Frontier America

by William W. Johnstone

  Jamie stuck a thumb at O’Connor’s still senseless shape and said, “You’d better talk to him. He’s the one who wouldn’t let it go.”

  “But you were right in the thick of it with him.”

  “He didn’t give me any choice in the matter,” Jamie protested.

  The sutler waved a hand disgustedly and said, “O’Connor don’t have any money. Everybody knows that. He gambles and drinks it all away.”

  “Take it up with his commanding officer, then.”

  “That’s just what I intend to do.” The sutler looked past Jamie and went on, “Lieutenant Davidson, this big galoot bulled in here, started a fight, and caused all this damage, and now he won’t pay for it!”

  “That’s a blasted lie!” Jamie said. He turned to see who the sutler was talking to—

  And found himself looking down the barrel of a gun pointed at his face.

  CHAPTER 3

  The man holding the gun had a red sash tied around the waist of his blue jacket, and a white sash angled diagonally from his right shoulder to his left hip, where a scabbarded saber hung. The flap holster that had held the revolver rode high on his right hip.

  “Stand still there, you,” he ordered Jamie.

  “I’m not moving,” Jamie said. “You just be careful with that hogleg. Neither of us want it going off accidentally.”

  “I’ll have you know that I’m an expert when it comes to handling weapons and a crack shot,” the officer informed him. “If this gun goes off, it will be because I intend for it to do so.”

  The prissy accent was straight out of New England somewhere, Jamie thought. The man was in his mid-twenties, with curly, sand-colored hair under his black cap, and bushy side whiskers that dominated his slender face. His upper lip curled in what appeared to be a natural sneer.

  “You better arrest him, Lieutenant,” the sutler said. “Otherwise he’s liable to take off for the high country without payin’ me what he owes. Fellas like him are half-wild, not much better than red savages.”

  The bullwhacker who had been the first to congratulate Jamie scowled and rumbled, “This ain’t right. The big fella didn’t do nothin’ but defend hisself agin that bully of a sergeant. Liam O’Connor’s been ridin’ roughshod over ever’body at this post for months now, Lieutenant, and you can’t see it ’cause he’s always suckin’ up to you!”

  “That’ll be quite enough out of you, Fincher,” snapped the lieutenant. “I hardly need advice from a civilian, especially not from an unlettered lout such as yourself.”

  The bullwhacker’s hands clenched into fists. He took a step forward and said, “Nobody talks to me like that, you—”

  Jamie lifted a hand just a little to stop him.

  “You can take up your argument with the lieutenant later, friend,” he said. “Right now, I’d like to settle this little dispute.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ to dispute,” the sutler said. “I got a barrel of flour that’s ruined and a busted latch on the door. That’s . . . uh . . . five dollars’ worth of damage, I reckon.”

  “That’s more than a barrel of flour ought to cost,” said Jamie. “Nearly twice as much. And you can fix that latch without much trouble.”

  “Well, I ain’t even said nothin’ about the sugar that got spilled and all the cleanin’ up I’ll have to do! That’s worth somethin’, too, ain’t it?” The sutler nodded curtly and decisively. “Five dollars, that’s what I want to call it square.”

  “Oh, hell, it’s not worth the argument,” Jamie muttered. Although no one could tell it to look at him, his ranch in Colorado was quite lucrative and had made him a wealthy man, especially for this time and place. He dug in a pocket, came up with a five-dollar gold piece, and tossed the Liberty Head half eagle to the sutler, who caught it with ease despite having only one good eye.

  Jamie turned back to the lieutenant and went on, “There, I’ve settled the damages. Now put that gun away.”

  The officer didn’t lower the revolver. Instead, he said, “There’s still the matter of you assaulting a noncommissioned officer of the United States Army.”

  “For hell’s sake!” the bullwhacker called Fincher burst out. “Didn’t you hear me say that O’Connor jumped this fella, not the other way around?”

  “Brawling on an army post is against the regulations.”

  “I’m not a soldier,” Jamie said.

  “It doesn’t matter. By being on this post, you have placed yourself under the jurisdiction of the army, and as a duly commissioned officer of that army, I am within my rights to place you in custody, which I hereby—”

  “Lieutenant Davidson.” A new voice came sharply from the open door of the sutler’s store. “What’s going on here? I heard the commotion all the way at the other end of the parade ground.”

  The lieutenant finally lowered the revolver. He shoved it back into the holster, hastily closed the flap, and saluted as he came to attention.

  “Captain Croxton,” he said. “Begging your pardon, sir, but there’s no need for you to spend your valuable time pursuing this unfortunate matter. I’m handling it—”

  The captain returned the salute and said, “I’ll be the judge of how I should best spend my time, Lieutenant.”

  “Of course, sir. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise, just that the matter is under control—”

  “Son, any time you’re waving a gun around in the direction of Jamie Ian MacCallister, the matter definitely is not under control. In fact, I’d say you’re pretty close to all hell breaking loose.” A smile appeared on Captain Croxton’s ruddy face as he strode forward and extended his hand. “Jamie, I didn’t know you were anywhere around these parts, but it’s mighty good to see you again anyway.”

  Lieutenant Davidson stood there with his mouth hanging open as Jamie shook hands with the stockily built, clean-shaven officer and said, “Good to see you, too, Cap’n.”

  “You’re not here on business, are you?” asked Croxton, suddenly looking a little concerned. “Hunting for someone? Looking to settle a score?”

  Jamie laughed and shook his head.

  “Not hardly. I just had one of my spells where I wanted to get out and roam around for a while. You know how I get. And this is where the wind brought me.”

  “Well, I’m glad it did. Come on over to my office and have a drink with me.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  Davidson finally found his tongue again, saying, “Begging your pardon, Captain, am I to understand that you know this . . . this man?”

  “Indeed, I do,” Croxton replied. “He served as a scout for me in a campaign against the Pawnee last year, before you ever came out here, and he’s well known across the frontier.” The captain frowned and nodded toward O’Connor. “The sergeant should have come to by now. You’d better make sure he doesn’t require some medical attention.”

  Fincher said, “Hell, Cap’n, as hard as MacCallister hit him, O’Connor may not wake up until next week!”

  “Get him cleaned up, anyway,” Croxton went on, “and then have him thrown in the guardhouse overnight. He knows how I feel about brawling.” He turned away. “Come on, Jamie.”

  Lieutenant Davidson stood there, gaping, red-faced with barely suppressed anger, as Jamie and Captain Croxton left the store. Then Fincher jostled him with an elbow in the side, grinned, and said, “You didn’t know it was Jamie Ian MacCallister you were tryin’ to lord it over, did you, Lieutenant? He’s a cross betwixt a grizzl’ bear and a lobo wolf, and you’re lucky he didn’t chew you up and spit out the bones!”

  * * *

  “Sorry all I have are tin cups,” Captain Croxton said as he poured brandy for himself and Jamie. “This far west, the finer things of life haven’t really caught up to us yet.”

  Jamie took the cup the captain handed him, clinked it against Croxton’s, and sipped the brandy.

  “I’d say this brandy is pretty much one of the finer things,” he commented.

  Croxton smiled in pleasure at the comp
liment and said, “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion, and I’d say that you paying us a visit qualifies, Jamie.” He grew more serious as he went on, “I appreciate you not making that young lieutenant eat that gun he pointed at you, even though he probably had it coming.”

  “I thought about it,” Jamie admitted with a smile of his own, “but it didn’t hardly seem like it would be worth the trouble. Your Lieutenant Davidson seems to have a pretty high opinion of himself, doesn’t he?”

  “Edgar Davidson is an arrogant prig who’s not one-tenth as smart as he thinks he is,” snapped Croxton. “I really shouldn’t be talking about one of my junior officers that way, especially to a civilian. The worst part about it is that he was sent out here to be my second-in-command and eventually take over as the commanding officer of this post.”

  Jamie winced and asked, “He’s never been on the frontier before?”

  “No . . . but that doesn’t stop him from believing that he’s learned everything there is to know about it in the three months he’s been here.”

  Jamie shook his head slowly and said, “I’m sorry, Captain. You’re going to have your hands full with that one. He might make a decent officer someday . . . if he can manage not to get himself killed before then.”

  “I’m more worried about him getting some of my soldiers killed.” Croxton tossed back the rest of the brandy in his cup. “But that’s not a concern for today. I’m just glad to see you. How long do you plan to stay?”

  “Probably not more than a day or two. I just rode in to stock up on provisions. I ought to be heading back to Colorado before too much longer.”

  “Keep an eye on Tom Corcoran, the sutler,” Croxton advised. “He’ll overcharge you if you’re not careful, especially now that he has a grudge against you.”

  “I paid him what he asked for,” Jamie pointed out.

  “That won’t stop him from being resentful. He and Liam O’Connor are friends.”

  “O’Connor’s a regular troublemaker, isn’t he?”

  Croxton sighed and reached for the bottle of brandy, but he stopped himself before he poured another drink and replaced the cork instead with a stern look.

  “He’s an Irish noncom used to getting his own way and running things,” the captain said. “There are a lot like that in the army. Sometimes I think we couldn’t function without them. O’Connor’s more obnoxious and brutal than most, however. He has a few cronies who flock around him. Some of the men hate him. Most just try to steer clear of him as much as possible.”

  “And somehow he managed to get on Lieutenant Davidson’s good side.”

  “No mystery about it. He simply tells Davidson that he’s a brilliant officer. That’s all it takes.”

  Jamie finished his brandy and set the empty cup on Croxton’s desk.

  “I wish you the best of luck dealing with them, Captain,” he said. “And I’m mighty glad it’s not me who has to do it!”

  Croxton smiled and said, “There’s an empty officer’s cabin, if you’d like to use it tonight, Jamie. The War Department is supposed to send me another second lieutenant to go with the four I have, but they haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

  “Letting a civilian use officers’ housing is bound to be against the regulations.”

  “I’m the commanding officer here, so I decide how to allocate the fort’s resources.”

  “You said Davidson’s slated to take over this post eventually. He might decide to hurry things along by writing to the War Department and reporting any breaches of army protocol you might make. He struck me as the ambitious sort.”

  “Ambitious beyond anything his capabilities justify,” Croxton said. “But you let me worry about that, Jamie.”

  With a shrug of his broad shoulders, Jamie nodded. He shook hands with the captain again and asked, “Where’s that cabin you mentioned? I’m obliged to you for your hospitality.”

  * * *

  Jamie took his horse to the stable and turned it over to the grizzled old corporal working there. A mixture of army and civilian mounts were kept in the stable. As the old-timer explained, “There’s talk of a town startin’ up not far from here. In fact, a fella with a wagon full o’ whores showed up a while back and built hisself a soddy so’s he could put them doves to work and sell the Who-hit-John he brews up.” The hostler slapped his thigh and cackled with laughter. “Them’s always the first two signs of civilization, ain’t they? Whores and whiskey!”

  “I suppose if there gets to be a town, civilians will have to take their horses to a stable there,” Jamie said.

  “Yep. For now, though, the cap’n don’t mind folks keepin’ their mounts here, so long as they pay for the grain the critters eat.”

  Jamie took that hint and handed over a coin, then went to look for the cabin Croxton had told him he could use.

  The officers’ quarters at Fort Kearny were half a dozen small, single-room adobe structures lined up on one side of the parade ground. The cabin at the western end of the line was empty since only five lieutenants were currently assigned to the post: one first lieutenant, Edgar Davidson, and four second lieutenants.

  One of those second lieutenants was sitting on a three-legged stool in front of the cabin next door, cleaning a revolver. The parts were spread out on a cloth he had placed on a small table in front of him. He looked up and nodded as Jamie approached.

  “You’re the fellow who tangled with Sergeant O’Connor, aren’t you?” he said by way of greeting.

  “Guilty as charged,” Jamie replied, then chuckled. “Although I wasn’t actually charged with anything. Lieutenant Davidson would have liked to throw me in the guardhouse, though.”

  The young officer set down the revolver’s cylinder, wiped his hand on the cloth to get rid of the gun oil, and stood up to extend that hand to Jamie.

  “I’m Hayden Tyler,” he said.

  “Jamie Ian MacCallister.” Jamie gripped Tyler’s hand.

  “I’ve heard Captain Croxton speak of you, Mr. MacCallister, and others as well. You seem to be quite well known on the frontier.”

  “That’s not always a good thing,” Jamie said with a grin. “Usually not, if what a fella wants is peace and quiet.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Sometimes. But if I’m being honest . . . only sometimes.”

  Tyler laughed. He was a tall, well-built young man with close-cut dark hair and a neatly trimmed mustache.

  “I know what you mean. If life is too tame, it gets boring.”

  “Don’t reckon you’ll have to worry too much about that out here,” said Jamie. “Trouble’s bound to come along, probably sooner rather than later. How long have you been at Fort Kearny, Lieutenant?”

  “Three months.”

  “You were assigned here at the same time as Lieutenant Davidson?”

  “That’s right.” A trace of curtness in Tyler’s tone made Jamie wonder if the young man resented being outranked by Davidson.

  “Where are you from?”

  “My family is in Ohio. I had a hankering to see the West, though, and the army seemed like a good way to accomplish that. Plus it’s something of a tradition. My father was a colonel before he resigned his commission to go into business, and my older brother served in the Mexican War.”

  “Is that so?”

  Tyler nodded and said, “Yes, he was at Veracruz. He. . . didn’t make it back.”

  “I’m sorry, son,” Jamie said.

  “He knew the risks, and so do I. I’d like to think he would be proud of me for following in his footsteps . . . while encouraging me not to follow too closely.”

  Jamie felt an instinctive liking for this young officer. Hayden Tyler seemed to be level-headed and clear-eyed about what he was doing on the frontier, and the hint of self-deprecation in his manner told Jamie that he wasn’t full of himself like Edgar Davidson was.

  Leaning his head toward the next cabin, Jamie said, “I’m going to be your neighbor for the night, Lieutenant. Maybe I
’ll see you at this evening’s mess.”

  “Only for the night?” Tyler asked with a slight frown. “I thought that maybe you were going to—”

  “Going to what?” Jamie asked when Tyler stopped short.

  “Never mind, sir. I was about to speak out of turn. I need to finish cleaning this sidearm.”

  Jamie was curious, but he didn’t press the issue. He just nodded and went on to the cabin he’d be using.

  He couldn’t help wondering, though, if something more than was readily apparent was going on at Fort Kearny.

  CHAPTER 4

  The Crow village

  The eyes that gazed back at Preacher from Butterfly’s beautiful face were startlingly blue. She said, “It has been many moons since anyone has called me by my white name, Preacher. You are the only one who does.”

  “I can stop doin’ that if you want,” he told her.

  She shook her head and said, “No, it is good for me to remember that once I was white. My life is here, with Hawk That Soars and my children and the Crow, and it always will be, but that is part of who I am as well.”

  When Preacher and Hawk had first met Butterfly, having rescued her from the fur thieves who had taken her prisoner, they had had no reason to believe she was anything other than the young Crow maiden she appeared to be. However, it hadn’t been long before Preacher noticed her blue eyes and realized that she wasn’t what she seemed.

  Gradually, he had dug enough old, painful memories out of her brain to establish that she was the daughter of a minister and his wife who had come to the frontier, only to be attacked and killed by a war party from some unknown tribe.

  The girl named Caroline, a small child at the time, had wandered away from the scene of the massacre and been found by a band of Crow Indians. They had taken her in and raised her as one of them, until the day they were attacked by the Blackfeet and the young woman now known as Butterfly was taken away as a slave.

  Fate, in the persons of Preacher, Hawk, the old Absaroka called White Buffalo, and two young trappers, Aaron Buckley and Charlie Todd, eventually had freed her and brought her to this satisfying life with Hawk and a different band of Crow. But as she said, everything she had been in the past had gone into making her the person she was now, and she didn’t want to turn her back on any of it.