Bitterroot

by Charles G. West

  The result of Tom’s assault was general confusion among the rest of the Blackfeet. In less than a quarter of an hour, they had lost nine warriors and found themselves caught in a crossfire. Encouraged by the confusion of their attackers, a couple of the men came out from behind the flimsy breastworks and were now firing at the Blackfeet from above them on the creek’s bank. Totally demoralized, the Indians withdrew, carrying as many of their dead as they could manage to recover. Satisfied that there would be no more trouble from this band, Tom held his fire while a Blackfoot brave risked his life to pick up a fallen comrade and made his way back to their ponies. He stood silently watching as the band of raiders mounted in haste and rode out of the valley.

  * * *

  “God’s bones!” Scarborough swore. He stood on the bank of the stream, cold and still now where moments earlier it had crackled hot with flying lead. “Look at ’em run!” He turned to the man at his side, who was busily reloading his rifle. “I swear, John, they was dead Injuns all over this here crick. I ain’t never seed sich shooting.” Both men were straining to get a look at their rescuer. As they stood staring out toward the point on the creek where the rifle fire came from, they were soon joined by several others, now that the danger appeared to be over.

  One of the party said, “Yonder he is,” as Tom stood up from behind the log he had used for cover.

  John asked, “You know him, Scarborough? I cain’t make him out.”

  “I don’t ‘low as how I’ve ever seed him before, but I’ll tell you this, he’s shore as hell a dear friend of mine now.” Noticing that Tom was now raising his arm in greeting, he called out, “Welcome, friend. Come on in!”

  The men watched as Tom acknowledged their welcome with a wave of his arm, then turned away and disappeared into the trees. “Hell,” Scarborough exclaimed, “he ain’t coming in.” But then Tom reappeared on horseback, starting across the stream.

  “He just had to get his horse,” John voiced the obvious. They stood in silence, watching the stranger ford the stream and climb up the bank. “He shore looks familiar somehow,” he said, his voice trailing off as he studied the approaching rider. There was a moment of silence, and then he remembered. “Damn a mule, Scarborough! You know who that is?” He didn’t wait for his friend’s response. “That’s that Dakota feller…kilt that soldier in Miles City!”

  “You shore?” Scarborough replied, his voice low now that the rider was almost in hearing distance.

  “Shore as boars got nuts and sows ain’t. Look at ’em! We seen him in the saloon the night before he done it. You remember. You warn’t that drunk. It’s him, I tell ya. Ain’t no surprise he’s mighty handy with that rifle.”

  “Danged if I don’t believe you’re right. It’s him all right.” Scarborough quickly thought this revelation over, wondering if the identity of the man posed any threat to his pack train. There was very little he could do about it at that point, so he decided that it was not for him to question. It wasn’t any of his affair, the thing that happened between Dakota and the soldier. Maybe Dakota had little choice in the matter—only Dakota could answer that one. But one thing Scarborough knew for a fact—the man had saved their bacon on this day and for that he was obliged. “Mister,” he called out, “you shore come along at a proper time!”

  Tom reined up and dismounted. “Looked like they had you pinned down. Just lucky I heard the shooting, I guess.”

  “I’m James Scarborough. This here is John Butcher. We’re leading this party of folks to Bozeman.” He gestured toward the small group of men gathering to see the man who had driven off the savages.

  John Butcher stepped forward and extended his hand. “Dakota, ain’t it? You shore tied a knot in them Injuns’ string.”

  Tom was startled, surprised that the man knew who he was. He had not expected it, and in fact, had not even considered it. Tom managed to conceal his concern for having been recognized. He took John Butcher’s outstretched hand and shook it briefly, a nod of his head the only reply to the greeting.

  Scarborough stepped forward and offered his own hand, which Tom accepted. “Well, Mr. Dakota, come on over to the fire and we’ll see if one of the women-folk can rustle you up somethin’ to eat. You done a day’s work out there. You could most likely use somethin’, couldn’t you?” He led the way toward the willow fort.

  “I would appreciate a cup of coffee, if you have any to spare,” Tom replied, following him.

  The group of men parted to make way for him. A small, slightly built man standing to one side of the group had been studying the stranger very carefully. As he watched the tall young man in the buckskins and buffalo coat pass within a few feet of him, he suddenly asked, “Tom? Tom Allred?”

  Tom halted in his tracks. He turned to face the man. At once he recognized the little man. “Jubal!” he exclaimed. His reaction brought a broad smile to the little man’s face. “What in the world are you doing out here?” He hurried to grab Jubal’s outstretched hand, and the two men pounded each other vigorously on the back. The unexpected reunion left the rest of the men staring in wonder, waiting for the two of them to finish their greeting and get on with the explanation.

  Jubal Clay took Tom by the arm and quickly told him how he happened to be in a mule pack train headed to Bozeman instead of running his store back in Ruby’s Choice. “The town petered out,” he explained. “We might’a stayed anyway, but we was visited one night by a band of Sioux, and they decided it would be a good idea to burn the store down. We saved what we could. Then Scarborough and this bunch come by, and we figured, hell, we might as well go with ’em.”

  “This is a helluva time of year for a train to be traveling through this country, even if you don’t have wagons. How come you’re camped over here anyway? You’re a’ways off the trail to Bozeman, aren’t you?”

  Jubal shrugged. “It was Scarborough’s idea. After that storm hit a couple days back, we was afraid we was in for it, and he knew about this place. Said it was a better place to hole up if we were gonna be snowed in for any time. But, hell, the storm let up and quit after a day. We’re fixin’ to get started again in the mornin’.” He paused to give Tom a huge grin. “I know somebody’s gonna be surprised to see you.”

  Tom felt a tingling sensation run down the length of his spine. He tried not to reveal the excitement he felt at the thought of seeing her again. As casually as he could manage, he asked, “You mean nobody’s married Ruby yet?”

  “Nope. It ain’t like she ain’t had plenty of chances.”

  Suddenly Tom went all numb inside, a feeling that was hard for him to understand. His heart had nearly skipped a beat with the mention of her name. He could now feel his pulse quicken in anticipation of seeing Jubal’s daughter again, but he sought to delay the encounter, at least until he could prepare his emotions. It had been almost a year since he last saw her, though it seemed longer. Still, he had made a considerable effort to banish her from his thoughts, and now the mere mention of her name proved that he had been unsuccessful.

  “Wait,” he said, “I’ve got to fetch my packhorses. I left them back on the other side of the hill.” He stepped up in the saddle and turned Billy back toward the stream.

  Jubal stepped out of his way. “You need some help fetchin’ ’em?”

  “No, no thanks. I’ll be right back.”

  “Hurry up then. I’ll have Ruby make us some coffee.”

  * * *

  From inside the makeshift fort, she had watched with more than a casual interest as the men talked to the stranger who had come to their aid. He had come at an opportune time, for it had appeared that the savages would be able to pin them down indefinitely. From this distance she could not see the man very well, but there was a feeling deep inside her that she could not explain, an urgency mixed with a feeling of coming home, as if everything would now be all right. When he mounted his horse and turned away, she felt a sinking in her bosom, feeling despair that he was leaving. She continued to stare at the point in the
trees where she last saw him as she absentmindedly reached up and pulled the fur cap from her head making an effort to straighten her tousled hair. She glanced down at her hands, soiled with grease from loading and reloading rifles for her father during the attack. Walking away from the fire, she picked up some snow and cleaned her hands. It was obvious that her father knew the man—she could tell that by the way they greeted each other. So she went about making the coffee before Jubal returned to their campfire. She only paused to watch her father when he came striding back, a grin covering his face.

  “Ruby!” he called out cheerfully. “Looks like we got some company for supper.”

  “That so?” A feeling of excitement was building up inside her, but she would never show it. Instead, she appeared to be disinterested as she busied herself with preparing their meal. Finally she paused and looked at her father, who was still grinning as if he held a powerful secret. “Well, are you gonna tell me who it is?”

  “I reckon you’ll know him when you see him.”

  It was obvious her father was enjoying the surprise, so much so that she was now certain why she had felt this excitement. Although she had never voiced it, Jubal was smart enough to know there was a marked change in his daughter when Tom Allred rode out of Ruby’s Choice a year ago this spring It was him! She was sure of it now. She knew he would come back. He had to because she had known for some time now that Tom Allred was the only man she could marry.

  When the coffee was on and a pot of boiled venison was set on the coals to warm, she brushed her hair and pinched her cheeks lightly in an effort to bring some color to them. It’ll have to do, she thought. In this rough camp, there was little opportunity for primping.

  Outside again, she glanced briefly at the pot, then stood by the fire and watched Tom approach the camp, leading two horses. He had taken off his heavy buffalo coat and laid it across the saddle. Clad in buckskins and high-laced moccasins, he looked more like a mountain man than when she had last seen him. When they said good-bye at the stream that day, he was still wearing army issue trousers and boots. He looked thinner than she remembered, and his face was covered with what looked to be a week’s growth of whiskers. Still, the sight of his tall figure striding through the camp was enough to quicken her heartbeat. She felt a strong desire to run to greet him, but she restrained herself. She had her pride, even though she had once cast it aside to offer herself to him. But having done it once, she would not permit her feelings to be openly displayed again. He knew how she felt. It was his place to make the next move, if there was to be a next move for them. She stood silently, her face expressionless, waiting for him to speak.

  “Hello, Ruby,” was all he said—a simple greeting, nothing more. He hoped she could not read the confusion in his eyes, for he couldn’t explain the emotions she caused. He truly did not know what his real feelings were for this girl. He felt clumsy in her presence, and while he was around her, he seemed always aware of how he stood and what his hands and feet were doing. No other human being had affected him this way. Did this mean he was in love with the girl? He honestly did not know. One thing for certain, she sure as hell bothered his mind.

  “Tom,” she returned simply.

  They stood looking at each other, both feeling the awkwardness of the moment, not knowing what to say. All at once, they both blushed and laughed nervously like two children caught in some mischief. Ruby was first to see the humor in the situation and regain her composure. “Well,” she said, “it seems like every time you show up, you’re about starved to death and I have to feed you.”

  He laughed. “I reckon that’s right. I seem to recollect I was pretty hungry when I showed up in Ruby’s Choice that first time.” He looked directly into her eyes. “It’s good to see you, Ruby.”

  She returned his gaze, unblinking. “It’s good to see you, too, Tom.”

  Just then, Jubal appeared from behind the tent. “I see you got your horses. If you want to, you can hobble ’em by the tent or you can turn ’em out with the rest of the horses.”

  “I reckon I’ll turn ’em out with the rest of the horses,” Tom replied. He added, “I wondered where you disappeared to.”

  Jubal grinned. “I thought I’d let you say hello to Ruby. I had to attend to some business out in the bushes. I was about to do it when them damn Injuns jumped us. My bowels was tied up in knots by the time you come along.”

  Ruby blushed. “I swear, Pa, everybody don’t want to hear about your business.”

  Tom laughed. “I’ll go take care of my horses.”

  * * *

  After they had eaten the meat and some panbread Ruby had mixed up, they sat in front of the fire and talked. Jubal wanted to know why Scarborough and Butcher had called him Dakota, so Tom explained the series of events that had brought about the alias. He had not purposely taken on the name, he explained. He had simply refrained from giving his real name. The owner of the stable in Miles City, Pop Turley, had christened him Dakota, so Tom let it go at that. Jubal told him the army had sent a special detail of soldiers to look for him in Ruby’s Choice, just as Tom had anticipated. He had been right to run, because the story the army had of the shooting in Jubal’s store was a long sight from the truth. And, Jubal added, the lieutenant in charge of the detail had no interest in hearing the real story either.

  “That sergeant was with ’em, too,” Jubal continued, glancing at his daughter when he said it.

  “Spanner?” Tom asked.

  “Yeah, Spanner. You shoulda seen that son of a bitch lying his no-good self outta assaultin’ Ruby. You’da thought it was the other way around, to hear him tell it. I started to get my shotgun and dust his sorry ass right there.” He snorted and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I would’ve, too, if he hadn’t had so many soldiers with him.”

  There was a swollen moment of silence before Tom spoke again. He picked up a half-burned stick and poked around in the ashes with it for a few moments before tossing it back in the flames. “I guess Dakota dusted Spanner for you. That’s the reason I had to leave Miles City.”

  “I know,” Jubal replied. “John Butcher told me you done him in.”

  “I didn’t have a whole lot of choice. He was aiming to kill me. If I’d had a choice, I would have run, but he jumped me in the stable, and there was no way out but through him.”

  “John told me about it when you went to fetch your horses. Him and Scarborough was in Miles City at the time. The way they told it, you damn near cut him in two with your rifle. Anyway, I reckon you know the army’s put a price on your head.”

  “I know.” He glanced quickly in Ruby’s direction, but she was staring into the fire, listening intently to their conversation. Tom wished he could know what she was thinking.

  Jubal studied his young friend’s face for a long moment, then said, “Tom, I don’t know if it’s bothering your mind any, but you don’t have to worry about any of these men trying to collect any rewards.” He paused a moment longer. “Fact is, don’t nobody but Scarborough and Butcher know you’re that Dakota feller, and they ain’t gonna say nuthin’ about it. These people we’re traveling with were heading west in a wagon train when a bunch of Sioux jumped ’em—burned their wagons and most of their belongings. They’re already scared half to death. It wouldn’t help none for them to know they got a wanted gunman campin’ with ’em.” He snorted and wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve once more. “Matter of fact, after the way you run them Injuns off today, they might want to make you captain of the train.”

  Tom didn’t say anything for a while. He sat there staring into the glowing coals, the realization of what had become his life having just been hammered home in the simple, innocent words of his friend. “Wanted gunman” was what Jubal called him. Of course he knew he was wanted. But “gunman”? Was that what he was? A gunman? When he thought about it, he could find no reason folks would think any differently. It was just that he had never thought of himself as anything but a man defending himself. No need to fret about it now,
he thought. “I appreciate it, Jubal. I guess most folks wouldn’t welcome a wanted man at their campfire.”

  “Hellfire, Tom. I know you ain’t no outlaw. I was there when you shot that there soldier in my store. I know you didn’t have no choice. ’Course I warn’t there when you got Spanner, but I know you done what you had to. Besides, that was one man that needed killin’.”

  They talked on until long after dark. Tom told them about his summer and fall running cattle and how he had almost become a partner with Eli Cruze. Ruby listened to the two men talk, only adding a word here and there, not really participating in the conversation, just listening. More than once during the course of the evening, Tom and Ruby’s glances found each other. He still did not know what to make of his feelings toward her. Her presence made him nervous, yet he did not want her to leave. Ruby, for her part, had made a decision. She loved him, of that she was certain, but she decided it was up to him to take the next step. Finally, Jubal announced that it was time to turn in.