The Indian Ring (18 page)

“No, we won't.” Strongheart said. “I promise you.”

“What will happen?” she replied.

He said, “We need to pack what we can for tonight. We will leave after dark and find our horses. We should take naps, eat, and get ready in a while.”

“Okay, you know how to handle things like this better than me,” she responded, fighting tears now.

They both lay down in the two rooms to take naps, but after a few minutes she called Joshua. He walked to her doorway. She was crying again.

Sticking out her arms, she said, “Joshua, please hold me awhile?”

He smiled softly and walked over to her bed and lay down. He gently placed her head on his massive pectoral muscle, and she started sobbing again. They awakened a few hours later and the sun was still in the sky but getting ready to disappear under its covers for the night. Joshua gave her a kiss and walked to his roll and saddlebags.

She got up, joining him, and said, “What do we do?”

She watched with curiosity as he spread out his large slicker. Then he carefully folded his stuff on top of it. Then he walked out of the cabin, returning a few minutes later with his shirt removed. He had tied the neck together with a piece of fringe and used it as a bag. It was filled with small sticks and pine cones. He poured them all over his equipment on the slicker. Then he rolled up his shirt and put it in the pile. Brenna marveled at his rippling muscles and the numerous scars all over his upper torso. They told a story of danger and excitement, and this man excited her more than any she had ever met. In fact, she knew she was already in love with him.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Well,” he replied, “making a raft, a waterproof one.”

She cocked her head to the side wondering what he meant.

He explained, as if reading her thoughts, “I am sure I saw a couple tarps in the other room, oilskin, I believe. I will tie these up tight, so that water cannot get in. With pine needles, pine cones, and sticks they will float. I'll make one for you and one for me. We will float across the pond just quietly kicking with our feet, so we do not make noise. Then we will run a ways through the trees and then stop and get dressed.”

“Get dressed?” she said.

Joshua smiled, saying, “Brenna, this is a life-or-death situation, so I hope you are not going to be too modest.
Whatever we wear will get wet, and we will be riding hard, for hours, wearing it wet. I will be naked, and if you are smart, you will be, too.”

She replied, “Oh my. Will you look?”

He smiled, “Probably.”

She grinned, her face tomato red.

“I will do whatever you say, Joshua. Like you, I am a survivor,” she said.

They ate and then shortly after, made their way through the trees to the end of the island, seeing easily in the dense small forest because of the flames still licking the sky from the burning mansion, barns, and outbuildings. They could hear happy voices, and Strongheart knew that the fools figured he and she had perished.

At the end of the point, sitting between some pines, they both started undressing, packing their clothes in the two rafts, which Strongheart tightly sealed by rolling the seams together and then tightly bound them with his lariat and some piggin strings.

Now, seeing each other's nude bodies clearly in the glow from the flaming sky nearby, they both marveled at the other. They did so in silence, though, because, as Joshua had said, this was survival, pure and simple. They made it across the pond, only visible to Hartwell's group for maybe ten feet and nobody was looking anyway and might mistake them at a distance for geese or a couple of beavers.

Entering the dark trees on the far shore, Joshua reached back, taking her hand and, both carrying their rafts, he led them through the darkness. Joshua could see much better than she because he closed his left eye whenever they were in sight of the bright flames from the heinous act of arson. As a warrior, he knew that closing one eye when exposed to light and then opening it after getting back into the dark, makes the
eye quickly adjust to the darkness. This happens within seconds, in fact. As they wound through the dark trees, they heard the voices and sounds behind them disappear.

Joshua stopped, hearing a familiar whinny and strained to look between the trees. In a small clearing ahead was Eagle and her chestnut standing side by side.

Joshua, smile unseen in the blackness, whispered, “Our horses are ahead, maybe forty feet.”

As they made the clearing, they both saw the horses clearly in the silvery light from the full moon. Behind them in the cracks of the emerald curtain, the sky was cloaked in bright red and yellow. They got up to the horses and dropped their rafts, and a figure stood up between the horses.

Buck gulped, as he looked upon Brenna in her nudity, and Joshua, too. He turned his head.

Brenna was embarrassed, as she said, “We had to swim across the pond and keep our clothing dry, Buck. Buck, why did you stay here? I told you to make it home to your family. They need you.”

Buck nodded, smiling, with his head turned, hearing them both toweling off and getting dressed.

He said, “Yes'm, but my family dey know how to take care of demselves. Dey have had to hide befo'. Dey will do it if'n anybody comes ta mah house.”

“Are you sure?” she said.

“Yes'm,” he replied.

“But why did you risk your life and stay here?”

He looked now, as she and Joshua were dressed except for boots.

“Because ma'am, you risked yo' life befo' fo' me,” Buck said, “I wanna make sho dat ya both got yo' horses.”

“Thanks, Buck,” Strongheart said and extended his hand. “Thanks a lot.”

Buck had heard many stories about Strongheart all the way there in the Midwest and to have him shake hands with him and thank him was like getting a roll of bills. Then he looked down at her hand extended forward and in it was a tight roll of bills. She put it in his hand.

She said, “I will be insulted if you try to give it back. I grabbed some money and put it in my pocket before, when I saw those ruffians riding up. Just in case. I will have to go away now, Buck. However, I will come back someday and find you and your lovely wife. You have been a wonderful help to me over the years and a loyal friend. God bless you.”

He hung his head down trying to hide his own tears. She grabbed him in a big hug, and he turned and disappeared into the trees just like that. She dabbed at her eyes.

By this time, Joshua had the gear stored on his horse, which was already saddled and bridled. She took the reins to her horse and gasped. There were saddlebags on her horse, too. She reached inside, and saw that Buck had grabbed food, apparently sneaking to the fruit cellar, and put a store of it in there. He also grabbed some of her clothing off the line out back, and shoved it in there as well, and some matches. He had also rolled up her rain slicker and bedroll, including a bag and oilskin and had them rolled tightly behind her saddle cantle.

Again, she got tears, and said, “He risked his life to get me some food and clothing, Joshua. What a wonderful man.”

He said, “Sure is loyal. Salt of the earth. Brenna, we need to put some miles between us and them. Do you know where you want to go?”

She said, “Yes. Chicago.”

He did not wait for her to say any more, but said, “Then we will head west.”

He was headed east, but this woman had risked her life
and lost everything to protect him. Sammy Davis had given up his life, too, and Strongheart became even more determined to make Robert Hartwell pay. The Pinkerton looked up at the sky, located the Big and Little Dipper, then the North Star, and headed west.

They rode for hours, and Joshua knew he had to give her and the horses a rest. Hartwell knew he was headed to Washington.

He found a nice quiet grove along a wide stream and made camp. He built a small fire, and they quickly curled up, using their saddles for pillows, and both slept until the sun awakened them.

Brenna was still tired and sore, but said, “I will be ready in a minute.”

Joshua said, “No, ma'am. The horses need rest, and we can eat a good breakfast, some coffee, and take it easier. Those fools think they burned us to a crisp, and will never look to the west. Hartwell knows I am heading to Washington.”

Shortly after, during breakfast, she said, “Why are you heading to Washington?”

He said, “To expose Robert Hartwell and his followers in the Indian Ring to Congress.”

She said, “Joshua, I want to ask you a serious question. You are definitely a man of sorts, and a man of the wilderness. Do you think a bald eagle could fly down and kill something in a place like New York City?”

“Definitely,” he said with a grin, not knowing what she was after.

“Do you think a bald eagle would enjoy being in or around a place like New York City?”

“No, not at all,” he answered, “Eagles treasure their freedom. Too many people, houses, and buildings in a place like that. I suppose an eagle would feel very confined.”

She said, “Since we talked about this case, I've done a great deal of thinking. According to what you told me, many people back east and out west know about the Indian Ring, and Secretary Belknap was caught and forced to retire.”

“Yes,” Joshua said.

She went on, “And many investors in Washington and similar places put money into the trading posts and other parts of the Indian Ring.”

“That's true, too,” he replied, “So, what are you getting at?”

She went on, “You, to me, are like that eagle. Yes, you could go to Washington and kill Hartwell and many of his people, but you would be confining yourself to a part of the world that is not your territory. You can do it, but is it right? Why not leave the politics to the political buzzards in Washington who are expert at it, and you do what you're expert at? Hartwell obviously wants you dead, so why not make him come to your territory to try to kill you, especially since you are up against so many other killers. By chasing him to Washington, it seems that you are playing into his hands instead of the other way around.”

Joshua took a sip of coffee and grinned.

“What is so funny, Mr. Strongheart?”

He chuckled, saying, “I am trying to figure out if you are simply wise, or actually brilliant, or I am just plain stupid? This has happened twice within a few weeks that two women, my cousin and you, have made me stop and think clearly.”

She chuckled, too. Then she set her coffee down and came over to him and put her arms around his neck. They kissed softly, then passionately.

“You know,” she said, “I have always had to be so strong, so guarded. I feel totally safe when I'm with you. When I cried on your chest, I had never done that before with any man. This is very forward, but I have fallen in love with you, Joshua.”

Strongheart kissed her again, then sat back and refreshed his coffee and hers.

He said, “Brenna, you are very, very beautiful and free-spirited. Like a female eagle of sorts yourself but you could function well in Washington, New York, or Chicago. However, you said it. I am a man of the West, and I am a man of two worlds. You would not be happy there.”

“I would be happy with you anywhere, Joshua,” she said her eyes welling up again, as she knew deep down he was correct.

Strongheart said, “Those who move west have a stirring in their soul. They hear about harsh blizzards, and many more grizzly bears and wolves than you would find where you live. They hear about Indian raids, stage holdups, hardships, many more rattlers than you find where you live, and gun fights. Yet, they are drawn there like by a magnet. Brenna, you have never had those feelings, have you?”

She said, “No, I haven't. I just wish.”

He said, “I know.”

He grabbed the frying pan and knelt down by the stream. He reached down into the water and grabbed a handful of sand and half filled the pan with water. He dropped the sand in and started swirling it around. In short order, the pan was clean. Then, Brenna tossed him a bar of soap from her saddlebag, and he scrubbed it with that, and rinsed it. Strongheart stood and shook the pan and then put it away in his saddlebags.

They both knew the conversation was over.

He walked over to her, and held her upper arms, saying, “Are you going to be okay? I am so sorry you lost your home and all your belongings because of me.”

She put her hand on his and said, “Not because of you! It was because of Hartwell. I'll be fine, really. I am very wealthy, Joshua, and everything I lost were simply things. I have
relatives I will stay with in Chicago until I figure out what to do next. Maybe after you destroy Hartwell and his gang, I'll return, but I am thinking maybe I should move to Washington myself and try to influence lawmakers on race relations.”

“The Pinkerton Agency headquarters are in Chicago,” Strongheart replied. “Maybe when I come there, we can have dinner.”

“I would love that.”

BACK HOME

Within a few days, Strongheart rapped on the door of the palatial mansion on Wacker Drive. Brenna stood next to him, eyes glistening. One of the massive double oak doors opened, and a man with a face similar to Brenna's looked at Joshua then at her. His face broadened into a beaming smile, and he swept her up in his arms.

“Sis!” he yelled. “Honey, Brenna is here! Come in, come in!”

Strongheart remained for dinner at the insistence of Brenna's older brother, but then he left for the hospital.

An hour later, Lucky looked up from the newspaper he was reading to see Joshua Strongheart walk into his private hospital room. Lucky smiled and the two shook hands.

Joshua said, “Well, it looks like you pulled through. I'm glad. I would hate to have to break in a new boss.”

The two chuckled.

Lucky said, “The last reports we had, you were in Indiana or Ohio somewhere, were arrested for murder, and taken away by a posse. That was days ago.”

Strongheart smiled, “Yes, I ended up in Indiana, and I
think southwestern Ohio, too. I'll file a detailed report later, but I have been through a bit.”

“How did you end up back here in Chicago?”

Strongheart responded, “After you got shot, I was determined to chase Hartwell to Washington, D.C., and take care of him and his men there, if need be. Someone I was with, who I brought here to Chicago, convinced me I should go home and have Hartwell come after me, on my ground, on my terms.”

Lucky smiled, “Was she beautiful?”

Strongheart said, “Very.”

Lucky smiled, “I'm glad you have gotten back to living.”

“Life goes on,” Joshua said. “In fact, Shakespeare said, ‘The golden age is before us, not behind us.'”

He went on, “Lucky, I need a few agents to help me. I am heading back to southern Colorado and will make sure that Robert Hartwell knows it. He will come. He is obsessed with killing me now. He cannot help himself.”

Lucky said, “He does not want you destroying his money well. You will have your agents. Just end the Indian Ring.”

Strongheart said, “That's simple. It will end with the end of Robert Hartwell. The problem is the nature of man. It may not be called the Indian Ring, but there will always be such policies as long as one group has dominion over another.”

Lucky said, “Very true. I am glad to see at least you are not full of holes again.”

Joshua laughed, touching his bandaged upper arm, which was not visible because of his shirt's now-repaired sleeve, saying, “Only one hole this time, but not so bad.”

Lucky smiled and just shook his head.

•   •   •

Two days later, Strongheart got off the train in Denver and made arrangements to take one to Pueblo and then connect
to another going to Cañon City. He knew that by now Robert Hartwell would wonder if they had really gotten lucky and killed him, or if he was still alive. He knew that by now, Hartwell would have sent some of his gunmen out, maybe in twos or threes to major population centers to see if Joshua would show up. He would ensure that he was seen, and he was positive that Hartwell would definitely have people in Denver, his home base and the hub of Strongheart's travels.

Instead of riding in a passenger car, he stayed in the comfortable and safe confines of the boxcar Eagle was traveling in. They rode away from the train station looking for any of Hartwell's well-dressed shootists. He did not see any around the depot, so he figured since it was lunchtime, they may have gone to a saloon to have a sandwich. He rode to the saloon where Hartwell could always be found.

Strongheart entered the saloon, and immediately spotted Kirby Hoover and Ed Ragan, another gun tough of Hartwell's. Both wore tailored gray suits and both wore tied-down guns with double holsters. They spotted him, and he saw Kirby tap Ed and whisper something. They were back in the far corner of the saloon. At an unspoken signal, both men stood, pulling back the tails of their suit coats. Men seeing what was happening jumped up from tables and back up to both side walls of the saloon.

Joshua said, “It does not have to be this way. You can slowly unbuckle your gun belts, and we can march to the police department.”

Kirby snarled, saying, “You go to hell, Strongheart.”

Joshua smiled and replied, “Naw, you two will be there in a minute. I am planning on heaven.”

He had walked into the saloon not expecting action so fast. He also knew that the men around Hartwell were the toughest and the best gun slicks around. To outshoot them
he would need an edge, and the only one he could think of was beating them to the draw. Instead of waiting for either to make a move, he drew first.

“Draw!” he commanded, as he whipped out his Peacemaker and fired, his first bullet slamming into Kirby's belly, folding him like a new suitcase.

He stepped to the right, fanning his gun. The next two bullets slammed into Ed's chest, and then his left cheek. He spun and slammed face-first into the wall, and his limp body crumpled and fell to the floor, like a burlap bag full of rags that had just been dropped. Strongheart quickly ran over to Kirby and kicked his fallen pistol away. The man started crying like a baby and screamed.

“You gut shot me, Strongheart! Git me a doctor, please!” he yelled.

Joshua shook his head seeing this big gun tough bawling like an infant child. He thought about the fact that so often these supposed tough guys were nothing more than scared little boys with grown-up bodies and six-shooters.

Strongheart hollered out, “I am a Pinkerton agent! Somebody fetch the police and a doctor!”

He looked at the saloonkeeper and remembered his times with the man before. Two Denver police officers rushed in, guns drawn, and Joshua quickly identified himself and briefed them.

Kirby lay on the floor moaning, with tears still running down his face. Joshua knelt down next to him and said quietly, “A doctor's coming, but you are gut shot, and you are dying. Do you want to do one thing decent in your life, for a change, and talk to me about Hartwell?

Hoover was scared, and his chest was making a sucking noise.

He said, “Mr, Hartwell's in Washington, D.C. He thought
you were burned up, but wanted to make sure. He told Ed and me either one of us could outdraw and outshoot you.”

“Will the bartender here send him a telegram about me being here?” Joshua asked.

Kirby smiled, “Hell yeah. Mr. Hartwell owns this saloon. Ya didn't know that?”

Joshua started to answer but saw that Kirby Hoover's eyes were unmoving, as was his chest. He died just like that.

He went to the police department and filled out a report, then sent a telegram to Chicago reporting the incident. He also reported that Hartwell owned that saloon.

The next day, he boarded a train for Cañon City via Pueblo. He arrived in Cañon City that afternoon. Strongheart was glad to be back to southern Colorado. He loved the climate, especially the very mild winters, and the many days of sunshine. More than three hundred thirty days per year, in fact, and less than a foot of snow in the winter usually, often only an inch or so at a time. And even that was almost always gone by the following day.

The following morning, Joshua rode Eagle to the west end of town, passed the big state prison, Old Max, and went to one of his favorite places by the river near the mouth of Grape Creek where it poured into the Arkansas River. Situated very close to the east entrance of the Royal Gorge, which was known as the Grand Canyon of the Arkansas, the Hot Springs Hotel was one of Joshua Strongheart's favorite spots. It was constructed in 1873 by Dr. J. L. Prentiss of Cañon City. The hotel consisted of thirty-eight rooms. It also had a very large lobby and a large dining room that also doubled as a ballroom, which cost $38,000 to build in 1873. There was also a popular swinging bridge over the river and a railroad depot as well. When Joshua had gotten shot up in a gunfight with an outlaw gang in nearby Florence several
years earlier and when he was recuperating from an attack by a large grizzly bear, he spent many days at the Hot Springs Hotel just soaking in the hot mineral water.

He decided he had a little time before the vultures would start appearing, and his arm was very sore from the bullet graze. Strongheart almost fell asleep in the hot water.

“Wal, youngster, I reckon I might jest as well soak these old bones, too,” said a voice that brought a smile to Joshua's face.

He turned to see his old white-bearded friend Zachariah Banta from Cotopaxi, about thirty miles west along the rumbling, tumbling whitewater Arkansas River.

“Zach, what a coincidence,” Strongheart said looking at the leathery-skinned seventyish or eightyish storekeeper. “How are you doing?”

Zach said, “Wal, I guess a whole lot better 'n' you. I ain't been in no shooting scrap back east, saving no purty gals.”

Joshua just shook his head. It seemed like every place that he went in the West he would find people who knew Zach from his current or one of his many past ventures. He always knew what had happened with Strongheart long before anybody else knew.

The township of Cotopaxi was located at the juncture of the railroad and river road between Cañon City and Poncha Springs a couple days' ride to the west. Because of the jutting rocks around the little community, it was named after the Cotopaxi Volcano in Ecuador, which was one of the highest active volcanoes in the world. Henry Thomas, a prospector, was the man responsible for naming Cotopaxi, which he had seen in Latin America. Strongheart had a lot of history already with Cotopaxi and with Zach Banta, a man always with a twinkle in his eye and something clever to say.

Chances were, Strongheart would soon be leading or
maybe stalking Robert Hartwell and his gang in that area. He could see, from the Hot Springs Hotel, the little gulch opening for Grape Creek, and he may just lead them up that gulch for starters. Strongheart was very thankful to Brenna as this was indeed his area now, and he knew it all very well. Joshua spent an hour in the mineral springs and had a good talk with Zach, telling him about his most recent adventure.

Two hours later found him on the river road to visit his young friend Scottie Middleton. Joshua thought back to his very first encounter with Scottie.