“Take a drink,” says Tom to her sweetly. “Take one & you will feel better.”
But she did only push his glass away & left the room for her quarters behind the curtain with Tom following. Tom did always worry after her so I gave it no more thought then for we were whirling & dancing & singing now about the place with our bare feet on the cool packed dirt of the floor all the time pouring more whiskey into us & singing songs for the soul of the good Sgt. May He Rest At The Right Hand Of God. I sang The Vacant Chair & Hardtimes & Metzger played sad airs betimes & wild tunes for dancing as well & the clock ran on but it felt like no time was passing at all.
Everything was just grand I tell you Sir. It was just the wake Nevin would of wanted but things took a turn with the Sutler’s wife arriving at the shebeen. God Himself only knows what she wanted with coming there at such an hour. Likely it was to make sure her husband was not drinking away their profits as was his way but no matter. She came & if she hadn’t well things might of been different altogether.
Says Ridgeway to her, “Good evening Madam.”
Says she back to him with a face like the plague, “Good what’s good about it? The Ft.’s been locked up for good now. The Col. issued an order for courts martial of any soldier found outside the walls after taps. It will cost us pretty.” And then she looked to her husband like it did all be his fault. “It will cost us a pretty f______ penny,” says she with a mouth like a deckhand on a whaler.
Says the Sutler back to her, “Well these boys were never allowed off post without orders before tonight but they still came. Do not get vexed about it Clara.” But Clara was vexed & spat a string of tobacco juice into the fire. She did think herself high borne but was just as low as the rest of us.
Well it is hard to write it but now Tom came back into the room through the curtain to take up a water bucket. Seeing this Mrs. Kinney with no Fare Thee Well at all did light upon Tom for no reason we could see. Metzy stopped his sawing of the fiddle & Ridgeway let go the hand of the girl he danced with. Says the Mistress of the house, “You! Did you pay for your poke or are you still rutting around that bitch for free?”
I think it took Tom a moment to get her meaning & when he did a darkness came on him you could see it in his face. Says he, “Well I did not poke her at all. The poor thing is unwell & in no state. She is resting.”
“Resting?” says the Mistress nearly screaming it at my brother & Ridgeway made to soothe her like Tom might soothe a spooked mare. “There there Mrs. Kinney. There there the poor girl is sick as Tom says.”
“Sick? Resting?” says the woman & then she did something that I would not believe for she began to mumble & blubber in a mockery of how Tom does talk saying again & again, “Sick? Resting? Unwell?”
Even her husband that rum b______ came around the bar now for to catch her on & Tom only stood there taking her malice for what else could he do?
“Now Clara,” says the Sutler to his wife & she did light on him in turn. “Now Clara? You can f___ a horse for all it matters.”
It was then that Tom’s girl came out from the whores’ quarters through the curtain with her voice so faint I could not make out what she said but the Mistress could.
Says Mrs. Kinney, “You will be fine & all right for poking & drinking & any other thing I tell you. There will be no malingering—”
But the poor girl did not hear her because she just then begun to spew up her guts & though Tom made to catch her flow of sick in the bucket some of it splashed the hems of the Madam’s skirts. It is no lie to say that all in that kip went silent on seeing this all of us waiting with our breath held like time was stopped.
It seemed an hour but was only seconds before time started back up & that Madam did lash out & struck Tom’s girl across her cheek so hard you might of heard that slap all the way back in Kansas & before the sound of that slap fled the air Tom did seize that woman by the throat & raise her up off her feet as if to throttle her & it came to me that instant (that very second I tell you!) that this would be the end of 1 thing & the start of something else.
For it does pain me to say it & I am ashamed of its happening but that woman’s face did go right blue with Tom’s grip about her neck & Tom’s poor cutnose girl did turn & spew some more & all of this seemed like a terrible dream at 1st until that muleskinner stood up from his stool & drew his knife.
Well yes this is where everything came a cropper. All of it was a mistake I swear to you it was not meant to happen even though that Sutler’s wife was a low borne evil woman & probably deserved her come uppance or maybe she did not. But that mule driver had enough blood on his hands so I do not feel so heart sick to say that before he could cross the room with his blade I drew my Colt & though I was deep in my cups I was so accustomed to shooting I could do it in my sleep & I did thumb back the hammer & fire & put a ball in the chest of that fellow where he stood. My 2nd shot missed but my third did not & the skinner fell back to sitting on his stool with 2 bloody holes in him & no change at all in his face but maybe a look in his eyes that did say, “What is this? I have been shot.”
Well the smoke from my Colt filled the air of that foul tavern & Tom did release the Kinney woman who took a mighty gasp of air & then fell to the ground in a fit with froth about her mouth & her eyes rolling back in her head & her body shaking.
True as God Sir I did almost go to her aid but her husband well he should of gone to her & not for the Henry rifle kept above the bar on the wall in case of an Indian raid. If Kinney went to his wife instead of for that rifle well then he might be living still & my brother & I both hanged from short ropes but he did reach for it in the end.
He did not get it of course for Tom stretched an arm across the bartop to grab a fistful of Kinney’s shirt & then he did drag him back & lay his D Bar knife up into the back of that Sutler’s head like I saw him do several times in the war so that the Sutler was stone dead before my brother dropped him & he hit the floor with the blood gouting out of his mouth in one final surge.
And all the while I must tell you Ridgeway did be shouting, “Stop! Please stop this!”
But we could not stop what that woman started & though many things may of happened tween the time my brother met his sweetheart whore & the time he lifted that Madam by the neck for striking her well nothing did happen that may of stopped it all from coming to pass. It is like God did ordain it to happen & well I am sorry that it did but more so for Ridgeway who had nothing to do with it & is dead now & died with such a thing blackening his soul. If there is any mercy in Heaven I am sure God will understand this & take pity on him.
For there was worse to come yet in that dugout tavern I tell you. Not knowing what to do I sent the other 2 away saying to them, “Metzy & Ridgeway you go back to the Ft. & speak not a word to anyone or we will all hang I tell you. Not a word.”
Well Ridgeway he did not move at 1st & though he must of seen a good piece of dying & dead men when he made pictures in the War I do not think he was ever in such close quarters to bloody murder as this. Well like I did say I was sorry & am sorry but done is done & already I was angry at the Sutler & his witch of a wife for making all this murder happen.
“Away with ye both. And not a word,” says I & finally they did leave.
“What will we do brother?” says I then.
In Irish Tom said to me, “The woman still breathes.” Like that he did say it like he was surprised by this.
“We will have to run for it,” says I.
“We will get nowhere without horses Michael. They would be on us in no time. And the woman still—”
I cut in on him.
“I know she is still alive for the Love Of God Tom! And now what? Now f______ what?”
A rage came upon me for I did also blame Tom for all this. Every bloody bit of it. We could of hung in Ireland & been buried in the earth of our home next to our father & mother & their fathers & mothers before them but instead we had to come to America to kill & suffer & tremble be
fore the Rebs & now the Indians & all of it just to hang for the honour of a slapped whore? God In Heaven it was a rum scene & the vanity of it did twist my heart. “Why brother?” I begged him in my head. “Why did you never ever do the right thing? Why did I always follow you brother? Because you are my brother? Or because I am such a fool?”
But as I was thinking these angry questions Tom’s girl crossed the room to the muleskinner & took up his knife & before you knew it she did set to carving the scalp right off that dead boy before bringing it over to me. Well I did not want it & could not believe my eyes & she seemed to understand so she put the bloody pelt of long black hair down onto the bar. Then with the knife she went to the Sutler’s wife who lay there in the dirt agin the dugout wall. In truth this does be hard to write but I knew well what Tom’s girl would do before she did it & I will confess to you I did nothing to stop it & nor did my brother.
For the Sutler’s wife ceased her fitting now & was taking in big gulps of air & she opened her eyes in a state of terrible confusion like she did not know where she was or how she came to be there. Tom’s girl standing over her said something in her Indian tongue & through the curtain came the other whores from their quarters where they were sheltering from the shooting & terrible doings & they went over to stand around the Madam all 5 of them.
When they were all gathered there Tom’s girl did hand the muleteer’s blade to Metzy’s girl with the wide innocent face the one who Mrs. Kinney beat with the fire poker. I swear to you that girl smiled such a smile of sweetness you would think she just seen the Light Of Heaven before her & this did appear to stir something in the Sutler’s wife for she started to weep then saying, “No no no no.”
Well I do not need to tell you Sir but that whore did reach down & grab that woman’s hair & pulled her head back & with a swipe did cut clean through her throat. One of the other whores took the knife from the fat one then & she stabbed the woman some times before she passed the knife on to the others who did the same & blood flowed & sprayed about the place so that myself & my brother were forced take a step back. And as they did be stabbing & killing that woman stone dead well that cuckoo leapt out of its hole in the clock there on the back bar & well didn’t Tom’s girl stand up from her terrible labours & go over to it & take it & smash it to bits on the bar with wood & pieces of it flying about like the clock had done her the same great wrong as that dead & bloody woman on the floor.
I tell you Sir I did wonder what kind of God in the Heavens would look down on such a slaughter of blood & rage & murder & not do a thing about it. But maybe He did do something & you are that thing. Perhaps you are his Angel sent to claim justice for the murdered whore master & whore madam & their 1/2 breed sentinel & though I cannot say we do not deserve such justice I must ask the question Are these the best of those I’ve kilt?
I do not think so. I know I did lay to rest far better men white Rebel Sesesh boys & Indian Braves alike & no one sought to hang me for doing it. So it is a strange world where you can kill fine men with no consequences & then be arrested & strung up for killing the rum & no good of the world like that Sutler & his terrible wife & their skinner God Forgive Me but that is the way I feel.
After the whores stopped their butchery Tom & myself decided then to make it look like hostiles did raid the tavern & do the killing which in a way is true though not true at all. We took the liquor out from behind the bar & threw the bottles into the river & we took the safe box where that Sutler kept his takings & the key from his body to open it but we did not take the money in the end for we could not decide if Indians would thieve paper money or even would know what it is. You may think we took it but we did not I promise you Sir. Maybe the whores took it & if so I wish them well for it was hard earned by them.
I do not remember what else we did to leave it look like Indians attacked that hog ranch but Tom told his girl to say this to anyone who asked & she said she & the other girls would say this.
Them girls I do not need tell you did not stay about to say anything to anyone & took to their heels before the sun shown the next day over the Valley. They are in the wind now maybe gone back to their tribes or maybe to new kips under new names & wherever they went you will never find them. Of course Tom’s girl did stay as I told you but she & my brother are now gone too. Only the slow fat doll remains the girl once beaten with the fire poker by Mrs. Kinney the one who works now for herself from a tepee by the river. I did hear you & your terrible Jew paid her a visit & so you surely know she is away in the head from her mistreatment & so can hardly be blamed for any crime. Though to save her own skin I think she may of turned Turk & informed you about Tom & myself but for this I do not blame her. She is only a poor beat down creature.
In the end Sir I beg you not to judge them poor whores harshly for they did have a terrible time of it from that woman. For though they killed her that Madam did be killing them slowly every day by cruelty & enslavement & I think a skilled barrister may argue that they did for her in self defence or in a bout of madness & thus be not so culpable but you will likely never find them & I will be dead before then anyway.
It now comes to me to state that Pvt. Daly who was picket on the gate did know nothing of our part in the crimes at the hog ranch & only let us through the livestock gate because we forced him to do it. He is in no way guilty of any crime but silence & should not suffer for it. If his testimony did help land us in this gaol then so be it I do not hold it against him & do not think him an informer. Also Addy Metzger is innocent of all crimes he did nothing & had only the misfortune to be there when they happened. I would burn these pages if I thought you would have him up over something he had no part of.
And though I betimes feel it should be Tom sat here in this cell waiting the noose instead of myself & though I curse him for abandoning me when I would of never done the same on him well if you should find him I pray that you will take account of how my brother has not been right in the head from the time of his wounding at Chickamauga. You know well Sir that my brother took his wounds in the service of the Nation so maybe you can show him some mercy if not myself.
As for me I am sorriest of all that Ridgeway is dead more sorry than you can know & I feel that it is mine & Tom’s fault that he is gone & we will pay for it in the Next Place we are bound for when we are dead. But as for the Sutler & his wife well you reap what you sow in this world. I put to you Sir they had it coming.
This is the end of my testament.
God’s Will Be Done.
46
December 20, 1866—The Pinery, Dakota Territory
DUSK DESCENDS ON THE PINERY AND WITH IT A STILLNESS unnatural to a forest but not to this one that is razed to a field of stumps and frozen mud for hundreds of yards about the blockhouse. The only sound Thomas O’Driscoll can hear is the ticking of cooling blades from the mule-driven sawmill shed, some fifty yards away from the fortification that will serve as his billet for the night. Tom has often wondered why the Indians did not destroy the mill shed or the blockhouse in the night but they never had. He himself would have done it, if only out of badness, but that is the way he has come to see the world and he knows there is no turning back from it.
The woodtrain has since departed, taking Ridgeway Glover’s remains with it, and Tom stands now over the fading embers of the blockhouse pit fire. The stone embankments with their loopholes rise a foot above his line of sight and he has retracted the ladder deep into the trenched seam of earth. Not that anything will help him, he knows, if Indians come for him. They will come in numbers and though he may take one or two of them to hell with him, they will have his hair in the end. But he will put a bullet in his own head rather than be captured. Death he does not fear but Tom has seen what Red Cloud’s warriors did to those they took alive. And he has heard from a Crow who passed the woodtrain one day that the Sioux know well about him and what he has done to so many of their own. The Crow told them that the Sioux call him Broken Face. That they call Carrington the Little White
Chief and Captain Brown Burning Face. They would love to get their hands on Broken Face, the Crow said, pointing to Tom.
So if they come, they come and some of them will regret it. Better by far to die fighting than skinned and boiled. Better a bullet in the brain than a hangman’s rope for that matter. Poor Michael, he thinks. Poor brother. He squats over the fire to take the last of its dying warmth. Let them come.
But if they do not come? There are decisions to be made, he thinks. And I will make them on the morrow if I am still alive and walking. He has hardtack and cooked bacon and a tin of cherries in juice given to him by Captain Brown himself when the officer told him to stay in the blockhouse until things with the brother cooled down at the fort. Out of sight, out of mind, Captain Brown said. And you need to stay out of that Jew bastard’s mind now that he has your brother in irons.
Tom rests his Springfield against the stone wall. When it becomes too cold outside, he will retreat into the blockhouse itself. There is no doubt the dregs of the captain’s whiskey inside and that will keep him warm.
Dusk becomes darkness and the wind works the trees on the hillsides where they have yet to cut. A bird or beast, he does not know which, screeches from someplace nearby and Tom thinks of the banshee but she does not scare him anymore. He thinks of Ridgeway. Michael was right, he thinks. He shouldn’t have gone to Ridgeway and threatened him to silence. It would not have mattered at all in the end, for the Jew and the drunken lieutenant came anyway. Someone somewhere had talked and likely it was not the poor Quaker boy, God give him rest. Too many about the fort knew about what happened, though most thought it a fine end to their debts to the thieving sutler. Two can keep a secret, Tom thinks, if one is dead. Ridgeway was a friend and Tom is sorry for his passing and how hard a death the Indians gave him, but with the way he often wandered off on his own it might have happened anyway. God rest him, but he was too soft for this world. He should have stayed back East making pictures of ladies and gentlemen in their homes of redbrick and lawns of green grass. He had no business here because the only business here is cutting trees and killing and Ridgeway was opposed to both. A kind and decent man, Ridgeway, but too soft for the world altogether.
Wolves of Eden Page 33
