Buffalo War (The Dragoons #1), page 6
“Hold it!” Devlin said. The corpse under the wagon had become exposed. “Who is that?”
“One of the fellers took sick and died,” Wheatfall said. “We’ll leave him here.”
Devlin rode over and saw the gaping wound in the dead man’s neck. “He’s been murdered.”
Wheatfall looked at the body and feigned surprise at the injury. Then, knowing he couldn’t get away with a lie, the gang leader grinned. “Well, it was a fair fight. We got lots o’ witnesses.”
“Bury him,” Devlin ordered.
“We ain’t got any shovels,” Wheatfall protested.
“Then, you’ll dig a grave with your bare hands,” Devlin said.
Wheatfall snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah! I just remembered. We got some shovels in that wagon over there.”
“Get to work,” Devlin said.
“Are you gonna say some words over our poor departed brother?” Wheatfall asked.
“Just put that piece of shit into the ground,” Devlin said. “Now!”
“You’re a cold man, Major,” Wheatfall said.
He quickly picked out a couple of men, and the grave digging began. Within a short time, the corpse was buried and the hunters went back to packing up. The experienced frontiersmen had their camp completely broken down and ready to move within a quarter of an hour. Drivers got up into the wagon seats while the remainder of the men mounted up.
“Move out!” Wheatfall yelled.
Major Matt Devlin and Captain Paul Teasedale watched the group slowly move away toward the east.
“Send a section to escort them, Paul,” Devlin said. “Have the men follow them until they’re on the other side of the Des Lacs River.”
“Yes, sir,” Teasedale said.
He set the order into motion, and a couple dozen dragoons headed out under the command of Sergeant Kennedy.
The rest of the troops fell back into column formation to begin the return to Fort Buffalo. The orange and white guidon of Company B whipped in the breeze as the dragoons cantered across the prairie. Equipment slapped in time to the pounding of the horses’ hooves in the formation of blue and yellow. The martial scene seemed out of place in the stark beauty of the untamed prairie country.
They arrived at the garrison in time to dismount and properly restore their horses to the post stables before falling in for retreat formation that would mark the end of the duty day. Since Devlin and Teasedale were not properly attired for the ceremony, Captain Bernie Blanchard of A Company took charge. After the final bugle call and firing of the post’s small cannon, Devlin went directly back to his quarters.
His wife, Beth, was waiting for him, and she didn’t have good news. “Freddie got into trouble yesterday,” she announced in a terse voice.
“I don’t know who’s worse,” Devlin said. “Illegal buffalo hunters or my oldest son.” He sighed. “What did he do?”
“Private Kubelsky brought him home yesterday,” Beth said. “I’ve kept him in the house ever since.”
“Just tell me what he did this time,” Devlin said testily.
“The commissary sergeant caught him stealing hardtack crackers and jam from the storeroom,” Beth said.
“Now, why would he do that?” Devlin asked.
“I did not discuss the matter with him,” Beth said.
“How many children were with him in this mischief?” Devlin inquired.
“Apparently he didn’t see fit to bring any of the other kids in on this particular prank,” Beth said.
“Where are our darling offspring?” Devlin asked.
“Mattie and Tommy are out playing,” Beth answered. “Freddie is back in the children’s room.”
“How much hardtack and jam did he take?” Devlin asked.
“Not very much,” Beth said. “Private Kubelsky said the sergeant only reported it because you had issued orders stating you wanted to know about any misbehavior that involved the boy.”
Devlin hung his cap and pistol-and-saber belt on the rack in the corner of the living room. He strode through the house and stepped into the children’s bedroom.
Twelve-year-old Freddie Devlin, who had heard his father’s entrance, stood waiting for the worst. “Hello, Papa.”
Devlin was not the type of army officer or father to waste time. “Whatever made you want to steal hardtack crackers and jam from the commissary?”
“I got ’em for my friend, sir,” Freddie answered.
“What friend?” Devlin asked. “Who would want hardtack crackers to begin with?”
“His name is Swift Rabbit, and he gimme something to eat; so I had to go and get him something,” Freddie said.
“An Indian boy?” Devlin asked.
“Yes, sir,” Freddie said. “I asked Mama for something, but she tole me to leave her alone. It’s her fault!”
“It is not your mother’s fault!” Devlin shouted. He calmed down. “I’m not so sure I want you hanging around with those Indian children. They have lice.”
“I don’t think so, Papa,” Freddie said. “They don’t scratch their heads much.”
“That’s not important now,” Devlin said.
“Sergeant Dawson’s kids have got lice,” Freddie said.
“I don’t know a thing about the sergeant’s family, but I am certain those Indians have lice,” Devlin said. “What did what’s-his-name give you to eat?”
“His name is Swift Rabbit,” Freddie said. “He calls me Fox.”
“Never mind,” Devlin said. “What did he give you to eat?”
“Dog meat,” Freddie said.
Devlin swallowed. “You ate a dog?”
“Not a whole one,” Freddie answered. “Just part of a hind leg. I never ate a dog before. I’ve petted ’em and played with ’em, but I don’t think I ever ate one. So after Swift Rabbit gimme some, I had to get him something to eat. Mama wouldn’t give me nothing, so I had to get something, so I knew where there was that hardtack in the commissary and I found some jam and I only took a jar and that seemed a pretty fair swap for dog. Nobody even seen me take the stuff.”
“Oh, you’re very mistaken about that, young man,” Devlin said. “The commissary sergeant saw you run off with the stuff and told Private Kubelsky.”
“There was lots o’ jam in the commissary, and hardtack, too,” Freddie said.
“That doesn’t matter,” Devlin said. “The food in there is for the soldiers. It didn’t belong to you. You stole it, Freddie.”
“No, I didn’t! I swapped it for dog!” Freddie insisted.
“If you take something that doesn’t belong to you, it is stealing,” Devlin said. “I don’t care if you swap it for dog meat or keep it. We whip soldiers for stealing.”
“I get whipped for just about ever’thing I do,” Freddie said, unimpressed.
“I think that the next time there is a flogging, I am going to let you watch,” Devlin said. “Then you’ll know what a real whipping is.” He undid his belt and pulled it from the loops in his trousers.
Freddie, knowing the routine from plenty of experience, turned around to receive his just due. Devlin laid on three good ones, pleased to note that the boy did not utter a sound.
“Now what do you say?” Devlin asked as he replaced the belt.
“I’m sorry, Papa,” Freddie said, rubbing his behind.
Before either could speak again, a hard knocking at the front door could be heard.
“You stay in your room, boy,” Devlin said. “And no supper for you tonight.”
The major walked through the house and reached the living room in time to see his wife standing at the open front door with the commissary sergeant.
“What can I do for you, Sergeant Harrigan?” Devlin asked. “If it’s about that hardtack and jam, I’ve already been informed and have punished my son.”
“It ain’t about that, sir,” Harrigan said. “It’s about the issue o’ beef that come in while you was out on patrol.”
“It arrived, did it not?” Devlin asked.
“Yes, sir, and right on time,” Harrigan said. “The problem is that it is short.”
“Short?” Devlin asked with a groan. “How short, Sergeant?”
“By half, sir,” the sergeant said. “There ain’t but a hundred head. Between that and them slaughtered buffalo, them Kiwotas is gonna be real upset.”
Devlin fetched his cap and pistol-and-sword belt. “This is going to be one hell of a summer,” he said under his breath.
Beth asked, “Shall I wait supper, Matt?”
“No,” he answered. “Go find Mattie and Tommy and get them in the house. I’m going to pass the word that everyone at Fort Buffalo is confined to the post.”
“Is it that bad?” Beth asked with a worried expression.
“Yes, and bound to get worse,” Devlin said, walking out of the house to join Sergeant Harrigan for a quick walk over to the agency.
Chapter Six
When Devlin arrived at the agency he found a large group of agitated Indians milling around in front of the place. Because no warrior, not even War Heart, had seen fit to step forward as a speaker, the Kiwotas seemed confused and uncertain of themselves. Dealing with whites had always been confusing. An honest Indian never knew if he was being lied to, swindled, or being spoken to in a genuine, truthful manner.
But, in spite of this lack of cohesiveness and full knowledge of the situation, their anger was intense, even if not directed, and that irritation was punctuated with numerous shouts and gestures at the agency building.
The major pushed his way through the crowd that quickly quieted down when his presence was noted. Even though the man they called Looks Ahead had been a bitter enemy, there was respect and some trust for him among certain members of the tribe.
War Heart and the army officer momentarily exchanged glances, but neither spoke. Devlin turned his attention to the building. He saw that the door was closed. He tried to open it, but the heavy portal was locked. The major pounded on it.
“Get the hell away from here you Injun sons of bitches!” Wheeler Coburn yelled in a shrill voice from within the shelter of the building. “I’ll have the goddamned army kill ever’ one o’ you! Go away!”
“Coburn!” Devlin hollered. “It’s me. Major Devlin.”
“It’s about goddamn time!” The sound of the bar being removed could be heard. He pulled the heavy door open and peeked out. “Where’s the troops?”
“Never mind about the troops,” Devlin said, pushing his way inside.
“You mean you come over here all by your lonesome?” Coburn asked in a nervous voice.
“Let’s take a look at what’s going on before we call out any of my dragoons,” Devlin said.
Coburn quickly closed the door and replaced the bar. “Them Injuns is madder’n hell about the beef issue. It ain’t my fault!”
“I heard only half the cattle showed up,” Devlin said. He noticed a group of men sitting in a dark corner of the agency store. “Who are they?”
“Them’s the drovers that brung the herd over from Minnesota,” Coburn said.
“What happened to the rest of the cattle?” Devlin angrily demanded to know.
One of the men got up and walked over. “Don’t you go yelling at me, soldier-boy,” he growled.
“You call me soldier-boy one more time and I’ll take you outside and feed you to those Indians,” Devlin said. “Answer me, damn your eyes! Where are the rest of those cattle?”
The man involuntarily stepped back from the officer’s rage. “Hang on now, mister. I’m as upset as you are. We picked up that herd at Fort Snelling and signed fer a hunnerd head. That’s all they was, and that’s all I got.” He fumbled in his pockets and produced the receipt, handing it to Devlin. “The first thing I know when I deliver ’em is that there’s a tribe o’ crazy redskins want me and my boys’ scalps.”
Devlin examined the document, then returned it. “You’re right. All Fort Snelling issued was a hundred beeves.”
“I sent for Jeffries,” Coburn said.
“I’ll bet you’ll be glad to have him around for a change, won’t you?” Devlin asked.
“He’s the onliest one that can speak to them goddamned Injuns,” Coburn said sullenly.
Devlin nodded. “Well, we’ll need him, that’s for sure.” He turned to the drover chief. “What’s your name?”
“Connors,” he answered. “Who’re you, mister?”
“I’m Major Devlin, Mr. Connors,” the army officer replied. “You, like us, have found yourself in a most unpleasant situation in which none of us have the blame. Somebody made a mistake and sent only half the cattle needed.”
“Oh, shit!” Connors said. “If’n I’d knowed that, I wouldn’t have even come over here. I never liked dealing with that Injun Bureau! They ain’t dependable all that much, and the money I’m making ain’t worth my ass.”
A knock at the door sounded. “It’s me Jeffries. You better let me in.”
Devlin opened the door, allowing the scout to enter. “Only half the cattle arrived for the spring issue.”
“That’s what the Kiwotas told me,” Jeffries said. “They ain’t much on counting, but it’s easy enough for ’em to tell that they’re being shorted bad.”
“I’m going to file a report,” Coburn said.
“That should help a lot,” Devlin said sarcastically.
Jeffries continued, “Between this and those slaughtered buffalo, things could go real bad for the tribe. I don’t blame ’em for being madder’n hell.”
“Let’s go out and talk to them,” Devlin said.
“Good idea,” Jeffries said.
“Are you two crazy?” Coburn demanded to know. “Them Injuns’ll scalp you and burn you at the stake! You better go get some soldiers damn quick.”
“A show of force is the last thing we need right now,” Devlin said. “Come on, Mr. Jeffries. You, too, Coburn.”
“I ain’t going out there!” Coburn exclaimed.
“I don’t blame you none,” Connors said. He went back and joined his men in the dark corner.
Devlin didn’t want to waste any more time. He and Jeffries undid the door and stepped outside.
“Listen to me!” the major yelled.
“Looks Ahead would speak to you,” Jeffries translated. “Listen to what he has to say.”
War Heart, Running Wolf, and White Elk stood in the front. They gave no commands, but when they quieted down and gave their full attention to the white man and the black man standing in front of them, the other Indians did likewise.
Speaking through Jeffries, Devlin said, “You have all seen that not all the cattle have arrived. You grow angry, and I do not blame you. But, I say this to you, the rest will be here soon. I do not know why, but the Great White Father did not send them all at once. Perhaps he had trouble finding as many as he wanted. But he sent what he had so you could at least have a few. When he finds the rest he will send them to you.”
War Heart responded, saying, “We must have all the cattle or we will know hunger. It is folly to know hunger in the summer. But the white men killed many buffalo and scared other herds away. All we have are these cows brought to us. These are not enough. We must have the others to get by until more buffalo come onto Kiwota land.” He scowled and looked directly into Devlin’s face. “Looks Ahead, we agreed not to leave the reservation. But the men of the People will not let their families starve.”
“I will see to this problem,” Devlin said. He knew that even if any of the warriors left the Buffalo Steppes with only hunting on their minds, other trouble could easily develop if they made contact with whites. “It will take a while.”
Running Wolf sneered, “How long is that to be, Looks Ahead?”
“I will be as fast as I can,” Devlin promised.
“When I see the first hungry child, I will leave this cursed reservation and take what I want where I want when I want anyway that I want,” Running Wolf said. “I have said this now.”
“All the young men will be angry,” War Heart said. He did not make the statement as a threat, only as a fact.
“You have promised to stay on the reservation,” Devlin reminded him.
“You have promised to give us enough cattle to eat and to keep whites off Kiwota land,” War Heart replied, also making a reminder.
“We have no reason to be angry with each other,” Devlin said. “Do you not see that I come alone? I did not bring soldiers. There is no reason to fight. Enough cattle will be given to you.”
“We will take what is here,” War Heart said. “These will not last long before they are eaten. I do not think it is a good idea to keep talking about this.”
He abruptly walked away toward the cattle, taking the other Kiwotas with him. Wheeler Coburn emerged from the trading post with the drovers behind him.
“Well, that calmed ’em down,” Coburn said.
Connors gestured to his men to get back to their horses. “Mount up, boys, we’re gonna skeddadle outta here afore our hair is hanging on some lodgepole.” He nodded to Devlin. “I’ll tell you something, Major. There ain’t no cattle of any kind back at Snelling. I don’t know how’n hell you’re gonna get any more for these Injuns.”
“All I can do is try,” Devlin said.
Connors shrugged. “Well, goodbye and good luck. You army folks and that Injun Bureau can take your jobs and send ’em to hell as far as I’m concerned. You ain’t gonna see me or my boys around here no more.”
Jeffries watched the drovers make a hasty exit. He shook his head, “I hope you got some kinda plan, Major.”
“I’ll have to dispatch a rider back to Fort Snelling with a message,” Devlin said. “Meanwhile, I’m going to have to put our garrison on alert. You and your wife might want to stay at Fort Buffalo for a spell. We have an empty house on soapsuds row.”
“I’ll take your advice and come in,” Jeffries said. “But no thanks on that empty house. It wouldn’t be as comfortable as our soddie, anyhow. Me and the woman can set up a tepee since it’s summer.”
“What about me?” Coburn asked.
“You’re right next to the fort,” Devlin pointed out.
“I’d rather be right in the fort,” Coburn said.
