Frontier America

by William W. Johnstone

  “About a treaty?” Preacher guessed.

  “That’s about the size of it,” Jamie admitted.

  Broken Pine looked at Preacher and asked, “What is this . . . treaty?”

  “An agreement,” the mountain man explained. “A promise that folks make to each other not to fight.”

  “The Crow do not wish to fight with anyone. Except the Blackfeet, of course.”

  Preacher had to chuckle at that. He understood the sentiment completely, having been at war with the Blackfeet for many years himself.

  While Preacher, Jamie, and Broken Pine were talking, the other Crow warriors had relaxed slightly. The continuing rifle fire from the soldiers kept the tension from going away entirely, though. Preacher said, “You reckon you can do anything about those varmints who keep shootin’ at us, Jamie?”

  “I can sure try.” Jamie looked at Broken Pine. “That is, if the fight’s really over for now.”

  Broken Pine nodded and said in Crow to the others, “Put away your arrows. We will talk instead of fight.”

  Several of the warriors didn’t look happy about that, but Broken Pine was chief and they obeyed his order. Jamie took off his hat, put it on the end of the Sharps’ barrel, and moved just below the top of the rise. He raised the hat on the rifle enough that the soldiers couldn’t help but see it, then waved it back and forth to make sure he had their attention.

  Then he shouted, “Hold your fire! Sergeant O’Connor! Corporal Mackey! Hold your fire! The fight’s over!”

  The shots had stopped already when Jamie raised his hat. They didn’t resume. After a minute or so, Jamie called to the soldiers, “I’m going to stand up now. Don’t shoot!”

  He got to his feet, took the hat off the rifle barrel, and put it on again. Then he waved his hand to reassure them that everything was all right and turned back to say, “Why don’t you come with me, Preacher, and we’ll go talk to them?”

  “I reckon I can do that,” Preacher said. He told Hawk, “Stay here.”

  “You trust this white man, Preacher?” asked Hawk.

  “I sure do. We’ve known each other a long time. Jamie, this is my son, Hawk That Soars. Hawk, meet Jamie Ian MacCallister. You’ve heard me talk about him before.”

  “Yes,” said Hawk. “Yes, I have.” He still didn’t seem too friendly, though, and he didn’t acknowledge the introduction other than giving Jamie a curt nod.

  “Your son, eh?” Jamie said as he and Preacher walked down the rise and started across the prairie.

  “That’s right. I’ve probably got more kids than that scattered around the frontier,” Preacher admitted, “but Hawk’s one that I know about for sure. You and Kate have young’uns, Jamie?”

  “A whole passel of ’em,” Jamie replied with a definite note of pride in his voice.

  “And Kate’s doing well?”

  “Still as beautiful and feisty as ever.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Preacher said. “You two always seemed like a mighty good couple, right from the first time I met you down yonder in what they call Indian Territory now.”

  They walked on for a few moments in silence, then Jamie said, “I’m sure sorry about shooting that fella.”

  “Swift Water,” Preacher supplied the name.

  “Swift Water. I hope he’s going to be all right. When it happened, I didn’t know who those warriors were, only that they were coming after us.”

  “Because you started shootin’ at them.”

  Jamie shook his head and said, “Not me. That was a fella named O’Connor. Sergeant Liam O’Connor.”

  “From the sound of your voice, you ain’t over fond of this varmint,” Preacher commented.

  “Not by a long shot,” Jamie said. “But I’d appreciate it, just on general principles, if you didn’t kill him.”

  “I’m ain’t promisin’ nothin’,” Preacher said.

  The soldiers stood up in the buffalo wallows as Preacher and Jamie came closer. Jamie led the way toward one of the circular depressions where a trooper was on his feet and another sat up on the ground. The soldier who was standing held a rifle, but it was pointed downward.

  “This is Corporal Mackey,” Jamie introduced the stocky soldier. “Fella sitting there with the wounded arm is Private Jenkins. Boys, this is an old friend of mine who goes by the name of Preacher.”

  The mountain man nodded and said, “Good to meet you, Corporal.” To Jenkins, he went on, “Son, I’m the one who put that graze on your arm. I’d say I’m sorry for doin’ that, but it looked like you and the rest of your bunch were tryin’ to hurt some friends of mine, so it seemed like the thing to do at the time. I’m glad I didn’t kill you, though.”

  “I . . . I’m glad you didn’t, too,” Private Jenkins said, clearly nervous.

  One of the men from the other buffalo wallow came out of it and stalked toward Preacher and Jamie, holding his rifle as if he were ready to raise it and fire at any moment. His face was flushed, his jaw thrust out defiantly.

  “I reckon that must be Sergeant O’Connor,” Preacher said. “I don’t even need to see the stripes on his sleeve to know that.”

  “That’s him,” Jamie confirmed. “He’s itching for a fight. He always is.”

  As O’Connor came closer, he yelled, “Hold it right there, mister!”

  “If you’re talking to me, I don’t appear to be goin’ anywhere,” drawled Preacher.

  O’Connor’s face reddened even more as he said, “You’re under arrest!”

  “What the hell for?”

  “Attempted murder of a United States Army dragoon and aidin’ those red savages!” O’Connor snapped the rifle to his shoulder and aimed at Preacher. “Drop those guns or I’ll blow a hole through you!”

  Preacher’s right hand itched to claw out the revolver on his hip and commence to work with it. He restrained himself only with an effort.

  Jamie must have felt the same way. He said, “O’Connor, you pull that trigger and you’ll be dead half a second later. I’ll put a bullet through your brain myself. There are plenty of witnesses here to testify that Preacher’s not doing anything threatening.”

  “Preacher?” blustered O’Connor. “What preacher?”

  “That’s what they call me,” the mountain man said. “I ain’t a real sky-pilot, though, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.” Preacher shook his head. “And I don’t cotton to bein’ put under arrest, so I don’t reckon I will be.”

  Coolly, he turned his back on O’Connor and spoke to Private Jenkins again.

  “Like I was sayin’, son, I’m glad you’re gonna be all right. Hope you’ll forgive me for nearly ventilatin’ you permanent-like.”

  Big-eyed, Jenkins gulped and said, “That . . . that’s all right, sir. I know it was just . . . uh . . . a misunderstanding, like you said.”

  “You see, Sergeant,” Jamie said, “there’s no hard feelings on Private Jenkins’ part. And since the Crow have forgiven me for wounding one of their warriors, it seems to me like we can just call the whole thing square.”

  Preacher wasn’t sure the Crow had exactly forgiven Jamie for shooting Swift Water—not all of them, anyway—but he wanted this situation settled down and so did Jamie. For one thing, the rest of the troop would be here soon, and Broken Pine and the other warriors wouldn’t stand much of a chance against them.

  Sergeant O’Connor continued glaring over the barrel of his rifle for several more seconds, but finally he lowered the weapon, with obvious reluctance, and said, “Somebody better tell me what the hell’s goin’ on here. Who are you, mister, and what are you doin’ with a bunch of red heathens?”

  “They’re my friends,” Preacher said, “and they ain’t heathens. They’re Crow. A fine, spiritual bunch of folks.”

  “And the Indians we’re looking for,” said Jamie. “In fact, their chief Broken Pine is in that bunch, and he’s the one we were sent specifically to find.”

  O’Connor looked a little confused as he said, “I thought that vill
age was supposed to be up in the foothills.”

  “It is. Preacher, Broken Pine, and the others are out here on the plains hunting . . . just like us.”

  Corporal Mackey said, “Somebody’s coming!”

  They all turned to look. Half a dozen men on horseback galloped toward them. All wore the white trousers, blue tunics, and black caps of army dragoons. One of the riders pulled out in front of the others.

  “That’s Lieutenant Tyler,” Jamie said. “I reckon they heard the shots, and Lieutenant Davidson sent him and a patrol to check them out, just like I expected.”

  The young officer leading the patrol brought his mount to a skidding, dust-raising stop and quickly dismounted. He looked around, frowning at the sight of the buckskin-clad stranger, and demanded, “Sergeant O’Connor, what’s going on here?”

  “We had a run-in with some damned savages—” O’Connor began.

  “Not exactly,” Jamie interrupted him. He waved a hand toward the rise, where Hawk, Broken Pine, and the other warriors were visible, standing with their bows in hand, ready for trouble if it broke out again. “The Indians are members of a Crow hunting party from Broken Pine’s village. Broken Pine himself is with them, Lieutenant. In other words . . . we found who we’re looking for.”

  “They attacked us,” O’Connor insisted with a surly look on his face.

  Preacher said, “You fired the first shot, mister. Don’t reckon any of the rest of it would’ve happened if you hadn’t done that.”

  O’Connor snarled and started to move toward Preacher. The officer, who Jamie had said was Lieutenant Tyler, lifted a hand to stop him and said sharply, “That’ll be enough, Sergeant. It appears there’s some sort of truce going on here, and I don’t see any reason to break it.”

  Jamie said, “Lieutenant, this is an old friend of mine. Folks call him Preacher. He’s part of the Crow hunting party. Preacher, this is Lieutenant Hayden Tyler.”

  Preacher’s eyes narrowed slightly as he asked, “Is this the lieutenant fella you were tellin’ me about?”

  “No, that’s Lieutenant Edgar Davidson. He’s the commanding officer of this little expedition.”

  “In that case . . .” Preacher extended his hand to Tyler. “Pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant.”

  Tyler coughed a little and shook Preacher’s hand.

  “How do you do, Mister . . . Preacher, was it?”

  “Just Preacher. No mister. That’s for fellas who ain’t spent their whole lives out here on the frontier.”

  “I see that Private Jenkins appears to be wounded,” Tyler said to Jamie. “Is it serious?”

  “Probably hurts like blazes, but he’ll be all right.”

  “That’s right, Lieutenant,” Jenkins put in. “It hurts like blazes.”

  “Any other casualties?” asked Tyler.

  Jamie shook his head and said, “One of the Crow was wounded, too. We’re hoping it’s not too bad.”

  “I hope so, too.” Tyler glanced back in the direction he and the dragoons had come from. “The wagons and the rest of the troop will be here soon. I suppose I should go meet this Chief Broken Pine, so I can introduce him to Lieutenant Davidson when they get here.”

  “Come on with me,” Preacher said. “You can leave your horse here. And it’d be better if just you and Jamie came with me to meet Broken Pine. Too many soldiers with rifles marchin’ at ’em might spook those fellas, and if that happened we’d have trouble all over again!”

  CHAPTER 20

  Jamie thought Lieutenant Tyler looked a little nervous as they approached the rise along with Preacher. That was understandable. Tyler had never dealt with the Indians, had never even seen any close up except the ones who had been killed during that battle with the Pawnee.

  Tyler didn’t flinch, though. He walked with Jamie on his right and Preacher on his left. Most of the Crow warriors displayed hostile expressions as the three white men came up the slope and stopped facing Broken Pine.

  Preacher said, “Broken Pine, this is Lieutenant Hayden Tyler of the United States Army. Lieutenant Tyler, Chief Broken Pine of the Crow people.”

  Tyler nodded and said, “Chief Broken Pine, it is an honor to meet you.” He glanced at Preacher as if waiting for the mountain man to translate what he had said.

  “I speak your tongue,” Broken Pine said. His face was impassive, as if carved from stone. “I need no one to tell me your words.”

  “Oh. Ah . . . Well, that’s good. We can talk to each other and understand.”

  “What I do not understand is why you attacked a peaceful hunting party that meant you no harm.”

  Preacher said, “It wasn’t the lieutenant who did that. It was another fella, a sergeant named O’Connor. I reckon he spotted you and the others and lost his head. He thought you were hostiles.”

  “Because all Indians look the same to white men,” Hawk said.

  “To some white men, maybe,” Jamie responded. “But I can tell you right now, Sergeant O’Connor and I don’t see eye to eye on much of anything.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Tyler, “the sergeant is under my command, and I apologize for what he did, Chief Broken Pine.”

  “I am not your chief,” Broken Pine said. “You do not have to call me that.”

  “Regardless, I’m sorry for what happened. Your man who was wounded . . . is he going to be all right?”

  “It seems so.”

  “I’m glad to hear that. The soldier who was wounded isn’t badly hurt, either.”

  Broken Pine just gazed coolly at the young officer, as if to indicate that he didn’t care what happened to Private Jenkins.

  Jamie was glad to see that Tyler was smart enough to just let that pass. Instead, Tyler went on, “My commanding officer and I have been sent here to speak with you, Broken Pine. I thought that we would have to visit your village in order to do so. Perhaps this meeting, as unfortunate as it was when it started, will prove to be a good thing after all.”

  “You come to ride into our village without being invited?” Broken Pine shot back at him. “That is the same thing as attacking it.”

  Jamie said, “We would have sent a small party and asked for permission to speak with you. Most of the soldiers would stay outside the village.”

  Maybe Lieutenant Davidson would have done that, and maybe he wouldn’t, Jamie thought even as he spoke those reassuring words. It was entirely possible that Davidson would have just bulled in with the whole troop and started a battle that would have wrecked the whole mission and gotten a bunch of them killed. With Davidson, it was hard to say.

  So in that respect, it actually was lucky that they had run into Broken Pine and the other Crow out here on the plains. They might not even have to go to the village in the foothills if they could persuade the chief to come with them back to Fort Kearny.

  Jamie went on, “Now you can speak with our commander . . . our chief ”—he tried not to grimace when he referred to Davidson that way—“here instead of having to wait until we arrive at the village.”

  Broken Pine immediately dashed that hope. He shook his head and said, “We will not talk here. Any important talk will be in the village, where all the elders and warriors can take part.”

  “I’m not sure that’s necessary—” Tyler began.

  “If Broken Pine says that’s the way it’ll be, then that’s the way it’ll be,” said Preacher. His tone made it clear there wouldn’t be any argument.

  “Of course,” Tyler said with a quick nod. “But at least, now we can travel to your village with you when you return.”

  Broken Pine frowned. Jamie sensed that he didn’t like the idea but didn’t have any reasonable way to refuse the suggestion. After a moment, Broken Pine nodded and said to Tyler, “The soldiers will stay back. You may ride with us, and this one.” He nodded toward Jamie.

  “I’m not sure how Lieutenant Davidson will feel about . . .” Tyler’s voice trailed off, then he nodded agreement, too. “It will be as you say, Broken Pine. But I will have
to talk to my commander first and make him understand.”

  Broken Pine turned away, saying over his shoulder, “Do as you wish. We still must hunt buffalo. The herd will not have gone too far before stopping to graze again.”

  Preacher said, “I’ll come with you, Broken Pine. Jamie, you’d best stay here and make sure everybody knows how things are gonna be.”

  Jamie regretted missing out on the buffalo hunt, but he knew Preacher was right. Lieutenant Tyler might need his help in dealing with Lieutenant Davidson.

  Because if there was a way of ruining what had turned out to be an improbably lucky encounter, Edgar Davidson could probably find it.

  * * *

  “Absolutely not! I refuse to allow some filthy red savage to dictate terms to me!”

  That was exactly the reaction Jamie expected when Lieutenant Davidson heard what Broken Pine had said. Davidson stood beside one of the wagons with his hands clasped behind his back, trembling slightly with what could only be outrage. His cap’s strap was tight under his chin, and his mouth was a grim line turned down at the corners in disapproval.

  “Lieutenant, I don’t reckon we have a lot of choice in the matter,” Jamie said. “Getting Broken Pine to agree to come back to the fort with us is crucial to this mission. We have to do things the way he wants.”

  “You have no authority here, MacCallister.”

  Tyler said, “I agree with Mr. MacCallister, Lieutenant. Things could have gone really badly today, but instead we have a chance to salvage the situation and even turn it to our advantage. We can’t press Broken Pine too much, though.”

  Jamie nodded and said, “He’ll get his back up and dig his heels in if we’re not careful. He’s used to giving the orders.”

  “So am I,” Davidson said. “And I’m an officer of the United States Army, not some dirty primitive.”

  Jamie shook his head and said, “You’ve got to stop thinking like that, Lieutenant. It’s not going to do any of us any good.”

  Davidson sniffed and turned his head to look at the other man who stood there beside the wagon with them.