“Mr. Peters wanted to see the gold, but Mr. Carver said he didn’t have it all with him. He had twenty thousand dollars’ worth in the saddlebags, and promised to bring the rest in Wednesday, if they could make a deal.” That would explain all the guns. “Mr. Peters only thought about it for a few minutes before he had me draw up the papers. I prepared the deed, but didn’t give it to them. They’ll get it when they deliver the gold.
“After that, they took the twenty thousand dollars to the bank for safekeeping,” he continued. “Mr. Peters said he was going to talk to the sheriff about putting guards on the bank until they can arrange to take the gold to St. Louis.”
“Where do you think they got that much gold?” someone asked, and someone else wondered aloud where the rest of it might be.
“I think he struck it rich in the California Gold Rush, although he didn’t say, rightly,” Bob answered. “And I wouldn’t think too much about his gold if I were you. Mr. Carver looks like a tough hombre who has seen some serious fighting.”
Jake ordered another drink and headed back out to the porch while talk of gold swirled inside. Presently, Mr. Peters and the man called Carver left the bank and crossed back over to the Land Office. They shook hands and Mr. Peters watched as the man and his daughter remounted their horses. The small caravan headed down the street. They stopped at Mrs. Fielding’s Boarding House, dismounted, and entered the establishment.
A short while later Mr. Carver came outside, removed the saddlebags from Miss Carver’s horse and brought them inside, then returned with Mrs. Fielding’s stable boy. Together they gathered up the horses, mules, dogs and the cow and went around to the barn at the rear of the building.
For about thirty minutes nothing further happened, then there was a sudden commotion at the door of the boarding house. Three couples and two single men, all carrying traveling bags, hurriedly left the house and headed up the street towards another boarding house. Mr. Carver and his daughter must have rented the entire establishment. He must have paid well to get Mrs. Fielding to kick out her boarders, and probably paid the boarders off as well, judging by the lack of grumbling from the folks headed up the street. Guess that second set of saddlebags is filled with gold as well. But why would anyone need an entire fourteen room boarding house?
* * *
Early that evening, as Jake ate supper by himself at a table in the saloon, Mr. Carver entered through the swinging doors. Rather than make his way to the bar, Carver headed straight for Jake’s table.
“Would you be Jake Carlton?” he asked. “May I have a word with you?”
“Yes I am, and yes you may. Please have a seat, sir.”
By the time Jake settled into his new room at Mrs. Fielding’s Boarding House, he had agreed to become Dwight Carver’s construction boss at a salary twice what he’d made at his last steady job. Jake had come out west to seek new adventures, and there was no better way to do so than to continue on deep into the Nebraska Territory.
Very early the following morning, Dwight and Jake headed east out of town, making very sure they weren’t being followed. In addition to the horses they rode, they brought four mules – the two the Carver’s had brought with them into town and two more that Jake had rented the previous evening. About thirty minutes out of town, Dwight led them off the road onto an obscure trail. A mile up the trail Dwight indicated a stop and they dismounted. Dwight pulled one of those short muskets from its scabbard and carried it over to Jake.
“I’d like you to meet my special friend,” he said with an odd accent and a funny grin. Jake just stared at him. “Nevah mind,” Dwight continued. “That’s from a play about a gangstah called Scarface that you wouldn’t know. Anyway, this is the Heckler and Koch M416 assault rifle, one of the finest individual weapons ever invented. It’s a 5.56 millimeter, fully-automatic, rotating bolt, gas-piston-operated, fully-rifled, assault weapon.”
Jake nodded. The weapon was indeed similar to the Uzi his mother had taught him to use.
Two hours later Jake was fully qualified on the H&K M416, and its big brother, the H&K M21 7.62mm infantry automatic rifle, at least in the base configurations. Dwight told him that training on attachments like under-barrel grenade launchers would come later.
“We sure could have used these during the Indian raids,” Jake said, after reassembling the M416 for the third time.
“Their time will come. Now we have work to do. Mount up.”
Another mile up the trail, Dwight led them off into a dense patch of forest. He pulled two shovels off the back of one of the mules.
“Time ta dig.” He handed one to Jake, indicating a patch of ground beneath a large, spreading pine tree. Judging by the low difficulty of the dig, the gold had not been buried here long. Eventually they dug up eight packs, each weighing about one hundred and twenty-five pounds. They loaded two onto each mule and mounted up themselves. Rather than returning the way they came, Dwight led them on a roundabout route that approached the town from the northwest. Dwight certainly knew his way around well for someone who had just come into town. Jake let that thought drop and concentrated on their surroundings, cradling the M416 in his arms as he rode.
Jake wondered about the origin of the weapon. Dwight had said it was made by Heckler and Koch, which sounded German, like his mother. Perhaps his father’s Uzi had come from the same place, although Uzi didn’t sound German. There was, of course, another possibility.
Jake didn’t know why his mother both hated and feared the Republic of Indian Stream, but she did. Of course, her laudanum addiction could have something to do with it. He wasn’t going to forsake Dwight’s employment offer because of his mother’s fears. Nothing he’d ever read about the Republic gave him cause for concern, but he’d keep a sharp eye out nonetheless.
Dwight reined in his horse, bringing the little caravan to a halt. He held his hand up over his left ear and appeared to be listening to something. Jake would’ve sworn he heard a voice coming from inside Dwight’s head. But that was ridiculous.
After a minute, Dwight undid one of the saddlebags and removed a device that looked like two spyglasses hooked together. He held it up to his eyes, looking off to the east.
“What’s going on?” Jake asked.
“I think we may have company. Have a look.” Dwight pointed to the east. “See that outcrop about four hundred meters down the trail? There’s four dismounted men hiding there.”
“What’s a meter?” Jake gingerly took the instrument from Dwight.
“A little more than a yard. Thirty-nine inches to be exact, and these are called binoculars.”
When he looked through the binoculars Jake was stunned by the clarity of the image. In addition to the fine detail, the image had a sense of depth, which he’d never seen in a spyglass.
It took him a moment to locate the outcrop Dwight had indicated, but once he found it, he immediately saw a man with a rifle laying between two large rocks. How in hell had Dwight seen him without the binoculars?
“Okay, I see them. What do you want to do?”
“Let’s see if we can’t flush them out. When we get about three hundred meters from the outcrop, we’ll stop and dismount. I’ll use the grenade launchah on my M416 to start bracketing their position with fire. You use the M21 to fire into the rocks around them, but try not to hit any of them, just in case they aren’t highwaymen.”
Jake didn’t like the idea that they were riding closer to the trap, but unless the men had an exceptional marksmen among them, they’d be well out of range of the highwaymen’s muskets when they stopped. They started back down the trail towards the outcrop.
Dwight halted the caravan once more, and they both dismounted. Jake took up a good prone firing position and sighted in on a big boulder in the middle of the outcrop.
“Remember, six to eight round bursts,” Dwight said as he took up a kneeling firing position. “Fire on my command.”
Jake watched as Dwight’s first round arced toward his intended target, fifty me
ters in front of the outcrop. It exploded like a naval artillery shell. Twenty seconds later a second round exploded fifty meters beyond the outcrop, and then rounds exploded fifty meters on either side of the outcrop, which should have left no doubt in the ambushers’ minds that he could hit the outcrop if he wished.
“Fire,” Dwight commanded, and Jake opened fire. His first burst fell a little short of the big boulder, so he adjusted his aim and fired again. And then again.
“Cease fire,” Dwight said. “I think they’ve had enough.” The four men were galloping away from the outcrop, headed north.
“That’s quite a weapon you’ve got there,” Jake said.
“Yeah, I fell in love with it the first time I fired it.”
“Where was that?” Jake asked.
“A long time ago, in a place far, far away,” Dwight replied, without further elaboration.
They arrived at the bank about mid-afternoon without further incident. Dwight stood guard while Jake hauled the packs one at a time into the bank, and then followed Jake in with the last bag. Thirty minutes later they were back at the boarding house, deed in hand.
“Now we need to get started hiring ranch hands,” Dwight announced. “I’ve written out an organization chart, a set of job descriptions, and a list of required skills for each position. We’ll start conducting interviews here in the lobby tomorrow morning. If you could start spreading the word around town this afternoon, we should have plenty of applicants. Plenty of men and women looking for work around here.”
“We’re hiring men and women?” Jake asked.
“Of course,” Dwight replied. “I don’t want Jennifer to be the only woman on the ranch.”
A week later Dwight and Jake had hired thirteen men and two women. All of them were living in the boarding house. The hardest to recruit had been the river pilots, but they’d eventually hired six men off of a visiting riverboat. The captain had not been pleased, but Dwight was paying top dollar, and everyone rightly believed he had the gold to back up his job offers. There were still twenty-five open spots on Dwight’s organization chart.
There was only one incident of note during the week. Jake would remember it for the rest of his life. He and Dwight were getting drinks at the saloon following a long day of interviews when a loud argument broke out on the street. Jake couldn’t see what was happening, but he clearly heard Jennifer Carver say, “Next time, pick on someone your own size,” followed by applause from the small crowd that had gathered in the street. A few minutes later Jennifer came in and joined Dwight and Jake at their table.
“What was that all about?” Jake asked.
“Guy beating on a kid,” Jennifer replied, “I sort of knocked him face first into the muck.”
“This probably isn’t gonna end well,” Dwight observed. As if confirming Dwight’s prediction, a man covered in mud came in. He wore a pistol on his belt. Dwight unsnapped the holster strap for his Taser. The man headed straight for their table, and Jennifer rose to meet him. Jake started to rise as well, but Dwight held out a restraining hand.
“This will be instructive.”
The man went straight for Jennifer, who laid him out hard on his back. Jennifer had used a judo technique similar to what his mother had taught him and his brother Paul many years ago, but her movements were much more fluid and powerful. As the man tumbled to the floor, his gun fell out of his belt and skidded across to their table. Dwight picked it up and held it in his lap. The man jumped back up and made another run at Jennifer with a similar result. Jake heard something snap when the man went down the second time. Clearly, Jennifer had practiced a lot.
The man lurched to his feet once again, cradling his left arm. This time, instead of going for Jennifer, he tried to pull a pistol from the holster of one of the bystanders. Dwight reacted faster, and two Taser darts flashed across the room, striking the man in the chest. He collapsed in a heap of spasms just as the local sheriff arrived.
Dwight released the trigger and man’s convulsions subsided.
“He’ll be okay in an hour or so,” Dwight informed the sheriff. Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw Jennifer return a small pistol to a hidden pocket in her dress. Dwight just saved that man’s life.
“Well, that’s a mighty handy little weapon,” the sheriff observed.
“I’ll tell you what, sheriff, if you hold onto this guy until we leave day after tomorrow, I’ll give you one of these with a hand-cranked charger.”
“Deal,” the sheriff replied. “But he’s part of the wagon train leaving tomorrow. Okay if I let him go then?”
Dwight agreed and gave him the man’s pistol. Something about it struck Jake as odd, but he didn’t say anything. He had other things to think about, such as the proper approach to wooing a woman who could easily kick his butt if she were to take offense. A tall, raven-haired beauty, who moved with grace and athleticism, Jennifer was Jake’s idea of the perfect woman.
The sheriff dragged the muddy man with the broken arm to his feet and out the door. Jennifer rejoined Dwight and Jake at the table. She sat down alongside Jake.
“I was talking to that man’s wife before he came up and started smacking his kid around for no reason that I could see. I had to do something,” she explained.
“Anyway, a big wagon train is moving out of here early tomorrow morning. Most of the slave owners have already sold off their slaves to the broker out on Whoombly Road. There should be a large group available.”
It was a common practice; slave owners headed west would bring their slaves as far as the Big Muddy, then sell them off before crossing into the free Kansas Territory. Many had been duped into believing they would travel with their owners into Kansas or beyond and be freed. What was worse, the broker on Whoombly Road, a Mr. Hutchins, was notorious for selling the slaves he acquired into the deep south where conditions were particularly harsh.
“Whoa,” Jake said. “I’m an abolitionist. And besides, we can’t take slaves into the Kansas Territory.”
“Don’t worry,” Jennifer replied. “We’ll buy them and then give them three options when we get to Kansas: go free immediately, come with us as free men and women earning the same wages as the whites, or work for us for one year, and get a free trip to Liberia.” Jake knew that freed slaves had established a colony in Liberia, with the help of the American Colonization Society. He had also heard rumors that the Republic of Indian Stream was shipping escaped slaves there, but no one had ever been able to demonstrate how they were doing it.
“That doesn’t sound like a very wise investment,” Jake responded.
“Its money well spent,” Dwight replied. “I expect at least half of ‘em will decide to stay with us as employees, and we need at least twenty-five more people.”
The following morning Jake woke to the sounds of a big wagon train rolling out of Kansas City. Looking out the window, he saw the man who’d had the altercation with Jennifer Carver sitting in the driver’s seat of a large wagon. A pretty blonde woman next to him was handling the reins since his right arm was in a sling. Jake felt sorry for her.
Just before four o’clock, Jake, Dwight and Jennifer set out for the slave pens on Whoombly Road. When they arrived, they found thirty-six dejected slaves up for sale. There were two additional black women working in the house, both young and pretty, whom Mr. Hutchins clearly didn’t want to sell. But Dwight agreed to Hutchins’s asking price only after the trader included the two women in the deal. When they left, there were no more slaves on the premises.
Whoombly shackled the slaves together at the neck in a long line. They obediently followed Jake and the others back into town, where Dwight led them into the barn next to Mrs. Fielding’s boarding house. He had them all take seats in a circle, then stepped into the middle.
“My name is Dwight Carver.” As always, he pronounced it ‘Cav-ah’. “I’ll be your ownah for the next eighteen hours. After that, we’ll be in the Nebraska Territory where you’ll all be free men and women. I’ll give each of
you papers to that effect.” One of the women began to weep as Dwight went on. “At that time, you’ll have three choices. You can go free and go wherever you want. Or you can agree to work for me, with pay, for one year. Then I promise to have you transported back to the colony for freed slaves in Liberia, Africa. Or you can come to work for me as a regular employee, earning the same wages and living in the same conditions as the white men and women in my employ.”
The weeping woman began to sob uncontrollably. Jake wondered what was wrong. Jennifer went to speak with her while Dwight continued.
“We’re gonna remove your shackles. I caution you against running away, since you’re still in a slave state and you don’t yet have your signed papers. Are there any questions?”
“Where will we be going in the Nebraska Territory?” one of the men asked. “I hear it be a very big place.”
“Excellent question,” Dwight responded. “We’re going all the way to the great bend of the Missouri River, about a thousand miles from here. I’m establishing a large ranch and farm there. I won’t lie to you – the winters are bitterly cold, and it is about as far away from civilization as you can get, so once you’re there, you’ll be stuck until your year is up.”
The soon-to-be-former-slaves had a few other questions, and the weeping woman finally composed herself. Jake took down everybody’s name. He was surprised to learn that there were four married couples in the group.
Jennifer came over to Dwight and Jake with a look that could fry eggs. Jake asked her why the woman was weeping.
“Her name is Ruby. Her bastard owners are in that big wagon train that left this morning,” Jennifer replied. “They sold her, but held on to her two kids. It’ll probably be years before the children realize they aren’t slaves, but she figured that eventually they’d be free, and thus better off. Now she wishes they had been sold to Hutchins along with her.”
The Legend of Indian Stream Page 14
