41
“Miss Kate,” a man who farmed a section of land at the far end of the valley addressed her. “Meanin’ no disrespect, but we just can’t let your man and your sons carry the whole burden of fightin’ this crazy man, Layfield. Jamie Ian MacCallister and you and them few who come with you to this spot, why, y’all pioneered this land. You carved a garden spot out of the wilderness. Y’all made it easy for the rest of us. I been elected spokesman to tell you this, ma’am. Now, this is what we plan on doin’ ...”
* * *
Rosanna and Andrew and troupe had arrived in the boom town of Denver and were staying at the finest hotel in the city. They were all anxious to get the shows over with and head for MacCallister’s Valley. It had been years since they’d seen their parents. They had lots to talk about and new babies to see and lots of mama’s good homecooked meals to eat. Kate had written them both, and Ellen Kathleen had written James. Everybody was looking forward to a big eatin’ on the grounds and to some fine entertainment from world renowned professionals.
And Jamie and sons and Little Ben Pardee—among others that Jamie was not yet aware of—aimed to see that everybody got their wishes . . . everybody, that is, except for Colonel Aaron Layfield.
* * *
“There’s a whole passel of folks paralleling us, Pa,” Morgan said, after being gone all of one morning. “But I couldn’t get close enough to see just who they might be. They’re stayin’ to the flats as much as possible.”
“How many folks?”
“ ’Bout fifty, I think.”
Jamie thought about that. “The army?”
“No. And I’m sure of that. And I’m also sure they’re not outlaws, either.”
“How can you be sure of that?”
“I went into one of their camp sites. It was all cleaned and tidied up. Stone fire rings was careful laid and the fires careful put out. They even dug latrines, Pa. And filled them in when they was done.”
“You’re right. That was no outlaw camp.”
“What do we do, Pa?”
“Nothing. Layfield’s camp is a day and a half away, and I want this issue settled once and for all. I don’t know what those other men are doing out here, but they’re staying a distance away and leaving us alone. We’ll do the same for them. Let’s go.”
* * *
“Jamie MacCallister and a few others are coming, Colonel,” Layfield was informed.
“Good, good!” Aaron Layfield beamed, rubbing his hands together. “Have the men get into position.”
“They’re coming under a white flag, sir.”
Layfield thought about that, his smile fading. “Very well. I shall honor a white flag of truce. Let them enter the camp.”
Layfield carefully dressed in his best uniform and laid out his plumed hat. He pulled on his freshly blacked boots and buckled on his sword. He brushed his hair and combed his beard and stepped out of his tent. He walked to the edge of the camp and waited for Jamie Ian MacCallister.
At last! Layfield thought. I’ve got him at last. And he is coming to me.
Jamie and sons and Ben Pardee rode to the edge of the camp, Jamie in the lead. He stopped about fifty feet from Layfield.
“Don’t he look nice, now?” Little Ben muttered.
“Elegant,” Morgan returned the whisper.
“Colonel Layfield,” Jamie said.
“Colonel MacCallister,” Layfield returned the military title.
“I’ve come to talk peace,” Jamie said. “The war is over.”
“Not our war, sir. Not until one of us is dead and in the grave will it be over.”
“Why?” Jamie asked. “Why does it have to be that way?”
“Because we are enemies.”
“Colonel, the war is over and done with. Your side won. Lee surrendered. I have no reason to fight you and you have no reason to fight me.”
“Are you forgetting that you destroyed my town, Colonel MacCallister?”
“Are you forgetting that you destroyed several dozen towns in the South, Colonel Layfield?”
“That was different,” Layfield said quickly. “Oh, my, yes, sir. Much different.”
Jamie blinked at that. He stared at the man. “Different, sir? How? Why?”
Layfield smiled, then laughed; a sound without humor. “You were the enemy, sir. That’s why. And because you were the enemy, you are the enemy. That’s in the Bible.”
Jamie doubted that most sincerely; but he was no Bible scholar and let it pass. He also felt that attempting to argue the Bible with a man like Layfield would only add fuel to the fire. He just did not know what tact to take.
“That was quite a fight you put up in that old town, Colonel,” Layfield said. “Yes, indeed. Quite a fight. But there was something missing there.”
“Oh? What?”
“The Rebel flag, of course.”
Jamie sighed. “Sir, the war is over. It’s been over almost five years. Hostilities have ceased.”
“Not for me, sir. Never for me or for those who follow me. You burned my town.”
Jamie sighed. This was getting nowhere. “Would you like for me to apologize, sir?”
Layfield slowly shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous, sir! That was war. One never apologizes for acts committed during war.”
The man is truly crazy, Jamie thought. His cinch strap is too tight. Where the hell do I go from here?
“I think we have said all there is to say to each other, Colonel MacCallister. You should withdraw now and prepare for battle.”
“Gird my loins?” Jamie asked drily.
“Quite, sir.”
“Nuttier than a pe-can pie,” Falcon muttered. “Man needs to be put in an insane asylum.”
“What’s that?” Layfield shouted, his face turning crimson. “What did you say, sir?”
“I said you’re nuts,” Falcon told the man. “You’re holdin’ the reins too tight.”
“You can’t speak to me in such a manner!”
“I just did,” Falcon said. “You . . . nitwit!”
“Prepare for battle, sir!” Layfield shouted, waving his arms. Spittle oozed from one corner of his mouth. He jumped up and down and began shouting orders to his men.
“Thanks a lot, brother,” Morgan said, twisting in the saddle to look at Falcon. “Your mouth has done it again.”
“My God!” Ben Pardee said, looking at the ridges all around the little valley.
“Cease and desist, Layfield!” came the shout from above the two groups of men.
Jamie looked up. Troops of the U.S. Army cavalry lined one side. He cut his eyes to the other side, where about fifty men from his valley stood, all armed with rifles.
“You are under arrest, Colonel Layfield!” the shout came from the side of the cavalrymen. “I am Major Paul Silver, United States Army. Order your men to lay down their weapons and do so immediately.”
“Never!” Layfield shouted, pulling his sword. “I have God on my side. I shall never surrender. Death to all traitors!”
“Get ready to leave the saddle,” Jamie said. “Get behind those rocks yonder and keep your heads down. It’s about to get real wild here.”
“Fire, men!” Layfield shouted. “Fire!”
“Now!” Jamie yelled, and threw himself from the saddle.
Layfield’s men opened up, and the canyon thundered with gunfire as the men lining both sides returned fire.
It was a slaughter. But a carnage that Layfield miraculously survived. When the firing stopped, Layfield was still standing, turning around and around, waving his sword and shouting orders. But his orders fell on dead ears.
Jamie stood up and walked to the man, grabbing his arm and taking the sword from him. Morgan tied the man’s hands behind him and sat him on the ground.
“I am a colonel!” Layfield shouted. “I cannot be treated in such a manner.”
“Hush up,” Morgan told him. “You’re going to have a nice long rest, Layfield. You need it.”
“Strike this infidel dead, Lord!” Layfield screamed. “Fling a lightning bolt from the heavens with Your mighty hand and destroy this heathen!” He tried to bite Morgan, and Morgan jerked his hand back just in time.
“This guy is nuttier than a tree full of squirrels, Colonel,” Ben Pardee said, just as the men from the valley and the cavalrymen rode up.
“Colonel MacCallister,” the officer in charge said, dismounting. “I am Major Silver.” He offered his hand and Jamie took it. “We tried to get here in time to arrest these men peacefully. But we were delayed.”
“You got here just in time, Major.” He looked at the men from his valley. “What can I say, men?”
“You don’t have to say anything, Mister MacCallister,” Minister Powell said. “We were only too glad to help.”
“I’ll have President Lincoln court-martial you for high treason against the United States government and hang you all!” Layfield shouted.
“Somebody needs to tell him that Lincoln is dead,” Jamie Ian remarked.
“More importantly,” Major Silver said, “somebody needs to tell him that the war is over and the nation is healing.”
“Charge!” Layfield screamed. “Slay the infidels. Kill the slavers. Blow, bugler, blow!”
“The bastard is crazy!” a sergeant said, after jumping to one side to avoid being bitten on the leg by Layfield.
Layfield had toppled over to one side and was thrashing about on the rocky ground, kicking his legs. He began singing about John Brown’s body.
Jamie looked at Layfield. “What will you do with him, Major Silver?”
“I’m sure he’ll be confined to a lunatic asylum. If he doesn’t have a heart attack before we get him there. Excuse me for a moment, sir. Sergeant Bowren! Get the surgeon up here and dose this man with laudanum. Keep him quieted down for his own safety.”
“Yes, sir.”
Reverend Powell touched Jamie on the arm. “Let’s go home, sir. We have much to do before the performers arrive.”
Jamie smiled at the smaller man. The reverend was carrying a rifle, and Jamie had no doubt but that he had used it. “Let’s do that, Charles.” He leaned down and whispered, “But I still think the Indian way makes more sense.”
The reverend looked stunned for a moment; then he threw back his head and roared with laughter. “I’ll convert you yet, Jamie Ian MacCallister! You just wait and see.”