Uncivilized

by Laura Stapleton

  “Skeeter, hell, I’m taking this back myself. She don’t want no little boy, the way she hugged me.” Jack shook his head. “She ain’t the only one, either. If I weren’t grieving? Heck, all these women are ripe for the picking.”

  Chapter 7

  Del stared out through the bars. He’d not minded sleeping on the bench he now stood on to see outside. The chill and the aches he could shrug off, unlike his need to see Ellen. He’d waited until late last night before falling asleep. Then, at the first rattle, he hoped she’d sneak away to visit him.

  “Du Boise?”

  He turned at the scrape of metal on stone and had to let his eyes adjust to the dark. “Yes?”

  “Stay back. You have a visitor.” The guard held the door open, and Sam stepped into the cell. “Keep it short because I’ve gotta stand here until you’re done talking.” He closed the door with a clang and relocked it, the noise reinforcing his impatience.

  “How are you doing in here?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve slept in worse places.” Del gestured to the window. “I suppose Ellen is too busy to see me.”

  “Have a seat.” Sam sat down, his back against the stone wall. When Del settled in, Sam began, “She won’t have time to come here before we leave.” He shook his head. “Save your arguments. We’re already lagging behind my schedule, and I’m not delaying us another day. You can catch up to us when you get out of here much easier than we could survive spending the winter in the mountains.”

  Del knew he was right. Snowstorms had no schedule, and emigrants caught in them either starved or froze to death. “Practical, yes. Would you still want me to catch up with your group or find my own way?”

  Sam laughed. “You’ll need to join us when you can.” He sobered and glanced at the guard. “It may be a while. The commander told me yesterday he wasn’t sure he believed our story and doesn’t trust Ellen’s testimony.”

  “Oh? He thinks she’d lie?”

  “No. He thinks she’s too besotted by your saving her life.”

  “She doesn’t seem besotted.”

  “She’s still in shock, I think. Overwhelmed too.” Sam stood and got up on the bench to look out as Del had earlier. “Winslow has been drowning his grief, drinking whatever he can buy or trade for. The other ladies in our group have cared for the boys, My men have helped with the two animals they have left.”

  “Now she’s the unofficial leader of her family.”

  “Exactly.”

  “She needs my help. Do you think she’d accept it?”

  He grinned. “If Jack would allow it, I think she’d want whatever you had to give.”

  The idea of her wanting him humbled Del. His face felt hot as he thought of her asking him for anything. “I love her, Sam.”

  “I know. She loves you too.” He hopped down from the bench. “It’s too bad there’s so much in your way. This cell, her father, this last third of the road, and anything could happen.”

  The guard rattled the barred door. “Time’s up, gentlemen. Let’s go.”

  “We’re leaving at mid morning.” Sam stepped out of the room. “I’ll give her your regards.”

  “Please do, and au revoir, mon ame.”

  The guard locked the door as Sam left. “So you got a girl waiting for you out there? It might be longer than you think before you see her again.”

  A metallic taste hit Del’s tongue, as if someone plucked hairs from the back of his neck. “What do you mean?”

  “I gotta go get your breakfast.” He opened the main door, and light flooded into the dank room.

  The door closed again before Del could ask anything else. This felt an awful lot like torture. Not physical pain, but mental kept him pacing as he waited. A hundred different scenarios ran through his mind on what sort of sentence or other punishment the commander might hand down. This continuous incarceration worried him. An innocent man would have been cleared yesterday and free today.

  A scrape as the larger door opened startled him. The guard came in with one of Del’s saddlebags and he frowned. “You have my property?”

  “Only until you take it from me.” The man slid the bag in sideways to him. “I went through your belongings to take out anything that might be a weapon and put them in your other bag.”

  Del opened it to find clothes, a comb, and his journal. He noticed his mother’s beads weren’t in there. Good idea, since they’d make a great strangulation device. “Thank you for bringing this to me.”

  “We’ve had enough attacks from the natives around here that you might not get a fair trial tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? Is there a particular time?”

  “Afternoon is what I heard. I’ll go get your meal since it’s almost midmorning.”

  Del nodded, preoccupied. The delay didn’t bode well for him joining Sam and Ellen before they left. He opened his saddlebag to remove a crisp clean shirt, white, like one of Sam’s, and a pair of new trousers. Peering close, he saw thread holes where something had been snipped off from down the side of each leg. The evidence took him aback. Were these Army issue?

  The guard returned with a cloth bag and a cup. “Here’s fresh bread and bacon cooked this morning. Water too.” He held the items with one hand and unlocked the door. “Step back.”

  “These aren’t my clothes.”

  “No, they’re old ones you’ll need for tomorrow.” He put the meal down on the bench. “I don’t know how much saving that lady’s life will count in your favor tomorrow. Maybe a lot, maybe a little. I figured if you appeared a little more like us, you’d get a lighter sentence.”

  The implication that he’d already been found guilty before any trial angered him. “I don’t deserve any sentence.”

  “I reckon not. Still, one of the women did die and the commander isn’t sure who the killer was.”

  Del began to argue before remembering his audience. He needed to save his facts for tomorrow. “I appreciate your help. If dressing like my father helps prove my innocence, so be it.”

  “Eat. I’ll be right outside until the next shift change.”

  He sat with the food. The bread was heaven and the meat a little salty but still good. He drank deep from the cup, smiling at how they had well water so close to the river. Del considered them such industrious people to be so lazy in their habits. He set aside the cloth and cup, digging out his journal from the saddlebag.

  A few hours later, he finished updating the events. He poured over the facts like this would help with tomorrow’s inquisition. He didn’t want to hesitate or be tricked into saying the wrong thing. Del put everything away just as the door opened. A different guard stepped in, and the smell of dinner came in with him. The lateness of the day surprised him and he stood. “Yes?”

  The man brought over another cup and a bowl with a spoon in it. “Dinner time. Reach through the bars and take it. I’m not taking a chance on an Indian trick.”

  The dishes fit through the bars. Del did as asked, taking the meal given. “Merci beaucoup.” The confused expression on the man gratified Del’s soul and he continued in English, “This smells wonderful. My compliments to the chef.”

  “Um, yeah, sure.” The man stepped backwards a little bit before leaving the jail proper.

  Del snickered while breathing in the soup’s aroma. It was probably too much to hope the soldier had learned anything from their exchange. Many of his mother’s people spoke more French than English, thanks to the French trappers. He’d judged correctly that his current guard was from the east, maybe south, and only knew his own language.

  Lunch didn’t take him long. He placed everything outside the bars and settled in again to work on a defense. Del eyed the clothes sitting on the bench beside him. He stared for a while, resisting what he knew he needed to do if he ever wanted to see Ellen again.

  The next day, Del stood when the outer jail door opened. He let go his pent up breath when the same guard from yesterday morning appeared. The soldier might be able to help him with
one last task.

  “Look at you. Except for those braids, I’d take you for white.”

  “That’s exactly why I need your knife.” He held up both braids. “I want to cut these off so the case goes in my favor.”

  “My knife? I can’t just hand it over to you.”

  “Slide it over on the floor and I’ll slide it back when finished.”

  His guard paused for a moment before taking the weapon from its holder. He did as Del instructed and it slid over to him. Del made quick work of hacking off both braids just below his ears. He ran a hand through the strands to test the feel and length. His hair was long in front, short in the back. Giving an unconscious nod of acceptance, he slid the knife back to its owner. The guard took it, his jaw still slack. “Does this look acceptable?” Del asked.

  “Yeah, you look like one of my cousins.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, sir.”

  “I meant it as one. Let’s go, then.” The guard sheathed his knife and unlocked the barred door. The hinges squeaked. “I wonder if I should tie you up. At least bind your hands.”

  “You could.” Del looked around him in a deliberate way, nodding at each of the fort’s walls. “Or, you could know you’re safe from me in here.”

  The guard chuckled. “I know I am. What I don’t know is how fast you can run.”

  Del followed him out into the blinding sunlight. “Faster than you, certainly. But faster than the US Army? No.”

  He laughed outright, slowing to keep Del in sight. “You’re a smart man, even for an Indian.” A scowl from Del and he chuckled. “C’mon. Don’t let me get your dander up. Expect the commander to say worse.”

  They walked alongside the various buildings inside the fort’s walls. He didn’t know the purpose of each one, just saw how every one was a hub of activity. More than a few times, he and the other man had to pause to let someone cross in front of them. He noticed no one gave him a second glance and knew his plan to pass as white had worked. Some of these sun baked men were darker than him, even with their light hair and blue eyes.

  “Quite frankly, I don’t have time for you.” The fort’s commander sat back in his chair. “My first inclination is to toss you off a cliff and into the river, but that’s rather lawless and selfish on my part. So tell me, why should I let you go free?”

  The commander wanted to be a tough nut, Del thought. He narrowed his eyes, embracing the challenge. “Miss Winslow is with her family even as we speak. That should be worth something to you. If I hadn’t intervened, she’d be Pointed Nose’s wife.”

  “You managed to bring her back here without them marking her face?”

  Del nodded. “Yes. I reached her in time and claimed her as my woman. They agreed to let me have her and allowed us to leave.”

  “Just like that? Why do I think there’s more to the story?”

  The honest part of him wouldn’t leave Del alone. He was terrible at lying to others. It was exactly why he didn’t work as a lawyer defending criminals. “They wouldn’t let me take her unless we were married. We went through the ceremony, and now the Shoshone think she’s mine.”

  “Oh? They think so, hmm? The marriage isn’t legal.”

  “Yes. We’re not married in any true sense of the word, except among the Shoshone.”

  “Speaking of them, let’s discuss their plans. We’ve had several skirmishes around here, horses stolen, mostly, but no killings within a day’s ride. I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Of course, sir. The group I rescued Miss Winslow from is generally peaceful. They don’t want to fight.”

  “And yet, they abduct one white woman and kill another, assuming they did it and not you.”

  Del sensed he was being verbally backed onto a cliff. He stared down the commander. “Let me be clear. Mrs. Winslow was dead when I found her. Ellen was gone.” He realized his mistake when the other man’s eyebrows rose. “I went to find Miss Winslow.”

  “All right. Let me assume you’re the hero. Tell me what I should do to them for the murder and kidnapping.”

  He stared at the map on the wall behind the commander. He agreed there should be justice for Lucy’s murder. He just wasn’t sure war was the answer. All the deaths on both sides wouldn’t bring back Mrs. Winslow. He narrowed his eyes, looking at the man across from him. “There is no way of knowing who actually killed her, sir. Three men went to get Miss Winslow, and Mrs. Winslow’s death wasn’t planned.” Before the commander could speak, Del added, “Not that her murder is excused, but right now, you’d have to kill everyone in the village to make sure you punished the killer. Are you sure one death is worth starting a war?”

  The commander laughed. “We’ve fought for lesser reasons.” He stood. “You’re right, much as I hate to admit it. This is the first problem we’ve ever had with tribes to the east. They leave us alone, and we leave them alone.” He came around to sit on his desk. “The western natives keep us busy enough. You’re free to go, but you might let the word get out: One more incident like this from Pointed Nose and we’ll strike back hard. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll tell my people.”

  “You clean up really well. I’d have taken you for white at first glance. Good tactic.” At Del’s surprise, he laughed and continued, “Yes, I knew what you were doing. I may be distracted, but I’m not stupid. Your actions in saving Miss Winslow have been noted and commended. Leave whenever you choose.”

  Del had trouble believing the decision. Still, he didn’t want to hang around and argue. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be able to take my horse?”

  The commander didn’t look up from the paper he read. “What? Of course you may. You’re an innocent hero. Take your things and horse. Be sure to stop by the mess hall and get some dinner and a little extra. Consider it your reward.”

  He gave a curt nod and left the room with his former guard following. Del walked out in a measured way, slow in case someone needed one last thing from him.

  “Congratulations, Mr. Du Boise,” the guard said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Let’s go get your saddlebag from the jailhouse first. Then I’ll take you to mess hall per the Commander’s orders.”

  He didn’t need to be reminded to hurry as he went into and out of his jail cell for his belongings. “You promised food?”

  “Sure did. Follow me.”

  Del felt like a puppy tagging along. He tried to keep up, but all the activity kept him preoccupied. Soldiers made up the majority of people there. A few plain clothed women walked by or in front of them here and there. He went through the door held open for him.

  The guard went to the counter, asking, “Do we have any grub for a hero?”

  A portly mess sergeant strolled up. “Who’s the hero?”

  “This gentleman right here. He rescued that gal and brought her back day before yesterday.”

  The man wiped his hands on a formerly white apron. “Well, I’ll be. You did a good thing, son.” He turned to the guard. “He understands English?”

  Del snickered. “Not at all, sir. English makes no sense to me.”

  At first surprise then amusement showed on the other man’s face. “You got me there, Hero. What can I do for ya?”

  First the hero talk, now someone wanting to give him food made Del feel shy all of a sudden. He was far more used to giving than receiving. “I suppose whatever you have to spare.” To his own ears he sounded demanding and amended his answer. “I mean, your leftover bread, maybe. Some dried out beef might be good.”

  He nodded. “I got it. Let me go tie you up a sack of goods.” The cook disappeared into a back room.

  The guard shrugged. “No tellin’ how long he’ll be. I’ll go get your horse.”

  He watched the man leave and then looked around the building. The whitewashed walls seemed clean at first look. He didn’t want to examine them to learn otherwise. The wood stove in the middle of the mess hall didn’t radiate heat this time of year, but gusts of heat flowe
d from the kitchen to where he and a few others stood just outside.. Tables lined the walls with benches pushed underneath. He suspected the men’s backs stayed warm in winter while they ate. A bustle at the kitchen door stopped his musing.

  “Here you are, young man.” The cook held up a full cotton bag.

  Del took it, surprised at how heavy it was. “This feels like too much. If you’re sure…?”

  “I am, so go and get out of here before someone changes their mind about you being the good guy.”

  He gave a salute before leaving. Not seeing the guard waiting outside, Del headed toward the stables. He didn’t get far before seeing Pomme being led to him, already saddled. The guard handed over the reins. “He’s been fed already, brushed, had some water.”

  The horse nuzzled Del. “Thank the stable hands for me, please.”

  “Will do. Good luck in catching up to your wagon train.”

  Del swung up on Pomme and nodded at the man. “Thank you and au revoir.” He rode through the open gate, not realizing he’d held his breath until cleared of the fort.

  He gave his horse free rein as long as they headed along the road to Ellen. Pomme could gallop or walk as he wanted. Del steered him to the river whenever the bank allowed easy access. He even ate his meals on horseback. The day eased to a close, and as the sun dipped below the western horizon, he came upon a wide feeder branch of the Snake River. Several others were camped there, nearly all next to their own wagon. He kept to himself, not wanting to intrude or alarm any of the night watch. None of them were of the Granville party anyway.

  Del awoke before anyone else around him. He’d not bothered with a campfire, so he only had blankets to roll up before leaving. The clear creek water called to him, and he stopped so he and his animal could both drink. He had a dinner roll for breakfast, taking a bite of his apple before giving the rest to Pomme. “Voici votre pomme, Pomme,” he said, knowing his horse didn’t appreciate the pun of feeding an apple to a horse named Apple. Both had one last drink before the nine-mile trek to the Falls.