Bittersweet Ecstasy (12 page)

“Yep, it’s that alright. What’s your name, stranger?”

“I’m Tanner Gaston, and that there is Clay Rivera. Me and his pa’s been partners for nigh unto forty years.”

The man extended his hand and responded, “Good to meet you. I’m Edward Jackson, but most call me Jacks.”

“Who’s in command here, Jacks?” Powchutu inquired.

“Right now, Major Gerald Butler, but we’re expecting a big general next month, Phillip Cooper. Won’t be none too soon if you asked me,” he remarked, then glanced around to make sure they were alone before confiding, “When the colonel took sick and died, Butler only outranked Major Ames by two months, and Bill thinks he’s better qualified than Gerald. They
been fussing for months over how to whip those Sioux into line before General Cooper arrives. The other officers are split down the middle on loyalty. Wouldn’t surprise me none if Major Ames met with an accident, if you know what I mean. If it’s up to Captain Smith and Captain Rochelle, he won’t live to meet General Cooper to complain. If I was Major William Ames, I would watch my back real careful like. Which is what you fellers better do when Butler goes charging after them Sioux and stirrin’ ‘em up again.”

“Why doesn’t Major Butler wait for this General Cooper’s arrival to see how he wants to handle the problem, if there is one? We haven’t noticed any trouble since we got here.”

“That’s because they just got spring stirrings in their guts. They’ll be heading out of them hills soon, then you’ll know they’re around, mark my words. Once that Gray Eagle riles ‘em up, you won’t see no peace around these parts till next winter.”

“I thought Gray Eagle was only a legend. Is he for real?”

“For real?” the man echoed incredulously. “Are you joshing? There ain’t a man, red or white, who wouldn’t turn tail and run from him. He’s a real devil, and them Indians would follow him through the flames of hell and back. If we could get rid of him, we could tame the rest of ‘em. Lordy, Tanner, you and Clay don’t won’t to tangle with him.”

“Seems to me like you have plenty of men and supplies here. I doubt those redskins will give the U.S. Army much hassle. We saw so many soldiers, the fort can’t hold them all; they’re camped all around this place. And we passed lots of supply wagons on our way here.”

“You’re right about us having more men and supplies than we’ve had since we got here, but I won’t
feel good until General Cooper arrives with his troops and wagons. Once they get here, every Injun in this territory could ride against us and it won’t make no never mind.”

Two men entered the sutler’s post. “What’ll it be Capt’n Smith?” Edward Jackson inquired, alerting his guests to the man’s identity and hoping they would hold his previous comments a secret. It wouldn’t do to get thrown out of this fort! He warned himself it was best to learn to keep his mouth shut, especially around strangers.

Clarence Smith studied the two unknown men as he responded, “Give me a plug of your best chew. Haven’t seen you two around before,” he remarked evocatively.

Bright Arrow could feel the keen eyes of the Crow scout Red Band on him. He remained loose and calm, as if nothing and no one troubled him on this lovely day. He smiled and nodded affably when Captain Smith glanced his way.

Powchutu introduced them and repeated his tale; this time, he added, “I was about to ask Mr. Jackson if there is a place on the fort where I can post some letters home to my children.”

“Where’s home?” Smith asked boldly.

“New Orleans for my family, but me and my partner, Clay’s pa, travel a lot looking for new trapping grounds and setting them up for our men. I’m getting too old for this kind of work and worry. This’ll be my last year in the wilds. I plan to settle down and play with my grandchildren.”

“If I was you two, I would head that way at sunrise. This area ain’t gonna be safe for anyone come next month.”

“What do you mean?” Powchutu questioned in mock surprise, as if Jackson had told him nothing. “You expecting trouble?”

“Yep, big trouble, with them Sioux,” Smith stated; then he sneered.

“America bought this land fair and square, Captain Smith. Why shouldn’t we be safe? The Army is here to protect us, isn’t it?”

“The only place you would be safe is inside this fort, Gaston, and it’s brimming with men and horses now.”

“We were told the Army has a treaty with the Indians.”

“Injuns can’t read and they don’t honor treaties. They’re stupid savages who don’t know nothing but fighting and killing.”

Without even looking his way, Bright Arrow knew the scout’s gaze had not left his face since their arrival. Surely the despicable Crow could not recognize him…Surely he could not “smell a foe a meadow away” as the Crow boasted? Bright Arrow knew Red Band was trying to use the force of his stare to compel his attention, but he simply kept watching and listening to the others. He was careful to keep an interested look on his face and to hold his body lax. He had noticed that Captain Clarence Smith had not introduced the scout.

“That’s probably true, Captain Smith, but a man is still just as dead from their arrows. We’ll keep guards posted at our camp.”

“You do that, Gaston,” Smith scoffed, then turned to leave. To Bright Arrow he advised, “If I were you, Rivera, I would get your old friend out of this area so he’ll live to play with those grandchildren.”

Bright Arrow sent the surly man a lopsided smile and then replied, “My pa hasn’t been able to talk any sense into Tanner’s head for forty years, Captain Smith, so I doubt he’ll be able to at this age. He’s a feisty old coot, tougher than he looks and talks. We’ll be real careful.”

“Be a shame for this good ole’ coot to lose his hair.
How long you two staying around?” the captain asked a final question.

“Soon as we get our supplies, we’ll be returning to camp. Course, we would like to meet the commanding officer if that’s possible.”

“Afraid it ain’t. He’s out scouting the area and making plans to surprise them Sioux.” A cold, evil burst of laughter came from the man as he reflected on the “surprise” in store for Gray Eagle’s band. “Come on, Red Band, let’s get moving. We’ve got something to handle.”

Powchutu and Bright Arrow glanced at the scout for the first time. He was wearing a bright yellow bandana around his head which had been rolled into a two-inch headband, a faded cavalry jacket—beneath which he wore the top to a pair of red Longjohns from which the arms had been removed to battle the heat—buckskin pants, and knee-high moccasins. The scout’s expression was stoic, but his eyes were cold and shiny like dark icicles. There were numerous lines around his eyes from squinting in the harsh sunlight and from studying his surroundings. On his head, he placed a black felt hat from which dangled several scalplocks, no doubt Sioux. He stared at both men as they studied him. His eyes narrowed as he took one last look at each, then he left.

“That fort scout isn’t talkative or friendly, is he?” Powchutu joked.

“Red Band don’t like nobody, but he’s a damn good scout, the best. He can smell a Sioux a mile away. Hates ‘em. Crow and Sioux been enemies longer than whites been in this area. You said you wanted to send some letters out?” the sutler reminded Powchutu.

“Can you handle it for me?”

“No trouble at all. I handle all the mail for regular folk in this area. My man will take it to St. Louis, then
it’ll be put on a riverboat to New Orleans. Cost you a dollar to send mail that far.”

“It’s worth it for my family not to worry about me. They think I’ve been too old for traveling for years.” He pulled the two letters from his pocket, then handed the man two dollars.

Edward Jackson looked at the names and addresses. He smiled and said, “I can tie ‘em together and charge you only one dollar since they’re going to the same place.”

“It might be best if you leave them separated, just in case one gets lost,” Powchutu suggested.

The man smiled and nodded. “Ain’t lost a letter yet, but it’s bound to happen one day.”

“We’d best be on our way before dark, Clay. Been nice meeting you and doing business with you, Jacks. Maybe we’ll see you again soon.”

“Been my pleasure, Tanner, Clay. You fellers take care.”

Bright Arrow and Powchutu gathered their purchases and left, to find the Crow scout Red Band near their horses. Bright Arrow dared not glance around to see if any soldiers were approaching or watching them, for that would give away his feeling of suspicion and alarm. Without appearing to do so, he called his body and mind to full alert. He saw Powchutu’s hand tighten ever so slightly on the cotton sack he was holding, which revealed that his uncle also sensed danger and was preparing himself, unnoticeably, to confront it.

They looked at the Crow Indian, but did not smile or speak, as scouts were considered beneath whites and treated as invisible unless there was a reason for acknowledging them or their presence. Powchutu tied his bundle to his horse, as did Bright Arrow. Both secured their muskets in place. Before they could mount, the Indian spoke.

“Your horses not shod. They strong and alert.”

Powchutu halted his movements and turned. He looked at the scout indignantly and asked, “Are you addressing me?” It was not a good sign that the scout felt confident enough to approach them.

“I speak to you. Your horses wear no shoes. They Indian trained.”

“What business is it of yours, scout?” Powchutu asked angrily.

“Horses are Indian; they Sioux,” the scout persisted boldly.

“You have a problem here, Red Band?” an officer inquired.

The scout repeated his words, then the officer looked from Bright Arrow to Powchutu as he reasoned out the scout’s insinuation. Before he could ask for an explanation, the sutler joined them and asked, “You got a problem, Tanner? ‘Morning, Major.”

The officer inquired, “You know these men, Jackson?”

The sutler smiled and replied, “That’s Tanner Gaston and Clay Rivera. They been visiting me this afternoon and picking up some goods.”

The officer looked at the two men and announced pleasantly, “I’m Major William Ames. Pleased to meet you. How’d you rile our scout?”

“He demanded to know why our horses aren’t shod. Can’t say it’s any of his affair, but we traded them off some friendly Indians, about fifty or sixty miles southeast of here, best I recollect. They’ve been damn good mounts, real strong and fast and alert. We came this way by boat and needed them. Can’t get around this area on foot. It isn’t against the law to trade for Indian horses, is it?”

As with Captain Smith, this officer was duped by Powchutu’s easy command of the English language, his
appearance, and manner. “Nope, especially not from Indians in that area. They’re about as peace-loving and gentle as Indians come. They do a lot of trading with whites. Made a real impression on Lewis and Clark when they traveled through that area. We ain’t had no trouble with them, and don’t expect to. If I can get President Monroe to listen to me about creating an Indian bureau and sending some specialized agents out here, we could solve some problems before there’s more bloodshed. We can’t keep pushing these Indians around and out; there’s too many of them, and they got rights. It’s all a lack of trust and communication. I suppose you two disagree?”

“Whenever and wherever it’s possible, Major Ames, we work and pray for peace. Seems to me if some giving and sharing and understanding were done, there wouldn’t be so much taking and killing and dying. Like you said, Major, we need some serious talk and trust.”

“I wish you would take those thoughts and feelings to the President, Mr. Gaston; I can’t seem to catch his ear.”

“I just might do that after I return home to New Orleans. I can’t ask men to hunt and trap for my company in a land that isn’t safe. We should be riding along, Major Ames; it still gets dark early. Is this the only fort in this area? I’m sure we’ll need supplies again.”

“There’s a fort in every direction from us, two to five days’ ride. Next time you’re here, drop in to see me,” Ames invited.

“I’ll do that, sir. It’s refreshing to meet a soldier who thinks with his head and heart instead of his saber and musket. If I see Monroe, I’ll tell him to be certain to heed all letters from you.”

Powchutu and Bright Arrow mounted, waved, and rode toward the gate. The scout looked at Major
William Ames and remarked, “They bad enemies of whites. Do not trust them. They Indian, Sioux.”

Major Ames laughed heartily. “You’ve been riding with Major Butler and listening to him too long, Red Band. Those gentlemen aren’t any threat to us. They’re about as Sioux as I am. You should be careful who you insult,” he warned. “Where’s Captain Smith? I thought you two were riding out this morning.”

The scout replied, “Captain in quarters. We leave after sun pass overhead.” Red Band would never tell this officer that Captain Clarence Smith had joined one of the “laundresses” in his bunk for an hour. “I get things ready; captain join; we ride.”

“Just be careful where you two ride,” Ames cautioned. “We don’t need any trouble before General Cooper arrives. We’ll let him handle the situation, if one arises.” Ames knew those two loved to bait and fight Sioux, especially when they were low on supplies and busy with their spring trek, or out hunting in small parties.

“We follow Major Butler’s orders. We scout and plan.”

“Like I said, Red Band, only scout and plan,” Ames stressed. “And I want a full report when you return,” Ames told him, hoping it would be before Butler’s return, as that glory-seeking bastard was always countermanding his orders and pulling dangerous stunts.

Red Band looked at the major as the officer strolled away. He disliked and mistrusted this man who was becoming an Indian-lover, and Major Ames obviously felt contempt for him. He had to be careful in his siding with Butler and Smith because he needed the cavalry to help wipe out his tribe’s enemies, the Sioux. When that was accomplished, his people could claim this area. He would not report to Major Ames; he and Smith would
report to Major Butler as ordered. Butler and Smith were right, he decided; Ames was a threat to all of their plans, and should be slain soon. He knew his instincts had never failed him, and he felt challenged to prove Ames wrong. He glanced at the gate, then headed to the corral for his horse to track the two men. He had enough time to check out his suspicions before Smith was ready to ride. Before he could leave, another white man rode up and dismounted. Red Band eyed his buckskins and curly hair.