Sixkiller, U.S. Marshal

by William W. Johnstone

  Joy took the paper from Chanute, opened it to scan the front page, then he smiled.

  “I’ll be damned,” he said.

  “Read the story.”

  Railroad Construction Stopped

  Construction of the railroad into Indian Territory has been halted due to a raid by a group of renegade Indians who call themselves the Indian Independence Council. It is not known who the members of the Indian Independence Council are, but by their action they are denying the good people of Indian Territory the many benefits that would be derived by having a railroad that could both provide rapid transportation, and freight service. The railroad will allow us to ship our cattle and agricultural goods to the rest of the nation, as well as bring goods in at a price much less than the cost of wagon freight.

  Every Cherokee, indeed, every citizen of the Indian Territory, regardless of tribe, should hold these renegades in scorn. We pride ourselves on our civilization, yet this kind of action makes us no different from the wild aborigines of the plains.

  I call upon all good citizens of The Nations to report anyone known to be a member of the illegal Indian Independence Council to the proper authorities.

  “What is Stevens going to do about this?” Joy asked when he finished reading the paper.

  “I’ve heard that he is going to call the army in.”

  “Ha! That will never happen! The last thing our government wants is a war with any of the Civilized Tribes. Octave, my boy, this isn’t over yet. I’m going to submit an appeal.”

  “Who are you going to appeal to?”

  “Why, to the person who made the determination in the first place. He made the decision; he certainly has the power to change his mind if given sufficient reason. And I am going to give him reason.”

  To Secretary of the Interior

  The Honorable J.D. Cox

  Sir, I ask that the award of the right to build a railroad through the Indian Territory, awarded to the KATY Line be revoked, or at least suspended until such time as my appeal can be acted upon.

  My appeal is based upon the following reasons:

  1. There is no satisfactory evidence placed before your department that the character of the KATY is that of a good and completed road.

  2. The KATY has failed to establish a satisfactory relationship with the Indians through which the proposed road will pass. Without cooperation of the Indians, no railroad can, nor should it be built.

  3. The Border Tier Railroad promises to make such compromises with the Indians as to guarantee their full cooperation and unrestrained right of passage.

  James Joy

  President, Border Tier Railroad

  Fort Riley, Kansas

  Colonel Albert J. Smith, commandant of the 7th Cavalry at Fort Riley, put his fingers together forming a steeple as he sat back in his chair to listen to Robert Stevens.

  “We have permission of the United States Government, and we have the permission of the Cherokee governing council,” Stevens said. “It must be obvious that the ones who are attacking us represent only a few.”

  “Who are the Indian Independence Council?” Colonel Smith asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of them.”

  “As I understand it, they were an irregular band of Indians who fought during the Civil War.”

  “Really? For whose side?”

  “From what I’ve been told, it was their own side. They want to establish the Indian Territory as an independent nation, and evidently they look at the railroad as a threat to that endeavor,” Stevens said.

  “Still, Colonel Stevens, what you are asking is for me to have a military presence inside the Indian Territory. Why, that would be the same thing as launching an invasion. I don’t think the Indians would appreciate that.”

  “Colonel, without some protection, we won’t be able to build the railroad, and that’s a fact.”

  “I’m sure you will come up with some solution, Colonel Stevens,” Smith said, standing to indicate that the meeting was over. “But sending the military in, isn’t it.”

  “What did the army say?” Gunn asked when Stevens returned to Chetopa.

  “They won’t send in any troops.”

  “So, what do we do now?”

  “I’ll send for Marshal Sixkiller. He is both a United States Marshal and an Indian. Who better to handle this for us?”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Mr. James Joy

  President, Border Tier Railroad

  Mr. Joy:

  The award to KATY Railroad was made in accordance with the information delivered to this office by James M. Harvey, Governor of the State of Kansas, to wit:

  That the Union Pacific Railway, Southern Branch, renamed the KATY reached the northern boundary of the Indian Territory, in the valley of the Neosho River, on the west side and about one mile therefrom, at 12 noon on the 6th day of June, 1870, and that at that time there was no other railroad nearer than sixteen miles of that point.

  1. That on the 9th day of June, 1870, Governor Harvey, the officer specified by Act of Congress to pronounce upon the completion of this railroad, certified over his official seal and signature, that the same was a first-class completed railroad to the northern boundary of the Indian Territory.

  To that end, Mr. Joy, your appeal for reconsideration is denied, and no further appeal or correspondence with regard to the railroad to be built in Indian Territory will be considered.

  Your Obedient Servant,

  J. D. Cox

  Secretary of the Interior

  “What do we do now?

  “Nothing,” Joy said, dejectedly. “For us, it is over.”

  John Henry was with the advance surveying party, eating a biscuit and a piece of bacon as he watched the men at work.

  “Marshal!” Fairman called to him. “It looks like we have company coming!”

  Fairman pointed to the west where three men were riding hard toward the group of workers. All three had pistols in their hands, and all three were shooting. One of the surveyors was hit, and he went down.

  John Henry jacked a shell into the Winchester he was carrying, raised it to his shoulder and fired. One of the three riders was unseated. When he fired a second time, a second rider was unseated, and the third rider turned and rode away.

  “You stopped ’em!” Fairman shouted. “You stopped ’em!”

  John Henry went quickly to the wounded surveyor, and saw that he had been hit in the leg. He treated him and, because the man said he was able to ride, John Henry rode back with him to end of track, where he was put on a train to be taken back to Emporia, which had the nearest doctor.

  Tahlequah

  “We’ve got to get rid of John Henry Sixkiller,” Willie Buck said. “We aren’t going to get anything done until he’s gone.”

  “He’s not an easy man to get rid of,” Eberwine said, thinking of the incident with Matt Dixon.

  “We just haven’t been going about it the right way,” Buck said.

  “You say that as if you have an idea.”

  “I do have an idea.”

  “Well, let’s hear it. I’m always open to new ideas. It’s for sure that nothing we have tried so far has worked.”

  “We just haven’t used the right bait,” Buck said.

  “And you have the right bait?”

  “Not yet. But I can get it.”

  “Good. Then get it.”

  “It’s going to cost you.”

  “What do you mean it’s going to cost me? I thought we had a mutual interest in keeping the railroad out.”

  “Our interest is going to be more mutual when you make me a full partner in your freight wagon business.”

  “Why should I do that?”

  “Because you have no choice. You either make me a partner and keep half of your business, or stand by and watch the railroad come in and lose all your business.”

  Eberwine drummed his fingers on his desk as he stared, angrily, at Willie Buck. “You have just taken our relationship into a new dimens
ion,” he said.

  “Yes, I have. So, what will it be? Do I get rid of Sixkiller for you?”

  “All right, you have backed me into a corner,” Eberwine said. “If you get rid of Sixkiller, then half the business is yours. If you fail, you get nothing.”

  “If I fail, there won’t be anything to divide anyway,” Buck replied.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Sasha Quiet Stream.”

  “Who is that?”

  “A better question would be ‘What is that?’ Sasha Quiet Stream is bait for the trap.”

  John Henry was having breakfast with Stevens and Gunn when one of the track workers knocked on the door of the Prairie Queen.

  “Yes?” Stevens called out.

  “Colonel Stevens, some Injun just gave me this note and told me to give it to Marshal Sixkiller.”

  “All right, bring it in,” Steven said.

  The track worker came in, handed the note to John Henry, then turned and started to leave.

  “Wait,” John Henry called.

  The man stopped as John Henry read the note.

  “What is it, Marshal?” Stevens asked.

  John Henry’s face reflected anger, as he showed the note to Stevens.

  Once, many years ago you rescued Sasha Quiet Stream from me. Now I have her again. Are you still the hero? If you want to see her alive again, come to the Two Feathers Ranch. Willie Buck

  “Who is Sasha Quiet Stream?”

  “She is an innocent young woman.”

  “Does she mean something to you?”

  “Yes,” John Henry said without further elaboration. He got up from the breakfast table.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to get her.”

  “Marshal, you are an intelligent man. I’m sure you know that this is exactly what they want you to do. They are using her as bait to try and draw you into a trap.”

  “Yes,” John Henry said. Again, it was a one word response, without elaboration.

  Eberwine had Willie Buck bring Sasha to the Two Feathers Ranch, which Eberwine owned. Willie Buck had brought six men with him, and Eberwine had ten men working at his ranch. That was sixteen men, eighteen if you counted Willie Buck and Eberwine. That certainly should be enough to handle one man. And, as an additional inducement, Eberwine had offered one hundred dollars per man, to be paid when they brought Sixkiller’s body to him, with an additional one thousand to be paid to the man who actually killed him. At the moment, Eberwine was in the house with Sasha, who was tied to a chair.

  “Why are you doing this?” Sasha asked. “I thought you were a friend to the Indians.”

  “Oh, I have a lot of Indian friends,” Eberwine said. “It’s just that Marshal Sixkiller isn’t one of them.”

  Leaving her behind, Eberwine stepped out onto the front porch of his ranch house. Willie Buck was standing on the porch. Dennis Redbone was there as well. Dennis was Lucas Redbone’s brother and he was aching for revenge against John Henry.

  “I want all the men well out of sight. Keep one in the loft in the barn as a lookout,” Eberwine said.

  “Why? He can’t get here without coming through the pass. Why don’t we just go down there and shoot him when he comes through?” Willie Buck suggested.

  “We’re going to do that. I’ve got four men down to the pass, you can send out another four. Tell them to shoot him on sight. We’ll keep eight men back here, just in case he gets through the men we send for him.”

  “How is he going to get through?” Dennis Redbone asked. “We’re not waiting for a troop of horse soldiers. John Henry is just one man.”

  “Your brother thought that, too, didn’t he?” Eberwine asked. “Where did it get him?”

  “All right, all right, we’ll do it your way. I just want him dead, whatever it takes.”

  “Well, then we are all reading off the same page, aren’t we?” Eberwine replied.

  John Henry saw four men coming toward him. He was sitting calmly on top of a large round rock, watching, as four riders approached a narrow draw. The draw was so confined that they would not be able to get through without squeezing into a single file. It was a place that no one with any tactical sense would go. But these were not men with a sense of tactics.

  John Henry stood up so he could clearly be seen against the skyline. He stood there until he knew he had been seen.

  “Look! There he is!” The voice of one of the four men floated up to him.

  “He’s up there!”

  “Let’s get him!”

  The riders galloped through the draw, bent on capturing or killing John Henry.

  A couple of the men in front thought John Henry made an easy target, so they pulled their pistols and began shooting up toward him as they rode. John Henry could see the flash of the gunshots, then the little puffs of dust as the bullets hit around him. The spent bullets whined as they ricocheted through the little draw, but none of the missiles came close enough to cause him to duck.

  John Henry had rolled himself a cigarette and now he leaned over, and using the burning tip, lit two fuses. A little line of sparks started at each fuse, then ran sputtering along the length of fuse for several feet alongside the draw. The first explosion went off about fifty yards in front of the lead rider, a heavy, stomach-shaking thump that filled the draw with smoke and dust, then brought a ton of rocks crashing down to close the draw that the riders couldn’t get through.

  The second explosion, somewhat less powerful, was located behind the riders. It also brought rocks crashing down into the draw behind the riders, and that effectively closed the passage off, trapping the riders inside. It was going to take them quite a while to dig their way out of this.

  John Henry scrambled down off the rock. He had left his horse on the other side, and now he mounted and rode on, leaving behind the four trapped men.

  John Henry rode no more than a quarter of a mile before he saw another four riders. Attracted by the sound of the explosions, they were hurrying over to see what it was.

  “There he is!” someone shouted excitedly, pointing toward John Henry.

  “Get him!” another yelled.

  All four riders started after John Henry at a full gallop.

  John Henry turned Iron Heart into a nearby thicket. The tree limbs slapped painfully against his face and arms, but they closed behind him, too, so that he was hidden from view. John Henry slowed his horse just enough to hop off, then he slapped him on the haunch, sending him on. After that he squatted down behind a juniper and waited.

  In less than ten seconds, his pursuers came by. As the last rider came by, John Henry reached up and grabbed him, then jerked him off his horse. The man gave a short, startled cry as he was going down, but the cry was cut off when he broke his neck in the fall.

  The rider just in front of that rider heard the cry and he looked around in time to see what was happening.

  “Hey! He’s back here!” he called. This rider had been riding with his pistol in his hand, so he was able to get off a shot at almost the same moment he yelled.

  The bullet grazed the fleshy part of John Henry’s arm, causing a deep, painful crease. John Henry fired back, knocking the rider off his horse.

  The other two riders suddenly realized that in the space of a few seconds, John Henry had cut the odds down to two to one. Those odds weren’t to their liking, so they turned and galloped away.

  John Henry called Iron Heart to him, mounted, and continued on toward the main house.

  Eberwine had gone back into his house and now he stood there, looking through the window of his study. In addition to the pistol in his holster, there was another on the desk behind him, loaded and easy to get to. He couldn’t imagine Sixkiller getting through everyone else to get to him, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.

  Eberwine closed the drapes, then looked around at his prisoner.

  “What was all the shooting?” Sasha asked.

  “Oh, I expect it’s your he
ro come to rescue you,” Eberwine said. “What a fool he is. He has fallen right into the trap, just as Willie Buck said he would.”

  “You may be the one who is in the trap,” Sasha suggested.

  Eberwine chuckled. “Oh, you think so, do you? One can almost admire the man for engendering such childish faith in others.”

  There were several more shots fired from outside, not too far from the house. Startled, Eberwine hurried over to peek through the drapes.

  “Sounds like he’s getting closer,” Sasha said.

  “I’d better go check on things,” Eberwine said, starting toward the door.

  “Mr. Eberwine?” Sasha called.

  “Yes?” Eberwine looked back toward her.

  “I think you may die this night.”

  Chapter Thirty-three

  “It wasn’t anything,” Willie Buck said, answering Eberwine’s query about the cause of the shooting. “Just some of the men shooting at ghosts, that’s all.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Willie Buck was good at his job. He had also known John Henry since both were boys, and he knew that John Henry Sixkiller was a person who did what he set out to do. That meant that no matter where he was now, he was going to turn up here, at the main house. This is where Sasha Quiet Stream was, and she was John Henry’s goal.

  He found himself wishing that John Henry would show up here. He had spent a lifetime being outdone by Sixkiller. It would give him a lot of satisfaction to be the one to kill him tonight. And then, after John Henry was killed, Willie Buck had his own plans for the girl, plans that he hadn’t shared with anyone else.

  “What are you doing hanging around here? Why aren’t you out looking for him?”