Pacific Springs, Part 2
"I can't figure you out Flint!" MacGregor complained. "You rant and rave because we insist on stopping to honor the Lord's day, always telling us we're running behind schedule. And now you're saying it's a mistake to take the cut off!"
"Yeah," Ezra Beecham agreed. "What's wrong with tryin' to save eighty-five miles?"
"Yeah, what's wrong with that?" echoed another man.
"Yeah," chimed in Howard Gibbons. "Let's try Sublette's cutoff." There were nods and murmurs of agreement among most of the men present.
Flint turned as Daniel approached. "I was thinkin' we should rest up here tonight an' head out again in the mornin'. These folks want to push through, then save time by takin' the cut off."
Daniel nodded, but he wasn't certain what the problem was. He only knew he had to talk to Emma.
"Are ya listenin', boy?" Flint leveled him with a severe frown.
Daniel nodded, trying to recall what had just been said. "I thought we decided to go south to Fort Bridger."
MacGregor stepped forward. "We did, but that was before we realized how far behind schedule we are. We'll save a week's time with the cut off."
"But they ain't no water till the Green River," Flint argued. The eagle feather in his hair fluttered in the breeze. "Yore gonna have to watch them animals. They smell water an' they'll likely stampede. Iffin ya can't keep 'em controlled, you'll lose animals or a couple'a wagons or someone's gonna get kilt."
"We'll manage." Beacham replied.
"Yeah," Pruit chimed in, supporting his friend. "We've handled some pretty tough situations and managed so far." The other men nodded their agreement.
Flint growled in frustration. "But they's plenty'a grass an' water goin' south. And Jim Bridger's got supplies and recruited oxen. Yore gonna need to trade some'a these lame, weak animals fer fresh strong ones."
"But we want to get goin' to Oregon now." Beecham whined.
"Besides," Howard Gibbons added with a sarcastic edge to his voice. "You work for us. If we want to keep movin' and take the cut off, it's your job to take us."
Flint glared at Gibbons. "Well I don't work fer no damn deserter. Ya ain't paid me a penny. These folks is what hired me to advise 'em on this trip!"
"Now hold up there Flint." MacGregor stepped between the two men. "We all voted on it, and Howard here is part of our train now. We value his opinion same as any other man."
"Iffin he was a man, he would'a gone back with that army Major and faced up to what he done." Flint shook his head. "They's somethin' wrong with that boy always twitchin' an' talkin' to hisself."
"You callin' me crazy?"
"No. I'm sayin' ya make a body nervous is all, ya lousy deserter!"
"Why you sonofa..." Gibbons lunged toward Flint just as Daniel grabbed the collar of Flint's buckskin shirt and yanked the scout backward. Beecham and MacGregor each seized one of Gibbons's arms and grappled to keep him from attacking Flint.
"Calm down," Daniel spoke softly. "He isn't worth the trouble."
"Damn deserter," Flint muttered.
"Just forget it." Daniel continued. "It's too late to do anything about it anyway."
"That's right," MacGregor concurred. "And you can't do anything about this either. We've all agreed. It's decided. We'll pull out of here in an hour and when we get to the cut off, we're taking it."
"Then what the hell did ya hire me fer iffin ya ain't gonna listen to a damn thing I say?"
"I'm not sure I know. Aside from giving away a half a dozen animals and complaining about e'ery decision we make, I can't see how you've been any help."
Flint spat in the dirt at MacGregor's feet. "Fine. I quit. Give me the rest a my money an' I'll git outta here."
MacGregor shook his head. "The deal was half when we started, half when we get there. You're breaking the contract. I don't see why we're obligated to pay anymore." The other men murmured their agreement.
Flint stiffened and leveled his narrowed eyes on MacGregor until MacGregor began to squirm. There was a silent threat in Flint's eyes that MacGregor couldn't miss. And for a brief moment Ian wondered if he had just made a terrible mistake. Then Flint turned and stalked away, his long strides quickly taking him away from the men. Daniel trailed in his wake. Ian suddenly released a breath he didn't know he had been holding.
"Are you really pulling out?" Daniel asked trying to keep pace with Flint's long angry stride.
"Yore damn straight I am."
"But..."
Suddenly Flint stopped walking and turned to his young friend. "The way I see it Dan, ya can pack up an' go to Oregon with them that's going. Or ya can change yer mind an' head to California with the others. Or ya can head south an' winter with Jim Bridger till another train comes through in the summer. Or ya can come with me. I got me a place in the mountains about a hundred miles north'a here. It's up to you. I'll be headin' out soon. Talk to yer wife an' let me know."
Daniel shifted uncomfortably and muttered. "Emma and I..., well, a little while ago she saw Annie Jane kissing me. She walked off and I don't know where she went."
"Damn it Dan, I tol' ya to stay 'way from that one."
Daniel glanced toward the wagons embarrassed by what he had to confess. "I know, but she needed help to grease the axles on their wagon. I left as soon as I got done, but she followed me and when I turned around to see what else she wanted she threw her arms around my neck and started kissing me. Emma saw the whole thing."
"Ya should'a let that Beacham kid grease her wheels. He's been wantin' to do that since we crossed the South Platte."
"Well that advice is a day late and a dollar short."
Flint chuckled. A glint of amusement replaced some of the anger in his eyes. "I reckon yore right. But in my experience it's best to let women stew a bit then bring 'em some little trinket or a bunch'a wildflowers. Then when ya got 'em interested, give 'em yer best apology."
Daniel frowned and shook his head. "I don't know, I get the feeling Emma wants something more than that from me."
When Flint didn't answer, Daniel looked up to find his friend staring intently at the trees.
"Aw shit," Flint muttered. "Jest what I need now. Another goddamn problem!"
Daniel saw them then, just emerging from the trees. Six Indians wearing paint and very little clothes. They halted some distance from the wagons, lined up side by side, ominous and still.
MacGregor and the other men spotted them next. Unnerved by the formidable presence, the group swooped en masse, like a flock of startled sparrows, toward Flint and Daniel.
"I don't work fer ya no more." Flint dismissed their plea for advice with a careless shrug.
"Wait!" MacGregor called frantically. "We'll pay you the rest of your money! Just please see what they want."
Flint turned around. MacGregor's eyes were pleading. Beacham and Pruit bobbed their heads up and down in unison behind the wagon master. Flint rubbed his hand across his jaw thoughtfully.
"They look like the same Indians we met the other day." MacGregor observed aloud. "You said they were friendly. Now they're wearing war paint."
"Them we met the other day was Cheyenne braves out huntin'. They was travelin' with a small band goin' to visit relatives. These fellers is Cheyenne too, but I don't know if they's from the same tribe." He took a step toward them and squinted. "Looks like they's carryin hoop medicine bags. That's their strongest medicine. Don't know what the problem is, but these fellers is here on some serious business. They's here fer revenge." He sighed. "Stay here. I reckon I'll see what they want." His eyes narrowed for a moment. "One of 'em looks like Two Elk, my wife's cousin."
"You have a wife?" MacGregor asked surprised.
"'Course I do," Flint grumbled. Then with a disgusted shake of his head he made his way to the small party of Cheyenne waiting near the trees.
Daniel watched him walk away, noticing the similarities between Flint and the Cheyenne he faced. The length of their dark hair and the feathers they wore. The men of the hunting party they'd met a few days ago had even worn loose buckskin shirts like Flint's, to keep from getting sunburn Flint said.
Flint remained with the Cheyenne a long time. A large crowd gathered to watch. Restless, Ian MacGregor shifted his weight back and forth. "What's he doing out there?" he wondered aloud.
"Flint says they're here for revenge." Gibbons recalled. "None of us has done anything to 'em. They prob'ly got the wrong wagon train. Maybe we should just get our guns and shoot 'em, before someone gets hurt."
Ezra Beacham agreed. A few of the other men murmured their assent.
Daniel scowled. He didn't like this new talk of guns and shooting. "Just stay calm and wait." He studied Gibbons, wondering why the man was nervously shifting his weight back and forth from foot to foot.
After nearly twenty minutes, Flint left the Indians and returned to the group by the wagons. To everyone's amazement the Indians quietly swung their horses around and disappeared into the trees.
Anxious, the men crowded around Flint. He got right to the point. "Seems a white man beat and raped a young Cheyenne girl. They reckon he come from this train."
"How do they know that?" Ezra Beacham demanded. Flint glared him into silence.
"They want the man turned over to 'em fer justice. The girl was promised to Standing Buffalo, one'a the six braves out there. I promised 'em we'd find the sonofabitch an' turn him over to 'em. They's givin' us sundown, then they'll be back to find him themselves."
"You're not seriously suggesting we turn some poor fellow over to those savages?" MacGregor asked appalled by the idea. He was not alone. The rest of the men present adamantly voiced their objections as well.
"Now hold up there jest a minute!" Flint interrupted. When he had their attention, he explained. "I ain't sayin' we turn over jest anyone, jest the guilty man. Standin' Buffalo give me a description'a the man what done it."
"And naturally you believe him." MacGregor sneered.
Flint sent the wagon master a piercing glare through narrowed hazel eyes. "Is we gonna have this discussion again?" He asked the question but his tone implied there was no need to reply.
Murmurs of discontent rippled through the men behind MacGregor. Encouraged by the support of those behind him, he challenged. "You said it yourself Flint, you're married to one of them. We know where your loyalties lie."
Flint took a menacing step toward MacGregor. "My loyalties lie with that little gal out there who didn't do nothin' 'cept go to visit her family, then got beat and violated by some white man who ain't got no business bein' on their land in the first place.
"Now yore the ones begged me to handle this. Iffin ya want me outta here jest say the word and I'll leave ya to it. But don't blame me when in a day or two half the Cheyenne Nation comes swoopin' down on ya fer revenge. An' I'll guarantee, they ain't nothin' yer fancy guns can do to stop some'a the finest warriors in the west from killin' e'ery man, woman an' child among ya." When no response was forthcoming, Flint turned away. "Come one Dan, let's git outta here."
The pair had only taken a few steps when MacGregor called them back. "All right Flint, have it your way."
Flint nodded then spoke up. "I want to know where e'ery man'a medium height with dark hair was last night. What time they was there an' who they was with." Then he leveled his gaze on MacGregor and stared straight into his soul. "An' I reckon I'll start with you."
Three hours later Flint's suspicions were confirmed when after speaking to nearly every man in camp, he had yet to talk to Howard Gibbons. Neither Gibbons nor Liam Sullivan were anywhere to be found.
"That sorry sonofabitch prob'ly hauled his ass outta here soon as he heard MacGregor agree to give him up to the Cheyenne." Flint voiced his theory to Daniel as they walked back toward the Watson wagon.
"I wonder where Liam is." Daniel mused aloud even as his blue eyes scanned the area in and around the wagon. "Emma!" He called.
"We haven't seen her, Daniel!" Replied a few folks from nearby wagons.
With a frown Daniel turned to Flint who was rubbing his jaw thoughtfully.
"Why don't ya see iffin ya can find her an' I'll meet ya back here in a bit with some horses to look for Gibbons."
Daniel nodded absently already walking away.
When Daniel returned Flint was waiting beside the wagon with two saddled horses.
"No one has seen her for hours." Daniel replied to Flint's silent question. Apprehension marred his brow with two vertical creases. "I know she was pretty upset, but it isn't like her to go off with out a word to anyone."
Flint offered him the reins of the second horse. Daniel accepted them but shook his head. "I'm sorry I can't look for Gibbons right now." He slipped his left foot into the near stirrup and swung his right leg over the back of the saddle. "I have to find Emma."
Flint mounted beside him. "Well, I don't believe in coincidences. I'm comin' with ya."
They systematically circled the camp, gradually widening the circumference with each pass. They met a few people, but no one had seen Daniel's wife. Flint rode up beside him. "It'd be easier iffin ya had some idea where she might'a gone to cool off, someplace we could start."
"Well she did mention taking a bath earlier."
Go back to our Table of Contents