by J. R. WRIGHT
“Will we go back for them?”
“I will if they don’t come along before dark,” Luke said and laid back in the boat for a nap.
Sarah tossed a few ears of corn up on the riverside trail, then laid back herself.
It was the crunching of the corn as the horses ate it that awoke them some hours later. Luke was quick to grab an oar and push the mackinaw out, once he was alert to the situation.
“Somebody may be trailing them,” he said. “We had best get a move on.”
Sarah hastily took an oar and did likewise. Soon they were in the main stream and picking up speed, but not fast enough.
“Two riders coming,” Sarah reported minutes later. “They’re on ponies, look to be Indian.”
“Could be scouts for American Fur.” Luke saw them far in the distance. “They won’t catch us now,” he said with confidence as the boat took on new speed.
The horses were at full gallop on shore, and it wasn’t long before the pursuers disappeared in the distance.
“Yippee…!” Sarah shouted and put the gun she had in her hands aside. It never ceased to amaze her how Luke seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to approaching danger.
“You got us out of there just in time.”
“I saw it in the horses,” he said. “They were fidgety, like they were being chased. If the corn hadn’t been there, they would not have stopped. Thank you for that, Sarah.” He gave her a wink and a smile.
She smiled back, grateful for the recognition, and the smile. She removed the brown hat Luke had purchased for her at Fort Union and swept the long honey colored hair back over her ears. He had been distant since the sex they shared in the cabin. Now it appeared as though he was coming around. She hoped so. It was lonely in her bedroll at night, with no one to hold her.
Three days later they came to the mouth of the Big Sioux River. The same vortex was there as before, where the two rivers merged, and Luke steered wide around it. He saw the spot where the steamboat had been when the young bucks boarded her on the trip up.
He looked around for Indians, but saw none and pulled the boat to shore. This would be the first big river crossing for the horses, if in fact they chose to do it at all. Right now they were on the opposite shore of the Big Sioux, hesitant to take the plunge.
That is, until some young, near naked Indians came charging from the nearby tall grass. One of them managed to get his arms around the stallion’s neck. Alarmed by this, the stallion lunged into the river, and there the Indian boy managed to get on his back.
Sarah picked up a rifle and aimed, but no way could she shoot with the boy lying so low on the stallion’s back, hanging on for dear life.
“Watch those in the grass,” Luke said. “They have bows and arrows.”
With that, Sarah focused on the dozen or so in the grass. Some did have bows loaded with arrows, but none seemed poised to launch. They were too caught up with what the boy on the stallion was doing. Such a great horse they had never seen before.
Just then another young buck made an attempt to capture the filly, and to avoid this she, too, jumped into the river. Meanwhile the stallion, to avoid the vortex that swirled about him, headed back for shore. Then as the two horses came together, the filly took it upon herself to reach out and bite the boy on the stallion on the arm. This caused him to release his hold around the horse’s neck and produce the most blood curdling scream before going into the water.
Now that it seemed there was little chance they would possess the horses, since they both swam for the opposite shore, the Indians decided to fill their hides with arrows instead. The first volley of arrows struck nothing but water, since the horses were mostly submerged, except for their ears, eyes, and nostrils.
To discourage any more of this, Luke fired the big bore well over the heads of the Indians in the grass. The huge bang and the whistle of the buck shot sent them all running for the timber nearby.
Meanwhile, the horses made it to shore and wasted no time putting distance between them and the Big Sioux. A few miles down river Luke steered the boat under some cottonwood trees near shore to feed the horses.
Aroused by all the excitement, and the near nakedness of the young Indians, Sarah glanced back upriver and fanaticized about being among them. That is, until Breanne came to mind and soured the thought. Her focus then went to Luke as he stood in the boat, tossing ears of corn to shore.
“This is a nice shady spot,” she said, removing the hat and fingering her long hair. “Can we stay for a while?”
Luke looked at her so relaxed on the bags of corn. “Best keep moving. Never know when Indians will follow.”
“They won’t,” Sarah said confidently and shifted for a more comfortable spot on the corn while straightening the buckskins she wore.
Of course Luke knew they wouldn’t, as well. No way would these young ones want anything more to do with their guns. He also knew what Sarah wanted and took a long look around, considering what he would say next.
“In my eyes, I’m a married man, Sarah. And you, even though you are a fine picture of a woman – well, I see you as Frank Martin’s wife. What I’m trying to say is, the way things are, it just isn’t right we ought to be carrying on the way we did back at the cabin.”
“I see,” she said softly, not letting her eyes leave him. “But I’m not dead, Luke. And neither are you. I mean, we don’t have to commit to one another just to have a little fun occasionally, do we?” She got to her feet and went to him at the back of the boat.
He thought about it for a bit, and guessed not, seeing as he frequented the whores at the Blue Bear before Breanne came along, and there was no lasting affection there.
He looked around again, searching for wisdom. Finally he said, “Okay then, if you’ll promise me you won’t get all tore up when I leave.”
Leave! The word hit her like a ton of bricks. Leave to where? Out west, like he’d been talking? She doubted that would happen, and if he did, surely he would want to take her along, especially after a few weeks of working her magic on him. Frank, older and more experienced, had taught her well in how to pleasure a man, in bed and out of it.
“Okay, I promise,” she said gleefully and began dancing about in the boat, kicking off boots and wiggling out of buckskins.
To set this right, Luke decided to envision Sarah as just another squaw tagging along behind, as perhaps Pierre would have. That is, until she stepped in a badger hole and needed to be left behind. Perhaps she was more than that, but that’s how he needed to see it for now, with Breanne still so painfully fresh on his mind.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
It was late evening a week later when they passed by the wood station. That was where Luke and Breanne were married, and Luke couldn’t help but look as the memory of it passed before his eyes. He would have liked to stop and visit for a spell, but considered that a bad idea, since he wanted his return downriver kept secret. There were a few woodmen milling about, but none paid much attention to their passing except for a casual wave from one of them near shore.
When they reached the outskirts of Independence seven days later, Luke pulled to shore to make camp and gather in the horses. This would be his and Sarah’s last night together, and he told her so.
“What will you do then?” she asked, tears forming.
“First off, I’m going to see that you’re delivered to that aunt of yours. Then I’ve been giving some thought to taking that filly to a friend’s farm north of St. Louis. No doubt she’s bred. I won’t have any use for a mare with foal where I’m going.”
“And where might that be?”
“Somewhere far away from Missouri. I’m a wanted man, Sarah. I must leave. I just don’t yet know where to. Maybe west?”
Sarah would not ask to be taken along. She had promised she wouldn’t make a fuss. If the truth were to be known, she didn’t want to go. She had had quite enough of frontier life for one lifetime. It would be good to live among civilized people again, dressing
and conducting herself like a proper woman. Let him run off somewhere and hide for a time – maybe years. That was fine with her. But when he returned for her, and she knew he would, ready to settle somewhere civilized, she would be waiting. Until then she would live with her spinster aunt schoolteacher, get work, and bide her time. In her mind, there was no doubt that she had planted enough sweet carnal memories for him to desire her with every step he took until the last one arrived back at her door.
After a night of farewell sex, the two of them took the boat on up to the levee. There they managed to sell the boat and most of its contents to ready buyers for a fair price. What remained that Luke wanted to keep was loaded onto the filly. Then the two of them, riding double on the stallion, went off in search of Sarah’s aunt. They found her small frame house, with a bountiful garden in back, near the school where she taught during the fall and winter months.
Sarah spotted her in the garden, dismounted, and went to her quickly. Ina had been like an older sister to her growing up. And they remained very close until the desire for adventure struck Ina, and she took a teaching job here in Independence one year before Sarah married Frank. In fact, Frank had let on she would be close to Ina when she agreed to marry him and move west. However, that was only one of many lies Frank Martin told her to persuade her to marry him. But then, she was only sixteen and had a bit of adventure in her heart as well. Realizing this, Frank had taken full advantage.
Luke tied the horse and followed her over. They were joyfully hugging when he arrived. Ina was a brunette, unlike Sarah, and perhaps ten years older. Also slim and tall, and not bad-looking, either.
“Oh, Ina, this is Luke McKinney.”
“Mister McKinney,” Ina said, extending a hand with a puzzled look. “Where is Frank? Your mother wrote me you had married a Frank Martin.”
“Frank is dead, Ina. It’s a long story, I’ll tell you later. But Luke is my savior. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him.”
“Well, in that case, I guess you deserve a hug too.” Ina moved in and did just that. “Thank you, sir, for bringing my darling Sarah back to me. I have missed her so much over the years. I didn’t even have a way to write her. It has been so frustrating! But now she is here. I just don’t believe it. Pinch me, Sarah. I must know I’m not dreaming.”
Sarah laughed. “It is not a dream, dear Aunty, I assure you.”
“Where are your things? You are staying?” Ina said, looking for a wagon or something other than that pack horse with very little on it.
Sarah raised her arms. “This is it. This is all I got away with. We were burnt out by Indians, Ina.”
“Oh my...!” Ina covered her mouth.
Now that Sarah was in good hands, Luke didn’t feel so bad about leaving. Before doing so, however, he presented her with the proceeds from the sale of the boat and other things that morning.
“But that is over nine hundred dollars!” Sarah was in shock. “I can’t take that!”
“Consider it your share of the beaver pelts.” Luke forced the money pouch on her. “You worked hard at helping Pierre with the skinning and stretching.”
She held the heavy pouch, looking at it for a considerable time before speaking again. “I’ll miss you,” she finally said.
He lifted her chin and planted a kiss on her pouting lips. He then abruptly went to the stallion, mounted, and proceeded to ride away.
“You come back to me someday, Luke McKinney!” she shouted after him.
“Count on it, Sarah Martin!” he returned.
That was all she needed for now, and she turned happily back to her smiling aunt, who waited and watched from where she was between rows of beans and peas in the garden.
“I need to go buy some dresses,” Sarah said as she approached her.
“Nonsense,” Ina said, “we’ll buy some fabrics from the general store and I’ll show you how to make beautiful dresses on your own. In the meantime, you’ll wear mine. Now let’s go get you scrubbed up; you’re filthy.”
“I feel filthy!” They both laughed as they marched off arm in arm toward the little white house.
CHAPTER FORTY
Luke rode directly back to the levee in order to catch the ferry across the Missouri. He would leave for the Nelson farm without delay. He figured the trip would take half the time on horseback as it had with the wagon. He recalled that that had taken eight days. After spending a few days with the Nelsons, he planned to be back here for supplies and a pack mule and heading west inside two weeks. That would get him out of here in late September, leaving plenty of time to get as far as the mountains of the west before the worst of winter. Pierre talked of them often, and Luke very much looked forward to experiencing the sight for himself. ‘Magnifique,’ was one of the words Pierre used to describe them.
Just in case Jeb Dunlap or anyone else was keeping watch on the Nelson farm, Luke rode wide of it when he arrived. He saw someone in the hay field raking hay, and another stacking it, but these two people were much too young to be Tom and Effie.
Seeing no one else about, he rode on in. The man on the haystack was quick to pull an old flintlock rifle from somewhere at his feet when Luke approached.
“Hold on there!” Luke said, tossing up his hands.
“What do you want?” the young man said, waving the rifle carelessly in his direction.
“I came to see the Nelsons. I’m a friend.”
“What’s your name, friend?”
“Hill. Tom Hill.”
“Well, Mister Hill, the Nelsons are dead, and have been for near a half year now. You’d think a friend would know that. Now who are you really?”
Luke was shocked, and it clearly showed on his face. “What happened to them?”
“When we bought the place at auction down in St. Louis, we were told they had been shot to death by some desperado named McKinney. You wouldn’t be him, would you? The captain of police over there said he may return here, and we should keep an eye out.”
“Dunlap!” Luke said aloud, out of anger.
“Yeah, that’s him – Jeb Dunlap.”
Without another word Luke steered the red stallion toward St. Louis and kicked him to a gallop. The filly, which trailed loose behind, soon got the message and hurried to catch up.
Near sundown, Luke arrived at a grove of elms near the Missouri river, north of town. It was here he and Pierre often came to fish over the years. He made camp and waited for nightfall.
The longer he waited, the more sorrowful and angry he became. There was no doubt in his mind it had been Dunlap who killed the Nelsons, just as he and his deputies had killed his friend Jake Brumond. Dunlap’s reign of terror had gone on way too long. It was high time somebody put an end to it. If he had ridden back to St. Louis when Pierre told him at the Nelson farm what had happened to Jake and settled the score then, the Nelsons would be alive today.
When full darkness came, Luke tied the filly to a tree and rode the stallion slowly into town. Dunlap was a creature of habit. And Luke knew what those habits were, especially after dark. It was then that Dunlap, and at least two of his goons, began making their rounds to most every saloon on this side of town. If anything bad were to happen, it more than likely would happen on the rough side.
First he rode down Water Street, the full length, and saw nothing of interest, except for the Blue Boar, or what was left of it: a hollow shell, dark and deserted. Circling west, he now started up Second Street. Seeing nothing of Dunlap again, he rode into the alley halfway between Nellie’s and Jake’s Livery. Piano music poured out of the saloon across the street, but this early on, there was not a lot of traffic on the street. Soon some whores came out of Nellie’s, made their way to the saloon, and entered. Luke recognized two of the three, gals that once worked for Hans.
Then it happened. Dunlap and two of his deputies rode rapidly up to the saloon, got down from their horses, and went inside. They were laughing about something when they entered. Luke took offense at this, figuring a man as ev
il as Dunlap had no right to happiness of any sort.
‘Laugh it up, bastards! It may be your last!’ Luke nudged the stallion forward, fingering the big bore in his lap. Just as he was out of the alley, two more of Jeb’s deputies galloped up to the saloon. This new development caused Luke to back the horse into the darkness again. Now that there were five of them, he needed to rethink his strategy.
He had two fifty caliber Hawkins in the scabbards, one on each side of the horse, in addition to the big bore. But that wouldn’t be enough fire power for five, unless he could group them all together and initially use the big bore loaded with buckshot. Surely that would bring down a few of them, leaving the remaining two rifles for cleanup. It was a tall order, he knew, but just how would he get them all from the saloon at once? A commotion in the street may do it.
Then it came to him. The saloon had huge glass windows, and windows break. Someone did it at the Blue Bear once, and it made a horrible racket that drew everyone out into the street. A brick was used then, but, looking around, he saw nothing of that nature nearby, not even a rock of any size. Then he spotted a horseshoe in the street. It was a large horseshoe, like ones used on plow horses, and he climbed down from the stallion to retrieve it.
Just as he stooped in the street to pick it up, Dunlap, followed by all of his deputies, burst through the swinging doors of the saloon. They appeared to be in a big hurry to go somewhere.
Luke lifted the big bore and yelled, “Dunlap..!” This was enough to freeze them in their tracks long enough to take a group shot, and the big gun thundered.
When Luke turned to race back for the horse, he was surprised to see the big animal there at his back. He mounted, took one of the fifty calibers, and waited briefly for the smoke to clear. And when it did, he saw all five of them down, Dunlap on his knees in the street clutching his chest.
“McKinney..!” Jeb shouted and reached feebly for a rifle on the gravel street before him.
