by Edward Gates
It was mid-morning when he arrived at the warehouse. On his way to Max’s office he was intercepted by the warehouse foreman.
“Charlie!”
He turned to see Henry Dickson standing in the doorway of his small office. “Morning, Henry. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Glad to see you made it back. How ´bout some coffee?”
“Sure. But Max said he wanted to meet with me today.”
“Yeah. I know. He’s got Walter in there right now. Come on in and have a coffee with me until Walter leaves.”
Charlie walked back to Henry’s office and squeezed himself past the file cabinets and stacks of books to a chair across from the desk. Henry poured two mugs of coffee, handed one to Charlie and then sat and put his feet up on the desk.
“So… what’d you think of your first trip?”
Charlie chortled. “I don’t think I liked it at all. It was long, uncomfortable and not very pleasant.”
“What was so bad about it?”
“Let’s see, now. I half froze to death, got attacked by Indians and outlaws, got shot at and damn-near killed. Riding in that wagon was rough, and I don’t think my back will ever be the same. I got seized by the Confederate Army where I got my head bashed in; and, by the way, I am now branded a deserter. I learned to fight and… I learned how to kill. Now what part of that do you think I should like?”
“Well, you said you wanted to go out west. Now you got a chance to see what the west is all about.”
“You’re right. I did say that, didn’t I?” Charlie paused and sipped his coffee, thinking about his journey. “I learned a lot of things I had to learn. Not necessarily things I wanted to learn.” He looked past the misery and danger. He remembered the laughs and camaraderie the five of them shared and how close they had all become. He recalled the lessons Dave and Ed taught him and smiled. Because of his journey he was stronger and wiser. Charlie looked at Henry. “There were some good things, too.”
Henry sipped his coffee and smiled back at him. “Sounds like a pretty typical journey. At least you made it back alive. I heard Jesse didn’t.”
Charlie lowered his head. Henry was right. As bad as he thought his trip was, he had at least survived it. He thought about Jesse and looked over at the foreman. “We were attacked by thirty to forty Indians in Texas. Jesse got shot in his leg. It kept him from moving around a lot. They must’ve run out of bullets because the gunfire slowed and they started lobbing volleys of arrows at us. Jesse couldn’t get out of the way. We all would have been slaughtered if it wasn’t for the Texas Rangers showing up.”
The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Henry picked up his coffeepot. “More coffee?”
He held his mug out while Henry refilled his cup. “So, Charlie, are you ready to go out on another trip?”
“You got to be kidding me.” Charlie laughed out loud. “You mean you’re going to send out another group of wagons?”
“Charlie, we’re a shipping company. This is our business. I’ve got thirteen teams, two steamers and a few other riverboats at my disposal. I got six wagons on the road right now, a month apart, doing exactly what you did. I’ll be sending out two more teams in the next few days. We have a steady stream of rifles coming from San Francisco. They have to be moved and moved quickly.” Henry pulled a map of the area from a stack of papers behind him and opened it on his desk. “Look here, now. I got them two steamers pushing freight on the river that I hope will make it to the Mississippi. They should be right around this spot by now.” Henry pointed to a spot on the Arkansas River. “Yankees have pretty much bottled up the rivers and are confiscating anything and everything that they stop. We try and sneak through at night. I just hope they can make it.”
“Where are they heading?”
“Vicksburg. It’s about the only river port that the Yankees haven’t captured or cut off.”
“Vicksburg?” Charlie thought about the upcoming siege. He wanted to warn Henry and Max but knew he couldn’t say anything. “Max’s son is in Vicksburg, isn’t he?”
“Yeah. But I wouldn’t worry too much. That city is too well fortified. Yankees would be committing suicide if they attacked it.” Henry looked at the map a moment, then continued. “I got two wagons of freight heading to Texas, and three others going to Kansas and Missouri.”
“So you always need drivers,” Charlie interjected.
Henry nodded. “I always have work.” He rolled up the map and tossed it back on top of the cabinets behind him.
“You know, you could really use some organization in here,” Walter said as he leaned against the door to Henry’s office.
“Walter! How long you been standing there?” Henry said.
“Long enough to hear you try and sell Charlie on how busy you are.”
All three laughed.
“How are you doing, Walt? I was very sorry to hear about your son. You have my condolences,” Henry said.
Walter nodded and lowered his head but didn’t answer. Charlie looked at Henry and then to Walter, puzzled.
“Son? I didn’t know you had a son. I spent six months on the road with you and you only talked about your daughter. Never your wife and never your son,” Charlie said. “What happened to your son?”
Walter looked at him. A solemn, ashen look changed his complexion. “My wife died about six years ago. Fever got her. She was a good woman. Kept a good home and gave me two fine children, a son and a daughter. Both got sick when she did. They pulled through the fever and got all well. Sarah never got better. She passed a few months after.” Walter paused and seemed to swallow a sob. “Lilly, my girl, is nineteen now, a growed woman. She took over the house and runs it fine.” He smiled with pride. “She’s too busy taking care of me to find her a man. Now my boy, Jacob, was seventeen. A real hellion. He run off last fall and joined up with the army. Last night Lilly told me he was killed at Murfreesboro in December. No way to git in touch with me on the road. Had to wait ‘til I got back to tell me.”
No one said a word for a long moment. Charlie didn’t know what to say. He felt empty inside after hearing his friend’s tragic story. “I’m really sorry, Walter,” was all he could manage.
Walter looked up at Charlie. “Max give me a wagon and team. I’m leaving tomorrow for Tennessee to fetch my boy and bring him back home. Gonna bury him next to his ma.”
Henry stood and offered Walter his hand. “You be safe on that trip. You should be real proud of your son. Jacob was a fine boy.”
Walter shook Henry’s hand and turned to leave. “Yeah.” He didn’t smile or seem to appreciate Henry’s remark. “Real proud,” he muttered on his way out.
“It’s a damn shame,” Henry said. “This goddamn war! It was only supposed to last a few months.” He looked at Charlie, who thought he saw moisture in the older man’s eyes.
Charlie set his mug down, thanked Henry for the coffee and walked to Max’s office. He knew the war was only half over and that the worst was yet to come. However, today was the first time a report of someone being killed touched him personally. One of his close friends lost a family member and Max’s son was in imminent danger. He stood outside Max’s office door trying to think of a way to subtly warn Max about Grant’s siege of Vicksburg that would begin next month, in May. He thought about having the power to change history. But, at what cost? He pondered the massive ripple effect of what a subtle change to current events could mean to future generations. The paradox was too complicated to think about. Maybe he should just leave everything as it was. He knocked.
“Come!” Max hollered.
Charlie entered. “Morning, Max. You wanted to talk with me?”
“Yep, I sure do. Sit down.”
He sat in one of the leather chairs facing Max’s desk.
“Dave and Ed told me you did all right on this trip.”
“They really said that? It didn’t feel like I did.”
Max nodded and smiled. “I suppose not. But they said you really came through wh
en you had to. These aren’t pleasure trips. They can get plenty rough at times.” He paused. “You got any qualms about taking another trip?”
Charlie sighed. Yes, he had plenty of qualms, but he wasn’t sure he should mention them to Max. After all, Max had been very generous to him and it wasn’t a good idea to alienate one’s benefactor. He didn’t answer, just looked off to one side.
“I thought so,” Max said. “If I was you I’d have misgivings as well. You left here green as hell. You must have learned something useful.”
“Oh, yeah. Dave did as you asked. He took me under his wing and showed me everything. I learned a lot.” Charlie shifted in his seat as he remembered a number of positive lessons learned. “I learned to hunt, butcher and preserve meat. I learned native medicines. I learned how to read the skies for weather. And I learned how to fight… and kill.”
Max didn’t say anything.
Charlie stared at him and let his last remark sink in. “Like I said, I learned a lot. Mostly, I learned how to handle myself and read people. I have to thank Ed and Dave for that. We met some interesting people along the way. Some real bastards, and some good folks. I got to know some Texas Rangers pretty well. In fact, they asked me to join up with them.” He flashed a proud grin.
“The Rangers, huh? You thinking about joining?”
“Thought about it a lot. Especially when I was marching drills every day.”
Max let out a laugh. “That’s right. Dave told me about what happened in Crockett. I’m sorry that you got conscripted that way.”
“Well, now I’m a deserter, a fugitive. I’d like to stay away from people for a while. If I’m caught, they’re gonna hang me. With all these soldiers in town I’m afraid to show my face.”
“You don’t need to worry about these soldiers. They won’t be here long. They’re not looking for deserters. They got their own problems. Hindman is gonna pull them out of here soon.”
“What are they all doing here?”
“Mostly recovering!” Max shook his head as if he was disturbed by a thought. “That damn General Hindman took eleven thousand men to Prairie Grove to face Blunt’s Yankees, which, by the way, was a much smaller force. If he drove into them like he should have, he would have taken them by surprise and driven all them Yankees out of Arkansas. But, he hesitated. He hesitated too long and Blunt pushed him back here to Fort Smith.” He shook his head again and remembered his thoughts. “Anyway, don’t worry about desertin’ the army. I’ll take care of it.”
“How you going to take care of me being a deserter?”
“In the illustrious Southern army, there are three ways to keep from being conscripted. There’s the Twenty Negro Law; if you happen to own twenty or more slaves, you don’t have to serve. Or, if you have the money, you can pay to have someone serve in your place.”
“So that’s it,” Charlie said, more to himself than to Max.
“What’s it?”
“When I was in Crockett I heard some of the soldiers refer to this as a rich man’s war. Apparently, if you have money, you can stay out of the war.” Max nodded in agreement. “So what’s the third way?”
Max smiled like he was about to reveal a secret. He got up and walked around his desk and sat on the corner. “If you happen to be clergy, a railroad worker or a government official, you are exempt from service. They can’t touch you.”
“But I’m a freighter,” said Charlie.
“Not any more, you ain’t. I’m going to make you a government official for the town of Fort Smith.” Max smiled broadly as if he just solved the world’s problems. “You’re gonna be a city councilman!”
“No! Hell, no! I can’t!” Charlie exclaimed. “I don’t want to be a government official at all. Is that your only solution?”
“Well, you certainly ain’t no clergy. And I don’t believe you own twenty slaves. And I can’t put you on the railroad since we ain’t got one. The only thing left is…” Max’s eyes widened. He smiled at a thought that had obviously just formed in his mind.
“What is it? What are you cooking up now?”
Max waved his finger at Charlie and smiled. “You don’t have to be a councilman. No, you are going to be a deputy sheriff here in Fort Smith.”
“What?”
“It’s flawless! It’ll keep you off the road for a while and you’ll still be a city official. If anybody comes looking for you, we’ll just tell them you’re exempt from service.”
“But I don’t know anything about being a sheriff,” Charlie protested.
“That’s not what Ed says.” Max leaned in closer to Charlie. “He said you faced down some fella in Denver.”
“That was different. He was drunk and about to shoot Ed.”
Max didn’t say anything. He stood, smiled real big and spread his arms out wide. Charlie realized that his statement just confirmed Max’s point. Acting like he did in Denver was pretty much what sheriffs do.
“I don’t see any other choice.” Max went to the safe behind his desk and brought out a tin cashbox. The younger man watched him count out a number of bills and coins and set them on the desk in front of Charlie. “There’s your pay for the trip. I’ll let Sheriff Hart know that he’s going to get a new deputy.”
“That’s a lot of money! There’s over five hundred dollars there.”
“Yep. And you earned every dollar.” Max paused and watched Charlie thumb through the stack of bills, snickering. “I took out thirteen dollars for the clothes you got from Fricker.”
“Well, Dave gave us some money in Larned and in Denver. Did he tell you that?”
“The money in Larned was your money. It was bounty and spoils money. It’s all yours, over and above your pay. Dave kept a cut for me, which he didn’t have to do, but it was much appreciated. The money in Denver was a small part of your pay. Dave and I agreed to give each one that cut halfway through the trip.” Max pointed to the money on his desk. “This here is the balance.”
Charlie slowly gathered in the cash and held it for a while before stashing it in his pockets.
“You’re gonna need a sidearm since the army took yours. You’ll probably need a shotgun for close-in work. And you should get yourself a Henry or a Spencer for long range. Have Ben get you outfitted with all this and some new clothes.”
Charlie nodded and looked up at Max. “So, just like that I’m a deputy sheriff?”
“Yep. Just like that. We’ll do the official swearin’ in later on when you’re ready to go to work.”
“Doesn’t the sheriff have any say in this? What if he doesn’t want a new deputy?”
Max laughed. “Sheriff Hart does what he’s told. If I tell him he’s getting a new deputy, then he’s getting a new deputy.”
Charlie was a little stunned by Max’s remark. He always suspected his boss of having some influence in the happenings around Fort Smith, but he never knew how much. He leaned back in his chair and realized that he was looking at not only a controlling force of the city, but the controlling force of Fort Smith. As a deputy sheriff, he wouldn’t be working for the sheriff or the city; he’d be working for Max.
He slowly stood up. He wanted to decline the law-enforcement position but knew he didn’t have a choice. The decision was made.
“Tomorrow morning, I want you to ride out to Dave’s place. Tell him I want him to teach you some gun handling. And tell him why.”
Charlie nodded. “Okay. Where’s Dave’s place?”
“He’s got a small spread about six miles northeast of town. It’s a ramshackle of a place. A small dirt-and-log cabin. He runs a little herd of horses and cattle. He’s got a Choctaw squaw livin’ there with him and a bunch of Choctaw Indians I expect are the woman’s family. They help Dave run the place, especially when he’s on the road.”
Charlie walked to the door numbly. He thanked Max, left the warehouse and headed back to Fricker’s store to pick out some new gear. He kept a mental note: pistol and holster, shotgun and a Henry or Spencer. He wondered wha
t a Henry was.
As he walked he thought about going to Dave’s ranch tomorrow for lessons on gun handling. He always thought there was more to Dave Rudabaugh than just an old freighter. Dave obviously had experience with firearms and Max knew it. Charlie wondered what kind of experience it was.
49
Dave’s Place
The next morning Charlie dressed in the new outfit he got from Ben’s store. The shirt and trousers were complemented by a new hat, gloves, chaps, gun and holster. Ben explained to Charlie the differences between the Henry and Spencer rifles, but also added that there wasn’t a single one available in the South. Since most of the gun manufacturers were located in the northern states, President Lincoln had outlawed the sale of all weapons to the South.
Charlie walked to the livery, paid the stable-hand and saddled the bay. “I’m gonna have to find a name for you,” he told his mount. “I can’t keep referring to you as Horse.” He climbed into the saddle. “I know! I’ll call you Archie. That’s it, then. You can be my secret alter ego.” He patted the horse’s neck.
From the stable he found the road that headed northeast. As he rode along he took in the trees and landscape. A lot of the trees were still bare from the winter months, but others showed buds of new growth signaling the approach of spring.
After about an hour, Charlie came to a smaller road that led to a rundown place. A rickety weathered fence lined one side of that road. The only thing keeping the fence standing was the vegetation intertwined in and around it. Three short round huts flanked a cabin made of logs, mud and sod. A stream of smoke rose out of a stone chimney on the side of the cabin.
Based on Max’s description, Charlie assumed this must be Dave’s ranch. He walked Archie up the trail to an open area in front of the cabin. A few Indians milled around in front of the huts and watched him approach.
“Is this Dave Rudabaugh’s place?” he asked them.