Fort Larned

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Fort Larned Page 7

by Randy D. Smith

"She's young. She'll forget."

  "Does she have any other family?"

  "I don't think so. It's hard to say. John had no family that I know of. Ellen's parents died when she was a child."

  Nell looked at the stars. "I had a child. It was stillborn. She would have been Annie's age if she had lived."

  "You'd want the child?"

  "Who wouldn't? She's beautiful."

  Collier hesitated for a moment. "Nell, when we get out of this thing, I wonder what your plans might be."

  "Go back to Missouri. I've still got a good place there. My family's there."

  "Oh . . . I see."

  She sensed that he was uncomfortable. She knew what was on his mind. She didn't want to put him off, but she had her concerns. "Lane, what if Nathan's still alive? It could present problems."

  "He's not. He was killed back at the river."

  Nell cut her eyes to Collier's face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "Several reasons. He was badly mutilated. I didn't think you needed to see that. I wasn't sure of the Cheyenne. Getting on as quickly as possible seemed best. I didn't know how well you could handle it."

  She held his hand. "There was nothing left between us."

  "I know. I could tell the first time that I met you."

  "Was it that obvious?"

  "No man treats a woman like property if he really loves her. He doesn't need to. There would be more than just possession. There should be trust and comfort. Something like John and Ellen had. He didn't have those feelings. You were just property."

  "I think it could happen between us if you think you could be happy in Missouri."

  He turned to her. "I wasn't planning on staying at Fort Larned much longer. I had heard talk of a new market developing for buffalo. A man could make real money. That's why I bought the Remington. Still, that's no life for a woman."

  She stood and thought. "Why couldn't we do both? I could run the farm. We could work things out. We could do well."

  "It's not that I'm afraid of farming. It's just that I don't know much about it."

  "I know about farming just as you know this country. I would never tie you to a farm. We can make it work." She hesitated. "You're too good a man to lose. I will do my share. If we work together, I know we could find real happiness."

  He kissed her. She returned the kiss and held him closely.

  "I'd be good to you, Nell. I'd never expect you to live out here."

  She relaxed in his arms. "Someday it may be different. I may want to live out here. I'll make a good home for you wherever it may be."

  "I know you will. I'd be lucky to have you."

  They sat for a while, talking and making plans. Finally, he said that she probably needed her rest. It would be a long day and she would need her strength. She went in and prepared for bed. He leaned against the dugout, maintaining guard. After a while, he figured that she was asleep.

  "Lane, aren't you going to rest?"

  He looked into the dugout. She was in her bed.

  "I thought I ought to keep guard."

  She opened the covers of the bed and was beautiful in the half-light of the room. "Come to bed, Lane. I need you with me."

  Collier hesitated then entered the cabin. He went to the bed. "I don't know. I'd not be satisfied with just this."

  She smiled up at him. Her eyes glistened in the moonlight glow of the dugout.

  "Come to bed, Lane."

  Her body felt warm against his. They spent the night in each other's arms.

  CHAPTER XVI

  Collier was awake before dawn. He spent several minutes enjoying Nell's body next to his. When he left the bed, she awoke briefly but returned to sleep at his urging. The dugout was cool and musty in the early morning dawn. Collier found the coffee and started a fire in the iron stove. He remembered the great pride Ellen Fox placed in the stove. As meager a house as it was, it had always been spotlessly clean and a source of pride for her. Collier had to fight his feelings of hatred and the desire for revenge. He had been with General Winfield Hancock the year before and knew the toll of death and destruction that the whites had inflected upon the Indians in that campaign. Collier felt that the bitter memories of Hancock's raids were still with the Cheyenne.

  "An eye for an eye," he mumbled as he watched the fire in the stove.

  He remembered Annie's birth. He had stopped for a visit only to find John Fox working feverishly to prepare for the delivery. He read the birthing book to Fox as the two big, bearded men with hands more suited to shovels, fumbled with the tiny new lady. Ellen had laughed at the two of them trying to wrap a cloth around the infant. They got good and drunk when it was all over.

  The coffee was boiling. He poured himself a cup. He watched the sun breaking the horizon. Nell Baker woke and watched him from her bed.

  "I got some coffee on," he smiled. "You want some?"

  She threw back the covers and stepped from the bed. "Let me wash up and dress first. Then I'll join you."

  Collier was mindful that she was treating him as a husband with no effort at modesty. His life had been one of men, dirt and horses. He felt inadequate, but, she was beautiful and everything that he had ever wanted in a woman. "You called the tune. Now dance to it," he thought as he poured a second cup of coffee.

  She placed her hand on his shoulder as she took the coffee and kissed him. He wanted to take her in his arms but it was not the time.

  She sat next to him and smiled. "You're blushing."

  Collier grinned. "I guess I've not used to such things."

  "Better get used to them, Mr. Collier. I've got a lot of catching up to do. You're the man I intend to do the catching up with."

  "Don't hurt yourself."

  Her eyes gleamed. "Nor you either."

  They were in the middle of their breakfast when Collier heard horses. He grabbed the LeMat and ran for the door.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  "Riders, and they're close," he said as he moved her away from the doorway. "Get Annie and your pistol. Go to the back, away from the door."

  "Are they Indians?"

  "I don't know."

  "Surely they wouldn't come back."

  "I wouldn't think so . . . but . . . you can never be sure."

  As the sounds grew louder, he relaxed. "It's fine. Hear the cups and sabers? By God! It's cavalry!" He waved as Negro cavalry troopers rode into the farm yard.

  Nell kissed Annie and held her high to see the soldiers.

  A thin faced, gray haired white officer with a chin beard and a long mustache brought his horse up to Collier.

  "By God, Bohanin!" Collier said. "You're a sight for sore eyes!"

  Bohanin swung easily from his mount. He was more than six feet tall and rail thin. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "Running, L.J.! Running for my life!" Collier said as they shook hands.

  "Where's the Fox family?" Bohanin asked looking toward the dugout. "They need to pack."

  "They're dead. Massacred by the Cheyenne."

  "I'm sorry to hear that. They were fine folks." He turned toward his men. "Sergeant Crossly! Get those horses fed and watered. Form a skirmish line above the dugout."

  Bohanin cut his eyes to the woman. His face was dark and dirty. The blue of his eyes was a startling contrast. "Who's this woman?" he asked without taking his eyes off her.

  "Nell Baker. She and I are the only survivors of a raid at Sand Point."

  "The escort?"

  "All dead. Wiped out by Cheyenne."

  Bohanin nodded to Nell and tipped his hat as he walked briskly past her. "Let's go into the house. Got any Coffee?"

  Collier winked at Nell as he followed Bohanin through the door.

  Bohanin threw his hat on the table. He was baldheaded, a line across his forehead separating a dark tanned face from a white forehead. He poured a cup of coffee.

  "I can get that for you, sir," Nell said as he gulped the coffee.

  "Get your things together, young lady. We'll be l
eaving presently." He poured another cup. "Good coffee, Collier. You make it?"

  "Yes, I did."

  Bohanin cut his eyes to Nell. "Women make it too weak. Coffee needs to be as black and as hot as possible or it don't do no good. Remember that."

  "Yes, sir, I will." She realized how she had succumbed to his manner.

  Bohanin downed his coffee, picked up his hat, and was on his way out the door. "Get your kit together, Collier. The Cheyenne are right behind us. We're going to run for it."

  Collier grabbed up his hat and rifle, and started packing his saddle bags.

  "Who is that man, Lane?" Nell asked.

  "That man is Lieutenant L.J. Bohanin. The best damned cavalry officer that ever sat a saddle."

  "He seems so old to be just a Lieutenant."

  Collier smiled. "He was Colonel Bohanin during the war. Rose up through the ranks. Told "Fighting" Joe Hooker himself, to go to hell, once." He glanced up at her and said impatiently, "Get your things, Nell. We've got to go!"

  Nell put down Annie and placed her Colt on the table."What things?"

  "Your revolver, your hat and whatever you think you'll need. I'll try to rig something up for Annie."

  Nell pulled her hat on her head. "I'll take care of the baby. You get us some horses."

  Lane nodded and ran out the door.

  She lifted Annie and held her closely. "Come on, honey. It looks like we're in for a ride."

  CHAPTER XVII

  The farmyard was a flurry of dust and noise as the troopers prepared their mounts. Collier ran to Bohanin. "We don't have any horses, L.J."

  "Figured as much," Bohanin said. "We have some empty mounts."

  Collier hadn't noticed. He had been so glad to see the soldiers that he didn't notice how rough looking and tired the soldiers really were.

  "They hit us yesterday afternoon. They got four of my troopers. Probably the same bunch that did everything else. These are murder raids. They're out to do as much damage as possible. We've been on the run from them ever since they hit us. We've been to two other places, the same as this."

  Collier turned to a trooper. "What mounts are free?"

  The trooper, a young man with a bandaged arm, handed Collier the reins of two horses he was watering. "These'll do as good as any."

  Collier led the horses to the dugout. He noticed how thin they looked and tired they acted. They were caked White sweat salt. They had ridden them hard. Collier turned to Bohanin "These horses are played out. How long do you expect them to last?"

  "Till they quit! Hell! What do you want, Collier? I thought you were afoot!"

  Collier felt stupid for having said anything. "What the hell do you want?" he said to himself. "You were afoot."

  Nell walked from the dugout, the Colt revolver with a rawhide thong tied through the trigger guard hanging around her neck. One of John Fox's shirts was tied around her neck and waist, hanging loosely from her front. She handed the Annie to Collier. "Slip the baby, facing me, down the shirt."

  "This is clever, Nell. Nevertheless, don't you think I should take the child?"

  "No, the child is my responsibility. I won't have it any other way."

  Collier pointed to the Colt. "It looks like you've thought of everything." He paused "Except maybe one thing. Can you ride a horse?"

  She grabbed up the reins of her mount and swung easily into the saddle. Once mounted, she reached down and stroked Collier's beard. "I'm a Missouri farm girl with no brothers. I could probably ride before you could."

  Collier smiled. "I wouldn't doubt that one bit."

  A trooper waved his hat from the ridge above the dugout. "Here they come, Lieutenant! They're probably only a couple of miles away!"

  Bohanin sighed heavily and mounted his horse. "Come on down and mount up! We're going!"

  The troopers mounted their horses and formed a column of twos. Bohanin motioned to two older men to follow him. They rode to Nell. Bohanin waved his hat in a broad bowing gesture. "Ma'am, these men are Corporals Carver and Goldsmith. They're good men assigned to your care and protection if you'll accept."

  His gallant gesture flattered Nell. "I thank you, sir. You are most kind."

  A broad smile ranged across his face as he turned his horse to head the column. Collier reined up beside him. Bohanin looked at Collier and then back at the troop. "Mr. Collier, take troopers Quinn and MacAtee and cover our rear. We'll go as long as we can without running the horses. I imagine we'll be on the banks of the Pawnee before we find a suitable place to make a stand."

  Collier understood his order. Quinn and MacAtee were both experienced troopers. Both were veterans of the Civil War with cool heads under pressure. Nell and the two corporals rode up just behind Bohanin in the column. At Bohanin's command, the troop moved out.

  The troopers pulled their rifles and carried them at the ready. Collier was relieved that the weapons were Spencer repeating carbines and not the muzzle loaders that they had issued the infantry. Although only seventeen men were left in the troop, with such rifles, they could generate considerable firepower.

  Bohanin led his troop northeast slowly, making for the Pawnee River. Bohanin did not want to waste the horses' strength. When the time came for a running fight, the animals would need every ounce of strength. Bohanin knew that his force was too small to make a stand in the open. Only a river or a pond with a source of fresh water would be acceptable for a determined stand.

  Collier felt his mount stumble, usually a sign of an exhausted animal. All of the mounts carried their heads low and in spite of just being fed and watered, each was gaunt and drawn. The troop had been out for ten days, the limit of cavalry patrols. Each man concentrated on the condition of his mount and looking for Cheyenne.

  After an hour's riding, Bohanin ordered his troop to foot. Corporal Carver and Goldsmith spelled Nell carrying Annie. One hour mounted and two hours on foot became the pattern. It was mid-afternoon when the Cheyenne showed themselves. They split into two groups and were paralleling the troop on both sides carefully staying out of rifle range.

  Bohanin halted the column and ordered a remount. He ordered the troop to close ranks. Corporal Goldsmith helped Nell secure Annie into the shirt.

  "What do you think will happen?" she asked.

  "Don't rightly know, ma'am. They may just trail us for a while. The Lieutenant will try to get as far as possible without a fight. If them Injuns attack, we'll run for it. Try to make a stand if we can find a good place." He paused. "We'll watch out for you and the young'un. You just do what I tell you and we'll make out."

  Nell embraced the child gently and gave a half-hearted smile. "I know, corporal. It's just the not-knowing that has me concerned."

  He returned her smile. Tobacco juice stains covered his teeth. "I know, missy, I've been doing this for fifteen years and the not-knowing is the worst part."

  Nell wished Lane was with her. She turned in her saddle and looked for him. He was still at the back of the column. He was watching to the northwest as the string of Indians closed in.

  Elk Heart was riding his finest war pony, a large white stallion with a flowing mane and tail. His war bonnet of eagle feathers trailed down his back and gathered at the stallion's rump. He had put on his war paint carefully. He knew Bohanin's plan. They were playing a waiting game and were not going to be drawn into a stand on the open prairie. He had lost the element of surprise. To fight now meant many braves would die. There was much weeping of the women and children in their tipis.

  Perhaps if the whites were hurt badly enough, they would keep their word and respect the treaties. Always the whites wanted more. He had argued this in the council. He would wait no longer. Dying in battle was better than cowering in a tipi as many had done before Hancock's raids. They would reduce what advantage he had in numbers the longer that he waited. They had sung the death song. It was the critical moment. Elk Heart lowered his coup stick to his pony's ears. His war cry was strong and brave. The warriors broke into a charge.

&
nbsp; CHAPTER XVIII

  Bohanin turned in his saddle. "Here they come!" He watched the determined, desperate faces of his men. He calmly drew his revolver and raised it into the air. "All right, then . . . Let's go!"

  The column broke for the river. The firing was sporadic, neither side wanting to waste ammunition at long range from the backs of running horses. As the distance closed the firing increased. Collier, Quinn and MacAtee held the rear as the Cheyenne closed in and the troop spread out. Collier fired his Remington and sent a Cheyenne's mount to the ground. He drew the LeMat Revolver. The Cheyenne and cavalry exchanged gun fire, but the galling effect of the troopers' Spencers forced the braves to rein up and fall away. Gathering just behind the troops, the Indians followed.

 

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