by Don Bendell
One of Hartwell’s bodyguards, Kirby Hoover, moved forward along the trees to find out what was happening because of the thunderous shooting. He saw bloody men sprawled all over the front area of the house. While there, Kirby saw four who took off into the trees west of the house at a dead run, apparently quitting the gang as quickly as they had joined it with promises of rich bounties.
Hoover returned to his boss and knelt down saying, “Mr. Hartwell, we need to get you out of here and to a doctor. That hombre has a Gatling gun in the house, and he just killed over half the posse in just a couple minutes’ time.”
Hartwell said, “Very well. Tell them to continue the siege but to be careful. Then set fire to the house and barns.”
The bodyguards got Hartwell up and into the saddle.
He said, “Kirby, you stay here and run this thing. I want Strongheart burned to a crisp if he doesn’t come out. No witnesses.”
“You got it, boss,” Kirby said, as he took off toward the house.
One brave soul made it up close to the eastern porch on the side of the house and tossed a torch up onto the veranda. It started catching the outer wall of the house, and the flames quickly started shooting up. All the rest were hiding behind trees, rocks, troughs, or anything available. The Gatling gun had made believers out of most of them.
Strongheart, in the meantime, out of bullets for his machine gun, dismantled it from its mount so he could carry the big gun through the hidden door and place it inside the passageway. He just wanted to keep Hartwell’s men from getting their hands on it. He carried the gun into the passageway, ran back to the front windows, and fired a couple shots out into the midst of the besiegers. Joshua wanted to keep their heads down longer. It worked.
He went into the cabin on the island and Brenna ran into his arms. She started sobbing and then caught herself and stepped back.
She said, “Take off your shirt and sit down here at the table.”
She already had medicine, bandaging, a pan with soap and water, and a small bottle of whiskey. He complied, and she started dressing his wound.
“Thank you, Brenna,” he said, not knowing what else to say.
They could now hear the crackling and explosions from the mansion burning and tears started dropping down her cheeks. He took her hands and set down the rest of the bandage and pulled her against him, letting her head rest on his big chest. She started bawling her eyes out, while Strongheart softly stroked her hair. She cried for five minutes, then collected herself and stepped back with a sniffle here and sniffle there. She set her jaw defiantly.
“Joshua, thank you, but it is gone now, and I can do nothing about it,” she said, sniffling. “I would be glad to lose it all just to have Sammy alive right now. Will we be killed, too?”
“No, we won’t.” Strongheart said. “I promise you.”
“What will happen?” she replied.
He said, “We need to pack what we can for tonight. We will leave after dark and find our horses. We should take naps, eat, and get ready in a while.”
“Okay, you know how to handle things like this better than me,” she responded, fighting tears now.
They both lay down in the two rooms to take naps, but after a few minutes she called Joshua. He walked to her doorway. She was crying again.
Sticking out her arms, she said, “Joshua, please hold me awhile?”
He smiled softly and walked over to her bed and lay down. He gently placed her head on his massive pectoral muscle, and she started sobbing again. They awakened a few hours later and the sun was still in the sky but getting ready to disappear under its covers for the night. Joshua gave her a kiss and walked to his roll and saddlebags.
She got up, joining him, and said, “What do we do?”
She watched with curiosity as he spread out his large slicker. Then he carefully folded his stuff on top of it. Then he walked out of the cabin, returning a few minutes later with his shirt removed. He had tied the neck together with a piece of fringe and used it as a bag. It was filled with small sticks and pine cones. He poured them all over his equipment on the slicker. Then he rolled up his shirt and put it in the pile. Brenna marveled at his rippling muscles and the numerous scars all over his upper torso. They told a story of danger and excitement, and this man excited her more than any she had ever met. In fact, she knew she was already in love with him.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Well,” he replied, “making a raft, a waterproof one.”
She cocked her head to the side wondering what he meant.
He explained, as if reading her thoughts, “I am sure I saw a couple tarps in the other room, oilskin, I believe. I will tie these up tight, so that water cannot get in. With pine needles, pine cones, and sticks they will float. I’ll make one for you and one for me. We will float across the pond just quietly kicking with our feet, so we do not make noise. Then we will run a ways through the trees and then stop and get dressed.”
“Get dressed?” she said.
Joshua smiled, saying, “Brenna, this is a life-or-death situation, so I hope you are not going to be too modest. Whatever we wear will get wet, and we will be riding hard, for hours, wearing it wet. I will be naked, and if you are smart, you will be, too.”
She replied, “Oh my. Will you look?”
He smiled, “Probably.”
She grinned, her face tomato red.
“I will do whatever you say, Joshua. Like you, I am a survivor,” she said.
They ate and then shortly after, made their way through the trees to the end of the island, seeing easily in the dense small forest because of the flames still licking the sky from the burning mansion, barns, and outbuildings. They could hear happy voices, and Strongheart knew that the fools figured he and she had perished.
At the end of the point, sitting between some pines, they both started undressing, packing their clothes in the two rafts, which Strongheart tightly sealed by rolling the seams together and then tightly bound them with his lariat and some piggin strings.
Now, seeing each other’s nude bodies clearly in the glow from the flaming sky nearby, they both marveled at the other. They did so in silence, though, because, as Joshua had said, this was survival, pure and simple. They made it across the pond, only visible to Hartwell’s group for maybe ten feet and nobody was looking anyway and might mistake them at a distance for geese or a couple of beavers.
Entering the dark trees on the far shore, Joshua reached back, taking her hand and, both carrying their rafts, he led them through the darkness. Joshua could see much better than she because he closed his left eye whenever they were in sight of the bright flames from the heinous act of arson. As a warrior, he knew that closing one eye when exposed to light and then opening it after getting back into the dark, makes the eye quickly adjust to the darkness. This happens within seconds, in fact. As they wound through the dark trees, they heard the voices and sounds behind them disappear.
Joshua stopped, hearing a familiar whinny and strained to look between the trees. In a small clearing ahead was Eagle and her chestnut standing side by side.
Joshua, smile unseen in the blackness, whispered, “Our horses are ahead, maybe forty feet.”
As they made the clearing, they both saw the horses clearly in the silvery light from the full moon. Behind them in the cracks of the emerald curtain, the sky was cloaked in bright red and yellow. They got up to the horses and dropped their rafts, and a figure stood up between the horses.
Buck gulped, as he looked upon Brenna in her nudity, and Joshua, too. He turned his head.
Brenna was embarrassed, as she said, “We had to swim across the pond and keep our clothing dry, Buck. Buck, why did you stay here? I told you to make it home to your family. They need you.”
Buck nodded, smiling, with his head turned, hearing them both toweling off and getting dressed.
&n
bsp; He said, “Yes’m, but my family dey know how to take care of demselves. Dey have had to hide befo’. Dey will do it if’n anybody comes ta mah house.”
“Are you sure?” she said.
“Yes’m,” he replied.
“But why did you risk your life and stay here?”
He looked now, as she and Joshua were dressed except for boots.
“Because ma’am, you risked yo’ life befo’ fo’ me,” Buck said, “I wanna make sho dat ya both got yo’ horses.”
“Thanks, Buck,” Strongheart said and extended his hand. “Thanks a lot.”
Buck had heard many stories about Strongheart all the way there in the Midwest and to have him shake hands with him and thank him was like getting a roll of bills. Then he looked down at her hand extended forward and in it was a tight roll of bills. She put it in his hand.
She said, “I will be insulted if you try to give it back. I grabbed some money and put it in my pocket before, when I saw those ruffians riding up. Just in case. I will have to go away now, Buck. However, I will come back someday and find you and your lovely wife. You have been a wonderful help to me over the years and a loyal friend. God bless you.”
He hung his head down trying to hide his own tears. She grabbed him in a big hug, and he turned and disappeared into the trees just like that. She dabbed at her eyes.
By this time, Joshua had the gear stored on his horse, which was already saddled and bridled. She took the reins to her horse and gasped. There were saddlebags on her horse, too. She reached inside, and saw that Buck had grabbed food, apparently sneaking to the fruit cellar, and put a store of it in there. He also grabbed some of her clothing off the line out back, and shoved it in there as well, and some matches. He had also rolled up her rain slicker and bedroll, including a bag and oilskin and had them rolled tightly behind her saddle cantle.
Again, she got tears, and said, “He risked his life to get me some food and clothing, Joshua. What a wonderful man.”
He said, “Sure is loyal. Salt of the earth. Brenna, we need to put some miles between us and them. Do you know where you want to go?”
She said, “Yes. Chicago.”
He did not wait for her to say any more, but said, “Then we will head west.”
He was headed east, but this woman had risked her life and lost everything to protect him. Sammy Davis had given up his life, too, and Strongheart became even more determined to make Robert Hartwell pay. The Pinkerton looked up at the sky, located the Big and Little Dipper, then the North Star, and headed west.
They rode for hours, and Joshua knew he had to give her and the horses a rest. Hartwell knew he was headed to Washington.
He found a nice quiet grove along a wide stream and made camp. He built a small fire, and they quickly curled up, using their saddles for pillows, and both slept until the sun awakened them.
Brenna was still tired and sore, but said, “I will be ready in a minute.”
Joshua said, “No, ma’am. The horses need rest, and we can eat a good breakfast, some coffee, and take it easier. Those fools think they burned us to a crisp, and will never look to the west. Hartwell knows I am heading to Washington.”
Shortly after, during breakfast, she said, “Why are you heading to Washington?”
He said, “To expose Robert Hartwell and his followers in the Indian Ring to Congress.”
She said, “Joshua, I want to ask you a serious question. You are definitely a man of sorts, and a man of the wilderness. Do you think a bald eagle could fly down and kill something in a place like New York City?”
“Definitely,” he said with a grin, not knowing what she was after.
“Do you think a bald eagle would enjoy being in or around a place like New York City?”
“No, not at all,” he answered, “Eagles treasure their freedom. Too many people, houses, and buildings in a place like that. I suppose an eagle would feel very confined.”
She said, “Since we talked about this case, I’ve done a great deal of thinking. According to what you told me, many people back east and out west know about the Indian Ring, and Secretary Belknap was caught and forced to retire.”
“Yes,” Joshua said.
She went on, “And many investors in Washington and similar places put money into the trading posts and other parts of the Indian Ring.”
“That’s true, too,” he replied, “So, what are you getting at?”
She went on, “You, to me, are like that eagle. Yes, you could go to Washington and kill Hartwell and many of his people, but you would be confining yourself to a part of the world that is not your territory. You can do it, but is it right? Why not leave the politics to the political buzzards in Washington who are expert at it, and you do what you’re expert at? Hartwell obviously wants you dead, so why not make him come to your territory to try to kill you, especially since you are up against so many other killers. By chasing him to Washington, it seems that you are playing into his hands instead of the other way around.”
Joshua took a sip of coffee and grinned.
“What is so funny, Mr. Strongheart?”
He chuckled, saying, “I am trying to figure out if you are simply wise, or actually brilliant, or I am just plain stupid? This has happened twice within a few weeks that two women, my cousin and you, have made me stop and think clearly.”
She chuckled, too. Then she set her coffee down and came over to him and put her arms around his neck. They kissed softly, then passionately.
“You know,” she said, “I have always had to be so strong, so guarded. I feel totally safe when I’m with you. When I cried on your chest, I had never done that before with any man. This is very forward, but I have fallen in love with you, Joshua.”
Strongheart kissed her again, then sat back and refreshed his coffee and hers.
He said, “Brenna, you are very, very beautiful and free-spirited. Like a female eagle of sorts yourself but you could function well in Washington, New York, or Chicago. However, you said it. I am a man of the West, and I am a man of two worlds. You would not be happy there.”
“I would be happy with you anywhere, Joshua,” she said her eyes welling up again, as she knew deep down he was correct.
Strongheart said, “Those who move west have a stirring in their soul. They hear about harsh blizzards, and many more grizzly bears and wolves than you would find where you live. They hear about Indian raids, stage holdups, hardships, many more rattlers than you find where you live, and gun fights. Yet, they are drawn there like by a magnet. Brenna, you have never had those feelings, have you?”
She said, “No, I haven’t. I just wish.”
He said, “I know.”
He grabbed the frying pan and knelt down by the stream. He reached down into the water and grabbed a handful of sand and half filled the pan with water. He dropped the sand in and started swirling it around. In short order, the pan was clean. Then, Brenna tossed him a bar of soap from her saddlebag, and he scrubbed it with that, and rinsed it. Strongheart stood and shook the pan and then put it away in his saddlebags.
They both knew the conversation was over.
He walked over to her, and held her upper arms, saying, “Are you going to be okay? I am so sorry you lost your home and all your belongings because of me.”
She put her hand on his and said, “Not because of you! It was because of Hartwell. I’ll be fine, really. I am very wealthy, Joshua, and everything I lost were simply things. I have relatives I will stay with in Chicago until I figure out what to do next. Maybe after you destroy Hartwell and his gang, I’ll return, but I am thinking maybe I should move to Washington myself and try to influence lawmakers on race relations.”
“The Pinkerton Agency headquarters are in Chicago,” Strongheart replied. “Maybe when I come there, we can have dinner.”
“I would love that.”
17
Within a few days, Strongheart rapped on the door of the palatial mansion on Wacker Drive. Brenna stood next to him, eyes glistening. One of the massive double oak doors opened, and a man with a face similar to Brenna’s looked at Joshua then at her. His face broadened into a beaming smile, and he swept her up in his arms.
“Sis!” he yelled. “Honey, Brenna is here! Come in, come in!”
Strongheart remained for dinner at the insistence of Brenna’s older brother, but then he left for the hospital.
An hour later, Lucky looked up from the newspaper he was reading to see Joshua Strongheart walk into his private hospital room. Lucky smiled and the two shook hands.
Joshua said, “Well, it looks like you pulled through. I’m glad. I would hate to have to break in a new boss.”
The two chuckled.
Lucky said, “The last reports we had, you were in Indiana or Ohio somewhere, were arrested for murder, and taken away by a posse. That was days ago.”
Strongheart smiled, “Yes, I ended up in Indiana, and I think southwestern Ohio, too. I’ll file a detailed report later, but I have been through a bit.”
“How did you end up back here in Chicago?”
Strongheart responded, “After you got shot, I was determined to chase Hartwell to Washington, D.C., and take care of him and his men there, if need be. Someone I was with, who I brought here to Chicago, convinced me I should go home and have Hartwell come after me, on my ground, on my terms.”
Lucky smiled, “Was she beautiful?”
Strongheart said, “Very.”
Lucky smiled, “I’m glad you have gotten back to living.”
