William Johnstone - Butchery of the Mountain Man

“What about the garden?”

“It’ll be all right for a few days.”

With baby Kirby riding in a cradleboard hanging from the side of Claire’s horse, John and Claire rode back to Fort Shaw with Lieutenant Murphy and his military detachment.

Fort Shaw was located on the south side of Sun River, constructed of palisade logs, and perched high on the end of a bluff that protruded over the water. There were projecting blockhouses on corners opposite each other, from which the soldiers had a good view of the approach.

The front gate to the post was tightly closed as Lieutenant Murphy and his party approached.

“Hello, the post!” Lieutenant Murphy shouted. “Open the gate!”

The gate was opened early enough so that there was no need for the group to break stride. They rode right through with Lieutenant Murphy returning the salute of the private at the gate. When they reached the parade ground, Lieutenant Murphy halted the detail.

“Dismount!” he ordered.

Claire looked John, and he smiled. “That’s not us,” he said.

The soldiers dismounted.

“Fall out!” Lieutenant Murphy ordered.

As the soldiers led their mounts to the stable, Lieutenant Murphy indicated than John and Claire should follow him. They rode to the headquarters building then dismounted, and tied their horses off at the hitching rail.

John took Kirby from his cradleboard, and handed him to Claire, then they followed Lieutenant Murphy inside.

“Sergeant Major, is Major Clinton in his office?” Lieutenant Murphy asked.

“Yes, sir,” the first sergeant major answered.

Murphy went over to the door leading to the commanding officer’s office, tapped lightly, then pushed it open and stuck his head in.

“Sir, I have Mr. Jackson.”

John couldn’t hear the major’s answer, but he did hear the lieutenant’s response.

“Yes, sir, she is with him.” The lieutenant turned toward John. “Come ahead,” he said.

“John, the baby and I will wait here,” Claire said.

“No,” Lieutenant Murphy said, quickly. “The major wants to see both of you.”

“Both of us?” John asked. He wasn’t sure what this was about, but he wasn’t sure he liked it. If the major planned to give him some trouble because he was married to an Indian woman, he wasn’t going to put up with it. Taking Claire by the arm, he led her into the commanding officer’s office.

“Mr. Jackson, Mrs. Jackson,” the major said with a broad smile. He was standing and he came toward them with his hand extended. “I’m Major Clinton. Thank you so much for coming.”

The major’s demeanor allowed John to dismiss his apprehension. He wasn’t acting like someone who was going to give him any trouble.

“Please,” he said, “I know you have had a long ride. Have a seat.” He extended his arm toward the side wall, where there was a sofa and a chair.

John and Claire sat on the sofa, and she held Kirby on her lap. Kirby stared at the major, his dark brown eyes open wide.

“I know you are wondering why I asked you here,” Major Clinton said. “I have a favor to ask of you and, if you choose not to do it, I will certainly understand. In the meantime, I’ve made quarters available for you here, on the post, for the night, so you can start back, rested, tomorrow.”

“What do you want, Major?” John asked.

“I want you and your wife to be an emissary for me,” Major Clinton said.

“What sort of an emissary?”

“A peace emissary to the Crow Indians. I thought, with your wife, you would be an ideal ambassador.”

“My wife is Lakota, not Crow,” John said. “The Lakota and the Crow are traditional enemies.”

“Can you speak the Crow language?” Major Clinton asked.

“I can speak,” Claire said.

“It could save hundreds of lives,” Major Clinton said. “All I need is for the Crow to understand that we will not encroach on their land, that we will in fact protect their land from any white men who try to violate their borders. Try and make her understand that.”

“I won’t try to make her understand anything,” John said. “She will make her own decision, and I will honor it.”

“I understand,” Major Clinton said. “Well, I do hope you and Mrs. Jackson will be our guests for dinner this evening. And I promise you,” he said, holding up his finger and smiling, “I will make no further petitions. As I said, whether or not you and Mrs. Jackson consent to do this, will be up to you.”

“Thank you,” John said.

The major’s wife was a rather plump, blond woman with bright blue eyes. “Oh, it is so wonderful to have dinner guests,” she said when John and Claire arrived.

“I must apologize for our dress,” John said. “We had no idea we would be invited to your beautiful home.”

“Oh, nonsense, you are dressed just fine. And what a lovely thing you are,” she said, gushingly, to Claire. “Oh, may I hold the child for a moment? Our own son is back East, attending the Military Academy at West Point,” she said. “It’s been so long since I held a little one.”

“Yes, you may hold him,” Claire said, extending the baby to her.

“Oh, my, what a handsome creature you are,” Mrs. Clinton said. “Yes, you are. Indeed, you are.” Kirby smiled at her and a line of spittle trailed from his mouth.

True to his promise, Major Clinton made no more mention of the mission he wanted John and Claire to undertake. Instead they talked about St. Louis. John and Claire had just come from there, and Major Clinton had been stationed there at Jefferson Barracks.

After a pleasant dinner, and because Kirby had fallen asleep, John made his excuses, and said they needed to get the baby to bed.

“In regard to your request, Major, I will give you an answer in the morning,” he said.

“Good, thank you, that’s all I ask,” Major Clinton replied. “I’m gratified that you are still thinking about it, rather than an outright dismissal of the request.”

The empty quarters of what would normally be the residence of an unmarried junior officer, was for them. As they walked back to the quarters John heard the first note of the bugle .

“What is that music?” Claire asked. “It is so beautiful. But it is sad.”

“It is called ‘Taps,’” John said. “It is the bugle call that puts the soldiers to bed at night. Would you like to know the words?”

“Yes.”

John sung the words, softly, as the bugler repeated the call.

“Day is done,

Gone the sun,

From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky.

All is well, safely rest,

God is nigh.”

“Those are good words,” Claire said.

Looking around the garrison, John saw that all the buildings, the officers’ quarters, and the soldiers’ barracks, were dark and quiet.

“Come,” he said. “We must be to our bed.”

Later, after Kirby was asleep, John and Claire lay together in bed, with Claire’s head on John’s shoulder.

“John, do you want to do what the major has asked us to do?”

“It is up to you, Claire. You are the one who will have to do the talking.”

“Yes, I will do the talking, but you will give me the words to say.”

“As I said, it is up to you.”

“If it will make peace, I say we should go.”

“All right,” John said. “I’ll tell the major in the morning. We’ll go.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

In the village of Iron Bull

When John, Claire, and the baby rode into the village, every villager crowded around them, men, women, and children. One of the older boys, who was about fourteen, ran up to touch John’s leg. Then, with a loud shout he ran back into the crowd.