The Dragoons 4

by Patrick E. Andrews

  Late in the evenings, Eagle Talons saw drunken white men at the sutler’s store, and decided they were as stupid as intoxicated Indians. They talked loudly and yelled, they got into fights, and several were hauled off bodily to the white soldier jail, where they were tossed into small, barred rooms. The next day, sick and retching, they were paraded out to receive their punishment.

  When the soldier called Dar-Say suggested that he leave the fort and wait for him south of the river crossing, Eagle Talons was more than happy to oblige. He rode out, and after establishing a camp, killed a deer and skinned it. He cooked up some of the meat, then settled in and bided his time until Dar-Say joined him. Finally, the Sioux warrior was able to relax properly and recover from the taxing ordeal of accompanying the horse soldier patrol.

  One man, however, had enjoyed himself immensely since the return from the patrol. That was Lieutenant Tim Stephans.

  The young officer had been bold enough to make calls on Miss Loralie Campbell at the residence of Colonel and Mrs. Isaac Cowler. He was so infatuated with the young woman that he did not care one bit if even the august person of the regimental commander was annoyed by his constant company.

  If Loralie’s looks had impressed the young officer in the hills following her release from captivity, her appearance after being rested, fed, and dressed up in one of Margaret Cowler’s dresses positively stunned him. She was indeed a beautiful young woman. She had a sweet smile and demure manner that charmed Tim to distraction. Although obviously no graduate of a young ladies’ finishing school, she had a way about her that belied her rural Pennsylvania upbringing.

  The only thing that disturbed Tim was the fact that, as Darcy Hays had warned him, the population of Fort Laramie had begun to talk about her and point fingers whenever she was out and about. She was a woman who had been held by the Sioux. Everyone knew what that meant. Although he resented the gossip, Tim also found himself sinking into dark spells when he thought of her being under the power of lusty Indian warriors. Each time the mental picture leaped to his mind, he fought to make it go away. But the torturous images kept returning.

  He finally decided he had to talk to someone about it. The only person he could think of was his commanding officer, who also happened to be his best friend in the Army. One early evening, rather than go to the colonel’s quarters, Tim called on Captain Darcy Hays.

  He knocked on the door. Rather than hearing the usual call to enter, Tim was surprised to see Hays come to the portal. The captain opened it slightly to peer out.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s me, sir,” Tim said. “I must speak to you.”

  “What about?” Hays asked.

  “It’s personal, sir. I’d rather not discuss it out here.” Tim frowned in puzzlement. “What’s the matter? Is there something wrong in there?”

  “Oh, hell!” Darcy opened the door and motioned for him to enter. “Hurry up, damn it! I don’t want some nosy passerby looking in here!”

  Tim stepped in and looked around. “What are you doing, sir?”

  A haversack, saddlebags, blankets, and other gear were laid out for what was obviously packing up. Hays did not respond to the question.

  “Are you going somewhere, sir?” Tim asked, trying again.

  “Yes, Pm going somewhere, sir,” Hays snapped back in irritation.

  “Are you going on the retirement list sooner than expected?” Tim asked.

  “You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?” Hays complained. “No, I am not retiring earlier than I planned. Now, what’s this damned personal thing you want so much to talk about?”

  “It’s about Miss Campbell,” Tim said. “Where are you going?”

  “Have you fallen in love with her, as I feared?” Hays asked. “And, young man, it is none of your damned business where I’m going.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. I love her deeply,” Tim said. “You’re going back after that liquor peddler, aren’t you?”

  “Just a damned minute!” Hays snapped. “Let’s talk about one thing or the other. What do you wish to discuss? Miss Campbell, or my impending journey?”

  “Let’s talk about this trip you are preparing for,” Tim said.

  “I’ve been relieved of active field duty by Colonel Cowler,” Hays explained. “Therefore, I’ve decided to do a last bit of exploration of this great wild country before I head back to that retirement hotel in St. Louis.”

  Tim carefully eyed him as he pondered the words he heard. Then he shook his head. “You’re going back after that whiskey peddler, aren’t you?”

  “You asked me that once already,” Hays said.

  Tim gave the matter some more thought. “That’s why Eagle Talons went outside the garrison and set up camp by the river. He’s waiting for you!”

  Hays pointed a warning finger at the young officer. “You just keep that to yourself, Lieutenant Tim Stephans.”

  “By God! You’re going off on an expedition without permission,” Tim said. “That’s a court-martial offense, Captain!”

  “So what?” Hays said. “If I’m successful and bring that bastard or his corpse in, I’ll be forgiven and sent on my way. If I fail, I’ll be lying dead somewhere out there in the Black Hills, so it won’t matter a bit.”

  “I want to go with you, sir!” Tim exclaimed.

  “Are you crazy?” Hays asked. “You’ll be throwing your career away. Believe me, you’ll be court-martialed, even if we bring back that entire gang with their hands tied behind their backs and all their whiskey shoved up their behinds.”

  “I don’t care, sir,” Tim said. “My career isn’t much to waste, is it?”

  “You’re out of—” Hays stopped speaking and looked at his young friend. After a moment he smiled and laid a fatherly hand on the lieutenant’s shoulder. “I really appreciate the offer, Tim. It moves me deeply. But you’ve too much to lose and nothing to gain. I’m taking a government mount, government firearms and ammunition, along with other property that belongs to the taxpayers. Hell, they’re probably going to deduct the price of any bullets I put in that whiskey peddler’s hide as it is.”

  “I still want to go along with you,” Tim said.

  “This is my last hurrah,” Hays said. “I want to get out of this career with a bang. At this time in your life, it would be real stupid of you to go along on a gesture like that. You have years of useful living ahead of you.” He winked at the lieutenant. “Or at least, you should make an attempt to be useful, huh?”

  “Let me tell you the truth,” Tim said. “I’m ready to cash in this army life of mine. If I can come out of it with my own final, magnificent gesture, I’ll be happy.”

  “Oh, God!” Hays moaned. “You’ve fallen in love with Miss Campbell, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, sir,” Tim admitted. “That’s what I’ve come over to talk to you about. But the subject changed.”

  “Sit down,” Hays said. He went over to a cupboard and brought out a liquor bottle and two glasses. “We have to talk, my young friend.”

  They settled down at the table by the window. Hays poured them each a generous glass of bourbon. They raised their drinks in a toast.

  “Here’s to beautiful women,” Tim said.

  “I’ll certainly drink to that,” Hays said, thinking of Chandra.

  Tim pulled the tintype photograph of Loralie Campbell from his tunic pocket. “I never returned it to her,” he said. “I couldn’t bear to part with it.”

  Hays took the likeness and studied it. He suddenly wished photography had been around when he and Chandra had married. It would have been wonderful to have a lifelike portrait of her. All he had were sweetly painful memories of her face. The only picture he knew that existed of her had been painted when she was sixteen years old, and that hung in her family’s parlor in North Carolina—a place to which he could never return. He handed Loralie Campbell’s photograph back.

  Hays asked, “Does she return your affections?”

  “Yes,” Tim said.

>   “Have you proposed marriage to her?” Hays asked. “No,” Tim said.

  “Then how the hell do you know she harbors any tender feelings toward you?” Hays wanted to know.

  “We were sitting on the swing out on the Cowlers’ porch with Mrs. Cowler one evening,” Tim said. “The colonel was inside and needed something. When Mrs. Cowler left us, I could not resist putting my hand down on Loralie's.” He smiled dreamily. “She did not move it.”

  Hays shrugged. “That is not exactly a pledge of lifelong love and devotion, young man.”

  . “But, sir, I made such a pledge to her,” Tim said. “I had to speak rapidly. I told her of my affections and longings in a torrent of words. She said she felt the same.”

  “She actually stated that she was also in love with you, did she?” Hays inquired.

  “Not in so many words, but the meaning was there,” Tim said.

  “Just what did she say?” Hays asked.

  “It wasn’t exactly what she said, it was what she didn’t say,” Tim said. Once more he smiled dreamily. “She spoke with her eyes, sir.”

  “Oh, God!” Hays moaned. “You mean to say she didn't utter a single word to you?”

  “It wasn't necessary,” Tim insisted. “The full meaning of what affections were in her heart swept over me like she had sung them out.”

  “And then what happened?” Hays asked.

  “Mrs. Cowler returned,” Tim replied sadly.

  Hays poured them another drink. “Are you sure of how you feel, Tim? I mean, really and truly certain of her feelings for you?”

  “Oh, yes, indeed,” Tim replied.

  “Well, in that case, it seems to me there is nothing, nor anyone, standing in your way,” Hays advised him. “If I were you, I would propose to Miss Campbell, damn my career, get out of the Army, and take her back to North Carolina.”

  “I am from Georgia, sir,” Tim said.

  “You know what I mean,” Hays said.

  “That was what I was going to do,” Tim said. “I wanted to tell you about it. Then I learned you’re going after that whiskey peddler. I wish to go with you, sir.”

  “Why in the world would you want to forsake your lady-love to traipse around the Black Hills looking for some no good son of a bitch who might kill you?” Hays asked, in a tone that showed how astounded he was.

  Tim smiled shyly. “Because that is what you are going to do, sir.”

  “Yeah? Well, you know how dumb I am!” Hays exclaimed.

  “I’m just as dumb,” Tim said.

  “You’re dumber!” Hays snapped. “I lost my love years ago. You just found yours.”

  “I can’t explain it, sir,” Tim said.

  “You realize that both officers of ‘L’ Company will be gone at the same time,” Hays said, then added, “—without permission.”

  “When are we leaving, sir?” Tim asked. He didn’t want to hear any more arguments or protestations.

  “Meet me at the company stables before dawn with all your gear and arms,” Hays said. “I’ll have ball and powder for the carbine. You’ll have to bring your own for your Colt.”

  “I have plenty, sir,” Tim said. He frowned. “You’re not going to try to sneak away from me, are you?”

  “My word of honor as an officer and a gentleman,” Hays said. “If you meet me at the stable just before daylight, we’ll ride out together to join Eagle Talons and hunt down the whiskey peddler and his men.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Tim said. He drained his glass. “I am going to the Cowlers and speak to Loralie.” He stood up and put his cap on his head. “I am going to ask her to become my lawfully wedded wife.”

  “You might not come back to become her husband,” Hays warned him.

  “In that case, she will know that my love for her was true,” Tim said. “That will comfort me even in the grave.”

  “Oh, God!” Hays moaned.

  “I shall see you at the stables, sir,” Tim said, leaving the captain’s quarters.

  Tim walked down Officers’ Row to the colonel’s residence. He stepped up on the porch and knocked. Margaret Cowler answered his summons and invited him to enter.

  “I would like very much to speak to Miss Campbell,” Tim said in a solemn, formal tone.

  Margaret was a bit puzzled by his conduct. “Of course, Mister Stephans. Each time you’ve called here, I believe you spoke to Loralie.”

  Loralie came into the parlor and smiled a greeting to her lieutenant. He walked over and took her by the hand, leading the young woman to the door. He turned and looked at Margaret.

  “Excuse us, please, Mrs. Cowler,” Tim said.

  “I’ll leave the room, if you wish, Mister Stephans,” Margaret Cowler said.

  “We’ll step out on the porch, thank you,” Tim said. He took Loralie outside, leading her to the swing. “Sit down, please, Loralie.”

  “Yes, Tim,” she said.

  After she was seated, he faced her for a moment, then suddenly dropped on one knee. After a deep breath, he said rapidly, “Loralie, will you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Loralie smiled. “No, thank you.”

  The expression on Tim’s face remained the same. “What?”

  “No, thank you,” Loralie said.

  The full feeling hit Tim Stephans like the kick of a Missouri mule. “Huh? You—you won’t marry me? But— but you said—-the other night, I said I had great affection for you. You said you felt the same toward me.” He stammered. “Well, well, you—you didn’t exactly—say it, but—but—” He gulped in panic. “I even put my hand on yours, Loralie.”

  “I like you fine, of course,” Loralie said. “But the last thing I want right now in my life is a husband. You have no obligations whatsoever toward me, Tim, and please don’t feel that you do.” She got off the swing and walked to the door, entering the quarters without another word.

  Tim stood there for several long moments, then Margaret Cowler came outside, giving him a puzzled look. “Is everything all right, Mister Stephans?”

  “Huh?” he asked.

  “Loralie walked in the house looking very strange,” she said. “She looked like she was ready to weep. Did you upset her?”

  “I hope not,” Tim said. He shrugged and sighed. “Oh, well! It doesn’t matter.”

  He turned and walked slowly down Officers’ Row to Darcy Hays’s quarters. The sad young man walked through the door without knocking and grabbed the bottle of bourbon. Tipping it back, he drank a half dozen deep swallows.

  Darcy watched him until he set the liquor down. “She turned you down?”

  “Yes,” Tim said. He belched. “Well, now. I must get to my quarters and prepare myself for our adventure. You did say just before sunrise, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Hays answered.

  “See you, then,” Tim said. He made a calm exit, walking off into the night toward his own small domicile. Hays hurried to the door. “Rather than meet me at the stables, bring your gear back as soon as you’ve packed,” he called out.

  “Yes, sir,” Tim answered in the darkness.

  The captain turned back and went directly to the cupboard, getting out more bourbon.

  “This is definitely a two-bottle night,” he said to himself.

  Fourteen

  The day following the return of Captain Darcy Hays’s patrol from its bad-luck expedition into the Black Hills, Colonel Cowler had sent an entire dragoon company to collect the dead and retrieve what equipment and horses they could in the valley where the desperate gallop to freedom had taken place.

  Surprisingly, all the animals and government equipment were recovered. The fact that no looting had taken place gave evidence that, after the battle, the ambushers chose to flee quickly in order to avoid any potential confrontation with troops from Fort Laramie. Even with easy pickings so close, the criminals still feared the Army enough not to tarry for any length of time.

  When the dead and equipment were returned to Fort Laramie, a sad ceremony
was held at the garrison as the fallen troopers of “L” Company of the Dragoon Regiment were respectfully put to rest.

  Seventeen graves had been added to the post cemetery. It was a situation that affected everyone in the small group of troops and the families of the married men. Even the loners among the “L” Company who had stuck to themselves and had few or no friends were properly mourned. A veteran sergeant remarked that he had never heard taps played so sadly before in his more than fifteen years of service.

  Now, with the burying of the dead finished, three horses splashed across the shallow ford in the Platte River a few miles from Fort Laramie. The riders, not wanting to be caught in the open in daylight, hastened the pace as they rode through the valley where the dragoons had been killed in the ambush.

  In the weak light of the new day, the open space in the meadow where the soldiers died seemed melancholy and foreboding. The riders pressed on until they reached the trees of the forest. Only then did they slow down.

  “Let’s pull off into those trees,” Darcy Hays said.

  “Good idea,” Tim Stephans agreed.

  Eagle Talons, his face wearing a furious frown, spoke in a guttural tone. “You drunk! Both drunk!”

  “We’re not drunk,” Hays insisted. “But I’ll admit we drank whiskey last night.”

  “We drank whiskey all night,” Tim said, requalifying the statement. “But there was a good reason for it.”

  “Never good to drink whiskey,” Eagle Talons said. “I see white men drunk at fort. They stupid like Indian. Whiskey no good for nobody. You white men bring smallpox, and other sicknesses when men and women lie together, and you bring whiskey. Whiskey is the most bad. This I say!”

  “Your disapproval of the imbibing of spirits is sometimes not well taken,” Hays said.

  “What you say?” Eagle Talons asked.

  “Never mind,” Hays said, giving up trying to argue with the warrior.

  “We ride,” Eagle Talons said. “We cannot catch whiskey peddler under these trees. He is in the hills. That is where we go. Come!”