Chapter 14

"The government's mark is on the back of the label," Hunter insisted, bending over Ben McGarrity's desk and pointing to a stamped impression in the shape of an eagle. "It means that can of milk came from one of the licensed traders."

McGarrity moved the paper closer to the lit lamp and nodded. "And you think one of those men is trading with the Sioux illegally?"

"Condensed milk is too expensive to be on the list of approved trade goods," Hunter said, "yet this can got to the encampment somehow. Whoever traded it is probably trading for other things—like arms and ammunition."

"Like the cache you discovered in Red Cloud's village." The major sat silent for a moment. "And you think this second mark, this horseshoe, will tell us who the trader is?"

"Yes, I do."

"But why would any trader put his mark on contraband?"

"It might have been put there by mistake," Hunter suggested. "Or he might figure the odds of someone tracking down a single can of milk were pretty long ones."

McGarrity nodded and rubbed at his beard. "I'll have someone go fetch Jessup. He's probably more familiar with the traders' marks than anyone."

Tyler Jessup took his own sweet time answering Major McGarrity's summons. When he finally made his way into the office, he was all bristle and blather.

"I don't see why you have to take a man away from his work to answer some damn question," he complained. "Now that the weather's better, the wagons are coming through thick and fast, and with the money freed up at payday, I'm downright busy. I can't afford to have the store locked up for long, so you better tell me what's so all-fired important."

Hunter had seen McGarrity chew up far fiercer men than Jessup and sat back to enjoy the fireworks.

"Well now, Mr. Jessup," McGarrity drawled. "You're here in this fort at the behest of the U.S. Army in general and me in particular. You set your hours by my clock, and the poker game in your back room goes on because I choose to look the other way. Don't you forget for a moment how all this works." He cleared his throat. "Now since we have that clarified, Mr. Jalbert and I have need of your expertise."

Jessup scowled in consternation, knowing he was caught.

"I have the label from a can of milk," McGarrity began to explain, "that was stamped and sold by one of the licensed traders. But on closer inspection, we discovered there's a second stamp."

"It's how we know whose goods are whose when they're shipped west," the sutler volunteered. "Each of us has a different mark."

"Then I would like you to identify the trader who handled this particular can." McGarrity handed the label across his desk and turned up the wick on the lamp.

"You get this up in Indian country?" the sutler asked. It wasn't a particularly inspired guess. Everyone at the fort knew where Hunter had been.

"Well, damn!" Jessup exclaimed when McGarrity inclined his head. "I knew she was up to something when I sold her that milk."

"This is your mark?" the major asked. "This horseshoe?"

"It sure enough is," Jessup confirmed. "My mam used to call me 'Lucky' 'cause she won a big bet on a horse race the day I was born. I been using that horseshoe to mark things all my life."

"And how could you possibly remember who bought this particular can of milk?" the major wanted to know.

"I remember 'cause she bought 'em all. Eighteen cans."

"And who was that?" Hunter asked, his patience wearing thin.

Jessup grinned, knowing he was about to offer up someone's future. "That squaw woman."

"Squaw woman?"

"The one Captain Reynolds married."

Hunter's stomach pitched. "Cass Reynolds?"

"What would Mrs. Reynolds want with eighteen cans of milk?" McGarrity asked, glancing across first at Jessup and then at him.

Considering where he'd found this, the answer seemed obvious.

"Your West Point perfect captain knew about it, too." Jessup was taking a shine to the role of informant. "Reynolds came in on payday and chewed my head off over that bill. I told him then exactly what I'm telling you."

Hunter narrowed his eyes. He didn't doubt Jessup's word. The man was having too much fun causing trouble to have made this up.

Still, it didn't make sense. Hunter knew just how hard Cass was trying to be a good wife to the captain. Why would she deliberately jeopardize his position and her own by selling unauthorized goods to the Indians?

"You going to arrest that gal?" Jessup prodded McGarrity. "She's not to be trusted, not with that heathen mark of hers. Light-fingered, she is, too. She tried to steal from me when she first come. Could be spying for them redskins."

Anger flared in McGarrity's eyes. "We don't condemn people out of hand here, Mr. Jessup. If Mrs. Reynolds sold that milk to the Indians, there must be an explanation for it."

"Explanation, shit! She's a bad one. I knew it the first time I clapped eyes on her." When neither Hunter nor McGarrity jumped on the bait, Jessup shoved to his feet. "So am I done? Can I get on back to my store?"

The major nodded, and Jessup left.

Hunter folded up in Jessup's chair, grappling with the sutler's revelations. McGarrity looked nearly as confused as he felt.

"It isn't possible Cassandra is more than she claims, is it? The Cheyenne didn't send her back to inform on us, did they?"

Hunter shook his head. "You know as well as I do that Cass is no spy, but it looks as if she's the one who gave the Indians milk. We're going to have to question her—"

"Major?" One of the orderlies knocked on the door to McGarrity's office and poked his head inside. "Captain Reynolds just rode into the fort, and it appears he's got a prisoner."

* * *

From the moment he turned his ambition to soldiering, Drew Reynolds had imagined a time when he and his men would ride back to their fort battered, victorious, and covered in glory. Returning with a single prisoner and a herd of rustled horses wasn't everything he'd dreamed about, but they'd recovered more than two dozen head of army stock and caught the redskin who stole them dead to rights. If he hadn't been all trussed up in military regulations, Drew would have hanged the thieving bastard on the spot.

He rode right up to headquarters with his prisoner in tow. He needed a sip of satisfaction after all the months of waiting to fight, and he intended to help himself to it.

Drew dismounted, tightened his fists in the Indian's clothes, and dragged him off his horse. The man's hands were bound behind him, and he fell facedown in the dirt. Drew grabbed the redskin's shoulders and hauled him to his feet just as Major McGarrity strode out the door and onto the porch.

"What's all this?" he demanded.

"My men and I caught a horse thief, sir, on our way back from Fort Laramie," Drew reported. "He had about two dozen head of army horses and mules and hadn't even bothered to doctor the brands. There's no telling where he stole them or how many soldiers he killed to do it."

McGarrity nodded in approval. "Good work, Captain Reynolds," he said, "but if I'm not mistaken, most of the stock the army loses is run off while it's grazing. Let's not make this worse than it is."

Drew felt the color come up in his face. "This man's still a rustler, sir."

McGarrity acknowledged his point and turned to the Indian. "And what do you have to say for yourself?"

When the thief didn't answer, Jalbert stepped up to take his part. "I think he's Arikara, sir, and may not speak any English."

"Arikara?" the major echoed, his brows rising in surprise. "What's one of your people doing this far south?"

"The tribe has been pretty much displaced by stronger neighbors," Jalbert answered.

"By the Sioux, you mean."

Jalbert nodded. "The tribes are old enemies. With settlers moving west along the Missouri River, they're rubbing against each other more than usual. When there's a confrontation, it's the Arikara who usually get the brunt of it. Let me see what I can find out."

While the half-breed and the prisoner spouted gibberish, Drew swatted the dust from his hat and uniform and mopped the sweat off his face with the back of his arm. He was surprised how good it felt to get back to the rough-hewn cabins and more demanding duty. Being at Fort Laramie had unsettled him in a way he couldn't quite explain. It made him feel ineffective and isolated, as if army life weren't quite as satisfying as it had always been.

Jalbert concluded his conversation with the Indian prisoner. "Many Buffalo is an Arikara who came south to see about signing on as a scout," Jalbert told them. "Somewhere along the way he heard that the army was paying a bounty to anyone who returned their stolen animals."

"That isn't true, is it?" Drew demanded, already beginning to see the trend of the Indian's lies.

"Not that I've heard," McGarrity answered. "But there's no telling what some post commander low on horses may have offered."

"Whether it's true or not," Jalbert went on, "Many Buffalo saw it as an opportunity to earn some money and endear himself to his prospective employer. He says he stole the horses and mules from a small band of Arapaho camped up near Lodgepole Creek. He was driving the herd to Fort Laramie in hope of collecting the bounty and signing on with Major North's scouts."

"If all that's true," Drew challenged, "why did he run when he saw us coming?"

"Wouldn't you have run if you were him?"

Goddamn Jalbert for taking the Indian's part. Drew could feel his face get hot again. "Certainly I would run if I were a horse thief caught red-handed."

"There will have to be a hearing in either case," McGarrity broke in. "We'll call it for eleven o'clock tomorrow. In the meantime, Corporal"—McGarrity motioned one of the orderlies forward—"lock this man in the guardhouse."

As Jalbert translated, panic flared in his prisoner's eyes. Drew had heard redskins hated being locked up, but it took a corporal and two privates dragging him to get Many Buffalo the length of the parade ground into the guardhouse.

Drew had just gathered up the reins of his horse to leave when a towheaded fireball came charging across the parade ground toward him.

"Papa!" Meggie shrieked, throwing herself against him and wrapping her arms around his waist. "Papa! You've been gone so long!"

Drew grinned and caught his daughter up in his arms. Laughing, he bussed her on the cheek and suffered through a neck-snapping hug.

"We made rabbit-fur slippers while you were gone," she declared. "And frosted fried cakes. And built a bed for my dolly out of sticks."

Drew looked up and saw Cassie watching them. His belly suddenly buzzed with uneasiness, and his palms were damp inside his leather gauntlets.

"I'm glad you both managed to keep busy. I thought about you and wondered what you were doing."

He extended his hand to Cassie, and she came toward him across the dusty grass. She smiled, tentative and almost hopeful.

"Reynolds?" Major McGarrity's voice shattered the faint connection he and Cassie had made. "I know you must be eager to spend time with your family after being away, but there's something we need to discuss." He hesitated ominously. "Would you and Cassandra step into my office?"

Drew felt Cassie stiffen beside him. There was something in her eyes—dread or uncertainty or maybe even guilt—that turned the pleasure of his return to towering apprehension. Still, he acknowledged the order with a nod and guided Cassie up the steps.

* * *

Cassie handed Meggie off to one of the orderlies in the anteroom and followed Drew into McGarrity's office, uneasiness swarming over her like ants. When Hunter followed them inside and closed the door, the air in her lungs went cold and thin.

McGarrity motioned her and Drew to the chairs before his desk and settled himself behind it. "Jalbert has just returned from the Sioux and Cheyenne camps up along the Powder River," the major began. "While he was there he discovered something that seemed quite odd."

"Odd?" Drew asked.

He didn't seem to know what McGarrity was referring to, but Cassie had begun to suspect.

"Jalbert found a can of condensed milk that appears to be from one of the licensed traders," McGarrity enlightened them.

Cassie's face flushed with guilt.

"Condensed milk?" Drew asked as if he were genuinely confused. "What's so odd about that? Aren't goods traded to the Indians all the time?"

Drew was being noble. He was trying to protect her. Cassandra warmed all the way down to her toes just knowing that.

"Goods that are sent as annuities go through the Indian agents," McGarrity explained. "Things we send directly are from the commissary department. Both are distinctly marked. Things that come from the licensed traders are marked, too, so they can be regulated."

"It isn't as if we're talking about someone providing the Indians with guns or whiskey or ammunition," Drew argued reasonably. "We're talking about milk..."

"Where there are cans of contraband milk," Hunter put in, "there might well be other things."

"It's something we have to investigate," McGarrity added.

Cassie knew what they were driving at and couldn't let Drew jeopardize his position here at the fort. She had to own up to what she'd done.

"I bought eighteen cans of condensed milk at the sutler's store" she admitted, "and gave them to one of the Indian women."

Neither Hunter nor Major McGarrity seemed surprised by her admission.

"But why did you give an Indian woman milk?" Hunter asked her. "Didn't you know what you were doing was wrong?"

Cassie turned to look at him, surprised that what Hunter thought of her mattered so much.

"I knew I wasn't supposed to buy the milk," she admitted. "I knew I was wrong to give it to Runs Like a Doe, but she came to me and told me her sister's baby would die without it. She asked if I could help her, and after all she'd done for me when I was a captive, I couldn't refuse."

It had been a woman's transaction, based on things far too simple for men to understand.

"Did you give her anything but the milk?" McGarrity asked.

Cassie shook her head.

"Did she ask for anything else?"

"Nothing at all."

"Canned milk is expensive," he went on. "How did you pay for eighteen cans of it?"

"I charged them to Drew's account."

McGarrity shifted his gaze to Drew. "And why didn't you report this, Captain Reynolds?"

Cassie spoke up before Drew could answer. "He didn't know about the milk until the bill came due. I'd bought and given it to Runs Like a Doe weeks before."

"But how did a can of contraband milk get from a Cheyenne woman to the Sioux encampment?" Hunter asked her.

Cassie looked from one man to the other. "I don't know. Sometimes the villages get together for a hunt or a feast." She realized that wasn't the explanation Hunter was looking for, but it was the best she could do.

McGarrity rubbed his beard and glanced at Hunter. "What do you think?"

Hunter shrugged and hunkered down next to Cassie's chair. "It's important that the army and the Bureau of Indian Affairs control what goods make their way to the tribes. You understand that, don't you?"

Cassie didn't see the sense in such control, but nodded anyway.

"Then give the major your word you won't pass supplies to the Cheyenne again."

It was the promise Drew had demanded of her a week or more before. She did what she'd done then, she lied to them.

"I won't," she said.

The major shifted uneasily before he went on. "You haven't seen anyone else you recognize here at the fort, have you, Cassandra? You haven't spoken to them or passed on information?"

Drew shoved to his feet beside her. "For God's sake, Ben, she doesn't pass on information! Nor will she. Nor will I. Nor will Meggie, for that matter. Are you satisfied?"

Cassie stared at him, surprised by the intensity of his defense.

McGarrity made a conciliatory gesture. "They are questions that need to be asked. You know that as well as I do."

"I won't tell anyone anything," Cassie promised, and meant it.

McGarrity drew a breath and nodded, still obviously troubled but satisfied.

"May we go now?" Drew asked his commanding officer. "I've been riding since well before sunup. I caught and delivered a horse thief and nearly thirty head of stock. And frankly, I'm tired."

He pulled Cassie to her feet.

"I'm sorry about this, Reynolds," McGarrity said.

Drew didn't reply, just eased Cassie toward the door.

"Don't forget I'll need you for the hearing tomorrow," the major reminded him. "That's another matter entirely."

Cassie saw Drew turn and give McGarrity a long, withering glance. "Oh, I'll be there to testify, sir. I'll be there to hear the verdict, too. And then, when all's said and done, I'll be there to watch that redskin hang."