Chapter 10

As I left the house and stormed across the street, all but President Grover Cleveland arrived. Riding out of town wasn’t possible—not with such chaos, both around me and in my mind.

I answered a few questions thrown my way. “I’m not in charge here,” I muttered. If Marshal Stone was dead, who was in charge?

I was no leader.

His death was a spear through my heart. He’d done his best to fight for me the past year against Jacob. A mutual respect, then a friendship had grown, especially since Marshal Raymond Hill deputized me as a U.S. Deputy Marshal.

Where was Scott? I checked for his body across the way and couldn’t find him. Lots of blood on the rough-planked floor though. Was it Scott’s?

I couldn’t imagine a worse moment—checking for my best friend’s corpse.

The crossroads at the edge of town was lit at the corners by four kerosene lamps. Cavalrymen walked toward the center, then left, as if getting orders and rushing to carry them out. I looked into the sky, viewed vague points of light. I rubbed my face. When would I wake from the nightmare? I started for the middle of the street.

I slowed as I approached. I stopped in my tracks, stunned.

U.S. Marshal Raymond Hill and his deputy Running Deer had ridden into town. They argued with Captain Smith.

I pushed through a small knot of men and nearly grabbed Marshal Hill’s collar with both hands. He looked at me as I felt the words explode from my throat. “All we’ve been through,” I said, “Deadwood and the Badlands and the Black Hills, and you chose now to show up? Just after I needed you most?”

His brow furrowed. “Been tracking Jacob,” he said.

“Pretty poor job of it, I’d say.” I let go and stepped back.

He said nothing. Was it hurt that filled his eyes?

Marshal Hill and his intolerably bushy mustache stood off to my right, while Captain Smith, directly in front of me, rubbed his tiny mustache with a finger. I was a good half foot taller than the stocky marshal, only a few inches above the thin officer. Behind him, Running Deer was nearly my height.

I didn’t need these men. I felt Anna slowly pulling away from me across the prairie. “Find Scott. Or somebody. Have them care for the horses.”

Running Deer looked into my eyes for a moment, and an eternity passed between us—when he found me under the hateful presence of Devil’s Tower, burying my parents, the visit to an Indian agent, good-bye at the edge of Sioux City, and then reunited at Devil’s Tower during the Ghost Dance. His gaze lowered to the bear claws he’d given me so long ago. He took a step backward, and like a ghost disappeared into the night.

My heart surged until Captain Smith grabbed my shoulder.

“You can’t just ride off. We must plan. We’ll need men. Supplies.” Even in the darkness, Captain Smith’s small eyes shone. “You’re to come with me to Washington D.C. to testify before Congress.”

“Are you serious?” I turned all my anger and fear onto him. “And Jacob too, I heard.”

“I can arrest you.”

“Arrest Jacob! What kind of justice is this?”

“Philip,” Marshal Hill snapped. “He’s got a point. A posse don’t up and ride the same night. Not if they want to be on the trail for more’n a week.”

I hated everything about this. My single-minded drive to find Anna and the girls didn’t seem to matter to these men.

If I wanted Anna back, I must be calm. But a visit to Washington was nonsense. No need to think about anything other than Anna. I took a deep breath, took off my hat, and said a prayer. Best get God’s attention. I calmed some.

God. Help us.

I turned to see Doc Wilson step up. He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. “Cavalry surgeon’s right, Philip,” he said over the thump of soldiers running by. “Mr. Johnston’s leg is going to be infected, sure as you’re standing there.” He tucked the handkerchief into his chest pocket. “Leg’s gotta go.”

“Thanks, Doc,” I said in a grumble. “Sure you did all you could do.”

“Mr. Johnston’s in good hands, Philip.”

“I know.”

“Then give him to God and us.”

“Sure thing.” I tried to put him out of my mind, but first said another little prayer for his healing.

He looked at the ground and shuffled his feet.

I tried to stay patient. “Doc. I don’t have time. Tell me.”

“Leroy probably won’t make the night. They shot him up pretty bad. He’s lost a lot of blood. The deputy in the storehouse across the way died right away.” He pulled the handkerchief out and wiped his forehead again. “Went by Marshal Stone’s office. Reminded me of Rachel. Blood everywhere. Stone’s dead. Jeb used a knife on him.”

My fingers wrapped around the handle of my revolver as I looked toward the marshal’s office, as if I could see through the buildings.

Revenge, God. Grant me revenge. I closed my eyes.

“Remember,” Marshal Hill said in a quiet voice. “Revenge isn’t justice.”

Did they always have to read my mind? “All right. I’ll ride with the men.” Until I grew weary of the company. Then I was off.

Captain Smith straightened his collar. “Marshal Hill’s on the trail, Philip. You’re coming to the District. With me.”

“If you say that one more time, I will declare war on the United States.” I held myself back from shoving him. “Get some perspective. I’m going after Anna.”

“Think carefully,” Marshal Hill said. “If you ignore the United States Senate, the price might be high. Very high.”

I glanced at Captain Smith, throwing him a questioning look.

“The hearing is in two weeks.” He rubbed his jaw. “Jail time, Philip, if you’re not there. They’d make an example of you, a dime novel hero. Power over the popular.”

Marshal Hill stepped closer to Captain Smith as if I weren’t there. In a low voice he asked, “Anything you can do? Postpone?” I barely heard his next words. “I really could use him.”

Captain Smith looked over Marshal Hill’s shoulder at me as if contemplating whether I was worth the trouble.

Finally Captain Smith stepped back and lowered his shoulders. “I’ve wronged him enough. I owe him at least this. I may lose my career, but go ahead. I’ll postpone the hearing for a while. There are a few favors I can call in.”

“Wait,” I said, pushing my way past Marshal Hill to look into Captain Smith’s eyes. “It’s me who’s leaving. My responsibility. No need for you to land in trouble over this.” Why did everything have to be so complicated?

He lifted his chin and sniffed. “Surely you’ve felt it, Philip, or at least thought it. Why was I living so close to you without revealing myself? Well, if I waited it was for all the wrong reasons. I’ll make my decisions by proceeding as I see fit.”

I started to speak when he held up a hand. “Philip. As my conscience dictates, let me act.”

I imagined a long train of soldiers slowly snaking along Jacob’s trail. “And your men?”

“Sending U.S. Cavalry across the country in search of missing girls isn’t my mission.” He straightened and shook his head. “Perhaps we’d be better for it if duties included such rescues.” He gave a short bow and said in a clipped voice, “I leave you and Marshal Hill to it. I best know nothing about it.” But the look in his eye spoke of how badly he wanted to ride.

“Thanks. For all you do.”

“When this is over, find me stationed here in Mitchell or find the commanding officer at Fort Randall.”

He walked away, tugging a piece of my heart with him. I didn’t want to leave it like this. Especially with his career on the line. But there was nothing for it. I lowered my voice as he barked orders. “We’ll all make heavy sacrifices before this is over.”

“None of this is your fault.” Marshal Hill wrapped his dark duster close around him.

I gave him a nod. “Time to put evil in the grave.” Raven whinnied as I started for her. “I’ll find a grocer for provisions.” It was settling in that their start was now too far ahead, and we might be in for a long ride.

“I’ve money.” He tightened his hat and mounted the Morgan next to Raven. “My orders have been to follow Jacob Wilkes, like I said. Tracked him here.”

“You were a bit late,” I said as I settled into the saddle.

He lifted his aging body and gave the house a grim look. With a pull on the reins, he tugged his horse’s head around. “I’ll find Running Deer and then send a message to my superiors. Maybe they can help Captain Smith hold off Washington. But he’s right. I’d rather face Jacob’s new gang than the mess in the Capitol.”

“One enemy at a time.” Raven sensed I was ready to go, and she turned.

Marshal Hill’s attention was focused on a fight in the crossroads, the raised voices filling the square.

I moved Raven closer to see.

Captain Smith was saying, “If you feel that strongly about it, go. But send me reports. If I don’t receive a telegram once every three days with an update, I will report your desertion. You understand? Both of you?”

An officer with a ruddy complexion visible even in the soft light stood immediately in front of Captain Smith. The red-faced officer turned toward me.

Corporal Jackson. At Fort Randall when I’d sold Tucker to Captain Smith, the corporal had tried to put me in my place. He’d been a two-stripe officer when we had a run-in, and his words rung in my head—Horses are like women. Have to show ‘em who’s boss. He’d gone after my horse with a stick, and Tucker had chased him away.

He wore three stripes now and a diamond, a first sergeant. Impressive promotions over the winter.

As he approached, the pock marks on his face grew pronounced. I gripped the reins tighter.

He stood at attention before Raven and offered me a salute. “Permission to join the expedition, sir.”

What? I bit my tongue not to say it aloud.

I slid from the saddle and stood in front of him. “Last time we met, you weren’t keen on me being at the fort.”

“I’d like to apologize.” His tone seemed sincere. “Reckon I can be a help.” He jutted out his chin but kept his eyes down.

I looked over his head toward Captain Smith, who’d gone back to giving out orders for positioning the men around town. “All right, Sergeant. I’m in a hurry. You have one minute to convince me.”

He brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen off his brow and into his eyes, and he licked his lips. “Been thinking on things,” he said. He looked at the dirt below his boots, and he rubbed his hands together. “Lots of things.”

“You’ve been thinking about things,” I snapped, grabbing Raven’s reins in my left hand, preparing to mount.

“Wait. Please.”

His tone was so impassioned I was drawn back. The pleading in his eyes gave me pause. “Speak your piece.”

“Mr. Anderson, I feel . . . First, I gotta say I’m sorry ‘bout the way I treated you. You were in the right, and I was in the wrong.” His shoulders lowered. “Raven,” he said to my Arabian. “I’m sorry to you too. For treating your master wrong.”

Did this man just apologize to my horse? There was no doubt, however, the distress he was under. Despite the cool night, sweat poured down his temples. Momentarily setting aside my own despair, I gave him my full attention.

“I wanted to kill you.” He sniffed. “Kill you dead. But there comes a time in every man’s life when he’s faced with exactly who he is, and what . . . I mean, whether he wants to be remembered and mourned when he’s passed. And I got to figuring what people would say if you died and what they’d be thinking if I died. Mighty sad for your passing, mighty relieved with mine. And if I was mad before, that made me the maddest of all.”

He held up the back of his hand and studied the rough skin. “I was standing on two sides of a window lookin’ at myself. The man to the right was in sharp clothes, a clean uniform, you see. An eagle eye, a clean gun, and a quick heart to help. On the left, yeah, you can imagine. Me. Scruffy uniform. Nothing but trouble to alls who knew him. I made a fist—the real scruffy me—and crashed it through that glass. None of this is for real, now, but just in my head. And I crawled through the window and found that I could just . . . become him. I felt if I just tried a might harder every day and do what the Good Book told me, I’d be like the fellow in the window. So I crawled through the frame.”

His brow furled. “I’ve been working on my speaking lately, to sound smarter. But I ain’t got it right yet.”

Was he putting me on? But he was so passionate.

“The men watched you ridin’ away—doggone, if you weren’t the topic of every meal. And I wanted them to talk about me. But you see, people can talk good or bad about you. Getting them to talk bad is easy. But people talking good about you is hard. You’ve got to earn it. I decided to earn it, like you. By being that man in the window.”

He shook his head. “I know my minute’s up, but lemme tell you one last thing. I made new friends. Practiced with my colt. Worked my Winchester. I rode twice as much as anyone else all winter. Why? ‘Cause just now I realized something when I looked at you. I don’t care if the men respect me the way they do you. I’m thinking that it was the work that made me a better man—not some fight or some fancy riding or shooting. And now I don’t care a lick for what they think of me. The work’s what I’m in for, and if you can use me, then here I am. My gun’s yours.”

I opened my mouth but no words came out.

From a distance, Captain Smith paused long enough to nod at me. So Jackson was sincere. “And you’re willing to take the consequences?” I pointed to the center of the lane.

Jackson looked back at the cavalry, some scurrying away, others pausing near their commander. “Aye. I’d follow you, Mr. Anderson. Anywhere.”

A burden, a tangible weight, settled on my shoulders. The thought of leading men made my stomach churn. In his eye was a look of unwavering devotion, and I wanted to hate him for it. I wasn’t the one who deserved his admiration. God, surely, and a few great men. But not me.

“I don’t like this. But you can come.”

“You won’t regret it.” Jackson motioned toward a man behind him. As the black man stepped close he said, “Matt, we can go.”

How did a man with colored skin get into the cavalry regulars? There was a contingent of buffalo soldiers—freed slaves and other black men formed a regiment—but they weren’t allowed to ride side-by-side with the whites. Many believed morale in the cavalry would suffer. Others thought black men simply couldn’t, or wouldn’t, fight.

As I listened to Jackson explain how Matt was a protégé and a test case riding with the regulars, I stopped him. “Jackson, was this your idea? Having a black man in a white regiment?”

Jackson’s reply was sharp. “Yessir. Which makes him my responsibility.”

Maybe there was more to Jackson than met the eye.

Well, with all the opinions about blacks in the newspapers, pamphlets, and talk on street corners and in parlors, I was now forced to come to a decision myself.

Opinions. Mine mattered most. The only part of all this that gave me pause was what Jackson had said. Responsibility. Taking care of myself was what I was best at. Taking care of others was a heavy weight.

But I was beginning to see we needed men. And a black man in a white regiment would probably be worth twice his weight. He would have to be good. “You can ride with us.”

Running Deer stepped from a nearby shadow, and I did a double take. How did he sneak up on us like that? He turned and motioned backward.

At the edge of the light further down the street, I spotted bright, red hair bouncing above the heads of cavalrymen. A small part of my heart felt relief, but the feeling was quickly swallowed by fear.

Scott’s white face shone pale, and his eyes searched among the men. His gaze finally settled on me.

He rushed past a group of soldiers and grabbed the front edges of my collar in his fists. “They got her, Philip.” His voice was strangled. “Got her. Got Anna. Got Rachel. Got Beth.”

I tried to hold firm, but he shook me. “I know, buddy. We’re going to go get them.”

He didn’t let go. “We’ve got to go get them.”

“We’re going.”

Dirt stained his face, tracks from sweat lining his smooth cheeks. “Escaped out the back.” He pointed to the stone building. “After they got the girls, I started after them alone. The deputy was dead. But I decided to get Marshal Stone and went to the jail to get him, but he’s dead. Came back here but everyone here was dead. Then I remembered Anna’s horse Alita and remembered how Jacob had stolen her once, and I thought he might be there to steal her, and I started for the mill where Anna had her pastured.”

I reached up to loosen his grip, but his hands wouldn’t budge.

“The other horses were dead. Got Alita. Got Becky. Got Anna. Got Mrs. Johnson—”

“Scott.” He was nearing hysterics. “Scott, keep your head. We’re going—”

A roar erupted from behind, and two massive arms wrapped around Scott then flung him to the ground.

Ryan stood over Scott and roared again. The words barely intelligible, he said, “Don’t touch Philip.”

I tried to grasp his arm, but even my large hands couldn’t surround his bulging muscle. “Hold back, Ryan. He wasn’t trying to hurt me.”

“Save Rachel!” His voice was pitiful. He turned his bulk toward me, towered over my head by nearly a foot. “Find Rachel!”

I reached down and grabbed Scott’s arm as he held my wrist. “We’ll find them.” I pulled Scott to his feet. “We’ll find them.”

Scott straightened his shirt, pulling on the cuffs. “Yeah. We’ll find them. Let’s go.”

“Provisions, first,” Marshal Hill said from behind. “I just talked to Captain Smith. He says he can keep your horses at the fort.”

“Will you speak with him? There’s a young boy and his friends across the river who owe me. They would watch the horses.” Safer with Jake than at the fort.

Marshal Hill left to finish the task.

“Scott, you think I can count on you to find the storekeep?”

He wiped his nose with a sleeve. “You can, Philip.” He looked up at Ryan then back at me. “I’m sorry.”

“We’re all on edge,” I said, keeping my voice calm despite the volcano inside. “There’s bound to be tension. Be patient with each other, and we’ll get the girls.”

But as I mounted Raven and looked back at the small cluster of men, I tried to swallow my rising doubts.

I counted up the posse in my head.

An aging Marshal Hill. Could he endure the rigors of the trail?

Running Deer, my Sioux companion. He was still in prime physical condition, sharp as an eagle, sly and skilled as a fox, and a fierce fighter. But our reliance on a single man might put too much strain on him. Besides, he didn’t seem as if he worked well in a group.

Ryan was strong, but could I trust the big man?

Could Scott fight? I loved him like a brother, and I was afraid to put him in danger.

What of Jackson? And Matt? The odd pair had surprised me. At least I knew they were trained to fight. But what if we had to ride for more than a day? A week? Perhaps longer? Their careers would be in jeopardy.

The posse stood like a knot in a sea of activity, talking, and I searched for the strength to lead them. Leadership comes from the heart. And my heart ached.

Would this ragtag bunch be enough to find Anna?

Captain Smith in the distance offered a vague salute and turned his back. Would his loyalty to my cause be stretched too thin? And what of the Senate? Despite my rebellion, I knew the implications of ignoring their beckoning. Jail, at best. But my compass pointed only toward Anna.

Would Anna be harmed? What would happen if Jacob decided the girls weren’t necessary?

And Mr. Wilkes and Jacob—my family’s history coming back to haunt an orphaned son.

So many questions, and as the men scattered and I reined Raven back toward Anna’s house for one more search, I thought of one last pressing matter.

What of the map?

Some secrets won’t remain hidden forever.