by Lynn Landes
Killing the soldier was not difficult. He was dying, and Steven decided it was a kindness to put him down. The surprise in Simon’s eyes almost made him laugh. He suffocated him, and he didn’t even fight back.
Walking to the railyard, he oversees the cases being loaded. It’s a shame to waste such high-quality weapons, and two Gatling guns, but he has no qualms about his cause. The land needs to be cleansed. His eyes narrow as he remembers coming home to find his wife and son scalped. He presses his hands to his temples and squeezes as he tells himself to block it out.
“No, no, not now…” he murmurs. A shout reminds him where he’s standing, and he turns to find a certain Widow who has a thing for doctors. He is whistling when he walks away.
General Barclay stares at the map and traces a finger down the railroad line. “The train will be leaving as soon as the snow stops. It will be hit by Indians, and more guns will be stolen. It only helped our cause that the Shoshone were raiding and taking weapons anyway. Too bad they didn’t know how to use them. This time it will be… which tribe?” He glances up at the eight men standing around him and waits.
“Sioux?” Barclay asks.
“Does it matter?” A burst of laughter ripples through the group.
“No. The Shoshone are decimated. Whoever is left will run North, to the proposed reservations. The next largest tribes should be our target.”
“General, all joking aside, there is talk that the Sioux and Cherokee are joining together to fight back.” Wallace Morgan points at the map outside of Fort Caspar. “Look what they did to Fort Caspar. It has been abandoned for two years since the massacre.”
“Exactly, Wallace, they were unprepared. All the Forts need more soldiers, more weapons and more people willing to do whatever it takes to get the work done.”
Murmurs of approval flow through the group. “Any news on the Senators agreeing to support the cause?” Wallace asks.
“No, and that’s why I’ll be leaving to take the news to them directly.” General Barclay replies, “I will present multiple eyewitnesses to the massacre of the city of? What’s this one called?”
“Worland, its population is about three hundred and fifty civilians. With the railroad head, it’s a growing town. They won’t be expecting the attack.”
“Are we sure this is what needs to happen?” A lawyer named Thomas Crowder asks.
“We are called upon to make hard choices, Thomas. Your own father, a member of the Senate, agreed. Hundreds of lives to save thousands. It seems harsh and it is, but we can be part of bringing security to the mass of people moving into the West.”
Thomas nods, “When you put it like that, it does make sense.”
“With this last shipment of supplies, we will have enough to make sure no one escapes?” Wallace asks.
“Yes, Fort Conner was a supply base until it was abandoned after the peace treaty. It is the perfect spot to store all the weapons. It’s only a days ride to Fort Steele. Any questions?” Barclay asks.
“Okay, lets’ go over the battle strategy. Tell me Captain, how do you plan on ensuring no one escapes except the ones we want to.” Barclay looks at Captain Ganic.
“Gather round.” He points to the map on the desk. “The Indians will attack in the middle of the night, while most people are sleeping in their beds. We have eight Gatlin Guns placed around the town which is basically a few simple single-story structures here,” he points to the map which they all are standing around.
“The town is surrounded by a stone fence and is mostly used by ranchers and wagon trains, traveling through,” General Barclay places silver coins on the map around the city to represent the Gatling guns.
“You know, you could simply poison the water supply. It would ensure that no one escapes, and we could stage the attack better,” Thomas suggests.
“Not a bad idea, Thomas. I will talk to Dr. Ellis before I leave and see what he can do. Either way, no one will escape. Look at the last battle. We only had two Gatlin Guns and killed over two hundred Shoshone. In a few weeks, this will all be over with. We will exterminate them one tribe at a time.”
Chapter 12
Harris rides fast for half the night, knowing time is essential. Even if Kimani manages to escape the trackers, there are other dangers to worry about. Bears are coming out of hibernation, coyote, wolf, and even cougars will be prowling for their next meal, and they will be drawn to her blood. Just thinking about it has him pushing his horse even harder.
Simon told her to go south. If she was injured with a gunshot wound and taking a swim in the freezing water of the river her body would be hypothermic. The blood loss alone would slow her down. The past few years he’d lost track of all the times he’s had to treat Kimani’s injuries. Broken arms, cuts, bruises, sprained ankles and more. It was way past time that she found someone to help look after her, which he had told her and her Father the last time he was in their village.
After she rejected his marriage offer, he went to the Chief. It was not an easy conversation, but the Chief agreed that she would come live on the ranch after the spring tribal. Guilt rips through his heart. “I should have made her listen to reason!” but he pushes it aside, “Focus on finding Kimani.”
A gunshot echoes across the dark field, startling Harris from his thoughts. He draws up short and leans low over his horse while trying to determine the direction it came from. Wyoming is not flat open plains. It has hills and valleys, which he’s thankful for when the next round of shots reverberates from close by. The full moon allows for him to see. Harris rides for the high side of the hill where he can use trees for cover and jumps from his horse, digging in his saddlebag he pulls out a pair of binoculars.
After a moment of disbelief, he discovers where the noise is coming from. He sees a large campfire in a small clearing below the ridge. The large flames act as a beacon, signaling across the grassy sea of snow.
“Damn Fools!” He hisses and watches four soldiers shooting guns, laughing and drinking. They will draw any predators in the area, but it’s not the animal kind to worry about. Anyone with brains knows you travel light and fast through these fields or risk being robbed, shot or killed by Indians.
He’s about to mount his horse and go warn them when one man lifts a scalp and waves it in the air. Harris is horrified. “Oh, God,” his stomach rolls and when another soldier lifts a bag usually reserved for carrying supplies, Harris freezes.
“That’s nothing, check out my loot!” The soldier unties his drawstring bag and dumps it on the ground to which the other three start cheering. Noses, Ears, lips and worse spill on the snow-covered ground.
Harris drops his head to the ground and wills himself to breath, not vomit. He’s seen worse as a doctor. “No,” he whispers and closes his eyes, trying to still the trembling in his body.
His heart and mind fill with memories of the children he’s delivered, the sick he’s tended too and the brotherhood of years with Chief Nashoba and his tribe. Pony races, as children, swimming, camping, fishing and learning how to use a bow. Tears fall, and he’s not ashamed of them. When the rage comes, he welcomes it. As a doctor, he knows how to heal, but he’s also a soldier and a rancher.
Striding quickly to his horse he unstraps his Winchester rifle from the leather scabbard on the saddle. With a flick of his hand, he racks a bullet into the chamber and moves back to the ridge. Killing them would be a blessing. Harris lays down on his stomach at the top of the knoll, being sure to keep to shadows the moon throws on the ground. Using the iron site, he takes aim and is about to pull the trigger when he sees movement behind the men.
A band of Indians has been moving up on them from the other side. Harris slowly lowers the rifle and switches to his binoculars. Five warriors have moved in on foot and behind them the steam from more horses can be seen. Counting quickly, he soon realizes a band of thirty or more warriors is slowly closing in around the campfire. He grins in the dark and slowly crawls backward. Time to go.
“The next
time I find her, she will not tell me no.” He kicks his horse and rides for the Snake River.
Chapter 13
“Pa, look!” Ten-year-old Billy runs through the back of the wagon and points out across the field at a horse eating dewy grass as the sun rises over the field.
“Get back inside!” His father grabs his rifle while his wife takes the reins of the wagon. Billy grabs the pistol his mother hands him and tells him to watch the back.
Trent Hardley and his family are part of a group traveling in a wagon train with a flock of sheep. There were ten families travelling together, all determined to homestead land to raise their families and flocks on. Today had been the Hardley families turn to go to the nearest town for supplies.
Trent trains his rifle on the horse and waits for the morning glare to die down. Squinting against the sun, he shields his eyes and realizes a rider is slumped over the saddle of the horse.
“Billy, stay here, it could be a trick.” Melody grabs the second rifle and keeps an eye out. “I’ll go check.”
“No, Trent, what if,” she starts to say, but he squeezes her hand gently.
“Just a quick check, he’s probably just asleep.” Trent jumps down and walks quickly through the field, his rifle is trained on the man and horse the entire time.
“Easy,” he soothes the horse who glances at him, only to go back to eating. Trent stares at the soldier and notices the stain on his leg spreading out and calls out to him.
“Are you okay?” No response. Trusting his wife to cover him, he lowers the rifle and reaches up, shoving the hat back, releasing a rain of caramel colored hair.
“Oh, my Lord!” Melody whispers and lowers the rifle. “Billy get the medicine bag!”
Trent touches the woman’s shoulder and finds to his relief that she’s breathing but is burning up with fever. When he tries to pull her from the horse, he realizes she had tied her hands to the saddle with the reins.
Not sure about the extent of her injuries he grabs the bridle and pulls the horse gently back to his wagon, leaving her in the saddle.
A few minutes later they have removed her from the saddle, laying her in the wagon, and tied the horse to the back of the covered wagon. “She’s burning up with fever, Trent.” Melody glances worriedly at him, not saying what they are both worried about, disease.
“I know, let’s get her comfortable and head back to the homestead.” They work quickly and are soon riding again. Billy sits watching the woman and chews on his lip.
Kimani opens her eyes and stares up at the white canvas top above her, before turning her head to the side. Billy stares open mouth at her. “Mom! she’s awake!
Melody crawls into the back and takes her hand. “What’s your name?”
“Rivers...” Getting to the Ranch is all she can think of.
“Rivers is your last name?” Melody asks softly.
“W… water?” Kimani can’t keep her eyes open, the sun is too bright, and chills are racking her body. Melody grabs another blanket and covers her with it while whispering to Billy to give her the canteen.
Kimani drinks with the help of Melody and collapses back on the blankets. “Can you tell me your name, Miss Rivers?”
Kimani frowns and struggles to stay awake, “Vanessa,” she murmurs and starts coughing.
“Easy, Vanessa, it’s’ going to be okay, just sleep,” Melody wets a cloth and presses it to her forehead as her eyes clothes. “Hurry, Trent,” she urges her husband.
“What happened to her, Mama?” Billy asks.
“I don’t know, but we will take care of her,” Melody promises.
An hour later they are pulling back into the homestead, surprising everyone in the camp. “What’s wrong?” Trent’s father asks.
“We found an injured rider,” he says, pulling to a stop and setting the break.
Melody leaps down and starts snapping orders. “We need hot water, boiled. She’s fevered, and we don’t know the extent of her injuries. Take her to our cabin, Trent.”
They all gather to watch as Sutton climbs inside to help Trent carry her out. Kimani sleeps through it all. Only groaning when they hit her leg.
“Dear Lord, what happened to her?” Trent’s mother gasps, following Melody to her cabin with Billy and two other women.
The cabins are simple two-room structures built from the local trees and materials at hand. “We don’t know,” Trent answers and carries her inside, laying her on Billy’s bed, before turning to his Father.
“That horse belongs the military and the last I looked they don’t let females in the army, Pa.”
“Nope. I’ll go through the bags.” He turns, and leaves followed by Billy.
The women get to work quickly, heating water and gathering supplies, while Melody cuts the shirt from her body, followed by her pants.
“Oh, my God,” Lea, Melody’s friend whispers.
“Her name is Vanessa Rivers,” Melody says softly. The bruises rain over her body, purple ribs, scratches, cuts litter her body. Even her scalp is bloody, but her leg has them all gasping. They remove the bandages and one corner has broken open, allowing it to leak but the remaining stitches held.
“Lea, can you start on her hair, rinse it as best as you can, and I will work on her leg.” Melody gathers herbs and mixes a poultice to spread on the thigh.
“I will gather clothes from the other women, and we will pray for her.”
“Thank you, Mother. I think she will need a miracle.”
“What do we do with her clothes?” Another woman asks, staring at the offending garments.
“Burn them,” she snaps.
“What did you find, Dad,” Trent asks walking over to the group of men standing around the horse.
“The horse definitely belongs to a soldier,” his best friend, Sutton says gesturing to the saddle. “Underneath each is a leather branding indicating who it belonged to.”
“The real question is how did she end up with it?” his father asks.
“Let’s hope she shot him and stole his horse,” Trent replies.
“This isn’t good. We should expect questions. I can take the horse to town tomorrow and sell it. We could say we found it, wondering. Until we know her story and who did this, there is no need for others to know she’s here,” Sutton snaps.
“Agreed. Billy can stay with us tonight,” his Father offers.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Chapter 14
Small towns have cropped up all over Wyoming between Forts and along the wagon train routes. Riverton is named so because of the four rivers which converge outside of town. Harris rides in and asks for directions to the livery. He will need a fresh horse and to replenish his supplies before starting his search again. The past five days have been spent riding hard and searching for Kimani. He road along the Snake River, searching for any sign and what he found chilled him.
A dead horse wrapped in wire, along with a dead soldier. “What the hell is happening?”
He’s beginning to lose hope but he’s not ready to accept defeat. Riverton had only been a twenty-mile ride.
“I need a fresh horse, and a place to get a good meal,” Harris tells the man at the livery.
“No problem, Mr.?” the older man states as he looks over his horse.
“Doctor Rivers,” Harris replies automatically.
“Well, Dr. Rivers, you won’t find a better meal and bed than at the new Rollins House Hotel.” He points across the street to a three-story brick building.
“Thank you, I won’t be staying the night, but I could use a meal. Can you have the horse ready in an hour?”
“Of course.”
“Any chance you have a runner who could collect my supplies for me?” Harris asks pulling out money to pay him.
“Absolutely. Tell me what you need.”
After a few minutes of discussion and payment, Harris hurries to the Rollins house to eat.
“Welcome to the Rollins House, I’m Beverly, would you like a table?”
A female voice greets him when he enters the restaurant.
Harris smiles at the young hostess. Blonde, pretty and dressed to entice. Her blue dress is low cut, highlighting her ample bosom. The smile of invitation makes him sigh. Though she paints a pretty picture, his mind is on Kimani.
“Thank you, yes.” Beverly leads him to a table. Once he’s seated, she takes his order and smiles prettily at him.
“Will you be staying with us… I forgot to ask your name?” she asks.
“Doctor Rivers, and no, I’m only here long enough for a meal.”
“That’s too bad, Dr. Rivers. The Rollins House is eager to provide our visitors with a memorable stay.” She leans low and pours his coffee, making it clear that she is offering more than a warm meal.
“As tempting as that is, I’m only here for a short time.” He quickly gives her his food order and glances away, dismissing her. Beverly frowns and moves to the kitchen to place the order.
The Rollins House is a tempting retreat after days in the saddle, but his heart is urging him to hurry. Kimani needs him. He is sipping on a bowl of stew, fresh rolls and coffee when a man approaches him.
“Excuse me, are you Dr. Rivers?”
Harris lowers his coffee cup in surprise. “That didn’t take long. Who’s asking?”
“Sutton Calibar. Can I join you, Dr. Rivers?”
Harris nods, “Please forgive me, Mr. Calibar, but I’m going to keep eating. I have to get back on the trail soon.”
Sutton sits quickly and waves at the waitress to order a cup of coffee. As she pours it, he leans forward, “I’m in need of a doctor and please hear me out before you say no. I’m a sheep herder. A few days ago, while working the herd,” he pauses and looks at the waitress.
Beverly takes the hint and turns to serve the table next to them. “We found a soldier, shot on a horse. He was fevered and unresponsive but breathing.”
