by J. R. WRIGHT
Harney, a fiftyish, white-haired, white-bearded man of average height, spotted them coming in and waved them over. He was at a table with five other men, three in blue military uniforms, including Harney, and three in buckskins. The three bearded, buckskin clad men were obviously the wagon masters of that enormously large wagon train.
“Gentlemen, you all know Colonel Snively.” Harney got to his feet and stepped away from the table. “This man, I presume, is the notorious Tom Hill I’ve heard so much about for these past weeks.” He put out a hand.
“General,” Luke said, taking the hand for a firm shake.
“Before I introduce you, I must know how we stand with the Cheyenne, Hill?”
“Pretty much the same as before, I reckon.” Luke avoided Harney’s glare, studying the faces around the table instead. “They hate us and we pretty much dislike them in return. Aside from that, we have secured an agreement with them to pass over their lands with that wagon train.”
“Good!” “Great!” “Wonderful!” came from around the table, while Colonel Snively beamed.
“Under my terms?” Harney was quick to ask.
“I believe so. I came up with a plan I think you will agree with. It was approved by the Cheyenne council chiefs just three days ago. It calls for five columns of wagons and animals a mile to a mile and a quarter apart, traveling abreast. The center column will consist of the military.”
“I like it,” Harney said. “But what of grazing?”
“It will be allowed twice each day or about every ten miles. The only exception is if a buffalo heard is approaching. If that happens, all wagons must halt until they have passed. Other stipulations are…”
“Will we be allowed to take buffalo?” one of the buckskinned wagon masters asked.
“If you want to die,” Luke was quick to say. “What would you do if someone shot one of your oxen? The Indians feel the same about the buffalo. If it’s on their land, they feel they own it.”
“What else?” Harney said smartly.
“The width of each column can never be wider than a wagon. Everyone must follow, no spreading out.”
“Except for the cavalry!” Harney said demandingly.
“No roaming. That was made clear by the council chiefs. The whole idea is to destroy as little grass as possible. Buffalo won’t cross a broad trail. That’s their main concern,” Luke said.
“Listen, Hill, obviously you know nothing about proper military maneuvering when it comes to the escort. Our horsemen move about continuously so as to spot approaching danger.”
“What I know, or do not know, has nothing to do with it. You’ll either do as they ask or violate the agreement. General, these people have the power to shut down the trail. And they will do that if their conditions aren’t followed to the letter.”
“Well, Hill, I see we have a difference of opinion about what these Cheyenne can and cannot demand. This is the United States of America, sir. And being such, the country’s military has the power invested in them to travel anywhere they choose. I’m certainly not going to bow down to a pack of filthy redskins. Not when it comes to the safety of those people on that wagon train.”
“Do as you wish, sir. I’m just relaying their demands. If you meet those demands, all will roll along just fine. If you don’t, I assure you, there will be trouble.”
“There’ll be trouble alright,” Harney said boldly, to the horrified looks on the other faces at the table.
“Then suit yourself, General,” Luke returned with disgust in his tone. “I’ve done all I can for you. From here on out, you’re on your own.” He then turned and walked away.
“Mister Hill, I haven’t excused you!” Harney bellowed.
Luke halted and turned.
“You’re under my command now!”
“No, sir! I quit!” With that, Luke continued on out of the tent, leaving Colonel Snively at odds as to what to do next. He wanted to chase after him, but thought better of it.
“Colonel!” Harney demanded. “Get him back in here!”
“I’m sorry, sir, I have no power to do that. Hill is freelance. He can walk away any time he wants, and there’s not a thing either of us can do about it.”
“Then get me another scout! I need someone to get back over to that Cheyenne village and set those savages straight on a few things.”
“There are no other scouts under my command, sir. Hill has always been enough for our needs.”
“What about that Bordeaux that accompanied Hill?”
“He’s a private citizen, sir. And, I might add, a good friend of Tom Hill.”
“There has to be somebody!” Harney fumed and angrily sat back down at the table. The other five there were doing their damndest to avoid his glare.
The following morning General Harney paid a visit to James Bordeaux at his store in person.
“Mister Bordeaux, I understand you were a party to that flawed agreement of passage with the Cheyenne?”
“How could the agreement be flawed, sir? It was the only agreement possible. Thanks to Tom Hill and his quick thinking in the creation of the five column plan, or there would’ve been no agreement at all.”
“The treaty of eighteen fifty-one clearly states…” Harney began to argue.
“The treaty of fifty-one does not apply to the Cheyenne. I was there, remember? In fact, I wrote a good portion of it. The Cheyenne never signed it.”
“I don’t see how that makes them exempt!”
“What exactly are you after, sir? Is it my opinion, or the law? The law says the land is theirs as if it was a separate nation. And it’s been that way since Thomas Jefferson was president.”
With that, Harney huffed and left the store. He smartly mounted his white stallion and rode away toward the wagon train that was lining up to pull out.
“God help them!” Bordeaux said aloud, shaking his head pitifully.
“What do you think he’ll do?” Luke said, coming from the back. He had heard the entire conversation.
“He’d best follow the agreement if he knows what’s good for all concerned.”
That afternoon Luke left out for Fort Kearny. He would stop by the Amos Jantz farm, pick up the team of mules, and go on to Independence. It was time he got on with his plan. The west was waiting.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Sarah was in her shop nine days later when Luke made his appearance at the door. He had already deposited the mules at the livery and was now anxious for a hot bath and a few days’ rest before going in search of a wagon.
With no customers in the shop, Sarah came running at first glimpse of him through the parted curtain from the back. His dusty old hat went flying when she leaped into his arms with a lengthy kiss.
“I didn’t expect you so soon,” she said when he let her down. “You said late summer in your letter.”
“Well, if I’m too soon…” He reached for the door.
“Don’t be silly. Come with me. I want to show you something.” She took him by the hand and led him through the back to the rear door and flung it open.
“A wagon…? You bought a covered wagon?”
“Yep! And it’s all packed. I even bought a bed and put it in there.”
“Pots and pans and a team of mules to pull it with?” he said coyly.
“Yes, pot and pans,” she said blankly. “Mules this time of year are hard to come by. But I’ll find some, you just wait and see!”
“I thought of that,” he said with a smile. “They’re over at the livery.”
“You were teasing me!” She looked into his eyes and came in for another kiss. With that, he scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom.
Four days later they were on the trail. To Sarah, this was the honeymoon she never had. Of course they weren’t married, but that didn’t matter to her. She could pretend, couldn’t she? At least now she had Luke all to herself, and that was all that mattered for the moment. Her aunt was installed in her dress shop, and her partner in the hotel h
ad purchased her share for a tidy sum. She was free, totally free now, for the first time in her life. And she had the man she most wanted to be free with by her side. No more nagging customers, no more bills to pay. With a breeze in her face and a bonnet on her head, she was happy beyond words.
“Aren’t you going to ask where we are going?” Luke asked.
“Nope! I want it to be a surprise.” She laid her head on his shoulder.
They followed along behind a late leaving wagon train for the first two hundred miles of the trip, and then Luke steered the wagon off the trail and into the hills beyond. By nightfall he located a clear water stream and they made camp. Here they would rest the red mules that had pulled the wagon for a few days, while he and Sarah did some scouting, riding double on the calico. She took to the two of them well, and it reminded the both of them of when they first met and were forced to ride double to escape the Indians pursuing them. Sarah laughed, but it wasn’t funny at the time, they both agreed.
Later in the day, Luke spotted a lone antelope and brought it down with one of the three new fifty caliber Hawken rifles he had purchased in Independence before leaving. Back in camp they spent the remainder of the day stripping the meat, brining it, and stringing it on smoke poles over a lazy fire. Afterward, they took a dip in the spring and settled in between buffalo robes for gentle sex.
“If this is heaven, I want to stay,” Sarah said afterward. But it wasn’t. Five minutes later a dozen Pawnee out on a hunt, and smelling the cooking meat from a goodly distance, rode up on them, whooping and hollering, hoping to scare them away from their kill.
This, Luke wasn’t about to tolerate. Buck naked he went for the loaded guns and fired off all three of them in rapid succession, scaring the Pawnee away.
“Will they return?” Sarah asked, hurriedly dressing.
“Nah,” Luke said, but he would keep the rifles loaded and handy just in case.
Seven days after leaving the clear water stream, Luke and Sarah crested a line of hills to look down on the most beautiful green valley either of them had ever seen. It was about five miles in diameter, and at first glance reminded Sarah of a wash basin, or better yet, since it was so deep, a cup.
“Tea cup,” she said quite without thinking.
“This is it,” Luke said. “The perfect place for our ranch. Look, the river falls down the mountain there to the north and runs out through that gorge yonder.” He pointed due south.
“It’s beautiful,” she said, taking in the vastness of it.
With that, Luke noted his surroundings, then pulled his compass to get his bearings before sketching a map of the area. Finally he said, “We’ll camp down there. I want to see how the mules react to that grass.” From here the grass looked lush, but he knew from experience, some grass, for whatever reason, didn’t sit well with animals.
“How will we get down there, Luke?” Sarah looked around for a way to descend, but saw none.
“We’ll need to get back down below, come through that gorge yonder. There’s only one way in and one way out, by the looks of it.”
By nightfall they had reached the river that flowed through the deep gorge and traveled along it until they came to the valley before making camp in darkness. There would be no fire tonight, Luke decided. There was too much of a chance of it being spotted from up on the rim. He didn’t want the serenity of this glorious place spoiled by rampaging Indians so soon after discovering it.
Luke and Sarah spent the next two weeks here. They moved camp every day and rode over near all of it before selecting the ideal place for the cabin and ranch stead. It was along the river about a mile from the gorge opening, where young cottonwoods, just the right diameter for cabin walls, grew in abundance. The river there flowed over rocks sparkling clean, and trout flopped in the current. Sarah was ecstatic about the location.
“Is it really going to happen, Luke? I’m so excited!” She danced up to him.
“Count on it, Sarah. By this time next year, we’ll have a working ranch, complete with cattle and horses. In fact, I’m thinking of bringing the horses in this fall, if I can hire the help.”
“Where will you buy enough horses, way out here?”
“You must remember those red horses we brought back from the North Country. Well, if my calculations are correct, they’re in a canyon not forty miles from here.”
“You found a place to keep them?”
“Wild horse canyon,” he said. “I put them in with hundreds of mustangs. I doubt those two are still alive, but I bet we’ll find plenty of offspring with that stallion’s red in their markings. After sixteen years, there could be hundreds with his blood pumping through their veins.”
“There could,” she agreed, knowing a few things about horses herself. After all, her and Frank did have a horse ranch, if only for five years. “How many hands will it take to bring them here?”
“Depends on how many worthwhile horses are there now. It may take thirty or forty excellent riders just to drive them from that canyon. Then, getting them here will be another story.”
“Are you forgetting how you got the two horses down from the North Country?” Sarah gazed into his eyes.
“Corn!” he said, returning her gaze. “Of course, it will take a lot of it. There’s a corn farmer along the Platte near Kearny. He hawks it to travelers on the trail each season.”
“What are we waiting for?” Sarah said joyfully.
Luke thought for a moment. “We’ll need to find a place for what’s in the wagon. Do you think that rock cave we spotted at the far end has any size to it?”
Upon close examination, after a half hour of climbing, they found the cave to be quite adequate for what they needed it for. In fact, more than adequate. “People could live in here,” Luke said. The opening was small. He had to duck to get in. But the interior opened up nicely to the size of a small house.
“We could close off the opening further in, put in a door?”
“We could,” Sarah said unenthusiastically, looking around at the jagged rocks that served as walls. There was evidence the place was frequently inhabited by animals, perhaps even bears.
“Just until we get a cabin built?”
“Fine,” she said.
Once the contents from the wagon were in the cave, a chore that took the two of them the remainder of the day and half of the next, Sarah went to work cleaning the place. All the while Luke gathered drift logs from along the river to saw into planks for closing off the opening.
That night they slept in their new home for the first time. Come morning, Sarah had to admit it did have the feel of a real home. Especially since they had slept in a real bed for the first time in over a month.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Luke had not forgotten the promise he had made to James Bordeaux of a mule as replacement for the one given up to the Cheyenne. Since they were in the area of the Jantz farm in search of corn anyway, he decided to make the purchase and proceeded on to Fort Laramie to deliver it. The plan now was to pick up corn on the way back, then head directly from there to Wild Horse Canyon.
At Laramie, however, everything changed again. Indian Agent Thomas Twiss had left word at Bordeaux’s store that should Tom Hill come there, he needed to speak with him immediately up at the fort.
“What is it you reckon Twiss wants?” Luke asked when Bordeaux came from the back a while after Cola had given him the news and gone that way with Sarah.
“He wouldn’t say.” Bordeaux shrugged his shoulders. “Will you see him, Tom?”
“I don’t see why not. Twiss is a good sort. I won’t go up to the fort, though. I’m done with the army. If he wants me, I guess he can come down here.”
“I’ll go up and get him,” Bordeaux said, glancing outside. “I want to try out that new mule anyway. Cola told me. Thanks Tom!”
“Thank Colonel Snively. He’s the one paying for it.”
“I will, when I see him,” Bordeaux said. “But I’m thanking you for delivering him.
And thanks for bringing your lady friend. She and Cola are hitting it off real well. They’re in back now visiting with Bright Moon and playing with the baby.”
“Sarah’s a wonderful woman, James. I still wonder about Breanne though, from time to time. More so now that I know she lives. Hear anything from your letter writing?”
“Nothing positive yet, Tom. There are some yet to come, though. We can hope.”
“That’s all I’ve done for the last year. I guess I can do it for a while longer,” Luke said, looking out at the two mules tied behind the wagon: his calico and the white one he selected for Bordeaux. “I have the saddle and hackamore bridle she was broke with in the wagon.”
“Saddle and bridle too? You are really sticking it to Snively!”
“It’s only fair. You gave up a saddle and bridle, didn’t you? Come on, I’ll help you saddle her. This one is a little different.”
“What, the saddle or the mule?”
“The mule. You know how mine lays down on command? Well, this one sits down.”
Once Luke had her saddled, he gave the order, “Sit,” and the mule instantly went down on its rump. He then walked up behind her, got a firm grip on the saddle horn, ordered her up, and she lifted beneath him. “See?” he said from the saddle and laughed.
Bordeaux laughed as well. “Jesus, Tom! That almost seems too easy. Let me try that.”
Luke ordered the mule down and got off. Bordeaux took a position behind the mule, clutched the saddle horn and looked to Luke for the command.
“Give the order, James. What, do you think I’m going to follow you around just to give your mule commands?”
“Up,” Bordeaux said, and just as before, the mule came up beneath him. The only difference was, Bordeaux didn’t throw his legs forward when the mule lifted and ended up lying across the mule’s back, and eventually fell off. He now lay on the ground laughing so hard he couldn’t get up.
“I think you’d better stick with the old way of boarding, James,” Luke teased. “I wouldn’t want you to kill yourself because you can’t get the hang of it.”
