Antebellum BK 1

by Jeffry S. Hepple

  “We’ll be ready,” Bob number two said.

  June 30, 1855

  Jackson’s Hole, Oregon or Nebraska Territory

  Jack looked up from the map at the faces surrounding him. “The land features match the descriptions in Colter’s journals.”

  “Whose journal?” Texas Bob asked.

  “John Colter. He was the member of the Lewis and Clark Expedition that discovered this area.” He pointed. “That mountain range must be the Tetons.”

  “That means titties,” Clementine giggled. “Did you know that?”

  Jack ignored her. “Colter came here in 1806 through Togwotee Pass which must be that cleft there.” He pointed again. “People have always thought that Colter exaggerated the beauty of this place. Now we can see that he didn’t.” He looked at all the hairy-faced men. “Some of the Indian bands that we’ll come across up here will have never seen a white person before. A few will have had bad experiences and consider us their enemies. We must stay vigilant and try not to make any new enemies by being too quick to pull a trigger or end up dead by being too slow.” He began folding the map. “This ground along the river is very boggy. I suggest that we camp here and send out some scouts to find a firmer path, suitable for the wagons.”

  “We’ll go,” Bob Longstreet said.

  “Coyote and I will join you,” Jack said.

  “And me,” Clementine added.

  Jack knew better than to argue with her and simply nodded.

  ~

  “I’ve never seen flowers like these,” Clementine said, turning in her saddle to observe the display of colors in the grass.

  “Stop looking at the flowers and watch the ridges,” Jack grumbled.

  “We are being followed.” Coyote pointed to a line of trees. “Six or eight riders.”

  Jack looked but could see nothing. “How do you know?”

  “They frighten the birds. The birds fly until the riders have passed, then they land again.”

  “Clever,” Jack said. “Can you tell what tribe they’re from by how high the birds fly?”

  “Does it matter?” Coyote asked, ignoring the sarcasm.

  “If we knew their tribe, we’d know if we should open fire or let them approach.” Jack checked his rifle.

  “Whoever they are they know we have firearms,” Coyote said. “It will take courage to attack us. If they come at us shouting war cries, we should shoot.”

  “Unless they know what you know.” Jack turned in the saddle to look behind them, and then he looked back at the trees. “They’ll be within rifle range when they come out of the trees, but we’ll be beyond the range of bows and lances. We’ll need to decide fast.”

  “Do you see the two Bobs?” Clementine asked nervously.

  Neither Jack nor Coyote answered her. Their attention was on the column of Indians that was appearing from behind the tree line on the ridge.

  “Can you identify them?” Jack asked.

  “Dakota,” Coyote said. “I will go talk to them.” Before Jack could respond, the boy had kicked his horse into a trot.

  ~

  Jack, Clementine, the two Bobs and Coyote were dismounted while the Sioux scouting party waited on the ridge above them.

  Clementine folded her arms. “I’m not going.”

  Jack looked helplessly toward the Indians on the high ground. “They’re not going to understand why we’d listen to a woman. Think of some other excuse to decline.”

  “We cannot say no to an invitation to visit their camp,” Coyote insisted.

  “If y’all want, we could watch after your missus, Colonel,” Texas Jack offered.

  Jack shook his head. “Coyote will have to go alone.”

  “How am I going to explain that?” Coyote asked. “They will see it as an insult if our leader refuses their invitation.”

  “I’ll be okay with the two Bobs,” Clementine insisted.

  Jack looked at the two grizzled men and considered threatening their lives, then decided it might do more harm than good. “Okay. We’ll meet the headman, pay our respects and be back in camp before dark.”

  “I don’t think so,” Coyote said. “They had a successful hunt today. There will be dancing and celebrating until dawn.”

  “Well then I’m not going,” Jack said.

  “Don’t be silly,” Clementine replied. “I’ll be fine. None of the buffalo hunters has ever been anything but polite to me.”

  Jack blew out his cheeks in frustration, then nodded. “Okay. I guess we don’t have any other choice.”

  ~

  “What was in that pipe we smoked last night?” Jack asked as they rode down the valley toward their wagons.

  “Tobacco and dried mushroom,” Coyote answered. “My head feels heavy from it.”

  “My stomach is so upset that I can’t feel my head. Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

  “Yes.” Coyote pointed. “There are the wagons.”

  “Nobody’s there,” Jack said in alarm.

  “There’s a campfire. To the right. In that clearing.”

  Jack saw the smudge of smoke against the pale dawn sky. “I wonder why they moved away from the wagons to set up camp?” He nudged his horse with his heels and started down the hill toward the fire.

  “There’s only one,” Coyote said.

  “One what?”

  “One person at the campfire.”

  Jack stood up in the stirrups. “You’re right. It’s Clementine. I guess she decided she didn’t want to camp with the men.”

  “Camping alone is foolish. Aside from the men, there are bears here. Big bears. Taller than any man.”

  “She’s got my Navy Colt. I think it would stop a bear.”

  Coyote was looking toward the three wagons.

  “What?” Jack turned too.

  “Crows.”

  “Indians?”

  “No, birds.”

  “So what?”

  “Crows are scavengers. They flock to dead carcasses.”

  “Come on.” Jack kicked his horse into a run.

  Clementine was frying bacon when Jack and Coyote rode in. “Just in time,” she said.

  Jack swung down and tied his horse to a pine. “Where are the buffalo hunters?”

  “Dead,” she said. “I shot ‘em.”

  “Go see,” Jack said to Coyote.

  The boy wheeled his horse and rode out.

  “I guarantee that they’re dead,” Clementine said. “I put two bullets into each of ‘em from close range.”

  “Why?”

  “They raped me.”

  Jack’s mouth fell open.

  “They started passing a jug of moonshine around about the time that the two Bobs and I got back to camp. At first the two Bobs stayed sober but…” She looked up. “Maybe you don’t want to hear this.”

  Jack crouched beside her. “Only if it makes you feel better to tell it.”

  She considered that for a moment, then shook her head. “I’d rather not talk about it, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Just tell me how you managed to best eight armed men.”

  “I waited until they were asleep and I shot them two at a time with a six-shooter in each hand. Old Henry was the only one that got a shot off at me. Luckily he was still drunk as a skunk and missed. I think I gave him an extra bullet for scaring me.”

  “Are you okay? I mean, did they hurt you?”

  She looked at him for a moment. “I’ve been raped before, Jack. I learned that fighting just gets you beat up. I didn’t fight and they didn’t hurt me. I took a short bath in the river last night, then this morning I heated some water and took a long one. In a day or two the soreness and bruises’ll be gone and I’ll be good as new.”

  He put his arms around her. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said into his chest. “And now it’s over.”

  Jack looked up as Coyote rode in. “Well?”

  “All dead. Did she do it?”

&
nbsp; “Yes.” Jack nodded.

  “Want me to bury them?”

  “No. Pour coal oil over them and burn them where they are. Their wagons and gear too.”

  “Every Indian in the territory will come to see what the fire is about,” Coyote argued.

  “Good. Maybe we’ll find your people.”

  “Have some bacon first,” Clementine said, pulling away from Jack. “I started to make biscuits but forgot what I was doing.”

  “I am not hungry.” Coyote turned his horse and rode back out.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Clementine asked.

  Jack started to answer but changed his mind.

  ~

  Clementine had climbed into the wagon at sundown and was fast asleep. Jack and Coyote were sitting near the dying camp fire.

  “You should come north with me and the Dakota hunters,” Coyote whispered.

  “Why?”

  “If you go back now, people will ask what happened to the buffalo hunters. If you stay up here for a season or two, people will forget.”

  Jack looked up at the stars. “I wouldn’t mind, but living like this is hard for a woman.”

  Coyote glanced toward the wagon. “That woman is harder than most men.”

  “Let me think about it.”

  “The country up there in the Black Hills is beautiful. You should see it.”

  “I still haven’t seen the geysers and lakes here.”

  “We can see them on our way north.”

  “I’m worried about the winter.”

  “The people have survived winters since time began.”

  “All right. We’ll go with you if the Dakota agree.”

  “They will. They think your woman has powerful magic.”

  “Yeah. Me too.”

  August 14, 1855

  New York, New York

  Nancy Vreeland watched the lamplighter through the window until he was out of sight. “This isn’t my home anymore, Mother. Sell it.”

  “It never was your home,” her mother replied. “You always preferred to live across the Bay with the Van Buskirks.”

  Nancy turned to face her. “Do you really want to discuss that, Mother?”

  “There was nothing I could do,” Mrs. Vreeland said in a pained voice.

  “Horseshit.” Nancy walked to the loveseat across from her mother’s chair and sat down. “I believed that once, but I don’t any more. You used me.”

  “Think what you like,” her mother snapped. “The house is yours if you want it. It’s worth a great deal of money.”

  “I don’t want the house or the money.” Nancy stood up. “Good bye, Mother.”

  “Will you at least go up and talk to your father before you go?”

  “He’s your husband, not my father.”

  “Nancy, please. He’s dying.”

  “Good. I hope he does so slowly and then rots in hell for all eternity.” She walked from the parlor into the hall to retrieve her coat. “You can tell him that for me.”

  “My Lord, you’re cruel.”

  “Yeah. That’s me.” Nancy put on her coat, walked out and closed the door.

  Anna was waiting for her under a streetlight on the corner. “How’d it go?”

  “About as you’d expect.” Nancy turned up her coat collar and stuffed her hands into her coat pockets.

  “Did you see him?”

  “No.”

  “What did your mother say?”

  “She said that I’m cruel.”

  “That’s all?”

  “She said that he was leaving the house to me. I told her to sell it and keep the money.”

  Anna put her arm through Nancy’s and they started walking back toward the ferry. “I’m sorry.”

  “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Yes,” Anna said. “I got a telegram from the detectives that I hired to find Jack and Clementine. They say that Jack and Clementine are alive and well, living with a tribe of Sioux Indians up near the Canadian border.”

  “That’s good news. Why aren’t you happy?”

  “There’s a warrant out for Clementine’s arrest.”

  “Is there a law against being a slut?”

  “She’s wanted for murder,” Anna said. “A prospector says that she killed several buffalo hunters in cold blood. He says he witnessed the whole thing and showed a US Marshal their bones.”

  “Jesus. Poor Jack.”

  “Yes. I guess he’s living with the Indians to protect her.”

  “If that’s true, when they charge her they’ll charge him as an accessory.”

  “With all the lawyers in this family we can surely beat that.”

  “I’m not as confident as you are that your family lawyers can beat the Federal Government at trial. But if Jack comes in voluntarily, the government will drop the accessory charges. Can you send the detective to warn Jack?”

  “I doubt they’ll agree. But I’ll try to get a message to him somehow, if the Pinkertons won’t take it.”

  “Living with filthy Indians.” Nancy shuddered. “I can’t imagine.”

  Anna squeezed Nancy’s arm. “I’m half Indian and so are my brothers.”

  Nancy blushed. “I forgot.”

  September 1, 1855

  West Point, New York

  Fitzhugh Lee shook Johnny’s hand and thumped him on the back. “Here we are at last. Upperclassmen. It’s time to pay back some of those insults we’ve had to endure.”

  “We’ll be paying back the wrong people,” Johnny replied, in a much less enthusiastic tone. “The cadets that tormented us are lieutenants now.”

  Lee released his grip on Johnny’s right hand and dropped his arm. “I gather your summer was less than you anticipated.”

  Johnny shrugged.

  “Did she throw you over when you got to Ohio?”

  “On the contrary. When I got off the train in Columbus she was waiting as promised.”

  “And?”

  “And she announced that she was pregnant and that we must get married immediately.”

  “Pregnant?” Lee was stunned. “You hadn’t seen her since Easter and you swore to me that nothing happened.”

  “She missed her monthly twice and thought… Never mind. She’s very naïve but wasn’t pregnant.”

  “So you set her straight.”

  “No. That is, I agreed to marry her, but Aunt Anna interceded.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Maybe. I just don’t know.”

  “What is there to know? If you’d married her you’d have been ineligible to return here.”

  “I have a feeling that by next summer, when we graduate, she’ll be gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “Elsewhere. I don’t know.” He looked earnestly at his friend. “You should see her, Fitz. She’s even more stunning than she was last spring. Men stumble over their own feet when she walks by. By the time we graduate, she’ll have so many suitors that she’ll have forgotten me all together.”

  “If that’s true it’s best that you discover it before you’re married. Ask your Uncle Jack about that.”

  “What’s this about my Uncle Jack?”

  “His wife has been seen keeping company with other men.”

  “Fitz.” There was a warning tone in Johnny’s voice.

  “I swear that it’s true.” He raised his right hand. “I heard it from several officers who rotated from California. They say she haunted the hotel bars when your uncle was away. I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t absolutely sure that it’s true.”

  “Damn. I’ve heard nothing about it from the family.”

  “If they know, it’s not the kind of thing that families discuss.”

  “Aunt Anna and Nancy are never reluctant to discuss anything, regardless of its prurient nature.”

  “Oh. I saw your Aunt Nancy in Richmond, by the way. She is still a strikingly handsome woman.”

  “Yes she is,” Johnny replied absently. “But on her brightest day
she didn’t hold a candle to Kate Chase.”

  “You, sir, have a one-track mind.”

  September 13, 1855

  Fort Laramie, Nebraska Territory

  A tall man wearing a badge was waiting for them as their wagon pulled in through the gate. “Colonel Van Buskirk?” He shouted.

  Jack reined in the horses and set the brake. “Yes?”

  “I’m Rodger Colter, Deputy U.S. Marshal.” He showed Jack his identification.

  Jack tied the reins to the brake. “What can I do for you, Deputy?”

  “Can you tell me the whereabouts of eight men, buffalo hunters by trade, who left Fort Bridger in your company on or around the day of eleven June of this year?”

  “Yes I can.” Jack jumped down and held up his hands for Clementine. “Those men are dead.”

  “Where did they die?”

  “Near Jackson’s Hole, on the Snake River.”

  “When did they die?”

  “Soon after we got there.”

  “Do you know the cause of death?”

  “Not definitely.” Jack set Clementine on her feet and brushed the dust off his trousers with his hat. “But they were all shot. Without benefit of a post-mortem I would guess they died from those wounds.”

  “What was the disposition of the bodies?” The deputy was looking at Clementine who was busy fixing her hair.

  “Cremated,” Jack said.

  “Any particular reason for that?” Colter turned back toward Jack. “Rather than burial, I mean?”

  “The geography where they were killed was a flood plain that submerged under water regularly during heavy rains,” Jack replied. “The bodies would have been washed out of their graves.”

  “You had their wagons and teams. Why not just take the corpses to a more suitable location?”

  “Other than a boy and my wife, I was alone. Cremation seemed the best solution. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Jack started toward the Western Union office.

  “I’m not finished.” The deputy caught Jack by the arm.

  “You have two seconds to unhand me.” Jack put his hand on his Colt.

  The deputy let go. “Under Federal Law you’re obligated to cooperate with me or face prosecution. I must also remind you that threatening and lying to a Federal officer are both felonies punishable by up to ten years in prison for each count.”