by Rita Hestand
"Blankets and whiskey."
Johnson frowned, "I saw you gave them a milk cow."
"Yes, I did."
"Can we spare it?" Johnson asked his frown showing his disproval of the trade.
"Not really, but I wasn't going to argue the point with them. Now let me ask you something."
Johnson's frown was in place.
"How many of your people have whiskey?"
Johnson was taken aback at the question. His demeanor changed. "I don't rightly know. Why do you ask?"
"Well, at some point we might have to find out. The doctors might need some, whiskey is good to have on hand for disinfecting wounds, and to knock someone out who needs surgery, but we will never trade whiskey to Indians."
"Oh? Why is that?" Johnson asked a brow going up arrogantly.
Cully paused for a moment to soak in that question. Johnson was really showing his ignorance of the Indians. Trying not to be impatient with the man, Cully wiped his face with his hand to wipe the smirk off. "Indians go a little crazy with whiskey. They can become a problem. There's an unwritten rule out here, Mr. Johnson, never give whiskey to an Indian."
"I see. But the milk cow? We need them ourselves."
"The milk cow was a necessary trade. Sometimes we must give up some things, to keep peace. We'll manage. Would you rather have the milk cow or crazed Indian?"
Johnson nodded, "Very well. You know best."
Cully glanced at Hobby who had been listening. "I don't know how he made it this far…"
"Neither do I." Hobby muttered.
The music resumed, and the dancing did too.
Cully was happy that the Indians were so easily pleased, and the people didn't make an uproar about the milk cow. He went to the chuck wagon and fed his dog. He waited until he finished his meal, then he pet his Slug with affection. "Well boy, so far so good. That Johnson fella sure is a green horn, he's got a lot to learn, maybe it's a good thing we joined up together."
Abby walked by, saw him and stopped, "You think a lot of that dog, don't you?" she asked amused at the affection he was showing him.
"It goes both ways." Cully smiled.
Cully looked up at her and his breath hitched in his throat. She was wearing a beautiful blue flowered cotton dress. It accentuated her perfect figure and made her eyes soften somehow. No woman had ever taken his breath, he mused silently, not even the prettiest of the dance hall girls.
Trying not to stare, he looked at his dog again.
"I guess I do. Never thought about it. He's been around for a long time. Where I go, he goes."
"Really, how long have you had him?"
Cully stopped scratching him and looked at her. "Well, since a few years back."
"Where did you find him?" She asked as she reached to pet him. Slug took to her immediately, licking her fingers. Cully noticed the soft smile she gave the dog. She looked so pretty bending over to pet Slug.
"I didn't find him, he found me, actually." Cully told her. He wished he wasn't so aware of her. He'd always managed to stay away from women on a wagon train, but Abby had become an exception to that rule. "You see Bertha took me in a couple of years after my folks died, "
"Bertha, the woman who owns the boarding house?" She asked.
"Yeah. I was about eight or ten when my folks died. I tried to make it on my own, almost starved to death too. Bertha she was a soft-hearted woman and took me in, gave me some responsibility and a lot of attention. Slug came along a few years later. I was cleaning out the barn and Slug just wandered in. He had a bullet him, someone decided to use him as target practice. That's why I call him Slug, I took the slug out of him and he healed. I fed him, and he never left. Then as I got older he started following me on my trips. So, you see, he's been down this trail a few times too."
Abby smiled, "I wondered about the name, kind of unusual for a dog. I like dogs, but I never had one. But I'd often see my neighbors with one and wondered how it would be to have one for a pet. They seem so loyal."
"Really, how come you never had one?" He loved it when she opened and talked about herself. She was a mystery to Cully, and he'd love to unwind all her secrets. He cleared his throat, for thinking such a thing.
"My folks thought pets were a nuisance and they weren't allowed on our property. All the animals in the barn, were work animals." She told him.
Cully studied that statement a moment. "Then I guess you think me foolish for having such an animal, huh?"
"No, actually," she stood up and stared at the dog. "I said we never were allowed. Doesn't mean I didn't want one. I especially like dogs and horses. I fed a stray once, but a few days later, it died. I suspect it was poisoned. I did my best to never get attached to an animal again. Although, I do think a lot of Butternut, my horse. I think animals are a way for humans to express love…" she said and started to walk away.
He stared up at her, his eyes capturing hers. He saw a tear in the corner of one eye and he started to say something, but Johnny walked up. God, he has bad timing.
"Hobby followed to make sure those Indians left. I guess they were satisfied with the trade." Johnny was saying.
Cully stared after Abby for a long moment before he acknowledged Johnny.
"Sorry boss, I didn't realize." Johnny smiled, "She's quite a lady, isn't she?"
That broke Cully's attention. "What?"
"Nothing, boss."
Johnny smiled and walked off.
Chapter Thirteen
As they reached Ft. Laramie, the news was not good. Cully was informed that John Gratten a young second in command had taken upon himself to attack a Sioux camp. There had been many killings and because of that the Secretary of War was planning retaliation for Gratten's death.
"I'm afraid I have not much good news for you Cully. Gratten's attack happened last year and ever since there has been raids and attacks all along the trial. Trains are not safe, people are not safe. The treaty of '51 has been broken in more ways than one and the Sioux who never signed that treaty has been raiding off and on now for a while. I advise you to move cautiously and be armed always. We've had some incidents with wagon trains too, a wagon master killed, a couple killed. It is a very unstable time here. I'm sorry I can't offer further assistance." The Colonel advised.
"No escort, huh?" Cully asked.
"Sorry, I've got a gold shipment coming in tomorrow and it has to be escorted to Ft. Leavenworth."
"Gold. Well, I guess that explains it. Thanks anyway."
Cully was anxious to move on, get out of the territory. How could he tell his people this kind of thing? This was turning into one of the worst trips he'd made. But his resolve was to get them through, somehow.
As he gathered the people together, he bowed his head thoughtfully trying to find the right words. The congregation of people stood anxious to hear the news.
"Folks, I'm not gonna lie to you, you've got some heavy decision making ahead of you. The Sioux have been raiding all up and down the Platte. It's a gamble to go on, but others are going, and I don't see any reason to turn back now. However, if there are those of you who want to stay at the fort, or go back, I'm sure arrangements can be made. The northern Cheyenne and Arapaho are relatively at peace, but some tribes of the Sioux and others are waring with each other. Not only that, but the treaty they signed has not been lived up to. The soldiers aren't directly at fault for this, Washington is. They've not delivered as promised. It's a gamble to go on. It's all up to you."
"What are our chances?" someone hollered from the back of the crowd that Cully was speaking to. Mostly men, but a few women gathered around.
"I won't lie to you. The Sioux and the Oglala's and a few others have been raiding. Mostly they are hitting the forts and the soldiers, but they have attacked a couple of trains. We might get through, and we might not."
"Why, what caused all of this? My Uncle came through last year, they made it fine." one man asked.
"Last year is when all the trouble started."
; Cully soaked the information up but shook his head.
"Alright, you've all got a right to know. It seems a man named Gratten took it upon himself to cause a war. It isn't important now, I guess. The deed is done and Gratten is dead. But the problem still lies with Washington as they want revenge for Gratten's death. They don't seem to realize who was at fault or refuse to. What we must do is arm ourselves and be ever watchful." Cully told them.
"But if they are waring, can we get through without being attacked?" one woman asked.
"We are a bigger train than some. They will hesitate once they know that we are armed and ready. Be mindful of what you say. Be watchful for trouble. Keep your guns at the ready. I want all men riding, armed. No loaded guns in the wagons." Cully warned. "But don't start anything yourself as this is how it got started in the first place. I want to stress to you that the Indians aren't entirely at fault. Grattan took it upon himself to even a score. That just created more fighting. And the revenge Washington seeks is unfounded. They don't know the truth and wouldn't know if it stared them in the face. Few of them have been out here to see what really goes on."
"Must we go on?" One woman asked.
Cully hung his head. "Staying here won't afford you any guarantee that you will survive. It is soldiers they are angry with, and already this fort and the trading post near by have been attacked. We probably have a better chance going on than staying here. But I cannot stop you from staying if that is what you want to do." Cully informed them.
"Why are they fighting so?" one asked.
"The treaty that was signed in 1851 has been broken many times over, by both sides. The Sioux never signed the treaty. There was a skirmish over a bridge and ferry at one point. After that this Gratten fella took it upon himself to show the Indians the White Power. He was wrong, but the damage was done, and can't be undone. All those who want to take a chance with the train we'll be leaving in the morning. All those wanting to stay here, make arrangements with the officer in charge." Cully walked off as the people grumbled among themselves. He knew he couldn't stop their opinions. He could only offer the truth, it was up to them how they reacted.
In the end most of the people decided to go on. Only a handful stayed at the fort. None of his original train stayed at the fort.
Cully felt proud that they wanted to go on, and he'd do his utmost to see they got through this, too.
He talked for a long while that afternoon with Hobby.
"We could go through the Cheyenne's land more peaceably, but it will be out of the way, still much safer."
"Then let's do it. Do you know their chiefs?"
"Agreed." Hobby smiled. "Dull Knife is a council chief and he seeks peace. Of this much I am sure. He's fair, and as long as we don't start shooting we have a good chance of traveling over their land."
"How much time will we lose?" Cully asked him.
"About two weeks if we go north and follow the same direction."
Cully nodded, "Good enough. We won't be stopping on Sunday's from now on, we push on, peacefully if possible."
Cully stared at Hobby, "Do you know how all of this got started?"
"Yes."
"Would you mind telling me about it?" Cully asked.
"It started over a Mormon emigrant train, when a cow strayed off and the Indians butchered it."
"Dear God, tell me that's not true!" Cully's disgust of how human nature always took command of disagreements. He shook his head and listened.
"The train complained to the army, the army went after them and there was a battle because the man responsible did not avail himself. Much as many wars, senseless. But the deaths resulted in retaliation from both the Indians and the army. Then a year later, Gratten, a junior officer left in command took it upon himself to revenge those deaths. Resulting in more deaths. It was known here that Grattan was in the wrong, but Washington wants revenge on his death, which means there will be more killing. Hopefully we can get out of here before that happens." Hobby told him. "As in any war, men lose their heads, and seek a revenge that isn't necessary."
"Will it ever stop, Hobby?" Cully asked. "Why do we continue to make treaties that Washington refuses to keep?"
"I doubt it will stop. Revenge upon revenge, never ends until someone seeks peace. The Indians and the whites are both a proud people. So, it goes on. The Sioux are a proud bunch. They never signed the treaty and they were right about that. But they continue their stealing ways which wins them no favor."
"I'm sorry Hobby. I guess all of this puts you kind of in the middle."
Hobby nodded. "Too bad we are not the leaders. But as for the middle, I chose my side long ago. Although, I do not believe the white man is right in some circumstance, I know the stubborn ways of the Indian people too. Washington is the real enemy, they speak with a forked tongue." Hobby chuckled.
"Who are the Cheyenne chiefs."
"It would be good to talk with Little Wolf and Dull Knife, as they are the wisest and more peaceful chiefs."
"Good, let's hope we can find them and get safe passage through their lands, then. I like the idea of rising above the problems here. Let them battle it out, it's not our war."
"It will not be an easy task, but Dull Knife is a peaceful council chief and he could persuade Little Wolf to let us through without much trouble." Hobby grunted. "We must get out of the way of the soldiers and the Sioux. The blood runs thick between them. And aside from that Cholera is hitting the trains hard and we do not want that either."
"I agree. Let's roll. And Hobby, see if you can locate these chiefs and make a bargain, we won't linger on their lands, we just want to get out of the way of the army and the Sioux. We do not want war."
"Now?"
"Now." Cully sighed.
Hobby nodded and sent word to Johnny and the other men.
"We're leaving now?" Johnny looked a bit surprised.
"Before more war breaks out." Hobby informed him.
Johnny nodded slowly. "I guess you got a point."
The people were shocked that their stay at Ft. Laramie wouldn't last long, but the look on every man's face said it was necessary.
When their trail veered northward everyone seemed concerned. Johnson was quick to ask. "We aren't on the Platte any longer. Why are we going north?"
Cully stared at the man. He knew this question would come up, and he hadn't taken the time to discuss it with Johnson before making the change in route. Admittedly, Cully was used to sharing all the information with this man, and he knew if they were to get along, he would have to.
"Johnson," Cully dismounted and hobbled his horse next to a wagon when they stopped for a noon meal. "It's a fair question, and I hadn't time to discuss the change with you. I should have taken the time to discuss it, I was wrong there, however, things are in a bad way at Ft. Laramie and we needed to get out of here. The Sioux have been raiding the fort, the supply stores, everywhere, and even a few trains, which I didn't want to mention and cause a stir among our people. It was too dangerous to remain, and this new route will keep us from two things."
"Oh, and what is that?" Johnson listened with a doubtful ear.
"We'll be on Cheyenne land, and right now, they are peaceful. That's the first reason, the second reason is that Cholera is spreading from one train to the next. I wanted to avoid both of those things. Look, we are traveling in a dangerous time Johnson. The Sioux are warring with the army. Despite the '51 treaty, the Sioux hadn't joined in that agreement and there have been raids and attacks of trains. Hobby and I have discussed this at length and we have decided for the sake of safety we would veer to the Cheyenne territory long enough to get out of the way of the warring parties. It will cut us short of a week or two, but it could save the lives of our train. And I'll do anything to get us all through." Cully informed him.
"But won't that set us back too far?"
"A bit, yes. But Cheyenne are relatively peaceful right now. If we travel their land, we might get through without losing anyone. And by not st
opping on Sunday's we can make up part of the time." Cully informed him.
"But you've already agreed to stop on Sunday's." Johnson protested.
"I also made mention unless it endangers our journey, and, in this case, it would behoove us to travel on Sundays to make up our time."
"But we do minor repairs and rest on Sundays."
"Mr. Johnson, the decision was made after talking to the commanding officer at the fort. He could not spare an escort to Ft. Hall. And by starting immediately out of Ft. Laramie, we've gained a couple of days for that too. As lead wagon master I made the decision alone, Mr. Johnson, for the safety of all the train." Cully told him with a slight frown.
"But won't we have to reach Independence Rock by the fourth of July?"
"That's the usual rule, but this is not the usual circumstance."
"Perhaps time doesn't matter to you so much since your going to California, to the gold fields." Johnson scrutinized him.
Cully knew it was time to take a stand. "I'm not arguing with you Mr. Johnson. I've made the decision based on the safety of all the train. By traveling every Sunday, the time can be made up easily. And Hobby will speak with the Cheyenne chiefs for us for safe travel."
"I have no voice in this in other words?" Johnson's voice rose a notch.
"Yes, you do. You can take your party and go down the Platte, but we won't be with you." Cully informed him. "And I must warn you, if you go, you will encounter the Cholera whether you like it or not. And that, is not something you can fight."
Johnson's face turned white. "Is this the only option?"
"Yes, I'm afraid it is. If you want to pull your wagons out, I suggest you do it now. The Cholera is just one more danger you will face."
Johnson stalked off, without another word.
He was upset, and Cully knew it, but there was little he could do about it. Johnson did have a choice. It was up to him, and his people.
Abby heard most of the conversation and walked up to him. "He isn't very happy, is he?"
Just looking at those soft brown eyes warmed him. Still, he couldn't let her see that.