William Johnstone - Butchery of the Mountain Man

“You and Jackson had just been attacked by six Pawnee,” Professor Armbruster said, “but you drove them off.”

“So we did.”

“Did you have any more Indian encounters?”

“Not immediately. We kept moving north until we left Colorado, then we wound up at Fort Laramie, in Wyoming.”

“Laramie?”

Smoke thought of the car ad Sally had read to him yesterday—“Somewhere west of Laramie”—and he smiled. “No, sir, we were at Fort Laramie,” he said.

Fort Laramie

When Smoke and John reached Fort Laramie, they were stopped by the guard at the front gate of the post.

“What is your business here?” the guard at the gate asked.

“We have no particular business, private,” John said. “We are just passing through and thought we would take shelter here for a couple of days.”

“You’re both civilians, I can’t let you through.”

“I realize that you can’t authorize our entry. But your post commandant can. So I’m asking you to call the corporal of the guard so that he may escort us to the post headquarters where we will secure permission from your commanding officer.”

“The corporal won’t take you there.”

“Oh, I think he will,” John said. “Army regulations twenty-two-dash-five specifically state that civilian personnel may be billeted on a military reservation under certain conditions where safety is concerned, and permission for such visits may be granted at any time by authority of the post commandant.”

The guard looked at John with a shocked expression on his face, but he was no more shocked than Smoke.

“Go ahead, Private, call him,” John said. There was an air of authority in John’s voice that Smoke had not heard before.

“Corporal of the guard, front gate!” the private called.

The other sentries repeated the gate guard’s call until, after a few moments a corporal came strolling up to the gate.

“What is it?” the corporal asked.

“Corporal, under the provisions of army regulations twenty-two-dash-five, my friend and I wish to petition the post commandant for permission to spend a few nights inside the fort,” John said.

“I ain’t never heard of no regulation like that,” the private said. “Have you ever heard of it, Corporal?”

“Of course I have,” the corporal replied. He stared at John and Smoke for a moment, then nodded. “All right, come with me.”

“John, is there such a regulation?” Smoke asked, quietly, as they followed the sergeant across the open area toward the headquarters building.

John chuckled. “I don’t have the slightest idea,” he said. “But it has gotten us this far.”

Smoke laughed. “Yeah, it has.”

“Wait here,” the corporal of the guard said when he led them into the orderly room. The first sergeant and the company clerk were both sitting at their desks.

“Top, these men want to see the commandant,” the corporal of the guard said.

The first sergeant gave Smoke and John a cursory glance, then nodded and stepped into the CO’s office. A moment later a major stepped out of his office. At first there was a rather irritated look on his face, but when he saw John, he broke into a wide grin.

“Captain Jackson!” he said.

“Lieutenant Sanderson,” John replied. “I haven’t seen you since Gettysburg. What happened to you? Other than the fact that you made major?”

“I went to the hospital in Washington, D.C., and when I recovered, I was assigned to General Grant’s staff.”

“Ha. I can see why you made major then. Oh, this is my friend, Smoke Jensen.”

“Mr. Jensen,” Sanderson said.

“Smoke, during the war Bobby Sanderson and I served together.”

“Served together? Don’t you mean you were my commanding officer?” Sanderson replied.

“Congratulations on making major, though I’m sure the congratulations are late,” John said.

“What brings you to Fort Laramie?” Sanderson asked.

“I’m in a new business now,” John said. “I’m a fur trapper, and my friend, who knows about these things, tells me that the best place to trap now is in Montana. So we’re headed up that way, and I thought you might be generous enough to put us up here for a couple of nights.”

“Of course I will,” Sanderson said. “And you are here just in time to help us celebrate Independence Day.”

“Independence Day? What day is this, anyway?”

“July third,” Sanderson said.

“Yes, we would love to celebrate the Fourth with you and the troops.”

“First Sergeant, get these gentlemen billeted in the officers’ quarters,” Sanderson said.

“Yes, sir. If you gentlemen will come with me?” the first sergeant invited.

The first thing Smoke did after being assigned a room in the bachelor officers’ quarters, was to take a bath, and get into clean clothes. Although he had bathed in streams, this was his first real tub bath in over a year, and he sat in the tub for a long time, just luxuriating in the water. He heard a knock on the door.

“Smoke? Smoke, are you in there?”

“Yeah, John, if you don’t mind seeing me in the bathtub, come on in,” Smoke said.

When John came in, Smoke was surprised to see that he was wearing the uniform of an army captain.

“I’ll bet you didn’t even know I had this uniform with me, did you?”

Smoke chuckled. “Hell, John, I didn’t even know you had ever been in the army. Let alone an officer. And a captain, no less. That’s pretty damn impressive.”

“Not all that impressive. The army was huge during the war, and it required a lot of officers. Those of us who had college educations sort of had a leg up on the rest of the troops.”

“Well, it impresses me,” Smoke said.

“Bobby has invited us to his quarters for supper tonight,” John said. “I took the liberty of accepting the invitation for both of us. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, why should I mind? I never turn down a free meal. But I’m afraid the best I can do for clothes would be a buckskin outfit that’s clean, instead of the dirty one I’ve been wearing. Hand me that towel, would you?”

“Your buckskins will be fine,” John said, handing Smoke the towel as he stepped from the tub.

“I have to tell you, I’m a little out of place here, on an army post,” Smoke said. “I wanted to go to the war, but my pa and my brother went, and my sister ran off, so that left me to take care of ma.”

“You would have been too young anyway, wouldn’t you?” John asked.

“I could have lied about it.”

“Well, for the time being, you and I will be trading places,” John said. “You have the lead when we are in the mountains; I’ll take the lead while we are here, on the army post.”

“Sounds like the best way to handle it,” Smoke said.

Major Sanderson lived in the commandant’s house, which was a rather large, two-story home with Corinthian columns supporting the porch roof. Smoke and John were met at the front door by an enlisted man who was Sanderson’s striker.

“Come in, sirs, the major is expecting you.”

“Thank you, Private,” John said.

Major Sanderson and his wife were waiting in the parlor.

“Hello, John. I would like you to meet my wife, Cindy.”

John smiled. “You have done well, Bobby, both in your military career and your choice of a wife. What a lovely lady you have married. I’m most pleased to meet you, Mrs. Sanderson.”

“Mrs. Sanderson,” Smoke said with a slight nod of his head.

“I have heard much about you, Captain Jackson,” Cindy said. “It is good to finally meet you.”

For the next half hour, and even after they were called to dinner, Smoke listened, with interest, to the stories John and Major Sanderson exchanged.