“I’ll find somebody in Laramie to take care of her,” he blurted out, surprising Cooter after the long pause in their conversation.
Anxious to put troublesome thoughts out of his mind, he went back to the fire and sat down beside Red Hawk. As soon as he entered the firelight, Molly’s eyes were upon him. She picked up the limb she had fashioned for a spit, and held it out, a questioning look on her face. “No, thanks,” he replied. “I’m full.” She replaced the spit and came over to sit between Matt and Red Hawk. Cooter and Red Hawk exchanged knowing winks.
Chapter 9
Major William H. Evans, Eleventh Ohio Volunteer Cavalry and commanding officer of Fort Laramie, looked up and frowned when the sergeant major informed him of the four people seeking his audience. “What the hell do they want?” he asked when told they were civilians.
“Sir,” the sergeant major replied, “it’s ol’ Cooter Martin. Says he’s got a message for you from Red Cloud. There’s three others with him. Two of ’em—a white man and a Crow Injun—are a couple of Captain Boyd’s scouts. I don’t know what they’re doin’ with Cooter. The other one is a young woman, and I don’t know what she’s doin’ with ’em, either.”
Major Evans looked perplexed. “Well, send them in,” he said. He had been awaiting word from Red Cloud and High Backbone after messengers were sent asking the chiefs to come to a treaty talk. He had not expected someone like Cooter Martin to speak for the great Sioux leader Red Cloud. But he didn’t question it.
“Miss,” Major Evans said to Molly in a brief show of courtesy before turning his attention to the three men standing before him.
“Red Cloud sent me to tell you he’s bringing his people in to talk,” Cooter said. “He says to tell you he expects the soldiers to close down the trail through the Powder River country.” There was a pause while Evans waited for more. “I reckon that’s it,” Cooter said.
“Huh,” Evans grunted. “When is he going to arrive? There are other bands coming in. They’ll be here early next month. The commission from Washington will be here then. We need to have Red Cloud here at the same time.”
“He’ll be here,” Cooter replied. “If he says he’ll be here, he’ll be here.” He looked at Matt, then back at the major, as if wondering what more the officer expected.
“All right, then,” Evans said, concluding the interview. “We’ll be expecting him.” He got up from his desk, signaling the end of the meeting.
“Begging your pardon, sir,” Matt said. “I was hopin’ you might be able to help us find a place for this young lady to stay.” He went on to explain that Molly’s mother and stepfather had been murdered by a Sioux war party and Molly captured by the Sioux war chief Iron Claw.
Major Evans’ demeanor changed immediately upon hearing of the young girl’s tragedy. He apologized for not recognizing Molly immediately as the young girl who had passed through recently. “I’m sure we can find a place for you, miss. You can stay with Mrs. Evans and me temporarily until we can find something more permanent.” He directed his words back at Matt then. “We wondered about the young lady and her parents after they left here for Montana Territory. They hired a breed named Jack Black Dog as a guide.” Matt noticed that Molly’s eyes opened wide at the mention of the guide’s name. Evans went on. “But he showed up here about a week later, saying that they decided they didn’t need a guide and sent him back.”
Matt’s attention was nailed to Molly’s face after seeing her reaction to the mere mention of the half-breed’s name. Upon hearing Major Evans’ last remark, her eyes almost sparked, her face tensed into a deep frown, and she began shaking her head violently. “What is it, Molly?” Matt pressed. “Ain’t that the way it happened?”
She continued to shake her head, even harder than before. Matt continued to probe. “Are you sayin’ your guide had somethin’ to do with the attack on you?” She nodded then, her eyes wide and excited. But there was more she was trying to tell him. Frowning, she tried to make him understand with gestures. He guessed again. “He ran off and left you. Is that it?” She shook her head, frustrated. Seeing paper and a pen on the major’s desk, she pointed at them, her eyes questioning.
“Certainly,” Major Evans quickly replied and pushed the ink pot over toward her.
She hurriedly scribbled down a few words and handed Matt the paper.
“‘He was with them,’” Matt read aloud. “Why, that low-down son of a gun—” he started, but turned in midsentence to face the major. “Where can I find this Jack Black Dog?”
“I couldn’t say,” Evans replied. “I think he hung around the post for a couple of days, then left for who knows where.”
“I suspect Jack Black Dog’s in Iron Claw’s village. That’s where he usually hangs out.” This came from Cooter Martin. Matt turned to question the old man.
“You know this man?” he asked.
“Shore, I know him—at least know of him. He spends half his time beggin’ fer crumbs around Iron Claw’s camp. Don’t surprise me none that he led this little lady’s folks right to ol’ Iron Claw.”
“The main thing is she’s safe now,” Major Evans said, “and like I said, she’s welcome to stay with my wife and me. I’m being reassigned to another post in June, else she could stay with us longer. We’ll find a place, though.” He looked again at Molly, whose expression was one of distress. “Don’t you worry, miss. We’ll take care of you.”
“She wanna stay with Slaughter.”
Evans turned to gaze at the Crow scout, who until that moment had been content to remain silent. He glanced at Matt, but the sandy-haired scout responded with only a slight shake of his head. Cooter grinned broadly. Not quite sure what to make of it, Major Evans concluded, “I expect it would be a good idea to let the post surgeon take a look at her, after the ordeal she’s been through.”
When they were outside, Matt questioned Molly. “He said you came through here with your parents. Is that so? I didn’t know your father was alive.” She shook her head and affected a deep frown. “It wasn’t your father?” Again she shook her head. “Your mother got married again—is that it?” She nodded.
* * *
Martha Riddler, wife of assistant surgeon John G. Riddler, was beside herself with empathy for the unfortunate young girl brought in to see her husband. She took over like the natural mother hen she tended to be and insisted, “You can stay right here with us, child—Cora Evans would drive you crazy with her endless prattle.” The question of Molly’s welfare was settled right then and there.
Matt felt a great sense of relief, knowing that Molly was going to be well taken care of. Martha Riddler had the look of a mother who needed a child to care for. Molly, though grateful for being accepted by the doctor’s family, was still distressed that Matt did not choose to take her with him. She would accept his decision without protest, even though she longed with all her heart to go with him. Martha Riddler, compassionate human being that she was, took note of the distress in Molly’s eyes and was prompted to reassure her. “Don’t you fret, child. You’ll be all right with us.” She took Molly by the shoulders, held her at arm’s length, and added, “First thing we need to do is put some meat on your bones. You look like you haven’t eaten in a month.”
Molly managed a smile for her before quickly returning her gaze to Matt. “I’ll be lookin’ in on you from time to time,” Matt assured her in leaving.
She nodded, but although he might mean what he said, she was not certain that she would ever see him again. Her eyes, soft and searching his, did not shed a tear as he smiled to reassure her. She stood watching him as he departed, her fingers caressing the small silver medal on the chain around her neck. Her late mother had often sought to explain the unfairness of life that would leave an innocent young girl without the ability to express her feelings. How she longed to cry out to him that thoughts of him filled her every waking moment! Surely he must know how deeply she felt for him. How could he not know? Others saw it in her face. Red Hawk and Cooter
had seen it at once. She suspected that even Martha Riddler had immediately sensed it. She could only conclude that he, too, knew of her feelings for him. But he simply did not have similar feelings for her.
When he had gone, she turned to meet Martha Riddler’s understanding smile. “Come, child,” the doctor’s wife said. “I’ll make us a cup of tea, and we can sit down and get acquainted.”
Looking ashamed and apologetic, Molly motioned toward her mouth and shook her head. Martha understood what the girl was trying to tell her. “Never you mind,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with silence. There’s too much noise around here, anyway.”
* * *
Lieutenant Frederick LeVan, upon hearing that the sandy-haired scout had returned to Fort Laramie, sent his sergeant to find him. LeVan had been assigned the duty of leading a patrol to investigate the massacre of Molly’s mother and Franklin Lyons. In actuality, the patrol was little more than a burial detail, but LeVan wanted Slaughter as a scout. “The man has a head on his shoulders,” LeVan told Captain Boyd, “and he’s absolutely fearless.”
Boyd was reluctant to rehire Slaughter because the man had quit the last patrol to which he had been assigned and ridden off somewhere on some personal business—at least that was the situation as he had interpreted it.
“If it hadn’t been for Slaughter’s actions, I would have suffered a great many more casualties in that canyon,” LeVan insisted. “It’s true, he left the patrol, but he went in search of another scout—Brister was his name. You remember, you hired him on with Slaughter. I really couldn’t blame him for leaving the patrol. He and Brister were close friends. Besides, the fight was over and we were heading back by that time.”
“All right, then,” Boyd conceded. “Sounds like you know your man.”
“Thank you, sir,” LeVan replied, and immediately sent Sergeant Barnes to find Matt. The lieutenant didn’t expect to encounter any trouble on the patrol. The murders that had taken place were far too old to even think about pursuing the guilty parties. The entire action was little more than a show of respect to the unfortunate young lady who had lost her family. LeVan suspected that Major Evans preferred not to have any hostile contact with the Sioux just now, on the very eve of scheduled peace talks. His hunch was confirmed by Captain Boyd’s parting remarks.
“Fred, Major Evans was clear in his instructions as to the purpose of this patrol. Find the unfortunate victims and give them a decent burial. If you make contact with the hostiles, take whatever action you see fit, but don’t go probing deep into Sioux country.”
* * *
Sergeant Barnes found Matt in the post trader’s store, kibitzing with Cooter Martin while the old man bargained with Seth Ward for supplies. “I don’t do much tradin’ for fur,” he heard Seth telling Cooter. “It’s hard for me to turn ’em into cash.”
“These is all prime,” Cooter protested. “You ought’n have no trouble a’tall sellin’ them back east.”
“Don’t let him cheat you, mister,” Barnes blurted playfully as he walked in the door. “He’ll sell ’em for three times what they’re worth.”
All three men turned to acknowledge the sergeant. “I wish that was true,” Seth replied. “I’m just tryin’ to be honest about it. Fur ain’t as valuable as it used to be, is all I’m sayin’. I’ll do the best I can for you, but I can’t take no loss on the deal.”
While Cooter and Seth continued to bargain, Sergeant Barnes turned to direct his remarks to Matt. “Well, Slaughter, looks like you got back with all your hair.”
“I reckon,” Matt said, smiling.
“Did you find Brister?” He didn’t have to ask if the big scout was dead. He had already heard that Ike wasn’t with Slaughter when he returned.
“I did,” Matt replied softly.
“Well, I’m right sorry about the big fellow. I know he was a friend of yours.” He shook his head sympathetically, then abruptly changed the subject. “Lieutenant LeVan sent me to fetch you. He wants to talk to you.”
“What about?” Matt asked.
“About scoutin’ for him. We’re goin’ out on patrol tomorrow—goin’ to investigate the murder of that girl’s folks—the one you rode in with.”
Matt was surprised. “I figured when I quit up on the Powder that it would be the end of my scoutin’ for the army.”
“Naw,” Barnes replied. “Hell, the lieutenant understands why you left the patrol. Anyway, he asked Captain Boyd specifically for you.”
Matt thought about it for only a moment before accepting. “I’ve still got some unfinished business to take care of, but I can sure use the money.”
That settled, Barnes turned his attention back to the bartering going on at the counter. “I reckon you’d be Cooter Martin,” he said to the old man. “I’ve heard tell of you, but I wasn’t sure you were real, so I came to see for myself.”
Cooter paused long enough to cock a wary eye at the sergeant, not sure if he was being japed or not. “I’m Nathaniel Martin,” he said. “I reckon I’m real enough.” Turning his gaze back to Seth, he added, “But I don’t reckon I’m worth a whole helluva lot.”
“I’m trying to do right by you,” Seth protested.
They all stood by while the trade was concluded. Then Matt and the sergeant helped Cooter carry his supplies out to load on his mule. “You seem to be in a hurry to leave,” Matt commented as he watched the old man tie his packs.
“I been here too long already,” Cooter replied. “I can already feel my skin startin’ to itch, being around all these dang soldiers.” He glanced at Barnes as if about to except him, but said nothing. Turning back to Matt, he said, “I’d like to buy me one of them fancy Henrys like you carry, but I couldn’t afford to buy the cartridges for it.” Ready to leave then, he reached out to shake Matt’s hand. “You watch yourself, young feller. The Injuns is already gettin’ to know you and that spirit gun of your’n. Igmutaka, that’s what they’re callin’ you. Mountain lion. You’ve already sent a few of Iron Claw’s boys to hunt with the spirits. It’d be big medicine for the man that kills you.”
“I’ll be careful,” Matt said. “You’d best watch yourself as well.”
“I always do,” Cooter replied. He looked around then as if searching for someone. “Where’s that Crow you was ridin’ with?”
“Red Hawk’s gone up to the Crow camp to see his family,” Matt answered.
Cooter winked as he said, “Tell him he ain’t a bad feller in spite of bein’ a damn Crow.”
“I’ll tell him,” Matt said. “You watch your topknot.”
The old man nodded, and climbed aboard his mule. Without another glance in their direction, he gave the mule a kick with his heels and started back toward Powder River country. Matt stood for a few moments watching him depart, then followed Sergeant Barnes back to report to Lieutenant LeVan.
* * *
“Molly,” Martha Riddler called, “there’s a young man here to see you.”
Molly appeared at the door a few moments later, a dish towel in her hand. Martha stepped back to let her come out on the porch. She did not miss the glimmer of excitement in the girl’s eye when she saw Matt.
Matt reached up quickly and pulled his hat from his head. “I just thought I’d drop by to see how you were makin’ out,” he said.
She smiled shyly and nodded. Martha spoke for her. “She’s doing just grand. Aren’t you, honey?” Molly smiled broadly then and, looking at the doctor’s wife, nodded again. “We’ve just cleaned up the supper dishes, or I’d invite you to sit down with us,” Martha said. “There may be some coffee left in the pot, if you’d care for a cup.”
“Oh, no, ma’am,” Matt quickly replied. “I don’t wanna intrude. I just dropped by to tell Molly I won’t be by for a few days.” He turned his full attention upon Molly then. “Looks like I’m goin’ back to work for the army. I’m goin’ out on a patrol with Lieutenant LeVan in the mornin’—should be back in a week or so.”
Molly responded with a sl
ight frown, but then quickly recovered to force a smile. Remembering her lessons while on the trail, she made the sign for Red Hawk, accompanied with a questioning look. Matt understood.
“Red Hawk’s visiting his people,” he said. “He ain’t goin’ on this one with me.”
Martha tilted her head in mock surprise. “My goodness,” she said, laughing, “you’ve turned this child into an Indian.”
“That’s Red Hawk’s doin’,” Matt replied. “I don’t know much more sign than she does.” He turned to gaze at Molly for a long moment, feeling self-conscious about the sudden silence. Finally, unable to think of anything else to say, he blurted, “Anyway, I just wanted to see you before I go.”
Molly could only gaze into his eyes until he glanced away to look at Martha again. “I’m beholdin’ to you, Mrs. Riddler, for takin’ care of Molly. She’s kinda special to me.” As soon as the words left his lips, he wished he could recall them. Why the hell did I say that? he thought. He glanced quickly at Molly in time to see her eyes grow wide with surprise. “Well, I’d best be goin’,” he mumbled, and turned on his heel. He could feel both women’s eyes on his back as he strode away.
* * *
“Well, I guess we can bury what’s left of them,” Lieutenant LeVan said. “The buzzards didn’t leave much.” He stood over the remains of Libby Donovan Lyons, her dress tattered and torn, evidence of the buzzards’ greedy banquet, her bones already starting to bleach in the summer sun. One side of her skull was crushed. He could only speculate as to whether that blow was what killed her, or the shattered breastbone that indicated a bullet hole. Several yards away lay the remains of Franklin Lyons. A neat hole in the middle of his skull bore evidence of his execution. “He must not have even known it was coming,” LeVan speculated. He looked around for Sergeant Barnes. “Sergeant, let’s get a grave dug—might as well put them both in the same hole.”
The Hostile Trail Page 12