MacCallister, the Eagles Legacy: Dry Gulch Ambush

by William W. Johnstone

  “Aye, ’tis a foine soldier ye be, lad, challenging us like that. I’ll be for putting in a good word for ye. The name is MacCallister, and if ye would be so kind, would ye get word to Colonel Gibbon that MacCallister has arrived with the cattle the army has ordered.”

  The solder nodded. Then he turned his head to the left, and bellowed out, “Corporal of the guard! Front gate!”

  Meagan was a little surprised to hear him call out in such a fashion, and even more surprised when she heard the call being repeated across the open area of the post.

  “Corporal of the guard! Front gate!”

  After a moment, a soldier with two gold chevrons on his sleeve came trotting up to the gate.

  “Why the call, Pounders?”

  “This gentleman and the lady wish to call upon Colonel Gibbon,” the gate guard said.

  “Is the colonel expecting you, sir?” the corporal asked.

  “Aye. ’Tis a herd of cows I’ve brought.”

  “Very well, sir, follow me, I’ll take you to Old Bedlam.”

  “Old Bedlam?”

  “It’s what everyone calls the post headquarters building,” the corporal replied. “It’s also the colonel’s quarters.”

  Because the corporal was walking, Duff and Meagan dismounted, and they, too, walked across a broad, green field toward “Old Bedlam,” a two-story white building, with a porch that spread all across the front.

  “If you two would wait here, I’ll see Sergeant Major Martell,” the corporal said.

  A moment later, the colonel himself stepped out onto the front porch, and the man who was standing guard came to attention and raised his rifle to present arms. Colonel Gibbon returned the salute.

  “Mr. MacCallister,” the colonel said. “Come in, come in. This would be Mrs. MacCallister?”

  “No, sir, this is Miss Parker,” Duff said. “Half the cows I’m delivering to the army belong to her.”

  “Well then, she certainly has every right to be here then, doesn’t she?”

  Colonel Gibbon led Duff and Meagan back to his office. “As soon as we take delivery of the cattle, I’ll wire Cheyenne to make arrangements for you to be paid. Where are the cattle now?”

  “They are about two miles south of here in a field that has enough grass and water to keep them from wanting to wander.”

  “We have already built feeder pens. I’ll send some men to pick them up tomorrow. You and your men are welcome to come onto the post with them. I don’t look for the disbursement officer to arrive from Cheyenne for at least another week, maybe ten days. In the meantime, we will be happy to accommodate you and your men.”

  “Ye’ve m’ thanks, Colonel,” Duff said. “But the men will be starting back in a couple of days. ’Twill just be Miss Parker, Elmer Gleason, ’n’ myself remaining.”

  Colonel Gibbon walked back out into the orderly room with Duff and Meagan. As he did so, Sergeant Major Martell and the company clerk stood.

  “Sergeant Major, if you would please, go with this lady and this gentleman, and make arrangements to send some men out tomorrow, to help bring in the herd.”

  “Yes, sir,” the sergeant major replied. “Ma’am, sir, if you would come with me?”

  After making arrangements for some soldiers to come get the cows the next day, Duff and Meagan returned to the herd. As Duff had explained to the colonel, the cows were in an area with ample food and water, and seemed quite content to stay as long as Duff wanted to leave them there. Here, a belt of bright green ran alongside the Platte River which flowed by in a soft, almost majestic whisper. To the west, a ridge of purple mountains thrust into the sky.

  They were all in a good mood, the drive having been completed, and tomorrow being a payday, not only for Duff and Meagan, but for the cowboys as well. Elmer surprised them all with a pie that night, and Jeff Ford had an even bigger surprise, when he produced a guitar and sang a few songs for them. He proved to have quite a good voice.

  When Meagan turned in to her bed in the wagon that night, she was unable to go to sleep. She didn’t know why she couldn’t go to sleep; she certainly was tired enough. But no matter how many times she turned and repositioned herself, sleep continued to elude her. She sat up and looked out the back of the wagon at the sleeping men. She could hear snores from some of them, so she knew they were sleeping well.

  She withdrew back into the wagon. She recalled the words of Colonel Gibbon when he had met them, this afternoon.

  “Mr. MacCallister,” the colonel said. “Come in, come in. This would be Mrs. MacCallister?”

  Would she ever be Mrs. MacCallister? Did she want to be? She wasn’t sure what she wanted from this relationship. She wanted more than she had now, of that she was certain. But she also didn’t want to lose her independence. She liked owning The Ladies’ Emporium. She genuinely enjoyed designing and making dresses, looking at it as an expression of art.

  Finally, with those thoughts tumbling about in her head, she fell asleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Meagan got up early the next morning, and along with Duff and Elmer she watched as the first pink fingers of dawn spread over their camp. The last morning star made a bright pinpoint of light in the southern sky, and the coals from the campfire of the night before were still glowing. Elmer threw chunks of dried wood onto the fire, and soon tongues of flame were licking against the bottom of the coffeepot. A rustle of feathers caused her to look up just in time to see a golden hawk diving on its prey. The hawk soared back into the air carrying a tiny scrub mouse, which was kicking fearfully in the hawk’s claws. A prairie dog scurried quickly from one hole to another, alert against the fate that had befallen the mouse.

  Elmer poured each of them a cup of steaming black coffee and they had to blow on it before they could drink it. They watched the sun turn from gold to white, then stream brightly down onto the plains.

  “What time do you think them soldier boys will be out here to get the herd?” Elmer asked.

  “I expect they’ll be here by mid-morning,” Duff said. “The colonel said they had built feeder pens on the post, so after breakfast, I propose that we take the herd all the way up to the walls of the fort.”

  “Sounds like a good idee to me,” Elmer said.

  After breakfast, Elmer hitched the team to the wagon, and started on toward the post. Duff and the others got the herd moving, though this morning they were moving at a much more leisurely pace than they had at any time during the drive.

  As the herd drew close to Fort Laramie, Elmer saw an officer and half a dozen soldiers coming from the fort to meet them.

  “Who is in charge here?” the young lieutenant asked when he and the soldiers reached the wagon.

  “It’s that feller back there, sonny,” Elmer said, enjoying the fact that the lieutenant winced at being called “sonny.”

  Duff saw the small group of soldiers stop and talk to Elmer. Then he saw the lieutenant leave the wagon and come toward him. Duff rode out toward the lieutenant to halve the distance between them.

  The young lieutenant saluted. “Your pardon, sir, but would you be Mr. MacCallister?”

  “Aye, Duff MacCallister,” Duff replied. “And you be from the fort to take the cows, would ye, Leftenant?”

  “Yes, sir. Lieutenant Bond is the name. Colonel Gibbon sent me with a contingent to show you where to take the cattle.”

  “When I met with the colonel yesterday, I was told that ye had feeder pens constructed.”

  “Yes, sir, we do have feeder lots, and our own abattoir,” the lieutenant said. “We’ll be processing the beef ourselves.”

  An hour later, all the cattle were in feeder pens and the drive was officially over.

  “Mr. MacCallister,” Lieutenant Bond said. “As I believe the colonel explained, it’ll be a few days before the disbursement officer comes up from Cheyenne. In the meantime, I’ve been instructed to offer you and your men the comforts of the post. You and your foreman can stay in the BOQ, and your men are welcome in the ba
rracks.”

  “And the young lady who is with us?”

  “Yes, sir, the colonel has made arrangements for her as well. He asks that she stay in Old Bedlam as the guest of the Colonel and Mrs. Gibbon.”

  “That’s very nice of the colonel.”

  “Tell me, Lieutenant, is there any place on this here army post where a fella can get a beer?” Bates asked.

  Lieutenant Bond chuckled. “There is, indeed,” he said. “I’m sure the sutler will be glad to take your money.”

  The first thing Duff did, after being assigned a room in the BOQ, was to take a bath, and get into clean clothes. He had just finished getting dressed, and was looking into the mirror, combing his hair, when there was a knock at the door. When he opened it, he saw a young, familiar-looking lieutenant, and he smiled, and stuck his hand out.

  “Lieutenant Pershing,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “It’s good to see you, too, Mr. MacCallister,” Pershing replied. “That is, as long as I don’t have to shoot against you.”

  “Oh? I thought perhaps a sportsman and competitor like you might want another go.”

  Pershing smiled, and nodded. “I might,” he said. “On the other hand, I’m not all that anxious to be shown up again.”

  “ ’Twas a lucky shot, Lieutenant. A lucky shot is all.”

  “Ha,” Pershing said. “One thing I do know is shooting. And believe me, Mr. MacCallister, when I say that was no lucky shot. I’ve no doubt but that you could have made that shot three out of three times, if you had to.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought your post was Fort Assiniboine.”

  “I’m on temporary duty here,” Pershing said, without going into specifics. “But the reason I’m here, standing outside your door, is to extend an invitation from Colonel Gibbon. He is hosting the officers of the Fifth and their ladies for dinner tonight and he has asked me to invite you. Your lady, I understand, is already the colonel’s guest.”

  Duff smiled. “Aye,” he said. “She is at that, isn’t she? Please tell the colonel for me that I would be glad to be his guest this evening.”

  “Oh, but I can’t attend a formal dinner like this,” Meagan said. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but I brought only working clothes with me, and when I say working clothes, I mean pants and shirts, like men.”

  “My dear, not to worry,” Kathleen Gibbon said. “You are about the same size as Mary Meacham, and she has a beautiful wardrobe. Mary is our surgeon’s daughter and I know she would be happy to lend you something that would be appropriate.”

  “Oh, do you think so? I would be ever so grateful,” Meagan said.

  “Come with me, and I’ll introduce you.”

  The table in the commandant’s quarters was perfectly balanced as far as men and women were concerned. On one side of the table, Pershing was sitting with Jason Holbrook’s sister, Clara, and Holbrook was sitting with Mary Meacham. On the other side of the table Duff was sitting with Meagan, and Major Phil Allison, who was second in command of the post, was sitting with his wife Julianne. Colonel Gibbon was at one end of the table and his wife, Kathleen, was at the opposite end.

  The meal had been cooked and served by orderlies, enlisted men for whom this was their job.

  “I’ve left instructions for one of the cows to be butchered, and carved into halves,” Colonel Gibbon said. “Tomorrow, Sergeant Beck, who informs me that he was the best pit master in the state of Texas, has agreed to undertake the task.”

  “Ah, so we’ll have barbecued beef tomorrow night,” Pershing said.

  “Not tomorrow night,” Colonel Gibbon said. “Sergeant Beck says that it will take him twenty-four hours to do the job properly, so it must be for the following day. I must say, I am looking forward to tasting Angus beef. I’ve not had it before.”

  “If you haven’t tasted it before, Colonel, then you are in for a treat,” Meagan said.

  Colonel Gibbon chuckled. “You don’t have to sell me, Miss Parker. The army has already committed to buy the beef.” Then, to the others, he explained, “Miss Parker owns half of the cows that were delivered.”

  “Maybe we won’t have a barbeque tomorrow night, but we will have a dance,” Kathleen Gibbon said. She smiled at Clara and Meagan. “And believe me, as there are so few women on the post, you two young ladies will be a most welcome addition.”

  “She isn’t just saying that,” Mary said. “There are so few women on the post that we have to dance every dance with someone different.”

  “Oh, my dear, I wouldn’t say we have to. I would say that it is our privilege to do so,” Kathleen said.

  “Yes, ma’am, of course that is the way I meant it.”

  “Tell me, Mr. MacCallister, did you encounter any Indians on the way here?” Colonel Gibbon asked.

  “Aye, but t’was only a minor encounter.”

  “Minor? He tried to kill me,” Meagan said.

  “Heavens, he tried to kill you, personally?” Kathleen asked with a gasp.

  Meagan smiled and put her hand on Duff’s arm. “If ever you have read a novel where the hero comes in the nick of time to save the lady, that’s what happened. Duff saved me.”

  “How did he save you?” Clara asked.

  “Why, he shot the Indian,” Meagan said easily.

  “Oh, my. How awful,” Clara said.

  Holbrook laughed. “Sis, if you think Mr. MacCallister shooting the Indian was awful, how much more awful would it have been had the Indian shot Miss Parker?”

  “Oh,” Clara said. “Oh, yes, I see what you mean.”

  “So, you did encounter hostiles,” Colonel Gibbon said.

  “Aye, but t’was only one, and I think his purpose may have been to steal a cow.”

  “But he took a shot at you?” Major Allison asked.

  “I think he saw Miss Parker and me, and may have felt that he had been discovered. And instead of running away, he took a shot at us.”

  “I swear the Indians are getting so bold again,” Julianne Allison said. “I thought the Indian question was all settled.”

  “It is all settled,” Colonel Gibbon replied. “These are isolated incidents, and the Indians who are causing the trouble now are as much outlaws among their own people as they are among us. And remember, we have our own outlaws to deal with.”

  “Yes,” Meagan said. “We encountered some of those as well.”

  “My goodness,” Clara said. “Your trip up here sounds as if it were quite”—she paused in her sentence, as if looking for a word—“exciting.”

  “I wonder if Captain Kirby and Lieutenant Scott have encountered any Indians,” Holbrook said.

  “I doubt it,” Pershing said.

  “Why do you doubt it, Lieutenant?” Major Allison asked.

  “Because the detachment is too large. Indians never initiate the engagement unless they are absolutely sure they will prevail. And since what we are dealing with here is but a small band of renegades, I am sure that they will not initiate any action against Captain Kirby.”

  “Yes, but suppose Captain Kirby initiates the engagement?” Major Allison asked.

  “He won’t be able to. An army unit under march is only slightly less noisy than a parading band.”

  Duff laughed out loud.

  “Hrrumph!” Major Allison grunted in dissatisfaction.

  “Lieutenant Pershing is correct, Phil. If the Indians don’t want to be engaged, they won’t be,” Colonel Gibbon said.

  “Then I don’t understand. What was the purpose of sending out the expedition?”

  “It had two purposes,” Colonel Gibbon replied. “One was to recover the bodies of our fallen comrades, and the other was to present a show of strength, to let the renegade Indians know that they continue their adventure at their own peril.”

  Although Elmer had been invited to dinner as well, he begged off saying that the dinner would be a “bit too hoity-toity” for him. He preferred the sutler’s store, which was the social hub of Fo
rt Laramie. Here, the officers and men could buy anything from a razor to a can of peaches, to a beer or whiskey. The latest books and newspapers from the East were also on sale, though as they came up by coach from Cheyenne after having arrived in that city by train, they were normally two weeks old. Tonight, while Duff and Meagan were having dinner with the post commandant, Elmer was at the sutler’s, eating pickled pigs’ feet, and enjoying a beer.

  Sherman, Bates, and Ford had come to the sutler’s store with him, and the four men found a table and were enjoying drinks and conversation.

  “You the fellas that brought in the cattle?” a sergeant asked, coming over to their table.

  “That we are, Sergeant, that we are,” Elmer said.

  The sergeant smiled, then stuck out his hand. “The name is Beck,” he said. “Roy Beck.”

  “I’m Elmer Gleason, these here boys is Sherman, Bates, and Ford. It’s good to meet you.”

  “Well, Mr. Gleason, tomorrow I intend to barbeque one of those steers. I hope you boys can stick around long enough to be able to taste it. I guarantee you, it’s goin’ to be the best thing you’ve ever put in your mouth.”

  “Tell me, Sergeant Beck, have you ever cooked Angus beef?” Elmer asked.

  “No, not so’s I can remember.”

  “Believe me,” Elmer said. “If you had cooked it, you would remember. Now me, I’ve et just about ever’ thing from rats to buffalo hump . . . and the best thing I’ve ever et is Angus beef. So I hope you know what you’re a’ doin’.”

  “I could barbeque a boot and make it good. So if Angus is as good as you say it is, then we are goin’ to have some prime eatin’.”

  “Good enough,” Elmer said. “Why don’t you join me ’n’ my friends?”

  “I’d be glad to,” Beck said, reaching over to get an empty chair from an adjacent table.

  “Rats?” Sergeant Beck asked.

  “Down in Louisiana, it was. Some folks call ’em nutrias, but what they is is big rats. They taste a lot like possum.”