Fort Larned (7 page)

   "I'll give her a few minutes to make certain she's dead then I'll go down and cut us a piece of meat."

   "What about the others?"

   "They should take off when I make a commotion."

   "Why didn't they run when you shot?"

   "If an animal doesn't make too big a fuss when it's shot, the others don't realize what's happening. A good shot can kill many if he knows what he's doing before a herd will get wise and take off. It's called a stand."

   "Strange, isn't it? An animal as big as that can be so vulnerable."

   "I suppose so. It's a good thing for us. We can use the meat. It's hard to say when we might get another chance at a meal between here and the Fox place."

   It took another shot for Lane to put the buffalo away. He dug a shallow pit with his knife and built a fire of dried buffalo chips. He placed a haunch of buffalo meat directly in the fire and turned it with his knife . . .

   "Have you ever cooked like this before?"

   Collier smiled. "Looks terrible, doesn't it?"

   She nodded.

   "Yeah, you do the best ya can with what you've got. It'll be all right. I've done this several times."

   "How long have you been out here?" she asked.

   "I was born on the Santa Fe Trail. My father was a bull whacker from Missouri. My mother was a half-Pawnee daughter of an old time fur trader. She died of the pox when I was very young. I don't know what happened to my father.

"Who raised you?"

   "I lived with the Pawnee for a while with my mother's sister then became a cook's Mary at Fort Scott. An army cook by the name of Doolin raised me. I guess I grew up an army brat. I drifted into this business because I knew Pawnee and was a fair tracker. The army was short-handed during the war."

   Nell watched Collier as he turned the meat again. It looked burned. "What are your plans for the future?"

   "I don't know. Right now, getting out of this mess alive is number one."

   "Are we still in danger?"

   "We've got at least twenty miles to go to the Fox place. No one can say what is between here and there."

   "But, the food and the cooking. I thought maybe you felt the danger was passed."

   "Out here, you learn early to take advantage of a situation when it comes your way. There's thousands of buffalo out there and a dead cow with more meat than we could eat in three months. As quick as those buffalo appeared, they can be gone. There may not be another mouthful of food till we get there except what I have in my bags. If things turn bad or one of us gets hurt, we could be days covering those twenty miles. Neither of us has had a decent meal in two days. Right now that's more important than Cheyenne."

   "I'm sorry, Lane. I just thought"

   "Don't be sorry. People from the East don't realize what it's like out here. If they did, most would never come out here in the first place. There isn't any way of preparing someone for how hard this country can be."

   "Even you?"

   "I've been out here all my life. I thought I had seen about everything. Never have I seen anything like that massacre at the river. You take advantage when a chance for survival comes or you don't make it."

   Nell placed the Colt in her lap.

   "There you go! You're learning. In no time you'll be a real pioneer woman of the Plains."

   "Not hardly. I never want to see this country again."

   "Looks like its time to eat."

   "It looks burned up to me."

   "Well, lady, you're in for the surprise of your life." He stuck the meat and lifted it out of the smoldering fire. He laid it on the ground and cut off the burned crust. He cut a hunk of the meat and offered it. "Don't be shy. Table manners don't count for much out here."

   She couldn't believe how good the meat was, a bit overdone on the outside, perfect in the center. She tried to be careful but she was so hungry that soon she forgot impressing Collier with her manners.

   He watched her eat in her torn, soiled dress, floppy army hat with a revolver in her lap. She was beautiful.

She ate more meat than ever before in her life. When she was finished, Collier suggested that she relax for a while. He knew that she needed the rest. She was asleep before she realized what was happening. She slept so soundly that Collier checked her once. He wrapped the meat in a cloth and placed it in his bag. He reckoned it to be mid-afternoon. Another hour passed before Collier noticed a thunder head building rapidly. He shook her.

   She was slow to awaken. When she did, she was apologetic. "I'm sorry, Lane. I didn't realize."

   "Never mind. I'd have let you sleep all day if it wasn't for the storm."

   She looked to the west. "Are you sure?"

   "Sure enough. We'll need more cover than this. We'll need a bank or ridge for some protection. It sure ain't here on this hill top."

   She was on her feet. She couldn't believe how much better she felt. The food and the rest were a Godsend. However, she felt guilty for holding him back.

   They started again, making better time. They had gone no more than five miles when her legs began to stiffen.

   "How are you doing?" Collier asked.

   "I'm all right, Lane. Just a little stiff."

   Collier looked to the west and above. A blue-black thunder head was building very rapidly. The leading edge was already above them. The nearly constant south wind had ceased and a much cooler westerly breeze was building with the approach of the storm. No cover could be found. They could see only gently rolling grassy hills in any direction. A great black wall was now hiding the late afternoon sun.

   "I'm in good shape," Nell said. Don't worry about me. I can make it."

   He shook his head. "I'm concerned for both of us. Look at that storm."

   "I'm not made of sugar. I will be all right.".

   "No! Look at that white cloud swirling inside the blue. Feel the air. Notice the cold."

   "So?" She looked to him for explanation.

   "There's hail in that storm. Out here with no cover, hail can kill!"

   She turned again toward the clouds. A wispy white cloud was gently rotating against the dark background of rain. It was strangely ghost-like, nonthreatening. "What do we do?"

   Collier looked at a slight rise to the west. It wasn't much but it was all that they had. "We dig in!"

   Nell wondered if Collier wasn't overreacting but she wasn't going to argue. If Collier wanted to dig in, then she would dig in.

   He ran to the gentle slope and started pulling at the grass. He took a knife from his saddle bags and handed it to her. He drew his own knife and frantically dug. She joined in with equal vigor. The roaring wind rose from the west. Lightning flashes and thunder rose dramatically. Occasional large drops of extremely cold rain began to fall. It wasn't long until they had formed a six-inch ledge into the side of the hill.

   The rain came behind a great roaring gust of wind. Nell lost her hat and ran it down. She hadn't gone more than thirty yards and yet it was raining so hard that she could barely see Collier waving her back to the ledge.

   The roaring and the cold were intense as she made her way back to him. He took her in his arms and placed her lying face down against the ledge. He laid beside her, seemingly crushing her against the ledge and placed his saddle bags and placed them over their heads. "Hold it close to your head! It's all the protection we have! Don't let the bags off your head no matter what!"

   Hail stones pelted them like rocks. As the first hail stone hit her hip, she jerked in pain and cried out. Collier placed his leg over hers. She felt him flinching as the stones struck. It wasn't marble sized hail that she had knew, but jagged chunks of ice. A large stone struck the saddle bag over her head and felt like someone had hit her with a fist. Collier grunted in pain. Nell struggled to contain her cries. She was afraid that she was going to lose consciousness.

   "Please God! Make it stop!" She prayed.

   As suddenly as the hail came, it was gone. She felt Collier's body relax against her. His arm was laying over her. She reached for his hand.

   "How are you?" She asked.

   "I'm alive. God! I didn't know how much more I could take." He rolled away from her and tried to sit.

   Rain fell steadily. She helped him work his way against the ledge. He was favoring his right arm, holding it with his left.

   "Is it bad?" She asked, a steady stream of water was running off the brim of her hat.

   "I don't think so. I got hit in the elbow. It's just painful."

   She looked to the ground. Large, jagged, apple-sized ice crystals were in front and around them. She picked one up.

   "It's a good thing we had those saddle bags," Collier sighed. "Those damned things would have killed us if they had hit us in the head."

   "What more can happen? How much can we take?" she said in misery.

   Collier drew her close, drawing and giving warmth to her body. "I'm afraid we're in for a long night."

   "Thank God. You're all right. I don't know what I would have done."

   "You would have gone on. You would have survived. That's what you would have done." Collier held her closer.

   It was the longest, most miserable night of her life. Getting comfortable was impossible. She was cold, wet and stiff. She hated this country. How could anyone want to stay out here? She cursed it under her breath. God! She hated Kansas! She thought of the house that she had left in Missouri, her warm bed and her family. She hated Nathan for bringing her out to this place. What a son-of-a-bitch he was! She was glad that he was dead. Surely he was dead. Why couldn't he be out here instead of her?

   The raining finally stopped shortly before sunrise. When the sun came up, the cloud cover quickly covered it. Collier retrieved a piece of buffalo meat, cut a large chunk and gave it to her.

   She noticed that he was having problems with stiffness in his arm. "You're hurting pretty badly, aren't you?"

   "I'll be all right." He took a bite of the meat. "We need to get moving. We'll never get warm sitting here."

   She forced herself to stand with Collier's help. The pain of her stiff joints nagged at her. "How far?" She asked.

   "Far enough." He handed her the Colt revolver and started off across the prairie. Gentle drizzle felt warm compared to her wet clothes.

   He held her hand. "Come on, Nell. It isn't that far."

   His warm hand felt good. She took courage and followed.

It was midday before the sun came out. They rested and finished the meat. She felt better the longer she walked and after her clothing dried, she did well. Her feet were sore from wet shoes. She removed them while they rested. Although he was stiff and sore, his spirits were lifting as they neared the Fox ranch. Collier told of the time that he had helped with the birth of the Fox's youngest, a little girl with coal black hair, named Annie. He described Ellen Fox as a brave, solid woman. Nell experienced jealousy as he talked. She realized how important he was to her. He was a good, caring man. She compared how different he was from Nathan. He could be a good husband. She had a farm in St. Joe. They could make a good life together if he would settle for it. She didn't know. He seemed infatuated with the plains and seemed to thrive on its challenges. Her thoughts drifted to Nathan. What if he wasn't dead? If he had survived, there was no place for him with her, Lane Collier or not, she wouldn't accept his abuse again.

   They walked on as the sky cleared. After several hours he stopped and pointed toward low hills before them. "We're almost there. It's just over the rise."

   They raced to the top of the hill and saw the homestead nestled in the basin. The place was much smaller than she expected. Mostly dugouts, it was set in the side of a gentle hill. A small sod barn with simple corrals were below. She started down the hill but Collier took hold of her arm.

   His expression was cold and hard. "Something's wrong."

   She studied the ranch. The corrals were empty. The gate was open. The form of a body lay about halfway between the house and barn, near the well. Her lips trembled. Her stomach felt empty, sick.

   "You'd better stay here. I'll check things out," he said.

   "No, I'll go along."

   "It could be bad."

   "I can handle it."

   As they approached, they realized that they scalped the body.

   "Do you know him?" she asked.

   "No, must be a hired man." He went on toward the house. He cocked his rifle and stepped into the open door.

   She waited and watched. It was stone silent.

   Collier was in the house for several minutes. He came out, leaned his rifle against the wall and sat on the ground next to the doorway. She approached cautiously. He looked up at her. His eyes were red, his face dark. "Dead, all dead. They've stolen the little girl."

   "I'm so sorry."

   "They'll need burying. I'd like to clean them up a little first."

   "Of course, I'll help all I can."

   The dugout smelled of gunpowder and blood. They had not scalped the woman like the rest. There was a bullet hole her left temple, and black powder burns around it. No weapon was near but no weapons were present anywhere. The Indians had taken them. They had looted the house but it was mostly as it should have been for normal daily activity. Clothing and household articles were scattered throughout the room. The body of a large bearded man was near the door. They had scalped him but not otherwise mutilated his body. It was nothing like the mutilations at the river.