Revenge Requires Two Graves

by George Emery Townsend

  Chapter 14

  Ft. Kearney

  Near the end of the day the train arrived at Fort Kearney and pulled into a large flat area that had several other wagons already in small circles. The fort wasn’t what they had expected. There was no tall log wall around a military facility and it wasn’t spotless with sharp looking soldiers marching up and down the parade grounds. Instead it was made of several long barracks constructed from sod and the soldiers were unkempt and dirty. The Fort did have a general store, a mail office and a make shift saloon.

  After writing a letter back to Doc in Wisconsin to let him know where they were and which direction they planned to head, Ray wrote a letter to his Ma. He sent it in care of Pueblo de Los Angeles, addressed in his mother’s name hoping she might find it or it finds her. Ray and John then headed over to the general store to post the letters. Larry had chosen to stay back talking with Richard and Laurie. Being curious about what went on in an Army Fort saloon, Ray and John decided to go over and see what it was like. Having heard several stories about the card games, women, bad whiskey and of course gunplay, the two were a little nervous when they stepped into a long, narrow, dark room. The bar ran the length of the building along the back wall, with a series of barrels lined up with planks laid across their tops.

  Because their eyes had not adjusted to the darkness yet, they just followed the sunbeam coming in through the open doorway. It lit a path like a carpet leading them straight to the bar. Trying to look like they belonged, Ray and John moved along its length to the right end in order to get to one side of the room, where they hoped to go unnoticed.

  Ray slid against the bar gliding his left hand along the edge of the planks to guide him. John was right behind him, trying not to lose Ray in the dark. Ray figured they’d gone far enough when he suddenly ran into an object that pushed him back into John making them both fall over each other and on to the floor.

  Their eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness. Ray looked up from the floor and he could make out a man standing over them wearing all black. Rubbing his eyes in an effort to speed the process of seeing in the dark, Ray could now make out a tied down holster sitting low on his right hip. The stranger made sure the gun was still in the holster.

  “Apparently you have a death wish mister. You bumped my arm and spilled my drink. Nobody, and I mean nobody, touches me,” threatened the man in black.

  “Look, we’re awful sorry,” explained John, “it was dark and we couldn’t see where we were goin’. Can we buy you another drink, mister?”

  “You two are lucky. I feel giving today so I’ll let you live. Now buy me that drink and then get the hell away from me,” demanded the man.

  “Yes sir, we will,” said John as he and Ray untangled themselves and lifted themselves up off the floor.

  “Bartender, another whiskey, and these two tinhorns are buyin’,” proclaimed the man in black, returning to the bar with his back to Ray and John.

  “Come on Ray; let’s pay for his whiskey and go. I don’t much feel like a drink anymore,” whispered John.

  “Bullshit, we’re gonna stand up to the bar and have a drink. Then we'll go back to the wagon and get ready for more long days eatin’ dirt and avoidin’ Indians. Come on,” cussed Ray.

  “Okay, you’re right, I am thirsty. What are we gonna order?” asked John.

  “I think it’s either beer or whiskey.” Ray reported.

  “Okay. Bartender, can we get two whiskeys down here?” called John.

  “I was thinkin’ more like a beer but I guess we might as well give it a try.”

  The bartender approached with a bottle and two glasses. “Do you want me to leave the bottle?”

  “Sure,” said John.

  Leaving the bottle, the bartender walked away with a small chuckle under his breath.

  “John, what the hell are you doin’? We don’t drink, not the likes of a full damn bottle. We’ll be drunk out of our minds,” Ray said incredulously.

  “You said you wanted to have a drink, now drink up,” answered John as he threw his drink to the back of his throat and swallowed. “Not bad,” gasped John.

  “Sounds like it,” Ray said as he eased his drink into his mouth and swallowed. It was like drinking fire, burning all the way down. Ray waited for the burn to diminish before he tried to speak, his voice coming out in a strained whisper, “you’re right, not bad.”

  After drinking nearly the entire bottle of rotgut whiskey, John suddenly froze, stared at the back wall of the saloon and ran for the door.

  Ray turned to see where he went, but when he started to turn his head in John’s direction his vision kept going ‘round and ‘round. It was only a matter of time before he was bent over next to John, both emptying their stomachs.

  Returning back to the saloon, the two were met with a barrage of heckling. They quickly paid for their drinks and with their tails between their legs and their heads spinning like two toy tops, slowly helped each other back to the wagons and crawled into their bedrolls.

  It was a rough night for both of them, crossing paths a couple times as they headed out into the bushes to empty their stomachs.

  The next morning the last thing he wanted to see was breakfast, so Ray grabbed a cup of coffee and headed as far away from the cooking fires as he could get. Finding John still sleeping in his bedroll, Ray decided to join the others outside the wagon circle with another cup of coffee.

  “You know, Ray,” said John walking up behind Ray as he tucked his shirt into his pants. “That guy we ran into yesterday in the bar...I was thinkin’ he looked familiar. But I can’t place him.”

  Ray turned from the small group of men he had been talking to address John, “Wait a minute, you know you’re right. I know who he is. Shit, that’s the guy that saved our asses back in Missouri. He shot that guy that was gonna kill us. Remember?” announced Ray.

  “Yeah, that’s it. He must be going to California too. We should find him and ask if he wants to ride along with us.” said John.

  “I don’t think that would be a very good idea. I’ve got a bad feelin’ about that fella.” Ray decided.

  “What are you talking about, Ray?” asked John.

  “Okay, yesterday when we ran into him he was about to call us out. I’m sure he was. It wasn’t until he recognized who we were that he backed off. At first I thought maybe he took us for a couple kids, but now I’m not so sure.”

  “What are you thinkin’, Ray?” joined Larry.

  “A hired gun shows up just in time to kill an assassin out of the goodness of his heart. I saw into his eyes yesterday and there’s no heart there. No, he had his own reasons for killin’ that man. And I reckon it has somethin’ to do with Samantha Foster.”

  “I think you’re still drunk, Ray,” laughed Larry.

  “That may be true, but for now, just humor me. Stay away from that gunslinger and don’t turn your back on him. At least until we know more about him.”

  “What makes you think we’ll ever see him again?” asked Richard.

  “Well, it took us a month to get to here by wagon train. A man on horseback should be almost all the way to Ft Laramie by now. There’s nothin’ here at Ft. Kearney to keep a man like that interested for this long. He’s been waitin’ for us to catch up,” Ray answered.

  “But why?” asked Larry.

  “I think he’s just bidin’ his time. Waitin’ for the perfect moment and place to do what he came to do. He reminds me of a cat playin’ with a mouse. Oh hell, I’m hungry, I’ll see you boys later, I‘m gonna see if there’s any breakfast left.” Ray concluded, turning to walk back to the breakfast fires.

  After some biscuits and bacon, Ray was feeling like his old self again and headed for his mount, figuring he’d be riding with Zeke again today.

  “Excuse me?” came a soft voice from behind him. Ray turned around to find Morgan standing under the shade of a cottonwood tree.

  “I’m sorry, are you talkin’ to me?” Ray ask
ed as he looked around for the someone else she was really calling.

  “Look, all I want to say is that I heard about what you did and why you smelled so bad the other day. Well maybe I misjudged you, a little.” Realizing she was talking to him, Ray turned toward her with a large smile plastered on his face. “I said a little,” Morgan motioned for him to relax. “But you did risk your life for us so I apologize for my comments.” With that said she picked up a blanket from the ground next to her and began folding it. Ray took a moment to notice her graceful hands, thick brown hair, and slender waist. He felt desire take hold in his stomach and his heart beat faster.

  “Well thank you for that. My Pa always told me when you make a mistake; it’s a big man that makes sure he makes it right. Not that you’re a man or anything, I mean...” Ray coughed and awkwardly thought of what to sat next.

  “I know what you mean Ray, now run along I have to get these things loaded in my wagon.”

  “Can I help you with anything?” Ray desperately wanted his time with her to last as long as possible.

  “Look, I said I was sorry, that’s it. I’m sure you have other things to do elsewhere.” Morgan turned and walked to her wagon, arms full.

  Ray stood there totally confused. Muttering to himself, he reasoned, “She hates me, then she talks nice to me and then she hates me again. Oh well, like she said, I have work to do.” And with that, Ray headed over to Quincy for the day’s assignments, glancing back at Morgan over his shoulder before resigning himself to the days work.

  Quincy had the boys load wagons from the general store. Ray hadn’t worked that hard since being back at the mill. Fortunately, the early spring weather was cool enough that they were able to work until almost sunset without a break. Quincy planned for them to load again tomorrow, and then hit the trail the next day. Ray couldn’t believe it but he was actually ready to be on the trail again, not sitting behind a team of mules or oxen, but riding with Zeke.

  Finally they were on their way to Ft Laramie. Zeke and Ray were out ahead of the wagons and gaining distance on them, when a thought ran through Ray’s mind. He hoped that Ft. Laramie would be more exciting than Ft. Kearney turned out to be, but he wasn’t getting his hopes up. Then he wondered if the gunslinger was going to be sitting there waiting for them.

  “I don’t know what you’re thinkin about, but you better get your mind on the trail.” Zeke suggested. “Two men ridin alone out here need to have their wits about them,” said Zeke, bringing Ray out of his daydream. “Let’s see what we can find to spice up the dinner pots tonight.”