They took their leave and, once outside and walking down the street, Matthew said, “I want you to go back home now, Hannah.”
“But, sir!” she protested.
“No argument,” Matthew responded. “I need you to go and take care of my son while I try to bring your kinfolk back to the ranch. Will you do that for me?”
The man’s voice was so reasonable, Hannah bit her lip in frustration. She thought wryly, Chance told me his father is a force to be reckoned with and now I see what he means.
Knowing she was backed into a corner, she bowed her head and murmured, “Yes, sir. Of course I will.”
Matthew smiled. “That’s a good girl.” Glancing at his pocket-watch, he added, “The next train leaves in an hour. While we wait, why don’t we stop in at that jeweler’s shop?”
Hannah knew what Matthew wanted. Yesterday, Chance had awoken from his nap with one thing on his mind… SILVER! He was convinced that the monsters had reacted with fear when they spied his new belt buckle. He also thought that if they were to go anywhere near the creature’s locale, they should always bring something silver along for protection.
Matthew stuck his right arm out a little in invitation and Hannah put her hand on his sleeve. Stepping up on the boardwalk, they walked two blocks and entered a small jewelry shop. There was an expensive silver tea set in the window but Matthew moved toward the back of the store where a lone candlestick sat coated in dust.
An old man sat on a stool behind the counter and smiled as Matthew picked up the item. “A good price on that since its mate was lost,” he said.
Matthew asked, “This is silver, right?”
The shopkeeper held out a hand, took the piece, and then dipped a soft rag into a can of polish; he blew off the dust and cobwebs and started rubbing it. Almost immediately, the dirt and tarnish fell away and the customers watched as silver metal gleamed through the grime.
“Yes, sir. This is sterling silver and, from what I can tell, was cast in Germany sometime in the early 1700s. A fine piece.”
“I’ll take it,” Matthew said.
“I’ll not be giving it away, sir,” the old man said with a surprised frown.
“No matter, but I want it to sparkle like a diamond before I take it.”
The jeweler shrugged. “I’ll have it looking like new in about twenty minutes. Is that okay with you?”
Matthew nodded and replied, “That will be perfect. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“Would you like me to wrap it as a gift? It’s only an extra ten cents.”
Matthew shook his head. “No, just wrap it in newspaper.”
Astonished, the shopkeeper set to cleaning the silver candlestick with gusto as Matthew escorted his daughter-in-law back to the train station and Hannah was feeling more rebellious by the minute.
“Father,” she said. “I heard you tell Chance that you would not go alone to meet with the monsters.”
Matthew shook his head. “I have no intention of meeting up with them, Hannah. That candlestick is just a precaution. Remember, whether they are monsters or just bad men, they don’t seem to come out during the daylight. I should be as safe as can be.”
“Well, what am I supposed to tell Chance? You know he’ll be furious!”
“You tell my son that I couldn’t live with the idea that your family was at risk and I did nothing to get them out of harm’s way,” he said softly.
Wanting more than anything to see her family show up safe and sound at the Imes’ ranch, she gave up trying to talk her father-in-law out of going.
The train was puffing and wheezing into the station as they approached. Turning to Matthew, Hannah pleaded, “Sir, do you promise to back me up with Chance? He really is going to be upset that you went on ahead without him.”
Matthew nodded. “With any luck, I’ll snatch up your family, have them back here in Wallace by the 7:00 o’ clock train, and be home with them at the ranch by tomorrow morning. You tell Chance that you were just following my orders.”
“Yes, sir,” Hannah said.
A few minutes later, she stood on the deck of the train as it pulled away and marveled at how small Chance’s father looked from this vantage point… and how vulnerable.
Chapter Fourteen
Too Close for Comfort
Matthew started to walk toward the town stable to rent a horse for the day but paused as he spied a small wooden building with a sign reading “U.S. Army” tacked above the door. Glancing down at his watch, he saw it was 11:30; plenty of time to talk to the commanding officer about his missing soldiers before he rode the fifteen miles to Lindsay’s home.
He stepped inside and a young second lieutenant looked up from a mess of paperwork on his desk. “Can I help you?” he asked.
Matthew removed his hat and said, “My name is Matthew Wilcox, with the Wilcox and Son Detective Agency. I was hoping to speak with your commanding officer.”
The lieutenant stood up and said, “Wait just one minute, please.” He walked into another room and Matthew could hear the murmur of voices. Then an older man appeared in the doorway. Matthew noted the captain’s bars on his collar and couldn’t help but notice dark circles under the man’s eyes as though the he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in weeks.
“I am Captain Lowry. What can I do for you, sir?” he asked.
Matthew answered, “I was hoping you could give me some information about your missing soldiers.”
Lowry frowned. “I am sorry but that is Army business… and none of yours.”
Matthew wasn’t surprised at the man’s attitude—the Army was notorious for keeping its own council.
Nodding, he replied, “Sir, your soldiers are not the only citizens who have disappeared in the last few weeks. A total of six people that I know of have gone missing lately and, just a few days ago, my own son was attacked by something on the east valley road.”
He paused, studying the newly-etched lines on the man’s face, adding, “I will do my best to protect your soldiers’ reputations; I have heard they were all fine young men. I just want to put a stop to this if I can.”
Lowry’s face softened. Gesturing for Matthew to step inside his office, he went to his desk and sat down with a sigh. As his visitor took a seat, he pulled a bottle of whiskey from a drawer and poured himself a drink.
“Care for a pull?” he asked.
Matthew declined and the captain put the bottle away. Leaning back in his chair, he said, “All three of those young men were outstanding soldiers. There have been rumors circulating that they deserted their post but I refuse to believe it.” He drained his glass. “Unfortunately, my feelings on the matter have little bearing on the facts. Those boys are gone and I suspect foul play.”
Matthew asked, “Were you aware that three other men-regular citizens-have gone missing as well?”
Lowry nodded. “Yes, I have heard. That’s why new men are stationed at the outpost. I’m afraid, though, and worried that I’ve just sent another three lads to their death. I believe that Indians are involved. There has been a lot of unrest on the reservation lately and more than one buck has been spotted in full battle garb.”
“Indians,” Matthew whispered. The thought had never crossed his mind until now.
Could that be the explanation for his son’s strange visions? Indians—especially those on the “warpath”—were known to use lurid paint on their bodies and faces to strike fear into the hearts of their enemies. Maybe the “monsters” Chance had thought he’d seen were really just disgruntled Indians. Still, most of the Indians who had “jumped” reservation lines were few and far between, and those that did usually didn’t linger but headed as quickly as possible into Montana or north into Canada.
“Captain,” Matthew ventured, “I am heading that way as soon we are finished talking. I wondered if I might have permission to call on your soldiers and I thought I might need a letter of introduction if you agree.”
Lowry’s eyes sharpened. “Mr. Wilcox, I am in no position to gi
ve you orders. But surely, knowing what has been happening in that area, taking a jaunt through those woods is taking an unnecessary risk.”
“Yes sir, I do know. But members of my family live out that way about fourteen miles due east. I intend to fetch them and bring them back home to my ranch in Granville.”
“Aw…” the captain murmured. “Well, in that case, I’ll do you one better than an introduction. He pulled an official-looking paper with a U.S. Army letterhead toward him and started writing. A few moments later, he sealed the letter and handed it over to Matthew.
“This is an order for Private First Class Jerome Trevance to accompany you to your relative’s house. It wouldn’t hurt for you to have another good gun-hand along for protection. The young man was once a highly decorated Buffalo soldier.”
Touched, Matthew said, “Thank you, Captain. This is very kind of you.” Standing up, he looked at his watch and added, “I really must be going, especially if I am going to stop at the outpost for extra security.”
Lowry stood as well. “If you will, sir, please stop by on your way back if there have been any further developments. My men are scheduled to report in once a week but my nerves are on edge. The last bunch disappeared without a trace and I was none the wiser until almost five days had passed.”
Matthew shook the man’s hand and promised to visit whether there was news or not. Then he asked for directions, which were simple enough: turn right at Mile Marker 2 East and ride a mile and a half. Apparently, he couldn’t miss it. He thanked Captain Lowry again and took his leave.
It was only a matter of minutes to walk to the town stable and rent a horse so by 12:45 they were trotting briskly toward Jacob Lindsay’s house. He came upon Mile Marker 2 and pulled his horse’s reins to the right, making his way down a rough road toward the Army outpost.
He saw a lookout tower rising about twenty feet into the air and then saw three young Negro soldiers standing in front of a rough-hewn cabin; all of them had their Army-issue rifles trained on him.
Matthew pulled his horse to a stop and called out, “Hello! My name is Matthew Wilcox! I come in friendship and with orders from Captain Lowry in Wallace!”
He held the official letter in the air, hoping he wasn’t about to get his head shot off by the nervous young soldiers. He saw one of them turn to his comrades and, a moment later, their rifles rested at port-arms; the man started walking in Matthew’s direction with his rifle held in readiness across his midsection.
Once the soldier got to within speaking distance, Matthew asked, “May I dismount, sir?”
He got a curt nod in reply and slowly climbed down from his horse’s back. A moment later, the private met him on the ground. “May I see the letter, suh?”
Matthew handed the orders over and watched as the soldier read the words, slowly and out loud. Matthew couldn’t help but feel impressed. Although public schools were making inroads, many folks still did not know how to read or write. He had heard that most of the so-called Buffalo soldiers were either runaway or displaced slaves so it spoke volumes about this young man’s character that he knew his letters.
Finally, the private looked up and smiled. “Sorry, suh, but things have been tense around here as I think you know. My name is Jerome… Private Jerome Trevance, at your service.”
Matthew shook the man’s hand. “I hope I am not inconveniencing you too much.”
The soldier shook his head. “No sir, not at all. It will be good to get out of here, at least for a little while. I don’t believe in haints but the other two with me do and they got me halfway convinced we’re bedeviled.”
“Has something happened to make them feel that way?” Matthew looked about at the neat Army encampment and felt an unwelcome chill.
“Listen. Follow me on over to the stable so I can tell my men what is going on and saddle up my horse.”
Matthew obliged and shook the other soldiers’ hands, both of whom looked uneasy at being left alone even if it was for only a couple of hours. Then he followed Trevance into a small corral and listened as he put a worn saddle on his horse’s back.
“We have only been here a few days but we needed to do a lot of cleaning once we arrived. It was a mess… lots of blood and gore, and this from men we knew and liked.”
The private replaced his horse’s halter with a bridle and patted the animal as it tongued at the unwanted metal in its mouth. “Anyway, my people tend to be a superstitious bunch but, in this case, who can blame them?”
“Anyway, we heard some pretty scary sounds last night and they seemed to be nearby. We took turns on watch but it was nerve-shaking, to say the least…”
Matthew nodded, “You men are not the only ones who have heard those howls. My son heard them, too, and was apparently attacked by the perpetrators. I don’t know yet who or what is exactly responsible but I don’t want to take any chances with my daughter-in-law’s family members living so close.”
“Yes, sir. I’m ready to go now, if you are.” Trevance said.
Matthew mounted his horse and the two men set off down the road, leaving two very nervous soldiers behind. It was now 2:30 in the afternoon although it seemed later; storm clouds were moving in, covering the sun with their voluminous dark shrouds.
Temperatures were dropping as well and a light rain pattered on the road, bushes, and deciduous trees alongside the road. Even the birds and small woodland animals seemed to sense an upcoming tempest and had gone silent as if afraid of being heard.
Private Trevance had gone quiet, too, and Matthew saw that his hand was resting lightly on the butt of his rifle. The gun-sheath sat next to the man’s right hip so perhaps, for the Private, it was a natural posture but Matthew didn’t think so. Having learned early in life to listen with his heart as well as his ears, he unsnapped his pistol holster and gazed into the sudden fog that seemed to be falling around them like smoke from a campfire.
Suddenly, two red beams of light penetrated the fog and seemed to etch the traveler’s bodies with firelight. Both of the men’s horses shied and it took all their strength to rein their mounts in so they didn’t bolt.
Red eyes! Matthew thought in shock. Those were two red, fiery eyes looking down at us from the lowering clouds!
Reacting with both disbelief and a strong sense of self-preservation, Matthew fumbled in his saddlebags and found the parcel he had purchased from the jeweler in Wallace. Numb fingers fumbled at the wrapping and he finally lifted the shiny silver candlestick into the air over his head.
The horse he rode was bucking and rearing, and the soldier’s well-trained pony looked as if it was ready to charge as the men heard a loud unholy screech of rage to their left. They stared into the banks of fog that swirled around them in thick, sinuous waves and saw red lights flashing on and off in the near distance followed by the sound of wolves on the attack. Both sights and sounds were alarming in themselves; the red-eyed demons of their imaginations were horrible to contemplate but actual wolves hunting in a pack were another terrible threat to unwary travelers.
They sat and listened for a few minutes as the wolves howled, snapped and growled, punctuated occasionally by the strange and unearthly sounds of the red-eyed creatures they had yet to identify. It was clear to both men the beasts were the wolf pack’s prey and, for that, they thanked their lucky stars.
While their luck held, they spurred their mounts into a quick but cautious trot. A minute or two passed as they made their way through the thick fog; then, as quickly as it came, the storm passed leaving the road ahead of them damp but clear.
Both men’s hearts were pounding hard with dread. They weren’t sure what had just happened but both of them felt as though they had dodged a very large and very brutal bullet. Suddenly, Matthew’s horse jumped sideways in panic.
A lone wolf was picking its way down the left-hand side of the road toward them, its tongue lolling out of its mouth. The animal seemed to be looking up at Matthew with a wide grin and his heart skipped a beat.
&nbs
p; When he was just a boy, Matthew had found and befriended a wolf he called Bandit. Long gone and buried now, it still lived—loyal and steadfast—in Matthew’s heart and always would.
This wolf—probably a youngster who had not yet been invited to take its place in a pack—looked exactly like his Bandit. Its large slanted gold eyes and black mask were so similar Matthew almost called out to it in an awestruck welcome. Yet, as he stared, the wolf turned and disappeared into the trees.
Chapter Fifteen
Silver!
As soon as the wolf disappeared, Matthew said, “Let’s move! Quick!”
The two men spurred their horses and galloped down the road towards the Lindsay’s home. Matthew wanted to put as much distance as possible from whatever they had just escaped and figured there was only a mile or two to go before they reached the road leading to the house.
Once or twice, they pulled the horses into a trot so they wouldn’t get foot-sore or winded but the animals seemed as interested in escaping as their riders. Yet soon after, they reached the turnoff and approached the cabin which seemed to be abandoned.
Heart sinking in dismay, Matthew dismounted and walked up onto the porch. The front door was bolted shut which gave him some hope as this meant the Lindsay’s must’ve had the presence of mind to consider security before fleeing.
The private was right behind him. “Looks like they already left, suh,” he murmured.
Matthew nodded. He had been looking for signs of a struggle—or blood—but the place was clean. Problem was, though, the wagon, cows, and horses were all outside in their pens. And there was no way the family could have left their homestead without the wagon.
Turning toward the soldier, Matthew said, “I think I know where they are.”
The private raised his eyebrows. “Okay, that’s good. Where?”
“Down at the new shaft, about a mile from here by the river,” Matthew replied.
Looking around uneasily, the man cleared his throat. “We haven’t had the chance to talk about what happened back there but do you know?”
Heart of Ice (Deadman Series Book 6) Page 8
