Lords of the Plains Read online

  Cody viewed the gleaming weapon with hungry eyes. ‘What say you give me that, so I can show it to him?’

  Despite the warmth in the air, I could feel a chill settle over me. ‘Nah, happen not. I killed a man for this gun, so I reckon I’ll hang on to it.’

  ‘Just as you like,’ he replied, his disappointment obvious. ‘But you can rely on me. I’ll be sure and tell him everything.’

  The wounded skinner moaned even more loudly, and I glanced at his boss enquiringly. ‘He sounds in a bad way. Anything we can do to help?’

  ‘Nah, he’ll be right,’ came the dismissive reply. ‘Bullet went straight through the fleshy part of his arm. It’s nought but a scratch. The sawbones at the railhead’ll fix him up, and he’ll be back working tomorrow.’

  From the amount of blood coating the bandage, it looked far more than any scratch, but I’d suddenly had enough of this loudmouth and was keen to be off. ‘You be sure to tell Casement exactly what occurred,’ I urged Cody insistently. ‘It’s important that he knows we’re doing our job out here.’

  The buckskinned figure laughed just a little too long and a little too loud for my taste. ‘Don’t you trouble yourself, Joe. I won’t go stealing your glory.’ With that, he turned to his men, none of whom had so far uttered a word, and remarked, ‘You got plenty of cutting up to do, boys. You don’t want to be here come nightfall, ’cause we won’t have Mister Wakefield to protect us!’

  Dan waited until we were well out of sight, before putting the question. ‘You think he’ll tell Casement exactly how it happened?’

  I didn’t have to give that any thought at all. ‘I think he’ll tell him exactly what suits Buffalo Bill. That’s what I think. The man’s a glory hunter, just like some of those generals in the war. I remember a fella, name of Custer, with his long curls and fancy uniforms. What a blowhard he was!’

  ‘So why don’t we go back to the railhead as well?’ Dan asked with obvious eagerness.

  ‘Because there’s a mighty fresh trail to follow over yonder. If we can find out where their camp is, we’ll have a hell of a lot more to tell the track boss. And it would be very useful if we could find out who is supplying these rifles to the Sioux.’

  ‘OK, OK,’ Dan reluctantly agreed. ‘But I’m powerful hungry, and this tongue’s weighing heavy on me. Let’s stop soon and cook it, ’cause there’s no way we want to be showing firelight once darkness falls.’

  There was plenty of sense in that, and in truth I was hungry, too, but first I wanted to cover some more distance. I knew that if we kept heading south, we would eventually reach the Little Blue River. Somewhere along its course I hoped to find the Indian encampment . . . without getting too close to it. Failing that, the next river of any size was the Republican, but that was almost into Kansas and would take us much too far from the railhead. After all, our job was also to act as lookout and forewarn of any raiding parties threatening the Union Pacific. We sure as hell couldn’t do that if we weren’t even in Nebraska Territory.

  The keenly anticipated buffalo tongue, boiled to perfection over a small fire, had tasted every bit as good as Dan had promised. He had very generously shared it with me, and after supplementing it with a plentiful helping of the frontier staple of beans we had both eaten our fill. A piping hot mug of coffee apiece had rounded off a perfect meal, and we welcomed the prospect of a good night’s shuteye. With darkness falling, I kicked out the fire and laid out my bedroll. Of necessity it was to be a cold camp, but that would be no hardship in such mild conditions.

  Dan peered at me curiously in the gathering gloom. ‘Just what are your intentions if we find this Sioux camp? My ma didn’t raise me just to end up staked out on the prairie with my pecker in my mouth, you know. I’ve heard the nightmare stories about these heathens, just like you have.’

  I sighed. ‘Don’t it ever occur to you that they might have good reason to hate us? They were here first, you know.’ I paused to see if he would comment on that, but he didn’t choose to. ‘Well, anyhu, I figure that once we find them, if we find them, we hightail it back to the railhead. I’m no hero, and we’ll have done what we’ve been paid to. My spyglass should help me to see how many are toting repeaters. After that, it’ll be up to General Dodge as to . . .’ The faintest of sounds registered with me and I froze.

  Dan made to start speaking, but I waved him to silence. Straining to hear, I could just make out something that wasn’t the wind. Thankfully the darkness was now almost complete, because whatever was out there seemed to be coming our way. I just prayed that there weren’t any residual cooking smells in the air. Then gradually I began to make out the rattling of moving parts. That could only indicate a wagon. But who the hell would be travelling with one across the plains during the night?

  ‘See to your horse,’ I hissed at my companion.

  The last thing we needed was to be given away by our own animals. Nothing was visible through the murk, but there could be no mistaking the fact that the vehicle appeared to be moving directly towards us.

  ‘Christ!’ I muttered half to myself. ‘Out of the whole northern plains, they have to pick this spot.’ Yet even as I spoke, a possible reason occurred to me, and for the second time in as many days an unpleasant chill settled on me. I contemplated drawing my revolver, but decided against it. The last thing I wanted was another fight on my hands. Far better to just let them go about their business.

  The creaking and clatter got louder and louder, until I was convinced that the unidentified newcomers must surely blunder into us. To my overburdened senses, the great heft of the wagon and its contents was almost palpable. Although gently stroking my animal’s forehead, I nevertheless kept an iron grip on its muzzle. Somehow feeling my disquiet, it shifted restlessly. And then, like ships in the night, they were past us without either side even seeing each other. As the noise began to recede, I distinctly heard a harsh voice proclaim, ‘Those goddamn savages had better not have moved camp!’

  If he received a reply to that, I did not hear it, but the implications were breathtaking and confirmed my earlier notion. As the sounds of the heavy vehicle gradually dissipated, I came to a snap decision. ‘Pack up your possibles,’ I ordered softly. ‘We’re gonna follow those sons of bitches. They obviously know where they’re going, which is certainly more than we do!’

  Dan was aghast. ‘But we don’t even know who they are. They could lead us clean down to Mexico!’

  It was true that I was acting on a hunch, but something told me that it was a sure bet. ‘It can’t be a coincidence that they just happen to be travelling in the same direction as both us and that war party. Which suggests to me that they’re intending to do a little trading with the Sioux, and ain’t it a fact that those same fellas have suddenly come into better weapons than you’re toting?’

  The logic of my argument was undeniable, even though my young friend would quite obviously rather be wrapped up in his bedroll. But then for that matter, so would I, except that, as ever, something was pushing me that bit harder than my more laid-back companion. Which was probably why I was the one earning ten dollars a day!

  With the bedrolls and cooking utensils packed away we were ready to be off, but this would be far from any kind of chase. Once back in earshot of the rattling conveyance, we would be following on foot. That would be fast enough to keep pace with the mysterious strangers, without risking injury to our mounts. And so once again we set off into the unknown, only this time we knew for a fact that we weren’t alone. It was also true that we could well be about to enter a world of hurt!

  Chapter Five

  ‘Sweet Jesus! Will you look at that lot?’ exclaimed Dan with a mixture of fear and amazement.

  The two of us were belly down in the long grass, gazing in astonishment at the huge native encampment stretching out before our very eyes. Scores and scores of tipis were situated along the northern bank of the Little Blue River. The hide coverings were colourfully daubed with various unintelligible symbols. A huge extended
pony herd grazed in the lush grass growing by the side of the sparkling watercourse. Conveniently nearby was a large stand of trees, providing fuel for heat and light. It was quite obvious that the well-chosen and stunningly scenic location provided perfectly for all the Sioux’s basic needs. Far from any white settlements, they appeared to feel totally secure, because there were no visible sentries, and only a few mangy dogs available to raise the alarm.

  It was well after first light, and so wisps of smoke drifted up from many cooking fires. A strong instinct for self-preservation meant that the wagon’s occupants had waited until the camp was up and about before rolling into view. There were three of them, and at first glance all were strangers to me, although the distance was too great for me to discern their features accurately. Now, as they unloaded a variety of wooden crates to the ground, they seemed to be the centre of attention for every warrior and child of the tribe.

  ‘We’ve struck pay dirt here, all right,’ I responded quietly.

  In truth I was stunned by the overall magnitude of our discovery. Extending my drawtube spyglass, I settled it on the merchandise that we had been following throughout the night. As the white men levered open a couple of crates, it was obvious that they weren’t there to trade blankets, beads and cooking pots. Their stock was of a far more lethal nature. From one box came a Henry rifle, and from the other a jug that could only have contained strong liquor. These traders were very obviously looking to get rich on other people’s misery!

  It was soon apparent that Dan Sturgis felt that he had seen enough. ‘Right. Well that’s that then,’ he whispered in my ear. ‘This is the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. With news like this, we should be good for a bonus. Let’s make tracks while they’re all busy.’

  The only problem with that suggestion was that an idea of pure madness had just swept over me. Keeping my head down, I turned to my friend. ‘Don’t it make you wonder just how those traders were able to travel here in safety?’

  A sick look came into Dan’s eyes. He should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy. ‘Well, obviously they have things that the Sioux want,’ he ventured.

  ‘Yeah, but how did they make first contact without having their scalps lifted? You’ve seen what happens whenever those Indians encounter a white man.’

  With a visibly sinking heart, my companion replied quietly, ‘I don’t know the answer to that.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ I retorted. ‘But I’m damn well going to find out!’

  Dan groaned. ‘I knew I should have asked Cody for a job. Thinking on that wound, I’d say he’s gonna be a man short for a while.’

  I favoured him with what I hoped was a winsome smile, and patted his right forearm. ‘You’d be lost without me . . . and I without you. Besides, you’d soon have tired of that Cody’s big mouth, and butchering critters is an awful job. I know. I tried it.’

  ‘All right, all right, I’m with you! Just don’t go all mushy on me.’ He paused before emitting a deep sigh. ‘I suppose you’ve got a plan. You always seem to.’

  He’d wrong-footed me with that one, because I hadn’t actually considered how we were going to proceed. And yet, thinking about it, there wasn’t really a great deal to chew over.

  ‘It’s a pretty simple one, I guess. Once they’re well clear of that camp, we jump them, and try to take at least one alive.’ Something specific had occurred to me though. ‘One thing: we’ll have to keep watch on them until they leave, ’cause we don’t really know where they’ve come from, and we certainly don’t know where they’re going.’ Deep down, I knew that achieving all that would be a great deal harder than saying it!

  It was noon the following day before the traders finally bid their farewells. They had obviously been benefiting from tribal hospitality, whereas our long vigil had been far less pleasant. Even though stationed well back from the encampment, we had needed to be constantly on the alert for any travellers, especially during the daylight hours. At night, we had managed to sleep fitfully, sharing the watch keeping equally. Food had been a mixture of beef jerky and pemmican, washed down with water from our canteens. Now, at last, it appeared that our waiting was over, and that we were to discover which direction the traders would take.

  For some time they had been loading up the wagon with vast numbers of animal hides, and a variety of strange looking blocks, the composition of which completely baffled me. The final object to be handed up definitely made me blink with surprise, especially as it took two men to do it. Even seen through indifferent lenses at great distance, there could be no mistaking a metal-bound strongbox!

  Glancing at my companion, I muttered, ‘They just loaded a strongbox into the wagon.’

  Dan peered at me incredulously. ‘What the hell would Indians be doing with a strongbox?’

  ‘Well, I recall Dodge saying that one had been carried off in a raid,’ I replied. ‘If you ask me, this is all getting pretty murky! It’s almost as though . . .’

  My speech abruptly ceased, as the wagon, drawn by a team of four oxen, pulled out of the Sioux encampment moving east and following the course of the river. Its heading momentarily gave me pause, until suddenly the penny dropped. ‘Of course!’ I exclaimed. ‘They’re making for the Missouri River. Once there, they’ve got paddle steamers to take them anywhere.’

  ‘Unless we stop them first,’ Dan added with noticeable resignation.

  ‘And that’s exactly what we’re going to do,’ I announced, energy suddenly coursing through my body. I’d very definitely had enough of lying in the damn grass. ‘We’ll back off aways, and then swing around to the northeast so that we get ahead of them. That shouldn’t be difficult, with the weight they’re hauling in that wagon.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘Then you get to play dead.’

  I had to hand it to Dan; he made an excellent corpse. His twisted body gave every indication of having suffered a lethal fall from his horse. That creature grazed peacefully nearby, oblivious to the apparent demise of its owner. Hopefully, the sight of such a prize would bring the approaching traders to a halt, but I was painfully aware that my friend had agreed to run a great risk. Such men were unlikely to possess any finer feelings.

  I was lying prone on a reverse slope, with my rifle barrel poking through the grass, some thirty yards from the human bait. As the heavily laden vehicle finally came into view, I checked and double-checked the Sharps. I knew that there was likely to be some killing, but genuinely hoped to avoid it. As I had said to Dan, as I reluctantly left him in harm’s way, ‘Don’t forget, we need at least one screamer.’

  To my fevered mind, it seemed to take an age for the wagon to close in, but even then it abruptly pulled up some fifty yards from Dan’s lifeless figure. The three men on the bench seat peered long and hard at the unexpected scene. Then they carefully scrutinised their surroundings and even their back trail, before cautiously advancing. They clutched a variety of weapons, including a sawn-off shotgun, which immediately made me question the wisdom of my scheme. Such a gun could be horrendously destructive at close range, and Dan would have no chance of avoiding its lethal contents. And yet we were well past the point of no return.

  At a far slower pace this time, the wagon rattled nearer. Sighting down the Sharps’ barrel, I watched intently for any aggressive movement. With my only friend in the world prostrated before the suspicious Indian traders, I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead. Then, when the lead oxen were mere feet away from Dan, they drew to a halt. Our intention was that when one of the men climbed down to investigate, the ‘dead man’ would turn and confront him, whilst I covered the others. What actually happened was that one of the men stood up, pointed his revolver directly at Dan and retracted the hammer to full cock!

  As the gunhand made some sidelong comment to his companions and sniggered, I swore vividly and took rapid aim. After squeezing both triggers hard, I had the breechblock lowered before the smoke had even completely cleared. My victim’s head exploded like
a ripe melon, and his suddenly lifeless body toppled over the side, to land next to one of the large front wheels. Before his cronies had time to react, Dan twisted around to cover them with his cocked revolver. Not anticipating such a move, the man with the shotgun was facing my position, which was definitely the wrong way when armed with such a close quarter weapon. Even though faced with a fait accompli, his companion foolishly tried his hand anyway. As the trader attempted to draw a bead on him, Dan fired. The ball struck the man in his right shoulder, causing him to drop his rifle as though it was suddenly red-hot. That left only the individual with the sawn-off.

  Rising slightly into view, I called over to him. ‘You’ll need to get a whole lot closer to me than that, to make that scatter gun pay for its freight!’

  The big fellow, who was in fact a magnificent looking character, albeit a half-breed, stared long and hard at me. Then he glanced down at Dan, who had his revolver ready, and finally, with obvious reluctance lowered both hammers and pointed his weapon at the ground. With enormous relief, I clambered to my feet and cautiously approached the wagon. Our wagon!

  ‘You! Big man. Climb down off of there,’ I commanded. ‘Then place the crowd pleaser on the ground and step away from it. Real easy now.’

  Only after he had done that did my heartbeat begin to slow. ‘You OK, Dan?’ I called over.

  ‘Never better,’ came the reply. ‘But you sure do take some chances with my life!’

  I chuckled appreciatively. ‘Yeah, well, I’ll try not to make it a habit.’ Glancing at the body on the far side of the wagon, I asked, ‘Is that cuss dead, or just copying you?’

  The answer was unequivocal. ‘Dead as a wagon tyre. His head’s blown six ways from Sunday.’

  ‘The hell with him,’ the wounded man suddenly wailed. Blood coated his jacket, and his bearded features registered genuine anguish. ‘What about my shoulder? It’s hurting something awful. You’d no cause to do this to me. I’ve never set eyes on either of you in my life.’