Sick call was still an hour away for the soldiers of the garrison when Pepperdine arrived at Fort Dearborn’s small post hospital. The surgeon and his steward, sitting at the former’s desk, were drinking coffee liberally laced with whiskey. The doctor was a bit befuddled as he tried to place Pepperdine’s face with a name. “What company are you with?” he asked.
“I’m with the visitors,” Pepperdine mumbled. “We’re staying out by the edge of the reservation on this side of the creek.”
“Ah, yes!” the surgeon said. “The colored outfit, hey? So what can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
“I’ve come down with a cold,” Pepperdine said. “I was wondering if there was anything you could give me. We might have to travel on farther in pursuit of the hostiles from Fort Proviso.”
“Let’s have a look,” the doctor said. “By the way, my name is Markham.”
“Lieutenant Pepperdine, sir.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Markham said. He placed a hand on Pepperdine’s brow. “Oh, yes, indeed. You do have a fever.” He turned to the steward. “Put your hand on his forehead, Johnson. What do you think?”
Johnson got to his feet to comply, feeling just above Pepperdine’s eyes. After checking the lieutenant, he sat down again. “Oh, yeah. That’s a fever all right.”
The doctor nodded his agreement, and stepped back. “How’s your breathing?”
“Just my nose is stuffed up,” Pepperdine said.
“Turn around,” Markham said. He placed an ear on Pepperdine’s back. “Now breathe deep…again…again.”
“I can take good breaths through my mouth.”
“Yes, it seems your lungs are clear, but you’ve caught one hell of a head cold.” He gestured to the hospital steward. “Get a couple of doses of blue mass pills.”
“We’re out,” the soldier replied. “How about Epsom salts?”
“I don’t need a laxative,” Pepperdine said. “In fact, my bowels have been somewhat loose since we went into the field.”
“A good purging never hurt anyone,” Markham scolded.
“We ain’t got a lot,” the steward reminded the doctor.
“How’s the quinine?”
“Quinine and whiskey should fix him up.”
The doctor was in accord with his steward. “Let’s dose him good and turn him loose then.”
After the medicine, Pepperdine left the hospital feeling a little dizzy. The whiskey on an empty stomach made him lightheaded and he felt the visit to the surgeon had been a waste of time. As he walked across the parade ground, he noted the post sutler was open so he detoured for a trip into the store.
The sutler, a civilian, was sweeping out his establishment when Pepperdine entered. “You’re the young officer from them brunettes, ain’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I got ever’thing you need, Lieutenant,” the man said, abandoning his broom and going behind the counter. “All sorts of canned delicacies from back east…sardines, fruit, meat, even oysters…got likker, beer, wine… got little odds ‘n ends to comfort a soljer in the field…got patent medicine to cure anything. I mentioned that because it sounds to me like you got a cold.”
“I do.”
“You ain’t been over to our quack, have you?”
“You mean the surgeon? Yes, I’ve only just left his hospital.”
The sutler shook his head in dismay. “There ain’t nary a solitary reason to see him when I got the latest cold remedy right here.” He reached over the counter and produced a bottle adorned with a fancy label. “This here is Doctor Lester’s Vegetable Consumption Medicine. Guaranteed to cure all sorts of illnesses connected with a man’s ability to breathe. Here, see for yourself.”
Pepperdine read the label that promised the buyer instant and permanent relief from a myriad of respiratory illnesses. “I’ll take a bottle,” he said. “Maybe some sardines too. And a can of those oysters.”
“From New England, are you?” the sutler said.
“Yes, and I miss my seafood.”
“Happy to fix you up. How about some whiskey or beer? I have some 10-gallon kegs them soljers o’ yours would light up at the sight of.”
Pepperdine thought a moment. “Can you take three of the beer kegs out to our bivouac?”
“Sure thing. I’ll take care of it personal, Lieutenant.”
Pepperdine suddenly remembered his headgear problem. “You don’t happen to have any broad-brimmed hats, do you?”
“Sorry. I got some on order, but they ain’t arrived as of yet.”
“I suppose I’ll have to get by with this forage cap for the entire patrol,” Pepperdine surmised. “Add up my bill, please, and see that the beer gets out to us before evening.”
“I’ll do it, Lieutenant,” the man said. He took a pencil, wetted it with a lick of his tongue, then laboriously began adding up the charges.
Pepperdine, swaying at the counter, was beginning to feel even more feverish and weak.
~*~
“Brad! Wake up!”
Pepperdine opened his eyes and looked out the opening of the tent. Jim Rivers squatted there, holding two large bottles of whiskey.
“What do you want?” Pepperdine asked. He felt bad; much worse than before.
“C’mon out, Brad, we’re gonna cure that there cold of yours.”
“No thank you.”
“Come on out, Mr. Pepperdine!” Delaney’s voice was loud and clear.
Pepperdine scrambled out of the tent. Delaney had been the one who insisted he retire despite the fact it was only late morning. Now, as the lieutenant shakily got to his feet, he could see it was only a little past noon.
Rivers whistled. “Brad, you look like you been drug down a dry creek bed.”
“It’s evident that you’ve become quite ill, Mr. Pepperdine,” Delaney said, “and obviously not improving.”
“I figgered that damned army sawbones wouldn’t do you no good,” Rivers commented.
“He gave me some quinine,” Pepperdine said. “And I bought this at the sutler’s store.” He showed them a bottle of Doctor Lester’s Medicine.
Jim Rivers took the remedy and uncorked it. He sniffed the contents, then took a deep swallow. “Say! This ain’t bad. Bring it along too.”
“Where are we going?” Pepperdine asked as he stumbled after Rivers and Delaney.
“We built a sweat lodge,” Rivers said.
“What’s that?” Pepperdine asked, trying to get his breath.
“It’s a cure-all the Injuns and trappers use,” Rivers said. “I spent my share of time in ’em. I recommend the treatment for what ails ya.”
“But what exactly is a sweat lodge?”
“There it is,” Rivers said, pointing proudly.
He had taken some saplings and built a round frame that stood nearly five feet high in the center. This had been covered with boughs and then caked solid with several thick layers of mud until it was air tight except for a small hole at the very top. A thin but steady stream of smoke flowed through the opening. They stood before the contraption and Rivers began taking off his clothes.
“Well! Strip down, Brad. I’m going in there with you.”
“Must I take off my clothes?”
“You heard him, Mr. Pepperdine,” Delaney said. “I want that cold out of you before morning.”
“We’ll have him weak but cured by dark prob’ly,” Rivers opined.
Moments later both naked men crawled into the interior as Delaney sealed the opening shut. Pepperdine gasped against the sudden, enveloping heat that seemed to suck the breath out of him. He swallowed hard and crawled over to the space indicated by Rivers. The lodge was outfitted with blankets for comfort and the two settled down on them. Hot stones were piled on glowing coals in a scooped area of the dirt floor. A bucket of water was within easy reach, and Rivers dipped a tin cup into it and threw the contents on the rocks. Instantly, clouds of steam rolled up filling the small space the two men occupied.
“It’s awfully hot,” Pepperdine complained.
“Not yet it ain’t, boy, not yet,” Rivers announced gleefully as he continued building up the hot vapor. “Here, suck on this whiskey, young’un, you’ll soon be drifting off to a world you never dreamed existed.”
Pepperdine forced himself to sip the liquor as the steam rolled over him. He had never been a heavy perspirer and the only moisture on his skin was that from the steam. This, plus the fever, was beginning to make him feel like he was frying inside.
Rivers took a sip of the medicine the younger man had bought at the sutler’s. “Hell, this stuff’s got as good a kick as the whiskey.”
“God! I can’t stand it!”
“Hang on, Brad boy, we’re just starting,” Rivers said. “Can you chant?”
Pepperdine looked incredulously at his friend. “What are you talking about?”
“The Injuns chant magic things to themselves in sweat lodges,” Rivers explained. “It helps their minds drift off to the spirit world.”
“Well, I certainly don’t know any magic chants,” Pepperdine asserted.
“Then how about some sayings or anything that might mean something to you?”
“How about the West Point motto? Duty, Honor, Country?”
“Sure sounds like the perfect chant for you, Brad. Take a healthy sip of that likker and let ‘er rip.”
Pepperdine drank deeply of the fiery liquid, then felt it start back up. He fought for control, managing to stifle the nausea. He closed his eyes and began repeating “Duty…Honor…Country…Duty…Honor…Country…Duty…Honor …”
When the sweat finally broke loose it eased out of his pores unrestrained. His mind whirled until a frightening dizziness alarmed him. He blinked hard and shook his head trying to regain his previous clarity.
“Don’t fight it, Brad,” Rivers said gently. “I’m right here, ol’ feller. I ain’t gonna let nothing happen. Take another swig of that likker and start chanting again.”
Pepperdine did as he was told. He felt better now and once again settled into the routine. His mental faculties sensed some dizziness just as before, but that passed and soon he was in a fog that was denser than that of the ever-growing steam. Pepperdine had gone far back into himself, farther than he had ever imagined he could. And he was unaware of it, but his chanting had not ceased as he floated through this strange world.
“Duty … Honor … Country … Duty … Honor … Country … Duty … Honor Honor … Country … DutyHonorCountryDutyHonorCountry…”
The sweat lodge no longer existed for him. Instead he was in the midst of a large cloud, its immensity so extreme that he feared to attempt to gauge it. The thick mist swirled and ebbed around him causing an eerie, white blindness as if he had been staring at sparkling snow. A figure of a man emerged in the distance and appeared to be walking toward him. He drew closer, closer until the facial features were plain.
It was his father.
In his present state of mind, Pepperdine was not a bit surprised to see him. The old man sat down, pulling out a pipe and lighting it as he gazed at his son. “Hello, Bradwell.”
“Hello, Father.”
“Well! And how is everything going for you today?”
“I’m afraid I’ve caught a cold, Father.”
“Mmm, I see. I suppose that’s what comes from galloping around on a prairie, doesn’t it?”
“We have a mission to perform. Quite a serious one too.”
The elder Pepperdine nodded as he smoked his pipe. “I suppose,” he conceded. “Is there any particular reason that you’re stark naked.”
“I’m sorry, Father, but Jim Rivers made me undress.”
“So! Some uneducated, uncivilized oaf tells you to strip to the buff and you cheerfully do so?”
“Jim is curing my cold, Father.”
“A cold doesn’t seem too bad in light of the fact that you’re facing death, mutilation and even torture if you continue this dangerous chase after those Red Indians. Don’t you remember that happened to that unfortunate farm family?”
“Yes, Father, I remember.”
“Of course your Uncle Robert purposely sent you out here on the frontier as well as to a regiment of colored soldiers. Do you remember why?”
“Yes, father. Since Uncle Robert is adjutant general of the army, he didn’t want to give any hints of nepotism or favoritism in my first duty assignment.”
“Exactly. After you’ve proven yourself, he’ll be able to have you transferred back east to a more favorable garrison to carry on your career. There will be no criticism because of the arduous posting you endured beforehand. The discomforts and dangers of fighting Indians will take care of that problem.”
“Yes it will,” Pepperdine agreed.
His father stood up. “I’m off now. I have things to do. Goodbye, son”
“Goodbye, Father.”
Pepperdine watched as the old man moved off to be swallowed up by the swirling, clinging clouds of fog. It was still warm, terribly warm. But suddenly the warmth was swept away by icy stabs of intense cold. It seemed that he was suddenly caught in a frigid blast of wind.
“Are you awake, Brad?”
He was sitting in the shallow creek outside the sweat lodge as Jim Rivers and Sergeant Wheatfall poured buckets of cold water over him.
“Sweet Lord!” exclaimed Pepperdine. “I’m freezing to death.”
The two men immediately pulled him from the water and carried him to the creek’s bank. As he stood there they rubbed him down so vigorously with blankets that his skin turned red.
“You’re dried off, Lieutenant,” Wheatfall said. “You’d best get into your duds quick.”
“Your pores was opened up wide in the lodge,” Rivers said. “So we flung you in the crick to seal your skin back up.”
As Pepperdine dressed, he appreciated the warmth his uniform afforded him. “What time is it?”
“Late evening, Brad, the sun’s going down.”
“How do you feel, Lieutenant?” Wheatfall inquired
Pepperdine straightened up and took a deep breath. “I feel light and airy, but a little weak.”
“Them hours of sweating drained the poison outta you,” Rivers said. “It’s only natural for you to feel wrung out. But you’ll get over that quick, believe me.”
“My God!” Pepperdine exclaimed. “I was talking to my father in there.”
“You was in a dream-trance, Lieutenant,” Wheatfall said. “I had it happen to me too.”
“You drunk dang near a whole bottle o’ whiskey while you was there a-sweating and a-chanting,” Rivers said. “Did you see anything in the future?”
Pepperdine shook his head. I saw both the present and the past. My father came to visit me, then discussed a conversation we’d had awhile back.”
“That’s pretty normal,” Rivers told him. “Sometimes the Injuns get messages from spirits who give them guidance about things to come.”
“Nothing like that happened to me.”
“Well, we’ll get you back to your tent. A good night’s sleep’ll bring your strength back.”
“I’m hungry,” Pepperdine said.
“It’d be best if’n you waited ’til morning to eat,” Rivers advised him. “A short fast’ll keep you cleaned out longer.”
The three men headed back to the bivouac. Pepperdine walked unsteadily at first, but by the time they reached the camp he was feeling stronger. Delaney was seated on a blanket at the officers’ fire, sipping a cup of coffee. He raised it in a toast. “Looks like you survived the sweat lodge, Mr. Pepperdine.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
“Think you can ride tomorrow?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s good. The department commander has answered our wire. He wants us to continue the pursuit of Running Horse. So it seems your adventures in the Indian Wars aren’t over yet.”
“Duty, Honor, Country, Sir,” Pepperdine said saluting.
“Beg pardon?” Delaney asked.
Pepperdine, ignoring Delaney’s puzzled look went directly to his tent. After crawling inside, he settled down on the blankets and almost instantly slipped into a deep, dreamless, natural sleep; the most refreshing rest a tired man can experience.