Philip Dampier's Blog

Shootout at the Spring

Episode Eighteen

Ben

Two of Ben’s best friends, Corporals Isaiah Barnes and Joseph Mears, had been struck through the chest with flint-headed arrows. When the battle was over and the Indians were driven off, Ben had gone to them both. He broke the arrows in two, but he had no bandages or medicine. All he had was comforting words, and he shared them with his two fatally wounded friends.

Isaiah had been an enslaved person in Missouri and joined the army when he was set free after the war. Ben’s heart had been broken by the stories Isaiah had told him over the last year and a half they had served in the same company. Being a black man and living among white people, Ben had experienced discrimination, but the brutality reported by Isaiah was hard to believe. Joseph, like Ben, had been born a free man; his family were merchants in Philadelphia, and like Ben, he had not known poverty or abuse.

Ben spent his last day in the corps burying two of his fellow Buffalo Soldiers and close friends. The worst thing was there was no end to the carnage in sight. The railroad pressed on, and the Indians fought to stop it, and the soldiers fought to stop the Indians. He was able to buy Old Joe from the army due to the fact that Joe was getting a little old for the hard work expected from the service. Together, they had set out not really knowing what they would find or what they might do. The journey was just a means of escape from the constant demands of war on the plains.

Ben had an idea of what he wanted from life, and he was not naïve to the problems he would have back in civilization. He sensed that things would be different on the frontier, especially in the under-settled territories. The quietness and solitude of the unclaimed land called to him.

He had run into Marshal Chad by chance; maybe it was a sign that God had something more in line for him than just shooting Indians so the government could steal their land. Being a deputy marshal was honorable work; he knew that, and if he didn’t like it better than the army, he would move on when the time came. The pay would help him with what he had saved to get his own place. That’s what he wanted.

Chad tried to think about what he would do with Lance when he got him back to Fort Pierre. He found he was unable to concentrate on any set plans because his mind kept switching to Nancy. She must be out of her mind with worry by now. I shouldn’t have put her through this, but I had to do my job, and I had no way of knowing that it would turn out to be such a long trip. I just hope she’s all right. What if she thinks I’m dead and not coming back? Would she go back to Cumberland? She had friends there; she could get her old job back for sure.

No. No, she wouldn’t do that. She would wait. She would not give up hope until she got word to the contrary. I wish she had had time to make a woman friend or two. She didn’t seem to want anyone in her life but me. I will try to change that. This same scenario could well happen again, and probably will happen again. I will take some time off when I get home, and we will spend it together. I will make it up to her somehow.

Chad blinked. The view in front of him had blurred as his mind had drifted to Nancy. It cleared of a sudden, and the vista of tall trees lining a river came into view. The shadow he and his horse were making stretched some distance in front of them. The day had been long, much of it lost in thought. He glanced back over his shoulder at the riders behind him and the position of the sun. It was just above the small mountain they had left behind at noon—maybe two hours or so until dark.

He called back to Ben: “Picking up the pace, the Cheyenne River is up ahead, and I would like to make its banks before dark.”

The Cheyenne River was just as he remembered it. He felt like a bath, and as soon as they could set up camp, he intended to get one. Lance was helped off his horse and placed next to a tree; his hands were bound at the wrists and his feet were tied together again. All the horses and the mule were stripped and wiped dry and, brushed well, and tied near the edge of the river. The two lawmen spread their bedrolls, built a fire pit, and started a fire.

“I’m full of dust and grit, Ben. If you’ll keep your eye on Lance, I’m going to take a dip in the river.”

“How deep is that river?”

“Not too deep. You can wade even in the middle; why?”

“I can’t swim, but I wouldn’t mind washing off some.”

“You can be next. Nothing to fear; the current isn’t too strong here. Just enough to wash the dirt downstream. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Actually, it took longer than he thought, as the water was cooler than the air but it felt good once he got used to it. Out of the water, he lay on his bedroll in the dying sun to dry while Ben tried his luck.

“Ohhh! Darnation! Why didn’t you tell me the water was so cold,” came Ben’s voice from the edge of the stream.

“I thought it was just right,” Chad said and laughed just a little.

“It’s going to freeze the hair right off my body. Can you hear my teeth?”

There was some intermittent splashing and groaning before Ben came up the bank and into the waning sun, where he danced around, swinging his arms and shivering. Then he grabbed his blanket and, wrapped it around him, and squatted by the fire.

“I hate being covered with dust, but my next bath will be in a hotel with hot, and I do mean hot, water,” Ben said.

Chad dressed and began preparing supper. There was venison left, and he sliced it up and prepared a rack for drying a large amount of it. He thought about trying to catch some fish but figured they had disturbed the water enough to put the fish down. Besides, they should make it to the spring by dusk the next day; the place where he had met Luke and it held plenty of fish.

“How far to Fort Pierre, Marshal?”

“Two days if we don’t get snow again. The old fort can’t come soon enough.”

“What you gone do with our prisoner?”

“I hope the army will take him. If not, then he’ll have to go on to Omaha, I suppose. I hope not. I’ve had enough traveling for a while. Any more of that coffee left?”

“Might be enough for two, not for three, though.”

“Too bad. If you’ll fetch it, I’ll heat the water.”

Later, the two marshals sat on the ground watching the venison dry, nursing the dregs of their cups, and listening to the sounds of cicadas and flowing water. Upstream, they heard an owl. Some would have found it boring, but the two ex-soldiers found the absence of gunfire pleasant.

Ben broke the quiet, “If I had a wife and a couple of kids and maybe a small house, I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life listening to the silence.”

“If you had kids, Ben, it wouldn’t be quiet.”

“It would be good sounds, though. I’ve lived with bad sounds for too long. What about you? You want kids?”

“Hadn’t given it much thought and only been married a few months. It’s bad enough leaving Nancy alone. Leaving her and little ones would really spook me.”

“The happiness they would bring you would outweigh the anxiety. I want two boys I can teach to shoot and ride and be gentlemen.”

“Me, I want to be in my own bed and feel my wife’s warm body next to mine and go to sleep with her arms around me. Right now, that’s what I want. It’s been nine days now, I think.”

“Amen.”