The Endorsement
Chapter 1
Lieutenant Warner tightened his grip on the reins but remained expressionless, as he watched them ride away. He fought the urge to draw his pistol and just gun them down. He had a clear shot and would have no qualms about shooting the worthless savages in the back, apart from the fact it would be expressly against orders. The fifty or so warriors, overlooking their position, festooned in feathers and sitting on painted ponies, creating striking silhouettes against the blazing sun, was another good reason not to act.
Sergeant Cutler sat passively on his horse, at the Lieutenant's side. The tension emanating from his commanding officer was palpable and he was only too aware of the frustration and anger the Lieutenant must be feeling. He too felt this was a fool's mission and a waste of army time and resources. To expect these savages to be reasonable and agree to sign a treaty, giving them the right to continue to live on a portion of land, donated by the U.S. government, was preposterous, in his mind. But orders were orders and he'd been in the army long enough to know you didn't question the reasoning of higher ranks but just do your utmost to carry out your duties, to the best of your abilities.
Casting a quick glance in the Lieutenant's direction, Sergeant Cutler knew he felt the same and this was all too well illustrated by the younger man's clenched jaw and stony, yet resigned expression. Feeling Cutler's gaze upon him, Warner took a breath and cleared his throat.
"Sergeant," he said, in a commanding tone.
"Sir?" Cutler replied.
"Prepare the men to return to town."
"Yes, Sir." Cutler spun his horse around and started barking orders to the dozen or so assembled men, who had been waiting patiently.
Lieutenant Warner took one last look into the distance, at the hills into which the Indians had disappeared from view and turned his horse to join his men.
As he did so, he muttered, "I'm not done with you damn heathens yet."
Cody ran his fingertips along the brim of his hat and smirked at his image, in the mirror, before him.
"I swear, Cody, if you stand there preening yourself anymore then we're never gonna get to town," Noah told him, placing his own hat on his head and making for the bunkhouse door.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with trying to look your best and showin' a little pride in your appearance," Cody retorted. "Especially when there may be a lady involved," he added, with a grin and a wink.
"Heck, Cody, the day any lady is gonna pay some attention to you, is the day you say you ain't hungry," Jimmy told him flatly.
Raucous laughter filled the bunkhouse as Cody slid a sideways look of annoyance in Jimmy's direction and maintained a nonchalant expression.
"Well, we going or not?" asked Noah. "You sure you're not gonna come, Buck?" he enquired of the only one not preparing to leave.
"I'm sure," the dark haired rider, sitting at the table, replied in a low husky voice, as he turned the page of the book he was pretending to read.
Ike regarded his friend with concern.
"I'll be fine. Kid should be back from his run soon. Just don't feel like going into town today," Buck stated.
"Well, if you're sure," said Noah, guiding Cody out of the door with a firm hand on his back.
"I'll have a sarsaparilla for you, Buck," Cody called over his shoulder, before bouncing down the bunkhouse steps and making his way to his horse, with Noah and Jimmy close behind. Ike paused at the door and smiled at Buck, giving him a small nod of understanding and then he followed the other riders.
Buck sighed as peace and quiet descended. Placing his book on the table, he moved to the window and watched his friends ride away. It would have been good to go to town with them but he knew it could only bring them trouble and that was something for which he didn't want to be responsible. The riders needed little help in finding trouble at the best of times. With the army in town and all the latest Indian activity, he felt the best thing to do was to lay low for a while. No need to invite trouble – he'd leave that to Hickok!
All the same, he couldn't help but worry about his Kiowa friends and his brother, Red Bear. He knew his life was here, in the white world, with the Pony Express now but the mounting intolerance, against the Indian nations, caused him great concern. His standing within the community was tenuous enough and he felt powerless to help his people. All he could do was wait and see what would happen, although he knew in his heart that the outcome would not be good for the tribes.
For a while he stood, leaning against the window frame, lost in his thoughts and memories, gazing out at the open space, which led to the mountains, which were so similar to those where he had spent his early years with his mother and brother. He had some happy memories from those days, mainly about his mother and the care and devotion she had shown in their short time together. Red Bear had been as good a brother as propriety would allow, within the ways of the Kiowa but Buck knew his half blood status had been a burden to his brother. But those days were long gone and he'd made a new life for himself, here with the Pony Express and, for the first time in a long while, he was happy.
Movement on the horizon caught his attention and he could just make out a rising dust cloud and a dark speck. Making his way outside, he waited on the porch for the figure to get closer, confirming it was Kid, returning from his run. As the rider neared he was able to make out Katy's distinctive markings and knew for sure his friend was coming home safe and sound, giving him a brief feeling of relief and elation. Raising his hand in greeting, he stepped off the porch and waited for Kid to rein in the mare.
"How was your run?" Buck asked casually, to hide his true concerns.
"It was fine," Kid replied, as he slid tiredly from the saddle.
"No trouble?"
"None," Kid answered, taking Katy's reins and beginning to lead her towards the barn.
"That's good," Buck responded, strolling alongside him.
Kid suddenly pulled Katy to a halt. "Everything alright, Buck?"
"Fine."
"Only you seem a little … I don't know … uneasy?"
Buck looked at Kid's earnest face. "There's been some more trouble and the army is in town," he told him in way of explanation.
"Oh," Kid replied simply, instantly understanding Buck's apprehension. "Where's everyone else?"
"Town, apart from Lou who went with Rachel to the Huxley's to help with some chores."
"Mr. Huxley's arm still not mended?" Kid asked, leading Katie into the relatively dark, coolness of the barn.
Buck shook his head in response, as he leaned on a wooden partition, watching Kid remove his horse's tack.
"Why didn't you go to town with the others?"
"Didn't feel like it."
Kid caught Buck's eye as he turned to put the saddle on the partition. The young Kiowa dropped his gaze and grabbed a handful of straw and busied himself in helping rub down the mare.
Kid started to unbuckle the bridle. "You got no reason to hide away, Buck. You know we'll back you up," he said sincerely, understanding his friend's reluctance to go to town.
Buck said nothing but carried on vigorously rubbing the mare's back. Kid gave Katy's ears a scratch and flicked a look at his Indian friend.
"Things'll work out, Buck."
Buck gave a derisive snort. "Yeah, when all the tribes have been driven from their land," he retorted angrily, rubbing the mare's flank a little harder.
"I'm sure it won't come to that," Kid answered, but his response lacked conviction.
Letting the straw fall from his hand, Buck patted Katy's neck. "Rachel left some food for you in the bunkhouse. I got chores to do."
Kid watched him leave, knowing full well that Buck had probably finished all his chores hours ago, always being one of the first to rise in the morning, understanding he just needed a little time alone. He finished rubbing down the mare, gave her an extra scoop of feed and headed indoors to get some food for himself.
Lieutenant Warner stood inside his tent, unbuckled his sword and tossed it aside, onto the camp bed. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply. He felt he was caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, the Indians fitfully representing the devil and the sea being the blue of the uniform he wore so proudly. His orders were to get those heathens to sign some useless piece of paper and, if he was ever going to get that promotion he had worked so long and hard for, that was exactly what he intended to do, no matter how he achieved it.
He was a man who had come to the army in desperation and it had offered him a refuge from the constant ridicule and disapproval he had faced from his father. He had never quite managed to live up to the formidable man's expectations. The alternative would have been to work in the family business and that was something he would never have been able to stand. He felt he needed to prove himself to his over bearing father once and for all and obtaining a high rank within the army was the only choice he seemed to have. All that stood before him and a captaincy was those damned Indians.
The snap of the tent flap being opened caught his attention.
"Anything I can do for you, Lieutenant?" his loyal sergeant asked.
"No, that's fine, Sergeant Cutler. I've got some paper work to catch up on and some thinking to do on how to resolve our situation."
"Yes, Sir," Cutler replied, deferentially. "I'll leave you to it then, Sir," he said, beginning to duck back out of the tent.
"Sergeant," Warner said quickly, "why don't you take some time out, get yourself a drink and consider our problem too. I trust your judgement and know you have more field experience than me."
Sergeant Cutler stepped back inside, stood up straight and saluted the Lieutenant respectfully. "Yes, Sir," he said proudly.
Once outside, he smoothed down his hair, placed his hat carefully on his head, pulled on his gloves and headed off in the direction of the saloon, with a jaunty swagger. He'd learned a long time ago how to play the officers, to get them to your way of thinking, without them even realizing and Lieutenant Warner was the perfect foil. He felt no real loyalty towards the man but he did feel the young officer had been handed a raw deal with his current orders. He was as unhappy at being stuck in this backwater of a town, having to deal with a bunch of savages with little possibility of a successful outcome, as his commanding officer. In his mind it would be a lot simpler just to kill the whole damn lot of them.
It didn't take him long to locate the saloon and, licking his lips thirstily, he pushed his way through the bat wing doors. He noted there were only a few other patrons in the room, which suited him fine. Three men sat hunched over a card game at one table and one other man propped up the bar but they were the only other customers. He knew most town folk accepted the army being there but there were a few who went out of their way to show their displeasure. He was in no mood to deal with such folk today.
Making straight for the bar, he ordered a beer and a whiskey, ignoring the impertinent look from the bar tender and settled himself at a table in a back corner, where he sat in the shadows, sinking low in his seat so as not to draw any unwanted attention to himself. The saloon was quiet for a short while and he was enjoying the solitude when suddenly the doors burst open and a rowdy bunch of young men burst in and ordered a round of sarsaparillas. He was further irritated when they chose to sit at the table next to his but, as he'd nearly finished his drinks, decided to pay them no attention and make himself as inconspicuous as he could.
"Can't believe I got me a run tomorrow," griped the one in buckskins, with scraggy, blond hair. "Don't s'ppose anyone wants to swap?"
"You s'ppose right," the one with long, dark hair, replied, taking a sip of his drink.
The young Negro sat back in his chair and laughed and arched his eyebrows and gave an emphatic shake of his head as the blond one looked at him hopefully. The one wearing a bandana on his head, merely held up his hand, pressed his lips together and shook his head also. The Sergeant gave them all a covert quick once over and, deciding they offered no threat, apart from disturbing his peace, returned his attention to the amber liquid in his glass.
The riders were unaware of the attention they'd drawn from the soldier and, indeed, were so taken up in their own conversation, hadn't really noticed the man at the table next to them.
"Seems you're outta luck, Cody," Jimmy told him.
"And favors," Noah added. Ike folded his arms and smiled at the blond rider, who was resigning himself to the fact he had a long ride ahead of him the next day.
"I could always ask Buck," Cody said, thoughtfully.
"Nope, can't do that. He's on the run with me later in the day. Teaspoon wanted two of us to go," Jimmy informed him, draining his glass. "Anyone want another?" he asked, getting to his feet. Ike finished his own drink, nodded and got up to join Jimmy. "Let's go take a look at that poker game over there, Ike.
Might be able to help them out." Ike smirked and followed the would-be gunfighter.
Cody sat back, folded his arms and pulled a sulky face.
"Never mind, Cody. At least you've got the easier run. From what I heard Teaspoon tellin' Jimmy, the run he and Buck are goin' on could be kinda tough on account that they gotta go right through Kiowa land. The Express don't stop for nothin'."
"Reckon that's why Teaspoon wants Buck to go along – just in case."
"Just in case what? Can't see that Buck'll be that much help against a war party, even if he is half Kiowa," Noah commented.
"He might be, considering he's the war chief's brother," Cody told him, somewhat smugly.
"He's what?" Noah squeaked, his eyes wide with surprise.
Cody sat up and leaned forward enthusiastically, happy to have a captive audience. "Not long after we joined the Express there was some Indian trouble and Ike was taken captive. Buck managed to get him released, after doin' some sorta trials, to prove himself Kiowa. His one half may be white but it turned out he's half brother to Red Bear, the chief."
"You don't say?" Noah responded, in amazement. "He don't ever talk about it."
"Would you?" Cody asked.
"Guess not. That why he didn't wanna to come into town today?"
"Yeah. Folk don't take too kindly to him whenever there's any trouble, so he tends to keep his head down."
"I'm guessing they don't know about his brother, right?"
Cody raised his eyebrows at his friend. "Can you imagine what would happen if they ever found out? Buck wouldn't stand a chance."
"And I thought my life could be tricky," Noah muttered, taking another sip of his drink.
Their conversation turned to more mundane matters and they did not notice the man, in the blue uniform, surreptitiously slip from his seat and exit the saloon.
Lieutenant Warner snapped the ledger, in which he'd been writing, shut and tipped the remnants of his glass into his mouth. He held the warm, comforting liquid there for a moment before swallowing and debated his next move. He supposed he would have to go back and see the town Marshal – Hunter, wasn't it? Although, he had to admit, the man hadn't seemed too happy to see the army arrive in his town, commenting it always seemed to spell trouble. Perhaps he would be able to persuade the Marshal to suggest someone who could speak to the Kiowa for him. His own interpreter seemed to be sorely lacking when it came to negotiation.
Lifting the whiskey bottle, he was about to pour himself another glassful when there was a dull rapping on the post outside his tent entrance.
"Begging your pardon, Sir, I was wondering if I might have a quick word with you," came Sergeant Cutler's voice.
Warner closed his eyes in irritation at the interruption but told the Sergeant to enter, placing the bottle back inside a draw. Wouldn't do to let one of his men see him imbibing.
"Yes, Sergeant Cutler, what can I do for you?" he asked, returning the salute.
"Sir. I believe I have some important information for you."
"Well, I hope it's good news. I could do with some right now."
"Pretty sure it is, Sir."
"Well go ahead man, spit it out."
"I was having a quiet drink in the saloon, as of your instructions and …"
"Not sure I mentioned the saloon, Sergeant. We don't want any unnecessary bad feeling towards us in this town."
"No, Sir. Thing was, while I was in there a bunch of young men came in and …"
"Sergeant Cutler, if you're going to tell me you got into a fight with them and the good news is you won, I'm afraid you're going to be very disappointed in my response."
"Yes, Sir – I mean, no, Sir," a flummoxed sergeant responded. "Nothin' went on, Sir. In fact they didn't notice me at all and carried on talking. From what I could make out they rode for the Pony Express as they were discussing runs and such like …"
"And this is going to help with our present predicament, how?"
Sergeant Cutler stuck back his shoulders and took a breath. "Thing is, one of the riders is an injun."
"Ah, you've managed to locate a new interpreter. Good work, Cutler."
"That's not all, Sir. This particular injun is the chief's brother."
"What do you mean?" Warner asked in astonishment.
"Just what I said, Sir. I heard one of them Express riders tellin' another somethin' of real interest. Turns out that one of the Express riders is a half-breed and the war chief, Red Bear, is his half-blood brother."
Warner squinted at his sergeant, considering this new information and just how it could serve to his advantage.
"You think this half-breed would act as an interpreter for us and talk to his supposed brother? I understand the Marshal is involved with the Express and I intended to ask for his help."
"He may do, Sir. No harm in askin', although I don't think his connection to the chief is widely known so best not to say nothin' about that. Folks might get a bit tetchy about it and no point stirrin' up no trouble."
"Hmmm?" Warner considered this proposition, not certain he'd have the full cooperation of the hard-bitten Marshal, let alone the half-breed rider.
"I'll go and see Marshal Hunter first thing in the morning," Warner told the sergeant, saluting to signify his dismissal.
Cutler returned the salute and ducked back out of the tent, not sure the lieutenant had fully understood the implications of his information.