Riding out ahead of the wagons, Tanner and Jeb served as scouts, primarily to make sure the main trail was picked up, but also to keep an eye out for the two wagons that had left earlier. There was not a great deal of conversation between them as they rode the almost treeless plain. Jeb, usually talkative to a fault, was un-characteristically quiet, due, Tanner figured, to a slight feeling of guilt. He figured he was the cause of the uneasy cloud hanging over the folks in the train. But he could not in good conscience say that he would not do the same thing again. Tanner had assured him that he had acted properly. The girl, Cora, should not have been subjected to such brutal treatment—by her husband’s hand, or that of any other.
The day progressed without incident. The Leach brothers’ tracks were quite clear. They had stuck to the main trail, but it was evident that the wagon train was not gaining on them. Roughly an hour before going into camp for the night, Tanner pointed out that the two wagons they followed had cut off the main trail and taken a smaller track that led due north.
“You think those bastards might be doublin’ back on us?” Jeb asked.
“Maybe,” Tanner replied while studying the prints of the wagon wheels where they veered off to follow a small stream. “Might be they just decided to fork off here and camp a ways up this little stream. I expect it would be best for us to follow their tracks for a while and maybe see what they’re up to. We’ll ride back and tell Jacob where we’re goin’.”
When the train caught up to them, Tanner decided it might be a good idea to ask Cora a few questions. Jacob and his people had assumed that the brothers were heading west for the same purpose as everyone else in the train. Tanner was a little more curious now. Upon questioning, Cora enlightened them on Garth Leach’s reasons for traveling west. Reluctant to say more than she had to at first, primarily because of a feeling of guilt for having been with them, she admitted that her husband had no intention of homesteading.
There were scant articles of furniture or tools in either of the two wagons driven by the brothers. Instead, they were loaded with whiskey kegs and rifles stolen from the army. Some of the whiskey was sold at Fort Larned, but most of it, and all the weapons, were slated for trade with the Indians.
Jeb could hold his curiosity in check no longer. “How in the big blue-eyed world did you ever get mixed up with the likes of Joe Leach?”
Cora looked down in shame, as if she was somehow guilty for the union. “My daddy used to ride with Garth Leach,” she replied, her words soft and halting. “He cheated Joe out of some money they took from a bank, hid it in his hat. Joe found out Daddy cheated him, and wanted Garth to kill him. Daddy begged him not to kill him, and Garth asked Joe what it would take to let him live. Joe said they’d be square if he could have me.”
“Jesus Christ!” Jeb blurted out. “And your daddy gave you away?” He shook his head, amazed. “Didn’t you have any say about it?”
“I wasn’t but thirteen. I didn’t know what to do,” she said, ashamed.
Tanner shook his head and turned away. Speaking to Jacob Freeman then, he said, “Jeb and I’ll follow their trail to see if they’re thinkin’ about doublin’ back. I expect it would be a good idea to camp right here where there’s water. This stream is the first one we’ve crossed all day. I reckon they don’t call this the Dry Route for nothin’.”
The trail that Garth Leach and his brothers had taken was one that had evidently been traveled a great deal. There were old and new tracks that followed the narrow path down a ravine and along the small stream. Most of the tracks were made by unshod hooves, indicating that the trail was a popular route of the Indians. Leading toward a line of hills in the distance, the trail never wavered in its northern course. “If they’re thinkin’ about doublin’ back on us, they woulda cut back by now,” Jeb remarked.
“I expect you’re right,” Tanner agreed.
By the time the sun started to sink below the hills to the west, they prepared to turn back, knowing that it would soon be too dark to follow the wagon tracks.
“Hold on a minute,” Tanner said. “I smell smoke.”
Jeb stood up in the stirrups and sniffed the air. “Yeah, me too,” he said.
They scanned the open range before them, finally deciding the smell came from a campfire beyond a low rise a little off to the west. Riding to the base of the slope, they dismounted and made their way up to the top of the rise, where they dropped to their hands and knees. On the other side of the rise, in a wide ravine, they saw the two wagons.
Lying on their bellies, they located all four brothers. Joe was tending the fire while the others were taking care of the horses. After watching for a few minutes, Tanner decided, “It doesn’t look like they’re thinkin’ about anything but headin’ north and sellin’ their rifles and whiskey.”
“I reckon they’re done with the wagon train, all right,” Jeb said. “Didn’t figure ’em for that—not that mean son of a bitch Garth.” After a moment more, he pulled his rifle up beside him and sighted it on one of the brothers. “We oughta do the world a favor and cut the bastards down right now,” he growled.
“Maybe,” Tanner said. “But I reckon we got the girl away from them. We might as well call it even, and get on back while there’s enough light to find our way.” Jeb shook his head and grimaced, reluctant to withdraw. It would have been a risky shot at that distance in the fading light, anyway. Tanner was right. Let the bastards go as long as they were headed away from the wagon train.
It was hard dark by the time the two partners rejoined the wagons. Had it not been for the campfires to guide on, Tanner and Jeb might have missed them altogether. The night did not remain cloaked in darkness for long after their arrival, however. Tanner paused as he pulled the saddle off Ashes’ back to look at a full moon rising over the hills behind them.
“We coulda sure used that a while back when we were stumblin’ around in the dark,” Jeb said.
“I reckon,” Tanner agreed. Then, hearing footsteps behind him, he turned to see Jacob and Floyd approaching.
“Well,” Jacob said, “you two don’t look like you’re excited about anything, so I expect the Leaches ain’t right on your heels.”
“No, sir,” Tanner replied. “We followed ’em till they made camp. They were still headin’ straight north. Didn’t look like they were thinkin’ about doublin’ back on us.”
Visibly relieved, Jacob nodded, then turned to look at Floyd, who nodded in answer. “I’m mighty glad to see the last of that bunch,” Jacob said.
“Me and Tanner was talkin’ about our plans on the way back here,” Jeb said. “We figured we’d ride along with you folks for another day or so before we head north, maybe until you make Fort Dodge.”
“We appreciate it,” Jacob returned. “You sure you boys don’t wanna tag along with us to Fort Lyon? Like I told you before, we’re plannin’ to turn north from there. We’d be glad to have you stay with us.”
“I expect we’ll head on alone,” Tanner said. “We’ll move a whole lot faster than the wagons.”
“Might be safer with us,” Jacob said, still trying to persuade them. “There’s been a lot of Injun trouble north of here.”
“I reckon we’ll just chance it,” Tanner replied.
“It’s still early in the summer, Tanner,” Jeb suggested. “I don’t see where a couple of more days would hurt.”
Tanner cast a sideways glance at his partner, and couldn’t help but smile. There was little doubt as to why Jeb wanted to stay with the wagons for a while longer. The fact that the slender victim of Joe Leach’s abuse had already seen a lifetime of man’s cruelty in her young years did nothing to discourage his interest in her. Tanner knew that part of that interest was Jeb’s natural empathy for someone that fate had treated so unfairly. Seeing a grin creep slowly across Jeb’s face as he waited for his response, Tanner found it hard to refuse him. “I suppose we could hang around for a few more days after Fort Dodge,” he finally allowed.
Breaking camp ea
rly the second day out of Fort Larned, Garth Leach pushed the mules hard until reaching the Walnut River. Then he turned the two wagons west, following the river until almost sundown. Riding up beside the lead wagon, he told his brother Jesse, “We’ll make camp here.” He turned in the saddle and signaled Ike in the wagon behind to pull up beside. They were joined in a few seconds by Joe, who, like Garth, was on horseback.
When Joe rode up and dismounted, Garth said, “Joe, you get a fire started and cook us some supper.” When Joe’s face screwed up into a pout, Garth cut his protest short. “Damn you, you lost us our cook, so, by God, you’ll be the cook till we get her back.”
“Damn, Garth, that ain’t fair,” Joe whined.
“That’s right, Blue,” Jesse teased. He had started calling his younger brother Blue since Joe’s broken nose and cheeks were still a dark shade of bluish gray, a result of the smashing right fist of Jeb Hawkins. “Maybe when we get Cora back, I’ll take her for a wife. I’ll guarantee you, she won’t leave me.” He laughed then. “She won’t wanna leave me, after she’s been with a real man.” The big simpleminded man threw his head back and roared with laughter.
Ignoring Jesse’s innocuous prattle, Joe pressed Garth. “When are we gonna go back and get my wife?” Knowing that he was held in contempt for his failure to settle with Jeb Hawkins at the time, he was desperate to regain his standing as a Leach. “I’ve got a score to settle with that son of a bitch. He caught me when I wasn’t lookin’, and I’m gonna kill him.”
“You shoulda kilt him when he done it,” Ike commented dryly.
Garth continued to gaze at his youngest brother with eyes filled with disgust. After a moment he spoke. “We’ll go back when I say we’ll go back,” he growled. “I’ve got a score to settle myself. I want that whole wagon train rubbed out, and I expect Yellow Calf might just be interested in a little party—after we sell him these rifles.”
Morning saw the four back on the trail again, following the river west. Upon reaching the junction where the Walnut forked, they took the southernmost. The afternoon found them approaching the Kiowa village of Yellow Calf. Garth rode on ahead of the wagons. Some Kiowa boys watching the pony herd gave the alarm that visitors were coming.
Yellow Calf walked to the center of the camp to see who was approaching. Seeing the huge man on horseback, he grunted, “Big Bear,” the name the Kiowa had given Garth Leach. The two wagons behind Leach immediately caught his interest. Big Bear had traded whiskey on more than one occasion. On his last visit, Yellow Calf had insisted no more whiskey. Bring rifles, he said, or the four white men would not be welcome in his village. Yellow Calf went down to the river’s edge to await Garth’s crossing.
Garth permitted a smug smile to crease his stern features when he saw the Kiowa chief coming down to meet him. “Yellow Calf,” he called out and raised his hand in greeting.
“Big Bear,” Yellow Calf replied. “I see you have come back. What have you got in your wagons?”
“I remember what you told me last time,” Garth answered. He turned to point toward the wagons, now approaching the riverbank. “Guns,” he proclaimed. “Guns and ammunition, enough to arm half your warriors.” Garth expected to trade the rifles for enough buffalo robes to fill both wagons. Yellow Calf’s eyebrows lifted and his eyes grew large. Garth chuckled. “Your enemies will fear you now,” he said.
“Ah,” Yellow Calf replied, eager to see the weapons. “The guns that shoot many times?” he asked.
“Well, no, these ain’t repeatin’ rifles,” Garth admitted. “But these is good rifles, the same kind the soldiers use—load fast, shoot straight.” He didn’t add that the weapons were surplus arms, some in various states of disrepair, but generally functional.
Yellow Calf was disappointed. He wanted the lightweight carbines the cavalry used, but he would not turn down the Springfields, for there were no more than half a dozen guns in his entire village, and they were old muzzleloaders. For the sake of the trade, however, he continued to display an air of disappointment. “Maybe I wait till I get guns that shoot many times,” he said as he watched the wagons ford the river. When they pulled up on the bank, the drivers halted the mules and the wagons were immediately surrounded by Yellow Calf’s people. The three brothers climbed down and stood aside, cautiously watching the Kiowa pressing close around the wagons.
Unperturbed by the chief’s show of indifference, Garth said, “I might have somethin’ else to sweeten the deal. I can lead you to a wagon train of white settlers, carryin’ a lot of things your women could use, and more guns, too. No soldiers, just farmers and women. You’ll have more guns than they have.” Garth could see that the chief was thinking this over with a great deal of interest.
“You will lead us to these people?”
“Hell, yeah. I’ll lead you there. Me and my brothers will fight side by side with your warriors. There is one woman that I want. Everything else is yours.”
Chapter 8
Eleanor Marshall Bland carefully folded the dish towel and hung it on a hook by the kitchen window. She paused to look at it for a moment, not really seeing the towel, her mind wandering aimlessly. Feeling older than her years, she sighed as she removed her apron and hung it on the back of the pantry door. Breakfast over and the dishes done, she started down the hall to the bedrooms, barely glancing at her image in the hall mirror as she passed. She had decided to wash clothes today, since it promised to be sunny.
Stripping the sheets from the bed, she could not avoid thinking about the night just past. Trenton had attempted to make love, but failed once again to perform, which threw him into another fit of depression. She knew his despair was exacerbated by a suspicion that she was relieved when he could not achieve satisfaction. She tried not to show her reluctance to meet his desires, having made a vow that she would try to be a good wife to him. It was extremely difficult to hide even a little slip in her emotions, however, and she was afraid he was aware of every one, at times making comments that her mind was elsewhere. Although she always denied it, he was correct in his judgment, for she lived in her own world of despair, unable to forget what might have been.
Gathering up the sheets, she went to her father’s room to strip the sheets from his bed. Trenton and Travis, along with their father, had gone to the lower end of the cornfield to work on a house for the newly married couple. Their own house. Eleanor dreaded the thought of it. An ideal setting for the house would have been the glade by the creek between her father’s house and Trenton’s father’s house. No one could understand why she rejected it, favoring a site farther up the creek near the corner of the cornfield. Though he never spoke of it, she suspected that Trenton may have guessed the reason for her reluctance to build their home near the footbridge.
“The damn war,” she suddenly heard herself exclaim. She blamed the war for destroying her dreams, dreams she had nurtured since she was a girl, slipping away from the house to meet Tanner Bland by the footbridge. The thought of Tanner brought a sense of longing that weighed on her heart like a stone, and she tried to send her mind elsewhere. But it kept returning to the image she carried with her of his face, frozen hard with bitter anguish as he confronted the wedding party. “I wish I was dead!” she blurted. Then at once contrite, she asked God for forgiveness for saying such a sinful thing. She returned her blame to the war—for her unhappiness, for a despairing husband who sought his solace in a bottle, and for her inability to forget the man she loved. Feeling guilty then for her grieving, she reprimanded herself. Trenton was a good man. None of this was his fault. It was her responsibility to make their marriage work. “I’ll try to do better,” she said.
With the tallgrass country well behind them, Jacob Freeman’s wagon train crossed great expanses of short-grass plains where wide trails left by migrating buffalo intersected their line of travel. The flat land before them seemed endless, with occasional hills and ribbons of cottonwoods wherever streams or creeks were found. Jeb seemed content to stay close to the wagons, mo
st of the time beside Jacob’s, where he could get occasional glimpses of Cora Leach. The frightened girl became a little less shy each day, even to the point that she would exchange a few words of conversation with the strapping young man who had defended her.
Unlike his carefree partner, Tanner was not entirely comfortable around a crowd of people. Feeling boxed in, even with folks as friendly as Jacob’s company, he felt the need for room to breathe. Consequently, he contented himself with far-ranging scouting forays away from the wagon train where he could feel the country and study the game trails. As a result, he was seldom seen between dawn and dusk. Of particular interest to him were reports he had heard of the massive buffalo herds that roamed the short-grass plains. He had it in his mind to kill a buffalo, for up to this point, he had only heard tales of the great animal so important to the Indians’ existence. He knew that Jacob and the others would appreciate a fresh supply of meat as well.
It was late in the afternoon when the train happened upon a small stream and Jacob decided to make camp. While the wagons were being circled and the teams unhitched, Jeb led his horse down to the stream to drink. It was by no coincidence that Cora happened to be there filling a bucket when he arrived. Hearing the horse’s hooves behind her, she jerked her head around, alarmed. Met with his warm smile, she blushed, ashamed that she had reacted so.
“I declare, Miss Cora, when are you gonna stop jumping every time I come up on you?” He dropped the reins and stepped back to let his horse drink. “You’ve got nothin’ to fear from me.”
“I know,” she admitted softly. “I’m sorry I jumped. I’m just…” She couldn’t continue.
“I understand,” Jeb assured her. “I’d like to show you that all men ain’t like that no-good you were married to. Most men would appreciate a fine young lady like yourself.”
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