Son of the Hawk (6 page)

“Well, no, not really,” Annie replied. “I rode my father’s mules once or twice when I was a girl.”

“Oh?” Luke responded. “Well, you could have fooled me.” He studied the young woman’s face for a moment until she lowered her gaze and he realized that he must have been staring. Looking quickly away, he said, “I hope it isn’t too uncomfortable for you,” although he could see that it wasn’t.
A right handsome woman, even in a man’s getup
, he thought,
and she’s got enough sense to go with the horse’s natural motion.

“Are we in hostile territory yet?” Dimeron asked.

“We’ve been in it ever since we got outta sight of the fort,” Luke replied, causing Dimeron to quickly glance
all around him as if expecting to find an Indian behind every scrub or bush.

Seeing nothing but the big open prairie, the reporter relaxed and concluded, “They must all be at Fort Laramie for the treaty talks.”

Luke’s lips parted slightly in a thin smile. “Just because you don’t see ’em, doesn’t mean they’re not there.” Then he touched the brim of his hat respectfully to Annie and rode off to the head of the column.

Dimeron looked from right to left once more before saying, “I think the lieutenant is being a bit overdramatic, don’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Annie answered. “He doesn’t strike me as the dramatic kind.” She decided at that moment that she liked the young officer. He had an easy way about him that spoke of a quiet confidence. She was glad that he had been assigned to this search party, although she guessed that he didn’t necessarily appreciate being stuck with a woman on his patrol.

*   *   *

They made camp the first night in a little grove of dusty cottonwoods that jealously competed for the attention of a shallow stream. Buck promised better water the following night when they would strike the south fork of the Cheyenne River. Although the day had been hot and dry, when the sun slipped beneath the line of low ridges to the west, the evening air took on a definite chill. Annie was thankful Captain Leach had suggested that she should include a garrison jacket along with the other garments borrowed from the quartermaster.

As was the summertime custom, the men packed no half-tents, preferring to sleep in the open, even though the nights were already chilly. Sergeant Post detailed two men to set up a tent for Annie, however, as well as one for Robert Dimeron. Dimeron, seeing
that he was the only man sleeping in a tent, insisted upon sleeping in the open like the troopers, so after that first camp, Post only concerned himself with the lady’s comfort. Several small fires were started and the soldiers gathered around them to cook their evening meal of salt pork and hardtack, to be washed down with bitter coffee. Annie shared the same fare as the men, and while it was not particularly appetizing, she did not complain, soaking the hard crackers in her coffee to make them easier to chew. She understood that there was no time to hunt for fresh meat, since the lieutenant’s orders were to make haste whenever possible.

Luke did not confide in the lady that his specific orders were to mount a patrol for fifteen days. Regardless of the success or failure of his mission, he was to return to Fort Laramie within that span of time. Luke speculated that Captain Leach, while irritated that the four prospectors might have jeopardized the peace talks, was not really concerned with their safety. The captain was concerned, however, about sending out a troop of cavalry from an already skeleton force. In deference to the young woman’s anxiety for her missing husband, Luke determined to push the troop on the trip outbound in order to have as much time as possible to search for the prospectors.

Luke Austen harbored no illusions as to why he was chosen to lead this seemingly foolish patrol into a country so wild that four men might hide there for a year without being found. It was no secret that Luke was Henry Leach’s least favorite officer. Luke didn’t waste a great deal of time speculating upon the reason. Basically, he supposed that it was because he was a graduate of the military academy, and his father was a general who had served in the war of 1812. Leach, not having the benefit of an academy background, had earned his captain’s bars through the ranks. Aside
from that, Luke knew his popularity with the men was another sore point with Leach.

For those reasons, Luke wasn’t surprised that he had caught this assignment. Seated with his back against a tree trunk, sipping his coffee, he glanced around him at his command. The irony of it brought a smile to his face. Of the men selected to ride with him, over half were deadbeat soldiers, troublemakers, drunks, and slackers. Most of the rest were foreigners who barely understood English. He looked across the stream to where his scouts were lounging. Buck Ransom obviously knew his business, and had probably been as good a scout as Bridger had testified. But Buck was old, maybe too old for this line of work now. The other scout, a sullen Sioux named Bull Hump, was rumored to have participated in a raid against a party of emigrants during the early summer. Bull Hump denied it, and there was no witness to prove it, but Luke wouldn’t put it past him. Captain Leach assured him that he could trust the Sioux scout.

What a crew
, he mused,
a troop of misfits, a broken-down mountain man, a turncoat Sioux
—he turned his gaze to the two sitting before the tent—
and a woman and a damn reporter.
He had to hand it to Leach, the captain had fixed him up with a real command.

“Maybe you can tell me why you’re smiling, sir, so I can enjoy it, too.”

Lost in thought, Luke had not heard Sergeant Grady Post behind him until he spoke. He glanced up as Post kicked a cottonwood limb aside and sat down beside him. “Why, I was just mulling over this patrol, Sergeant.”

Grady Post did not have to be told what prompted the ironic grin on the lieutenant’s face. The one solid element in an otherwise shaky detachment, Grady knew the score full well. “It’s a ragged bunch, all right.
I expect the guardhouse will be a lonely place until we get back.”

*   *   *

Buck Ransom rode out about a mile ahead of the column as the morning sun spilled over the dry prairie. Glancing out toward the east, he watched for a moment as the Sioux scout disappeared beyond a rise. Buck hadn’t made up his mind about Bull Hump. The Indian seemed a bit standoffish. Buck wasn’t sure if he would trust him or not.
We’ll wait a bit on that one
, he thought.

Turning in the saddle to look back at the double line of soldiers trailing him, Buck wondered if he shouldn’t have turned this job down. More and more lately, he was feeling the rigors of long hours in the saddle. His kidneys hurt and his joints were stiff, and for the first time in his life, he had begun to miss the warm comfort of his cabin in Promise Valley. Buck detested the thought of old age, but it had gotten to the point where he was unable to deny it.
I shoulda took me a squaw a long time ago.
“Shahh,” he spat, and nudged his horse hard. Thoughts of aging depressed him.

Some eight hours later, Buck sat in the saddle and gazed ahead toward the mountains before him while his horse drank from the waters of the south fork of the Cheyenne River. He would wait there for the lieutenant to catch up. Off to his right, Bull Hump was cutting across a low ridge on a course to intercept the column. The Sioux scout showed a tendency to range a little far ahead, sometimes Buck didn’t see him for hours.
I hope to hell he’s keepin’ his eyes peeled.
Buck turned his attention back to the hills ahead.
If the Injuns find out we’re in these parts, they ain’t gonna like it too much.
It was not the first time the thought had entered his head that day.

While he waited for the others to catch up, he
worked away at an upper tooth that had been aching for the past two days. With his fingers, he wiggled it back and forth, trying to loosen it to the point where he might rid himself of it. He knew he should have let the doctor in Laramie pull it, but it had not been so painful while he was there. Half of his teeth were gone already, and he kind of hated losing this one—it was on the side he chewed his plug of tobacco.
This keeps up, I ain’t gonna be able to eat nothin’ but corn mush.

“Where in hell would a man start lookin’ for four greenhorn prospectors?” he wondered aloud. Then he took hold of the offending tooth again and launched a vigorous wiggling assault upon it. The tooth refused to yield. “Damn!” Buck gasped in exasperation, giving up for the moment. Back to his previous thought, he tried to remember the various game trails he had followed through these mountains many years ago. It had been a while since he had risked his neck in these sacred grounds.
That damn Injun oughta know where to look; he’s a Sioux, and the Sioux seem to think the Black Hills belong to them. Hell, them four fellers could be anywhere, and most likely their bones is already bleaching in the sun.

When the column caught up to Buck, Luke decided to follow the river upstream for a few miles before selecting a campsite. After Sergeant Post assigned pickets for the night, he saw to the placement of Annie Farrior’s tent to insure the lady the maximum amount of privacy. While she watched two troopers assemble her tent, Annie gazed longingly at the inviting river, wanting desperately to be able to clean some of the trail dust from her body. But she hesitated to suggest something that might be a little too awkward, given the company she traveled in. Lieutenant Austen, proving himself to be the gentleman that his commission as
an officer stated, read the lady’s thoughts and suggested that she might desire a bath.

“Oh, I most certainly would,” Annie replied, “but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very comfortable taking one under the circumstances.”

“Well, I think we can manage to protect your privacy long enough for you to clean up a bit,” Luke said, then turned to look for his sergeant. “Sergeant Post,” he called.

When Grady Post responded, Luke told him to set up a camp schedule with the men. Any man who wanted to bathe in the river would be required to go downstream one hundred yards. The lady would go upstream one hundred yards or so. To further insure the lady’s privacy, she would be provided an escort. When Post turned to pass on the lieutenant’s orders, Luke turned to Annie again. “I will escort you myself, Mrs. Farrior. You have my word that no one will bother you.”

Annie was still hesitant, but she so wanted to rid herself of the day’s grime. “It would be nice, but perhaps I should wait until after dark.”

“As you wish, ma’am, but it’ll be a little chilly after dark.” Seeing her indecision, he smiled and said, “You don’t have to worry, Mrs. Farrior, I’ll make sure nobody sees you—including myself.”

She immediately blushed. “I’m sure you would be the perfect gentleman,” she hastened to assure him. “I think I
would
like that bath.” She fished around in her saddlepack for a towel. “And, Lieutenant, please call me Annie.”

“Yes, ma’am . . . Annie.”

Luke walked with Annie, following the river upstream until reaching a bend that afforded her respectable privacy from the soldiers’ camp. Luke suggested a spot for her bath where he could stand
watch on the bank above. “I’ll stand right up here with my back turned.” He smiled and added, “You can take my pistol if you want. Then if I turn to look, you can shoot me.”

Annie blushed again. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.” She strode off down the bank to the water’s edge. Luke took a position at a high point on the bank some twenty or so yards downstream. With his back toward her, he stood watching in the direction of the camp. As quickly as she could manage, Annie removed her army trousers and waded out from the bank, splashing the chilly water over her arms and legs, and scrubbing her face with her hands. Although she was shivering all over when she waded back to shore, the refreshing effect of her bath seemed to take the weariness from her body that riding horseback all day had caused. While she stood there, drying her legs and arms, she found herself gazing at the young lieutenant, standing straight and tall, his broad back to her. She wondered if he was married—he had made no mention of a wife. She hoped that he wasn’t. Suddenly realizing the direction her thoughts were leading her, she silently scolded herself, and reminded herself why she was out in the middle of hostile country with a cavalry patrol.
Forgive me, Tom
, she thought, feeling ashamed for her speculations regarding the young officer.

“You can turn around now,” Annie said, and walked back up the bank where he awaited her.

Back in camp, Buck and Grady Post were discussing the different possible directions to start a search for the four prospectors. When Luke and Annie returned from the river, Luke invited Annie to join the discussion, hoping she might remember something her husband might have said that would give them a clue. She sat down with them by the fire but could
offer very little information to help. The problem, as she pointed out, was that none of the four knew anything about the Black Hills. The only lead they had was a creek the old trapper had told Ned Turner about. After Ned bought the old man a second drink, the trapper told him that a good place to start looking was a place the Indians called Bitter Water.

“Well, I reckon I know where that is,” Buck commented, his face twisted in a frown caused by his toothache. “But I’d be the most surprised one of us if there’s any gold in that little crick.”

Bull Hump joined the little group around the fire, having just returned from scouting the area north of their camp. When Grady looked at him, his eyes questioning, Bull Hump reported, “No Injuns anywhere.” Like Buck, the Sioux scout was familiar with Bitter Water. He was adamant in seconding Buck’s opinion that there was no gold there. “I know best place to look for yellow dirt,” he said, “much yellow dirt in valley, one day’s ride.”

Luke looked at Buck, who simply shrugged his shoulders. Maybe the Indian knew what he was talking about, maybe he didn’t, but starting the search in one place was as good as another. So Luke decided to let Bull Hump lead them to this valley he spoke of. The lieutenant was less than enthusiastic about the possible success of such a random search—as was Buck Ransom—but he didn’t know any better plan. Annie’s husband and his three partners might just have stumbled upon this valley Bull Hump was so sure about.