Gunsmith #362 : Buffalo Soldiers (9781101554388)

by Roberts, J. R.

  They panicked.

  * * *

  Bush and Davis felt the rock shards striking them, thought they were bullets. They dropped their guns and began examining themselves for wounds. By the time they realized that neither had been shot, Clint had reloaded his gun.

  “If I was you,” he called out to them, “I’d climb down.”

  They stared up at him, then bent to retrieve their guns.

  Clint fired once more, the bullet pinging off a rock very near them.

  “Leave your guns where they are and climb down!” he called out.

  Shoulders slumping in resignation, the two men began to climb down from the rocks.

  Briefly, Clint wondered how he could climb down and keep the two men covered at the same time, but then he saw that Bass Reaves was right beneath them. He was sure the deputy would keep them covered while Clint worked his way down.

  TWELVE

  Bass Reeves was waiting for the two black men when they reached the ground. It took Clint a little longer to reach them.

  Once they were all on the ground, Reeves said to them, “Your friend is dead.”

  They looked down at the dead man. All three of them were wearing Buffalo Soldier jackets with a single stripe.

  “Take off those jackets!” Reeves commanded. “You’re a disgrace to them.”

  “We earned these jackets, brother,” Bush said to him.

  “I ain’t your brother,” Reeves said. “And maybe you earned them once, but you don’t deserve them now. Take ’em off!”

  Slowly, the two men obeyed.

  “Now take his off him,” he said, indicating the dead man.

  “He’s dead,” Davis said. “Why don’t you leave him be?”

  “Take the jacket off him,” Reeves sad. “He didn’t deserve it any more than you did.”

  Slowly, they crouched down by the body and removed his jacket. Then they handed all three jackets to Reeves. Meanwhile, Clint noticed Reeves had a slight wound on his left shoulder.

  “Take a shot?” he asked, indicating the wound.

  “He was a good shot, whoever he was,” Reeves said. “He clipped me from a long ways off.”

  “How is it?”

  “Not bad,” Reeves said. “Where are your horses?” he asked the men.

  “Same place mine is,” Clint said. “I saw them when I started to climb.”

  “Okay,” Reeves said, “we got to get their horses and yours and then we’ll get goin’.”

  “Where?”

  “We’ll keep going to Muskogee,” Reeves said, “And leave them in a cell there. Then we’ll keep goin’ till we catch the others.”

  “Maybe these fellas can help us with that,” Clint suggested.

  “Yeah,” Reeves said, “we’ll have to ask them. I’m sure they’ll be happy to help.”

  They collected the horses, including the one that belonged to Private Edwards. Bush and Davis finally identified him for Reeves, which led the deputy to believe they might eventually cooperate.

  They mounted up, tied the two live men to their saddles, and tossed Edwards over the back of his horse, trussed up so he wouldn’t slide off.

  “Anybody else up ahead waitin’ to bushwack us?” Reeves asked them.

  “We don’t know,” Davis said. “All we knew is what Edwards tol’ us we was doin’.”

  “And what was that?”

  “Killin’ you.”

  “Were those your exact orders?”

  “That’s what Edwards said the sergeant wanted us to do,” Bush said.

  “Sergeant,” Clint said. “Is that your commanding officer, or is there someone higher?”

  “Nobody higher,” Bush said. “Sergeant Washington gives the orders.”

  “Those raids and robberies you been pullin’ have been his idea?”

  “Yeah,” Bush said, “he said it was time for us to start gettin’ somethin’ back.”

  “For what?” Clint asked. “Getting back for what?”

  “For all the Buffalo Soldiers have done for the white man,” Bush said.

  “You feel entitled, then?” Clint asked.

  “What’s that mean?” Bush asked.

  “You agree with your sergeant that the white man owes you something?”

  “That’s what the sergeant says,” Davis said. “Why wouldn’t it be true?”

  Clint shook his head.

  “The red man out here has got more coming to him than you do,” Clint said.

  All three black men, including Bass Reeves, looked at him. Clint was certain that none of them agreed with what he’d just said.

  “We better get movin’,” Reeves said. “I wanna get these men to Muskogee.”

  “You gonna hang us?” Davis asked.

  “That’ll be up to Judge Parker,” Reeves said, “I ain’t gonna do nothin’ but take you back. Ain’t up to me to hang ya.”

  They rode on in a curious silence. Clint had a feeling he would hear from Reeves some time in the future about his opinions regarding white, black, and red men.

  THIRTEEN

  When they got to Muskogee, they stopped in to see Sheriff Overbay, the Cherokee lawman. They got the two black men installed in their cells and then Reeves made the introductions.

  “This here’s my friend Clint Adams,” Reeves said to the lawman.

  “Sam Overbay,” the lawman said. “I heard of you.” He put out his hand. Clint felt the man’s power in his handshake, although he was sure the big Indian was taking it easy on him.

  “We’ll take this other fella over to the undertaker’s,” Reeves said.

  “You gonna stay awhile?” Overbay asked.

  “No,” Reeves said. “We’ll come back and question them two a little bit more, see if they can give us some idea where the others have gone. But we’ll be ridin’ out later today.”

  “I’ll be here,” Overbay said.

  * * *

  Clint and Bass Reeves left the sheriff’s office, walked their horses as well as Edwards’s horse over to the undertaker’s with the body.

  “What do you know about Sheriff Sam Overbay?” Clint asked.

  “Not much,” Reeves said. “He stayed out of my way last time I was here. I’ve never seen him have to do anything yet.”

  “Big man,” Clint said.

  “But that don’t mean he can do nothin’,” Reeves pointed out. “Size ain’t everythin’.”

  When they carried the blanket-wrapped body into the undertaker’s, the man looked at Bass Reeves and said, “You again.”

  They set the body on a table. The undertaker took a peek, then looked at Reeves again.

  “Another black man?” he asked. “You like killin’ your own kind?”

  Reeves stared back at the undertaker, who was also black. He was an older man, his skin with that dusky, dry look old black men get.

  “I’m doin’ my job, old-timer,” Reeves said. “Don’t matter to me if they be black, white, or red. How about you?”

  “Yeah, well…” the old man said. “Who’s gonna pay?”

  “Send a bill to Fort Smith, to Judge Parker,” Reeves said. “He’ll take care of it.”

  Clint and Reeves stepped outside.

  “Don’t let him bother you,” Clint said. “He was out of line.”

  “He don’t bother me none,” Reeves said. “Come on, let’s go ask them other two some questions.”

  “You think they’re going to know where this Sergeant Washington took the others?”

  “Maybe not,” Reeves said. “Maybe he just sent them after me, figurin’ he might lose ’em. But maybe they heard somethin’ useful.”

  “Could be.”

  When they got to the sheriff’s office, they went right into the cell blocks. The two men had been put in separate cells, but they were side by side. They were both lying on their bunks.

  “Wake up! We got some questions for you two,” Reeves said.

  “We ain’t got nothin’ ta say to you, Reeves,” Davis said.

 
“It might help you with Judge Parker if I can tell him you was cooperative,” Reeves said.

  The two men exchanged a glance between the bars.

  “Well, whataya wanna know?” Bush asked.

  “How many more of you are there disgracing the uniform?” Reeves asked.

  “Well, suh,” Bush said, “you done kilt three of us, and put us in here. That leaves…six?” He looked over at his partner.

  “I ain’t so good at sums,” Davis said. “That sounds about right.”

  “Yeah, I think that leaves six,” Bush said to Reeves with a nod.

  “Where were they goin’ when you split up?” Reeves asked.

  “That we don’t know,” Davis said. “Maybe Edwards knew, but you done kilt him.”

  “We split up in groups of three after we left here,” Bush said, still proving his ability with his sums. “But we don’t know where they was goin’. Nobody never tol’ us.”

  “Nobody tells us nothin’,” the other man said.

  “Even if you let us go,” Davis said, “we wouldn’t know where to go to join up with them again.”

  Reeves looked at Clint, who nodded, indicating he believed what they were saying.

  “Okay,” Reeves said.

  He and Clint started to walk out.

  “Hey, hey,” Davis yelled, “you leavin’ us here?”

  “For a while,” Reeves said. “But don’t worry, we’ll be back for you to take you see Judge Parker. You and the rest of your gang.”

  “We ain’t a gang,” Davis yelled, “we’re a squad.”

  Reeves stopped halfway out the door and stepped in again, glaring at the men.

  “You ain’t no squad,” he said. “You’re a disgrace to the Buffalo Soldiers you used to serve in, but you don’t no more. You’re nothin’ but a gang of outlaws, and I aim to bring you all in.”

  “Seems like you’re aimin’ to just kill us all,” Bush said.

  “Whether you go back dead or alive is up to all of you,” Reeves said. “It don’t make no never mind to me. But one way or another, you’re going back.”

  Reeves left the cell blocks, ignoring whatever else the two black men had to say.

  “How long you want me to hold ’em?” Sheriff Overbay asked.

  “Until we get back,” Bass Reeves said, “to pick ’em up.”

  “And what if you don’t come back?”

  “Oh, don’t you worry, Sheriff,” Reeves said. “We’ll be back.”

  “Both of you?” Overbay asked.

  “Yeah, both of us,” Reeves said. “Just hold ’em for Judge Parker.”

  “Yes, sir,” Overbay said.

  As they left the office, Reeves asked, “Why would he think he should let them go at some point?”

  “He’s probably used to holdin’ drunks for a day or two,” Clint said. “I get the feeling he’s not a real experienced lawman.”

  They walked their horses to the end of town the two black men indicated they had left by.

  “Lots of tracks,” Clint said. “How do we pick them out?”

  “That’s easy,” Reeves said, getting down on one knee. “Look.”

  Clint looked down at the horseshoe print Reeves was pointing out.

  “Wait,” he said, “that’s military issue.”

  “That’s right,” Reeves said. “These men still have their jackets, and their military-issue horses. They really think they’re still a Buffalo Soldier squad.”

  “They’re deluded,” Clint said. “And they feel they’re owed.”

  “Well, maybe I ain’t gonna give them what they’re owed,” Reeves said, “but I’m gonna give ’em what they got comin’.”

  “So then you are planning on killing them,” Clint said.

  Reeves looked at him.

  “I don’t lie to you, Clint,” the black lawman said. “Not ever. If they make me kill ’em, I will. Otherwise I’m takin’ em back to the Judge to let him do what he does best. That suit you?”

  “Actually,” Clint said, “that suits me just fine.”

  “Well, then,” Reeves said, “I guess we better mount up and see where these tracks take us.”

  FOURTEEN

  Sergeant Lemuel Washington was riding up ahead of his two men, alone with his thoughts—his thoughts being whether or not Edwards and the other two had been successful in trying to kill Bass Reeves, or if he’d managed to kill them instead.

  He doubted it. Deputy Marshal Bass Reeves was a formidable man. It would probably take more than three men to kill him.

  Private Franklin came riding up alongside him, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Where we headed, Sarge?” he asked.

  “Not to where anybody thinks we’re headed, Private,” Washington said.

  “What’s that mean?”

  Washington looked at him.

  “We’re gettin’ out of the Territories,” he said. “We’re gonna expand our operation.”

  “Expand it?”

  “We’re gonna spread out,” Washington said. “Bass Reeves thinks he’s gonna find us in the Territories. Well, he’s gonna find out he’s gonna have to go a lot farther to find us.”

  “But where we goin’?” the private asked.

  “You’ll see soon enough.”

  As Clint and Reeves put some distance between themselves and Muskogee, the tracks they were following separated into two groups.

  They reined their mounts in, saw three sets of tracks going off to the north, and the other three continuing to the east.

  “Split up?” Clint asked.

  “If we’d split up earlier today,” Reeves offered, “one of us would be dead.”

  “So what are you thinkin’?”

  “I’m thinkin’ maybe they split, but they’re headed to the same place.”

  “So if we follow one set of three, they may lead us to the others eventually.”

  “Yeah, eventually.”

  “But who knows how long it will take,” Clint said. He was still thinking that he had just been through this, and had been on the trail longer than he’d expected.

  “Must be another way,” he offered.

  “Yeah, there is,” Reeves said. “We catch up to one of these groups and they’ll tell us where the other one is headed.”

  They mounted up.

  “Okay,” Clint said, “you’re the man with the badge. Pick one.”

  “North,” Reeves said.

  “Maybe they’re going to Kansas,” Clint suggested. “Moving out of the Territories rather than have to deal with you.”

  “Goin’ to Kansas ain’t gonna solve that for ’em,” Reeves said. “They’re gonna have to deal with me—and you, no matter what.”

  They rode in silence for a while and then Clint asked, “What do you suppose their aim would be in going to Kansas?”

  Reeves seemed to give the question some thought before responding.

  “Well, like you said, maybe they don’t think I’d follow them,” he said, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “Or maybe they’re just tryin’ to spread out themselves out some. They’re ex-military, their sergeant must have a plan.”

  “I’m thinking he’s got a target in mind,” Clint said. “Someplace in Kansas that he’s going to hit. If we knew what and where that was, we could be there waiting for them.”

  “There’s no way to figure that one out, is there?” Reeves said. “We’re just gonna have to keep followin’ them.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  FIFTEEN

  Franklin rode up to Washington and said, “We’s in Kansas.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “You know where we’re goin’, don’t ya?” Franklin asked.

  “I heard some things last week, when we ran into those boys,” Washington said.

  “The ones we killed and robbed ’cause they had just hit a bank?”

  “That’s right,” Washington said. “They told me about a bank in a town called Kilkenny.”

  “A big bank?” />
  “Not a big one,” Washington said, “but a rich one.”

  “Can the three of us hit it?”

  “Don’t you worry about that,” Washington said. “I got that part taken care of, too.”

  The man looked at his leader, then looked back at the other rider.

  “We’s wonderin’, that’s all.”

  “Well,” Washington said, “stop wonderin’ and just follow me. Understand?”

  “Yessuh.”

  Franklin rode back to explain what he’d learned to Gordon.

  They stopped at the border.

  “Kansas,” Clint said.

  Reeves stood in his stirrups and looked around.

  “At least we won’t have to watch out for Indians,” Clint said.

  “We ain’t had no trouble with Indians,” Reeves reminded him.

  “I know it,” Clint said, “I was just trying to look on the bright side.”

  “Ain’t no bright side to this, Clint,” Reeves said. “I get the feelin’ these men ain’t gonna come easy.”

  “That won’t make the Judge happy.”

  “I ain’t so worried about the Judge,” the black deputy said. “Me and him got a understandin’.”

  “And that is?”

  “Sometimes,” he said, “folks just don’t wanna come in alive.”

  SIXTEEN

  Clint and Reeves were getting ready to make camp for the night when they saw lights up ahead.

  “You been up to this corner of the Territories before?” Clint asked.

  “A few times, but I ain’t usually crossed in Kansas here,” Reeves explained, “so I don’t know what town that is.”

  They hadn’t come across any town signposts. Also, the tracks they were following did not lead directly to those lights. They skirted around them.

  “If the Soldiers passed here in daylight, they might not have seen that town,” Clint suggested. “Or they deliberately bypassed it.”

  “If it’s a town at all,” Reeves said. “All we see are some lights.”

  “Well,” Clint said, “there’s only one way to find out.”

  Reeves hesitated.

  “If it’s a town, it’s better than camping and having beef jerky again,” Clint pointed out.