Fort Larned (3 page)

   Corporal Niles Holling, Raymond Bates and Lucifer Crandall were among these men. Holling was a man of average build and light brown hair. A Civil War veteran with little education, he was in many ways, a typical infantryman of the 1860's. He was in the army because he liked it. When he wasn't drinking, he was considered a competent soldier. A man of little imagination, the drudgery of infantry life still beat the Pennsylvania coal mines that he had escaped when he left home to go to war. Although personally a courageous man, he was also a man capable of great cruelty and was generally considered a bully. It had been his bullying tactics while off duty at McClausky's that had caused his run-in with Collier several days before. Holling resented Collier. Collier, a civilian scout, enjoyed many privileges that the common soldier did not. It had come to a head with Holling trying to bulldog Collier out of a drink. Before it was over, Holling found himself flat on his back on the ground in front of McClausky's with still another reason to resent Collier. Bates and Crandall were men of similar backgrounds and talents. They were friends because the rigid social order of military life forced them to be. Looked down upon by officers and resented by many troopers of lower rank, they held their troop together. Although a problem for the sergeants in some ways, they were essential in carrying out the orders and duties of a frontier post.

   Collier's saddled horse, tied to a barracks post, did not escape their attention as they formed ranks in front of the building. Neither did the new Remington rifle hanging from the saddle. The expensive rifle was out of reach for these men who earned sixteen dollars a month and who were constantly in debt to McClausky since paydays were few and far between.

   "Look at that, Crandall. What do you think that thing cost Collier?" Holling asked, barely able to hide his envy.

   "I don't know. It's more than we can afford."

   Crandall's dull witted reply only made Holling more envious.

   "Check out the trail to Sand Point and come on back. I'd like to make it there by sundown tomorrow," Roberts told Collier as they left the barracks.

***

Collier walked past Holling without comment or recognition. Roberts stopped. "Holling, check out those recruits and make sure that they have everything."

   "Right, Sergeant." Holling said as he turned toward the men but continued to eye Collier.

   Collier swung into the saddle and reined up the dark bay. "You should make the Arkansas by this evening. I'll meet you there." His eyes cut to Holling and met the corporal's look of resentment. "We gonna have trouble, or what?"

   Holling answered bitterly, "We're gonna have trouble. I ain't forgetting that sucker punch."

   Collier held up the bay and leaned forward in the saddle. "Holling, that weren't no sucker punch. Any time you need another lesson, you just let me know."

   Holling smiled. "Oh, I will, mister. Real soon."

   As Collier rode by the officers' housing on the west side of the square, he saw Captain Davis standing at the board walk in front of his house. Collier gave Davis a leisurely salute which was returned in a similar fashion. The sun was just beginning to break the horizon as he rode past the commissary and saw the freight wagons waiting on the trail for their escort. Nell Baker sitting in the third wagon from the front. John Neill was sitting in the front wagon keeping the six mules easy as he waited for the army escort wagons. A double barreled shotgun poked down butt first into the wagon box.

   "Are they about ready?" Neill asked.

   "Yes, sir. They are loading up in the wagons now." Collier answered.

   "You going on ahead?" Neill asked in a friendly manner.

   "I'm going to check things out. I'll see you this evening at camp." He put the bay into a gallop. It pitched a couple of times then settled down and moved off toward the southwest.

   Nell Baker did not miss Collier's exit from the post. She had been watching for the soldiers and was surprised to see Collier ride out from behind the commissary. She noticed how easily he sat in the saddle and moved with his horse. She smiled as she thought of this contrast to his awkwardness at the blockhouse when they first met.

   Nathan Baker, working with his team on the ground, noticed her smile. "What you smiling about?"

   She didn't answer but rather turned her eyes downward into the wagon box and her feet.

   Baker looked over his shoulder from the team that he was lining out and saw Collier riding away. He glared at the woman and said harshly, "I should have guessed. You'll stay away from him if you know what's good for you."

   "I was just enjoying the morning, Nathan," she said.

   He stepped up into the wagon seat beside her and squeezed her arm until she squirmed from the pain. "And, I said you had best stay away from him. Do you understand?"

   She replied in an emotionless tone that he had come to expect from her. A tone that went far beyond the way she spoke to him. "I understand." She had been married to Nathan for only two years but the coldness she felt toward him, soured their every moment together. She had been pregnant once, but his abuse had caused her to lose the child. There would be no more. In her mind and body, she had closed the man out.

   The Company C escort wagons rolled out of the square and started southwest toward the Arkansas River, twenty-five miles away. John Neill started his team in behind the troop wagons. As Nathan Baker started his team, Nell noticed that she could barely make out Collier as he dropped below the horizon.

   The Kansas dawn broke golden and still as the teamsters and infantrymen started on the journey to Fort Dodge.

   A lone Cheyenne brave hid along the banks of the Pawnee River. He counted the wagons and the men. He made mental notes of the condition of each of the wagons and the firepower of the entire group. Once they had passed, he quietly made his way back along the river to the west away from the fort. Once he was clear, he put his pony into a gallop.

His scout to the Arkansas was uneventful. A few antelope, early in the morning, and mule deer moving along the river, had been the only living things he had seen. He had reached Sand Point in the early afternoon and stopped to rest the bay before starting back. It was a perfect place to try out the new rifle. He had tied the rifle to his saddle horn with a leather thong. He drew the rifle from the grazing bay and looked south across the Arkansas for a likely target. The Remington was not so muzzle heavy as the Plains rifle and it was a much more streamlined weapon. He thumbed back the hammer and the breech block then inserted a long .50-70 cartridge into the chamber. He drew down on a clump of sand love grass and yucca growing on the edge of one of the bluffs on the far shore of the river. He guessed the distance to be about one hundred and fifty yards. He adjusted the Vernier sight, sat down on the sandy bank and took careful aim. His first shot was short but dead on. He adjusted the sights to elevate a bit more and placed a second round in the rifle. With his second shot, he watched a section of yucca fall as the bullet cut through it. He was pleased with the rifle's accuracy but surprised at its recoil. The advantage of the new rifle was obvious, especially to a man who spent so much of his time on the trail alone. It definitely shot harder than the muzzle loader but he could reload it so much faster.

   He fired a third round and smiled as another section fell from the yucca. He returned to his mount admiring his new rifle. He tightened the cinch of his saddle and hung the rifle from the saddle horn. As he gathered up the reins and swung into the saddle, he noticed a flash of light reflected from the hill opposite the river. Collier suspected that he was being watched. He eased himself down from the bay carefully keeping the horse between himself and the hill. He worked his mount toward a struggling willow growing along the banks of the sand bar. As he moved, a second flash from the hilltop caught his attention.
"They've got a rifle on us, pony,"
Collier said grimly.
"Let's see how bold they
are."

   He cut his eyes along both sides of the river to see if he was being flanked.. He fished out his spyglass from his saddle bag and scanned the hill. Whatever had caused the flash was gone.
"They know that I saw them,"
he said quietly.
"Might as well check things
out."

   According to the Medicine Lodge treaty, the area south of the Arkansas was Indian territory and the river was commonly called the "Dead Line" by whites. Indian movement south of the river could be expected but Collier needed to get the feel of what was going on. He remounted his horse and forded the river. The river was wide and the gelding had to swim for several yards through the deepest channel. As he started up the south bank, Collier pulled his Colt and worked up the sand hill warily. He found sign where two Indians had watched him from the hill top. At the base of the hill were pony tracks leading south. He scanned the thousands of hills before him. The rolling sand and grass was a maze for most men and few rode into them alone. He had very little to gain and everything to lose by following any further. He decided to report to Roberts and let him make the decisions. He turned the horse north to the river and recrossed.

   Four hundred and fifty Cheyenne warriors quietly waited in a draw on the other side of the ridge. The war chief, Elk Heart, listened to his scout's report. The scout felt that he had been seen but he did not believe that the blue shirt knew of the main band waiting in the hills. Elk Heart pondered on the report then made his decision. Probably the scout did not know the existence of his men. The wagons would come and they would strike on the morrow. If not, they would find them and make other plans. His men were not to follow the blue shirt. They knew where he was and where he would probably be. That was enough for the moment.

***

Collier's report to Roberts that evening was not what Roberts wanted to hear. Collier felt that there were hostiles about but he had no clear evidence of large numbers. Roberts knew that Collier was seldom wrong. Roberts decided to go on to Sand Point. He ordered one of his corporals to be on guard duty with each shift. He turned his attention to seeing that Collier was fed. A plate of beans with a pitiful amount of pork fat thrown in greeted Collier for his evening meal. As he ate, he noticed the Baker camp on the opposite side of the circled wagons. He did not see the woman but was aware of her presence.

   John Neill joined them at the camp fire. He seemed eager to make conversation.

   "What do you know about those two?" Collier asked pointing to the Baker camp.

    "Storekeeper from Missouri. Wants to open a store in Santa Fe. Keeps to himself. Doesn't like anyone talking to his wife."

   "Yeah, I could tell. What do you know about her?" Collier asked.

   "Seems nice enough. I really don't know. Baker keeps her close to him. Doesn't tolerate much contact."

   Roberts remembered the confrontation between Baker and Collier. "What's it to you?".

   Collier placed his plate on the ground. "Just curious."

   "About them or about her? Listen, boy, married women are nothing but trouble, no matter how attractive they might be. It's women like that one that'll really get you in trouble."

   Collier smiled and kicked the dirt with the heel of his boot. "Don't worry, Mother. I don't need more than one guy wanting to slit my throat at a time. Holling is enough."

   Roberts eyes narrowed. "Mother, huh? Well, smart guy, I'll remember that when you're in the guard house."

   Collier rose to his feet. "You're right, Chunk. It really wasn't fair of me to call you, Mother." He grinned and started walking away. "Grandma fits you better."

   Where are you going now?"

   "To check the pickets, and pay my respects to Mrs. Baker."

   Roberts looked at Neill and shook his head. "Can you believe this guy? I think he thrives on it."

   Collier walked up to the Baker camp as though he had been invited with a broad smile on his face. "Good evening, Mrs. Baker. I hope things went well for you today."

   Baker came to his feet, his fists clenched, his knees locked. "What do you want?"

   Collier looked the woman in the eyes. "I just wanted to pay my respects to the lady and see if everything had gone well today."

   "That's my affair. Not yours."

   He kept his attention aimed at Nell. "I was wondering if you were alright, ma'am."

   Nell smiled. "I'm fine, Mr. Collier. Things went very well today, thank you."

   "That's good, ma'am. If any problem develops, feel free to let me know. I'll be only too glad to help."

   "Thank you, sir. You are most gracious."

   Collier turned to Baker. His eyes narrowed. "Any problem at all, ma'am. Any problem at all."

   Baker was silent. He would wait until Collier was gone. Then he would show her. He would show her so this sort of thing never happened again.

   "I'll see you again, Mrs. Baker. Good evening." He tipped his hat and walked on into the darkness. He chuckled as he thought of Baker's anger. As he checked his horse, he thought of her. He knew that his attraction to the woman wasn't smart but she seemed too fine a woman to be treated like property. He shrugged and turned toward camp.

   Three men were silhouetted between him and the light of camp. He recognized them as Holling, Bates and Crandall.

   "Collier, it's time you and me finished things." Holling said as a Bowie knife gleamed in his right hand."

Crandall drifted to the right away from Holling while Bates stepped to the left. Holling, in the center, came a step toward Collier. His knife flashed in his hand. "I figure it's time somebody whittles you down to size."