Strongheart

by Don Bendell

  The slim cowboy, now smiling, said, “Naw, sir. I thank you. I just had ta push a herd a cattle with him, and he rode everybody hard all day and night. Good riddance.”

  Joshua nodded and returned to his seat while all stared. He leaned back, pulled his hat over his eyes, and grinned to himself at his antics. Within a minute though, exhausted, he slipped off again.

  A hand grasped his shoulder, and he came out of his seat like his tail was on fire; he heard his gun cocking before he even had his eyes focused, and it was pointing between the eyes of the blonde, who stared in shock, while several in the car screamed. As quickly as he’d cocked it, he uncocked and holstered the Colt.

  Joshua heard a man saying to another, “Did you see that speed?”

  “I’ll say, pard.”

  Joshua said, “I am sorry, ma’am. After what happened I guess I was jumpy.”

  She said softly, “I should have known better. May I sit next to you?”

  He let her in, and she sat down by the window.

  Joshua whispered, “Ma’am, I’m afraid I ...”

  She interrupted, offering her hand. “I’m Scarlett Johnson.”

  He kissed the back of her hand and saw her breath catch.

  “Name is Joshua, Scarlett, Joshua Strongheart.”

  She smiled and cooed, “I know I was being awfully forward just now, but after what happened, I just wanted you to know not everyone thinks like that man.”

  Joshua smiled. “I know, ma’am. There are idiots among the Lakota lodges, too.”

  “Lakota?”

  “The Sioux,” he said. Then he leaned back and added, “If you will forgive me, I have got to catch up on sleep.”

  “Please do,” she whispered. “I just will feel much safer sitting next to you.”

  He smiled and pulled the hat down again.

  Scarlett spent much of the next five hours glancing at Joshua Strongheart in deep slumber. She wished she could lay her head on that massive chest.

  As tired as he was, Joshua thought about how pretty she was and the obvious curves that could not be hidden under her dress. Then he thought about the woman who visited him in the jail and his first reaction to her beauty. He remembered going fishing with Dan as a little boy and learning how to tease a fish with the bait until it would bite. Dan essentially forced the bait toward one fish, and Joshua watched it back away. He thought to himself now that relationships worked the same way. He grinned slightly, and the blonde saw this and wondered if he might be dreaming about her.

  Unfortunately for her, when the train pulled in at the station in California, Joshua got off, doffing his hat and smiling as he went. That was all she would ever get of any kind of relationship with Joshua Strongheart. She was not the only woman who’d longed for him like that, but he usually did not even notice.

  It took several days of hard riding, but eventually Joshua, now feeling exhausted but much healthier, found himself riding into a military stronghold in Oregon. He got plenty of stares with his copper skin, long black hair, and black flat-brimmed, round-capped hat with the wide beaded hatband, common headgear for Indians wearing white man’s garments. The Modocs had beaten up the army pretty well in their labyrinth of volcanic caves and crevasses, and cost the government much embarrassment.

  Strongheart was there to see Major General Jefferson C. Davis, who had been the commander of the Department of Alaska for three or four years and was considered to be very “hard-core” in his attitude and temperament. This started in the Civil War. Davis originally enlisted as a lieutenant in the artillery, but he proved to be tough and enthusiastic and was quickly promoted up through the ranks. Then, after commanding the Indiana Twenty-second Infantry as a colonel in 1861, he was promoted to brigadier general of volunteers and commanded the Third Division Army of the Southwest at the Battle of Pea Ridge.

  Next, he commanded the Fourth Division Army of Mississippi at Corinth. He got very sick, actually going on sick leave, but got out of his sickbed to rejoin his forces to defend Cincinnati from Confederate attack.

  In Louisville, Kentucky, at the Galt House, his career almost ended when he got into an argument with a superior officer, Major General Bull Nelson, who ended up slapping Davis across the face with his gloves, so Jefferson Davis yanked out his pistol and shot the general dead. He was arrested and jailed.

  Luckily, the Union Army needed general officers with combat experience, and his good friend Major General Horatio Wright intervened on his behalf, and he was released. He was later acquitted.

  He ended up sometime later as the overall commander of the Department of Alaska and then in 1873 found himself in Oregon in charge of the Modoc War fiasco. He was tired of waiting for his dispatch and was about ready to execute Captain Jack and his leaders, but he had been told the dispatch was on its way, being hand-delivered. His guards had been told to watch for a cavalry contingent arriving at any time.

  Instead, they saw a lone half-breed Indian, Joshua Strongheart. Joshua continued to get stares, and one in particular came from Rowdy McAvoy. Born in Scotland, Rowdy was a brawler and a boozer, and also a sergeant, but he had been a sergeant and a private an equal number of times. He was frequently in the guardhouse for fighting and other drink-related activities. He could see by Joshua’s demeanor, the way he sat his saddle, and his build, hard to disguise under his clothing, that he was indeed a warrior and not what Rowdy would consider a “dandy” in any way. He welcomed the challenge. Unlike many bullies, Rowdy usually did not see other men as bigger and stronger; he was almost always larger and more powerful than any man he faced.

  Stepping out in front of Gabriel, he held his hand up. “Hold on there, laddie,” he said. “We got mosta our redskins stuffed up in a cage. Where’re ya thinkin’ yer goin, Injun?”

  Joshua got off his big pinto and stuck out his hand, which was ignored.

  “Hello, Sergeant,” Joshua said. “I need to speak to Major General Davis. I have a dispatch for him.”

  Rowdy put his hands on his hips exclaiming, “You? We have had redskins bushwhacking our officers, and ya think I am ta believe ya got a distpatch fer the general?”

  Joshua said, “I have a dispatch for General Davis. Where is he?”

  Rowdy chuckled and looked at the other men he was trying to show off for.

  “I’ll tell you what, Chief,” Rowdy said with a smirk. “Ya gimme yer dispatch, an’ I’ll be givin’ it to the general, lad.”

  Joshua was losing patience with this behemoth and saw that Rowdy was trying to impress the men that were standing nearby. He started expecting trouble to come at any moment.

  He said, “I can only give this to the general, Sergeant. I need to see him now, and when I do I will tell him you tried to stop me if you want to keep this up.”

  “Why, you uppity blanket nigger!” Rowdy roared. “Who in saint’s peejamas do ya think ya are? Why, I oughta!”

  With that, Rowdy, red-faced and veins bulging, stepped forward and threw a cantaloupe-sized fist at Strongheart’s face. The young warrior was waiting for it. He held up one of Gabe’s long leather reins with both hands straight out, about two feet apart, and quickly swung one arm up and one down, to wrap the reins around Rowdy’s fist. Then Joshua simply stepped backwards, allowing Rowdy’s momentum to carry him forward and crash face-first into the water trough behind the Pinkerton man. Rowdy went completely under, with water splashing out everywhere. The men who had been watching laughed heartily.

  Joshua turned to them and said, “Where do I find the general?”

  Two of them, still laughing, pointed at a long building at the end of the street, and he started walking that way, leading the big spotted horse. Glancing back, he saw the enraged and embarrassed giant being helped from the trough by two soldiers. One was chuckling, and Rowdy punched him full in the face, sending him sprawling.

  It became obvious to Joshua that there were high anti-Indian feelings around there. Very respected men representing the U.S. government had trusted in the honor of
Captain Jack, only to be gunned down while moving forward carrying a white flag of truce. That did not sit well with these soldiers at all, and Strongheart could certainly understand the anger at red men. As a man with red blood, he was angry because he took great pride in his red heritage and considered such an act cowardly and disgraceful in both the white and the red man’s worlds.

  It took another half hour of speaking to soldiers, with several giving him very cold stares, before he finally got into see Major General Jefferson Columbus Davis. Strongheart’s eyes studied the man carefully.

  He wore a double-breasted tunic and had a thick, scruffy beard and prominent mustache. His hair was parted on the right but was long and unkempt. His uniform fit and was clean, but it looked crumpled. Joshua realized Davis was a doer general, not one who sat in a chair all day and then changed trousers to make sure the pleats were well creased.

  The general was appraising the tall Pinkerton agent as well. He could tell the man had been traveling hard for many miles. He read the dispatch from the War Department and the President’s endorsement and smiled.

  Then he simply said, “Glad I didn’t hang the son of a buck yet.”

  Joshua chuckled.

  Davis went on. “I will send a dispatch back by wire and military courier stating that I got your dispatch and will comply. No need to make you stick around for a trial. There is no doubt that Captain Jack and his owlhoots will hang, but I will keep Washington apprised until they do. The orders make sense.”

  Joshua said, “General, I think I will resupply at your store and head on back to Colorado Territory.”

  “I think it will become a state in a few years maybe. Heard some talk of it,” the officer replied. “Did you have much trouble getting here with the dispatch?”

  Strongheart chuckled to himself. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, Sir. The Pinkertons deliver.”

  “Surprised they hired a redskin, no offense.”

  Joshua grinned. “None taken, General. They hired the white half of me. The red part tagged along.”

  The general chuckled and then guffawed.

  He escorted Joshua to the door and warned, “I have some men with pretty strong sentiments right now. I hope you understand.”

  Strongheart said, “General, men being shot down and killed under a flag of truce is not something any red man of good upbringing condones. We have honor, too.”

  Davis stared at him and extended his hand, saying, “I believe you, Mr. Strongheart.”

  The general thought about having his first sergeant escort him to the store and away from the garrison, then he grinned, thinking that this man would handle whatever the general’s men handed him.

  Strongheart left the headquarters building and asked directions to the store. Unfortunately, Rowdy and his hangers-on were outside the place. Joshua thought he should probably just leave, but he was already headed directly toward the store when he spotted the troublemaker. He could not just turn tail.

  Rowdy came forward, chest sticking out and chin jutting defiantly.

  “Well, laddie,” he said, “ya think ya bested me ’cause I had a slip. We’re gonna change the dance.”

  Strongheart said, “Sergeant, you are playing the wrong tune. I am tired, just traveled halfway across the country to deliver one letter, and plan to buy my supplies and leave. So step aside kindly.”

  Rowdy stepped forward and tried to give Joshua a shove with both hands. Joshua’s hands shot forward and up, the way Dan had taught him, with his palms forward. They went up in front of his chest in little semicircles from the inside out, and he grabbed Rowdy’s fingers, while the circling movement naturally made both of Rowdy’s hands turn palm up, with the fingers bent down towards the ground. Rowdy screamed in pain from the pressure on his wrists and knuckles, which all felt like they were ready to pop totally out of joint, and he stood up on his tiptoes it hurt so bad.

  Joshua grinned, whispering, “You said you wanted to dance. How about a do-si-do?”

  With that, he marched the crusty old brawler twenty feet to the watering trough he’d swum in before. Suddenly,

  Strongheart swung him sideways, spinning on his own heels, and let go, laughing as the big sergeant crashed into the watering trough again, while all his men laughed. Joshua walked on to the store, while Major General Davis chuckled to himself, watching from his outer office window. Even the general laughed aloud as Rowdy came out of the trough cursing and yelling, slipped, and fell back into the water.

  As he had hoped, Strongheart bought his supplies then headed to the telegrapher to send a wire to Lucky. He wrote that he would check for any replies in Salt Lake City. He picked up medical supplies at the military store and treats for himself and his horse. On the train to Salt Lake City, he made up for more lost sleep.

  6

  Returning

  The stars were as plentiful as the rocks all around them in the canyon north of Westcliffe, where they had ridden up the long mining trail that wound around Spread Eagle Peak. Here, they lay on a blanket by a crystal clear lake. Earlier in the day, they had eaten cutthroat trout from the glacial-fed lake where they had made love all afternoon. The moon shined brightly on the many patches of snow still clinging to the sides of avalanche chutes and the northern slopes high above the timberline all around them. The warmth of the fire bounced off the large rocks around them.

  Joshua looked into the eyes of Annabelle and relished her nakedness and natural beauty in the unfiltered moonlight. He watched as the reflection of the flames from their campfire played across her voluptuous body.

  She kissed him deeply and touched his face with her left hand. The antique wedding ring sparkled in the moonlight, and he looked at it.

  His heart skipped a beat, and Joshua said, “Oh, Annabelle, your husband isn’t even cold yet, and here I am making love to you.”

  Strongheart sat up suddenly, blinking his eyes, and saw that he was on the train headed toward Salt Lake City. He was breathing heavily and his heart was pounding. Joshua felt guilty over fantasizing about the beautiful widow.

  He stared out the window at the passing mountainscapes as he thought his problem out. Strongheart was very attracted to the woman, but she had recently been widowed by a man she obviously loved, and who had died nobly. She might feel herself falling in love with Joshua, but he could never trust her feelings to be total love. She might feel extreme loneliness, emptiness, and a need for comfort, and might mistake any or all of those things for love.

  The handsome warrior had the practicality of his stepfather, Dan, along with the passion of his father, Claw Marks. He also remembered the example his father had set for him, even before he was born, by forsaking love because he knew it would not be right for Joshua’s mother. Joshua wanted that kind of love, and sadly he knew he would probably end up riding away from Annabelle without ever fulfilling his fantasies.

  In Salt Lake City, Joshua had to switch trains, and he decided to get a hotel room, a feather bed, and a good night of sleep. Earlier in the day, a man in his railcar had awakened him screaming and yelling when a hot ash from the engine came in the window and caught the sleeve of his jacket on fire. Incidents like that, plus the discomfort of sitting in a train seat with his long legs, did not make for restful sleep. Joshua decided he would get the room, take a nice hot bath, and have a large dinner, as well. At the same time, Gabriel would get a nice stall, bedding straw, fresh water, some oats, and some nice alfalfa/grass hay, as well as the company of other horses in a livery stable.

  The first thing he did was send a telegraph to Lucky and tell the telegrapher where he was staying, so he could get ahold of him when the message reply came in.

  Then he boarded his horse and even hired two boys to give Gabe a nice grooming, and he told the blacksmith to give the big horse new shoes. The man was large and Irish-born, with a twinkle in his eye and a giant shock of red hair and beard, and joke after joke. Strongheart saw by looking around the stable, however, that the man took great pride in his work.
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  After that, the warrior found a great café and was eating a giant slice of delicious apple pie when the telegrapher came in and sought him out. The Western Union man had garters on both sleeves and a visor band on his head. He was as skinny as a post, with a little tiny potbelly that hung over the waist of his homespun trousers. He wore spectacles and had a droopy gray mustache and bushy gray eyebrows.

  Joshua grinned to himself when he looked at him. He would never grin openly at someone like that and make him feel uncomfortable or insecure. The only person he had ever made fun of was a heavyset boy in his class at school. The teacher mentioned it to Dan, and Josh got one of his hardest switchings ever, after having to cut the hickory stick himself.

  He bade the man to sit down and looked at the telegraph while motioning for coffee for him.

  It read: “STRONGHEART RETURN WESTCLIFFE AREA STOP NEW ASSIGNMENT STOP GOOD JOB STOP LUCKY.”

  Joshua tipped the man and wrote out a reply on a piece of paper from the café owner: “GOING THERE STOP HAVE A CHORE STOP NEED TIME TO HEAL BULLET WOUNDS STOP STRONGHEART.”

  The telegrapher read the message to insure he had it right and then departed. After a long, hot bath, Strongheart headed to bed and was just getting ready to turn in when there was a knock on his door. He drew his Colt.

  “Who’s there?”

  “Western Union,” came the meek reply.

  Joshua knew the voice and holstered his pistol while opening the door.

  The man came in, handing him the reply telegraph, and the tall warrior handed him a good tip. “Thank you. I sure have kept you busy today, sir.”

  The man waited while Joshua read the telegram: “I WILL STAY AT HOT SPRINGS HOTEL PAST THE PRISON IN CANON CITY STOP.”

  Joshua handed the man more money and said, “Thanks. Just acknowledge the wire.”

  “Yes, sir,” the man said. “Sir, might I say you sure speak well for an Indian.”

  Joshua smiled, saying, “Maybe the white half of me speaks well. I bet the red half speaks well when I am in a Sioux village.”