Stone Hand

by Charles G. West

  She had no thoughts regarding marriage at the moment. There had been opportunities but none that provoked even a spark of serious consideration. Though it may have frightened most girls her age, she was not concerned by the thought of facing her twenty-first year without any prospects of marriage. Marriage would come, she was reasonably certain. But when it did, it would be of her choosing and not from fear of becoming a spinster. Besides, there was a desire on her part to taste at least a small sample of life outside the protected womb of the classroom and her mother’s house.

  Already her impulsive journey to Oklahoma Territory had provided adventure unimagined by her friends back East. Traveling alone with an army officer and three enlisted men would seem shocking to her girlfriends at school. Sarah saw nothing wrong with it. The three soldiers were distant and respectful and Captain Welch had behaved gallantly. The surgeon was obviously taken with her beauty and charm. Of that she had no doubt and she had to admit that she had a more than casual interest in the young surgeon. He did present a rather dashing figure in his captain’s uniform. But for now, she simply enjoyed his attention to her. She was not prospecting for romance.

  And then there was this strange creature who had appeared out of nowhere to save them from the savages, this Jason Coles. What was she to make of him? A wilder-looking man she could not imagine…little more than the wild Indians he had driven off, judging by his appearance. She couldn’t resist wondering what he would look like without the face full of whiskers and the worn buckskins. He was obviously younger than she had thought at first glance. She felt a strong desire to peel away the rough bark to see what was beneath. She knew one thing for certain, she felt a great deal safer with Jason Coles along.

  * * *

  By midafternoon of the following day, the rough structures of Camp Supply came into view. The little party made its way directly toward the rows of tents some distance apart. The headquarters tent was easily identified by its size and the flagpole in front.

  Sergeant Major Maxwell Kennedy emerged from the large tent, coffee cup in hand, and took a few steps in their direction as they approached. “Hello, Jason. I see you still ain’t lost your scalp yet.” He eyed the ambulance with open curiosity. “What have you got there?”

  “How ya doing, Max?” Jason turned to follow the sergeant major’s glance as Captain Welch helped Sarah Holder from the wagon. “A little surprise for Colonel Holder,” he said. “A pleasant surprise, I hope.”

  The sergeant major stood beside Jason, saying nothing more, waiting for the explanation that would account for the unexpected appearance of an attractive young lady in the midst of his raw military world. Maxwell Kennedy was a patient man who had lived the army life since he was a boy of eighteen. His was the patience that comes with twenty-four years of unexpected and unexplained events. He watched with some interest as Captain Welch graciously saw to the young lady’s comfort before concerning himself with reporting. Kennedy looked the young woman over, unabashed, obviously evaluating her qualities. Sarah, in return, stared back at him, favoring him with a warm smile.

  Satisfied that Sarah was safely dismounted from the ambulance, Captain Welch stepped up before the sergeant major. “Sergeant, I’m Captain Welch. I’m to report to Colonel Holder.”

  “Yessir,” Kennedy replied, unimpressed. He offered the captain a halfhearted salute, the coffee cup still in the hand he saluted with. “You’re the sawbones we were told we were getting. We didn’t expect you till next week.”

  “I know. I decided to come on earlier to escort Miss Holder.”

  This caused a spark of interest in the sergeant major, evidenced only by the slightest raising of one eyebrow. “Miss Holder? I thought she must have been your wife.”

  Sarah stepped forward. “I’m Sarah Holder, Colonel Holder’s daughter.” She extended her hand. “You must be Sergeant Major Kennedy. My father has mentioned you in his letters.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Kennedy’s weathered features relaxed into a broad grin. “Why, I’m right glad to meet you.” He transferred the coffee cup to his other hand and took her outstretched hand in his. “So you’re the colonel’s little girl. Well, I’ll be…Does the colonel know you’re coming? He ain’t said the first word to me about it.” He didn’t give her space to answer before adding, “How did you come to be traveling with a renegade like this?” He gestured toward Jason, his grin indicating that he was joking about the renegade label.

  Jason had been standing by during the introductions, mildly interested in the sergeant major’s reaction to his surprise visitor. He barely grunted in response to Kennedy’s jab. Sarah favored him with her generous smile.

  “Mr. Coles came to our rescue when we were attacked by savages. If it wasn’t for him, we might not be here.” Realizing at once that she might have injured John Welch’s pride, she quickly added, “Although I’m sure Captain Welch and his men would have been more than a match for the savages.”

  Kennedy shot a quick glance in Jason’s direction. Jason answered with a faint smile. Turning back to the captain, he said, “The colonel’s over at the agency. He’ll be back pretty soon.” His eyebrows raised a little. “I reckon he might want to talk to you about bringing his daughter out here without a proper escort.” He didn’t give the captain time to respond. “As for you, young lady, he might want to spank you for coming out here.” His smile told her that he was amused by her obvious spunk. “I’ll have you a place fixed up. It won’t be like you’re used to back east, but it’ll be out of the weather.” He turned to signal an orderly. “Johnson, take these folks over to the mess tent and tell Sergeant Ortiz to find ’em something to eat.”

  Jason stood silent while Kennedy issued orders to find accommodations for the new arrivals. When the others left to go to the mess tent, he spoke. “Max, what does the colonel want with me?”

  A wry smile creased the sergeant’s weathered features. “Now, Jason, you know the colonel gets a little testy when I talk about his plans. I’ll let him tell you.” The grin widened. “But, if I was you, I wouldn’t get too comfortable with garrison life.”

  “I never have been,” Jason replied. He knew Kennedy could have told him why he had been summoned. His curiosity was not so great that he would badger the sergeant to find out. From Kennedy’s brief comment, he could guess that he was going to be asked to go on a scout of some kind. But he had assumed that from the beginning. He hoped it wasn’t for a general troop campaign. He worked better alone. “I’m going to take care of my horse and then maybe see if I can get something to eat. I’ll see the colonel when he gets back.”

  A short time later he saw the colonel ride back into camp but he remained where he was, using his saddle as a backrest. The mess sergeant had rustled up some coffee and biscuits for him and he was in no hurry to finish his repast. Anyway, he figured Colonel Holder was going to be so damned irritated to find his daughter waiting for him that he wouldn’t want to talk business until he had a chance to simmer down. Jason smiled to himself when he thought about the lecture the young surgeon was bound to receive for bringing Sarah Holder through mostly hostile territory with no more protection than a doctor and three orderlies.

  It was almost dusk when Jason ambled into the headquarters tent. He nodded briefly to Kennedy. “You reckon the colonel is ready to see me now?”

  Kennedy grinned. “I reckon he is.” Without getting up from his desk, he called over his shoulder. “Colonel, sir, this no-good renegade scout is here to see you.” His grin expanded as the blanket that served as a divider parted and a tall, rawboned man plunged through.

  “Jason Coles! How the hell are you?”

  “Colonel,” Jason responded. He smiled and took the outstretched hand.

  “I knew you’d show up. Jim Riley said he thought you’d retired from Indian fighting. But I figured you’d show when you got my message.”

  Captain Jim Riley commanded a company of Pawnee scouts. Jason had ridden with him out of Fort Cobb the previous spring. “Well, I wa
s getting pretty tired of hunting and you went to a lot of fuss to find me so I figured I was curious enough to see what you had on your mind.”

  Colonel Holder beamed at the scout, genuinely pleased that he had responded to his call. “I understand I owe you a word of thanks already for seeing my daughter safely to the camp.”

  Jason shrugged. “I just happened along and we were all going to the same place so I came on in with them.”

  Colonel Holder expected the tall scout to downplay his part in the action. “Well, I appreciate the fact you just happened along.” His smile faded for a moment and his face reflected a fatherly concern. “That girl is bound and determined to get herself killed. She had no business at all coming out here. And that damn fool doctor doesn’t have any more brains than to…” Realizing he was berating a fellow officer in front of an enlisted man and a civilian, he broke off and collected himself immediately. “But enough of that. Did you get something to eat?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Good. All right, let’s get down to it then. Coles, I need your help. I’ve got a problem I can’t seem to solve with a regiment of cavalry.” He pulled a stool up under him and settled his lean frame. “For the past four years, ever since Custer’s Washita campaign, we’ve been chasing small bands of Cheyenne and Arapahos raiding parties. Most of the tribe has come in to the reservation but there are still a few renegades out there and they are raising a lot of hell on the settlers and stage lines.” He paused to offer Jason a cigar. After they both lit up, he continued. “Now, my boys are a pretty good bunch, all seasoned and tough as nails, and we’re gradually wiping out most of the hostiles. But, dammit, there is one red son of a bitch that has me buffaloed and that’s why I sent for you.” He glanced at Sergeant Major Kennedy before continuing as if for confirmation. “His name is Stone Hand and he’s a damn loner, even with his own people. But he raises more hell than all the rest of ’em put together, raiding, stealing, murdering. If I could get my hands on him, I’d hang him in the middle of the Cheyenne camp. Like I said, he’s a loner, always raids by himself. The trouble is, the rest of the damn Indians have come to think he’s something special, superhuman. Some of them are starting to think he can’t be killed, he’s some big medicine. I’ll say this for him. He’s one wily son of a bitch. We can’t even figure out where he is or where he’s gonna hit next because he’s just one man. He can go where he wants, when he wants.”

  “And you think I can catch him for you?” Jason interjected.

  Holder hesitated briefly. “Well, if you can’t, then I don’t reckon anybody can.” He studied Jason’s face intently, waiting for his response. Jason said nothing. “I figure one man who knew what he was about might be able to get on his trail and stick with it where a troop of cavalry couldn’t. What do you think?”

  Jason scratched his head while he thought it over. “Where did he hit last?”

  “Twelve miles from where we’re standing.” There was a strong hint of disgust in his tone. “Last Tuesday.”

  Jason smiled faintly. “He don’t show a whole lot of respect for you soldier boys, does he?”

  “The son of a bitch.” Holder snorted. “And, as long as he keeps getting away with it, he just gets bigger and bigger in the eyes of the young bucks on the reservation.”

  “I’m surprised none of the young ones haven’t jumped the reservation and joined up with him.”

  “Hell, they’re afraid of him, too. I tell you, Coles, there’s something basically evil about this one.”

  Jason stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Why does he hang around so close to the army if he doesn’t want to get caught?”

  “My scouts tell me that he has his own personal vendetta against the army. That son of a bitch is dedicated to one thing, killing as many white men as he can. He prefers killing soldiers. But anybody white will do in a pinch. I swear, I believe if he ran out of white men, he’d start killing Indians.”

  “You’re telling me that this man comes to the reservation whenever he feels like it? Why can’t you send a troop of cavalry into the reservation and take him?”

  “I wish it was that simple. The trouble is we don’t ever know when he’s there. He’s got his own people so damn scared of him that nobody will tell on him. He’s big medicine. And the son of a bitch uses disguises half the time, rides right by our patrols.”

  Jason glanced quickly at Kennedy then back to the colonel. “And you want me to catch him? This big medicine killer?”

  “Will you do it?”

  “Well, as long as the army wants to pay me for it, I reckon I can try.”

  “Good man. I knew I could count on you. We get rid of that bastard and it’ll make my job a lot easier around here. You’ll be saving a lot of lives to boot.”

  “Hold on, Colonel. I said I’d try to catch him. It don’t sound like it’s gonna be an easy job.”

  Holder’s face relaxed into a satisfied smile. “I feel a helluva lot more confident with you on the job. Let’s have a drink on it. Sergeant Major, break out that bottle in my trunk.”

  * * *

  Jason held the small shaving mirror up close to his face so he could evaluate the job he had just completed with his razor. He had let his beard get a little ragged during the last few weeks, having no incentive to keep it neat. It was time, he decided, to shave it off and start a new crop. He did not try to deceive himself by thinking the presence of Sarah Holder had nothing to do with it. She was a fine-looking woman and her arrival on the scene had caused him to feel some discomfort in his appearance. Although he harbored no illusions that there was even the faintest of sparks between them, he at least wanted to present his more civilized side.

  “Well, I’ve seen worse,” he decided and replaced the mirror in his saddle pack, along with the razor. He was invited to have the evening meal with Colonel Holder and his daughter. The doctor was also invited. Jason hoped his manners would be polished enough to dine with a young lady from back East. “That’s the best I can do.” He sighed and, after pulling his clean shirt over his head, he headed for the colonel’s tent.

  Jason was the last of the party to arrive. Colonel Holder turned to greet him as he entered the large tent. “Well, my God, I didn’t know who you were at first, Jason.” Jason blushed. “We were just having a little drink before supper. Can I pour you one?”

  “I reckon not, Colonel. Maybe later.” He grinned at Sarah Holder and added, “Miss Holder and I will stay sober so we can enjoy that hindquarter of deer I saw roasting on the spit out back.”

  Sarah returned his smile. She had been studying the transformation that had taken place. “I must agree with Daddy. I almost failed to recognize you, Mr. Coles.” Her remark caused Jason’s blush to deepen, a fact that Sarah did not fail to notice. It pleased her that her presence caused some awkwardness in a man noted for his cool demeanor. She took a moment to reevaluate her impression of the Indian scout whom her father had praised so highly. There was definitely something about him that sparked her interest and, while she was not willing to pronounce his face handsome, he was not unattractive when he was clean-shaven. Of the two men, the scout was no competition for the surgeon when it came to social niceties. Captain Welch was polished and well-spoken and obviously well schooled in social graces. And there was no denying the man was handsome, almost to a fault. When she compared the two, it brought to mind the contrast between a sleek, well-groomed polo pony and an untamed mustang. Still, she admitted, the mustang held a certain fascination for her. Her thoughts were interrupted by the steward’s announcement that the meat was ready to serve. Captain Welch was at her side instantly to offer his arm. She smiled graciously as she accepted it and he escorted her to the table outside under the tent flap. Jason and the colonel followed.

  During dinner, Sarah took charge of the conversation, charming her male companions with the effortless grace of a young woman who was very comfortable as the center of attention. Even her father’s complaining about her unannounced visit to this frontier w
as disarmed. Listening to the charming young woman’s rambling conversation as it skipped along over a field of trivial topics, like a butterfly in a spring meadow, Jason realized that Sarah was playing her part as the colonel’s daughter. He concluded that she was no more interested in what the ladies in Baltimore were wearing this season than he was. There was a gleam in her eye that told him she was performing for the men, being Daddy’s little girl. Jason glanced first at the doting Colonel Holder, then at a totally mesmerized Captain Welch. Welch in particular made no effort to hide his fascination for the handsome young woman. He hung on her every word, as if he were vitally concerned about the cotillion she was to miss because she had elected to come to visit her father. Once during the evening, her glance had held Jason’s gaze and there was a flicker of communication between them. She smiled, as if having been caught at playing a game and then, in an instant, darted off on another topic. Jason decided then that there was more to Sarah Holder than she exhibited for their amusement. Too bad she was going back East, he decided.

  “How long are you planning to be with us, Miss Holder?” Jason asked during a rare lull in the conversation.

  “I think about a week, maybe two.” She looked at her father for his reaction.

  “Oh, I hope it will be longer than a week,” John Welch blurted.