Nathan Stark, Army Scout

by William W. Johnstone; J. A. Johnstone

  “Mein Gott,” the German said. “Is this all of you who are left?”

  “There might be some wounded men behind those other rocks,” McCall replied. He turned to the soldiers. “Harney, go take a look around. See if any of the other lads are still alive.”

  “Sure, Sarge,” the private responded. He trotted toward the nearest rock where one of the patrol had taken cover.

  “Where’s Colonel Ledbetter and the rest of the men?” Nathan asked.

  Bucher waved a hand toward the south. “The colonel sent Captain Jameson and a company to pursue the savages we saw fleeing, while he stayed back with another company in reserve.”

  That didn’t surprise Nathan. He had no trouble believing that Ledbetter would send somebody else to chase the Sioux while he remained safely in the rear.

  “Captain Lucas and Company H stayed at the fort,” Bucher went on. “Colonel Ledbetter thought it wise not to leave it undefended. The messenger who brought word to the fort said it was believed the enemy force numbered only approximately fifty, so two companies were more than enough to handle the threat.”

  “And we’d already whittled ’em down quite a bit by the time you got here,” Nathan said. He still didn’t like Colonel Ledbetter, but he had to admit the man had reacted swiftly and appropriately. “I reckon he decided to bring you along as well, Bucher?”

  “A wise officer does not venture into the field without the services of a good scout, ja? It is fortunate I was there. I did not expect to be needed, so I did a bit of hunting yesterday.” Bucher looked at Red Buffalo. “Speaking of scouts, this must be the Crow I have heard about.”

  “Moses Red Buffalo, meet Dietrich Bucher,” Nathan drawled.

  Both men nodded curtly. Neither offered to shake hands.

  Private Harney had made the rounds of the other rocks on the slope where members of the patrol had taken cover. He looked a little sick as he reported back to McCall, “They’re all dead, Sarge. Every one of ’em.”

  “Well, don’t just stand there,” McCall said. “Form a burial detail. We’re not haulin’ all those carcasses back to the fort with us.”

  * * *

  As night fell, the wranglers who had come with Colonel Ledbetter rounded up as many loose horses as they could find. Many of the animals were Indian ponies, while others were mounts that belonged to the original patrol. Some of the army horses were lost. But the wranglers found enough mounts that everyone would be able to ride back to Fort Randall.

  Nathan was relieved when he saw Buck among the animals driven in by the soldiers. He hadn’t figured that Buck would let himself be captured by redskins, but it was good to see for himself that the horse was safe.

  Since Sergeant McCall was the only officer left alive, albeit a noncommissioned one, Colonel Ledbetter spoke to him at length, getting his report on everything that had happened. Ledbetter didn’t ask to talk to the scouts, which didn’t surprise Nathan. As far as the colonel was concerned, civilian scouts might be useful but had no official standing.

  Ledbetter also assigned men to walk around the battlefield and check the bodies of all the fallen Sioux to make sure they were dead and to bring back their rifles, along with anything else of value or interest. Scavenged Winchesters were piled near the campfire. Nathan looked idly at the repeaters, then frowned and hunkered on his heels to study them more closely. He reached out and moved a couple around to get a better look.

  Red Buffalo came up behind him and asked, “What are you doing, Stark?”

  “Nothing.” He straightened. “Just thinking it’s a damned shame those redskins ever got their hands on guns like those.”

  “Bows and arrows against firearms would not be a very fair fight.”

  “Who the hell said anything about fair? Anyway, like I told the lieutenant, Winchesters have a lot more firepower than those army Springfields. If all the Plains Indians wound up being armed with them—”

  “It would make no difference in the long run,” Red Buffalo said. “There are too many white men. They swarm like ants, an endless number of them in the eastern cities.” The Crow shook his head. “The Indian’s way of life is doomed. Some of us know this, so we work with the white men to help our people survive the best they can.”

  “If the numbers were even, you’d fight to the death, though,” Nathan said.

  Red Buffalo’s silence was an eloquent response to that statement.

  The burial detail finished its grim work by lantern light, well after dark. Colonel Ledbetter said a brief prayer for the men being laid to rest, and the bugler played “Taps.”

  When that was done, Nathan looked up Captain Jameson and said, “Best double the guard tonight, Captain. The chances of any of those Sioux coming back are pretty slim, but it won’t hurt to be careful.”

  Bucher was standing nearby, smoking a cigar. “Ja, I have already made the same suggestion to the captain, Stark. We will not be taken by surprise.”

  “In that case, then,” Nathan said, “I’m going to turn in. It has been one hell of a long, hard day.”

  That was true, and thinking about all the Indians he had killed didn’t lift his spirits or ease his weariness, as it might have under normal circumstances. Maybe he had done too much killing, he mused as he stretched out in his bedroll, just before exhaustion claimed him. Was such a thing possible? Could he ever kill too many redskins ... or even enough?

  He didn’t find any answers to those questions in his dreams, because he didn’t have any. His sleep was numb, almost stunned. And when he awoke in the morning, he didn’t feel rested, just ready to get back to the fort.

  Something was nagging at the back of his brain, and he thought he might find an explanation for it there.

  * * *

  Dietrich Bucher was getting his horse ready to ride that morning when he sensed someone behind him. His hand dropped to the big hunting knife sheathed at his waist. He was fast and deadly with the blade and could gut a man in the blink of an eye.

  It was Sergeant Seamus McCall who stood there, however, not an enemy. Of course, he wasn’t a completely trusted ally, either, Bucher reminded himself. Bucher made it a habit not to trust anyone all the way except himself.

  “Damn it, Bucher, what’s the idea?” McCall demanded in a low voice.

  “I don’t know what you mean, Sergeant.”

  McCall pointed to the gash on his cheek left behind by a bullet from one of those Winchesters used by the Sioux. “Look how close I came to dyin’,” he grated. “There’s no tellin’ how many slugs almost got me. The damn redskins weren’t supposed to be shootin’ at me!”

  “Serving in the frontier army is a dangerous profession, Sergeant, and those Sioux had no way of knowing you were among the soldiers who happened upon them. When we entered into this enterprise, we knew there would be risks. But the rewards have been great, nicht wahr?”

  “A fella can’t spend money if he’s dead,” McCall snapped. He blew out a sigh and shrugged. “I suppose you’re right. We got to keep up a good front, and that means goin’ about our usual business. I just don’t like bein’ shot at with guns the blasted heathens wouldn’t even have if not for us! ”

  Bucher leaned closer and motioned for the sergeant to keep his voice down. “Hanging Dog suffered a setback here yesterday, but he still has warriors flocking in from all over the territory. Once he has the next shipment of rifles, he will be able to scour the plains clean of white men... for a while. But you und I and our other two freunden will be long gone by then, Seamus, hopefully enjoying our riches somewhere the weather is warm and the frauleins are beautiful and willing. Is such a destiny not worth taking a few chances?”

  “I suppose,” McCall admitted. “I just don’t like the sound of bullets passin’ that close to my ears! I didn’t like the way Stark was looking at those rifles we gathered up, either.”

  “Stark,” Bucher breathed. “That is a problem I have tried to solve once already. Next time, I will have to try harder.”

  CHAPT
ER 22

  They took their time getting back to the fort and reached it late that afternoon. Nathan was glad to see that nothing had happened while Colonel Ledbetter was gone with two companies. It would be just like a bunch of tricky redskins to attack the fort while most of the garrison was occupied elsewhere. The fact that Lieutenant Pryor’s patrol had encountered the Indians largely by accident meant the possibility of such a sneak attack wasn’t very likely, though.

  As the force rode in, Nathan saw Delia Blaine come out of the chapel where she had her school. She took a couple hurried steps as if she were about to break into a run that would carry her out to greet him but then stopped and just smiled in his direction. He gave her a nod as he rode by, twenty yards away. A warm tightness filled his chest. It wasn’t a particularly welcome feeling. He had a mission in life. It was really all he had. Getting involved with Delia would just complicate things.

  No matter how gratifying such a complication might be in some ways, he didn’t need anything distracting him from his goal. He was plagued already by too many doubts stemming from the encounter with Black Sun and the difficult questions Red Buffalo had asked him while they were squatting in those rocks, waiting to die.

  There was nothing like the looming specter of death to clarify a man’s thoughts and make him be honest with himself.

  After the ride around the parade ground-showing off by Colonel Ledbetter, Nathan thought, even though the colonel hadn’t done anything except chase a few Indians off—they went to the stable and turned their horses over to the hostlers.

  Nathan walked to his cabin and found Delia waiting on the little porch.

  “Thank God you’re back,” she said as she put her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. She had given him a few hugs when she’d said good night after meals he had shared with her and Stephen, but not like that. Those embraces had been friendly, that was all. This one was tinged with desperation and need and relief.

  “When I heard that the patrol had been trapped by the Sioux, I... I was so worried about you, Nathan.”

  “You had every right to be,” he told her as he slid his left arm around her waist and patted her rather awkwardly on the back with his right hand. He moved his right hand to her auburn hair and touched it lightly as she rested her head against his shoulder. “This, uh ... I’m not sure how proper this is, hugging like this right out in the middle of the open.”

  “If you think I care about propriety right now, Nathan Stark, you’re sadly mistaken.”

  “Well, in that case...” He continued to hold her. He had been with a number of women during the past fifteen years, all of them soiled doves or saloon girls who had slaked a basic physical need no more meaningful than hunger or thirst, but that was all. Delia was the first respectable lady he had held in his arms since his wife. It was a sensation rewarding and disturbing.

  After a moment he stepped away and put his hands on her shoulders. “Just so you won’t worry anymore, I’m fine. Not even a scratch.”

  “Quite a few men were killed, though, weren’t they? ”

  Nathan leaned his head to the side. “I’m afraid so.”

  “And next time, you could be one of them.”

  “We all know the risks.” Thinking about Stephen, Nathan added, “You as well as anybody, I reckon.”

  “That doesn’t make it any better. I wish... sometimes I wish I could go back east and live somewhere I never had to hear about such dreadful things again.”

  “You can go any time,” he told her. “There’s nothing holding you out here.”

  “I wouldn’t want to go alone.”

  Nathan wasn’t going to travel any farther along that trail. He said, “I reckon I ought to clean up. Not sure I’ll ever get all the powder smoke grime off of me.”

  “You’ll come to supper tonight,” she said. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “I don’t suppose I’ll try to give it, then.” He put even more distance between them. “So long, Delia.”

  “Come to my house at seven.”

  Not seeing any way to avoid it, he nodded his head and promised, “I’ll be there.”

  He wasn’t sure where the evening would lead, but he didn’t figure it would be anywhere good.

  * * *

  There was still an arch of reddish-gold light in the western sky when Nathan went up the two steps onto the porch of Delia’s house. She must have been watching for him as she opened the door before he could reach it.

  He had washed up, put on a clean blue bib-front shirt and a pair of fringed buckskin trousers. He’d brushed the dust off his black hat and had it cocked at a sort of jaunty angle on his head. While he was getting ready, he had asked himself why he was going to so much trouble to make himself look respectable. The last time he had gone to Delia’s for supper, the evening hadn’t ended well. This one might not, either, although she was obviously glad to see that he had gotten back to the fort safely. He assumed she was glad for the other survivors from the patrol, too, but she hadn’t invited them to eat with her.

  She wore a dark blue dress, had her hair pinned up, and looked lovely. She held out a hand to him and said, “Come in, Nathan. Let me take your hat.”

  He handed it to her and she led him into the foyer. As she turned and hung the hat on one of the hooks of a hat tree, he noticed another hat hanging there. It was black, too, but with a high, creased crown and an eagle feather stuck in the band. Nathan’s breath caught in his throat as he recognized it. His heart pounded and made his pulse thunder inside his head.

  “What the hell!” he exclaimed, not giving a hang about cussing in front of a lady.

  Delia took hold of his arm. “Let’s go into the parlor.” She hung on and steered him in that direction, and since he didn’t want to jerk roughly away from her, he went with her.

  He came to an abrupt stop just inside the door to the parlor, though. He couldn’t go any farther. Moses Red Buffalo stood beside the fireplace with a pipe in his hand.

  Nathan glared at the Crow. “I hate to tell you this, Delia, but you’re never gonna get the stink of redskin out of here.”

  “Shame on you, Nathan! I didn’t invite you here to insult my other guest.”

  He turned his head to look at her and tried not to glare. “Why did you invite me, then? And why in blazes did you invite him?”

  Her chin lifted defiantly as she said, “Because I thought the two of you should talk, and I’m hoping that you’ll regard this as neutral ground, so to speak.”

  “There’s no such thing as neutral ground where Indians are concerned,” Nathan snapped.

  “You’re right, Stark,” Red Buffalo said, “because wherever there are Indians, white men are trying to take their land and everything else away from them.”

  “Stop it, both of you,” Delia said calmly. “You’re on the same side. You’re both assigned to this post, whether you like it or not, and from what I’ve heard, you saved each other’s life more than once during the past few days. So there’s no reason why you can’t stop insulting each other and sit down to supper at the same table like civilized human beings.”

  Nathan started to make some comment about how redskins weren’t human beings and sure as hell not civilized, but the way Delia was looking at him, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He supposed that if she could put up with having Red Buffalo there, after what had happened to her husband, he could, too.

  He took a deep breath and said, “All right. But you’d better behave yourself, Red Buffalo.”

  “I’ll try not to jump onto the table and break into a war dance in the middle of the meal,” the Crow said.

  That wry comment made Delia smile, which just increased the resentment Nathan felt.

  “You two gentlemen can keep each other company while I go check on the food one last time.” She swept out of the room.

  “Our hostess is quite charming,” Red Buffalo said when Delia was gone.

  “I’ve told you before, don’t talk about that wom
an.”

  “Not even to pay her a compliment? A richly deserved compliment, I might add.”

  “Just—” Nathan broke off what he’d been about to say. He closed his eyes for a second, forced himself to breathe regularly, and then said, “Mrs. Blaine is an old friend of mine. I believe I’ve already explained that to you. I don’t want to do anything that might distress her.”

  “I’ve only just met the lady, and I feel the same way. Don’t worry, Stark. I’m going to be on my best behavior this evening, and I suggest you do the same. I was... surprised... by Mrs. Blaine’s invitation, and I’d just as soon not give her any reason to regret it.” Red Buffalo smiled. “She might even issue another one, one of these days.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Nathan said.

  “We’ll see.”

  Red Buffalo stood there by the fireplace smoking his pipe. He had put on a clean shirt, too, Nathan noted, and wiped away the powder smoke grime.

  An awkward silence hung between them until Delia came back into the room. “We’re ready to eat,” she announced. “Gentlemen, if you’ll follow me.”

  Nathan and Red Buffalo started toward her at the same time. They might have bumped into each other if they’d both kept going, but Red Buffalo paused. With a little mocking smile, he motioned for Nathan to go first. Nathan scowled, feeling that the Crow had gotten the better of him somehow, but went ahead anyway.

  Delia led them into the dining room. The table had a white linen cover on it, with settings of fine crystal and china and silver. A platter of fried chicken was in the center of the table, surrounded by bowls of potatoes and corn and greens, a tureen of gravy, and a plate stacked with fluffy biscuits. Delia filled the glasses with lemonade from a pitcher. Cups and saucers had been placed at every setting, too, and a pot of coffee stood ready.

  Nathan held the chair at the head of the table for her, then moved to the chair on her right. Red Buffalo took the one on her left.

  As the men sat down, Red Buffalo said, “Mrs. Blaine, I hope it will be all right if I say grace before we eat.”

  “Why, that would be just fine, Mr. Red Buffalo,” she replied. “Are you a Christian man?”