by John Foxjohn
Just outside of town, he found a place with good grass and hobbled his packhorses, and ground hitched Big Red. Riding down the one street in town would draw attention. After dusting himself off and telling Sunka to stay, he hurried to the dry goods store, his insides aflutter. His stomach balled in knots as usual with anticipation of seeing Abbey.
Stopping inside the door, he let his eyes adjust. He sucked in a deep breath of leather, spices, and other smells. As his vision adjusted, he spotted Abbey’s father talking to an older woman he’d seen before, but he didn’t know her name. A dam of disappointment broke inside Andy.
Nevertheless, he strode forward. In a contemptuous voice, Abbey’s father demanded, “What do you want, Johansson?”
Before Andy could say anything, the old lady shook a bony finger at him. “You should leave this town and never come back. We don’t want your kind here.”
Andy’s fists clenched and unclenched. His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse throbbing in his temples. He’d done nothing to these people. He’d given them no reason to treat him this way. But it wouldn’t be long and they couldn’t hurt him any longer, or that was what he thought until Abbey’s father spoke.
“Abbey has told me to tell you, Johansson, she wants nothing to do with you. You are no longer welcome in our home. You come back, I’ll have the sheriff after you.”
As Andy’s insides cracked wide open, his exterior hardened to steel. He slid a large list that Cap had made out for him across the counter. “Can I buy supplies here?”
The old woman let out a disgusted breath, spun around, and her heels clicked on the wood floor as she hurried out.
Without looking at the list, Martin said, “I don’t give credit. You either pay or you get nothing.”
“You give others credit,” Andy said, “But I do not want it. I have money.”
“We’ll discuss the supplies when I see the money. I don’t trust you as far as I could spit.”
With satisfaction burrowing inside him like a weasel, Andy extracted a leather pouch and poured several gold rocks the size of his thumb on the counter. He laughed inside as the storekeeper’s eyes bugged out.
“Boy, where did you get these?” Martin asked in a hushed voice.
Andy leaned close like he was about to convey a great secret. “That is none of your …business. Are you going to fill the…order or not?”
As darkness fell, Andy, on Big Red, led the packhorses out of town. Before he left, he had one stop to make. He tied the horses beside the stable corral, took an antelope hindquarter off the horse, and eased toward the back door.
Before he was close, a voice he recognized asked, “That yo’ Andy?”
“I have something for you, Elijah.”
The black man stepped from the shadows and Andy handed him the meat.
A small scraping noise came from above, and Andy glanced up. He couldn’t see anyone in the darkness but had a good idea who was in the barn loft. With his head, he indicated the direction. “The boys up there?”
“Yes, suh,” showed up yesterday.”
The boys were two half-breed orphans. The oldest was about fifteen and the youngest twelve. Elijah let them sneak into the loft and sleep, and gave them food when he had it. Andy waved at them.
“Yo’ leaving?” Elijah asked.
He told him about the ranch. When he’d finished said, “Elijah, I will need help. You have a home with me if you want it. I will pay you the same as I pay anyone.”
Elijah nodded as if he knew that but said, “Yo’ speak better, now.” He shrugged. “I ain’t got no future here, that’s fo’ sure. But I can’t leave right now. The boss ain’t here. The animals need caring for.”
“Okay, it is up to you. If you want, when he gets back. I need you.” Andy gave him careful directions on how to get to the ranch location.
“Andy, are yo’ taking Missus Abbey with yo’?”
The sword of regret pierced all the way through Andy. His heart ached and tears rolled down his cheeks. He knew he didn’t have a chance, but at least he’d had a hope. Abbey’s father had sliced all of it out of him.
His voice trembled. “She told her…father to tell me she never…wanted to see me again.”
When Elijah didn’t say anything for a long time, Andy turned to leave, but the black man reached out and caught his arm. “Andy, that ain’t right. No way Missus Abbey told him that.”
Andy stopped. “Why would he lie, Elijah?”
“Don’t know, but he is. I’m yo’ friend and I’m telling yo.”
Lloyd Stephens waited behind his desk, leaned back, a glass of trade whiskey in his hand. He brought the glass up, inhaled the kerosene odor, smiled, and held it to the light. Satisfied, he gulped half of it down. His face twisted one way then another as the liquid fire exploded in him.
He was still gasping for air moments later, when expected boot steps eased their way up his back stairs. Then the knock on the door, something few people bothered with, and if he hadn’t known who was coming, that would have been a dead giveaway.
“Come in,” he yelled.
The door opened and William Martin eased in. He shut the door, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and shuffled to Stephen’s desk as if he was about to be hung. His apple’s apple bobbed up and down, waiting for Stephens to speak.
Stephens held up the glass. “You want some trade whiskey?” he asked, trying to keep contempt out of his voice. The man in front of him disgusted him.
Martin shook his head, his eyes large, staring at the whiskey in the glass. His eyes grew even larger when Stephens downed the rest of the whiskey in the glass.
When Stephens slapped the glass on the desk, said, “I heard you had that little conversation with Johansson like we agreed.”
Abbey’s father grimaced, and swallowed hard. “I did, but I hate to lie. If Abbey ever found out she’d never speak to me again.”
“Possibly, but you can’t stand around and watch her marry that filthy savage,” Stephens shrugged. “She’s not thinking clearly.”
Martin nodded. “That’s the only reason I did it. He is a godless savage.”
Stephens reached over, picked up the bottle of whiskey, and poured three fingers of the liquid into the glass. “Sure you don’t want some. It’ll flush the toxins out.”
When Martin again shook, and said, “You’ll keep your bargain like we agreed.”
“Of course. In a year, the railroad will be coming around looking for right-of-way land. You being a partner in the land company will share in those profits. Also, you’ll get the contract to supply them.” Stephens pointed his glass at Martin. “If we all play this right, we could end up wealthy.”
Martin nodded. “That’s what I want. Don’t want Abbey living in some shack with a no account Indian.”
Stephens almost laughed out loud. Martin would never live to see any money, and the store would be his when the time came. He put on his best concerned expression. “That’s what I want, too. What’s best for Abbey.”
The man downed the whiskey, wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand. When he was again under control, he said, “Now tell me about this gold Johansson paid you with. Where’d he get it?”
“He wouldn’t tell me after all I have done for him. I’ll tell you this, though, the gold he had was rough. He’s found the lode to it, wherever that is.”
Leaning back in his seat, Stephens crossed his arms. “Okay, leave that up to me. Just remember, keep all this under your hat and we’ll come out smelling good. Rich, too.”
After Martin closed the door and his steps echoed down the stairs, the inner door to Stephens’office opened and Perkins stepped in. “You hear that?” Stephens asked.
“Yeah, that’s about what we figured. “I’ll tell you something. Johansson had a lot more gold than what he showed at the store. That horse of his was carrying a lot of weight.”
Stephens rapped his knuckles on the desk. “Then get your people and bring me that gold.”
> “What about Johansson?”
“If you make another mistake and don’t kill him, just put your gun to your head and blow your brains out. Save me the trouble.”
Chapter Sixteen
Andy, with a heavy heart, sat Big Red in the dark beside the stable. The air held odors of hay and horse manure overlaid by the aromas of cooking food. He tied the lead rope for the four packhorses to his pommel and glanced down at Sunka, who sat waiting.
From the moment he was born, his life had become a complicated journey. Most people’s journeys were marked by their decisions—good ones or bad ones, and as hard as it was to admit, he had some influence on where he’d traveled. Yet, others had chosen most of the forks he’d taken in his journey.
It wasn’t his decision to take a wagon train to the Montana goldfields. It wasn’t his decision to take the short dangerous route rather than the longer, safer one. His only option to living with the Lakota was to die, and he’d been too young for anyone to involve him in the decisions, or to make that one. He’d wanted to live.
Once Abbey got him out of the soldiers’ jail, the soldiers didn’t give him a choice: they cut his hair, took his clothes and gave him white clothes and told him to wear them. They turned him out and told him he was white, to act like it, and again, he had no choice.
That’s when his decisions, the ones he was accountable for, came into play. It was his decision to stay in Heath even though most of the town’s people loathed him, didn’t want him there, and wanted to kill him. Now, sitting in the dark, leaving for the last time, he didn’t think that had been one of his better decisions.
Andy swallowed hard. Falling in love with Abbey had been his biggest mistake.
He sucked in a trembling breath and heeled Big Red forward, but despite himself, turned to look back. He knew what he was looking for, but didn’t want to think about it.
It was time to stop feeling sorry for himself. Never in his short life had he had a destination to work toward, something to be, and something to build. He had that now. It wouldn’t be easy, and he had a feeling Cap was right about people wanting to take it away from him, but that journey he’d taken to get to this point had prepared him for it. Maybe there was a reason someone else had guided those decisions.
If he hurried, it would take him three days to get to the Windsong area. Of course, with the danger of Indians and whites, if he hurried, he might never get there. The whites had defeated the Indians; put them on reservations like animals in pens. For all that, many of the Indians, especially the younger ones, didn’t get the word that they were defeated.
Out of Heath, he took the horses across the open prairie using the big star to guide him north. It would be safer to take the washouts as he’d done many times, but then he only had Big Red to think of. The big horse would have no problem with the rough travel, especially at night, but he didn’t trust the packhorses. And he needed every one of them.
Hiding his tracks at this point wasn’t his first priority. He was good, but concealing the trail of five horses, four of them led and weighed down, would be impossible, and trying would take more time than he wanted to spend.
If they wanted him, they would find him. Besides, he’d filed one of those claims for the free land. They would know exactly where he intended to go. In the meantime, he had a ranch to build. Since he’d never seen a working cattle ranch, he didn’t have a clue what to build, but had spent hours talking to Cap about it.
Of course, all that depended on whether Cap came back with cattle, or came back at all. Andy had considered that. He felt he could trust the man, but he had nothing to base that on. The gold was obviously valuable, but he didn’t understand it. Maybe if he did understand it he might be more suspicious of Cap, but he didn’t think so. He’d considered what would happen if Cap took the gold and ran. It would be a setback—no doubt. Nonetheless, it would not devastate his plans because he knew something no one else did—where there was more gold.
Two hours later, he stopped to rest the horses. He dismounted and let them graze.
He squatted beside Sunka, who nuzzled against him and licked his hand when he petted him. “What do you think, boy? Are we going to make it without trouble?”
The dog and Big Red would help keep him out of trouble. Most of the time, the dog ran ahead of them as if he was acting as the forward scout. He would alert Andy to trouble before it happened. And if he didn’t, Big Red would. For that reason, he could push ahead without worrying about an ambush.
After fifteen minutes, Andy remounted and again continued the journey to his future. The uneventful trip took him three days.
Finally, when he stopped the horses by Owl Creek, he listened. Moments later he released a sigh as the wind played its song. He reached forward and patted Big Red on the neck. “Listen, boy. Hear the music? That means we’re home.”
As if he understood, Big Red blew out a breath and shook his head. At that moment, Sunka decided to join them. Andy hadn’t known where the dog had been, but from the tufts of rabbit fur stuck to his mouth, he must have decided to eat.
Andy dismounted and let the horses drink, then led them through the trees to the large mesa. He’d decided many years ago that if he lived here, he would live on this flat top. Besides the obvious beauty, the place would be hard to find. Another advantage was the steep slopes leading down from three sides to the bench that offered perfect shelter from the cold winds.
Plus, he could easily defend it with only a few people.
Looking around, he smiled. He was home, a feeling he liked, but at the same time, he figured he was going to need to plan well before he began building. He’d thought about the building of the main house a lot. He wanted comfort as well as practicality. From the creek side of the bench, a gentle slope dropped to the creek. Several yards back from the creek, Andy decided to build the house.
Worm’s words from his youth played in his head. “The lodge entrance always faces east so the Great Spirit can shine the life-giving energy in our faces when we wake.” He would honor his father in this way. The front door would face east. But unlike the tepee he’d grown up in, Andy would build the main house two stories high.
Ego had played no part in his conclusion, but the practicality part of his plan. With a two-story house, a small group of people with rifles in the upstairs windows could hold off a small army.
He chuckled remembering his brother. The People had camped in the valley of Greasy Grass. That summer there were more lodges than any of the old people had ever seen. The camp stretched along the creek for several of the white man’s miles. But Crazy Horse had insisted they scout their own camp as the whites would do in case of attack. Many of the warriors laughed at this. They said that the soldiers didn’t have anyone stupid enough to attack a camp that size.
Still, Crazy Horse prepared for a battle that even Andy thought was a little foolish and wasn’t going to happen.
Then the soldiers actually attacked. The soldiers’ plan, hit one end, get everyone to rush that way to fight, and then assault them with the main body on the flank or rear.
As far as plans go, it was a good one, except Crazy Horse led the warriors in that camp. When the fight began, because of his preparations for a battle no one thought would ever happen, Crazy Horse swept through, gathering warriors, heading away from where the initial fighting began. He did this because he knew there were only two ways for the soldiers to get into camp.
He sent Gall with a bunch of warriors up one of the routes to slow the soldiers down.
Crazy Horse took the main body up the other route. He hit the soldiers who were engaged with Gall from the rear. The battle lasted less than fifteen minutes.
That happened because Crazy Horse was prepared. Andy may never need to fight off a small army, but if he did, he’d rather be ready.
But before he fought armies, he first had to do something about the horses. Leaving Big Red, he rode one of the packhorses and led another into the woods carrying an axe and his too
ls. He’d helped people build houses and barns in and around Heath to make money to live on. Now the knowledge he’d learned would help him.
He stripped off his shirt and found a tree to cut. His shoulder and side still hurt, but he was used to pain.
The axe flashed in the sunlight followed by the crack of metal striking wood. A huge chip flew up as pain radiated in his shoulder, but more so in his side. Andy gritted his teeth and continued.
When he’d cut four trees, he used the axe to trim them to the size he needed, and to cut off the branches. Then, using rope, he tied the trees together to form a rectangle. He split the trees left over into two pieces. Each piece was flat on one side and rounded on the other.
Using nails and a hammer he’d purchased from the dry goods store, he nailed one of the split logs to one side of the log rectangle. He made sure the curved end would face down. After he had it attached, he nailed the other split log the same way, but on the other side. In effect, the two split logs would act as runners for the stone boat, a sled used to carry stones or trees.
Two hours later, bathed in sweat and pain, he’d loaded enough logs on the stone boat to make a start on a corral for the horses. He walked beside the two horses, guiding them as they pulled the load of logs to where he wanted to build the corral.
Once he unloaded the stone boat, he changed the horses out and took the other two back for another trip. He worked through the day this way. His first trip was enough to make a corral for his four packhorses, but he had plans for more than just four horses.
The Nez Percé (nay-per-SAY) used a magnificent spotted horse as warhorses. He would bet if he mixed one of those spotted horses the whites called an appaloosa, to Big Red, he’d come out with a horse like no one had ever seen before. If he could get a breed of horses going like that, people would eventually come from all over to buy his horses.
Before darkness dropped on him, he’d cut a bunch of the logs into three-foot sections. He cut a notch in each log and put them together in an x-shape. A log four feet long sat in the two X-braces making one section of the corral.
