A regiment is led by a colonel and is composed of 1,000 men divided into 10 companies of 100 men each. A company is led by a captain.
Seven ~ Burdian's Ass
"I've been thinking about it, Pa, ever since that cold beer. Refrigeration is the next step way out here; it might be a good idea to invest in it. These double-walled railcars keep beer packed in ice cold; other items could also be kept cold, or at least cool enough to make the trip out west. Back east, they use these compression pumps to…"
Ben Cartwright barely listened, his cheek resting on a raised hand as he shredded the piece of angel food cake with the fork. With the spoonful of strawberry preserves on top, it was creating a bloody-looking mess. He was pleased Adam showed enthusiasm for investing money, but was disappointed his eldest's enthusiasm wasn't for preserving and improving the Ponderosa.
"Wait, Adam," Joe said, "I don't understand how double-walls have anything to do with keeping things cool?"
"That's the insulation, the air between them is sucked out to make a vacuum, you know, like a water pump does only instead of water, it's the air that's pulled out. It's like I said that time about double-pane windows, how they would work better to keep the heat out of the house in the summer and cooler in the winter. But there might be a better material to put between the walls of a railcar to provide better insulation. I've been going over in my head…"
The knocker sounded on the front door, demanding their attention. Ben placed his fork on the dessert plate, looking up. "Now who could that be?"
Hoss looked about the table but no one else moved. "I guess I'm answerin' the door," he said, tossing his napkin beside his plate. It was Sheriff Coffee and two men, one in a well-tailored suit and a derby, and carrying an attaché case. The other wore a military dress uniform. His long, dark blue jacket had a double row of 12 brass buttons in three sets of two down each side and gold embroidery decorated the sleeve cuffs. His Hardee hat was adorned with an eagle plume and gold-tasseled epaulets broadened his shoulders. At his waist was a gold sash tied under his belt.
"Is everybody to home?" Roy Coffee asked, crooking his neck to look inside the door. He didn't smile and seemed uneasy.
"Sure, Roy-even Hop Sing's home. Come on in." Hoss ushered Roy and the two guests inside. The rest of the Cartwrights left the table, Adam, reluctantly. The twowell-dressed strangers remained silent.
"Well," Ben said, feeling awkward and wondering why Roy had brought the men, "are you going to introduce us?"
"Oh, of course. Ben, this is…" Roy started to introduce the men but was cut off.
"I'm Lew Kelley and this is General Armbruster. Nice to meet you, Mr. Cartwright." Ben shook hands with Kelley but the general didn't offer his gloved hand. Ben's sons stood off, not proffering their hands, Hoss and Joe merely nodding when Ben introduced them.
"Please, come sit down." Ben ushered the men in. Roy sat at the far end of the settee and the two men sat beside him. They removed their hats, placing them on their laps, and Kelley put his attaché at his feet. "How about some coffee? Roy? Mr. Kelley? General? Or perhaps some of my best brandy?" Ben smiled although he was sure the General's presence was due to Adam. It worried him, but hospitality was expected and it never hurt to be gracious.
"How about a little coffee with a big dollop of brandy?" Roy said, smiling as he took off his hat. "Always a good combination." The two men said nothing but General Armbruster stared at Adam; he seemed to know who he was.
Ben told Hop Sing who was removing the dinner dishes slowly so he could hear the conversation, to bring out coffee for all. Then Ben went to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of cognac. "Now, this is a wonderful brandy from France. Courvoisier. Heard it was Napoléon's favorite." He placed it on the table and sat in his favorite chair.
Hoss stood, hands in pockets, waiting and Joe sat on the corner of the low square table in front of the fire. Adam had yet to sit, leaning with one elbow on the mantle. He didn't know why the general was there but decided he wasn't going to stay around to find out.
"Well," Adam said, nodding to the guests, "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go upstairs. Goodnight." He noticed the man called Kelley, quickly looked at the general who stood up straight, having placed his plumed hat on the low table.
"Captain Cartwright, do you not know protocol when a higher-ranking officer is in your presence? Atten-hut, soldier!"
Adam felt his body start to respond, it was so ingrained. His shoulders strove to pull back, lengthening his spine, arms at his sides, his gaze straight ahead, his chin at a sharp angle. But he stopped himself.
"You can kiss my ass, General."
The general strode quickly to Adam and faced him. "You could be taken out and shot for such gross insubordination!"
Ben tried to intervene, rising quickly and approaching the two of them. "Now, General, this is the Ponderosa, our home. You can't expect Adam…" Adam and the general locked eyes; Ben knew that being on the Ponderosa meant nothing – these were not ordinary visitors. "I mean, I don't know that…"
Mr. Kelley also rose. "Mr. Cartwright, could we discuss our business – in private please?" Hoss and Joe shuffled nervously, looking at one another.
Hop Sing carried in a tray holding a silver coffee set with enough cups and saucers stacked on it for everyone. He sat it on the low table, looking about. He noticed the air was full of tension. He mumbled under his breath as he returned to the kitchen, looking back once.
The general had stepped back but his anger was obvious. Adam slowly released his breath; he tried to control himself by crossing his arms across his chest but he couldn't keep his jaw muscles from working.
"We would like to talk to you, Mr. Cartwright, and Captain Cartwright alone." Lew Kelley spoke to Joe and Hoss in an ingratiating manner. "If you don't mind, gentlemen."
"I mind," Adam said. "State your business first and then I'll decide if I'm going to stay."
"Adam, I…" Ben said. "Hoss, Joe, see what you can do outside."
Joe looked flustered. "Outside? Pa. it's dark and…."
"Let's go, Joe." Hoss grabbed Joe by the arm and pulled him toward the door, grabbing up their holsters and slapping Joe's hat on his head before he pushed him out the door. Hoss grabbed his own hat off the rack and looking back, locked eyes with Adam. Hoss nodded to him and left the house.
Joe was furious. "We've just been thrown out of our own goddamn house! Who does that jackass Kelly think he is? And that general? Giving orders to Adam and…"
"Joe, Joe…settle down, boy. I don't know what they want but iffen they don't want us around, then piss on 'im. Let's saddle-up and go to town."
Joe's demeanor changed at the prospect. "Now that's a good idea but we'll have to ask permission to go back in our own house to fetch our money."
"I got a wallet full of cash and enough jingle in my pockets to keep them barmaids happy all night catchin' quarters. I bet I get at least six or seven down the front of Josie's dress." Hoss slung one large arm across Joe's shoulders, and as they were almost to the barn, they heard the kitchen door slam and the loud incomprehensible cursing of Hop Sing as he stomped across the yard.
"What's the fuss about, Hop Sing? Why you carryin'-on like a wet hen?"
"Yeah" Joe said, "what's got you so hot under the collar?"
"Humph! Humph! Humph! Mistah Ben, him tell me leave while men talk. Hop Sing in kitchen and hear that man, that Mistah Kelley. Him say…domestics…him call Hop Sing domestic. What is domestic?"
Hoss stumbled. "Well, Hop Sing, I guess a domestic is…"
"A domestic is someone who works in a house. You know, like a housekeeper or a maid or…a cook like you," Joe offered.
"It not bad?" Hop Sing asked, his eyes narrow.
"No, it's not bad. Now what'd he say after we left?"
"That Mistah Kelley, him say Hop Sing have to leave house, that domestics, they hear everything in house—they sneak around and listen. Then Mistah Ben, him come in and tell me leave house until Mistah Kelley, that man in fancy clothes, and Sheriff Roy finish business. Humph! Hop Sing want to wash dishes, clean kitchen but have to leave! Humph!"
"That's a real shame, Hop Sing. Guess you won't be able to hear what they say neither. Me and Joe's goin' to town. Wanna come with us? Might be a fantan game goin' on in the back of number six cousin's shop. I'll even stake you $10.00."
Hop Sing grinned from ear to ear. "Hop Sing like go to town. Visit number six cousin, maybe." Hop Sing, Joe and Hoss turned when they heard the front door open and close; Roy Coffee stood on the porch, frowning.
"Guess they kicked out Roy's ass too," Joe said, giggling. "Think he'll want to come with us? We have to be better company than those two he rode in with."
Hoss shook his head and chuckled, going in the barn to saddle up. "After you, Hop Sing," Joe said with an exaggerated flourish, and smiling, followed the domestic inside.
~ 0 ~
"Who the hell do you think you are kicking everyone out of the house? Just state what you want and leave?"
"Sit down, Captain," Kelley said.
"I don't much feel like sitting; that would suggest that I'm in for a long conversation. I'm also not a captain anymore."
"I'm Agent Lew Kelley, a Treasury agent." Kelley pulled out a thin, bi-fold wallet that held his identification. Adam studied it carefully before he handed it back but said nothing. General Armbruster had sat back down, still glaring at Adam. The coffee and brandy remained untouched.
"First, Mr. Cartwright, we checked your military background and you have clearance so we're allowing you to stay. But remember, this is an official investigation and is not to leave this room." Kelley looked at Adam who still stood. "The Treasury is investigating the possibility of stolen Confederate gold."
"What do I have to do with all this?" Adam asked. Then he laughed. "You don't think I have it?"
Agent Kelley and Armbruster exchanged glances. "No, no we don't. We have our suspicions as to who has it—have had for over a year but we, that is President Grant and Mr. Spinner, the Treasurer, have appointed me to find the gold and return it to the U.S. Treasury. I've been investigating and found that you were a captain in the Union Army and since you're in this area…"
Suddenly Adam knew. "You goddamn son-of-a-bitch. You wrote the 'anonymous' letter to my father about where I was. It was no army deserter."
"I didn't personally write it, but it was easier to have your family bring you back than for us to extradite you; Mexico had adopted a rather hostile attitude toward the United States as far as extradition. Now that the war is over, we suspect many military deserters are there but we were only interested in you."
Ben felt as if his world was collapsing and he was being buried underneath the ruins; had they come to take Adam away? His mind was running too slow, burdened by his own worry to follow the conversation.
"I've been exchanging telegrams with my superiors for the past three days, double checking your military record. You received many commendations, Captain. You should be proud." Adam said nothing. "I also interviewed Sheriff Coffee. I saw you visit his office the other day. You two seemed to be friendly. He vouched for you as honest and law-abiding, an 'upstanding young man' is how he put it."
"So you've been following me?"
"Of course."
"And Roy vouched for me." Adam was amused. Over the three years since the war ended, he had become a lazy, shiftless drunk. "Well, Mr. Kelley, you have the wrong man for whatever it is you have in mind. Find someone else to do your dirty work. Goodnight." Adam turned to leave.
Agent Kelley stood up again. "Captain Cartwright, you don't quite understand. It's is an order from the High Command that you work with us. It's not a request."
Adam faced Agent Kelley and General Armbruster whose expression had changed from smoldering fury to smugness; he had caught his quarry. "I'm not a captain anymore. I'm a civilian and finished with taking orders – from anyone." Adam's pulse thrummed; he hadn't been called "Captain" in such a long time and suddenly felt the full weight of his captaincy again. He knew he would have no choice but to do as they say, but he would hazard a bluff.
"That's not quite accurate, Captain," General Armbruster said. "You were never officially discharged. Actually, you're nothing more than a deserter, left your command after Appomattox. You're being impressed into active service again."
"And what if I refuse?"
"Then I'll have to arrest you. You'll be tried before a military tribunal and there's a very good chance, actually a promise, that you'll hang."
"Then hang me. Or maybe I'll save the military the trouble and do it myself." Adam started to move toward the stairs but Agent Kelley stopped him again.
"You should at least listen to what we have to say, Captain. I want to report I gave you every chance to comply before we had to take you into custody—or the General shoots you as a deserter right where you stand."
Ben stood up, harshly protesting. "Now wait a minute! You can't…I won't allow…"
"Pa, sit down." Adam's voice held authority and Ben meekly sat down; this was all beyond him and he suddenly felt very old. "All right," Adam said, "I'll listen. And then I'll refuse."
Agent Kelley unbuckled his attaché and pulled out a folder, placing it on the table. "This is a dossier on one retired Colonel Jarvis Mansfield—a brave man who led his regiment into many battles and survived. As you know, that's quite the accomplishment. You were a captain in his regiment, correct?"
Adam looked at his father who was obviously confused, then back to Kelley. "Yes."
"He owns quite a bit of acreage adjacent to the Ponderosa. Have you seen him?"
"No," Adam brusquely replied.
"Would you recognize him if you saw him?"
"More than likely."
"Well, we think it's he who has the 'appropriated' gold. Where he has it, is the issue as we have checked all the banks…"
A whirring buzz in Adam's head drowned out Agent Kelley's voice. He saw the man's mouth move but heard nothing.
"What is this, Captain? And where did this…this…."
"Buckboard, sir."
"I know what a goddamn buckboard is, Captain, but this one is filled with farm equipment. Are you taking up farming in your free time?" The colonel partially pulled back a canvas that covered the items. "Since when do we confiscate… what is this…a plow, a shovel, hammer and a few sacks of grain…"
"It's the gold shipment you sent me after, sir."
"The gold? Our intelligence said it was arriving by train."
"Yes, sir, but that made no sense to me. We've been stopping trains for weeks now, Sherman's destroyed miles of track, so I deduced it would make more sense and have a greater chance of being successful to transport the gold by another means, more than likely disguised as something else. Especially if the information about it coming by train was intentionally leaked."
"You deduced. Who the hell do you think you are, Captain, to 'deduce'. Let me understand: you just decided on your own to intercept wagons instead of following my orders."
"My orders were to seize the gold, sir, and I did so."
Colonel Mansfield stared at the captain before him. Seemed he had had some doings with the man before. There was something about the eyes…but there were so many men in his regiment, many he'd never seen and would never see. Mansfield pulled the canvas further back and a small trunk sat with its brass hinges intact. The lock had already been broken. "You counted it?"
"No, sir. Just confirmed that it was the gold." Adam stood solemnly by the wagon. Lying next to the trunk was the corpse of one of the three men who had accompanied him, Sergeant Aloysius Rowe.
"Well, old Jeff Davis was counting on this gold and I 'deduce' he'll be disappointed." The Colonel chuckled and then looked at the body. "Was he a good man?"
"Yes, Colonel, he was."
"You kill who shot him?"
"We had no choice, sir."
"You seem regretful, Captain."
"Yes, sir. I take no pleasure in killing a man."
"Not even stinking Johnny Rebs?"
Adam paused. The two men driving the wagon had been dressed as ordinary farmers but there was something about their eyes, the way their gaze slid away from him and to each other. One man seemed extremely nervous; sweat rolled down the sides of his face. Adam gave the order for two of his men to search the wagon and that was when a rifle and a side arm were pulled and Sergeant Rowe was shot. And the two southerners as well. Adam had taken the time to bury them: "We won't leave them to be torn apart by animals. They may be the enemy but they're still men."
"No, sir. Not even 'stinking Johnny Rebs'." Adam couldn't keep the edge of disdain from his voice.
"Captain, soldiers have no room for sympathy. Your job is to follow orders. Your job is to kill the enemy—as many as you can while managing to stay alive yourself. Now, have two men bring the gold to my tent. I'll see to its destination." Mansfield smiled as he gazed at the trunk. "Heard Jeff Davis wanted the gold to take to Cedar Key, leaving the Confederacy high and dry. And take this wagon to the quartermaster; I'm sure he can use it and the two horses as well. They're thin but we can use them. Then you can bury the sergeant. As his captain, you'll write his family, of course."
"Yes, sir, I will."
"Good. Good job, Captain – but next time follow orders exactly as they are given or there will be dire consequences. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
The colonel turned on his heel and slowly strode back to his tent.
Adan stared at the body of Sergeant Rowe, a man who liked to laugh and often regaled the other men with rude jokes and stories about his rough childhood in the hills of Montana. On calm evenings, he pulled out his French harp and played tunes, some so sad and tender Adam had to turn away. Others were so bright and sprightly, many of the men would get up and dance, moving their feet in the shuffling steps they had learned from their grandfathers. Often, the soldiers danced with each other while the rest of them sat, hooting, clapping, laughing and making jokes.
As far as Adam knew, Rowe's father was still alive. He decided to go through the sergeant's effects and send them to his father, especially the French harp; there had been at least two letters from the man since the war had started. Adam wondered if someone would do the same for him should he become one of the fallen. Also, how would his father take the news?
"Captain?"
Adam snapped back to the present, looking at Kelley.
"As I said, here's his dossier. We'll contact you periodically. Do you understand what is required? You are to find out if Mansfield has the gold and if he does, where it is. Then you are to confiscate it as quietly as possible. You have permission to kill Mansfield or any of his cohorts with impunity. But amnesty will be given only after this mission is completed-successfully."
Kelley and Armbruster waited. Ben barely breathed, staring at Adam.
"I've killed enough men for you," Adam said.
The two men stood and Armbruster said, "Then one more won't matter."
Adam considered refusing, telling them to go to hell. Should they take him into custody, he considered if he should resist or just go along peaceably and let life do to him what it would.
Kelley said, as he put on his hat and picked up his attaché, "You understand, Mr. Cartwright, Captain, that this is not to be discussed or revealed to anyone, including the sheriff. Consequences would be swift and harsh. We can expropriate property. After all, there is a railroad coming and you might be reluctant to sell this Ponderosa…can't you just see how it would better serve the government?" He smiled. "We'll let ourselves out."
Ben let out a deep breath as the door closed behind them. Adam still stood, considering what had transpired.
"Well, I…Adam, that might explain how Mansfield…what are you doing?" Adam had retrieved the dossier and tossed it in the fire. "That's an important document that…"
Adam picked up the bottle of French brandy and held it by the neck. "I won't discuss this, Pa. It's my business, not Ponderosa business, so not your business. You won't lose the Ponderosa; I'll make sure of it, but I'm through with killing and I sure as hell am finished with subterfuge—and the army." But even as Adam said it, he knew it wasn't true; he would be forced to do something, couldn't just remain in the middle like Burdian's ass, and "starve".
Adam took to the stairs, expecting to hear his father call him back but he didn't. The front door opened and Roy's voice exploded in the air. "Ben, what the hell was that all about? Them two just rode away without so much as a 'kiss my ass'. And I sure could use that coffee and brandy right now if you're still offerin'." Adam closed his bedroom door, trying not to think of the conversation with Kelley and Armbruster, or the war, or Mansfield, or Carmelita, or Milagro, or all the other unhappiness of the past few years. But he knew they would all visit him in his dreams like unwanted relatives who overstay their welcome.
