“So will I,” the others answered in a single voice.
CHAPTER 2
Dodge City, Kansas. September 18, 1873.
The four women were hungry, and not until the meal was over did conversation seem appropriate. Mac Tunstall spoke.
“May we ask why you ladies are here in Dodge, unescorted? That is, unless we’re just pryin’ into something that’s none of our business.”
“You are, and it is,” Trinity replied, her eyes twinkling, “but I suppose we have to trust someone, and so far, we haven’t had a lot of choice.”
“That don’t say much for this town,” said Haze Sanderson, “overlookin’ four pretty girls.”
“We’re here looking for men,” Hattie Sutton said, “but not in the way it may seem.”
“We’re looking for our husbands,” said Trinity.
“Oh?” Red McLean said. “What would they be doing here in Dodge?”
“They’re not here,” said Rachel Price. “This is as close as we could get to them by train. They’re somewhere in Texas, we think.”
“We hope,” Elizabeth Graves added. “They were part of a scouting party from Fort Griffin, and the army reported them missing, almost a year ago.”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” said Haze Sanderson, “but if the army can’t find ’em, how do you ladies expect to?”
“We don’t exactly know,” Trinity replied. “We finally learned that their scouting party was believed to have been attacked by Quanah Parker and his Comanches.”
“That’s bad news, ma’am,” said Mac. “In fact, it couldn’t be much worse. Does the commanding officer at Fort Griffin know you’re coming?”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “We feared the military would just try to talk us out of it.”
“That, or forbid us to come at all,” said Trinity.
“They would and should have done exactly that,” Buck Prinz said. “Quanah Parker and his bunch of Comanches are gettin’ desperate, and the danger is three times greater than it was a year ago. How do you expect to get from here to Fort Griffin?”
“We have enough for a wagon, teams, and supplies,” said Trinity. “We’re hoping that we can find another train going south, and travel with them.”
“There likely won’t be any wagon trains going south, until Parker and his Comanches are under control,” Mac said. “There may be an occasional military payroll going to the Texas forts, but it would be under heavy guard, and you ladies certainly wouldn’t be permitted to go.”
“They could go with us,” Red McLean suggested helpfully.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” said Mac, glaring at Red.
“Why not?” Rachel Price demanded. “We don’t have a lot of money, but we can pay.”
“Several reasons,” said Mac. “We are already committed, and we’ve given our word. If that’s not enough, our wagons will likely draw Parker and his Comanches like flies are drawn to honey. That’s the last thing you want.”
“Quanah Parker and the Comanches will be a problem for us, either way,” Elizabeth Graves said. “Do you think they won’t bother us if we’re alone?”
“Alone?” said Buck Prinz. “My God, you can’t go through Comanche country alone.”
“Oh, but we can,” Trinity said, “if that’s the only way.”
“Ma’am,” said Mac, “what you’re suggesting is as foolish as it is impossible.”
“Perhaps,” Rachel Price said, “but we didn’t come this far just to be turned back for fear of a bunch of troublesome Indians.”
“They’re more than troublesome,” Red McLean said. “Do any of you have any idea what they’ll do to white women?”
“We’re getting away from the subject,” said Rachel Price. “We’re going to Texas, if we have to go alone. If our wagon can’t travel with yours, and there’s no other train, then we’ll have to go alone.”
“No decent white man would allow you to do that,” Mac said.
“No decent white man would deny us help,” said Hattie Sutton. “I’m ready to return to the hotel.”
“We’ll walk you back,” Red McLean said.
“Thanks,” said Rachel Price, “but you’ve done enough for us.”
“Yes,” Trinity snapped, “we’re perfectly capable of finding our own way.”
Without another word, the four of them got up and stalked out of the restaurant.
“I reckon,” said Red, “we got on the bad side of them.”
“It won’t make no difference,” Buck said. “They all got husbands.”
“Wrong,” said Mac. “They all had husbands. How many bluecoats have been captured by the Comanches and lived to talk about it?”
“You’re dead right,” Haze said. “It’s just a damn shame they’re risking their lives for a cause that’s already lost. Maybe if the post commander at Fort Dodge—”
“Whoa,” said Mac. “We’ve done our best to change their minds. They didn’t trust the judgment of the post commander at Fort Griffin. Anything we say or do will only result in them disliking us all the more. We’d best quit while we’re ahead.”
“Yeah,” Red agreed. “Tomorrow, when that hearing’s over, we can be on our way.”
Dodge City, Kansas. September 19, 1873.
At the request of the army officers who had accompanied Hiram Yeager, the hearing was private. It was also brief. As expected, Jernigan and Brandt convicted each other.
“There is no doubt in my mind that these men are guilty,” Judge Calder said. “Since Mr. Jernigan is active military, it has been requested that he be returned to Fort Dodge, where he will remain until the time of his court-martial. Mr. Brandt will be returned to Kansas City, where he is to be prosecuted in federal court for his participation in a crime against the Union. This court stands adjourned.”
Hiram Yeager looked relieved, for Watson Brandt had run afoul of federal law, and it was out of his hands. The ten men he was depending on to take the wagons to Austin had gathered in the hall, outside the courtroom, and Yeager went to them.
“I’m counting on you men,” he said. “The livery will have your teams ready in the morning. There is room in each wagon for two hundred pounds of grain, and necessary supplies for the journey. Get your supplies and grain from the mercantile across the street from the livery and wagon yard.”
“One thing we ain’t discussed,” Port Guthrie said. “We got no particular reason for goin’ to Texas, except as whackers for your wagons. What becomes of them and the teams after we reach Austin an’ unload?”
“Return to Dodge empty,” said Yeager, “and that’s where you’ll leave the mules. The wagons are to be left near the depot, where they’ll be returned to Kansas City by rail. If you men want to remain with Plains, telegraph me from here, and I’ll arrange for all of you to take the train back to Kansas City.”
With that, Yeager was gone.
“Well,” Mac said, “I reckon we’d better enjoy this town grub and the hotel beds while we can. But for now, we’d better get back to the depot and relieve those men Mr. Yeager left guarding the wagons.”
Later that afternoon, Sheriff Harrington rode to the depot, where he visited with the men he had come to know and like.
“I reckon it all worked out to suit you gents,” said Harrington. “Jernigan will likely catch hell from the military, and with Brandt to be tried in federal court, he’ll be lucky to get off with ten years. Now all you have to bother you is the several hundred renegades hidin’ out in Indian Territory, and them seven hundred Comanches out yonder with Quanah Parker.”
All the men laughed, for it was gruesome frontier humor at its worst.
“You’re a real comfort, Sheriff,” Mac said. “Wish you was ridin’ with us.”
“Thank God I’m not,” said Harrington. “I’ll stay here in civilization, where all I have to bother me is the possibility of bein’ shot in the back by some drunk or tinhorn cardsharp. Good luck.”
Dodge City, Kansas. September 20, 1873.
At first light, Mac Tunstall gathered his nine men, prior to unloading the wagons from the flatcars.
“Go on to the wagon yard for the mules,” Mac said. “First thing, after unloading the wagons, we’ll go to the mercantile for our supplies and grain for the mules.”
Mac and his three companions waited with the wagons until the teamsters returned with the teams of mules and harness. The flatcars were then uncoupled, and with a ramp at one end, mule teams were backed up to each wagon. Once all the wagons were unloaded, the teamsters drove to the mercantile. Mac and his companions followed, and as soon as they were in sight of the mercantile, their eyes were drawn to the wagon yard across the street. Four very familiar women were harnessing teams of mules to a wagon.
“Well, by God,” Red exclaimed, “would you look at that.”
“I’d say they aim to join us, whether we want ’em or not,” said Buck.
“Not by a jugful,” Mac replied. “We’ll have all we can say grace over, without those troublesome females along.”
“Suppose they follow us,” said Buck. “What do you aim to do?”
“Ignore them,” Mac said.
Haze laughed. “That won’t be easy, if the Comanches attack. You aim to stand by and watch them hostile varmints have their way with white women?”
“Damn it,” said Mac, “I don’t know what I’ll do, until the time comes. If Comanches attack, don’t expect them to ignore us. We won’t be standing around watching them have their way with those foolish females. We’ll be fighting for our lives.”
“Somebody ought to suggest they arm themselves,” Red observed.
“Go ahead,” said Mac. “They don’t value my advice all that much.”
Red trotted his horse over to the wagon, and the women seemed not to see him. He spoke as calmly as he could.
“If you’re bound to go, you need weapons.”
“Oh?” said Trinity. “You mean these?”
Reaching under the wagon seat, she brought out a Winchester and jacked a shell into the firing chamber.
“Yeah,” Red replied.
He heard them laughing at him as he rode away, and when he reached his companions, they greeted him with delighted grins.
“That’s what happens,” he gritted, “when a man tries to do the right thing.”
“Now that you’ve done your good deed,” said Mac, “let’s help the bullwhackers load the grub and grain into the wagons.”
“They didn’t leave us much room,” Port Guthrie said, as he loosened the drawstring to the canvas pucker at the rear of his wagon.
“We can pack some grub behind our saddles, if need be,” said Mac.
They loaded the grain first, and by carefully packing the supplies, managed to get all of them into the space that remained. Sheriff Harrington reined up, and hooking a leg around his saddle horn, watched them complete their task. Gesturing toward the women across the street, Harrington spoke.
“What do you know about the ladies hitching mules to that wagon?”
“That when it comes to stubborn, they’re six notches below the mules,” said Mac.
Harrington laughed. “I heard you hombres was havin’ supper with ’em last night, and then I heard they’re goin’ to Texas, so I just reckoned they’d be goin’ with you gents.”
“They reckoned the same thing,” Haze said, “but Mac set ’em straight.”
“Hell,” Red observed, “they got at least one Winchester.”
“They have four,” said Sheriff Harrington. “The gunsmith come and told me.”
“For their sake,” Mac said, “I hope they can shoot. I don’t reckon there’s anything you can do to keep them from followin’ us?”
“Not a thing,” said Harrington cheerfully. “Since they’re hell-bent on goin’, I was kind of hopin’ you’d allow them to trail with you. I’d feel better about them.”
“Plains Freight Lines is paying us,” Mac said, “and I doubt Mr. Yeager would take it kindly if we had a wagonload of gypsy females followin’ us.”
“Yeager’s gone,” said Harrington, “and I can’t see that it would matter to him, just so you reach Austin safely with his cargo. But that’s your business.”
Sheriff Harrington rode away. When the supplies and grain had been loaded, the six teamsters climbed to their wagon boxes and the big wagons rolled south. Crossing the railroad tracks, they were soon just moving dots on the endless Kansas plain. The wagon with the four determined women followed, and not being nearly as heavily loaded, it managed to catch up to within a few hundred feet of the six wagons ahead of it.
“They’re followin’ us,” Red observed.
“No law against that,” said Mac. “When our mules get used to one another, and used to the trail, we’ll leave them behind.”
“Don’t count on it,” Red said. “Their wagon ain’t loaded like ours. They’ll be on our tail ever’ jump of the way.”
“Don’t sound so damned pleased,” said Mac irritably.
“Come on, Mac,” Haze said, “you know their men are dead and their bones are likely bleaching in the Texas sun. Sooner or later, they’ll have to accept that. They’re all young enough and pretty enough to make some lucky varmints a real handful. Me, I got my loop set for that little blonde with the big brown eyes.”
“Haze,” said Mac, “you’re a damned romantic fool. That pack of females will all hang around some fort and end up gettin’ hitched to some bluecoats just as broke and unlucky as them four the Comanches took care of.”
But the determined women kept up with the heavily laden wagons, and when the men made camp for the night, the lone wagon that had trailed them all day was but a stone’s throw away. Worse, a light breeze brought the taunting smell of dutch-oven biscuits, as the women prepared supper. When the men began cooking their own meal, they made an alarming discovery. For all the supplies they had loaded into the wagons, they had failed to bring any coffee. That same breeze that tortured them with freshly baked biscuits added to their misery by wafting the odor of strong, black coffee.
“Damn it,” said Mac, “in the morning, I’ll ride back to Dodge and get some coffee.”
“But I want coffee tonight, and in the morning,” Haze Sanderson said.
“So do I,” said Buck.
“Me, too,” Red added.
“Hell,” said Emmett Budd, one of the teamsters, “I’m goin’ over there and askin’ them females fer some coffee. All they can say is no.”
Taking his tin cup, he headed for the distant wagon. Not to be outdone, his five companions took their tin cups and followed. Red McLean laughed, while Buck, Haze, and Mac watched with interest, expecting the brash teamsters to get their comeuppance. But it didn’t happen. The six men returned with cups of steaming coffee, eating fresh-baked dutch-oven biscuits.
“Tarnation,” Red growled, “how’d they manage that?”
“We told ’em we didn’t have any coffee,” said Lafe Beard, “an’ asked if we could have a cup of theirs. They said we can have some more at breakfast, an’ we got biscuits, too.”
“Well, by God,” Haze said, “I ain’t got too much pride to go beggin’ hot coffee.”
“Me, neither,” said Red. “Let’s go.”
“Damn right,” Buck said. “You goin’, Mac?”
“I reckon not,” said Mac. “I got on their bad side, and I doubt I’d be welcome.”
Mac remained with the wagons, while his three companions went to try their luck. To Mac’s surprise, when they returned, Red had brought an extra tin cup of coffee for him. He got a freshly baked biscuit, too.
“They ain’t holdin’ a grudge,” Haze said. “They was a lot nicer to us than we was to them. They told us we can have coffee for breakfast, too.”
“One of you can ride back to Dodge in the morning and get a supply of coffee,” said Mac, “and we’ll replace some of theirs.”
“I think they’d be insulted if we done that,” Buck said. “The coffee they sent you is in one of their
cups. When you’re done with it, why don’t you return it? While you’re there, eat some crow and invite them to trail their wagon with ours.”
“Hell, why not?” said Haze. “They’ll follow us anyhow, and who’d have ever thought they’d know how to bake dutch-oven biscuits?”
“I won’t be a bit surprised if they know how to handle them Winchesters,” Red said.
“I’ll talk to them, damn it,” said Mac.
He put it off as long as he could, waiting until they had finished the coffee and all the cups had been washed. Then, like a condemned man with his borrowed cup, he took the walk to the wagon. The first stars were blooming like silver daisies in a meadow of deep purple, and the four women watched him approach. They said nothing, and he realized the next move was his.
“We’re obliged for the coffee,” he began. “I don’t know how we could have been so damned—”
Embarrassed, he caught himself, and the women laughed.
“We’re not shrinking violets, Mr. Tunstall,” said Trinity. “We don’t expect a man to talk and act like he’s in Sunday school.”
“One of us will ride back to Dodge in the morning,” Mac said, feeling a little more at ease. “We’ll get enough coffee to replenish your supply.”
“You owe us nothing,” said Hattie. “You needed coffee, and we have plenty. Let that be the end of it.”
“You’re generous,” Mac said, “and kinder to us than we deserve. I reckon it’s time I admitted I was wrong in not allowing your wagon to trail with ours. I still believe yours is a dangerous and probably hopeless journey, but if you’re determined to go, then I have no right to stand in your way. We’ll see you to Fort Griffin, if that’s where you’re wanting to go, and help you in any way that we can.”
“We all have our shortcomings,” said Trinity. “I suppose we seem forward at times, and I believe we should forget past misunderstandings and go on from here. Do you have any objection if we move our wagon closer to yours?”
“None,” Mac said. “I’ll harness your teams for you.”
The Winchester Run Page 4
