Winter puffed on the cheroot for a moment, blew out a cloud of smoke, and said, “Not bad luck. The white man was Preacher.”
Appleseed’s eyebrows crawled up his forehead in surprise.
“Preacher!” he said. “Dang, I’ve heard plenty of stories about that varmint. Are you sure it was him?”
“I got a good look at him in the firelight. It was Preacher. I will never forget him.”
“You’ve met him before?”
A faraway look came into Winter’s eyes as she said, “It was ten years ago, perhaps a little more. Preacher had long waged war on the Blackfoot people, but this time he set out to destroy an entire village, to kill all the warriors who lived there and leave the women and children defenseless. They fought him, of course. Preacher had the help of his bastard son, an Absaroka youth called Hawk That Soars. But still, it was just the two of them against many, many Blackfoot warriors.” The note of bitterness in her voice was plain to hear as she went on, “Even so, they triumphed. They brought bloodshed and destruction to my people. I fought them. No one believed I could be a warrior because I am a woman, but I fought Preacher and Hawk That Soars and almost defeated them. In the end, though . . .”
Her face might have been carved out of wood as she sighed, but the bleak iciness of her soul sparkled in her eyes and made it clear how that previous clash had turned out.
“I vowed that I would make myself even more of a warrior,” she went on after a moment. “And I swore that someday, I would find Preacher and Hawk and kill them. Now that time has come. Fate has delivered them into my hands.”
Appleseed frowned and responded, “I thought you said we weren’t goin’ after that wagon train.”
“We are not . . . unless Preacher and Hawk accompany it. But they rode up from a different direction and may have business here in the foothills or the mountains. I intend to watch and follow them, whether they go with the wagons or not, and when the time is right, I will return here, gather everyone together, and strike for vengeance long overdue.”
Appleseed scratched at his beard again and slowly nodded. He was about to say something, but then he got distracted by something he picked out of the tangled growth hanging down over his chest. He studied it for a second, crushed it between his fingers, and then wiped them on his greasy buckskin trousers.
“You need to be careful,” he told Winter. “Preacher’s supposed to be half mountain lion, half grizzly bear, and half whirlwind. Although . . .” He chuckled. “Come to think of it, a fella could say pretty much the same thing about you. Don’t worry, Winter. I’ll take care of ever’thing else so you can track them varmints to their lair. Can’t think of but one problem with this deal.”
“Problem?” Winter repeated with a frown.
“Them fellas.” Appleseed inclined his head toward the rest of the gang. “Helpin’ you settle your score agin Preacher ain’t gonna put no money in their pockets. I don’t know how they’re gonna feel about that.”
“They will do as I say,” snapped Winter.
“Well, sure, sure, you’re the boss, but they figure on gettin’ a good payoff for anything they do.”
Winter considered that for a moment and then said, “I will not take a share of the money from our next two . . . no, our next three jobs. What would have been my share will be divided among those who ride with me on this quest.”
“Now that’s a deal I can sell,” Appleseed said with a nod. “And after Preacher and Hawk are dead?”
“We will loot the frontier from one end to the other,” said Winter Wind.
CHAPTER 11
Fort Kearny
Once Jamie had agreed to accompany the expedition to the Crow village, Captain Croxton didn’t waste any time getting the mission underway. He might have been worried that if he delayed too long, Jamie would change his mind.
The soldiers loading the supply wagons finished with the task by nine o’clock that morning. B Troop saddled their horses and mustered on the parade ground. Lieutenant Hayden Tyler had the dragoons looking good. Jamie had to admit that as he led his horse out to join them. Their uniforms were clean, their boots were polished, and they wore their black caps at precisely the correct angle.
They might look like soldiers, Jamie mused, but that didn’t mean they would act like them. These weren’t veteran troops, blooded and hardened by battle.
Of course, the mission on which they were setting out shouldn’t be a particularly dangerous one, either. They weren’t riding to wage war. It was more of a diplomatic detail.
The frontier was an unpredictable place, though. Just because they shouldn’t run into trouble . . . didn’t mean that they wouldn’t.
And the possibility of that happening increased because of who Croxton had placed in command, Jamie thought as he watched Lieutenant Edgar Davidson strut out to the parade ground with Sergeant Liam O’Connor lumbering along behind him like a trained Irish bear.
A soldier was waiting for Davidson, holding mounts for him and O’Connor. Davidson took the reins from the trooper without thanking him, barely acknowledging the man’s presence. Then he turned to the approximately sixty members of B Troop who stood beside their horses, waiting for orders.
“Sergeant,” Davidson said to O’Connor.
“Mount up!” the sergeant bellowed, his harsh voice carrying easily across the parade ground in the morning air.
The dragoons swung into their saddles, their movements crisp and efficient. Jamie waited a moment to observe what they were doing.
Lieutenant Tyler mounted easily. Davidson struggled more getting into the saddle. Jamie told himself not to let that color his opinion of the young officer too much. There was more to being a soldier than just horsemanship, although that was certainly important.
With that thought in his mind, he mounted up, too, and nudged his horse forward to join Davidson and Tyler.
“Got any particular orders for me, Lieutenant?” he asked Davidson.
“Captain Croxton said that you’ve served as a scout in the past.”
“That’s right.”
“Well, then, just do whatever it is you’d normally do,” Davidson snapped peevishly. “Or do I have to do all the thinking for this expedition?”
Having somebody so young and arrogant talk to him like that rankled, but Jamie nodded and said, “I’ll ride on ahead a ways. You can follow me. You won’t get lost if I’m out of sight, though. We’ll be following the river for several days before we swing more to the north.”
“Yes, I studied the map in the captain’s office as well.”
“I’m not really basing that on the map.” Jamie couldn’t resist adding, “I’ve been through the country where we’re going. More than once, in fact. So I know how to get to that Crow village.”
Davidson’s lips tightened. He nodded and said, “Let’s get on with it, then.” He turned his head to look at O’Connor. “Give the order to move out, Sergeant.”
O’Connor lifted his right hand above his head and waved his arm forward.
“Mooove out!”
The troop rode across the parade ground. Some of the soldiers who weren’t going along on this mission had turned out to watch B Troop depart. The faces of those staying behind were a mixture of envy—because life on a frontier fort was pretty monotonous and B Troop was getting to break that routine—and relief . . . because they weren’t setting out into what could be a dangerous unknown land.
Captain Croxton stood on the porch of the headquarters building and watched B Troop ride away, as well. Jamie lifted a hand in farewell to him, not as a salute but in a casual wave. Croxton nodded. The captain’s reputation—and future promotions—might be riding on the outcome of this mission, Jamie knew, and the tenseness of Croxton’s stance indicated that.
The dragoons moved away from the fort, keeping their horses at a walk, but Jamie put his mount into a trot that carried him a couple of hundred yards ahead. He was glad to be away from Lieutenant Davidson and Sergeant O’Connor.
>
Might be a good idea for him to keep his distance from those two as much as possible, he told himself.
* * *
The troop rode steadily that morning, with Jamie usually a quarter of a mile or so in the lead, riding by himself. That solitude didn’t bother him; he was as comfortable with his own company as he was surrounded by his large family back home in Colorado.
He didn’t mind, though, when he heard hoofbeats coming up behind him and turned in the saddle to see Lieutenant Hayden Tyler approaching.
“Lieutenant,” Jamie greeted him as the young officer came alongside.
“Mr. MacCallister. Lieutenant Davidson sent me to find out when he should call a midday halt.”
“He could have sent the bugler or one of the other troopers to ask about that.”
“I suppose,” Tyler said.
“But he didn’t want anybody else to know that he was asking for advice, did he?” asked Jamie. “He’d rather make it look like he sent you up here to tell me his orders.”
“I wouldn’t know about that, sir,” Tyler replied, but Jamie could tell that Tyler did know. He had figured it out just like Jamie had. Davidson didn’t want anything to indicate that he wasn’t completely in command and didn’t know exactly what he was doing.
“Then tell me this, Lieutenant . . . Has Davidson led any patrols since he’s been here?”
“I don’t believe Lieutenant Davidson has done that, no, sir.”
Tyler was reinforcing military protocol and wanted Jamie to respect Davidson, or at least make a show of doing so. That wasn’t likely to happen, since Jamie didn’t demonstrate respect for anybody who hadn’t earned it.
“So he’s been just a desk soldier so far.”
Tyler didn’t say anything.
“Take a look around, Lieutenant,” Jamie suggested. “What do you see?”
Tyler sounded puzzled as he replied, “Grassland, sir. And the river, of course.”
“Yep, that’s all there is to see, all right. This prairie stretches for miles and miles. No trees, no real hills, maybe a little ridge or pile of rock now and then. So it’s not a matter of finding a good place to stop. It’s all the same. What you have to know is how your men and their horses are holding up. On a long journey like this, you don’t want to push them too hard. If you do, you’ll wear them out and break them down before you get back.”
“How can you tell?” asked Tyler. He seemed genuinely interested now.
“Watch the men’s shoulders. When they start to slump, straighten them up again. You don’t want to take it too easy on them. But when it happens again, stop and let them take a short rest. If the men need it, chances are the horses do, too.” Jamie gestured toward the fiery orb overhead. “And watch the sun. When it’s directly above us, that’ll be the time to stop for a longer rest. Let the men eat something and let the horses drink. Not too much, though. They’ll still have a whole afternoon’s ride to get through. Can’t have them bloating up.”
“Yes, sir,” Tyler said with a nod. “I’ll remember those things.”
Judging by the intent look on the young man’s face, Jamie had a hunch Tyler actually would remember. He was eager to learn and willing to listen to those who had the knowledge he needed. That was a good combination for an army officer or anybody else.
“What do I tell Lieutenant Davidson, though?” Tyler went on.
“Tell him I said you should decide when to call the halts.”
Tyler frowned and said, “I don’t think he’d like that.”
“You’re both lieutenants. Shouldn’t you have some responsibility?”
“He’s a first lieutenant, though. I’m only a second. And he’s in command of this detail.”
“Tell him what you want,” Jamie said. “But don’t let him push the men or the horses too hard. It’s up to you.”
Tyler looked like he didn’t care for that at all. He started to turn his horse, but Jamie added, “Lieutenant.”
“Yes, Mr. MacCallister?”
“What happened to the sergeant who was assigned to B Troop?”
“Captain Croxton reassigned him to D Troop, Sergeant O’Connor’s old post.”
“Your sergeant knew the men in this troop.”
Tyler sighed and said, “Sergeant Flaherty was very experienced. Very competent.”
“And O’Connor’s a loudmouthed bully. That trade couldn’t have set very well with you.”
“It was . . . an unconventional move.”
“And Croxton just did it to placate Davidson.”
Tyler’s frown deepened as he said, “Are you trying to stir up trouble, Mr. MacCallister?”
“No, son, I’m just trying to make sure I understand everything that’s going on here. Might come a time when my life depends on it.” Jamie paused. “All our lives. I’m thinking maybe I can count on you.”
“I certainly hope so,” Tyler said.
“So do I,” Jamie said.
* * *
Despite putting the burden of deciding when to call halts on Lieutenant Tyler’s shoulders, Jamie kept an eye on the troop as best he could from his position in front, just in case he needed to step in.
That proved not to be necessary. Whoever made the decisions, Tyler or Davidson, the stops during that day were spaced out well, and by the time they made camp late that afternoon, men and horses alike were tired but not exhausted. With Tyler giving most of the orders, camp was set up quickly and efficiently.
A small group of soldiers gathered buffalo chips for the fire. As they came back into camp carrying baskets full of the dried dung, Jamie grinned and said to them, “You boys got yourselves some plains oak, I see.”
One of the young soldiers returned the smile and said, “After all the years she spent yellin’ at me and my pa and my brothers to wipe our boots off before we came in the house, my ma would have a conniption fit if she saw what I was doin’ now!”
Corporal Mackey, one of the teamsters who had been driving the supply wagons all day, also served as the cook. He had put a big pot of beans on to soak before leaving the fort that morning, and he soon had them heating over a fire. He had biscuit dough ready to go into the Dutch ovens as well, and several pots of coffee were soon boiling, too. The smell of cooking food and the light from the fires created a peaceful atmosphere as the men settled down for the evening after tending to their mounts.
Jamie stood at the edge of camp, peering out into the gathering dusk. He was searching for any signs of trouble, but except for him and the soldiers and the horses, the prairie seemed to be deserted.
He knew better than to trust in appearances, though. Danger could be lurking unseen in the shadows.
A footstep sounded behind him. Lieutenant Tyler said, “Is there a problem, Mr. MacCallister?”
“Nope,” Jamie replied. “Just havin’ a look around. Have you posted sentries?”
“Yes, there’s a man on each side of the camp.”
“I’d double that if I was you. Two-hour shifts.”
Tyler considered that suggestion, then nodded and said, “I can do that.”
“Do you need to ask Lieutenant Davidson about it?”
“Lieutenant Davidson has discovered that he doesn’t mind delegating some of the details to me.”
Jamie chuckled and said, “It’s easier on him that way, I reckon.” He grew more serious as he went on, “It would be a good idea if you passed the word to the men not to spend too much time looking into the fires. That’ll ruin a man’s night vision for a while, and if any trouble crops up, he won’t be able to see what he’s shooting at.”
“But you’re not expecting trouble.”
“Nope. Still . . . after everybody’s eaten, might be a good idea to let those fires die down. There haven’t been any Pawnee raiding parties in this area lately, as far as I’ve heard, but you never know when they might take it in their heads to start roaming around, looking for mischief to get into.”
“Mischief,” Tyler repeated. “Like scalp
ing American soldiers.”
“Well . . . they see it as great sport.”
Tyler shook his head and said, “I’ll double the guard, and I’ll warn the men about not looking into the fire.”
“Once it gets good and dark, I plan on going out to have a better look around. Make sure the sentries know that, and tell them not to get trigger-happy and shoot me when I’m on my way back in.”
“You’re going out alone?”
“It’s best that way,” Jamie said.
Truth be told, there wasn’t one of these dragoons he would trust to accompany him on a nighttime scout. He could move through the shadows without being seen or heard, but he was convinced none of the soldiers could.
Jamie went back to the fires and got himself a cup of coffee and a couple of biscuits to gnaw on while he waited for full dark to fall. He was hunkered on his heels when something struck the back of his right shoulder. The impact made him lurch forward, spill his coffee, and drop the second biscuit as he caught himself by putting a hand on the ground.
He recovered his balance almost instantly and surged to his feet. He knew that someone had bumped heavily into him, and when he turned to see who was responsible, he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Sergeant Liam O’Connor giving him an ugly grin.
“You should pay attention to what’s going on around you, MacCallister,” O’Connor said. “You might get in the way of a soldier on army business.”
“What sort of army business were you bound on, O’Connor?” Jamie demanded.
“Got to take a leak. Now, you can get out of the way . . . or I can piss all over your boots, if that’s what you want.”
The troopers who had gathered around the fire to eat supper turned eager eyes toward the two big men who stood there in confrontational attitudes. Most of them probably hoped a fight would break out. That would be a good evening’s entertainment.
Instead, Lieutenant Davidson stepped up with his hands clasped behind his back and asked, “What’s going on here?”
“MacCallister got in my way,” O’Connor said.
“More like you ran into me,” Jamie shot back.
Frontier America Page 9