene said.

  “Oh, we wuz,” Andy said. “We wuz sayin’ how crazy you are to even think takin’ over from your brother.”

  Gene frowned, staring at the four men.

  “I thought you fellas were with me,” he said.

  “Kid,” Ty Walker said, “there ain’t no way you can take your big brother.”

  “There is if my other brothers are with me.”

  Andy stopped chewin’.

  “You got Brett and Joe on your side?”

  “I do,” Gene said, but he hesitated just enough.

  “Nah,” Andy said, “you don’t.” He went back to his boar.

  “I will, though,” Gene said. “It’s just a matter of time.”

  “When you got your brothers behind you,” Andy said, “you come and talk to us.”

  Gene studied the four men, but they were engrossed in their meal.

  “I’ll be back,” he said and walked away.

  In the morning, Gabe came out of the shack and walked to the fire.

  “Coffee,” he said.

  “It’s ready,” Joe said, handing him a cup.

  “I’m gonna talk to the men,” he said.

  Gene watched his older brother walk to the other fire to talk to the hired guns.

  “What do we need them for?” he asked his brother.

  “Who?” Brett asked.

  “Them,” Gene said. “Those four.”

  “Because Gabe says we need them,” Joe said. “When you’re boss, you can say who we need and who we don’t.”

  “I thought you said them boys wuz with you,” Brett said.

  “They are.”

  “Well, what’s the problem, then?”

  “I want you boys with me, too,” Gene said.

  “Well,” Joe said, dropping some bacon into the hotel pan, “we’re still thinkin’ .”

  “You want us to do what?” Andy James asked Gabe.

  “Stay behind.”

  “How far behind?” Ty Walker asked.

  “All the way behind,” Gabe said. “Right here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re gonna be ridin’ into the Wolf Clan camp,” Gabe said. “I’m gonna be welcome because my wife is Cherokee Wolf Clan. My brothers’ll be welcome because they’re my family. But you guys are just white men.”

  “He’s got a point,” one of the other men said. “I don’t wanna go riding into no Cherokee camp if I ain’t welcome.”

  “Besides,” Gabe said, “I got another job for you.”

  “What’s that?” Andy asked.

  “It has to do with Deputy Marshal Heck Thomas.”

  Andy stared at Gabe.

  “I hope it’s got somethin’ to do with killin’ him.”

  Gabe smiled.

  “It’s got everything to do with killin’ him.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Heck led Clint to one of the falling-down shacks. Clint started to dismount, but Heck put out a hand to stop him.

  “Gotta let him know we’re here, first.”

  Clint sat back down in his saddle.

  “Clarence!” Heck yelled. “Chief Clarence!”

  No answer.

  “Is he hard of hearing?” Clint asked.

  “Maybe drunk.”

  “Like Iron Fist?”

  “Not as bad as Iron Fist,” Heck said. “We won’t have to ply him with liquor to get him to talk—if he knows anything.”

  “Well, call him again, then.”

  “Come on, Clarence!” Heck called out. “It’s Heck Thomas.”

  Slowly, the front door opened and a man appeared. He was old and dressed in white man’s clothes, except for a single feather on his head, held there by a beaded headband.

  “That you, Deputy Heck?”

  “It’s me, Clarence,” Heck said. “Mind if we step down?”

  Chief Clarence squinted.

  “Who’s that with you?”

  “A friend of mine,” Heck said. “His name’s Clint Adams.”

  “What’s he doin’ with you?”

  “Watchin’ my back.”

  “That’s so?” Clarence said. “Well, you better step down, then.”

  Heck nodded to Clint and they dismounted. The tied off their horses and followed Clarence inside.

  There were so many hides and blankets in the shack that it looked like the inside of a teepee.

  Clint smelled coffee.

  “Coffee or whiskey, Deputy Heck?” Clarence asked.

  “Coffee, Chief, since you’re already sober.”

  They sat at a table and Clarence poured out three tin mugs of coffee.

  “Wow,” Clint said, after sipp
ing it. “First Indian I ever met who could make good coffee.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Adams,” Clarence said. “What brings the Gunsmith here with Deputy Heck?”

  “Like Heck told you,” Clint said. “I’m watching his back.”

  “We’re lookin’ for the Colter boys, Clarence,” Heck said. “Have they been through here?”

  “Ain’t seen them in long time, Deputy Heck,” Clarence said. “What makes you think they’re in the Territories?”

  “Gabe Colter married a Cherokee squaw,” Heck said. “Looks like they’re headin’ for her people.”

  “Which clan?”

  “Wolf Clan.”

  “Warriors,” Clarence said. “They will not welcome you.”

  “Maybe not,” Heck said. “But we still need to find them, Clarence.”

  “And that is why you’re here?”

  “Yes.”

  Chief Clarence sat back in his chair.

  “What makes you think I know where they are?” he asked.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Heck said. “I just figured if anybody knew where they were, it’d be you.”

  “I am Indian,” Clarence said, “but I am not Cherokee.”

  “Clarence,” Heck said, “we’re gonna camp outside the settlement. We’ll leave in the mornin’. If you have anythin’ to tell us before then, come and see us.”

  “Very well, Deputy Heck,” the Chief said, “but you will eat with us tonight?”

  “Yes. We will make camp and return.”

  “Good!” Suddenly, Clarence became very animated. He approached Heck, grabbed him by the shoulders, and almost embraced him. “It is good to see you again, my friend.”

  “And you, Chief.”

  Clarence turned to face Clint.

  “And you are welcome here, Clint Adams.”

  “Thank you, Chief.”

  Clint and Heck left the chief’s building.

  “Don’t mount up,” Heck said. “We’ll just walk.”

  Clint led Eclipse and followed Heck to a clearing just

  outside the settlement. It was clear that others had camped

  there before.

  “This is where I usually make camp,” Heck said.

  “Looks like others have been here, too.”

  “But not recently,” Heck said.

  They made camp, each taking care of their own horse since neither of them had to make a fire and start cooking. After they ate with the Delaware they’d come back and build a fire.

  As they prepared to walk back to the settlement, Clint picked up his rifle.

  “You won’t need that,” Heck said.

  “What if it’s not here when we get back?” Clint asked.

  “The Delaware don’t steal,” Heck said. “At least, they’ve never stolen from me. To take it with you would insult them.”

  Clint shrugged and set the rifle down by his saddle, which he had also been worrying about. He wasn’t used to making camp and then leaving it unattended.

  “Okay,” Clint said, not sounding very confident that his gear would still be there when they returned to camp. “Let’s go.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  “The boys are stayin’ behind,” Gabe told his brothers. “We’ll be leavin’ in the mornin’.”

  “What are they gonna do?’ Gene asked.

  “They’re gonna stay behind, right here, and wait,” Gabe said.

  “For what?” Joe asked.

  “For the deputy, of course,” Gene said, before Gabe could respond.

  “He’s right,” Gabe said.

  “You think they can handle Heck Thomas?” Gene asked.

  “There’s four of them,” Gabe said, “and they’re experienced. They’ll handle him.”

  Gene didn’t like the idea of splitting up any more this time than he did last time. He needed time to work on the men, turn them to his side. If they got killed by Heck Thomas, he’d have to start all over again.

  “Maybe I should stay behind with them,” Gene suggested.

  “Why?” Gabe asked.

  “They need a leader.”

  “Andy James is capable of leadin’ them,” Gabe said. “They don’t need you.”

  “But—”

  “We’re brothers, Gene,” Gabe said. “We’re stayin’ together.”

  Joe and Brett said nothing when Gene looked to them for help, so he sulked.

  “Get some food started,” Gabe said. “I’ll be back to bring something to Running Deer.”

  He walked away from his three brothers, who were quiet until he went into the building.

  “Running Deer?” Gene asked. “Is that what we really have to call our sister-in-law?”

  “It’s her name,” Joe said.

  “Her Indian name,” Gene said. “What happens when he takes her back to civilization?”

  “Who says he’s gonna take her back?” Brett asked.

  “Well, I’m goin’ back,” Gene said. “I don’t intend to live with the Cherokee the rest of my life.”

  “Why not?” Joe asked, nudging Brett and grinning. “Maybe some squaw will take a shine to you.”

  “Fuck you both,” Gene said as his brothers had a laugh. “You can cook supper, yerselves.”

  He stood up and stalked away.

  The thing Clint knew about Indian cooking is that they would cook—and eat—anything. As they approached the fire where the Delaware had gathered, however, the smell that came to him was clearly beef.

  Chief Clarence came to them and welcomed them both, brought them into the group that was around the fire. Off to one side a long wooden table was being set up for eating. Clint was surprised to see the table covered by a tablecloth.

  Clarence began to introduce Clint around. He wasn’t catching names, but they were cordial to him. Some of them even smiled.

  It was obvious a lot of them knew Heck Thomas from the way they greeted him with handshakes and slaps on the back. Heck even looked happy to see some of them.

  The women were standing around the fire, cooking, and stealing glances at Clint, and then talking amongst themselves. Most were middle-aged, but some of them were young.

  When they sat down at the table, only the men sat with them while the women served. There were bottles of whiskey on the table and everyone was drinking liberally. Clint was sure that, by the end of the meal, there were going to be a lot of drunk Delaware Indians.

  The beef was cooking perfectly. It was accompanied by vegetables and fresh corn bread.

  Clint washed the meal down with whiskey, but did not drink a lot of it. Across the table from him, he noticed Heck was keeping up with the Delaware when it came to the whiskey.

  Clint ate his fill. One of the younger women kept bringing him more, accompanied by smiles.

  “No, thank you,” he said, finally. He touched his stomach. “I’ve had enough.”

  “You are too thin,” she said. She had no accent, and her tone was musical.

  “Not after today,” he told her.

  She smiled at him again, then turned to walk away, bumping him with her hip. He’d never known an Indian woman to flirt. It must have been an accident.

  The table was cleaned of the remnants of the meal, and then smokes began coming out. They were mostly hand-rolled cigarettes, but Heck took out a cigar and handed one to Chief Clarence.

  Clint stood up and leaned across the table. “I’m going back to camp, Heck,” he said.

  “Okay,” Heck said. “I’ll be there in a little while.”

  Clint looked at Clarence. “Thank you for the meal. It was very good.”

  “No more whiskey for you?” Clarence bellowed.

  “No,” Clint said, “no more whiskey for me. Thanks.”

  He turned and walked through the settlement to their camp. He was happy to see all his gear was still there.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Clint sat in the dark at the fire he’d built, waiting for the second pot of coffee to be ready. He thought briefly about going to look for Heck, bu
t it was obvious that his friend was in a place where he was well liked. For all Clint knew, Heck was with a woman, and he wouldn’t have wanted to interrupt that.

  He heard a sound from outside the ring of light the fire offered. He didn’t draw his gun, but he was ready. After all, he didn’t know how well liked he was—not yet, anyway.

  No one appeared, but he heard another footfall.

  “If you’re coming in, come ahead,” he called out. “I’ve got fresh coffee on.”

  He waited a moment, and then a person appeared just on the edge of the light.

  It was the woman who’d been serving him food, the one who had hip bumped him at the end. He’d thought it an accident, but maybe it wasn’t.

  “Hello?” she said. She stood with her hands clasped behind her, her body bent slightly forward like she wasn’t quite sure what to do next.

  He thought maybe she had been sent with a message from Heck.

  “Come on ahead,” he said. “Would you like some coffee?”

  She came forward and said, “Yes, please.”

  “Come and sit at the fire,” he invited. “What’s your name?”

  “I was born Little Fawn,” she said, sitting opposite him, “but now I am called Lily.”

  “Well, Lily,” Clint said, pouring a cup of coffee and handing it across the fire to her, “here you go.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  She sipped it and made a face.

  “Too strong?” he asked.

  She wrinkled her nose and said, “I still have not been able to get used to coffee.”

  Of course not, he thought. Coffee was a white man’s drink.

  “You don’t have to finish it,” he said. She set it aside on the ground. “What brings you out here? Just taking a walk?”

  “No,” she said, clasping her hands in her lap. “I came looking for you.”

  “Oh. I thought maybe you were bringing me a message from Heck.”

  “Not really,” she said, “but I do not think you should expect him tonight.”

  “Oh?”

  “I saw him going into Bright Moon’s teepee.”

  “Bright Moon?”

  “She is also called Delores, now. Yes, Deputy Heck spends time with her whenever he comes here.”