It was still dark when Pepperdine awoke. He felt completely rested and strangely energetic. He lay quietly for some moments listening to the soft murmurings of conversation coming from the guard fire not too far away. Then, feeling too good to stay in his blankets, he flung them aside and slipped into his boots.
The night was warm and the weak but persistent glow of the dawning sun barely showed on the horizon, but gave promise of a blazing hot day to come. Pepperdine strode to where the off-duty relief slept. The corporal in charge stood up and saluted as the young officer approached.
“Any coffee, Corporal Jones?”
“Yes, suh, Lieutenant Pepperdine. Let me get you a cup.” The NCO poured out a generous measure of the thick liquid. “We appreciated the beer you sent over, suh. It tasted mighty refreshing after all these days of riding.”
“You’re entirely welcome,” Pepperdine said.
“How’re you feeling, Lieutenant?”
“Quite well, thank you.” Pepperdine answered. “I guess Jim Rivers cured me.”
“There’s a lot of things to learn out here,” Jones conceded. “I think ol’ Jim’s picked up about ever’thing he could from them Injuns.”
“I must admit the sweat lodge was quite an experience,” Pepperdine said. ‘Have you ever been in one, Corporal?”
“No, suh, I never been sick. But Sergeant Wheatfall knows a lot about ’em.” Jones glanced toward the sky. “Say! It’s about time for me to post my relief. I’d best be waking ’em up.”
Pepperdine was puzzled. “How can you tell what time it is?”
“The Big Dipper tells me, suh. He says it’s four o’clock,” Jones explained. “Look up at him, Lieutenant. See that bright star up above there? That’s the North Star. Well, just notice how the dipper’s on an even keel a ways under it, see? When we start out posting the night guard, that handle is sticking straight up. We know how to tell when two hours pass by how far that handle has sunk down.”
Pepperdine checked his pocket watch. “Well, it’s nearly four o’clock all right,” he said. “Yet the sun is glowing over on the horizon.”
“The prairie sky is the widest in the world, Lieutenant. But that old sun is still a ways from poking above the skyline.” He turned his attention to kicking at the sleeping figures around the fire. “Let’s go, soljers! Now look lively, the lieutenant’s here.”
The men moaned, stretched and sat up. It is any soldier’s moral duty to wake up promptly for guard posting. It was a consideration they showed for the men who awaited relief from the two hours of walking post. They would expect the same treatment from the next corporal and his men.
Within ten minutes the corporal had completed the quick, informal guard inspection. When he was satisfied his men were ready to properly assume their posts, he marched them off.
Pepperdine squatted down and helped himself to another cup of coffee. It was strangely peaceful now. But he knew that miles away the Indian enemy was camped. He wondered how this adventure would conclude. A glorious victory with Running Horse and his band brought back under guard? Or would Delaney’s command return to Fort Proviso empty-handed after weeks of fruitless pursuit? Perhaps there would be a sudden ambush and the entire company would end up lying dead on the prairie as their mutilated flesh rotted under the broiling sun.
Pepperdine involuntarily shuddered, but his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of running feet. One of the guards rushed past him to Sergeant Wheatfall’s tent. Pepperdine followed the excited man.
“What’s the matter, soldier?”
“At the horse picket, suh?” the man said. He shook Wheatfall’s tent and hollered, “Sergeant Wheatfall! Sergeant Wheatfall! Corporal Jones wants you out to the horse picket.”
Pepperdine dropped his coffee and, after a quick rush to his own tent to get his carbine, he ran out to where the horses were picketed.
“Corporal Jones!”
“Over here, suh.”
Pepperdine found Jones and the others gathered around a fallen soldier. Even in the faint light of pre-dawn it was easy to see he was badly beaten.
“Indians?” Pepperdine asked.
Wheatfall appeared and appraised the situation quickly. “Corporal Jones, turn out the company.”
“Yes, Sergeant!”
“I’ll get Captain Delaney,” Pepperdine said, spinning on his heel and once again running off toward the commander’s tent.
But Delaney was already outside when Pepperdine arrived. “What’s the problem, Mr. Pepperdine?”
“It appears we’ve been attacked, Sir,” Pepperdine said.
“Godamn it! Bugler! Bugler!” Delaney cried.
Suddenly the sound of First Call blared over the camp. Delaney cursed and called out for Wheatfall. “Sergeant Wheatfall, sound To Arms!”
Wheatfall returned to the camp and reported to his captain. “No need for To Arms, suh.”
“Mr. Pepperdine has informed me we have been attacked.”
“No, suh,” Wheatfall said. “One o’ the guards is beat up and a horse stole. I’ll take a roll call.”
“Who is the injured man?” Delaney asked.
“Private Lee, Cap’n,” Wheatfall said. “I think he’ll be fine after a while. I’ll see to that roll call now. By your leave, suh.”
Pepperdine watched the first sergeant hurry away to attend to his unexpected chore. “I don’t quite understand what’s happening, sir.”
“Relax, Mr. Pepperdine,” Delaney said. “It appears we have a deserter. He attacked a guard and took a horse. Probably his weapons as well. We’ll find out who it is a soon as Wheatfall takes a quick muster.”
“I didn’t think the first sergeant could read, sir,” Pepperdine said.
“He can check with the squad leaders and they’ll know if any of their men are missing,” Delaney explained. “And the next time you report we are under attack, you be damned sure of your facts, Mister!”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Pepperdine said.
Wheatfall was back again. “Private Fields is gone, suh, and has taken all his gear as well.”
“Very good, Sergeant. I want you and Mr. Pepperdine to mount an immediate pursuit and bring Fields back with all stolen government property.”
“Will you wait for our return before resuming the mission against the hostiles, sir?” Pepperdine asked.
“No, Mr. Pepperdine, you’ll have to catch up with us later.”
Wheatfall turned to the nearest troopers and barked quick orders for them to fetch his and Pepperdine’s horses. Then he went to this tent and began preparing his gear for their mission.
Pepperdine followed the first sergeant’s example.
~*~
The deserter Fields had walked his horse for almost a mile before continuing his flight mounted. The trail was easy enough to follow through the prairie grass as the morning dew kept the trampled blades from rising.
“I don’t recall Fields,” Pepperdine said as they plodded along the track.
“A troublemaker, suh,” Wheatfall said. “He’s been locked in the guardhouse twice for fighting and drinking Most of the troopers don’t pay him much mind. He’s got no friends.”
“He was rather a short fellow, wasn’t he?” Pepperdine asked, suddenly remembering him. “Always off to one side by himself?”
“That’s Fields, Lieutenant. Got a big moustache too. He was whipped plenty in the old days. Got lots of scars on his back.”
“What old days?” Pepperdine asked.
“Before the Jubilee,” Wheatfall said. “I mean to say before we was set free.”
“Ah, slavery,” Pepperdine said. “Maybe that’s why he’s such a bitter man. Perhaps he suffered mistreatment from a cruel master.”
“He can be bitter anywhere he wants, Lieutenant,” Wheatfall, “but not in my company.”
They reached a small, shallow river with rocky banks. Here the trail was lost. The two split up and each man ranged far down the river trying to pick up where the deserter had emerged from the water. It was Pepperdine who discovered the place. By the time he had ridden back and hailed Wheatfall, a good hour had gone by.
They pressed on as rapidly as possible. Fields wasn’t an experienced soldier. With less than a year’s service, and most of that in garrison, he could ride tolerably well, but was becoming disoriented as time passed.
“You notice something, Lieutenant?” Wheatfall asked. “Fields is wandering off to his left, see? He don’t know it, but he’s going in a wide circle.”
“Then it’s just a matter of time before we get him.”
“Right, Lieutenant. Let’s ease inside the circle and see if we can pick him up quicker.”
“Right, Sergeant.”
They cut the trail diagonally and urged their horses into an easy canter. Wheatfall’s idea proved correct. They hit the man’s trail again late in the afternoon. Without slackening speed, the two pursuers alternated sticking to the actual path with quick cross-country dashes as the circle grew smaller.
When they finally spotted him, Wheatfall loudly hailed the deserter. Even from that far a distance, Fields’ surprise was evident by the way he turned in the saddle.
“We got him, suh,” Wheatfall said confidently. “Let’s go!”
They kicked their mounts into a gallop as Fields frantically fled across the prairie. The chase lasted a scant ten minutes before the deserter knew he was riding for a lost cause. He reined up and waited for them.
Wheatfall’s face was a mask of stony anger as they approached. “Just keep them hands in plain sight, Fields.”
“I ain’t gonna do nothing,” Fields said sullenly.
“Get off that horse and step away,” Wheatfall said, dismounting.
Fields did as he was ordered.
“Me hitting you is against the regulations,” Wheatfall said, “but so is deserting. He swung a large fist straight into Fields’ face.
“Sergeant Wheatfall!” Pepperdine shouted.
Wheatfall, passive as if he were having a conversation in the sutler’s store, looked up at the young officer. “I am the first sergeant of this company.”
Pepperdine hesitated, then caught the meaning fully. “Carry on, First Sergeant.”
“By your leave, suh.” Then Wheatfall administered his own version of company punishment until Fields was near unconsciousness. He pulled the would-be deserter to his feet, shaking him until the man responded. “You just stand there.” The first sergeant went to his gear and returned with a set of handcuffs. He quickly snapped them on his prisoner, then shoved the man toward his horse. “Mount up, Fields, you’re now under arrest. If you as much as look the wrong way, I’m gonna shoot you right offa that gov’ment animal you stole, understand?”
Fields breathed hard, wiping at his bleeding face. “Uh . . . yes . . . Sergeant.” He stumbled over to his horse and laboriously pulled himself up into the saddle.
Wheatfall’s anger had not abated. “You ever to this to me or Cap’n Delaney again and I’ll whup you worse’n any massa ever did.”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
“We gave you a home, clothes, vittles and a warm place to sleep,” Wheatfall said. “How do you pay us back? By hitting one of your company mates over the head and running off with U.S. gov’ment property. You’re no damn good, Fields.”
Fields snuffed, he was feeling a little ashamed, but now that the beating was over he also displayed a feeble defiance. “I ain’t gonna get myself all cut up in little pieces for white folks. They’re the onliest people out here, besides them damn Injuns.”
“Fool! You do your fighting for the regiment—the regiment! Understand? This is our step up to a better world,” Wheatfall shouted. “Maybe our young’uns won’t have to be soljers! Maybe they can just be anything they want to be, if we prove colored folks can do a good job on their own too.”
“I don’t believe that a minute,” Fields said.
“The only thing you gotta believe is that your ass is in my personal meat grinder,” Wheatfall said. “Ride on, Fields. I’m taking you home.”
~*~
Off-duty soldiers crowded around as Pepperdine and Wheatfall returned with Fields. Several caustic comments were directed at the prisoner as he was taken to Delaney.
The captain waited as Wheatfall pulled Fields from his horse. Then he approached him. “You’re in serious trouble, Private Fields. I can drum up enough charges to lock you away for the rest of your life. There’s assault to begin with. Or perhaps attempted murder would be better. We have a good case of desertion as well as theft of valuable government property which includes a carbine and a pistol.”
“Yes, suh,” Fields said stoically. Being punished was nothing new to him and his acceptance of pain and unpleasant circumstances was well ingrained.
“I figure I have three options,” Delaney continued. “I can have you court-martialed which will result in about fifty years in the Federal penitentiary, or even a firing squad since you technically deserted in the face of the enemy.”
“Yes, suh.”
“That would make a lot of paperwork for Mr. Pepperdine, though,” Delaney said sarcastically
“Yes, suh.”
“Fields, I don’t know why you’re in the army,” Delaney said. “You weren’t forced to enlist, I know that much. But you’re here and you’re one of us whether you like it or not. Perhaps you don’t appreciate what you have here, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt by placing you on company punishment charged with an unauthorized absence. That will mean extra duty for you at hard labor for ninety days. During that time you will also play poker on paydays with the soldier you attacked, understand?”
“Suh?” Fields asked, puzzled.
“And you’ll lose. So you might as well give him all your money right after pay call.”
“Yes, suh.”
“Sergeant Wheatfall, take charge of the prisoner,” Delaney said. He offered his hand to Pepperdine. “Congratulations on accomplishing the mission.”
“Sergeant Wheatfall did most of it.”
“Perhaps,” Delaney said. “But you were wise enough to let him, weren’t you? That’s enough to congratulate any second lieutenant for.”
“Yes, Sir,” Pepperdine said, grinning. He followed his commander to the officers’ cook fire and stopped short at the sight he saw there.
Jim Rivers was seated with a brave in full war dress. The scout waved at Pepperdine. “Howdy, Brad. C’mon over and meet Crying Buffalo.”
The Indian merely grunted at the young officer.
“We’ve had our own excitement,” Delaney said, getting himself some coffee. “It seems Running Horse wants to palaver. Crying Buffalo here is his envoy.”
“Does he want to surrender, sir?” Pepperdine asked.
“Who knows?” the captain answered. “It’s hard to judge an Indian’s intentions, Mr. Pepperdine. He might have decided he simply wants to find out what in hell we’re up to. At any rate, you, Rivers and I will meet with him some ten miles from here tomorrow morning.
“Just three of us, sir?”
“Yes, Mr. Pepperdine, just three of us.”
“Well, sir, that seems rather risky.”
“Oh, it is, Mr. Pepperdine. Indeed it is.”