Man of Justice Chapter Twelve
"Whoa!" Jacob called out. It wasn't yet dark, but soon would be. He and the families with him would have to stop for the night. He started to climb down from his wagon, when his wife, Rose put her hand on his shoulder. "What is it?" He looked at her with a confused expression upon his face.
Rose wasn't sure her husband would answer the question that had been pestering her ever since the Modoc braves had ridden away. Still, her intuition said she had to ask it anyway. Having bought into her husband's lies, she asked, "You said you were told the Modoc were all on reservations; that they would not be in a position to give us any trouble. If that is the case, what where did those men come from and what do did do they want from us?" She paused and then made a guess before her husband could answer, "They want us off their land don't they?" She just knew they did. Jacob didn't want to answer; he was nervous as it was. His Modoc friend, whose name basically meant Horse Breaker, and the braves with him had showed up later than expected and then demanded to know if what they'd heard was true; that he was helping the Klamath people. Jacob acted truly shocked and denied it all. He'd had to talk himself blue in the face to get Breaker of Horses to accept the fact that what the Indian had heard was lies and not the gospel truth.
Jacob took his wife's hand off his arm. "Obviously, they are not on any reservation. As far as what they want? They don't want us moving as slow as we did today. I told them there was nothing I could do if we continued to have problems, but that we'd move as quickly as we could." That seemed so appease her, and he went on about his nightly business.
Matthew watched and listened as Jacob finished talking to his wife and then asked Jarrod to fetch some water from a nearby stream. Afterwards he made his way to the man he'd chosen to work with, once Jarrod had grabbed a pail and was well out of sight. Unhappy with the earlier events of the day and the fact he'd been left out of the talks with the Modoc braves, Matthew confronted Jacob. "Horse Breaker and his men were late getting here to give us their assurance that they'd not be bothering us. What was the hold up, and what did they say?"
For a moment Jacob did not speak. He couldn't. His Modoc friend's words were ringing in his ears. "I will take your word that you are not helping the Klamath for now. However, if I find out different, my friends and I will attack your wagon train and take what we want." After a few moments Matthew cleared his throat, expecting an answer.
Jacob surveyed the area for any eavesdroppers before he answered. "Horse Breaker is growin' uneasy. He's tiring our trips through 'his country'. Best keep your gun loaded tonight and tell the other men to do the same. Who knows what they'll do next; they're as skittish as a new born colt."
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Tom pushed his horse hard; he had to. He had to get to Jarrod and get him before anything happened to him. The Marshall and the other men with him rode in the direction Jacob had taken the wagons, it was as if the horse's hooves beating against the hard ground below them seemed to repeating the word 'hurry' over and over again with each thump of his fearful heartbeat. It did not help Tom's mood any. Why had he not taken time to check out things for himself? Why had he merely taken Jacob's word? Why hadn't he listened to McCall? Oh, his head knew the answer, but his heart had been betrayed, and he felt that betrayal deep down in his soul.
Jim, who rode to the right of Tom, felt horrible for his boss. No one should have to ride this hard in the hope they'd find their son alive and okay. Truth be told, he did more than feel horrible; he felt genuine empathy. Just before starting to work for the Barkleys he'd had to go off in search of his own son, who had strayed from their small homestead. Thankfully, they'd found him okay, but the hours they looked for him were maddening and frightening. "You gonna be okay, boss? Shouldn't we take at least a short rest? These horses are gonna to be too worn out to go anywhere soon." He turned his head slightly and asked.
Tom didn't answer at first. He was too busy keeping the pace and rhythm, riding and continually moving his eyes from one side to another, in hopes of catching sight of the wagon train. It kept him focused and calm. "I suppose you're…" he started to answer when the Marshall, to his left, pointed off into distance and cried out, "Look! Over there!" Tom's heart stopped. Off to the left of the horizon, he could see over turned wagons, some of them were burning and a few adults and children walking around. Because he and the others were too far away to see who the victims of an apparent attack were, he, the Marshall, Jim and the others pushed their horses faster and harder.
Jacob was leaning up against his wagon, wounded, staring in disbelief at the sight that lay before his eyes when the riders rode into camp. The few survivors, which included the Widow Miller and her children, were doing the same. Though, they were either standing or walking around in morbid silence. The Modoc braves had found them the very next day and attacked the wagon train. How had they found out the truth so fast? Jacob wondered. He had hoped to at least get to the next town, come up with some excuse to put these people with another group and put Jarrod onto a stagecoach a bit sooner than he'd planned on. Now, all he could do was to stare at the destruction that lay in front of his eyes. He was surprised that any of them had survived. When he heard the riders, Jacob turned his head in their direction. His eyes widened in horror to see Tom Barkley heading straight for him. What was he doing here? His face also paled when he saw the US Marshall with him, along with their obvious posse. How had the law found out what he was doing? Jacob wanted to hide or run, to get away; but, all he could do was sit where he was, immobile and speechless, as Tom Barkley jumped off his horse and made his way to him.
Kneeling down beside Jacob, Tom put his face within inches of Jacob's. His eyes shot cannonballs at the man he would no longer call a friend and his voice threw ice out with each word he spoke. His voice carried through the air as he bellowed, "Where's my son!" Jacob looked into the hard glare in Tom Barkley's eyes. Out of the want to save a few measly dollars, he'd brought an innocent young boy into an area he never should have been in. And now? Jacob tried to speak but failed, unable to get the words to come out of his mouth. It was the Widow Miller who spoke up, answering Tom's question. When she spoke her words sent chills down Tom's back. "The Modoc took him."
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"The Modoc were nomadic hunters and gatherers, surviving on fish, game, seeds, roots, and berries. By weaving together tule reeds they made a variety of their needs including fishing rafts, baskets, moccasins, and summer huts. In the winter they made their homes in earthen dug-out lodges.
Though they spoke virtually the same language as the Klamath tribe and often intermarried with them, they also had a number of conflicts with them." (That is an exact quote from a website I found. I had the link saved only, somehow, I lost it. and the last words were not bolded.)
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The Modoc are a Native American people who originally lived in the area which is now northeastern California and central Southern Oregon. They are currently divided between Oregon and Oklahoma. The latter are a federally recognized tribe, the Modoc Tribe of Oklahoma. The Oregon Modoc are enrolled in the federally recognized Klamath Tribes.[1] Modoc Plateau, Modoc National Forest, Modoc County, California; Modoc, Indiana; and numerous other places are named after this group of people.