Blood Bond

by William W. Johnstone

  “They aren’t afraid to die, Gerry. Many of them would prefer death to life on a reservation.”

  Gerry nodded his head. “I . . . think I understand.” He was silent for a time, enjoying the silence of the pre-dawn. “I wonder if Sam came with the column?”

  “I’m sure he did. We’re brothers.”

  Gerry looked at the dark bulk of the man. “Did you and Two Wolves really beat each other to a bloody pulp by the river?”

  “Oh, yes. It was just something we had to get out of our systems. We’ve been fighting since we were boys. We’ve always competed against each other.”

  Again, Gerry nodded his head. The sky was growing lighter in the east. “Talk is that you and this Stutterin’ Smith person are going to have a gunfight very soon.”

  “Only if he pushes it. I have nothing at all against the man.”

  “But you will fight if he calls you out?”

  “I have to, Gerry. That’s the way it is out here.

  “You could just turn your back and walk away.”

  Bodine stood up from his squat to face the lieutenant. “That’s something I can’t and won’t do, Gerry.” He drained his coffee cup and tossed the dregs onto the ground. “Here comes the column.”

  Gerry looked around him in the dull grayness of early dawning. “I don’t see a thing. Or hear anything.”

  “They’ll be coming over the ridge in about a minute. You’ll want your people in formation, I suspect.” Bodine walked away.

  Gerry watched him walk away and shook his head. “The man is impossible,” he muttered. “I doubt the Colonel has even rolled out of his blankets.”

  Then he heard the faint drum of steel-shod hooves on the hard-packed road leading to the burned-out town of Cutter. “Someday,” Gerry muttered, “I’m going to be around when he’s wrong.”

  * * *

  A few wagons, only slightly fire-damaged, had been located, the burned wheels or tongues replaced, and the women and wounded placed into the wagons after a quick breakfast on the cold hillside.

  Gerry had informed Travers about the upcoming gunfight and the colonel had been appalled.

  “After all of this!” He waved a hand toward the burned-out town. “And this Smith person wants a gunfight?”

  “That’s the talk, sir.”

  “And Bodine says what?”

  “He’ll fight if he’s pushed.”

  Two Wolves walked up.

  “Can’t you stop Bodine, Sam?” Gerry asked him.

  “I would sooner to attempt to stop the wind. But Bodine will not call Smith out. My brother is willing to ride out and forget it. It will all be up to Smith.”

  “Someday there will be laws against this sort of barbarism,” Gerry predicted.

  “We will be middle-aged men before that happens,” Two Wolves told him. “There is Smith.”

  The two officers and the half-breed turned as Stutterin’ Smith stepped out of the barn. He had taken off his jacket and removed his right hand glove.

  “Bodine!” Smith called.

  Bodine stepped out from beside the wagon that contained Lucy and the Chinaman. His jacket was brushed back, exposing his Colts.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way, Smith.”

  “Yeah, it d . . . d . . . do, Bodine. I c . . . c . . . cain’t have no talk about you bein’ b . . . b . . . bettter than me. I m . . . m. . . make my livin’ with a g . . . g . . . gun.” “You’re too good a man to end it like this, Smith. You’re a brave man. You fought well. I’d like you to be my friend.”

  A surprised look came onto Smith’s face. “B . . . b . . . but we is friends, Bodine. I ain’t g . . . g . . . got nothin’ agin you p . . . p . . . personal.”

  “You men stop this immediately!” Colonel Travers shouted.

  “You shut up, soldier b . . . b . . . boy,” Smith told him. “This ain’t none of your affair.”

  “Stay out of it, Travers,” Bodine told the man without taking his eyes off of Stutterin’. “This is something you don’t understand.”

  “My price just went up, B . . . B . . . Bodine,” Smith said with a smile. “Sorry it had to b . . . b . . . be you.”

  “Dead men don’t earn money, Smith.”

  Simon Bull was leaning up against the stone fence, watching intently. He knew that someday he would face Bodine. He wanted to see just how good the man was. Nobody could be as good as the rumors implied. He’d never seen a gunfighter yet who lived up to his reputation.

  Simon Bull felt eyes on him and he cut his gaze. Two Wolves was watching him. The breed’s buckskin jacket brushed back, exposing the butt of his six-gun. Simon smiled and crossed his arms over his chest, showing Two Wolves that he was out of this showdown.

  Two Wolves left the side of the officers and walked over to lean against the fence, beside Simon.

  “What’s the matter, Breed—don’t you trust me?”

  “No more than I would trust a cornered puma.”

  Simon chuckled softly. “That’s probably best.”

  “Time for t . . . t . . . talkin’ is over, Bodine!” Smith called. “M . . . m . . . make your play!”

  “That’s up to you, Smith. I really wish you wouldn’t force this.”

  “You yellow?”

  “No. I just don’t see the point.”

  “The p . . . p . . . point is this!” Smith yelled, then grabbed for iron.

  He never cleared leather on his first try. Bodine’s Colt roared and bucked and spat smoke and lead and death. The slug took Smith in the gut, knocking him back but not putting him down.

  “B . . . b . . . bastard!” Smith snarled the word.

  Bodine let him pull iron. Smith cocked his Remington. 44 and the muzzle rose slowly.

  Bodine shot him twice in the chest, the slugs so close together a silver dollar would cover the holes. Smith’s boots flew out from under him and he landed hard on the cold, rocky ground, his pistol slipping from fingers that would never hold another gun.

  Bodine reloaded as he walked over to the dying man and looked down at him.

  “F . . . f . . . fast,” Smith said. “Always k . . . k. . . knowed I’d see the varmint. Never t . . . t . . . thought it’d be this soon.”

  “You got kin, Smith?”

  “Nobody who’d g . . . g . . . give a damn. Wrap me up g . . . g . . . good, Bodine. I never did like the cold. Take my watch, Bodine. It’s a g . . . g . . . good one.”

  “All right, Smith.”

  “You ought to . . . you ought to . . .”

  Whatever it was that Smith figured Bodine ought to do died with the man. The gunfighter slipped into that long sleep with his eyes open, staring up at the new dawn, the last dawning he would see on this earth.

  “Stupid,” Bodine was heard to mutter. “It didn’t have to be.”

  Bodine dropped his Colt back into leather and hooked the hammer thong. He knelt down and took the blanket that was handed him by a trooper, spreading it over Smith.

  Two Wolves glanced at Simon Bull. “Still want to try him, Bull?”

  The big man smiled. “I’m a lot bigger than Stutterin’. I can soak up more lead. I believe I can stay on my boots long enough to kill him.”

  Two Wolves shook his head. “But you would both be dead!”

  “But can you think of a better epitaph than the man who killed Matt Bodine?”

  “Yes, I can. How about: He lived a long and noble life?”

  “You good with a gun, Breed. But you ain’t no gunfighter. You don’t understand us no more than I understand Injuns.”

  “Perhaps not.” Two Wolves walked over to his brother and helped him pick up Smith and carry him over to the shallow mass-grave hole that the burial detail had chopped out of the cold earth.

  “Senseless,” Two Wolves muttered, as he helped lay the body beside the others.

  Bodine said nothing as he buttoned up Smith’s shirt and placed his hat on his chest. He removed Smith’s watch and slipped it into his pocket. It was a good one.

&nb
sp; “How come I cain’t go through their pockets and look for change?” a man called from a wagon.

  “Shut your damned mouth!” Colonel Travers told him. “Scum!” he muttered. Then he waved to the burial detail. “Cover them up.”

  The cold wind picked up, moaning softly over the hillside as the earth and rocks began filling the hole.

  Chapter 25

  “Sam,” Terri said, finally catching his eye as he started to ride past the open wagon.

  “I have nothing at all to say to you, Miss Kelly. Civilization would have been better served had you died back in Cutter.”

  “You don’t mean that, Sam!”

  But his cold eyes told her that he most certainly did mean it.

  “I’ve made mistakes, Sam. But don’t we all? I deserve another chance.”

  “I know all about your past, Terri. I know you have been a criminal all your life. You’ve been run out of every town you’ve ever tried to settle in. You and Thomas deserve each other.”

  “Sam! What a horrid thing to say. Not gentlemanly at all. Certainly not a bit like you. I must say that I am really very disappointed in you.”

  “Terri?”

  “Yes, my darling Samuel?”

  “Go right straight to hell!”

  He lifted his horse into a stiff canter just as Terri opened her mouth and let the foulness roll forth like sewage into a cesspool.

  Two Wolves rode away with a small smile of satisfaction on his lips. He was still smiling as he slowed at Bodine’s side.

  “Was that you responsible for for that caterwauling back yonder?” Bodine asked.

  “I certainly was.”

  “She sure has got a filthy mouth. She try to butter up to you?”

  “For a very short time. I told her to go to hell.”

  Bodine looked at him for a moment and then bursted out laughing. Soon Two Wolves was laughing along with him. Gerry rode back to see what was so funny. Bodine told him. The lieutenant tried to look stern but he could only hold it for a few seconds before he broke into peals of laughter.

  At the head of the column, Colonel Travers shifted in the saddle in an attempt to ease his sore butt. He glanced at Sergeant McGuire. “Mac, what in the devil is so funny back there with those three?”

  Mac spat before replying. “Oh, they’re just young, sir. And full of it.” He hid his secret smile. He knew damn well what they were laughing about.

  They rode on for about a mile before Travers broke the silence. “I might as well tell you now, Mac. Your request for transfer to the 7th Cavalry was turned down. I tried, Mac.”

  “I know you did, sir. Just as well, I reckon. I was trying to get with Major Reno. I know him well. But they’d have most likely put me with Custer; he takes too many chances to suit this old soldier.”

  “You’re probably better off right here with me, Mac.”

  “Yes, sir, you’re probably right.”

  * * *

  Bodine and Two Wolves broke off from the column and headed south, toward their ranches.

  “We best stop at Dad’s and pick up some supplies. Say, why don’t you come on down and spend some time with me. I haven’t beaten you at checkers since the last time we played.”

  “You haven’t beaten me at checkers in years, Brother. But I shall pay you a visit for a time. I want to look over that mean, miserable hovel you call a home.”

  “Hovel! Just for that, by God, you can do the cooking.”

  “Thank you. At least I know now that neither of us will starve during the remainder of the winter. Since you seem to have so much difficulty in even getting water to boil.”

  They were still arguing, with Bodine waving his arms and shouting, and Two Wolves smiling and shaking his head in disagreement as they rode onto their home range.

  * * *

  The hard Wyoming winter hit them again before spring managed to shove winter aside. But the two blood-bonded brothers stayed snug and warm in Bodine’s house near the Powder, venturing out only to hunt, to chop wood, and to break ice for the cattle and horses to drink.

  As the days began to warm, Slim Man, a breed like Two Wolves, rode up to the cabin and swung down from the saddle. He was welcomed in for food and coffee and for any news he might have. And he had plenty.

  After eating his fill, and over a second cup of coffee, Slim Man pushed back his chair and rubbed his belly. “Good grub. You didn’t cook it, did you, Bodine?” His dark eyes twinkled with good humor as Two Wolves laughed.

  “I ought to make you wash the dishes for that remark,” Bodine said with a laugh. “You got any news worth telling?”

  Slim Man’s smile faded. “Yes. And none of it good. Crow King, Sitting Bull, and Gall have been on their hunting grounds for some time now. The Army ordered them back to the reservation two and a half months ago. They refused to go. The Cheyenne have agreed to join the Brule, Ogalalla, Sans Arc, Blackfeet, Miniconjou, and Hunkpapa in their fight against the Army.”

  Two Wolves and Bodine exchanged glances, Two Wolves asking, “Where are they now, Slim Man?”

  “Heading for the Rosebuds. They plan to make their camp close to the Little Bighorn.”

  Slim Man paused.

  “What’s the matter?” Two Wolves asked.

  “I was talking to some Crows two, three days ago. They’ve been told to make ready for an expedition around the middle of May. It has to be against the Sioux and the Cheyenne”

  “Who will be leading it, Slim Man?”

  “Iron Butt.”

  Lieutenant Colonel George Armstrong Custer, known also as Yellow Hair, Long Hair, and Ringlets. And Custer was known as a ruthless, if a brash and sometimes reckless, Indian fighter.

  “What other wonderful news do you have for us?” Two Wolves asked.

  “Tom Thomas and Terri Kelly have escaped from confinement and linked up with the Texas gunfighter, Walker.”

  “I thought Walker was dead,” Bodine said.

  “So did everybody else. Not so. Most of his army was slaughtered, but he escaped, along with maybe ten or twelve men. Thomas and Terri have formed their own little outlaw army with Simon Bull, Pete Terrance, Jim Wilson . . . to name a few.”

  “Where are they?”

  “No one seems to know for sure. But this much is known, Bodine: Thomas has sworn to kill you. I think Thomas has taken over that little settlement on the Yellowstone; right where the Bighorn starts. He’s got fifteen or twenty hard-cases working for him.”

  “Probably working the river, robbing and raping and murdering.”

  “You got it.”

  “Any news about Corrigan?” Bodine asked

  Slim Man grinned. “He filed on land just south of your spread, Bodine. Just had equipment shipped in and he’s going to farm and live in peace. I believe he’s really sincere.”

  Bodine nodded his head, but his thoughts were not on farming. They were remembering his dreams about the great battle near the Little Bighorn.

  Slim Man thanked them for the food and left; said he was going north now that spring was here. He had him a job lined up punching cows.

  The two blood brothers stepped outside the cabin to stand in the warming early spring air.

  “What are your thoughts, Bodine?” Two Wolves asked.

  “Breaking my word to our father.”

  “I don’t think he would be disappointed if you did. I think he felt you would mull over his words and then choose the white man’s ways. As he pushed me to it. But do you think you will be believed?”

  Bodine sighed “Probably not, Brother. But I have to try.”

  “I’ll saddle up. Are we going to see Travers?”

  “Yes. Well stop by Dad’s and see if he’s heard anything.”

  They pulled out within the hour, making sure they carried plenty of ammunition. Bodine did not take Thomas’s threat lightly. The man was about half-crazy, and Bodine knew Thomas blamed him for his downfall.

  They rode toward the Crazy Woman, spending the night at Bodine’s parents
’ house.

  “It’s been quiet around here, son,” the elder Bodine told him. “Although others have reported seeing bands of Indians now and then.”

  “They’re on their traditional hunting grounds.”

  “Making ready for war,” Two Wolves added, a grim expression on his face.

  Both father and son knew that Two Wolves was torn emotionally between two sides, and they also suspected he was wondering if his father was among the Cheyenne who had chosen to fight the Army.

  Two Wolves sighed and shook himself out of his reverie. “I wonder if Lone Dog is in the Rosebuds?”

  “Not from what I’ve heard,” the father said. “He and his band have been working much farther north; up north of the Musselshell. And they’ve been causing a lot of grief up there.”

  “He’s quite mad, you know?” Two Wolves said. “He always was unstable.”

  “And has always hated you,” Bodine reminded his brother.

  “Envious. And I never understood that.”

  Bodine had not told his father why he was going to the fort, and the elder Bodine did not push it. But his son confirmed his own thoughts when he said, “Stay out of the Rosebuds, Dad. You’ve got some holdings up close to the border, I know. It would be best if you sent some hands up there to push the cattle south.”

  “Any particular reason, boy?”

  Bodine smiled. “Maybe the cows would like a change of scenery?”

  * * *

  By dawn they had crossed the Crazy Woman and were heading for the Clear. From the Clear, the garrison was a good three days’ ride away.

  When they had crossed over into Montana Territory, they began seeing small bands of Indians. They were challenged several times, but once the Indians recognized them, they veered off and Bodine and Two Wolves were left alone.

  “Odd,” Bodine said. “They won’t even ride close enough to talk.”

  “They don’t want us to spoil their medicine,” Two Wolves pointed out. “This confirms in my mind that they are preparing for war.”

  “They’re also telling us that we are not welcome at the main camp.”