Shootout at the Spring
Episode Seventeen
Chad looked down at the front of his leather vest. He had forgotten the bullet that went into his upper shoulder in the excitement of arresting the outlaw that had put it there. He glanced at his prisoner and smiled. “That hole and the bullet that made it was the courtesy of our friend Lance here. The dishonorable robber of banks ambushed me and then left me for dead. In addition to bank robbery in several states, he will be charged with the attempted murder of a law officer and whatever else the federal prosecutors can come up with.”
The soldier stared at Lance, who stared back. “He doesn’t look all that bad. Ain’t much to him, is there?”
“He’s as crooked as a sidewinder. Now tell me about yourself, Sergeant. Are you on a special assignment? You’re a long way from any army post, especially cavalry units.”
“I’ve left the service. I had enough of killing Comanches who were just trying to protect their way of life. Same as we did in the war. I know the railroad is important, but it seems like we could have found some way to pay them for their land and left the buffalo alone.”
“I see you’re still in uniform, though.”
“Yes, sir. I thought it might make the journey safer, but that might not be so. I haven’t encountered any Indians since I left the Cheyenne in Nebraska. The Sioux must be gathering somewhere else.”
“What are your plans? What do you want to do?”
“Get a job, save up some money, and find a place similar to where we are right now and raise cattle.”
“You thought about law enforcement?”
“You mean like a sheriff or policeman?”
“I mean like a marshal, a U.S. Marshal.”
“Don’t know much about it. I just need a job that allows me to survive and save a stake.”
“We need marshals in the territories, and at this moment, I need a deputy marshal. I’ll give you the particulars, and if you’re interested, I’ll swear you in and put you on the payroll beginning today. You’ll need to shed the army uniform, though.”
There followed a long and exhaustive question and answering session. Chad was glad to see that Benjamin was interested in finding out all he could before giving his answer. It was better if he actually wanted the job rather than just taking it for the immediate benefit. Shortly before the coffee was gone, along with the sunlight, Chad swore in Benjamin McCabe, lately of Kansas, as a Deputy U.S. Marshal. Chad rummaged through his possibles bag until he found the star he had pinned on Wyatt Brownlow.
“The last man to wear this badge was a friend from the war and a heck of a deputy. I expect you to be both.”
“Thank you, Marshal Pennington, for showing such faith in me. I’ll do my best to become as good a marshal as I was a Buffalo Soldier.”
“Buffalo Soldier? What is a Buffalo Soldier?”
Benjamin gave a short laugh. “It’s the name the Cheyenne gave to the 9th and 10th Cavalry. They thought that our dark, curly hair looked like the fur of the buffalo. The Cheyenne have a lot of respect for the Buffalo Soldiers.”
“I think I’m going to feel the same way, Benjamin.”
“Please call me Ben if we’re going to work together.”
“Fine with me. My name is Chad. Your first assignment is to see that our prisoner rubs his horse down. He is not to be trusted, not even a little. He would take your life and not even pause. Show him no mercy, Deputy Ben.”
The next morning, when the small group broke camp, they left the lingering smell of fresh coffee behind them. Chad rode out first, a lead rope attached to Lance’s horse’s halter. The harness the horse had been wearing when Lance was riding him was now tied onto the baggage of the new deputy’s mule. Lance sat astride his horse with his hands tied to the pommel. Ben brought up the rear, leading the dark-colored mule. The tall grasses stretched in rolling terrain ahead of them.
“I’m hoping we can make the Cheyenne River today. I have to make a short detour, however. There’s a parson up this stream, and we’re carrying the money Lance stole from him. I promised to restore it if I caught the thief. The Cheyenne is a stretch considering the condition of Lance’s horse, but I think we can do it. We have to cross that low mountain you see in front of us. On top of that rise is where I met the parson. All of that slowed me down, but going back, we’re just gonna ride right through,” Chad said.
“Sounds good, Marshal. I think Old Joe can keep up. He’s a pretty strong mule, even if he’s a little stubborn. ‘Course, most mules are stubborn. They have a strong sense of right and wrong, and it’s hard to get one to do something they’re opposed to. Mules also have a strong sense of self-preservation.”
“So do bank robbers, especially this one. There’s no telling what he might do if he gets the chance. Just keep your eye on that outlaw following behind me. He’s a bad one, and I don’t want to lose him. He’s caused me some pain, not to mention keeping me from my bride for over a week.”
“Oh? Tell me about the missus, Marshal.”
This was a subject that Chad enjoyed talking about, and the miles whisked away as Chad’s story unfolded. Ben moved up beside Lance so that he could hear Chad without him having to raise his voice.
“I met Nancy on my way home from the war. I was wounded and stopped in Cumberland, Maryland, to rest up. She worked at the hotel, and I fell for her right away. I didn’t ask her to marry me because I wasn’t sure it was the right thing to do. I only knew her for two days, and I didn’t have a job, and I was messed up in my head from all the killing. I was still hearing canons and mortars and the screaming of the dying and wounded. I left town and went home to Ohio. I hated every minute away from her.
“Then I wound up in Wyoming in a gosh-awful mess, and somewhere in the middle of that mess, I realized that I wasn’t going to be happy until I asked her to marry me. For all I knew, she might have married someone else, and I wouldn’t have blamed her after the way I walked out on her.
“Anyway, I sent a telegram, and she wired me back to come and get her, and that’s what I did. It was the best decision I ever made, and I can’t wait to get back to her. She’s probably worried to death since I have been gone so long.”
The conversation between the two new friends continued as they rode upstream towards the spring. They passed two new sod houses under construction, bearing out the promise the preacher had made about growth in the Elk Spring area. Twice, they waded through sheep who seemed too busy eating to get out of the way. Young boys and girls waved as the riders scattered the sheep, and the little black and white dogs flew all over trying to get their flock back together.
They soon located the preacher at his new home; introductions were made all around. Chad returned the preacher’s money, which paved the way for a much-needed horse swap. The preacher felt obligated to help his former rescuer out and helped him work out a suitable mount. Lance’s tack was switched to a spry chestnut mare, and the party was soon on its way to the Cheyenne River.
The group moved across the grassland and up to the mountain where Chad had first met the preacher. There, they stopped and had a quick lunch, after which they picked their way down to the valley. Somewhere on the eastern horizon, the Cheyenne flowed through the cottonwoods. Chad picked up the pace across the hilly terrain, and the conversation gave way to silence, allowing each of the men to contemplate their own thoughts.
Ben’s mind drifted back to his last day with his fellow soldiers. He had been waiting a week for his discharge, and during the battle the day before, he had feared the paperwork might come too late. It had been an epic contest between the Buffalo Soldiers with their 0.58 Springfield long rifles and the Cheyenne and their bows. Had the sides been close to equal, it would not have been much of a fight; as it was, the soldiers were outnumbered three to one. Add to that the fact that the Cheyenne were fighting with righteous indignation while the soldiers were mostly fighting to stay alive.
Philip Dampier's Blog 