by F. M. Worden
“Those dogs have lessons to learn about a white man’s horses, serves em right to get kicked,” he said to himself.
He rode past many squaws that were doing their chores. Young boys and girls came out and followed along with him for some distance, most had their hands up wanting Sam to give them something. He would shake his head and motion for them to get away, he spurred his mount into a long trot and headed to the fort.
Approaching the fort, he met two mounted officers. A Captain and Lieutenant. He stopped them and asked, “Why are all the Indians camped here?”
The Captain, a stout looking man in his early thirties with a large handle bar mustache answered, “This is a treaty meeting for the first time on the plains. Most of the tribes in this area are here. We think there’s more than ten thousand Indians and more coming. The Crows and Shoshones haven’t come yet, the Cheyenne have refused to come. Who knows what’s gonna happen when Crows and Shoshones get here, they’re old enemies of the Sioux, and Arapahos. Are you on the way to the gold fields?” he asked.
“No, soldiers I had met in St Louis told me there’s plenty of work here, I’m looking for work.”
“We’ve imported a lot of Mexican people to work around the Fort. They’re working on the buildings and grounds. You might get work with the wood cutter, north of here, see the Dutchman, he’s the contractor for supplying wood to the Fort, tell him Captain Mack sent you.”
“How far north is he?” Sam asked.
“Eight or so miles in the timber, you can’t miss them, take your horses up to the stables and tell Sergeant Kelly I said to grain and feed em, you can stay here for the night, we have supper call at five, you’re welcome to eat with us.”
The Captain was very cordial. Sam thanked him and rode up to the stables.
Sam asked a private if he would call the stable Sergeant. A Sergeant heard and came out and asking what he wanted. Sam told him, “Captain Mack said to stable and feed my two horses.”
“Okay by me,” He said. “I’ll show you where to stow your saddles and gear.”
After he unsaddled his horses the Sergeant led the two and stalled them in the stable. A bugle sounded the mess call. Several troopers came from the stable and headed for a huge tent set up a short distance from the stables. The Sergeant gave orders to two privates to stand guard until he got back.
He said to Sam, “Come on, let’s go get some chow.” Sam went with him to the tent, long lines of troopers were going past tables where soldiers were putting food on their plates, Sam followed the Sergeant. This was the first hot meal he had in days he hadn’t fixed himself, he also managed to get a large cup of black coffee. The two sat at a long table with benches on each side, troopers filling the benches, most of the conversation of the troopers was of the Redskins camped on the grounds around the fort. Sam listened to their talk, one soldier said he had heard the wagon train with the presents for the Injun’s was late and the Chiefs were getting mad. Sam heard some of the troopers complain about the Government giving the Redskins gifts.
Sergeant Kelly started telling Sam of the building going on. “We’re gonna have one of the best posts on the Oregon Trail. A new mess, three barracks, a power magazine, nine houses for officers and a Sutlers store will be finished before summer is over. It’s gonna be a great place for us enlisted men to serve. Been in this mans army fourteen yar’s and I kain’t sees a better place to be stationed.”
After supper, Sam thanked the Sergeant and asked if he could sleep in the harness room tonight.
“Okay by me,” the Sergeant said.
Sam took a short walk around to stretch his legs. Then rolled out his bed and went to sleep.
Next morning he rode the ten miles to the wood cutter’s camp. Finding the Dutchman and getting a job, he was shown by the Dutchman a tent that would be his home for as long as he worked there. The Dutchman also let Sam keep his horses in a pen where the mules were kept.
“The men call me Dutch, we’re glad to have another cutter as many men have run off to the gold fields in California. The big tent is where we eat. We keep a guard on the mule pen just in case the Redskins decide to steal some, most Indians don’t care for mules so we ain’t had no trouble.”
Sam was given an axe and a stone to sharpen it with. His job was to trim all the limbs off the fallen trees, to make firewood, he worked at that job for over a month. During that time some troopers stopped and told of the treaty with the tribes and said the Indians had to be moved to Hat Creek thirty miles west, the wagon bearing their gifts was late and the forage for the Indian ponies became such a problem the council site had to be moved. Many more tribes and sub-tribes came to take part in the talks, making this the first great peace council with the plain’s Indians.
The meetings took on the color of a powwow like the Indians had never seen before, the tribes showed off their regalia and ponies, the chiefs smoked peace pipes and promised to not fight among themselves and not to attack the emigrants on the trail. Each tribe got a territory of their own to live and hunt in, plus an annuity of fifty thousand dollars worth of trade goods. The commissioners declared peace on the plains forever.
Sam was still working for Dutch and became a teamster. He would drive a timber wagon to the horse drawn saw mill at the fort, two or three times a week. On one of these trips he asked a Mr. Tuller at the Sutlers store if he knew of any cabins near the fort for sale. He was told several old trappers were getting ready to go east, he should go and ask them. He had no luck in finding them.
The next Sunday Sam rode down to the fort. The wood contract had been fulfilled and the men would soon be on their own. Sam stopped again at the Sutlers store to ask about the cabins. Mr. Tuller owner of the store told him a trapper by the name of Jim Bridger had a cabin he hadn’t used in a long time. The trapper had been living with the Snake Indians for sometime.
Sam asked, “Jim Bridger? My Pa told of a man of that name he trapped with, when he was a mountain man. This must be the same man?”
“I’m shore he is. Why don’t you take the cabin, he won’t care?”
Sam asked Mr. Tuller if he knew of a place he could start a gun repair shop. “We have a room here in the store you can use, we been looking for something to help bring emigrants to our store. Be glad to have you, you’ll need to have a stove in that room, it’ll be cold this winter, the emigrants have thrown all kinds of household goods down on the trail, to lighten their wagons. I’m sure you can find a stove, take my spring wagon and go look.”
Sam said he would as soon as he came back from the wood cutters camp. Sam figured things were going good for him and was a pleased young man in the fall of 1851.
Chapter 7
The Maiden Fawn
Sam found Jim Bridger’s cabin and moved in. While Sam was setting up his shop in the Sutlers store, he asked Mr. Tuller if he knew of someone to help him write a letter to send to Jake Hawkins in St Louis?
“My wife can help you, she teaches at the fort school. When do you want to write this letter? You’ll have to send it soon. The mail only goes once a month. The last will go soon. There’ll be no more mail till spring.”
Sam wanted to get more tools sent from Jake, he needed to send a letter right away. “I have a few tools but will need more to do a good job.”
Mrs. Tuller came in that afternoon and asked Sam if he could write. “Not very well,” he admitted. This woman in her mid fifties, shiny black hair and a ready smile said she would write the letter for him.
This winter she would help teach him to write, if he wanted. Sam told her his Ma had started to teach him before she passed. “I can write my name,” he said proudly.
“That’s great. Let’s get going on your letter this evening.”
“I’ve moved my belongings into a cabin west of the store. I’ll come back this evening. We can do the letter then.”
Sam was very impressed with Mrs. Tuller. She was a woman with a fast and witty mind. Reminded him of his Ma. He often thought of his Ma and Pa,
and Jack.
Mrs. Tuller had brought a book of a-b-c’s and a primer for Sam to take and study. “Read these books as best you can and I’ll help you all I can.” She asked Sam to call her Amanda.
Sam asked if she and Mr. Tuller had any children. “No.” She told him she had lost a boy baby some years earlier. “He would be about your age now, we’ve never had another, I can’t have children. It almost killed Mr. Tuller when the baby died. Please never ask Mr. Tuller about him.” Sam promised he wouldn’t say anything.
The letter got finished and was mailed the next day. Sam asked for wood stock tools, a vice, and any other tools Jake would think he would need to complete his shop. He wrote that freight wagons would be coming in the spring. “Be sure to let me know how much I will owe you. Money will be sent right back.”
The next day a light snow was falling. Sam was on the roof of the cabin doing some repair and didn’t hear the horseback riders come up.
“What the hell you’s doing on my cabin?” a loud voice almost sent him off the roof. Sam turned to see a white man with a long beard and several Indians on horseback looking at him.
“What the hell does it look like? I’m trying to patch a hole in this damn old roof.”
“You know who’s cabin this is?” the old white man asked.
“An old trapper named Jim Bridger, I was told. Folks said he wasn’t use-n it no more, if he comes I’ll see him about it.”
“Wa’ll you’re a looking at him, get your ass down here and we’ll talk.” The man sounded angry.
Sam dropped to the ground and stood before the man on horse back. “You old Gabe?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Sam, Sam Duncan, you knew my Pa.”
The old man was off his horse in a shot and giving Sam a big bear hug. “How the hell is your Pa?”
Sam told him that his Pa had passed some time ago. Gabe wiped his nose on his coat sleeve, with his eyes full of tears, he told Sam his Pa was one of the finest men he had ever known. “What in God’s name you doing here at Fort Laramie a fix-n this old cabin?”
“I planned to stay the winter and live here in this cabin if you don’t care.”
“Hell no. I’m living with the snakes and have a warm lodge and a warm woman, no man can ask for more.” He reared back and laughed until his whole body shook. The Indian horsemen all laughed with him. It was so funny Sam began to laugh too.
Gabe finally controlled himself and suggested going in the cabin and have some coffee and a snort, Sam had a pot made, Gabe and the Indians had the snort. The Indians and Gabe enjoyed the coffee so much Sam had to make another pot.
Gabe offered a snort to Sam. “I never been a drinking man, it don’t like me and I don’t like it.”
“Ever man to his own poison, I always says.” Gabe reared back and laughed and laughed. The Indians laughed with him, Sam laughed too, it was all very humorous.
Gabe told Sam that he was going to be the chief of scouts for Fort Laramie the coming spring. “How you’s like to scout for me?” he asked.
“I know nothing about scouting, but I’m sure willing to learn.”
“I have one of the best durn scouts a comm-n to work for me this spring, Old Lonesome Charley Reynolds. I’ll pair you’s up with him, He’s the best. If-n you’s like your Pa, it won’t take you’s long to larn this scout-n business.” Gabe said as he shook Sam’s shoulder.
Sam told him he could count on him. “I’m a looking forward to it.”
Gabe said Sam could have the cabin. “Fix her tight as it’s gonna be a cold windy winter. What you’s need is a damn good woman, they makes them winter nights a hole lot better.” He sat back and laughed again, so did the Indians. Gabe told Sam they had to get a going. “Gotta make thirty miles before resting. I’ll be a seeing you’s when the snow melts.”
Gabe and his Indian companions mounted and rode off toward the west. Sam watched them go and felt a sense of loneliness for the first time since he had come west.
Sam spent all his time fixing the shop and his cabin until the snows got too deep to work on either.
The post commander heard Sam was repairing guns and sent many rifles for him to repair. Sam cut a trap door in the back wall and set a target fifty yards out so he could check his work, this went on all winter.
Mrs. Tuller and Sam became good friends as she taught him to read and write, she found he was a quick study and enjoyed her time helping him.
The spring came with heavy rain that made the trails deep in mud, the scouting didn’t start until late May.
Sam along with Charley and four Shoshone Indian scouts kept a close watch on the Cheyenne Dog Soldiers. The Dog Soldiers raided the Sioux and Blackfeet villages to take horses and captives. The war chief Rain in the Face led the warriors. As long as the Cheyenne stayed away from the Oregon Trail the white soldiers paid little attention to what they did. Old Gabe warned the new commander of Fort Laramie, Colonel Phil Sheridan that an all out war between the tribes would be forthcoming if something wasn’t done to stop the raiders. The Colonel only said, “The best Indian is a dead one.” The raids continued.
A party of commissioners was sent from Washington to try for a treaty between the tribes, to try and stop the killings between the tribes and the raids on the trail.
Old Gabe was a friend of one of the commissioners, Tom Fitzpatrick who knew Sam’s Pa, he asked Gabe and his scouts to get the Chiefs of the Sioux, Cheyenne, Arapaho and Paiute together for a friendly council meeting.
Sam was assigned four Crow scouts to help find the various Sioux clans. Iron Fist was the oldest, Black Elk was Sam’s age, the other two were young teens, Curly and White Man Runs Him.
Sam and the scouts found the clan of the old Chief Flying Eagle some eighty miles north east of Fort Laramie. Sam and Iron Fist rode right into the center of the village. They carried no weapons and raised their hands in a show of peace. It was a chance they had to take, the old chief came out and spoke to Iron Fist. “Why you come with this white man to our lodges? No white eyes should be in our country, you Crows have turned against all your Indian brothers, now you come with the Shooter to our village. Why you come?”
Sam was known as the Shooter to the Sioux, the killing of the three Cheyenne Dog soldiers on the Oregon Trail had filtered down thru the tribes, the Dog Soldiers named Sam, the white man who kills Indians.
Iron Fist told the chief the whites wanted to have another treaty with the Sioux and all the clans. A meeting was going to be held on the Little Powder Creek near the Stone Tower the First day of the new moon. “Will you come?” Iron Fist asked.
Before the chief could answer, a young warrior rode his horse hard against Sam’s, in a loud voice he told all the Indians gathered there, “I know this Shooter, soon, he will be mine.”
Iron Fist told Sam what the warrior said. Sam dropped from his horse. Pulled his belt knife and spoke, “Talk is easy.” Sam stood six feet four inches, weighed two hundred pounds. The warrior was near his equal in stature. They squared off both had knives at the ready. War hoops were heard thru out the village from the warrior braves.
Chief Flying Eagle came between the two. “No fight! These white eyes has come in peace, no fight now,” he demanded. The warrior sneered and turned away.
The chief said he would come to the meeting. Sam and Iron Fist rode safely out of the village. Iron Fist told Sam, “Is good you show no fear. That warrior is the war chief Red Cloud. He says he will drive all white eyes from this land. He is much respected by all the tribes. I say he is wrong. Our Crow Chief, Plenty Coups say too many white men to fight. They like birds of the sky. Too many to count. If we be friends, the whites will treat us well.”
Sam replied to him, “I hope your chief is right.” They talked no more of the Crow chief and his logic.
Three more villages the scouts found and made the invitation to come to the meeting. No trouble until the last clan, another brave challenged Sam. The village chief stopped the challenge, No harm
was done. Iron Fist said that the War chief was Sitting Bull, another hard head who was making war talk.
Sam and the Crows returned to Fort Laramie and were told to accompany Old Gabe and the commissioners to the meeting.
The party left Fort Laramie with four officers, fifty troopers, four white scouts, twenty Indian scouts, the two commissioners with a pack train of fifty pack mules, loaded with presents for the Indians.
In three days the party made camp several miles from the meeting place. Only the officers, white scouts and the commissioners were to enter the camp of the Indians. The camp numbered more than a thousand men, women and children.
Old Gabe told Sam to stay close with his Crows. “We may need you.” That’s all he said.
Sam and the Crows moved to a wooded hillside above a creek and a half mile from the village of tepees. Sam had the Crows hobble the horses and keep guard and let the horses graze the new green grass. Sam took his bed roll and moved down the hill aways to where he could see the creek and listen to the rushing stream. He lay down and fell asleep.
Some time later he was awakened by female laughter. Looking down to the creek he could see two females bathing in the stream, standing in the water up to their knees, their naked wet bodies gleaming in the sun light. Sam could see their buckskin dresses hanging from tree branches in the woods across the stream. The girls were gently splashing each other and enjoying them- selves in the clear cool stream. The older girl was tall with soft black loose hair that hung to her hips, her creamy tan complexion, her round firm breasts and girlish laughter, set Sam’s heart beating so fast he felt it would leave his chest. Never had he seen a more beautiful woman, she looked more white than Indian. If lighting strikes a man once in his life time, it hit Sam hard that sunny bright summer day on that hill side, Sam fell deeply in love with this Indian girl.