The Indian Ring (14 page)

Joshua was very attuned to the movements of the big horse, and he was very heartened to not sense a limp in the animal's gait. Apparently, removing the shoes and dressing the wound had brought a lot of relief. Joshua cleaned the hoof very thoroughly and treated it with salve. He then got the shoe back out and, facing the horse's rear, he pulled Eagle's foreleg up between his two knees and held the leg up with the inside of his thighs. He lightly filed the hoof until it looked totally flat. He placed the shoe on it, and it fit like it had been filed using a level. He then pulled the nails out and put three between his lips and one on his hand. Then using the butt of his gun like a hammer he started tapping the nail into the shoe. When the point came out of the hoof one-quarter inch up, Joshua held the point in place with the
handle of the steel nippers, and kept hammering. This bent the point back toward the shoe. When the horseshoe nail was all the way in, he bent the point all the way back to the hoof. Then, he snipped it off with the nippers. He did this with the three other nails. Then, he repeated the procedure on the other front hoof.

Strongheart was feeling the effect of his effort in the small of his back, but knew the soreness would go away. He made some food and let Eagle graze and rest for a while. He would eat, take a nap, and get back in the saddle. As soon as Joshua's head hit the saddle, he was fast asleep.

The click of the rifle hammer brought him wide awake, but he did not move anything but his eyelids.

“Blanket nigger,” the voice said, “do not move an inch. Slowly now, very slowly move that blanket off ya using the toes of yer boots. If I see either arm movin' under the blanket, yer gonna git opened up with this here smoke wagon.”

Joshua was wide awake now and trying to figure out where the shooter was. He voice came from above. Strongheart had wisely kept his Peacemaker and holster under the blanket, but it would do him no good right now. He moved the blanket off of him.

The voice said, “Awright, mister, real, real slow with yer arms way up above yer head, roll away from that gun belt. Roll toward me mebbe three times.”

Joshua could tell this man was not stupid, so he kept his hands away from the gun and knife. His belly guns were in the saddlebags and out of reach, too. He rolled over three times slowly and then stood. He finally saw his assailant. The man was twenty feet up in a large white oak tree, wearing coveralls, old boots, and a brown homespun shirt under the coveralls. The shirt was almost as dark as the man's skin. In his hands was a Winchester carbine.

Joshua had made his camp right where there was a large whitetail deer scrape, and this man had been in the camouflaged tree stand waiting for the large ten-point buck that checked this scrape frequently.

Bucks, during the rut, or breeding season, in early fall, have a large territory that they patrol. Around the perimeter they make scrapes using their front hooves, and they paw the ground out. A good hunter can estimate the size of a buck by the size of the scrape. Joshua had seen the scrape and ignored it, as bucks can make them anywhere they wish. After pawing out a large area, the male deer then stands on its hindlegs under a low-hanging branch and rubs its forehead scent on it, sometimes chewing it a little for good measure. He then stands in the center of the scrape with all four hooves together and urinates, with the urine running down the inside of its hindlegs, washing across two powerful musk organs on the inside of its hind knees. This scent marks the territory, so does in estrus will come by, smell it, and urinate so he can smell it and follow her scent trail to her. It also warns smaller bucks to stay out of this territory. They are like signposts for whitetail deer bucks and does, almost like no trespassing signs for most. Successful whitetail hunters know that a buck, especially a large one, will patrol its territory smelling each scrape looking for mates and challengers as well. They also know they need only remain in a tree stand or fork of a tree, up off the ground, where their scent will not carry as well, and where deer seldom look, simply be still and wait.

This man shot deer for meat whenever he wanted to feed his family, but he enjoyed occasionally taking a large buck for its antlers. It was simply a skill he'd acquired years earlier and took pride in being good at.

Joshua stood slowly, his hands raised. It immediately
became clear to him that this man was not connected with Robert Hartwell in any way.

Strongheart said, “I mean you no harm, sir. My name is Joshua Strongheart, and I work for the Pinkerton Detective Agency.”

The man said, “I've heard of you.”

Joshua said, “Can I put my hands down?”

“Nope,” the man replied, “Walk over to yuh gun belt.”

Strongheart complied.

The man said, “Use yer toe and turn it over, so I can see yer knife.”

Joshua did and the man smiled.

He said, “Now, turn it over again, so I kin see yer holster.”

Joshua did, and the man saw the miniature sheriff's star on his holster and grinned.

He lowered his rifle and said, “You kin grab your hogleg and rig, Mr. Strongheart.”

The man started climbing down from the tree stand, and Joshua pulled on his boots and walked over, retrieving and buckling on his gun belt. He walked up to the man and shook hands with him.

The man said, “Ya got coffee? My name is Sammy Davis.”

Strongheart grabbed his coffeepot and the makings and set it on the small fire, building it up a little.

They were soon sitting by the fire drinking coffee while Joshua briefed him on what was going on. The middle-aged black man had an easy smile, and a build that showed many years of using his muscles. His hands were rough, too, and Strongheart could tell they had handled many tools over the years. There was a hint of gray creeping into his curly black hair.

Joshua said, “Hey, Sammy, you are not what I would call snow white. Why did you call me a blanket nigger?”

Sammy chuckled and said, “Wal, I seen you was either an Injun or half-breed, and I wanted to git your attention right off. I was nervous. Looking at you riding up, I could see you was a man who had ridden the river a time or two.”

Strongheart said, “You sure got my attention. You were in that tree stand the whole time?”

Sammy replied, “Darned shore was.”

Joshua shook his head, grinning.

Sammy said, “I know what yer thinking. Why do I talk this way instead of like a Southern former slave? I was a slave and escaped by way of the Underground Railroad and made it to this part of the country. Then, I headed west and stayed fer a long time. Picked up this accent, too, I s'pose.”

“Why did you come back to this area if you were living in the West?” Joshua asked.

Sammy replied, “I done a lot of stuff, but didn't feel like I was accomplishin' a thing. I wanted to come back here and help out with the Underground Railroad.”

“The Underground Railroad?” Strongheart said, “I thought that ended years ago, even before the Civil War?”

“Thet's what everybody thinks, but it still exists,” Sammy said, “Not like it was before, but we help a few here and there. I'm called a conductor.”

Fascinated, Joshua said, “What does that mean?”

“Well, just 'cuz slavery is outlawed don't mean that a lot of landowners in the South abide by thet. The KKK still runs amok, and they is quite a few little towns and communities thet keep stuff hushed up,” Sammy answered. “There is still a real quiet Underground Railroad, mainly in Ohio, but some around here and in Pennsylvania, too. We get stories 'bout slaves or sharecroppers thet are about like slaves in the South. I go there, bring 'em up here, and we give 'em clothes, help 'em find jobs, or move 'em further east to find jobs, mainly
in Ohio. We got some ole boys with money who donate a lot to help out. I can trust you with all this, 'cuz you know what folks like mine go through with bein' a half-breed.”

Strongheart poured them both cups of coffee, and Sammy went on, “We're gonna have to sneak you outta here usin' the Underground Railroad.”

“Why?” Joshua asked.

The former slave replied, “'Cuz, all the bad men around these parts was hired up by thet character on the big black horse, and I jest heerd he has some headin' this way on the railroad. He ain't gonna want you makin' it ta Washington from what you told me.”

“How?” Strongheart asked, “How did you learn that?”

Sammy took a long sip of coffee and grinned broadly, “I told you, I'm with the Underground Railroad. We have us a network across the North and parts of the South. We know what's goin' on and git the news out to each other fast.”

Strongheart took a thoughtful sip on his coffee and asked, “Then, can you find out for me about the condition of Lucky DeChamps with the Pinkerton Detective Agency? He was shot up bad and in a hospital in Denver.”

Sammy said, “Shore. We can find out about him. Where's he work outta?”

“Headquarters in Chicago,” Strongheart replied.

“Well, we need ta git you in a good hidin' place,” Sammy said, “You git back to takin' yer nap, and I'll stand watch. I may take me a looksee in a little bit, too.”

Strongheart said, “Are you sure, Sammy?”

Sammy chuckled.

He said, “Son, I been around heah a good bit, and I know all the woods in the area like the back of this old, wrinkled, scarred-up, brown hand.”

Joshua nodded in appreciation and lay back down. He
closed his eyes and thought about Lucky and the first time they'd met. Oddly enough, many miles to the northwest in Chicago, Lucky was also thinking about it.

One of Pinkerton's supervisors was Francois Luc DeChamps, who was born in Paris, but came to the U.S. as a young boy and changed his name to Frank DeChamps, but all in his family and American friends started calling him Lucky, for his middle name, when he was a slightly larger than a bean sprout. He considered Joshua Strongheart a tremendous asset for the Pinkertons.

Lucky was dining with a date in a very popular upscale restaurant in downtown Chicago, a city already known for great eateries. Lucky noticed his date eyeballing a man who walked in and who was escorted to his table by the maître d'. Tall, broad-shouldered, and very handsome, he was obviously half-Indian and half-white and Lucky could not help but notice the way all the women looked at him.

At the table next to him was a very large, boisterous, obviously drunken police lieutenant. It was obvious that was his profession because he made it clear in a loud voice that that was what he did. The man was a mean drunk and wanted to intimidate all who were within earshot. Worse yet, he intimidated and embarrassed his wife seated at his table. The man was complaining about anything and everything. Cursing the wine steward and his waiter both, this finally brought over the maître d', who tried to politely ask the man to leave.

The large man stood and shoved the maître d', who fell over a chair, and several people in the room murmured. The waiter helped the man up.

The bully bellowed, “Do you know who I am? I am Lieutenant Daniel Alexander of the Chicago Police Department! If you think you can bamboozle me, you . . .”

His slurring was stopped when Joshua Strongheart stood up. Alexander gave him a mean look and said, “What do you want, you blanket nigger? What are you even doing in this place?”

Joshua kept smiling and said, “Sir, didn't you say you were Lieutenant Daniel Alexander?”

“Yea, so what?” the man snarled.

Joshua extended his hand saying, “I have heard all about you and your heroism, sir. I just wanted to shake your hand.”

The drunk was taken aback, and he extended his hand, but when they shook Lucky noticed the big man grimace in pain. That was when Lucky saw that Strongheart, while shaking, stuck a pencil between the policeman's ring finger and middle finger and then squeezed his hand while pretending to shake. He then grabbed the man's elbow and, appearing to be friendly, strong-armed him toward the door, all the way talking nicely to him. The wife sat in her chair and buried her face in her hands and cried.

Lucky excused himself and walked over to the window, where he watched as, outside, Strongheart stuck his foot out and tripped the big man and slammed his head into a gas lamppost. He slumped to the ground unconscious. Joshua then summoned two police officers over and spoke to them, and they began to laugh and shake their heads. They both shook hands with Joshua and grabbed the officer by his upper arms. Lucky sat down with his date.

Strongheart came back in and was asked by Lucky to join him and his date. He told Joshua about seeing the pencil and appreciated Joshua's quick thinking and classy handling of the matter. To make a long story short, he found out that the half-breed was job hunting and Lucky hired him on the spot for the Pinkerton Agency.

Joshua opened his eyes when he smelled meat cooking
with lot of spices on it. Sammy was over a frying pan cooking potatoes and corn and had backstraps from a young doe already broiling over the fire on a green stick spit.

Joshua said, “I heard you leave and heard you come back, but knew you had me covered.”

Sammy grinned. “You shore slept good, Strongheart. You been conked out fer a good two hours,” he said.

Joshua Strongheart said, “That venison sure smells good. I guess you checked the area out?”

Sammy handed him a slice of backstrap, potatoes, and corn and Joshua dug in. It was some of the best cooking he had tasted in a long time. The two spoke over a great meal and more coffee, then broke camp, covering all evidence of their presence. Joshua looked over at Eagle. His ears were up, his nostrils flaring, and he gave a low whinny, a signal to his master.

Sammy and Joshua both stood.

Sammy said, “Grab yer gear and climb up into mah tree stand.”

Joshua looked over at Eagle and gave him a shooing motion.

He said, “Eagle, go!”

Eagle seemed to understand and trotted off. Both men clambered up the branches to the camouflaged tree stand, carrying Joshua's saddle and gear. They held still. Two of Hartwell's henchmen came into view minutes later. They had carbines across their saddle swells and their heads were moving side to side. Both men had the look of two little boys tiptoeing through a cemetery at midnight.