Strongheart (11 page)

Jeeter chuckled, shaking his head. “Craziest thing Ah ever heerd of. Ya been shot a bunch, ridin' hard I guess, and all over a gun, a knife, and a ring.”

Strongheart stopped smiling and said, “No, because of integrity. You would never understand that concept.” He spun his pistol back into the holster, saying, “You asked what I meant when I said we won't have to worry about that.”

Jeeter said, “Yeah.”

“I was not talking about giving you a chance. I was talking about you being able to kill me.” Jeeter looked into Joshua's dark, dark eyes and what he saw made his spine shiver. Suddenly, he wished he was back in his natural bathroom.

He laughed halfheartedly, saying, “At least let me put some clothes on. Ah'm naked.”

Strongheart said, “That's how you came into this world, but now you are wearing a gun, my gun. That is how you are going out of it. You chose the owlhoot trail. Don't whine.”

A shadow literally passed over Jeeter's face and then the rocks, and he looked up. Three buzzards circled lazily along on the updraft from the mountain, looking for food. A dread came over him. He had to kill this Indian. His hand went down for the gun, and as it touched the handle, he thought he was going to do it, but he looked up and saw the muzzle flash from Joshua's right hand. Jeeter was amazed that Joshua had been sipping coffee and not spilled a drop. At the same time, something slammed into his chest and then another, and somewhere he heard two loud booms. He was struggling to breathe.

Looking at Strongheart in a panic, he said, “How kin ya bury me in these heah rocks?”

Joshua said, “Don't have time. You wouldn't give me names or places. Remember? Besides, buzzards have to eat, too.”

The thought sent Jeeter into sheer panic. He suddenly went blind, then deaf, then he could not breathe but kept trying. He was too young to die. That was his last thought.

Strongheart retrieved his rig and grabbed whatever Jeeter had of any value, returned to Gabriel, and rode down, getting Jeeter's gelding along the way. He saddled him and led him down toward Texas Creek, along a sandy gulch with an intermittent creek seeping in and out of the sand. It was known locally as Likely Gulch.

An hour later, he led the horse into the small group of buildings called Cotopaxi. Zack Banta came out, the ever-present twinkle in his eye, and this time a large corncob pipe in his mouth.

The old-timer accepted the saddle and carbine Joshua handed him, as well as a bag of money and some jewelry.

Banta said, “Wal, I reckon ole Jeeter McMahon has no need fer none a this anymore. Ah also reckon the way ya do things, young Strongheart, thet Harlance ain't gonna have much need fer this horse or his things purty soon. We'll put him in the stable behind the hotel.”

“See that he gets a good owner, yourself or whoever,” Joshua said.

“Yassir, reckon I kin use a good mount. My ole piebald has crunched him a buncha gravel under his hooves in these mountains,” Zachariah mused, “but he likes to jest stand now a lot and remember those good ole days whilst he rests his eyes.”

“You have a good mount now,” Joshua said, winking.

Zack said, “Get any more 'sides Jeeter? Someone rode in here. Said they was a hell of a shootin' up to Westcliffe.”

Strongheart said, “Yep. Ruddy Cheeks Carroll in Westcliffe.”

“Hee, hee, ya shore don't waste no time,” Zack said. “Who's next?”

“Oregon,” Joshua said, “I have to courier a message there. Very important, but I will be back. I'm looking for an woman's antique wedding ring. Somebody in the gang has it.”

“Wal, ya better rest up tanight and leave first light. Who ya courierin' fer?”

Strongheart said, “The U.S. Army. I work for the Pinkerton Agency.”

“Yep, I knewd when I seen ya an sized ya up,” Zack said, “ya wasn't some young half-breed tryin' to figger out which world ya fit in. Could see right off ya was a man ta ride the river with.”

A cute befreckled teenaged girl came in and Zack said, “Hiya, missy. Now, Esther, why doncha run and tell yer ma to fix up our friend Mr. Strongheart here some vittles and a food pack fer his saddle tomorrah.”

She smiled broadly and said, “Yes, sir, Mr. Banta.”

The girl flashed a longing smile toward Joshua and ran to the hotel.

Joshua was feeling much stronger when he left Cotopaxi at first light and made his way westward toward Poncha Springs. He had some long hard riding ahead of him, but he would make the trip on his magnificent new mount, Gabriel, and load the big gelding when he could onto trains to make the long trek shorter. He hoped that the general had indeed gotten his orders to hold off and wait for the dispatch.

Strongheart saw some beautiful country with snowcaps in every direction when he got to Poncha Springs, and he set out west from there to take the winding road over the Continental Divide. There were plenty of pines, and he was at over eleven thousand feet when, on the rutted trail some had left, he finally got over the rough pass folks were calling Monarch.

He kept on, amazed, when he saw what was called the Black Canyon of the Gunnison, which was a very deep, beautiful sheer-cliffed gorge. He finally came to a part of the Colorado Territory where all the mountains were flat-topped mesas, and soon he headed into Utah Territory. He knew the Golden Spike had been driven in a few years earlier at Promontory Point, south of Salt Lake City. He knew once he got there, he could board a train and ride the rails most of the way to Oregon.

Strongheart was very sore and very tired when he finally got his horse settled in a car and hauled some water and hay in for him. He laid his saddle down on its horn and cantle in the corner, so the horse would not step on the saddle and break the wooden tree.

Joshua's wounds were itching now, which was a good sign. They were healing.

He was sound asleep in the nice Union Pacific Railroad car when the voice brought him out of the blackness. “Stand up Injun. No red nigger is riding in any car with me.”

Strongheart opened his eyes, tilted his flat-brimmed black cowboy hat with the wide beaded headband, and looked up at a very large grizzled man, reeking of old sweat, cows, and other odors not quite so pleasant. He had a large wild beard with gray permeating its ruffled interior regions, struggling to break out into the light of day.

Joshua smiled. “Well, mister, only half of me is red. The other half is white and that part of me is trying to catch up on some much needed rest.”

The bearded bully growled, “Oh, that's worse! A stinking half-bree—”

Joshua interrupted, laughing. “Mister, I walked by most of the people in this car, and you did, too. I think only one of us stinks, and they know it is not me.”

There were chuckles throughout the car, and the behemoth's face got beet red. He grabbed Joshua's arm and yanked him up out of the bench seat. Joshua put his hand up in a halting gesture.

Smiling, he said, “Sir, there are ladies and children in this car. If you insist on us not riding in the car peacebly, we must go outside.”

The man said, “Well, at least you know your place, Buck.”

All watched in horror and a few women in curiosity as Joshua led the giant down the aisle, tipping his hat to each lady, smiling. They reached the door and Joshua grabbed the handle, held it open for the big man, and the bully stepped out onto the small platform. Joshua followed him out, raised his right foot, planted it on the monster's chest, and shoved, sending him screaming off into the prairie brush and dirt along the tracks. Joshua shook his head as he walked back in the door.

Inside, he said, “Was anybody traveling with that man?”

A small, wiry cowboy raised his hand, saying, “I was, mister.”

Joshua said, “Your partner decided he did not want to ride in this car with me, so he is walking the rest of the way. Do you have a problem riding with me, or anybody else?”

Several men chuckled, and Joshua saw a beautiful blonde smiling broadly and making eyes at him. He nodded and tipped his hat.

The slim cowboy, now smiling, said, “Naw, sir. I thank you. I just had ta push a herd a cattle with him, and he rode everybody hard all day and night. Good riddance.”

Joshua nodded and returned to his seat while all stared. He leaned back, pulled his hat over his eyes, and grinned to himself at his antics. Within a minute though, exhausted, he slipped off again.

A hand grasped his shoulder, and he came out of his seat like his tail was on fire; he heard his gun cocking before he even had his eyes focused, and it was pointing between the eyes of the blonde, who stared in shock, while several in the car screamed. As quickly as he'd cocked it, he uncocked and holstered the Colt.

Joshua heard a man saying to another, “Did you see that speed?”

“I'll say, pard.”

Joshua said, “I am sorry, ma'am. After what happened I guess I was jumpy.”

She said softly, “I should have known better. May I sit next to you?”

He let her in, and she sat down by the window.

Joshua whispered, “Ma'am, I'm afraid I ...”

She interrupted, offering her hand. “I'm Scarlett Johnson.”

He kissed the back of her hand and saw her breath catch.

“Name is Joshua, Scarlett, Joshua Strongheart.”

She smiled and cooed, “I know I was being awfully forward just now, but after what happened, I just wanted you to know not everyone thinks like that man.”

Joshua smiled. “I know, ma'am. There are idiots among the Lakota lodges, too.”

“Lakota?”

“The Sioux,” he said. Then he leaned back and added, “If you will forgive me, I have got to catch up on sleep.”

“Please do,” she whispered. “I just will feel much safer sitting next to you.”

He smiled and pulled the hat down again.

Scarlett spent much of the next five hours glancing at Joshua Strongheart in deep slumber. She wished she could lay her head on that massive chest.

As tired as he was, Joshua thought about how pretty she was and the obvious curves that could not be hidden under her dress. Then he thought about the woman who visited him in the jail and his first reaction to her beauty. He remembered going fishing with Dan as a little boy and learning how to tease a fish with the bait until it would bite. Dan essentially forced the bait toward one fish, and Joshua watched it back away. He thought to himself now that relationships worked the same way. He grinned slightly, and the blonde saw this and wondered if he might be dreaming about her.

Unfortunately for her, when the train pulled in at the station in California, Joshua got off, doffing his hat and smiling as he went. That was all she would ever get of any kind of relationship with Joshua Strongheart. She was not the only woman who'd longed for him like that, but he usually did not even notice.

It took several days of hard riding, but eventually Joshua, now feeling exhausted but much healthier, found himself riding into a military stronghold in Oregon. He got plenty of stares with his copper skin, long black hair, and black flat-brimmed, round-capped hat with the wide beaded hatband, common headgear for Indians wearing white man's garments. The Modocs had beaten up the army pretty well in their labyrinth of volcanic caves and crevasses, and cost the government much embarrassment.

Strongheart was there to see Major General Jefferson C. Davis, who had been the commander of the Department of Alaska for three or four years and was considered to be very “hard-core” in his attitude and temperament. This started in the Civil War. Davis originally enlisted as a lieutenant in the artillery, but he proved to be tough and enthusiastic and was quickly promoted up through the ranks. Then, after commanding the Indiana Twenty-second Infantry as a colonel in 1861, he was promoted to brigadier general of volunteers and commanded the Third Division Army of the Southwest at the Battle of Pea Ridge.

Next, he commanded the Fourth Division Army of Mississippi at Corinth. He got very sick, actually going on sick leave, but got out of his sickbed to rejoin his forces to defend Cincinnati from Confederate attack.

In Louisville, Kentucky, at the Galt House, his career almost ended when he got into an argument with a superior officer, Major General Bull Nelson, who ended up slapping Davis across the face with his gloves, so Jefferson Davis yanked out his pistol and shot the general dead. He was arrested and jailed.

Luckily, the Union Army needed general officers with combat experience, and his good friend Major General Horatio Wright intervened on his behalf, and he was released. He was later acquitted.

He ended up sometime later as the overall commander of the Department of Alaska and then in 1873 found himself in Oregon in charge of the Modoc War fiasco. He was tired of waiting for his dispatch and was about ready to execute Captain Jack and his leaders, but he had been told the dispatch was on its way, being hand-delivered. His guards had been told to watch for a cavalry contingent arriving at any time.

Instead, they saw a lone half-breed Indian, Joshua Strongheart. Joshua continued to get stares, and one in particular came from Rowdy McAvoy. Born in Scotland, Rowdy was a brawler and a boozer, and also a sergeant, but he had been a sergeant and a private an equal number of times. He was frequently in the guardhouse for fighting and other drink-related activities. He could see by Joshua's demeanor, the way he sat his saddle, and his build, hard to disguise under his clothing, that he was indeed a warrior and not what Rowdy would consider a “dandy” in any way. He welcomed the challenge. Unlike many bullies, Rowdy usually did not see other men as bigger and stronger; he was almost always larger and more powerful than any man he faced.