Sergeant Cary Cox rapped lightly on the tent pole before entering Colonel Stanton’s tent. “Colonel, sir, Parsons is back,” he said, a spark of urgency in his tone. “Pepper O’Brien and Royce Johnson are both dead, killed by Sioux hostiles. Jonah was just lucky he got out with his scalp.”
Stanton put down the journal he had been writing in, and paused a moment to consider what his sergeant had just said. “Is that a fact?” he finally answered. He had issued orders to be notified immediately when the man claiming to be Jonah Parsons returned to camp. Pike was the man’s real name, according to Jordan Gray, but Stanton had decided to keep this information to himself for fear that Pike might accidentally be tipped off. He intended to have him put under arrest as soon as he was back. Stopped momentarily by the sobering news that two of his best scouts had been killed, he had to consider the circumstances of their deaths. If they had truly been killed by hostiles, maybe they had found Crazy Horse’s camp. If so, Pike could possibly be of some use even if under arrest for murder. “Sergeant Cox, take a couple of men, and bring Parsons to me.”
“Yessir,” Cox responded, puzzled by the order. “You want me to detail two men to go with me to tell him?”
“I believe that was what I ordered,” Stanton replied curtly. “And I didn’t say tell him to report to me—I said bring him to me.”
“Yessir,” Cox again responded, and turned at once to leave the tent—too long a soldier to further question orders.
When informed that Colonel Stanton wanted to see him, Bill Pike naturally assumed that the colonel wanted information about the fight with the Sioux. “Sure,” he responded. “I’ll be along directly, soon as I get myself somethin’ to eat.” He preferred to have as little contact with the army officers as possible.
“My orders are to bring you to the colonel now,” Cox insisted.
Pike was somewhat surprised by the sergeant’s abrupt response. He glanced at the two privates accompanying Cox, neither of whom seemed the slightest bit interested, and a worm of worry began to tunnel away in his brain. Why did it take three soldiers to tell him the colonel wanted to see him? Well, he thought, I ain’t got much choice. “Well, hell then,” he said. “Let’s go see the damn colonel.”
Sergeant Cox dutifully escorted Pike to the colonel’s tent. Stanton was standing outside awaiting them. “Here he is, sir,” Cox said. “Will that be all?” He and the other two soldiers turned to leave.
“Not quite all,” Stanton replied. “You men just stand where you are.”
“Yessir,” Cox said. He had better things to do, but his expression never revealed his impatience. He took one step backward to stand beside the two privates, his eyes straight ahead to avoid the curious glances of the two.
Stanton turned his full attention to Pike. “Now, then, Mr. Parsons, tell me what happened.”
Pike repeated the story he had already told several times since riding back into camp. He modestly related how he had done his best to lead the other two scouts out of danger, but they had been killed by the hostiles. Stanton kept pressing him about where they had been attacked, and what sign, if any, had they seen of the Sioux village. Pike’s answers were vague and hesitant. Stanton soon came to the conclusion that Pike wasn’t even sure where he had been. He was not completely convinced that he and the other two scouts were even attacked by hostiles.
“Mr. Pike, I’m not sure you have any idea where to look for the hostile camp.”
Pike was quick to protest. “Oh, I’ve got a’plenty ideas where them red devils is holed up. I’ve done a heap of scoutin’ in this country.” He looked anxiously at the colonel, confused by Stanton’s intense stare. It then registered that the colonel had addressed him as Mr. Pike. In a moment of panic, he blurted, “Parsons. My name’s Parsons.”
Stanton had already seen the guilt in his face. “Mr. Pike,” he repeated. “That is your name, isn’t it? Bill Pike?”
“Why, hell no. Who told you that?”
“An old friend of Jonah Parsons found his body where you left it after you murdered him. I expect you’ll hang for that.” He shifted his gaze to Sergeant Cox. “Place Mr. Pike under arrest, Sergeant Cox.”
Astounded after listening wide-eyed to the colonel’s astonishing accusation moments before, Cox was quick to respond. The two soldiers standing by suddenly realized why they were there, and reacted as well. Pike found himself securely restrained before he could raise a hand. “Hey, wait a minute!” he protested. “I ain’t kilt nobody. That old coot was already dead when I found him.”
“Is that a fact?” Stanton replied sarcastically. “Well, I’m sure all that will be considered at your trial. There’s also the matter of O’Brien and Johnson. I’ll be sending out a scout detail to find their bodies.” He shifted his gaze to Sergeant Cox. “Escort the prisoner to the adjutant’s tent. I’ll be along directly to file the charges.” That said, he turned and went back into his tent.
Captain Herbert Livesey was not particularly pleased to be presented with the problem of Bill Pike. When the regiment was in the field, there was no stockade to incarcerate felons, so the question that confronted him was what to do with Pike. Livesey was not, in fact, the regimental adjutant. He was the acting adjutant while the troop was in the field. The most he had been called upon to deal with was drunken soldiers, fistfights, insubordination, and dereliction of duty—all offenses that could be dealt with handily with company punishment. Leaving the prisoner under heavy guard, he went to confer with General Crook on the situation. Crook’s initial reaction was to simply shoot the man and be done with it. Upon further discussion with his staff, however, he changed his mind. Because Pike was a civilian, it was decided the best course of action was to escort him back to Fort Fetterman to be incarcerated in the guardhouse to await trial.
Instructed to assign one officer and four enlisted men to escort Pike, Livesey immediately thought of Winston Castle. The young lieutenant was newly transferred to the regiment and, as junior officer, he was the obvious selection. Most new officers were anxious to prove themselves in any assignment. As he suspected, Castle eagerly accepted the thankless task, and the escort party prepared to get underway early the next morning.
After the standard breakfast of coffee, hardtack, bacon, and a little sugar, the guard detail set out for Fort Fetterman. Lieutenant Castle led, followed by two troopers. Behind them rode a silent and sullen Bill Pike. The other two troopers brought up the rear. It was a diverse collection of troopers. Lieutenant Castle, erect and proper, still new to the frontier, in command of four regimental derelicts. When called upon to detail one man for the escort duty, each of the four company commanders naturally took the opportunity to send their worst soldier. Consequently, the guard detail was made up of four misfits who could, by no stretch of the imagination, be mistaken for model soldiers. There was no need for a guide. Even if Castle wasn’t sure of the way back to Fort Fetterman, there was a broad enough trail left by the massive column on the march out to Goose Creek some weeks back.
The prisoner escort made good time, reaching a campsite on the banks of the Crazy Woman Creek at the end of the first day. Lieutenant Castle ordered Wheeler and Reed to gather wood for a fire while Ives and Slidell were assigned to guard the prisoner. When their supper was finished, Castle retreated a few yards from the others to sip his coffee away from the banter of the enlisted men.
Bill Pike grimaced when Ives clamped the manacles back on his wrists. “How about you leave these damn things off so I can sleep?” he complained. “You got two men watchin’ me all the time. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Slidell grinned, enjoying the prisoner’s discomfort. “We don’t want you gettin’ too comfortable. Do we, Ives?” Ives made no comment, but went on to lock Pike’s chains, a grin on his face to match Slidell’s. Slidell continued to amuse himself. “What if we was to forget to lock them cuffs? You could make a run for it. Then I’d have to put a bullet in your behind.”
“Yeah,” Ives said, joining in the fun, “and then we wouldn’t have to ride all the way to Fetterman.” He winked at Slidell. “Whaddaya say, Pike? We’d give you a head start, say a couple dozen yards or so. Wanna try it?”
“You can kiss my ass,” Pike growled, causing both men to chuckle.
Leaving the prisoner to sulk by the fire, Slidell and Ives withdrew a few feet to make themselves comfortable against the trunk of a large cottonwood. Riding as the rear guard most of the day, the two had often fallen back far enough to talk without being overheard. Although assigned to different companies, they had found right away that many of their interests were shared—especially their dislike for army life on the frontier. Ives confided to Slidell that he had entertained thoughts of deserting ever since starting out on the first day of this campaign when the column had marched out of Fort Fetterman in a blinding snowstorm. Slidell admitted that he had similar notions when he had seen so many civilians at Fort Laramie passing through on their way to the gold strike in the Black Hills. The more they talked about it during the long day, the more they had become convinced that they had been handed a golden opportunity with this assignment. Now, as Slidell pointed out, they were already a day’s ride away from the column. It would be a simple trick to take off during the night when they were pulling their shift at guarding Pike.
“What are you two jokers talkin’ about?” Private Reed inquired as he sidled over to join the conversation.
“Oh, nothin’ much,” Slidell replied. “We was just sayin’ how much we admired bein’ in the army.”
“Ha!” Reed snorted, and sat down. “I thought for a minute there you might tell me a lie.”
“We was just wonderin’ about the lieutenant over there,” Ives said. “I don’t know much about him.”
Reed shrugged. “There ain’t much to know, I reckon—West Point, I heard—married the post commander’s daughter at Fort Laramie.” He turned his head to glance at Lieutenant Castle, who was still quietly sipping his coffee. “Green as Carolina grass,” Reed said. “He don’t know an Injun from a railroad conductor.”
Slidell grinned and winked at Ives. “Well, that just puts the frostin’ on the cake, don’t it?” Ives chuckled in response. Reed grinned as well, unaware of the significance of the remark.
Later, when it was time to turn in, Lieutenant Castle was about to give orders for the guard detail. He had planned to rotate the four men on one-hour shifts throughout the night when Slidell made a suggestion. “Beggin’ your pardon, Lieutenant, but it might be better if we partner up, and stand two-hour shifts. That way one man can keep an eye on Mr. Pike over there, but make sure the other man don’t go off to sleep. Me and Ives can take the second shift if that’s all right with ever’body.”
It seemed sensible to Castle, and he really didn’t care as long as the prisoner was watched throughout the night. “All right,” he said, “if that’s the way you’d prefer it, we’ll do it that way. Reed, you and Wheeler take the first shift, and wake Slidell and Ives up in two hours. Tomorrow night, Slidell and Ives can take the first shift.” The guard rotation set, the detail settled in for the night. On the opposite side of the fire, a scowling Bill Pike attempted to make himself comfortable with his wrists locked together and a chain doubled back around a willow trunk.
It was a little past midnight when Reed awakened Slidell. Slidell sat up without protest, and reached over with his foot to nudge his partner. Ives awakened with a grunt, taking a few seconds to realize where he was. “All right, boys,” Slidell said cheerfully, “you can go get your beauty rest now.” He looked over at the prisoner, curled up around the willow, seeking warmth against the cool night air. Satisfied, he then looked at the lieutenant, fast asleep and snoring softly. Like babes, he thought. In a short time, Reed and Wheeler would join them.
Reed awakened in a fit of discomfort. He rolled over on his side and pulled his blanket up over his shoulders. After a few moments, he turned back on his other side, still chilly. It was then he realized that the fire had almost died out. Damn, he thought, and rose up on his elbow. Looking around him, he couldn’t see Slidell or Ives. Looking quickly toward the willow, he was relieved to see Pike still wrapped around the tree. He still had a feeling something wasn’t exactly right, however. Where in hell were Ives and Slidell? And why in hell had they let the fire die out?
He craned his neck to look behind him. Wheeler was sleeping peacefully, a low raspy snore issuing from his lips. About to convince himself that everything was all right, he decided to see what time it was, but he found it difficult to see his pocket watch in the deep darkness. So he picked up a splinter of wood and held it in the coals until it suddenly burst into flame. Using it as a light, he peered at his watch. What he saw immediately alarmed him. It was a quarter past four.
He rolled out of his blanket and scrambled to his feet, looking about in the darkness for Slidell or Ives. They were nowhere to be seen. Those two no-good . . . He didn’t finish the thought when he suddenly realized that two of the horses were missing. Slidell and Ives were not sleeping on duty. They were gone—deserted! “Well, ain’t this a pickle?” he said aloud, both amazed and disgusted.
Lieutenant Castle was properly alarmed when awakened by Reed a few minutes later. His first thought was concern for how the desertion of two of his detail would look to his superiors. He knew he should do something about it, but at the moment he wasn’t sure what that might be. Maybe he should order the others to mount up and go after them—he wasn’t sure. That idea was quickly squelched when Reed told him there was no sense trying to trail them in the dark. Because it would soon be dawn, Castle decided to eat breakfast, and wait for light enough to look for a trail.
When the sun finally made its appearance, it revealed two sets of tracks leading down into the creek—and that was as far as the trail led. “They coulda gone up or down stream,” Wheeler said. “It could take us all day, lookin’ up and down this creek, trying to find where they come out.”
“Hell, they’re gone,” Reed stated flatly. “With the start they got on us, we’d never catch ’em, anyway.”
The lieutenant was thoroughly perplexed, feeling helpless to act. Unsure of what he should do, he accepted the troopers’ opinion, and announced that they would continue on to Fort Fetterman as they had been ordered to do. Reed and Wheeler were already grumbling about the extra responsibility they had been dealt by the desertions.
The only person amused by the situation was Bill Pike. “Hey,” he yelled, “how ’bout unlocking my hands before I have to piss in my pants.”
“Go ahead and piss in ’em,” Wheeler replied, but Castle ordered him to free Pike’s hands.
Following the old government road, the reduced guard detail reached the ruins of Fort Reno at midday, and Castle permitted a brief rest for the noonday meal. It was still about eighty miles from there to Fort Fetterman. And although he wanted to make the trip in as short a time as possible, he was persuaded to allow a little extra time for Reed and Wheeler to search about the camp for any food supplies that might have been left behind when the column moved through some weeks back. The prisoner was secured to a tree trunk while the two troopers foraged for whatever might be found.
Pike had become more and more insolent after the desertion of Slidell and Ives—to the point of unspoken defiance. Despite the fact that he was always kept in chains, his demeanor was that of a man who gave no serious thought toward remaining in custody. When Reed and Wheeler disappeared beyond the still-standing chimneys of the old officers’ quarters, Pike’s surly scowl suddenly turned into a wry smile. Shifting his body around to face the lieutenant, he spoke, “It’s been three solid days since I last took a shit, Lieutenant. And I feel a powerful urge right now.”
Castle, his face screwed up in undisguised irritation, responded, “The guards will be back in a few minutes. They’ll take you to relieve yourself then.”
“I’m hurtin’ pretty bad, Lieutenant. It’s boilin’ up in my guts somethin’ awful. I don’t know if I can hold it till then.”
“I guess you’ll just have to,” Castle replied.
Pike made a show of agonized discomfort as he shifted his body back and forth. “I don’t think I can,” he groaned, and gazed at the lieutenant plaintively. “If you would just unchain my hands, I could get it done real quick.” When Castle showed reluctance to do so, Pike pleaded, “Hell, if you could just free up one of my hands, I might be able to shit right here—if I can just get my britches down.”
The man’s plight was desperate. Castle could appreciate that, but he was still reluctant to free Pike, even for the short time it would take for a man to evacuate his bowels. He stood and looked impatiently toward the ruins of the old post, but Reed and Wheeler were out of sight. Turning his gaze back to light on Pike, he was met with an expression of deep misery. Winston Castle was not a hard-hearted man by nature, but he was not inclined to release a man as dangerous as Bill Pike. He looked again toward the ruins, hoping to see Reed and Wheeler returning. They had evidently gone on down to the creek, for there was no one in sight. Pike began a low mournful moan.
“All right,” Castle conceded. “I’ll free one hand so you can get your trousers down, but that’s all. You can relieve yourself right where you are.” He wished that Wheeler had not already started a fire to boil some coffee. It would have been more desirable to be a little more distant from the spot where Pike defecated.
With his pistol in one hand, and the key to the manacles in the other, Castle carefully unwound several links of the chain that Reed had wrapped around the tree trunk. His eyes locked on Castle’s, Pike gazed at the lieutenant with the look of a grateful hound. He eagerly held his hands out to be released. “One hand,” Castle reminded him.
“My right hand,” Pike pleaded. “I can’t do nothin’ left-handed.”
“All right,” Castle said, and unlocked the manacle on Pike’s right hand.
“I reckon we’d best get on back before the lieutenant thinks we took off after Slidell and Ives.” Reed tossed the empty container aside. Their search for discarded hardtack had been unsuccessful. Scavengers had long since picked the campsite clean of anything edible. “Reckon Castle might let us take a little time to hunt somethin’ to eat?”
Wheeler shook his head. “I doubt it. I think he’s wantin’ to shed himself of the prisoner as soon as he can.”
“Ives and Slidell mighta had the right idea,” Reed mused aloud. “Wonder where they headed?”
“Knowin’ Slidell,” Wheeler responded, “I know they didn’t head up to Montana. He ain’t likely to expose his sorry ass to them Cheyenne and Sioux. They either headed south or took off to the Black Hills.”
“I expect so,” Reed agreed. He gave the empty container a kick. “Yessir, them boys mighta had the right idea, all right.”
“Damn! Look at that!” Reed grabbed Wheeler’s arm just as he was about to step up onto a large flat rock near the water’s edge.
“Damn!” Wheeler echoed, seeing the cause of Reed’s alarm at that instant. There, coiled on the rock, was a large rattlesnake, its head raised, ready to strike. Wheeler would have stepped right in front of it if Reed had not grabbed his arm. The buzzing of the reptile’s rattles had been muffled by the sound of the water gurgling around the rocks. Both men took a step backward.
“He’s six foot if he’s an inch,” Reed speculated.
“He’s meat,” Wheeler pronounced, and drew his revolver from the holster. Steadying his gun hand with his other, he took careful aim at the angry snake. “Just hold still, darlin’,” he cooed, trying to get a bead on the swaying head.
After a long moment passed and Wheeler had still not fired, Reed chided him. “Hell, if I had my pistol, I’da done blowed his head off.”
“He won’t hold still,” Wheeler complained.
“Lemme have the pistol. I’ll fix him quick enough.”
Rather than yield to his companion, Wheeler fired. The rattlesnake dropped immediately, shot through the head. “Goddam,” he exclaimed, impressed with his own marksmanship. “He’s meat now.”
Both men stepped closer to gawk at the dead reptile. After a moment to make sure the snake was truly no longer a threat, Wheeler reached down and picked it up. “Damn! That sucker’s heavy. Look at that, Reed. His body’s as big around as my leg.” Then a mischievous thought crossed his mind. “We could have us a little fun with this jasper.” He nodded his head toward the old fort ruins above them.
Reed caught on immediately. “I expect he heard that shot. He’s probably already nervous about that.” It was common knowledge among the men that Lieutenant Castle was a greenhorn as far as duty west of the Missouri was concerned. “He’d probably shit his pants if we dropped this beauty at his feet.” They both giggled at the picture the thought invoked. “Come on, let’s go see if them new lieutenants shit yellow like a baby.”
Still about fifty yards away, they could see the prisoner chained to the tree and the lieutenant sitting close by. “Now what the hell is he doin’?” Reed commented.
“He’s probably tellin’ ol’ Pike about the price of sin,” Wheeler said, causing both men to chuckle. It was an unusual sight, for Castle had never said more than a mouthful of words to the prisoner before, wanting as little to do with Pike as possible.
The lieutenant appeared to pay them no mind as they approached. His back to them, he continued to sit near the tree where Pike was chained. Dragging his trophy behind him, Wheeler had a grin spread wide across his face in anticipation of Castle’s reaction when the rattlesnake was plopped down before him.
“Well, we didn’t have no luck,” Reed said as they walked up.
“You still ain’t got no luck.”
Both men were startled when Pike spoke. Before they could react, Pike placed a foot in Castle’s back and shoved the corpse over on its side. Too late, they discovered the lieutenant’s revolver in Pike’s hand. Reed reacted, anyway. He made a run for the rifle in his saddle boot. Pike put two bullets in his back before he had taken three strides. He then calmly brought the pistol around to aim directly at a stunned Wheeler, who was still holding onto the huge rattlesnake. “Now if you don’t want the same, you’d best fetch that key laying on the ground yonder.”
Wheeler started to do as he was told, then hesitated as he thought the situation over. “What’s gonna keep you from shootin’ me after I give you the key?”
Pike frowned, obviously irritated. “Well, I’m sure as hell gonna shoot you if you don’t,” he replied.
“That may be so,” Wheeler said, still pondering his chances, “but you’d still have one hand chained to a tree.”
A flash of anger sparked in Pike’s eye, but was quickly extinguished to take on a gentler gaze when he realized that Wheeler was right. “Hell, man, you’ve got it all wrong. I didn’t wanna kill your partner there,” he said nodding toward Reed’s body. “But he was tryin’ to get to his rifle to shoot me. He didn’t give me no choice. All I want is to get myself the hell and gone. I got no reason to wanna kill you—honest to God, man. But I will if you don’t fetch me that key.”
Wheeler studied Pike’s face, trying to read truth there. In the final analysis, it came down to one simple fact—if he didn’t do as Pike wished, he was going to die. That much was certain. He decided to take the one option that offered a chance for survival, slim as it might be. “All right,” he said, finally releasing the snake. As he did, he thought of the pistol in his holster. His right hand was free now.
Reading his thoughts, Pike warned, “I’d cut you down before you even got it outta the holster.”
Knowing that to be the truth of the matter, Wheeler shrugged and picked up the key. “Just take it easy, man. I ain’t gonna try nothin’.” He moved closer to Pike, but stopped short of handing over the key. “There ain’t no need for anymore killin’ here. I ain’t the one that wanted you arrested. I was just doin’ what they ordered me to do. I don’t care one way or the other.”
“I know that,” Pike said. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about. Just stick that key in here and unlock me from this damn tree, and me and you’ll be square.”
“That suits me,” Wheeler replied, and fit the key in the lock. That done, he stepped back a couple of steps while Pike pulled the remaining coils of chain from the tree.
Once free of his chains, Pike favored Wheeler with a wide grin. Wheeler returned it with one of his own. An instant later, it turned to a look of horror as Pike raised the pistol and pointed it directly into Wheeler’s face. The impact of the bullet at such close range knocked the stunned victim down—an ugly black hole centered in his forehead.
Pike watched dispassionately as Wheeler’s lifeblood formed a crimson pool under his head. Satisfied that the man was dead, he then turned his attention to the snake. Talking to the dead man, he said, “I wonder if you was thinkin’ ’bout eatin’ that thing.” He considered that possibility for a few moments before discarding it. “I ain’t eatin’ no damn snake,” he stated. “I ain’t no damn savage.”