Dark Journey Home (51 page)

Olivia looked over at Logan, as he held the door for
them, and said, “Thank you, ‘Lord’ Wakefield, and thank you for the dinner also;
it was wonderful.”

He smiled, then, after entering the lobby, Logan asked of Claude, “Now, just what was that ‘Lord Wakefield’ business all about?”

Claude chuckled, then retorted, “I’ll explain later,
Logan my boy.  It has to do with a certain young Cavalry officer, whom, by the way,
you probably will not see around the town of ‘Nowhere’ after tonight.

They were back on the trail the next morning, traveling
north, in a different stage with a fresh team of horses pulling at the bit. As Logan
and Claude had chosen to ride horseback alongside the stage, and were giving
their mounts a good workout keeping up with the fresh team, they noted the
small cavalry troop, led by Colonel Winters, riding a short distance behind the
stage.  However, as the vehicle gained distance, the soldiers soon fell behind
and out of sight. 

Inside the stage Olivia and Amelia had leaned back
enjoying the fresh morning air, and, as the stage was fairly crowded, they both
kept silent, eventually reading to pass the time.  Olivia hoped that, at some
point, she would be able to visit with Logan during the long trip to Wyoming.  She owed him some kindness, as he had been so good to them. 

Olivia thought back to the night before, as she had
bid her Uncle Claude goodnight.  He had informed her that he’d learned that a
‘slowly reforming’ Henry Jefferson Adams had boarded the train two days before,
cuffed to a U.S. Marshal, who was returning to the east coast anyway, and would
see to the safe embarkment of old Henry on the first ship sailing for England,
from the New York Harbor.  The ship’s captain would be given papers explaining
that Henry would not be allowed anywhere on United States territory again.  The
news would spread and he would not officially be allowed passage again.  

As Olivia felt much compassion for the besotted man,
she had at once been relieved to know Henry would not be following her again,
at least not in this country.  Considering Henry’s mental state, the local
authorities had hesitated to prosecute; besides they had confiscated most of
the stolen items he had taken.  Returning him to British soil had seemed the
most likely solution. 

“So now,” Olivia thought to herself, “what to do about
Logan Wakefield?  Could my life ever be the same without him?”  She sincerely
doubted the fact.

The days of travel were long, and tedious, however there
were light moments when she and Logan sat together on the stage and were able
to converse in quiet tones.  He told her again about his pa’s horse ranch, and
from his wistful descriptions of a childhood devoted to helping his pa and ma
on the ranch and enjoying loving care from those parents, she began looking
forward to seeing the colorful place and meeting those wonderful parents of
his.  The trip seemed relaxing and uneventful across the vast prairies, though
from then on, the scenery changed as they passed through various foothills, numerous
mountains, and breathtaking passes of eastern Colorado. 

Some of the small inns and trading posts along the way,
left much to be desired in amenities, however they were colorful and run by
tough, though friendly, folks who were lonely and hungry for news from other
parts of the world. Logan well knew the feeling of loneliness, though he had
pushed aside memories of his unhappy years at sea.  He knew these hardy
frontiersmen would lend a sympathetic ear, but he’d hesitated to go into his
story, preferring to look forward to a productive future.  So now here he was,
finally in familiar territory. Wyoming! Nearer to his childhood home. 

A few of the larger towns along the way had provided
quite elegant quarters, especially the large city of Denver, and they’d stayed
over for one day there to rest up for the rough trip they had ahead of them
from then on.  Olivia and Amelia had enjoyed the shops, stocking up on a few
last minute items.  From then on, heading northwest, out of Denver, travel was
rough, though the scenery unbelievably magnificent.  Wyoming was rugged, and breathtaking,
in its magnificence.

After much sightseeing, they eventually reached the military
stronghold of Fort Laramie, a small well-protected garrison in the territory of Wyoming.  Also there was a well-established trading post for furs that
trappers brought in several times a year.  It was there at the Fort that
Colonel Winters’ small troop of cavalry soldiers rode in, eyes straight ahead,
single file, with Lieutenant Augustus Harrigan bringing up the rear.  As the young
Lieutenant passed by Olivia, as she stood in the courtyard, he gave no sign of
recognition other than the slightest flush to his cheeks.    

At the Fort the travelers were offered lodgings for a
few days rest, but were also advised that cold weather and possibly snow was
predicted in the near future.  All travel, stage lines included, would be non-existent,
and they could possibly be at the Fort for the long winter months.  However,
they still had at least ten days of possible travel, depending on weather
conditions.  They chose to leave on the earliest conveyance possible, which was
a six-a.m. Butterfield stage.  They were up and ready to leave the next
morning.

Logan
told them that
this was a rough part of the country to be in, though most of the outlaws were
situated much further west from where they were headed.  A place called the
‘Outlaw Trail’ was in western Wyoming.  The ‘trail’ led to a place called the
‘Hole in the Wall’, where only those hunted by the law were welcome, and nobody
but a fool would venture into that part of the country.  Most folks couldn’t
pinpoint just exactly where that trail was anyway.  Logan had been a fool only
once in his life, which resulted in giving him many years to repent.  He didn’t
intend to be a fool again.

Olivia shivered as she watched out the stage window at
her uncle and Logan riding their horses next to the stage.  There were robbers
in England too, but they were called various other names such as Highwaymen and
Road Agents.  Somehow the mention of these western outlaws seemed much more
mysterious and dangerous, however, she figured they were well-protected, as she
had seen the driver and his partner and these two were definitely a far cry
from greenhorn kids.                

The seasoned driver, and owner of the stage line,
Texas Jake Morgan, was a salty, weathered old westerner, on the far side of
middle age, and still feisty as a young grizzly.  The ‘shotgun’ rider, Danny
Longtree, was one-fourth Cherokee, one-fourth Comanche, and one-half fighting
Irish.  Throw that combination into a stew pot, and you get an unheard of breed
of wildcat.  Longtree toted a sawed-off shotgun, two six-guns, and a wild look
about him.  There hadn’t been a stage robbery on that run in the three years
that Morgan and Longtree had taken over, two attempts at first, but no success
on the part of the outlaws.  All six who’d made the attempts, were planted
somewhere off the trail.

A few residents of the vast territory had wondered if
Morgan and Longtree had some kind of connection, maybe an understanding with
some of the outlaw gangs.  Other stage lines had been held up, terrorized by
the outlaws, while mostly leaving this route alone.  However, not one of these
citizens dared question the old-timers with their opinions.    

Inside the coach, with no elbow room to spare, Olivia
reached into her carpetbag, and pulled out a book of poetry.  She might as well
relax.  Amelia, deep in thought, was not a one to converse with at the present
time.  There were ten travelers in all, three to a seat, with one lone cowboy
sprawled outside, and on top of the vehicle.  He had turned his fur-lined
collar up for warmth, and then with his wide-brimmed hat pulled down over his
eyes, he’d fallen asleep with the luggage stacked around him keeping the brisk
cold air away. 

Well, Olivia thought to herself, they were making good
time, and would soon be at the next side-of-the-road establishment for a change
of team, and a quick lunch. She began reading to herself, though at times,
would catch a quick glance outside to view the riders a short distance from the
stage.  Her breath would catch as she eyed the tall-in-the-saddle stature of
Logan Wakefield.  “If I were a lawmaker in this country,” she thought to
herself dreamily, “I would definitely enact a law making it a federal crime for
any man to be that breathtakingly handsome causing a woman this much distress.” 
Then she smiled to herself thinking of such a notion.  Amelia looked over at
her questioningly.

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Soon after the morning stage had pulled through the
gates of Fort Laramie to head north, Colonel Winters, standing in the
courtyard, was giving Lieutenant Harrigan his orders. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant.”
the Colonel began, while holding his anger with firm control.  He’d been all
over the western frontier for over twenty-five years.  Now his patience was
wearing thin with this recent graduate of an eastern officers’ training academy. 

Swallowing his impatience, he continued, “I do not believe
that you are hearing my orders clearly, Lieutenant.  I shall repeat myself for
the last time.  You are to leave the garrison immediately, with ten of our best
men.  Once on the trail, follow the wheel tracks of the stage.  They will be
traveling northwest.  When they stop for the night, you camp outside of the
towns.  Do not under any circumstances let yourselves be seen in the towns you
will come across.  Have I made myself clear at this point?”

Harrigan replied cuttingly, his voice reeking of
sarcasm, and contempt for his superior officer, “Certainly Colonel.  Will that
be all, sir?”

“Not quite.  There are rumors of a possible attack on
the stage.  Although there are capable men handling the vehicle, I want to be
doubly sure of the passengers’ safety.  There has been no robbery on this line
for quite awhile.  I want to keep it that way.”

“Sir, if I may give my opinion.  We were taught in
military school, which is a well-known and accredited institution, not to
follow rumors and not to go out into the field unless there is evidence of
immediate danger from an Indian attack, or uprising, so I do not feel that this
excursion is necessary.”  Lieutenant Harrigan stood erect.  His contempt for
the small western garrison along with his personal dislike for the Colonel and
his orders apparent.  He continued talking, feeling that he was gaining ground
with the Colonel, making an impression on this frontier officer, with his
intelligence and proper training.  “I have heard no mention of any Indian
problems in this area, sir.”  The Colonel was silent for a moment, giving the
young officer a false sense of success. 

Colonel Winters smiled, while shaking his head in
frustration.  Looking Harrigan in the eye, he said, “Your opinion, at this
time, is not in the least of any importance whatsoever, Lieutenant, although I
always appreciate input from any of my ‘experienced’ men, who have had years of
extensive desert training.  That, you have not had.  You are new to the west,
but if you ever decide to drop down from your quarters on a distant planet,
just maybe we can make a soldier out of you……..eventually, that is.  Also, I
hadn’t realized that your obviously limited military training had put you in
charge of my troop.  Have you conferred with the authority here, or is this
rebellion against orders a possible hesitation of meeting up with the stage
again?  Maybe embarrassment because of a recent encounter with an ‘uninterested’
British lady?”

Harrigan clicked his heels as he abruptly turned
before Winters could catch the color rising on his face, then he said in a
haughty tone, “I shall gather the men,……….sir!”

“Oh, and, Lieutenant, one more thing, aside from the
fact that you forgot to salute.”  Winters called after the fresh young sprout. 
“Do not under any circumstances return here with any ‘deceased’ soldiers.  That
would be ‘your’ downfall.  Do not risk even one of my men because of any personal
discomfort of your own.  Also,” The Colonel’s voice rose, “I do not remember
mentioning that there were Indian problems here.  The fact of the matter is
that we have had word of an unknown gang of outlaws who have come into the area
from somewhere east of here.  I was not informed that they were Indians.  You
need to check your facts before jumping to conclusions. 

“If you feel that this assignment would be too much
for you to handle, Lieutenant, speak up.  I’m sure I can find a more
experienced officer to lead the men while you spend the remainder of your
assignment here, in ‘locked quarters’.  From all the bragging you have done,
since I’ve known you, I took you for a much braver young man.”   

Without further word, the red-faced young officer turned
to salute, then proudly stalked off toward the barracks.