by Jake Logan
“No.”
“I would hate to . . . force you to do anything against your beliefs.” Tears spilled down her face.
“You won’t do that.”
“Take me to bed then. Maybe there I can forget this whole thing. I am sorry I’m so reckless, but ten years ago, some Sioux bucks captured me. They were on the move, and I rode on my belly over one of their horses a very long ways. Some brave men intercepted them and rescued me. I was shaking this bad that night. One of the men took me to his bedroll and engaged me in sex and I recovered. I don’t cheat on Kelly, but in this case even he would agree—I need some relief.” She clenched her teeth and quaked under his hands on her shoulders.
“We can do that. Should I undress you?”
“Help me, please.”
He bolted the door and turned back to undo the buttons down the front of her dress. They were small buttons and many. She undid his gun belt and hung it on the ladder-back chair she had set back up. His hat she put on the other chair post.
The dress unbuttoned, he pushed it off her shoulders and slung it on the table. Next, she undid the waist and took off some of her slips. She stood in a thin slip that went below her knees. His boots toed off, he started on his shirt buttons. She helped, and he had to stop to hold her until she quit shaking so hard. Finally, he was undressed. Covers thrown back, she went to the bed, climbed under the sheet, and pulled it up to her neck.
He lifted the sheet and slid in beside her. Under the covers, he moved her slip up over her waist. He guessed her to be in her late twenties. When he pushed the slip up over her pear-shaped breasts, her entire body trembled under his hands.
With eyes squeezed shut, she held her hands at her sides closed so tight her knuckles were white. He rose to his knees over her and kissed her lips, but she didn’t respond. With care, he gently moved her legs apart and climbed between them. Her trembling body shook the bed. His tool nosed gently into her, and her mouth opened. His slow application of force increased her breathing, and then her knees rose to help him. Her arms went around him and she pulled him down on top of her.
He was concerned he might mash her as their bodies melted into one. She turned from a numb, trembling body into a hot lover and wanted him as close as she could get him. It was a fiery match that made the bedsprings creak and went on and on, until in the last flaming moments they collapsed in a pile.
“Thank you.”
“I don’t want you relapsing.” He noted how calm she had become and the faint smile on her face.
“I suppose. We could do it again.”
He kissed her until they were off again. This time, she kissed him back, and they had an even wilder session that almost made the bed smoke. In the end, he kissed her and reluctantly climbed out of bed and dressed. She wrapped herself in a sheet to trail him to the front door and thank him for his tender feelings for her.
He kissed her good-bye, then went to find his horse. In the saddle on Sitting Bull, he paused by the yard fence covered in vines. She stood on the porch with a shawl around her. He gave her a nod and she returned it. Then he loped Bull off toward the cottonwoods and the Bozeman Trail.
His wagon train waited for him. He rode by the hatless, silent, horse thief with his stocking feet two feet off the ground and a knotted noose beside his left ear. He’d never steal another one, that was certain.
Slocum was back to the wagons before his scouts got back. The two wounded men were sleeping. His man Lacey met him.
“You find him?”
“Yes. The scouts took the money back to the worst injured man and the horse back to the cowboy. They’ll be along.”
“Our two men told us what he did. Did he give you a fight at the end?”
“No, he hid, using a nice lady as a hostage.”
“Snow has food for you.” Lacey nodded. “I imagine you’re tired?”
“I’ll be fine.” Snow came over with a plate of food, and he hugged her.
“I am glad you are safe,” she said.
He sat down on a crate and took the plate of food. She gave him a fork and knife. Pleased to see her, he smiled and took them. “Thanks.”
“Anything else happen?” he asked his man.
“I’m wondering how those two will drive their teams,” said Lacey.
“There are some helpers can drive them, or the scouts can, until they heal. We’re far enough south we should be safe from hostile tribes attacking us.”
“I imagine we can do that.”
“Tomorrow, we’ll start south again. Winter’s coming.”
Lacey agreed.
Slocum knew his man had no wish to winter the wagon train in the deep snow of middle Nebraska. They still might make it unscathed back to Omaha. He planned it that way. In a week to ten days they’d be in Fort Laramie. Then they’d turn east on the worn path back to the big city on the Missouri River.
That road was a strip of land depleted by all the western-bound settlers’ wagon trains. Feed would be short on this route and firewood impossible to obtain. The westbound traffic had stripped the country of both grass and fuel for almost a ten-mile swath from Omaha to Fort Laramie. Slocum could recall the once seven-foot-tall prairie grasses that had to be cut so the surveyors could lay out the train tracks. Those plants no longer existed—wiped out by feet and time.
In places, he’d be forced to cross the Platte and take less-used routes that paralleled the river over there. The flow was low this time of year, but it still required lots more work to switch sides. If the renegade Indians weren’t bad enough, he still had to get the train back and Snow back to her people.
Later, when the two were in bed, she asked if he was too tired to make love. He laughed. “Why, not for you, girl.”
He gathered her in his arms and kissed her with all his effort. No need to let her down. She expected his attention. It was up to him, and he knew how.
7
They finally reached Fort Laramie, a hot, dusty place, in early September. They camped out on the Laramie River, where there was better feed for the draft animals, but they had to bring them back to camp each evening. Slocum set up guard duty, for at this point horse thieves would be the greatest danger. No one wanted the stinking hides; there were plenty of them out there anyway. He told the boys herding the stock to keep moving them to better feed.
He and Snow rode into the fort. He intended to talk to the commander and secure any information he might have on where her father and the rest of the band were being held. So that the authorities couldn’t arrest her, she stayed with some tame Indians he knew until the meeting was over.
A few hours later, post commander Colonel Anderson allowed him a meeting. “What can I do for you, Slocum?”
“Colonel, I understand the Cheyenne band of Man of Pipes is being held through the winter at the Sioux Agency or Fort Robinson before being taken to Fort Reno in the Indian Territory. Is that the plan for them?”
“I think that’s the plan. They gathered up about seventy-five individuals—men, women and children—and took them over there before sending them south next spring. They have the reservation set up near the fort. I don’t think the Cheyenne will stay down there, but if they try to run, they will be close to a military facility.”
“They won’t get down there next year until it’s too late to plant food.”
Anderson stood and looked out the window at the marching field. “Obviously, you know that. But we have gotten so much bad publicity over the years about moving aborigines in the wintertime, I’m certain that’s why they won’t move them until the spring thaw.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you have a case of losses you wish to charge them with?”
“No, sir. But I spoke to a tribal member who wishes to return to his people. He sent me to ask if they would be there, if he went there this fall.”
Anderson nodde
d. “They are there for all winter. Supplies have already been hauled up there to feed them.”
“Thanks.”
Anderson turned to him. “Will your friend go up there and join them?”
“I think he will. Yes, he plans to. Thanks again, sir.”
“You’re very welcome. He must be a real friend to send you here to ask me.”
“Yes, he is. I was concerned for him.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Freighting hides back to Omaha.”
Anderson nodded that he understood. “Have any trouble on the Bozeman?”
“Yes, that band struck my train, but they lost more than we did.”
“Have a safe journey. We need more tough people like you.”
• • •
Slocum recovered Snow from the tame Indians, and they rode back to his camp.
“What did you learn?” she asked, riding beside him.
“Your people are at Fort Robinson. That is a large Sioux reservation of Chief Red Cloud. They will be there all winter. They already have food supplies up there for them. In the spring, like I said, the army will take them to the Indian Territory near Fort Reno.”
“That makes me sad. But you were brave to go ask about them.”
“He wouldn’t eat me.”
She laughed, but traces of tears were on her lashes. He rode in close, leaned over and kissed her. “Don’t cry. You’re a brave young woman.”
“Thank you, my big man. Could I go there myself and join them?”
“No. You might get harmed. Lots of cruel people there who wouldn’t respect you.”
“I am happy riding with you, but I really belong with my people.”
“Good. Now we know where they are and will be, I’ll find a way to return you to them.”
“Good. I know you have been concerned and I thank you.”
“No, you’re such wonderful company, I’ll hate to lose you.”
“That’s good.”
They topped the rise and saw smoke. It was a prairie fire on a wide front. The wagons sat right in the path, and the horses to pull them out of the way were off somewhere grazing.
“I better get down there and do something.” He set heels to Sitting Bull, and they raced for the wagons. The camp was set up close to the river, but considering the direction the fire was coming from, it would be no barrier to it.
He slid Bull to a stop and leaped off. “Get some buckets and wet down the grass south of the camp. We’ll need to set a backfire to stop that fire from burning us down.”
Men standing with wet burlap sacks dropped them and went to dipping water out of the barrels and throwing it over the nearby grass on the approaching-fire side of the camp.
The dark, billowing, ominous smoke and five-foot-high flames were coming fast on the wind. Lacey joined him, trying to get the grass past the wet spots to burn.
“Snow, go get a dry burlap sack and some kerosene. This is way too slow,” he shouted.
Lacey agreed and said, “I’ll get a rope to tie it on.”
“Right.” Slocum squatted on his boot heels and cupped the small blaze he was trying to start in some dry bunchgrass. The task was too slow. Maybe his fire drag would do the trick.
Someone brought his saddled horse. He undid the lariat, and Snow arrived with Lacey and tied the sack on his rope.
“Now, this may start more fire than we need. So have the men ready to beat that out on the start—we need a dead zone around us.”
Lacey and Snow agreed with him, and she doused the sack in coal oil.
“That’s good,” Lacey said to him. “Get on Sitting Bull and I’ll ignite it.”
Slocum swung into the saddle and tore out with his flaming trailer to the west, swung around to go east, and the grass behind caught on fire. Then he rode some south and drew another fire line across the land to burn up to his first one.
The crew beat out the first lane before it grew big enough to flare, and the fire was spreading south. The smoke was getting worse off the main fire, so Slocum drew his kerchief up over his nose and kicked Bull in the sides to keep him running. At last, satisfied with his progress, he tossed the rope and raced for the camp. The fire line was going to work. They’d have to fight any flames that licked past it, but they could control it from there on around their wagons.
Off his horse, he drank a dipper of water, joined by Lacey and Snow.
“Whew, without this, our efforts would never’ve been enough,” Lacey said. “It would have overrun us and burned the wagons to the ground.”
Slocum agreed. “We’ve got it done. Thank everyone.”
Smoke coming off the wildfire was soon bad in camp. Everyone was coughing. He hugged Snow to his side. “We’re tough firefighters, huh?”
“Yes, such a fire burned up a dozen of our tepees once up on the Big Horns. We never thought to start a fire to stop one. Squaws were so afraid they got on horses and rode away. My father was so mad when he and the hunters returned.”
“I would have been mad, too. But this wasn’t my first prairie fire either to outrun or fight.”
Close to dark, the men and the horses and mules returned. They were surprised the camp hadn’t burned, and also relieved.
Slocum’s lead driver said, “We drove the horses across the river and I kept saying, ‘That damn fire probably burned our rigs up.’ Glad you all fought it.”
“It damn sure wasn’t easy,” one of the men said, and they all laughed.
Jasper and Snow had supper ready. The big man announced, “Smoked buffalo.”
More laughing.
• • •
After the meal, the two of them went to Slocum’s wagon. Once they were inside, he hugged her tight, noting that they both stunk like the dead fire. But he didn’t care. They’d saved the wagons for another day. He planned to soon head east. With luck, in another month they’d be back in Omaha. The shortage of feed for his stock on this next leg of the journey worried him more than anything.
He lifted the dress off over her head and outstretched arms. There, in the darkness, his precious present for the evening stood unwrapped. Having her along would sure make the days shorter.
• • •
Morning was cracking the horizon with rosy sunlight even before the fiery ball rose over the land. Headed east toward home, they passed the empty fort parade ground in a cloud of dust raised by iron rims and hooves. Slocum sat his stout horse, and Snow rode a bay at the head of the convoy. Johnson had gone ahead earlier to look for a place to stop midday to let the animals graze that afternoon.
His goal was to make twenty miles a day. Whether his goal would be met or not depended on being able to find a suitable source of forage for the stock each day.
Even this early in the day, clouds were moving in. It might rain somewhere over in Nebraska. They still had some miles to go in Wyoming before reaching that line. But the farther east they went, the greater the chance of rain. That could be good or bad. Enough to stimulate grass growing was ideal. Too much, and mud would be an anchor to slow them down. What the hell did he care? He had supplies enough to get back and Snow to share his bed.
Riding his crop-eared horse in a jog in her company, he could smile all day in relief. Living high on the hog, his pappy would have said.
8
They reached the Nebraska line the third day and waited for a long herd of longhorn cattle to pass by, headed north. The man who owned them, Jim Duggan of Kerrville, Texas, wore a trail-dusted business suit and a wide-brimmed hat. He stopped to talk to Slocum. Duggan tipped his hat to Snow and smiled.
“She makes pretty scenery up here. Where you been?”
“Billings, Montana.”
“That’s a fur piece.”
“Where you heading?”
“A ranch in South Dakota. I knew it would b
e a helluva long haul, but I’ve been on this drive since March. They stole my remuda once. Of course, the Kansas authority turned me around and sent me back south—tick fever, they said. I rounded the curve to go up to Ogallala, and that trail was choked with cattle and no feed, so I went west. Drier out there, but we made it here.”
“Sounds tough enough. We fought Indians on the Bozeman, and prairie fires.”
“Ain’t no easy turn in this business out here. I left a new woman expecting our first child. She’s got family there. But I can’t help her. I was planning to be back home to help her, and here I am two months from her delivery time, and then two months out from being home as well.”
“Good luck to you, partner.”
“Nice to meet you, Slocum. You too, missy.” He rode on, the herd finally passed, and they went on as well.
So far, Johnson had found them enough grass every evening to sustain the animals. If they couldn’t find grass as they moved on, Slocum planned to buy grain.
“Can we stop in Ogallala?” Lacey asked him.
“If we can rent or find pasture enough to catch the animals up.”
“Let’s send Johnson ahead to find it. We all need some rest and a little fun.”
“Sure. Whethers or Indian Joe can also be the grass scout.”
“Maybe send all of them. Johnson has done a super job so far.”
Slocum agreed.
• • •
Plans were made that evening in camp. The scouts redeployed, and Jasper was to get a list of needed supplies to be ordered and ready for Slocum before they got to town. The rest of the men smiled at word of a layover.
Some squaw showed up after dark and quietly sold her ass to as many men as had money. She got a quarter a trip, which was highway robbery—most of them only charged a dime. She left, limping her away across the prairie before dawn with her leather purse full. In the predawn light, Slocum watched a buck come to meet her and bring a horse for her to belly up on. They rode off as prosperous Indians, and Slocum chuckled.
The scouts were back in forty-eight hours. Johnson had leased enough grass for the teams and a place to camp with a windmill to pump fresh water for ten bucks a day. Slocum thanked him. Two or three days wouldn’t kill them. Now, if all his men made it back to camp still fit, he’d enjoy his part of the deal.
