Bear Claws

by Robert Lee Murphy

  “Well now, what is it ye’ll be wanting me to do?” Paddy asked.

  Kavanagh blew a smoke ring across his desk. “Right now I’ve got to get ready to move out of Cheyenne. It’s just a matter of days until the UP finishes laying track over Sherman Summit and heads down to Laramie. I want to be there ahead of them.”

  Paddy spat another stream at the spittoon, wiped a dangling string of tobacco from his lip, and waited for Kavanagh’s instructions. When Hell on Wheels moved to Laramie he’d be closer to Sean Corcoran. He knew the surveyor and his team were working out ahead of the track layers. If there was one thing Paddy wanted to do even more than get away from Kavanagh, it was revenge on Corcoran—and Homer Garcon, the former nigger slave—not to mention Corcoran’s nephew, Will Braddock. Yes, Corcoran, Garcon, and Braddock had been the cause of a lot of grief for Paddy, and he intended to even the score.

  “Get out of here for now,” Kavanagh said. “Don’t go far. I’ll let you know when I need you.”

  Paddy nodded. “Sure, and I’ll be around.”

  When Paddy opened the office door he confronted Sally Whitworth and Elspeth McNabb.

  “Ah, now, darlin’s, what a lovely sight ye be. ’Tis nice of ye to come to greet me.”

  “Get out of the way, you slimy Mick,” Sally said. The pretty redhead had been Kavanagh’s favorite for as long as Paddy had been working at the Lucky Dollar. He wondered if Sally was aware Mort might replace her in that spot with Elspeth. He’d seen the lovely blonde secretly caress Mort when she didn’t think anyone was looking.

  CHAPTER 6

  Will’s teeth chattered. He’d never known what cold was before. If goose bumps could have goose bumps, he was sure his had them. The flow of the North Platte bumped chunks of ice against him. His hat had stayed on because he’d tied the bandana around it to keep his ears warm, but he’d dropped his carbine into the river.

  “Will. You hear me, Will?”

  It took a moment for Will to realize that someone was standing on the bank looking down at him. “Y . . . yes,” he stammered.

  Bullfrog Charlie Munro, the old mountain man, extended a hand to him. “Come on. You gotta get out of the river.”

  Will shook his head. His lips trembled. “Can’t . . . leg . . . trap.”

  “Leg? Trap?”

  “Umm-hmm.”

  “Yer leg’s caught in a trap?”

  Will nodded.

  “Hold on there.” Bullfrog stepped into the river in front of Will. He slid down into the water, up to his neck. Will heard the old man’s labored breathing as he struggled against the cold. He felt Bullfrog’s hands search down his legs.

  “Agh!” He winced when Bullfrog’s hand hit the top of the trap that clamped his ankle. Then Bullfrog inserted his thumbs between Will’s leg and the jaws and pried them apart. The pain eased.

  “Put yer hands on my shoulders, Will. Lift yer leg outta there while I hold it open.”

  Will lifted his leg clear of the trap. He heard a muffled snap when Bullfrog let go of the jaws. The mountain man wrapped his arms around Will’s waist and hauled him up onto the bank.

  “Let’s take a look at that leg.”

  Will lay on the bank shivering while Bullfrog examined him. The mountain man’s slouch hat covered thick white hair that flowed over his shoulders. His full mustache obscured his mouth, making it impossible to see his lips move when he spoke. His beard reminded Will of a picture he’d seen once of the Prophet Moses.

  “Yer boot took most of the blow. Can’t tell if the jaws’ teeth broke the skin, or not. But I don’t wanna take yer boot off out here. Got to get you to the cabin.”

  “Ruby.” Will pointed up the slope.

  “Yer mule?”

  Will nodded.

  “Yeah, I see her. Heard her first. Right after I heard a shot, she started braying like she was trying to send a signal. I figured it weren’t no Indian. So I come a looking.”

  Will could see Bullfrog shivering. “You’re wet and cold, too,” Will said.

  “Yep. That’s for sure. I’m gonna rig up a travois for Ruby to drag you upriver a piece to my cabin. I got an old raft I use to cross the river there. Cabin’s on the other side.”

  Bullfrog drew a large knife from his belt and attacked a nearby sapling. “Ruby’ll get wet though. She’ll have to swim. But it ain’t too wide there.”

  The sun had set by the time Bullfrog got Will to the cabin. The mountain man untied the travois and lowered the two poles that comprised the sled’s sides onto the ground behind Ruby. From flat on his back, Will watched Bullfrog lead Ruby into a lean-to stable attached to the cabin, tie the mule alongside two horses, and kick some fodder in front of her.

  Bullfrog helped Will rise from the travois and hop into the cabin, where he assisted Will out of his wet clothes and boots. Before changing into dry clothes himself, the old man cleaned Will’s ankle, applied a poultice that smelled strongly of sage, and wrapped the wound with a bandage.

  A fire blazing in a rock fireplace warmed the one-room home of the mountain man. Bullfrog draped their wet garments over three-legged stools in front of the hearth and upended their boots over stakes he drove into the dirt floor near the fire.

  Will huddled under a buffalo robe on a cot. He’d almost stopped shivering. He watched Bullfrog hang a kettle on an iron hook suspended from a bar that spanned the fireplace opening.

  “This here stew’ll be hot right soon.” The old man looked back at Will. “It’ll get yer insides warmed up.”

  Will held up the eagle talon he wore suspended around his neck on a leather thong. “Bullfrog, I think Lone Eagle’s talon brought you to my aid.”

  “Well, maybe . . . maybe not. But it didn’t keep you from stepping in that old trap. Sorry ’bout that. I forgot where it was. I always marked ’em with a stake, so I could go back and find ’em . . . but that stake must’ve got knocked over somehow. With the beaver all gone from these parts, I don’t keep traps set no more. I reckon that ole trap’s been there for years.”

  Bullfrog spooned stew from the kettle into a wooden bowl and brought it and a carved bone spoon to Will. “Sit up there a spell so’s you can eat this. Swing that leg out from under that robe, and let me have a look at it.”

  Bullfrog unwrapped the bandage and inspected the puncture wounds on either side of the ankle where the trap’s teeth had penetrated the skin. “I’m gonna replace that poultice with a fresh one. Ground up sage works wonders getting the swelling down. Star Dancer, she was Long Eagle’s mom, taught me that old Indian trick.”

  Bullfrog replaced the poultice and bandage while Will ate.

  “How’s that antelope stew?”

  “Good.” Will set the empty bowl on the cot beside him and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Bullfrog handed Will a strip of bark. “Chew on this. Something about willow bark helps a body heal. Let’s see if you can stand on that leg.”

  Will pushed himself up from the edge of the cot. “Ow!” He immediately took the weight off his left leg.

  “I’ll whittle you a crutch. Reckon it’ll be a spell afore you’ll be walking regular like. If yer boots hadn’t been sturdy, that trap would’ve cut a lot deeper . . . maybe even broke the bone.”

  Bullfrog reached up to a peg on the wall behind him and retrieved a buckskin coat. He handed it to Will. “Here, put this on. Keep you warm while yer clothes is drying.”

  Will slipped into the knee-length jacket. He ran his hands over the leather and rippled the fringe that extended down the outside seams of each arm and encircled the bottom hem. “This is really soft,” he said.

  “Star Dancer made that for Lone Eagle. But the boy growed out of it so fast, it ain’t hardly been worn. Been hanging on the wall there ever since he went away to that boarding school.”

  Will fingered the buttery leather and fastened the coat across his front with its four leather ties. There weren’t any pockets in the coat, but he could remedy that problem by carrying a haversack t
o hold his knife, flint, and other odds and ends.

  “Star Dancer chewed that antelope hide for days to make it real soft. Just like she did when she made this work shirt for me.” He brushed his hands down his worn, buckskin shirt, then sighed. “She made the dress she’s wearing on her burial scaffold out there behind the cabin, too. She was right handy at making clothes.”

  Will eased himself back down onto the edge of the cot.

  “Why don’t you keep that?” Bullfrog said. “Looks real nice on you.”

  “Maybe Lone Eagle will want it.”

  “Too small for him, now. I reckon, Star Dancer would be mighty proud to have you wear it, seeing as how you saved her son from the quicksand last year.”

  “Thank you, Bullfrog.” The buckskin coat was certainly more impressive than the old wool jacket the railroad had given him. “I’ll be honored.”

  “Now you jest lay down there and rest. Need to get your strength back. Don’t you worry ’bout nothing.”

  Will had promised Homer he’d return not later than tomorrow night with food. He’d failed. What was he to do? But he was too tired to think about it now. He pulled the buffalo robe up beneath his chin and closed his eyes.

  CHAPTER 7

  Will hobbled out the door of the cabin on the crutch Bullfrog had fashioned for him the evening before. Snow covered the ground, but the early morning sun felt warm against his face. Fluffy clouds scudded across a brilliant, blue sky. The blizzard had finally blown itself out.

  He wore a pair of Bullfrog’s moccasins. His swollen ankle wouldn’t fit into his boot. He leaned on the crutch and wiggled his left leg. It wasn’t as painful as it’d been yesterday. Bullfrog had replaced the bandage and changed the sage poultice again this morning. The swelling was going down. If he could just put weight on the leg. He needed to get back to the surveyors’ camp. He’d told Homer when he’d left camp yesterday morning he’d be back by tonight. What would his uncle think of his actions? He’d refused to take Homer’s advice—now he was injured and unable to help his teammates.

  His clumsiness had caused him to fail. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry to get a shot at that antelope, he wouldn’t have fallen into the river. If he’d just taken a little more time, been more deliberate, he could have bagged that buck and been on his way back with it. Instead, he had nothing to take to his sick companions at Rawlins Springs.

  Bullfrog appeared from around the side of the cabin. “Just watered and fed the animals. A little crowded in the lean-to with two horses and the mule . . . but Ruby’s getting along fine with Minnie and Ida.” He set a bucket down by the cabin’s door. “And how’re you doing this morning?”

  “Better. I can get around on the crutch. Thanks for making it.”

  Bullfrog waved a hand. “Yer welcome. Now, you just gotta rest so’s you can get back to yer team in a couple of days.”

  “I’ve got to get back to the camp now. I promised Homer I’d be back there tonight . . . with food.”

  “Well, yer not fit to be going anyplace.”

  “I can’t let them starve. The food was about gone when I left. I don’t know when Uncle Sean will make it back and Homer will think I’ve been killed. I have to get food to them.”

  Bullfrog looked steadily at Will for a moment, then sighed. “I’ll go. I’ve got a haunch of elk I can take.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that, Bullfrog.”

  “You don’t have no choice.” Bullfrog surveyed the sky. “Weather’s fine now. Sun’s gonna start melting the snow. I can ride Minnie, and I reckon Ruby can lug the elk.”

  “I was hoping to take some feed for our horses, too.”

  “I’ll pack some fodder along.”

  “And Homer wanted me to bring willow bark for Otto and Joe. He thought it’d help them get over the fever.”

  “He’s right about that. I’ve got extra willow bark.”

  “Thanks, Bullfrog.”

  “I reckon I best get packed up, then. I can make it there by nightfall, for sure. Probably can’t make it back tonight though. You be all right by yerself?”

  “Yes.”

  “You said yer camp’s just this side of the Divide, right on the line of them survey stakes. Rawlins Springs you called it?”

  “Right. You’ll see a white, Army wall tent and six horses, including Buck. His black coat will stand out against the snow more than the tent will.”

  “Oh, I don’t reckon I’ll have trouble finding the camp. That spring’s been known to the Indians and trappers out here for years. Stopped by there many a time. It just never had no name afore.”

  Will dropped his eyes and felt himself flush. Why had he thought it necessary to tell the old mountain man how to find the camp? He looked back up. He couldn’t see Bullfrog’s lips, but he could tell he was smiling the way the bushy mustache curled up at the ends.

  CHAPTER 8

  Jenny rode astride her horse beside Lieutenant Luey Moretti. She’d given up riding sidesaddle, which she’d done in Virginia. Here on the frontier it was more practical to emulate the ways of men when it came to riding. Plus, riding like a man gave her more control over the animal in the rugged terrain. Her father had taught her before the war how to handle horses—grooming, saddling, and feeding them. At the Big Laramie home station, Jenny often lent a hand with the stock. She could harness the stagecoach teams as well as anybody.

  “There it is.” Moretti pointed to a sprawl of buildings and tents in the valley below them. “Cheyenne.”

  “Why it looks just like Julesburg,” Jenny said.

  “Hell on Wheels looks the same no matter where it is.” Moretti turned in his saddle toward the column of troopers who rode behind him. “Sergeant Winter!”

  From the rear of the column of a dozen cavalrymen a horseman galloped forward. He pulled up beside the lieutenant. “Sir?” Sergeant Winter saluted.

  Moretti returned the salute. “Take the detachment on to the fort, Sergeant. I’ll escort Miss McNabb into town.”

  “Yes, sir.” The sergeant wheeled his horse about. “Detachment! Left turn. Ho!” The column of twos turned to the north and rode cross-country to where Fort D. A. Russell could be seen two miles northwest of Cheyenne.

  Wells Fargo was transferring Jenny’s father from Big Laramie to the home station at North Platte Crossing, eighty miles farther west. Jenny had convinced her father she should make an attempt to get Elspeth to return to the family before they increased the distance between themselves and the Lucky Dollar Saloon where Elspeth had worked since the preceding fall. With no stage traffic between Cheyenne and Laramie, Jenny hooked up with Moretti’s cavalry detachment. Her father wouldn’t let her make the two-day trip by herself.

  Last night the detachment camped with Grady Shaughnessy’s construction crew near Sherman Summit, the highest point the railroad must cross in the Laramie Range. The tracks now extended well beyond Cheyenne and would reach the summit in a matter of days. Shaughnessy had told them General Dodge planned a spike-driving ceremony to commemorate the momentous occasion and had even telegraphed a request for Sean Corcoran and his team to join him there.

  Jenny had thought a lot about where Will might be ever since Corcoran had left Big Laramie three days ago. She prayed Corcoran had found Will and his team safe and well.

  After descending the slope into the new town, Moretti and Jenny reigned in before the Lucky Dollar Saloon.

  Moretti tugged on one side of his mustache to straighten it. “Jenny, you sure you’ll be all right by yourself?”

  “I’ll be fine, Luey. Elspeth and I may have differing opinions about where our lives should go, but we’re still sisters. She won’t hurt me . . . and she won’t let anybody else hurt me, either.”

  “Where will you stay tonight?”

  “They have a hotel here. I’ll get a room. I can take care of myself.” She lifted back the skirt of her jacket to reveal a pocket revolver stuck in her waistband. She’d bought the Colt Model 1849, .31-caliber pistol, a favorite of women,
from an itinerant peddler with some of her earnings from preparing meals for the Wells Fargo passengers.

  Moretti smiled. “Guess you’re right. If you could withstand the rigors of captivity in a Cheyenne camp, you ought to be able to fend for yourself in a hotel.”

  “I can.” She returned his smile. “But thanks for worrying.”

  “We’ll head back to Laramie in the morning. I’ll finish my business with Colonel Stevenson this afternoon while Sergeant Winter and the men gather up the resupply items. You’ll ride back with us?”

  “Yes. Papa and Duncan plan to go on to North Platte Crossing day after tomorrow. I told Papa I’d be back to travel with them. That’s the only way he’d agree to let me come to talk to Elspeth.”

  Moretti waved her a smart salute and rode away. Jenny dismounted and tied her horse to a hitching rail in front of the Lucky Dollar Saloon. She crossed the board sidewalk, entered through the swinging bat-wing doors, and spotted her sister immediately.

  Elspeth’s blonde hair stood out in the drab confines of the tent-like structure that served as the saloon’s dance hall. She was serving drinks to two scruffy men seated at a table near the back. When Elspeth turned away from the table, Jenny locked eyes with her sister and crossed the hard-packed dirt floor toward her.

  “You look like a man, Jenny.” Elspeth wrinkled her nose, shook her shoulder-length curls, and sniffed. “And smell like a horse.”

  “I just spent two days riding over the mountains to see you, Elspeth, and I certainly wasn’t going to do it in a dress. Besides, I work at a stagecoach station and have to help shovel the manure.”

  Elspeth’s bright red dress barely extended beneath her knees. Her calves were bare down to the tops of her high-button shoes.

  “Don’t you think that dress is a little revealing?” Jenny reached out and pulled up the neckline of Elspeth’s low-cut dress.