In the early afternoon of the following day, the wagon train reached Pawnee Fork Crossing on the Arkansas, where the original fort had been built. Continuing on two and a half miles up Pawnee Creek, they sighted the adobe buildings of Fort Larned on the south side of the creek. Jacob and Floyd debated the best location to establish camp, then decided upon a site a few hundred yards upstream from the fort where there was plenty of grass for the animals.
Lieutenant Jack Puckett rode out to inspect the newly arrived wagon train and to familiarize the travelers with the services available at the fort, which turned out to be little more than wagon and harness repair. He informed them again of the restrictions on wagon trains traveling past Fort Larned and was satisfied that they met the requirements of twenty wagons, thirty men. After the lieutenant left, Jacob talked to his people. “Those of you who need repairs best get about it right away, and maybe we can get started again day after tomorrow. I don’t see much use in wastin’ any more time than that around here. It don’t seem like there’s much they can do in the way of supplies. It may be better when we get to Fort Lyon.”
“Tanner, dammit, let’s go find us a drink of whiskey,” Jeb suddenly blurted. “I swear, it’s been a while since I’ve had a drink, and I know there’s some somewhere on an army post.”
Tanner looked up from the rifle he was in the process of cleaning. A drink would be enjoyable after the long ride from Council Grove, he thought. “All right,” he said. “I expect the best place to start lookin’ might be the stables.” He figured it was a good chance some enlisted man might be assigned stable duty as punishment, and most likely for drunkenness.
“Let’s go, then,” Jeb quickly replied. It was no more than a quarter mile back to the post, so they decided to walk. “It might be best to leave these 08-branded horses here in camp in case they come down with a case of homesickness,” he said with a chuckle.
Just as they figured, there were two soldiers mucking out the stables when they walked in the open end of the building. They both paused to lean on their pitchforks when Tanner and Jeb approached. “What in blazes did you two do to draw this kind of duty?” Jeb called out in greeting.
There was no response from either at first, as both men looked the strangers over. Then one of the soldiers, a slight man with a scraggly mustache, answered. “Too much applejack, I reckon. It don’t take much when Lieutenant Puckett is the officer of the day.”
The other soldier, a short pudgy man in contrast to his bony partner, spoke then. “If you fellers are lookin’ for horse feed or hay, this here’s for army use only.”
“Hell, we’re needin’ the same stuff that landed you in the stables this mornin’,” Jeb said. “Maybe you can tell us where a feller might find a drink of whiskey around here.”
“It’s against regulations to have strong spirits on the post,” the skinny private announced.
Jeb took a brief moment to aim an exasperated look in Tanner’s direction before turning back to the soldier. “We were both in the army. We know army regulations don’t mean a damn thing when it comes to havin’ a little drink. Just tell me who to see to get a little whiskey we can take back to camp.”
The two soldiers exchanged cautious glances before the stocky one shrugged and said, “There’s two barracks. Go to the one closest to the hospital. One end of it is a storeroom. See Sergeant Crowder, and maybe you can talk him outta some whiskey—if there’s any left, which I doubt. They smuggled some in under a wagonload of hay day before yesterday.”
“Much obliged,” Jeb said, flashing a wide grin at Tanner. “Maybe we’ll bring you back a drink.”
“Maybe you’d better not,” the slight soldier lamented. “Puckett’ll smell a man’s breath. Stable duty this time, it’ll be the guardhouse next time.”
“What can I do for you boys?” Sergeant Ben Crowder asked when Tanner and Jeb walked in the door of the storeroom.
“We’re lookin’ to buy a little whiskey,” Jeb replied, “and we were told this is the place to get it.”
“Whiskey?” Crowder responded as if amazed. “This is an army supply room. I don’t sell no whiskey here. Look around you. Does this look like a saloon to you?”
Jeb gave the sergeant a wink. “Come on, Sarge, all we’re lookin’ for is a little jar of whiskey, enough for us to have a couple of drinks apiece.”
“Who told you you could get whiskey here?”
“Feller over at the stable,” Jeb replied. Tanner walked over and propped an elbow on the counter. Jeb never needed help talking, so Tanner was content to remain an observer.
“McIntyre?” Crowder blurted. “That little weasel never could keep his mouth shut.”
“Didn’t catch his name,” Jeb replied. “But he was a charitable man who took pity on a couple of thirsty travelers. We were hopin’ you’d be the same.”
The sergeant studied the two men for a long moment before asking, “You two come in with that wagon train yesterday?” Jeb nodded. “And you come in here looking for a drink?” Again Jeb nodded. “Why the hell didn’t you just get it from that feller Leach?”
Tanner and Jeb exchanged startled expressions. Jacob Freeman had told of someone seeing what looked like a whiskey keg in Garth Leach’s wagon. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Jeb allowed. “The son of a bitch is sellin’ it. I just figured he had a powerful thirst.”
Crowder couldn’t help but chuckle. “You fellers don’t know much about the folks you’re traveling with, do you?”
“Reckon not,” Tanner answered. He didn’t bother to tell Crowder that they had only joined the train two days ago.
Not to be sidetracked from the purpose of his mission, Jeb pressed for an answer. “Well, are you gonna sell us some whiskey or not?”
“Sure,” the sergeant said, the grin still on his face. “I believe you boys do need a drink. Did you bring anything to put it in?” When Jeb shook his head, Crowder said, “How much you aimin’ to buy? I’ve got some pint jars. You want more’n that?”
“No, that’s enough,” Tanner said, answering for them.
Crowder went back into a smaller room off the main storeroom. After a few minutes, he returned with a jar of whiskey, and Jeb made the payment. Tanner was curious about the transaction between Leach and the sergeant.
“The fellow at the stables said the whiskey came in under a load of hay. Leach didn’t have a load of hay on his wagon.” He was not concerned with the legality of Leach’s dealings with the sergeant, even though he had no use for the surly eldest of the four brothers. Soldiers were going to drink if they could get it. That was just the way of things.
“Well, that’s how I usually get it. But this was brought in last night through the tunnel.” When it was obvious to the sergeant that his remark created questions, he went on to explain. “The water tunnel,” he said. “We have to get drinkin’ water from the creek. We tried to dig wells, went down forty feet tryin’ to get good water, but it tasted like sulfur. That’s why you see those water barrels beside each barracks. We have to haul it up from the creek. They dug a tunnel to the creek so we can get water if the fort’s under attack.”
Jeb screwed the lid off the jar and sniffed the liquid, bringing a quick retort from the sergeant. “Hey, don’t open that jar in here! Take it back to your camp to drink it, and don’t let nobody see you carryin’ it out of my storeroom.”
“All right, all right,” Jeb replied. “We won’t let nobody see it.” Grinning broadly, he walked out the door. Just outside, he paused on the top step to sample the spirit, unconcerned with being seen. “Damn, that stuff’s rank,” he said, smacking his lips. “Here, give her a try.”
“I reckon I’ll wait,” Tanner said. “I wouldn’t wanna get the sergeant in trouble for sellin’ it to us.”
“I reckon you’re right,” Jeb said, and slipped the jar inside his shirt. They walked back toward the train, Jeb with a not so inconspicuous bulge hanging over his belt.
All the families had taken advantage of the day’s layover at Fort Larned to make necessary repairs to wagons and harness, and were prepared to start out for Fort Lyon again the next morning. Floyd Reece brought out his fiddle, sat down by the fire, and sawed away on a couple of old-time favorites. The music soon attracted folks from other wagons, and before long a small crowd had gathered. Attracted by the mournful rasping of Floyd’s strings, a few soldiers from the fort came over to visit the train. Seeing Floyd set up with his fiddle, one of the soldiers went back to the barracks to fetch his squeeze-box accordion. In no time at all, there was a lively little gathering, keeping time by clapping hands and tapping toes.
Having finished most of the pint jar of whiskey by himself, Jeb was in a carefree sense of being, and he was in the mood to dance. As his partner he picked the seven-year-old daughter of Fred Lister to shuffle through the steps of an improvised buck dance, much to the delight of the giggling youngster. It didn’t take long before other couples took to the grassy dance floor. The dancing went on for a while before someone organized a reel, and most of the spectators joined in. Floyd and the soldier with the squeeze-box knew only three tunes they could play together, but they kept repeating them over and over.
Off to one side of the circle, Tanner Bland sat with his back against a wagon wheel, a silent spectator of the dance. He smiled as he watched Jeb Hawkins’ ungainly, high-stepping attempts to follow the music, as he changed partners—to Ida Freeman, to another of the children, then back to Lister’s daughter again. He envied his partner’s free spirit. It wasn’t all due to the whiskey he had just downed. Jeb was just naturally fun-loving, and it didn’t take much to bring that nature to the surface. Tanner’s smile faded for a moment when he remembered the last dance he had attended. It was a week before he left to join the army. It had been a bittersweet occasion, for he was there with his intended, but their wedding plans were postponed. The recollection was the first time he had thought about Ellie for a few days. He had tried to discipline his mind to avoid thoughts of her, but he could not help but wonder if she and Trenton were happy, and if she had put him out of her mind. Maybe it was a good marriage. Maybe they already had a baby on the way. That last thought brought an image to his mind that he did not want to think about, and he cursed silently, admonishing himself to put it out of his head. A movement out of the corner of his eye snagged his attention, pulling his thoughts away from Eleanor Marshall.
In the darkening shadows of the evening, she was almost unnoticeable as she stood between two of the wagons on the far side of the circle. Like a starving waif watching a noble feast, Cora Leach gazed longingly at the joyful dancers. Tanner could not help but pity her. He wondered how she had had the misfortune to be bound to a weasel like Joe Leach. I wonder how she got away from her husband to watch the dancing, he thought. He had no sooner generated the thought than the first signs of trouble appeared.
One of the soldiers in the crowd of spectators noticed the shy young woman standing in the shadows, her foot tapping in time with the music. Before Cora had time to retreat, the soldier grabbed her by the hand and pulled her out into the firelight. Protesting desperately, she tried to free herself, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. Looking anxiously from side to side, afraid of being seen, she had no choice but to be swept into the circle of dancers. Seeing no sign of her husband or his brothers, she permitted herself to enjoy a couple of rounds of the reel before darting back to her place in the shadows. But fortune apparently seldom smiled upon the unfortunate young woman, and she found Joe Leach waiting for her between the wagons.
Cora froze abruptly when she saw her husband standing in her way. He said nothing, but the anger in his eyes lashed out at her. Without a word of warning, he struck her with his fist, driving the hapless girl out of the shadows to crumple, dazed, to the ground at the feet of one of the couples. The music stopped instantly, and a hush enveloped the celebration. All were stunned—with the exception of one.
Having seen all of the marital abuse to the helpless girl that he was going to stand for, Jeb strode over to help Cora up. “God damn you,” Joe snarled. “Get your hands off my wife!” It was all he had time to say, for Jeb whirled around and planted his fist squarely on Joe’s nose. He put everything he had behind the punch, hoping to drive his fist right through the scoundrel’s skull. Tanner would almost swear later that he heard Joe’s nose crack from across the circle of wagons.
Joe staggered backward before tripping over the wagon tongue and landing hard on his back. “You’re pretty damn good at beatin’ on women,” Jeb snarled. “Let’s see how you like it with somebody who’ll fight back.”
Joe didn’t move at once. His nose flattened, with blood streaming down into his mustache, he was too stunned to mount a defense. Finding that he could not breathe through his nose, he could only gasp for air with his mouth hanging open. With the crowd closing in around the altercation, he tried to get to his feet, but was still dazed from Jeb’s haymaker.
Terrified to a state of panic, Cora stood helpless, not knowing what to do. Afraid of what Joe might do to her if she didn’t help him, she started to go to his side. Jeb caught her elbow. “Don’t go back with that son of a bitch. He ain’t fit to have a wife,” he said.
She looked at him with frightened eyes, afraid she had no choice. “He’ll kill me if I don’t,” she replied, knowing she had no place to go.
“He’s right, honey.” Ida Freeman spoke up. “You can’t go back with that man. You can stay with Jacob and me.”
Her statement caused a look of surprise on Jacob’s face, but he rose to the Christian moment. “That’s right, Cora. You can stay with us.”
“Here, honey,” Ida said. “Let me take a look at that cut beside your eye.” She shook her head in disgust. “There’s gonna be a right nasty bruise there. You’re gonna ride with us. No woman oughta put up with trash like Joe Leach.”
As Joe Leach crawled to the wagon wheel, struggling to help himself up, he looked furtively at the faces in the crowd, all staring at him accusingly. From the other side of the circle, Tanner Bland walked almost casually over to stand a few yards behind the spectators. He knew Jeb needed no help with Joe. He was concerned about Joe’s three brothers, however, wondering why they had not responded. They were nowhere in sight. Turning his gaze back to Joe again, he watched with interest as the stunned bully steadied himself on the wagon wheel, obviously trying to decide if he should meet Jeb’s challenge or retreat to lick his wounds. In a rare moment of sanity, he decided upon the latter and turned on his heel, the sound of a growing swell of muttering in the crowd of spectators ringing in his ears.
“Bad business, this,” Jacob Freeman mumbled to Floyd Reece, who had come to stand beside him.
“I expect so,” Floyd agreed, shaking his head solemnly. “There’s liable to be hell to pay.” The two leaders of the wagon train had tiptoed around the four violent brothers ever since they joined them in Council Grove. What they had hoped to avoid might now have been triggered by Jeb Hawkins’ actions. “I don’t reckon we can blame the young feller for what he did. We all knew how that no-good son of a bitch was treatin’ his wife. But we figured it wouldn’t be our problem once we left Fort Larned. We’d be shed of ’em.”
Jacob glanced at the two women still standing near the campfire, Ida obviously trying to talk the frightened young girl out of going back to her abusive husband. While he knew that what Ida did was the right thing, he would have been a lot more comfortable had she not. “Well,” he decided, “I don’t think they’re liable to do much while we’re camped here by the fort, but when we leave here, I don’t know….” He paused when Tanner Bland joined them.
“I guess my partner might have stirred up some trouble,” Tanner said. “That Leach crowd doesn’t look like the kind to turn the other cheek. I expect Jeb and I will ride along with you a bit farther tomorrow, in case you need some extra help.”
“I appreciate it,” Jacob replied. He was about to say more, but his wife interrupted at that point.
“Cora’s gonna ride in our wagon, Jacob. Right now, I need to have somebody go with us to get her things.”
Overhearing, Jeb at once volunteered. “I’ll go with you,” he said.
Ida paused a moment, looking at Tanner standing silently by. She sensed that of the two partners, Tanner might prove to be the more formidable, but Jeb had already demonstrated his ability to stand up to challenge. Turning back to Jeb, she said, “Thank you, sir.” Taking Cora by the arm, she started toward Joe’s wagon. Jeb stepped in on the other side of Cora.
Joe was not in the wagon when Jeb and the two women approached. Cora, not wishing to spend an instant longer than necessary, quickly went to a trunk near the front of the wagon. It didn’t take but a moment or two to collect her simple belongings, and she soon climbed down with everything she owned in her two arms. Jeb was quick to help her, taking her elbow to steady her, unaware of the shadowy figure suddenly moving up to the front of the wagon.
Burning with shame and indignation, his nose and cheek already swelling and bruised, Joe carefully pulled the wagon sheet aside to peer through at his antagonist standing at the rear of the wagon. His hand dropped slowly to rest on the handle of his pistol. As his fingers closed around the handle, he heard the warning behind him.
“I wouldn’t if I was you,” Tanner Bland cautioned softly. Joe froze with his hand still on the weapon. “All you got so far is a bloody nose. You’d best settle for that. A rifle slug is gonna hurt a helluva lot more.”
At the front of the wagon, Jeb quickly reached for his revolver when he heard the warning. He stepped in front of Ida and Cora, prepared to defend them. At the other end of the wagon he heard Tanner tell Joe to back away. A moment later, Tanner called out, “You’d best escort the ladies on back now, Jeb.”
Realizing then just how close they had come to a violent reprisal from Cora’s husband, Ida grabbed Cora by the arm and hurried the trembling girl away. Looking quickly at Jeb as she passed him, she remarked, “I didn’t even know your friend was back there.”
Jeb grinned as he replied, “Tanner’s always back there.”
“What the hell—” Ike Leach stopped in midsentence. He pulled the wagon sheet back all the way to get a closer look, then turned his head to call back over his shoulder. “Garth, come take a look at this!” Turning back to his younger brother who was sitting in the front corner of the wagon, he blurted, “What the hell happened to you?”
Joe, who had until that moment been sitting with his head tilted back, trying to find a position that eased the throbbing in his face, gazed at his brother through swollen eyes. He did not answer the question at once, dreading the berating he was bound to receive from Garth. Garth did not disappoint.
Pushing Ike aside, the huge man stared at Joe for a long moment before speaking. “I figure the man that done the job on your face is dead. If he ain’t, then I expect you’d best be explainin’ why he ain’t, little brother.”
“Where’s Cora?” Jesse asked.
Realizing then that the girl was missing, Garth stepped back from the wagon and looked left and right before sticking his head back inside. “Where is Cora?” he insisted.
“They took her,” Joe replied.
Failing to understand, Garth demanded, “Who took her?”
“They did,” was all Joe answered, nodding toward the center of the circle of wagons.
“Freeman and that bunch?” Ike asked, obviously surprised.
“Well, it weren’t Jacob, but his wife was the one that talked Cora into it,” Joe meekly explained.
Garth could not believe what he was hearing. “You let that old biddy take your wife away from you? You still ain’t told me who made a buffalo wallow outta your face. Did Ida Freeman do that?” Impatient with his brother’s lack of backbone, he said, “Crawl on outta that wagon and tell me what the hell happened here while we was over at the fort.”
Dutifully, Joe crawled out of the wagon. His three brothers crowded up close to him to inspect the damage to his face. “It was them two new fellers,” Joe offered in explanation. “That one, the one that’s been shining up to Cora, hit me when I wasn’t lookin’. I think he broke my nose. Then that Freeman bitch run off with Cora. I was fixin’ to go back and take care of that bastard, but I’m waitin’ till I can see straight.”
“What did he hit you with?” Jesse wanted to know. “A rifle butt?”
“I don’t know,” Joe lied. “I told you, he hit me when I wasn’t lookin’.”
“Well, he’s a dead man,” Garth fumed, his anger rising now. “He’ll never see the sun come up tomorrow.”
Equally eager to retaliate, but a bit cooler in the head, Ike offered his advice. “It don’t seem like a very healthy thing to go shootin’ up a bunch of people right here at the fort. We might oughta wait till we pull outta here tomorrow, and then do the job.”
“Ike’s right,” Garth said, cooling down a little. “We’ll wait till we’re on the trail again. Then, by God, we’ll have us a funeral. In the meantime, we’ll bide our time.”
“Uh-oh,” Jacob Freeman muttered under his breath.
Ida looked up to see the imposing bulk of Garth Leach approaching from across the way. She quickly glanced back at her wagon, where Cora was feeding the campfire with more wood. She immediately got to her feet and headed to the wagon. Seeing her ominous brother-in-law, Cora went to stand beside Ida at the wagon. Not waiting for Jacob to speak, Ida demanded, “What do you want here, Garth Leach?”
Garth didn’t answer until he came to a halt almost at her feet. Glowering down at her, he said, “You got some gall to talk snotty to me, ain’t you?” He glanced at Jacob before continuing, confident that he wasn’t going to cause any trouble. “Kidnapping a man’s wife, and you call yourself a Christian.” Then looking past her, he snarled at Cora, who was clutching the wagon wheel as if afraid she would be torn from it. “Cora, I’m givin’ you a chance to come on back to your husband, and you won’t be punished, so come along, girl. Get your things.”
“She ain’t coming with you,” Ida replied.
Garth glanced at her with a cold eye. “I ain’t talkin’ to you, am I?” Looking at Cora again, he said, “Come on, Cora. You’ve got chores to do.”
Speaking barely above a whisper, Cora replied, “I’m not coming back, Garth. I don’t want no more beatings. I’m gone for good.”
Garth glared at the frightened girl for a long moment before giving his warning. “You’re gonna be mighty sorry you said that.” He turned to leave, barely glancing at Jacob, who had stood without protesting the whole time.
“Maybe I’d better go on back with him,” Cora said. “I’m afraid he’s gonna cause you some trouble.”
“Nonsense!” Ida replied. “We ain’t a’feared of that big ol’ bear. Him and his brothers need to know a woman ain’t something to beat on anytime they feel like it.” Even as she said it, she cast an uncertain glance in her husband’s direction.
Jacob said nothing, but shook his head slowly before turning away. Garth Leach was hardly the kind of bully who would take a tongue-lashing from a woman and then turn tail and run. There was going to be trouble ahead for the folks in the wagon train. He wished at that point that Jeb Hawkins had not taken it upon himself to avenge the girl’s abuse. He also wished that Ida had simply kept her nose out of the affair. It’s too late to do anything about it now, he thought.