War Cry

by Charles G. West

  Once the wagon was on dry ground, he checked it over again, then told her to follow him to a better spot where they could hide it in the trees while he went back to look for her husband. It was in his better judgment to move out of that part of the valley as soon as possible, but he thought she might forever feel the guilt of leaving her husband behind. When he came to a suitable place, down a narrow ravine that allowed him to pull the wagon and team out of sight, he left them with the promise that he would be back.

  As he followed an obvious trail left by the wagon wheels, he told himself that it might not have been the smartest thing to leave the woman and her daughter alone. But he felt that it was going to weigh heavily on Sarah’s mind if there had not been some effort to recover Edward’s body. Dead was dead, as far as Will was concerned. It made little difference where the bones ended up, but he guessed that women held it to be important.

  He came upon the campsite soon enough, but there was no sign of a body. He found the spot where Edward had fallen and counted five empty shells on the ground next to a large stain where blood had seeped into the sand. His trained eye told him that there had been no struggle, indicating to him that Edward may have been dead by the time the Indians reached him. A trail in the sand told him that the body had been dragged into the water and up the bank on the other side. Following the trail for a few dozen yards in the tall grass, he discovered that it cut back on itself several times, giving him a clear picture of the grisly fun the warriors indulged in, dragging the body around in circles.

  He found the body halfway up a ridge where they had left it before going after the woman in the wagon. They must not have worried about catching up with her, he thought. It was hard to tell what Edward Lawton looked like before his death. The body was badly mutilated, his bowels disgorged, and his bloodied face sagging sadly as a result of his missing scalp. “It ain’t gonna do no good to let that poor woman see her husband like this,” he murmured to Spades.

  The only implement he carried on his saddle was a small hatchet to chop wood. He had no shovel to dig a grave, so he tried to chop a shallow pocket in the hillside with the hatchet and scoop out as much grass and dirt as he could. With considerable effort, he managed to lay a thin cover over the body. “Well, mister,” he proclaimed when he had finished, “it ain’t much of a grave. I expect it won’t be long before you’re invited to dinner with the buzzards, but that’s about as good as I can do for you without a shovel. I’ll try to see to it that your wife and young’un get to Fort Dodge all right.”

  Sarah walked out to meet him when she saw him returning, straining to see if Edward’s body was behind the saddle. Seeing her frown of disappointment, he was quick to explain. “I found him where he died, and from the looks of it, he was dead before the Injuns got there, so I’m sure he didn’t suffer no more.” He watched her face closely to gauge how she was taking the news and decided to embellish the story a bit to set her mind at ease. “It was so peaceful there, I thought you wouldn’t mind if I just buried him ’neath the trees where nothin’ can disturb his grave.”

  With her lips pressed tightly together to keep from showing her grief, she nodded, then said, “I thank you, Mr. . . .” She paused. “I don’t even know your name.”

  “Cason, ma’am, Will Cason,” he said.

  “Mr. Cason,” she repeated. “Maybe I could go see the grave.”

  He was afraid she’d want to do that. “Ah, I don’t think that’s a good idea, ma’am,” he hastened to reply. “You see, I saw an awful lot of Injun sign all around there, fresh sign. I don’t think we oughta risk yours and the little girl’s life by goin’ back there now—don’t think your husband woulda wanted it.”

  Disappointed, she thought for a moment before replying. “Of course you’re right. You’ve already risked your life by coming to our rescue. It wouldn’t be fair to ask you to risk it again.” She sighed sadly and looked toward her daughter. “I guess Edward would understand.”

  “I’m sure he would, ma’am. I expect he’d rather you get yourself somewhere safe.”

  With a deliberate show of determination, she affected a smile and offered her hand. “My name is Sarah Lawton,” she said. “My husband was Edward, and this is Emma. Emma and I want you to know how grateful we are that God sent you our way. Thank you.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, almost blushing in embarrassment. “You’re welcome,” he said, patently aware of the softness of her hand.

  She stepped back then and sighed. Looking around her as if taking inventory, she confessed, “I don’t know what to do now.”

  “The best thing for you and the little girl is to get back someplace where you’ll be safe. I’ll take you to Fort Dodge and you can decide what you’re gonna do there.”

  She was grateful, but thought it her place to politely protest. “I’m afraid we’ve caused you an awful lot of trouble already. I hate to put you out further.”

  “Oh, it ain’t no bother,” he replied. “I’m on my way to Fort Dodge, anyway. I’m carryin’ dispatches from Camp Supply.”

  She smiled. “In that case, I guess we won’t be too much extra trouble.”

  He scratched his chin whiskers thoughtfully. “No, ma’am, no trouble a’tall,” he said while thinking, Did she think I was gonna leave her and the young’un out in the middle of the prairie? “I expect we’d better get goin’ while there’s plenty of daylight left. Wouldn’t hurt to put a little more distance between us and those dead Cheyennes back there. There’ll most likely be some of their folks comin’ to look for ’em.” While he was genuinely pleased that he had come along when he did, he was somewhat perplexed over the prospect of escorting a grieving widow and her child all the way to Fort Dodge. The peace he had anticipated in being alone on the prairie was now certainly lost to him for the next few days. He supposed, however, there was a reason why he had happened along at that particular time. It was a shame, though, that he could not have arrived in time to possibly save the woman’s husband. Looking at it another way, however, he would have to say that Sarah Lawton and her child were first saved by the Cheyenne war party, because Ned Spikes would certainly have killed all three of them. A man of Spikes’ character would hardly have left witnesses. It was kind of funny how things worked out sometimes. If he hadn’t happened along when he did, she and her child would have been dead along with her husband.

  Chapter 3

  Bloody Hand bit his lower lip in anger as he looked down at the bodies of the three dead warriors. All three were young. One, Painted Arrow, was his sister’s son, and it grieved Bloody Hand to see such a fine warrior lying dead. He made a silent promise to avenge his death. Tall Bull said that it was only one man who killed all three. He had one of the guns that shoot many times, and he fired so rapidly that they thought there were more soldiers behind the ridge. “Repeating rifles,” Bloody Hand said, holding up his Spencer cavalry carbine. “The soldiers have them, and we must get more of them for our warriors.”

  They placed the bodies on the horses brought for the purpose, then rode back along the river toward their village. When they came to the place where the white people in the wagon had camped, one of the warriors pointed out what appeared to be a rather crude grave. They immediately set upon desecrating it. In only a matter of minutes, they uncovered the body of Edward Lawton. Already mutilated, it was left in the open for the scavengers to feed upon. “Let his spirit wander never to find his way,” Bloody Hand decreed. “Let us take our dead back to their families now. Then I will lead a war party to kill more soldiers and take their repeating rifles.”

  Slowed considerably, moving at the pace of the wagon, Will estimated it was going to take the best part of four, maybe five days to reach Fort Dodge. By himself, he could have made it in two days if he had pushed Spades, but he could see no choice in the matter. Although more direct, it was not the easiest route for a wagon. Sometimes he would tie Spades’ reins to the tailgate and drive the wagon over the rough spots to give Sarah some rest. Usually on
those occasions, Emma would ask to sit in the wagon seat beside him. Although he always granted her request, he would have been more comfortable without the child beside him. He had never been particularly fond of children, regarding them in much the same category as varmints, like rabbits and squirrels, and maybe possum. But the precocious little girl soon wormed her way into his heart before he was even aware that he was being captured. It was a new experience for Will, having spent very little time around children since leaving his mother’s house in Missouri. The only time he could compare was the time he had spent with the Choctaws before signing on with Ben Clarke. There were children in the village, but he had very limited contact with them, by his own choice. Straightforward and sharp as a tack, Emma gave him no choice in the matter. Asking questions about everything her mind happened to light upon, she forced him into long discussions that would end only by his declaration that it was time to let her mother drive again. Aware of his awkwardness with children, Sarah would usually come to his rescue and move Emma out of the seat so she could sit beside Will. Emma didn’t mind because on those occasions, Will would let her sit on Spades as the bay gelding plodded dutifully along behind the wagon.

  When her daughter seemed to have put her grief for her father behind her rather rapidly, Sarah supposed it was due to the child’s immediate attraction to the tall, broad-shouldered scout. She was not sure it was a healthy attachment for the child since it was temporary at best. But under the tragic circumstances, maybe there would be no lasting harm. As for herself, Sarah naturally found it difficult to let Edward’s death go, but she was determined to accept it and move on—she had to think about Emma. On the second day of travel with the unassuming army scout, she seemed to have come to terms with the fate that had befallen her. Even though slight, the change in her demeanor was evident in the way she talked to Emma and Will. While he had spent very little time with children, he had never been exposed to a woman of quality with the exception of his mother, and never as an adult. Sarah Lawton was a lady, and that fact alone made it uncomfortable for him to be close to her. Awkward and bumbling in her presence, his tongue became thick with embarrassment, making it difficult to speak intelligently. If she noticed his discomfort, she gave no sign of it.

  They struck Bluff Creek later that afternoon, and even though there was still plenty of daylight left, Will thought it best to stop there for the night. Sarah’s horses looked in need of rest and he could see that it was going to take two more long days before they reached Fort Dodge. While Sarah gathered wood for a fire, Will unhitched the horses with Emma’s help. The youngster insisted that her father had let her help him take care of the team, even though Will suggested that maybe she should help her mother. “You watch yourself around those horses,” he cautioned. “You ain’t much bigger’n a whisker, and they might step on you.” The comment served to provide him with a pet name for the little girl, and Whiskers became her nickname.

  Sarah smiled when Emma persisted in following Will, no longer concerned about the child’s fascination for him. With rope he found on the wagon, he fashioned hobbles for Sarah’s horses as Emma watched. “They won’t go far with them hobbles on,” he remarked when Emma said that her father had always tied them to the wagon. “Here, I’ll show you how to do it.” Then he demonstrated how to tie the knots to form the loops so they wouldn’t hurt the horse. She tried a couple of times before she got it right. “You can hobble a horse any old way, I reckon, but that’s the way I do it,” he said. “That way you can get ’em off if you’re in a hurry by just pullin’ this end through.” She giggled in delight at having learned something new.

  “Why don’t you hobble Spades?” she asked when he had taken the saddle off his horse.

  Will chuckled and answered, “He won’t go far away from me. In fact, you couldn’t run him off.” The little girl found this interesting since her father’s horses never seemed to want to come when called. “I expect most horses are like that,” Will said, “but Spades don’t know he’s a horse.”

  Sarah paused in her preparation of the meal of pan bread, beans, and salt pork to look at her daughter chattering away at the elbow of the tall, rangy scout. A moment of sadness descended upon her as she thought that it should have been Edward patiently tolerating her daughter’s questions. Just as quickly, she brought herself back from entering that shroud of melancholy that had devastated her during the two prior days. Telling herself that it was fortunate that Emma had found a distraction so soon after her father’s death, she returned her attention to her supper. She could not, however, avoid a slight shudder when she was again reminded of what hers and Emma’s fate might have been without the sudden appearance of Will Cason. He was a decent man, she decided, and one of conflicting personalities—a cool-hearted assassin as he executed those Cheyenne warriors, but a soft-spoken teddy bear in the presence of a child. He was not unattractive in a wild, untamed way, she thought, and then immediately scolded herself for noticing one way or the other. She wondered if he had a wife and children of his own somewhere, then at once told herself that a man like him had no room in his life for marriage. Those thoughts prompted others that had weighed heavily on her mind since Edward’s death. Alone now to provide for Emma, what would she do? How would she survive on her own in a land so foreign to civilization as she had known it? She turned her head to look again at Will as he paused to stroke Spades’ face, as much at home in the middle of this wild land as the deer and the antelope. She decided then that it was better for her not to entertain thoughts such as these.

  The stone buildings of Fort Dodge rose on the horizon on the evening of the fourth day of their journey. Sitting on the north bank of the Arkansas River, the fort had been relocated from the original site and the old sod structures replaced by the present-day stone buildings the year before. Situated where the dry route and the wet route on the Santa Fe Trail came together, the fort was established to protect wagon trains heading to New Mexico. As was often the case this time of year, there was a wagon train encamped outside the fort, possibly one that had taken the dry route from Fort Larned. Folks that took that route usually chose to lay over in Fort Dodge to recover from the long trek with limited access to fresh water. Will suggested to Sarah that she should make camp near the wagons while he delivered his dispatches to the colonel. Aware of a look of concern on her face, he assured her that he would be back to make sure they were all right. “I ain’t gonna leave you and Whiskers till I’m sure you know what you’re gonna do.”

  Hoping he had not detected her worried look, she nodded and said that she and Emma would be all right. She had to admit to herself that she had experienced a moment of quiet panic over the possibility of being completely on her own for the first time. Although grieving over the loss of her husband of seven years, she admitted to herself that the past two days with Will Cason were the only days she had felt safe since leaving Council Grove. She did not wish to belittle her late husband’s courage or ability. In fact, she would never forget his gallant effort to save her and Emma as he lay dying. But the rough- hewn army scout exuded a sense of quiet control that made her feel there was no situation for which he had no answer. She hoped that feeling cast no disrespect for Edward, for she honestly loved him every day of their marriage. She told herself that it was perfectly natural that she developed a strong sense of dependency on the strapping young man now leading the big bay horse around the end of her wagon—with her daughter sitting grandly in the saddle. While beaming at the pair of them brightly, she feared what might lie ahead when Will was gone. Where would she go—a woman alone with a small child? It was easy to say it had been a mistake to think she and Edward could make a new life in Santa Fe. Edward’s death was blunt testimony to that fact. She was afraid now, afraid for herself and her child. She gazed intently at the broad back of her rough-hewn guardian angel as he rode away from the wagon.

  On his way to the post headquarters, he thought about the past few days with Sarah and Emma. Ben Clarke was probably e
xpecting him back at Camp Supply tonight or in the morning. “He’ll probably think my topknot is flyin’ on some Cheyenne warrior’s lance,” he remarked to Spades. “He oughta know better’n that.” He certainly planned to return, but he wasn’t in any particular hurry. Will had a feeling that Ben wanted him to ride with the Seventh. But Will didn’t care much for Colonel George A. Custer’s style of waging war, especially since that campaign on Black Kettle’s village on the Washita. Custer had called it a battle. Most other folks called it a massacre. Will was glad he wasn’t along on that one. He had ridden alone to Black Kettle’s village a few weeks before that attack. I never saw a more peaceful camp of Indians, he thought. There wasn’t a handful of young men, and they were trying to surrender to the army even then. He had no qualms about fighting the Cheyenne warriors who were intent upon raiding farms and towns and attacking stagecoaches. “But, damn,” he exclaimed, “I can’t see any satisfaction in killin’ peaceful Injuns, especially women and children.”

  He turned his dispatches over to the duty sergeant. Will had seen the sergeant on prior trips to Fort Dodge, but he didn’t know his name, only that he was one of a few ex-Confederate soldiers who had volunteered to fight Indians in the U.S. Army rather than loll around in a Union prison back east—Galvanized Yankees, they were called. “There may be some dispatches to go back to Camp Supply with you,” the sergeant said, “if you can wait around till tomorrow when the captain and first sergeant are here.”

  “I’ll be hangin’ around for a spell, anyway,” Will replied. He was genuinely reluctant to leave Sarah and Emma until he was certain they would be all right.

  “You’ve still got time to get somethin’ to eat if you get on over to the enlisted men’s mess,” the sergeant said. “You can stable your horse and throw your gear in the cavalry barracks. There’s extra cots there.”