Dark Journey Home (52 page)

Colonel Winters spoke to a tough older sergeant, who
had been standing a ways behind, with a puzzled expression on his face. 
“Sergeant, why do they insist on sending me these ‘green as the desert cactus’
peacocks right out of military school?  They want me to train them?  Before
sending them out on their own with a canteen and a rifle?”

“I don’t know, sir?”  The sergeant scratched his head,
then pulled his cap back on.  “It could be they know you’ll give good tough
training to the ‘little ones’.”  The sergeant chuckled at his own humor.  Then
added, “You want me to trail along a ways behind, to wipe the kid’s nose when
he needs it?” 

The Colonel laughed, as the sergeant hid a smile, both
knowing that Lieutenant Harrigan had been eyeing the young daughter of an older
military officer, who had been stationed at the fort for several years, and had
his family living there.  This trip would certainly put a halt to any budding
romance for the young officer, in that respect.  The Lieutenant considered
himself to be quite a ladies’ man, and Colonel Winters intended to prove once
and for all just what his duties on this western frontier were. 

“I was thinking in that respect, Sergeant.  You are
the best tracker in my troop, and in case the Lieutenant gets himself lost, it
wouldn’t hurt for you to trail a ways behind him.  Also I need someone who will
give an honest report of what goes on along the trail.  You can join up with
them after a few miles.  I’ll give you written orders for him to return here,
only after he has reached the outskirts of Buffalo.  I believe some of the
passengers will have left the stage before then anyway, some taking a cutoff,
shortening their journey somewhat.  Just be sure and head back before the snow
begins.” 

The sergeant nodded, saluted, and headed off to the
corral to saddle his horse.  He looked forward to getting away from the fort for
a change.  Just himself, his horse, and a packhorse with extra supplies.  If
they run into bad weather, they will be needing all those supplies.  He knew
the young Lieutenant wouldn’t have thought of such a bother.

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The small settlement and Trading Post of Comfort,
Wyoming, had been run by Silas Comfort for the last six years, ever since the
previous owner, and founder of the post, had retired to Boot Hill with the
compliments of an outlaw gang that had quickly been run out of the settlement
by a few tougher outlaws who had liked the jolly old founder of the town, which
at that time was called ‘Devil’s Rest’.  The tougher outlaws had resented the atmosphere
the newcomers had created, along with higher prices charged for the drinks. 

Silas Comfort was soon elected to take over the
ownership of the Post, along with the title of Mayor of the small town.  As
middle age had, long before, caught up with him, then quickly passed by, he
immediately retired from a somewhat shady profession, and decided on the spur
of the moment, to make an honest man of himself.  Quickly changing the
unpopular name of the place, to his own last name, ‘Comfort’.  Silas settled in
to a ‘Comfort’able position, running the Trading Post, with only one employee
to help keep the place in fairly good working order.  He’d written a letter to
a wife he’d had years before, and who was, when last heard from, living in Denver.  He also had a son there, maybe in his teens by now.  He’d not heard back from the
wife, but hadn’t really expected to.

Silas had never been sure just how he had acquired the
last name of Comfort, figuring he’d picked it up somewhere between toddler age,
and then the process of growing up on the back of an old nag horse, but no
matter, the name was just as good as any other, so the handle had stuck, and it
seemed an appropriate name for small settlement in the middle of no man’s
land.  The only other town near was called Freeman, about a stone’s throw away,
plus ten miles.      

Now the aging Silas was a balding, likeable, though
tough, old character, with eyes black as the ace of spades, and never missing a
thing.  He toted a thick grey handle-bar mustache and his only partner was a Winchester, which many claimed hit what it was aimed at no matter who handled it, though
most of the older ones knew better.  Two well-oiled old navy colts were close
at hand, under the bar and out of sight. 

Silas Comfort leaned back in his favorite chair near
the bar facing the door.  A chill was in the air, and he knew that they’d be
snowed in soon.  Well, the place was loaded down with enough supplies to last
out the cold months.  A huge stack of wood, needed for the large fireplace and
one pot bellied stove, filled up a lean-to in back of the place. 

A checkerboard, Silas’s favorite game, was in place on
a rickety table in front of him.  He motioned to his employee, a half-breed
from Arizona named Carlos, to put down his broom and throw another log onto the
dwindling fire in the fireplace, as well as one into the stove, then sit down
for a game of checkers.  A few customers were playing poker, but he didn’t like
the game; only provided a place for those who did.  Checkers was his only
sport, next to the Winchester, that is.

The days on the trail had begun to shorten, as the air
turned brisk and cold.  Logan touched his heels to his horse’s sides, and
trotted up to ride next to Claude.  “Could I speak to you a moment, sir?”  He
called over to Lord Beckford. 

“Of course, Logan.  You needn’t ask.  However, when
you refer to me as ‘sir’, you make me feel like a ‘knight’.”  Claude chuckled. 
“Please continue to call me Claude, my name, you know.” 

“A knight?  S……..sorry…….habit, I suppose.  Claude it
is then.”  Logan relaxed in the saddle as they slowed their horses even more. 

When they were a short distance behind the screeching
wheels of the stage, Logan began, “I’ll get right to the point, Claude.”  Steam
escaped from his mouth as the frigid air mixed with his breath, and he
continued, “A few more days and we’ll arrive in a small town, a stage stop and
trading post, called ‘Comfort’.  Pa wrote and told me they had changed the name
of the place from ‘Devil’s Rest’ to ‘Comfort’.  The name doesn’t matter much
anyway, but that’s where we’ll leave this stage to take a shorter route to
Freeman, the town nearest Pa’s ranch. 

“This stage we’re on will go on to Buffalo, further
west.  We’ll either hire a buggy, or wagon, at Comfort to take the shorter
route, unless there’s still a stage line running out of Comfort.  Used to be
one, but not sure if it is still in operation.  It hauled passengers and mail
up to Freeman, then from there on a bit further north.  I guess we’ll see when
we get there” Logan pulled his fur lined collar up closer around his ears.

Claude nodded, his breath showing the frosty air also,
and he pulled his hat lower, adjusted his fur lined collar, then said,
“Whatever will shorten the trip, Logan.  I’m game, and still having the time of
my life.  Just hope the women are warm enough.” 

“Glad you understand, though I feel maybe it was wrong
of me to push you folks into this unpredictable weather.  For myself, I always
loved the changing seasons, even the blizzards.”  Logan gave a laugh here, “I
just thought maybe it would be a hard winter for you and the ladies.”  He
pondered, “We’ll be snowed in at the ranch, you know.” 

“Nonsense, Logan.  We’re hardy folks, and have been in
cold weather and snow before.”  Claude chuckled again, “I believe Olivia and
Amelia wouldn’t have it any different, and if they ever get back to London, they wouldn’t change the memory of this excursion for all the tea in China.” 

“You think you all will be going back to England soon then?”  Logan asked hesitantly. 

“As for me, son……..and Amelia, who is now my wife, of
course we may eventually return, but I believe I’ll stay at the ‘Triple-B’ for
awhile.  When we return in the spring, that is.  As for my niece, Olivia, well
I’m not sure, but I feel she just may decide that she has some sort of a future
here in this new land.”  Claude turned to give Logan a look, with one eyebrow
raised, questioningly. 

Logan
flushed,
and was quiet a few moments, then quickly changed the subject, saying, “I’m
betting that the town of Comfort has grown some, and still would have a stage
line.  The last time I went through there, the place was so small, that if you
blinked, you’d ride on by without seeing it.  But there was, at that time,
always a pot of hot stew kept on the fire for any weary traveler, along with
feed for your horse and a bed for the night.  The old timer, who started the
place, was a right nice fella, jolly and friendly.  Wonder what happened to
him.”  Logan finished, and then was silent. 

“When we get there, we’ll be ready to stop, Logan.  From what the driver said, we’ll have snow any day now.”  Claude offered.

Logan
assured, “I
wouldn’t worry too much, Claude.  Yes, it’s a frosty wind, but I’ve seen it
like this before in this part of the country.  Sometimes we have a couple weeks
before bad weather really sets in.” 

“I’ve been in blizzards before, Logan, and I’m still
here, and going strong.  We’ll make it to your pa’s place, and have time to
spare.  Nothing could stop this from being the adventure of a lifetime.” 
Claude chuckled again. “Maybe we should continue this conversation another
day.  I believe we’ve lagged quite a ways behind the stage, and it seems they
are pulling into some sort of settlement, to change the team.”

“Right you are, Claude.  Hope they’re serving some hot
food too, up there ahead.”

Just then, they heard hoof beats far back on the
trail.  Looking back, they saw a small troop of soldiers, quite a ways in the
distance, but definitely trailing the stage.  Logan couldn’t make out who was
in the lead, but from the way the Lieutenant proudly sat his horse, he could
only guess who it was.  Logan scowled.  “Just what is that young pup up to?” 
He asked, as he continued scowling. 

Claude began chuckling softly to himself, then
murmured, “Now, this excursion is becoming more interesting by the moment.” 

Neither Logan nor Claude noticed the five riders, who
were riding down a distant hill, to pull up in a thick grove of trees, behind
the long weathered building of the stage stop. 

The frigid wind picked up, blowing hard against the
stagecoach, as it pulled to a screeching halt in front of the building.  Black
smoke poured from the stone chimney of the old building, and a young lad,
bundled up from head to toe, began unhitching the tired team.  The passengers
flung open the door of the stage, and began hurrying toward the building, and
the warmth inside. 

Logan
and Claude rode
up to the hitching rail, dismounted, tied the reins with a slipknot, then joined
the passengers, as they went inside the building. 

Beef and beans, along with homemade biscuits, was the
menu for the day, and everyone jokingly agreed that it was a daily menu, take
it or leave it.  They took it. 

Seated on benches, at a long rough-hewn wooden table,
the travelers were halfway through their meal, when they were startled by the
door suddenly opening.  Five dirty unshaven and rough appearing men burst into
the way station, bringing with them an icy chill, and causing the fire in the
fireplace to crackle, sending sparks into the air. 

Standing behind the bar, the ruddy-complexioned proprietor
of the place, eyed the newcomers, and said, “Howdy, folks.  Passin’ through?” 
The change in his tone of voice, gave Logan pause to sit up and take notice. 

He watched, as did the others at the table, as the
older one of the group answered slowly, “We never been known to pass through
anywheres special, so you just clam up, an’ pour us some vittles.  Me an’ my
boys are hungry enough to eat a bear.  An’ don’t get any big ideas either.”

“What do you mean by that?”  The barkeep asked
hesitantly. 

The stranger didn’t answer, only motioned to the
younger ruffians, who at once began piling onto a couple of benches at another
table. 

“I’ll get your food, folks, an’ welcome.”  The proprietor
began grabbing dishes from shelves behind the counter, glancing over his
shoulder nervously, in the process. 

Logan
looked over at
Olivia, and noticed she was looking down at her plate, eating slowly with a
slight flush to her cheeks.  Glancing back at the group at the other table, he
noticed a silly grin on the faces of the younger men.  They were all four
staring right at Olivia.  Logan felt a slow rage starting deep inside, as he
half raised from his seat, then caught himself.  With the womenfolks close by,
this wouldn’t be the proper time to start a ruckus.  He held in his anger, and
glanced over at Olivia’s uncle.