by Marian Wells
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Just don’t say anything. I promise I’ll be back as soon as possible. Before morning. But whatever happens—if I’m delayed, stay with Mother and Father.”
She went to shove food into a bag. He followed her. “Remember, I’m under arrest, too. Don’t say anything.”
She watched him through the window. He casually wandered behind the line of cabins and disappeared into the trees. Leaning against the window, Amy whispered, “Before morning.”
Chapter 17
Daniel walked slowly around the buildings bordering the stockade. He hesitated, waiting for a challenge. There was only silence. He stepped through the broken fence and waited for another moment while he casually studied the parade grounds. Taking a deep breath he straightened his shoulders and walked out of Fort Union.
Daniel kept his steps slow and measured as he headed up the mesa. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he continued to anticipate the guard’s shout, the gunfire.
Just below the crest of the mesa, he reached a line of trees and stopped to catch his breath. When he turned to measure the distance he had traveled, he was surprised to see the whole of Fort Union spread before him.
Shading his eyes from the late afternoon sun, he studied the terrain, looking for a sign of movement near the guard post. The sentry marched slowly back and forth. He could see the flagpole with the stars and stripes whipping lazily in the breeze.
As he turned to begin the final climb, he hesitated. Just to his right, down the steep slope, lay the star fort. Slowly he muttered, “It’s a good thing the Confederates didn’t make it this far. The slope of the hill has left the entire fort open to view. A howitzer could drop a half dozen shells right in the middle of the star fort before the fellows could move.” Shaking his head, he started the steep climb to the top of the mesa.
Daniel walked through the trees, stopping every few minutes to listen and study the peaceful scene at the foot of the mesa. “Well, Matthew, my friend,” he muttered, “it’s easy to guess you had an unchallenged exit from Fort Union, just as I did.” And then he added, “God, help me catch up with him before they do.”
The late afternoon sun slipped behind the distant hills, throwing Daniel into shadows. He quickened his steps, muttering, “It’s going to be dark in less than an hour. My chances of picking up Matthew’s trail are fast disappearing.”
Just before breaking out on top of the tree-covered mesa, he paused to look around once more. To the west the pattern of light and shadow seemed to move. For a moment he froze. Was that a movement in the trees to his left? He studied the terrain for a long time before he began to move again. This time he kept his eyes focused on the dense wood in front of him.
Daniel had been walking for nearly an hour up the plateau and down the other side into deep woods. The shadows had deepened when he heard a twig snap. He paused, then eased into the shadow of a fir and waited. When he was nearly ready to step out again, he heard another snap. Now he could detect the low murmur of voices. As he continued to stand in the shadows, he heard a crackling noise, then a flare of flame caught his attention.
In the deepening dusk it became a beacon, and he edged toward the light—step, wait, step, wait.
The smell of roasting meat drifted up to him, tightening his stomach with hunger pangs. Slowly Daniel shifted his position, trying to see down the incline. A rock slipped and he froze. Just below him two men were talking. As one fellow repositioned the rack of meat strips, his unseen partner said, “Sibley’s going to be pleased. Didn’t expect this bonus.”
The cook turned on one heel. “Goes to prove a general lack of intelligence and foresight when they built that fort. Might say it points up the super intelligence of our forces.” The man snickered, adding, “Planting that fort underground without checking the terrain.” He paused to shake his head before saying, “Seems tightening up the Army’s loose spots will be first priority after we take over—and that’s your job, Wood.”
“You’re confident, Ellis,” the other voice mused. “This war isn’t over yet.”
His friend chuckled softly, “I know, but I don’t think I’m counting chicks where there ain’t no eggs.” Again there was a pause and then an impatient, “I hate this waiting. Why wouldn’t Tristram let us rendezvous with him?”
“Sometimes it doesn’t pay to ask questions,” Daniel heard the mild-voiced man reply. He watched him look toward his partner before he added, “He’s the boss this trip. We follow orders. That meat done?”
After his initial reaction to the name, Daniel began lining up the facts. Tristram, Confederates. He couldn’t believe his ears. Were they saying Tristram was involved with the Confederates? He measured the idea against the picture of Tristram in Santa Fe. Remembering the background of gray uniforms, Daniel started to ease himself to his feet when he heard the horse. Slowly he sank back in the bushes and waited.
“Lucas, that you?”
“Who else?” From the sound of the heavy voice, Daniel guessed the man to be extremely fatigued. He peered around his screen of trees as the man approached the fire. While he tethered his horse, Daniel studied the drab miner’s garb, realizing he wouldn’t have recognized Tristram in a crowd.
Good thing that fellow named him. Sure doesn’t look like the dandy I saw in Santa Fe.
“Supper’ll be ready in a few minutes. Didn’t want to smell up the whole hillside with smoke and meat.”
The cook inched closer to Tristram. “Have a good trip?” Tristram nodded. The fellow persisted. “Well, what did you find out?”
Tristram grinned across the fire. “Might say I’ll wait for dinner and the right person to hear me out.” With a grin he rubbed his fingers together.
“At times, Tristram, I get the feeling you’re more interested in the gold than the cause of the Confederacy,” the other man said. Daniel detected a note of authority in the man’s voice and he tried to peer at the face hidden by the smoke.
Tristram’s voice was mild. “You’re paying me for a significant job. Might be that just keeping you hidden behind the shield of that dirty shirt is worth the gold it costs the Confederacy.”
There was silence. Daniel held his breath, trying to avoid giving away his presence by the surge of excitement and curiosity he felt.
“Wanna tell us who the contact was?”
“No.” The reply was terse. Tristram helped himself to the pot of coffee, drank and then added, “The less you know the better—for all of us. The information you have is enough, and the only other item you need to know is that he’s an important political figure. When the Confederacy runs up their flag over Colorado, then will be the time to let you men meet him.”
“Well, give us some details. And it had better be good.”
Tristram nodded, sipped his coffee and said, “Better than it was a month ago. You know the leaflets have been spread in every mining camp of size. There’s been good support. The only negative thing I have to report is that Gilpin’s still throwing his weight around, so much so they’re starting to say Lincoln’s taking notice. Already he’s talking replacement.”
“What’s been happening?”
“Well, you know Gilpin was responsible for getting the true blues riled up to the point the Colorado Volunteer Army was organized. Now everywhere our fellows go, trying to buy up arms and powder, there’s a crowd jeering along behind, calling them traitors and copperheads. It’s making things uncomfortable. Our men were run out of Oro City.”
There was a terse string of oaths. Tristram spoke out of the silence. “I’m trying to cover that negative reaction with a good image. Pays to keep friends in a camp as significant as Oro City. Gilpin. Now he’s pushed his way in without waiting for Lincoln’s orders. He’s issued drafts on the United States treasury to support his army, and in addition he’s buying arms without Washington’s permission.”
“Well, if Washington doesn’t put a stop to this in the next few weeks, we’ll have to help them out.”
 
; “Washington might not be in a position to issue orders of any kind,” the fellow beside the fire sneered.
“What do you mean?” Tristram shifted on his heels and faced the man beside him.
There was a faint smile on his face as he said, “Guess this far from Washington it won’t do any harm to drop a gem. For the past year there’s been plans afoot to blow up the capitol. So far Secretary Walker has put the plans on hold, but we’re not ruling it out yet.”
There was a long silence. The meat continued to sputter over the fire and the aroma drifted up to Daniel. Finally Tristram spoke. His voice was mild, even gently chiding as he said, “Well, something is going to have to happen. It’s general knowledge any place the Confederacy congregates—money’s the biggest problem we have. It will continue to be so. Obviously it’s to our advantage to get this war over as soon as possible. President Jefferson Davis soon will be without funds unless he can stir up a little more loyalty.”
The cook grumbled, “Heard from back home that he’s getting the money by grabbin’ up—”
The rock beneath Daniel started to slip. Quickly he made his decision. Lurching to his feet, he called, “Hallo down there!” With giant strides propelled by the sliding earth, he plunged into camp.
He was nodding and smiling as he strolled up to the fire. “Your supper smells mighty good. You fellows have an extra hunk? One of the dear sisters sent me on my way with a loaf of fresh bread.”
From a sitting position they spun on their heels and the cook pointed his knife as Daniel hurriedly said, “Methodist Episcopal Church—name’s Daniel Gerrett. I make it a habit to preach wherever I put my foot down.”
The man stood and introduced himself. “I’m Wood; the cook there is Ellis.”
“Glad to make your acquaintance,” Daniel said.
There was silence and then the cook nodded. “Yer welcome, especially with bread, but you can forget the preachin’. I’ve a feeling north and south preaching is a mite different.”
Wood drawled, “Now, Ellis, that’s not hospitable. ’Sides, it’s the same God. We’re Christians, Parson.” The cold gray eyes studied Daniel.
“Ya come from the fort?”
“Yes, headed out Taos way.”
“Better stay clear of Santa Fe. They’re sticking loose white men in prison, uniform or no.”
“Why?” The firelight revealed the quick, shrewd glance of Wood.
“War time,” the cook replied. “Where’s that bread?”
From the corner of his eye, Daniel saw Tristram stir. He turned casually. “Well—we meet again.” He addressed the group around the fire. “Met Lucas Tristram in Santa Fe a couple of weeks ago. Surprised to see you. Figured you’d be back home by now.”
Slowly Tristram got to his feet. He teetered back and forth on his heels as Daniel explained. “I’m headed toward Taos. Saw the fire and smelled the meat. Gets lonesome, this traveling by yourself.”
“Alone? Where’s your mount?”
“We came to a parting of ways. I’ve left my wife with her parents.” He paused, then hurriedly added, “Sure didn’t expect the forest to yield such a high number of travelers.”
When Daniel pulled out the loaf of bread, he saw the slight nod Tristram gave. Handing over the bread, he tried to breathe more slowly.
As he hunkered down beside the fire, he was thinking of Matthew and mentally surrendering him. Lord, only you know where he is; please take care of him.
****
The sky had begun to show signs of dawn when Daniel awakened to hear the cook whisper, “Lucas, I can stick him with my knife.”
“Not yet. I’ve a feeling he could be useful.”
Daniel tried to keep his breathing slow and even as he waited for the dawn.
After eating the rest of the meat and bread, washed down with coffee, Daniel said casually, “Well, I guess I’ll just say my goodbyes and head over the hills.”
Just as casually Tristram said, “Might as well ride along with us. The packhorse will accommodate a rider. At least we’ll see the parson gets fed.”
After reflecting on the stony faces surrounding him, Daniel shrugged and said, “Be better than depending on shank’s mare. Are you heading toward Taos?”
“By way of Santa Fe.” Daniel looked at the speaker; it was the cook, the one who had warned him away from Santa Fe.
“Maybe I’ll just avoid Santa Fe.”
Wood’s voice was soft as he said, “It’ll be safe with us along.”
Daniel nodded slowly. Two or three days’ travel. I’ll never catch up with Matt. He turned away to hide the dismay he felt.
That day, as they rode, the cook sang. It was a tuneless montage of sound that grated on the nerves, but no one except Daniel seemed to notice it.
The day passed slowly as Daniel jogged down the trail on the bony packhorse. In the evening, around the fire, Tristram drawled, “Gerrett, for a preacher, you’re mighty quiet. I thought preachers were instant in season and out.”
He kept his voice light. “I don’t preach before supper, but I’ll be glad to entertain you as soon as we eat. Tonight I can contribute a small sausage.”
Later, around the fire, Tristram said, “You are too young to have been a preacher for long. You had a mining claim in Central City. Why didn’t you stick to it? Digging gold pays better than preaching.”
“I guess I feel my job now is more important. God is calling me to guard the gold in men’s lives.”
The cook stirred and adjusted his hat. “What’s gold in a man if he doesn’t have it in his teeth?”
“The freedom to choose without being forced. God gives us this gift. Unfortunately some men are more than eager to take it away from others. In addition I see Christianity as gold in men’s lives. Sometimes it’s hidden away by the care of living. I reckon it needs to be taken out and polished.”
The cook snored deeply, and ruefully Daniel said, “I guess it’s time to end this sermon.”
“That’s all right,” Tristram drawled. “You’ve tomorrow and the next day. Maybe you’ll have polished all our metal before this trip is over.”
Chapter 18
That night Daniel tossed restlessly, wondering what lay ahead of him, and worried about Amy. The small fire had burned away to warm ash before he was able to surrender the troubling thoughts of Amy.
All too soon, it seemed, they were back on the trail. Dawn was lighting the sky with a touch of pink when they pulled out. But in the eerie quiet of the shadowy mountains, Daniel felt as if night had become part of him. As they rode, the sun rose above the trees and bathed the group with warmth. Then Daniel began to realize the trip was half over.
He eyed the cook slumped in his saddle, singing the tuneless song, and the questions cropped up again. Why had the man warned him against going to Santa Fe?
Late in morning, just as Daniel made up his mind to talk about Taos again, Tristram turned to look at him. The perplexed frown on his face brought Daniel out of his musing. “Something wrong?” he asked.
Tristram nodded. Jerking at the reins, he turned his mount. “I hear horses, more than just a few.” He dug his heels into his mount. “I’ll go take a look—just keep on and don’t stop for anything.” His orders encompassed them all. The men watched as Daniel nodded and slapped the reins smartly. Their horses moved out at a trot while Tristram cut up the side of the bank, away from the road.
As they rode the sound of hoofbeats grew louder, and the men began exchanging worried glances. When they frowned Daniel’s direction, he pulled even with them and said, “Do you suppose it’s Indians?”
Wood had been remote, saying little as he kept his distance from Daniel. Now his eyes were uneasy with concern as he rode Daniel’s direction. “Too many.” He frowned but he held his horse, continuing to study Daniel. Finally he confided, “I don’t know why Tristram said to keep on going, but I think we’d better do what he says.”
With a curt nod, he dug his heels in the horse’s sides and galloped ahead.
Ellis jerked his head, and Daniel nudged the horse under him. Within a short time, the road in front of them wound up a steep hill and the horses slowed.
Daniel looked back as they took the next curve. His heart thudded. The horses were coming fast. He could see the dust and guessed there were many of them. Soon the thunder of the horses’ hooves on the road blocked out all else. The cook lashed at his horse as a cloud of dust rose in the canyon. As Daniel started to slap the packhorse, he paused. Down the hill, coming around the curve, he saw the group pursuing them. All the riders were wearing blue uniforms.
Wood whirled on Daniel. “This is your doing?” Daniel had only time to turn his head when the man’s whip lashed out at the packhorse. The horse reared, then plunged sideways against the Ellis’s mount. Both horses stumbled. With a curse, the man yanked his horse away. Daniel saw it was too late. He jumped just as the three horses lunged into each other.
The sounds of hooves and warning cries mingled. Daniel sprinted away from the road while the plunging horses circled the group and stopped.
Daniel ran toward his horse just as the first soldier dropped from his mount. The pistol was cocked, pointed at Daniel. He heard the words. “Gerrett, you’re under arrest. Men, get those friends of his.”
When the dust settled, the three were aligned in front of the young lieutenant from Fort Union. He waved the pistol at Daniel and said, “You nearly cost me my commission. These are your contacts? I suppose you’ve had this planned all along. Well, come on. The prison in Santa Fe will be less crowded.”
“Santa Fe?” the cook sputtered. “That’s—”
“Shut up!” Wood snarled out the words, while the lieutenant watched. As his prancing horse stepped sideways, the lieutenant pulled it under control and said, “I’m Dayton, United States Army, in charge of this detail. You men will fall in ahead of me. We’re riding into Santa Fe as fast as we can get there.”
An enlisted man circled back to Daniel and grinned. “Lead out. This is going to be interesting,” he crowed. “I can’t wait to get to Santa Fe. Our men are shoving at the Confederates right smart like.”