~*~
Delaney had been gone for almost a month before Pepperdine’s request for leave came back approved. He packed his clothes carefully and watched as the driver stowed them in the back of the same wagon that had brought him out from the railroad in Wichita to Fort Proviso.
He went back to his quarters for one last look around to see if he had forgotten anything. Satisfied none of his property was in the small building, he stepped back into the sunlight where the driver and wagon waited for him. He was surprised to see Emma Norton with four black children.
“Good morning, Lieutenant Pepperdine. Leaving now?”
“Yes, Mrs. Norton. The army will send the acceptance of my resignation to my home in Boston. My furlough and commission will terminate simultaneously.”
“Before you leave, these children have something they’d like to give you,” Mrs. Norton said.
Pepperdine was surprised. “Really?”
The biggest girl, appearing to be around eight years old, stepped forward shyly. She curtsied and handed him an envelope.
Mrs. Norton smiled. “Open it up on your trip when you get a chance.”
Pepperdine stuck the envelope in his tunic. “I will. Goodbye, Mrs. Norton. It was nice knowing you.”
“Likewise, Lieutenant Pepperdine. Goodbye.”
He swung himself up into the wagon seat and nodded to the driver. The wagon lurched forward, then rolled slowly past officers’ row and out of the garrison area. As they reached the grassland to begin the trip across the prairie, K and L companies galloped by on mounted drill. The two companies had been combined until another officer could be transferred in to take over the L’s. Pepperdine watched Sergeant Wheatfall at the head of the column, the red and white guidon whipping on the staff just behind him. Soon they dropped into a draw and the guidons were the only sight left to be seen; the symbols of each company. Simple totems to the outsider, but deeply meaningful emblems of a way of life to men who called themselves Buffalo Soldiers.
~*~
The wagon was parked by the depot in Wichita. Pepperdine watched for the train as the Wagoner waited for the mail it would bring to take back to Fort Proviso. The lieutenant suddenly remembered the envelope the little girl had given him and he opened it. The handwriting was obviously that of a child, but was painfully neat and legible:
Dear Lieutenant Pepperdine,
We thank you kindly for saving our papa.
Yours most truly,
Elizabeth Jones
Abraham L. Jones
George W. Jones
Annabelle Jones
He carefully folded the letter and replaced it in his tunic. Two civilians were standing near him on the station platform. They treated him with quick, curious glances then went back to their conversation.
“Like I was saying” one continued speaking. “This area is getting damned well pacified now. Law and order is being established and it’s becoming safe to move in.”
“You’re right,” the other agreed. “Now is the logical time for those of us that have the money to get in on the opportunities afforded here. Especially before the idiots that broke their asses to settle in here get a chance to solidify their holdings.”
“That’s what I’ve been waiting for,” the first said. “I’ve always said let the other chap freeze, starve and do the fighting. I’ll hang back and move in when things are more civilized.”
“I made quite a bundle during the war by doing just that,” his companion added. “Also cornered a few warehouses of salt pork and made a fine profit selling it to the army. Hell, I’ll bet them soldier boys are still eating some of that lot.”
Pepperdine knew he was heading back to a life where that type of person was not only the norm but were on top of the heap, reaping in profits and enriching themselves while men like Ambrose Delaney drank themselves to death in dingy hotel rooms with nothing to show for their lives but memories, aching joints and scars from old wounds.
Pepperdine’s movements were almost instinctive as he jumped onto the platform. He retrieve his bags, throwing them back on the wagon.
The Waggoner was confused. “Did you forget something, suh?”
“Right,” Pepperdine answered. “I forgot I had to do a fine man a favor.”
The driver was confused. “Are you going back to Fort Proviso for a spell, suh?”
Pepperdine shook his head. “I’m going back to Fort Proviso for the rest of my career. Hell! I’ll probably end up being a fifty-seven year old captain.” He pulled a newly purchased cigar out of his pocket and lit it. “Before we roll out on the prairie, swing by the dry goods store here in town.”
“Yes, suh. Are you gonna buy another box of them cigars?”
“I sure am, trooper—that and a straw hat. The government issued headgear just isn’t that comfortable or useful in the field.”
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Glory's Guidons (The Long-Knives US Cavalry Western Book 3) Page 14
