Nathan Stark, Army Scout Read online

  He wasn’t expecting it to be that day, but when Corporal Cahill appeared in the doorway of the office Allingham occupied temporarily as the commanding officer and said, “Uh, Mrs. Blaine wants to see you, Lieutenant. And she’s got an Indian with her,” a tiny shiver went up Allingham’s spine.

  “An Indian,” he repeated. Not really a question, just a surprised comment.

  “Yes, sir. One of those Sioux boys from the stables.”

  Allingham knew who the Sioux boys were, of course. Not individually, because all Indians tended to look alike to him, but he had seen them working with the horses. It was odd, having four hostiles right there in the fort, but as far as he knew they had never caused any trouble. He nodded and motioned to Cahill. “Show them in, Corporal.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cahill backed out, and a moment later Delia Blaine marched in, followed with obvious reluctance by the young Indian.

  Allingham got to his feet and came around the desk. Like every other unmarried man on the post—and many of the married ones, he would wager—he had looked at Mrs. Cordelia Blaine in the past and struggled with the impure thoughts that tried to worm their way into his head. She was a beautiful woman. Older than him, to be sure, but that wasn’t always a drawback. Older women were more ... experienced ... in certain matters.

  But as an officer and a gentleman, Allingham had never behaved toward Mrs. Blaine in any way that could be considered even remotely improper. He smiled, nodded, and said, “Mrs. Blaine, how lovely to see you. What can I do for you this morning?”

  She nodded toward her companion. “Billy and I have to talk to you.”

  “Ah ... Billy. One of the lads from the stables, is that correct?”

  “Yes. His real name is Matoskah ... but that’s not important right now.” Delia stood up straighter, fixed Allingham with a grim, solemn gaze, and went on. “A large, well-armed force of Sioux warriors led by Hanging Dog is going to attack the fort within twenty-four hours. Probably tomorrow morning at sunrise. You’ll be outnumbered, Lieutenant—I don’t know exactly by how much—so you should begin making preparations right away to defend the post.”

  The lieutenant could not have been more surprised if she had walked into the office, ripped her garments off, and thrown herself down on the desk to be ravaged. He stared at her, unable to speak for a long moment. When he finally found his voice again, he said, “An attack? An imminent attack?”

  “Within the next twenty-four hours,” she said again. “Hanging Dog is meeting a gang of gunrunners today to take possession of a shipment of Winchester repeating rifles, to go with the rifles he already has. Once all his men are armed like that, he’ll do what he’s been wanting to do all along—wipe out this fort.”

  “That’s ... gunrunners, you say?” Allingham wanted to scrub a hand over his face in a mixture of confusion and exasperation, but he wouldn’t allow himself to make such a gesture of weakness. “Mrs. Blaine, I mean no offense, but . . . how do you know this?”

  “Billy here—Matoskah—overheard them plotting together.”

  “Here? In the fort?”

  “Nearby.”

  “These ... conspirators. Who are they?”

  Delia looked at the young Indian, who was obviously scared.

  But he had determination in his dark eyes. He said in English, “It will bring trouble on me, Mrs. Blaine, but you must tell him. The lieutenant must know the truth.”

  “Very well.” Delia faced Allingham again. “The men behind the gunrunning are Sergeants McCall and Dockery, and Dietrich Bucher, the scout. It’s likely they have at least one more partner in the scheme, the sutler, Jake Farrow. He would be in a perfect position to funnel rifles to the Indians.”

  More long, uncomfortable seconds passed while Allingham studied both of his visitors.

  Then he let out a loud bray of laughter. “Honestly? Do you truly believe that noncommissioned officers of the United States Army would conspire together to arm our enemies? That makes no sense! Why, Sergeant McCall is right here at the fort. If the Sioux were to attack like you say, he would be in mortal danger like the rest of us. Why would he do such a thing?”

  “Greed can blind men to danger, Lieutenant. Or perhaps the sergeant is unaware of what Hanging Dog is planning once he gets his hands on that shipment of rifles.”

  Allingham shook his head. “All of this is nothing but pure speculation, ma’am. There’s no way you can know what the hostiles plan to do, and you can’t even be sure about this so-called gunrunning.”

  “Billy heard them—”

  “The Indian heard some white men talking.” Allingham hated to interrupt a lady, but he was getting angry. “I don’t know how well he understands English. They might have been discussing something entirely different, and he got confused.”

  “I understood,” Billy said. “They said the guns would be delivered to Hanging Dog at Weeping Woman Rock.”

  “Weeping Woman Rock.” Allingham frowned. “I seem to have heard of the place, but I can’t really remember... No matter. This is too far-fetched for me to give any credence to it, Mrs. Blaine. It’s all a misunderstanding. Or a lie intended to stir up a commotion for some reason. Perhaps this boy has a grudge against one of the men he claims to have overheard and simply wants to cause trouble for him.”

  Billy shook his head emphatically. “I know what I heard. I do not lie.”

  Allingham flipped a hand at him. “Run on back to the stables now, boy, and don’t bother people with such wild flights of fancy. If you set out to cause trouble for someone else, you’ll most likely wind up causing it for yourself.”

  The Indian looked angry.

  You could never fully trust any savage, Allingham thought. He put his hand on the flap of the holster where his sidearm rested.

  Delia turned to the boy. “Go on, Billy. I’ll talk some more to the lieutenant.”

  “No,” he said with a stubborn shake of his head. “He will not believe you. But I speak the truth! ”

  “I know you do,” she told him quietly, “but it’s not going to do any good to keep arguing right now.” She rested a hand on his shoulder—which rubbed Allingham the wrong way, a white woman touching a savage like that—and urged him toward the door. “I’ll speak to you again later. For now, please don’t say anything about this to anyone else.”

  The Indian looked like he wanted to continue arguing, but after a moment he nodded, gave Allingham a sullen glare, and turned to leave.

  As soon as he was gone, Allingham began. “Really, Mrs. Blaine—”

  “No, you listen to me, Lieutenant. I’ve been out here on the frontier considerably longer than you have. I trust Billy, both in his honesty about what he overheard and what he believes Hanging Dog will do as soon as he has those rifles. By refusing to even consider the possibility that he may be right, you’re putting everyone here at risk.”

  “I’m in command here,” the lieutenant said stiffly, “and I must use my best judgment in these matters. There’s simply no evidence of this conspiracy other than the word of a savage. That’s not enough, and it never will be.” Something occurred to Allingham. “However, if it will make you feel better, I can call in Sergeant McCall and question him. I’m certain he’ll deny any wrongdoing, but—”

  “You’d tell him what Billy said?”

  “Well, of course. He’d have the right to know who was accusing him, wouldn’t he?”

  Delia stared bleakly at him for a couple heartbeats, then shook her head. “No. No, don’t do that. There’s no need.”

  “I agree, but if it will make you feel better—”

  “No. Just forget anything was said. Forget we were here.”

  “Oh, there’s no need to go that far—”

  “Please. It was a mistake.”

  Allingham shrugged and ventured a smile. “I always try to oblige a lady. Especially such a lovely one.”

  As if she hadn’t even heard the compliment, she turned and left the office.

  Allingham heaved a
sigh. He’d never had any sort of chance with Mrs. Blaine anyway, he told himself. Besides, if she believed such a story as that one, she was obviously mad!

  * * *

  Delia was so angry she felt herself trembling inside as she left The House. She went down the steps from the porch and saw Matoskah waiting for her.

  “He does not believe,” the young man said. “He will never believe.”

  “Not until Hanging Dog and his warriors are here.” She didn’t tell him that Lieutenant Allingham had offered to call in Sergeant McCall and tell him what Billy had said. Delia had realized instantly that she couldn’t allow that. Allingham still wouldn’t change his mind, and McCall would know that Billy had tried to inform on him. Delia knew how brutal Seamus McCall was. She had no doubt that McCall would go after Billy and hurt him, maybe even kill him.

  Another worry occurred to her. “If you’re right about Hanging Dog attacking the fort, what will he do to you and the others?”

  Billy smiled, but there was no humor in the expression. It was as cold as the grave. “He will kill us. We have lived with the whites for years. To Hanging Dog, we are no longer Sioux. We are worse than white in his eyes, because once we were part of his people.”

  Delia nodded. “I was afraid that was what you were going to say. Tonight, while it’s still safe, I want you and your friends to leave. Take horses and ride away from here.”

  His eyes widened as he shook his head. “The army would call us horse thieves and hunt us down. They might even blame us for what is going to happen here.”

  “Perhaps, but you’ll still be alive. You can lose yourselves somewhere. Start over.”

  “There is no starting over for ones such as us. We have cast our lot with your people.”

  “But if you stay, you’ll die.”

  “There is no place for us in the world. No home but here. And maybe we can help. When the attack comes, go to the chapel. That will be the safest place. I will come to you there and protect you the best I can, as long as I can.”

  A chill gripped Delia as the young man spoke. She understood what he meant. If he was right about Hanging Dog, the battle that was coming would be a fight to the death.

  A fight that the inhabitants of Fort Randall couldn’t win.

  CHAPTER 35

  By late afternoon, Nathan estimated that he, Red Buffalo, and Doc Lightner were more than halfway back to Fort Randall. But their mounts were played out. They had been careful not to push the horses too hard for too long at a time and had stopped for brief rests numerous times during the day, but the horses’ flagging condition made it imperative that they call a halt for several hours.

  Nathan didn’t know if he would be able to stand a delay that long—not when he thought about Delia and all the other innocent people back at the fort.

  The men reined in at the edge of some trees. A grassy meadow lay in front of them. The horses would be able to graze for a while. They had drunk their fill at a stream a few miles back.

  The men took the saddles off, wiped down the sweaty animals, and picketed them loosely to allow them to roam a little in search of the most succulent shoots of grass. Doc Lightner sat down, leaned his back against a tree trunk, and sighed wearily.

  “After riding all day, I think I’d rather stand up for a while,” Red Buffalo commented.

  “We still have a long way to go.” The nervous energy Nathan felt had him pacing back and forth, even though he couldn’t remember the last time he had slept.

  Lightner said, “That’s right. We still have to ride all night, don’t we? So you really should get some rest, Nathan. Both of you should. If you’re worried about dozing off, I’ll stay awake and make sure you don’t sleep too long.” He pulled out his pocket watch and opened it to check the time. “Will a couple hours be long enough for the horses?”

  “It should be,” Nathan said. “Longer would be better, but we can’t afford it. There’s no point in me trying to sleep. I don’t reckon I could do it, the way I feel now.”

  “You might be surprised. Moses, is there anything I can do to help you with those burns? I have some ointment in my medical bag.”

  “That’s all right, Doc,” the Crow said. “I’ll make a poultice when I get the chance. No offense, but Injun herbs are better than some patent-medicine nostrum.”

  “None taken,” Lightner assured him. “Since coming out here to the frontier, I’ve learned a great many things they never taught us at medical college. My philosophy is that the best cure is the most effective one, whether the learned academicians are familiar with it or not.”

  Nathan laughed. “It figures the two of you would get along. You both talk the same lingo—and I don’t mean Crow!”

  Stalking back and forth isn’t going to do me any good, he told himself, but it might not hurt to sit down, take a few deep breaths, and try to clear my mind.

  He found a tree to his liking, sat down, and leaned against it.

  We’ve made good time so far and should reach Fort Randall before dawn. At least then we can warn the soldiers. We’ll be greatly outnumbered, of course, but if all the women and children are herded into the chapel-probably the sturdiest building on the post—and what’s left of Company K holed up there, as well, we might ... just might . . . be able to hold out until Colonel Ledbetter got back.

  Assuming, of course, that once the colonel sees the Sioux village is practically empty of warriors, he realizes we were right and lights a shuck for the fort.

  And if we were wrong . . . if Hanging Dog didn’t attack the fort ... then I will thank my lucky stars that Delia and all the other folks are safe and take my chances with a vengeful Colonel Ledbetter.

  Those thoughts were going through his brain, and then suddenly his head jerked up and he saw that most of the light was gone. He bolted to his feet. “What the hell!”

  Red Buffalo and Doc Lightner were nearby, saddling their horses. Nathan’s mount was already saddled.

  The surgeon turned his head to look at him. “You were asleep, Nathan, but don’t worry. It’s only been a couple hours, like I said. The horses needed the rest, and obviously, so did you.”

  Nathan ran his fingers through his dark hair, making it stick up wildly, then rubbed his face. “Who saddled my horse?”

  “I did,” Red Buffalo said.

  A thought sprang unbidden to his mind about how he’d better check the cinches, since you couldn’t trust a redskin to do anything right, especially a white man’s job. But it was just a matter of habit, he realized.

  He bit back the words and said, “Thanks.”

  From the corner of his eye he saw Red Buffalo give him a surprised look, but he ignored it. He picked up his hat, swatted it against his thigh a couple times, and put it on, then cleared his throat and went over to his horse to pick up the reins.

  A few minutes later, the three men were riding through the gathering dusk toward the fort.

  * * *

  Delia sent the children home early that day. Knowing what she knew, she couldn’t look at their sweet faces and think about how they might be under attack by the time the sun came up the next morning.

  Of course, there was always danger on the frontier, at least to a certain extent. In the well-manned fort, she had felt safe, but at the same time, she knew that forts had been attacked. Hostile Indians were hardly the only things that could prove deadly on the frontier. Blizzards roared down out of the northern climes every winter. Spring and summer thunderstorms often spawned cyclones that could destroy a building in seconds and kill everyone in it with hardly any warning. Rattlesnakes could be lurking behind every rock.

  There were a million ways to die on the frontier, she thought. The only way not to go mad ... was to not think about them. To go on living life and hoping for the best. But that wasn’t easy to do, given the tragedies she had suffered in the past ... and the knowledge that she possessed now.

  So she gave the children a bit of a holiday and sent them home to their mothers. They could pi
ck up their school work the next day. Or the day after that, if there was one.

  Delia walked from the chapel back to her house and went inside. In the bedroom, she opened the trunk at the foot of the bed and took out an oilcloth-wrapped bundle. She carried it out of the room and set it on the kitchen table, then unwrapped it to reveal a wooden box. She unfastened the latch and lifted the lid.

  Inside was a .44 caliber Model 3 Schofield revolver, along with a dozen cartridges. It was the gun Stephen had carried as his sidearm for the last few years of his life. The metal’s dull finish and the plain wooden grips reflected its owner. Stephen Blaine had been a good man who did his duty, nothing fancy or flashy about him. Delia had loved him dearly, but he didn’t like to call attention to himself. It was easy to forget that he was around ... until he was needed.

  Much like his revolver.

  He had taught her how to fire the gun, and how to clean it, as well. She had kept it in good repair, though it hadn’t been used in a long time. She picked it up, pushed the little lever that broke it open at the top, and tilted the barrel and cylinder down to inspect the chambers. Satisfied, she took six of the bullets and slid them, one at a time, into the gun. Then she closed it with a firm snap.

  The revolver weighed a bit less than three pounds and was a foot long from the tip of the barrel to the end of the butt. Too big for her to go carrying it around openly in the fort, but she had a canvas bag that she sometimes used to bring back supplies from the commissary, so she slipped the gun into it and put the extra six rounds in the pocket of her dress. She was going to keep the Schofield with her, or at least close at hand, until she saw what was going to happen.

  Wouldn’t Nathan get a laugh out of that, she thought. All the times she had hectored him about how violence and killing didn’t solve anything, and what did she do as soon as really bad trouble loomed? She loaded a gun and was very glad that she had it and knew how to use it.

  That put a wry smile on her face as she left the house and started walking toward the stables. It would be dark soon, and she wanted to talk to Billy—Matoskah—again before night fell.