Scream of Eagles (23 page)

The men provisioned up and headed south and slightly west, happy to be together again. As they rode, the older men looked through wise eyes at the progress that was steadily pushing westward in the form of pioneers.

“Damn haybinders.” Logan cussed the homesteaders that seemed to be springing up all over the place.

“Wait until that new barbed wire gets out here,” Jamie told the group as they were settling into camp for the evening. “Then you'll really see progress at its worst.”

“What kind of wire?” Canby asked.

“Man back in Illinois, I think it is, has invented a new kind of wire. It has little bitty sharp spikes on it that'll cut you if you touch it. Calls it barbed wire. It's for keeping cattle in the fields.”

“What happens if a human bein' rubs up agin it?” Logan asked.

“Same thing. You get cut.”

“That's nasty,” Red remarked. “They ought not to allow stuff like that to be sold.”

“You can bet the damn haybinders will be stringin' it all over the place,” Logan said. “Course, in a way you can't blame 'em. They're tryin' to get by just like the cattlemen.”

They pushed on, riding by the ruins of Bent's Fort in southeastern Colorado.

“It was some place in its day,” Logan said wistfully.

“That it was,” Jamie agreed.

The fort was built in 1833 by the Bent brothers, Charles and William, and it was a magnificent structure. The walls were fourteen feet high and three feet thick. Inside, there was lodging for up to two hundred men at a time. Bent's Fort was an oasis of civilization in the midst of the wilderness, where Indian and white could mingle without trouble. The fort had an icehouse, storerooms, a huge dining hall, a carpenter's shop, a tailor shop, and a blacksmith's shop. The fort's cook, Charlotte Green, was a lady of color, and she laid out a table of food that was unsurpassed anywhere between St. Louis and California. Charlotte used to say that she was “the only lady in the whole damn Injun country.”

In late 1849, his brother Charles dead, William Bent, irritated at the government's refusal to give him a fair price for the fort, blew it up.

Jamie and the others rode on, crossing into Oklahoma Territory and then into Texas. They camped at the ruins of Adobe Walls, where, some months back, twenty-nine buffalo hunters and one woman held off nearly eight hundred Kiowa, Comanche, Cheyenne, and Arapaho warriors under the command of Quanah Parker and Lone Wolf. It was at Adobe Walls that Billy Dixon made his famous shot with a Sharps .50 caliber rifle, shooting an Indian off his horse at a range of almost one mile. The Indians were so shocked at the accuracy of the rapid-fire Sharps rifles, they finally withdrew. Among the defenders at the Walls was Bat Masterson.
²⁴

Shortly after the siege at Adobe Walls, the Red River Indian wars came to a close, as hundreds of Kiowa and Comanche warriors surrendered to the army. Over seventy warrior chiefs were placed in irons and transported to a military prison in Florida. The Indian wars on the North Texas plains were just about over.

Now the riders headed straight south, through the bitter cold and blowing snow of the North Texas winter, a blue norther that came howling down from Canada, gathering strength as it slammed over the great plains. They were running out of supplies and half-frozen when they spotted the outline of a trading post, seemingly sitting smack in the middle of nowhere.

“Is that for real or is this hell?” Red asked.

“Hell's hot,” Canby corrected.

“I'd settle in for about twenty minutes of it,” Logan said.

The men stabled their horses out of the wind and saw to the animals' comfort and then walked into the long, low building.

“Come a fur piece, did you?” the man behind the counter asked.

“What happened to summer?” Rick asked.

The counterman laughed. “When it gets here, you'll be wishin' it was winter agin. Trouble with this country is there ain't no middle ground. It's either hot or cold. I got coffee and beef and beans, boys.”

“Pour it in and dish it up,” Jamie told him.

“Whiskey furst,” Logan said. “My innards is froze solid.”

The chill slowly leaving their bodies, the men sat down at a table to eat and drink.

“Where you boys headin'?”

“Eagle Pass,” Canby told him.

The man shook his head. “Maverick County. That's bad country, boys. Even this fur north of there I can tell you that's King Fisher's country.”

“Who the hell is King Fisher?” Logan asked around a mouthful of food.

“Started out as a gunslick and a rustler. Now he calls hisself a rancher. He's a bad one. The King runs that county. Now I hear he's thrown in with some bad ol' boys name of Kermit.”

“Is that a fact?” Rick said.

“Shore is. Was I you boys, I'd fight shy of that area.”

“One thing about it,” Canby said, “it'll be a damn sight warmer down there than it is here.”

“You do have a point, but fired lead's hotter than ice, too.”

* * *

Since his initial run-in with the Kermit brothers and kin, some time back, Rick had grown a handlebar mustache and had fleshed out some due to eating regular.

“They might not recognize me right off,” he told his compadres when they finally reached the outskirts of Eagle Pass. “But it'll come to them sooner or later.”

“Damn shore warmer down here than up north,” Logan said. “My bones is finally thawin' out. I might just decide to live out the rest of my days down here.”

“We might not none of us have no choice in the matter,” Red said with a grin. “We might all get
planted
down here.”

“You are such a joy to have along,” Canby said. “Just full of good cheer and such.”

“I just wonder if this King Fisher character is goin' to pitch in with the Kermit boys,” Red mused aloud.

“We'll know soon enough,” Jamie said, pointing to a road sign that read EAGLE PASS TEN MILES.

“I hope they got a good cafe in town,” Logan said. “I'm right hongry.”

The others laughed, Jamie saying, “Logan, I've never known you when you weren't hungry!”

In the small border town, the men stabled their horses and then found rooms. After cleaning up, they went looking for a cafe and had an early supper. After eating, they sat on benches in front of the general store and smoked and eyeballed the few riders that came in.

If there was any local lawman, he was either home for the evening or gone out of town, for no badge toter came near them.

“I think I'll amble over to that whiskey shop acrost the street,” Logan said, standing up. “Keep my ears open and see what I can pick up. I'll be back.”

Jamie opened his watch and checked the time. It was a few minutes before five o'clock on this late winter's day and the light was fast fading. Logan returned after a short time and took a seat.

“This King Fisher person is out of the country, I believe. But the Kermit brothers come into town most evenin's to have supper. They're usually at the saloon over yonder by five-thirty, and they'll drink for about an hour and then eat. They have thrown in with Fisher, and from what I could overhear, Fisher has this town buffaloed. Not just the town, but the whole damn county and a lot of the surroundin' area. What law there is around here is in Fisher's pocket.”

“How many Kermits are there?” Red asked.

“Eight brothers and a whole bunch of cousins and nephews and what have you,” Rick answered. “And they're all big and mean and good with a gun.”

“Sounds to me like these Kermits plan on hornin' in on Fisher's play,” Canby said.

Jamie nodded his head in the gathering darkness. “Shapes up that way, doesn't it?”
²⁵

“Too bad we can't just wait around for them to kill off each other,” Red opined.

“No time left to worry about that,” Jamie said, cutting his eyes to the far end of the street. “I believe those are the Kermit brothers and kin riding in now.”

“Jesus me!” Canby said in mock horror. “Looks like about two dozen of them.”

“Plenty to go around, for shore,” Logan replied, after spitting a brown stream of tobacco juice into the street.

“I believe I'm gonna see the elephant this night,” Red Green suddenly announced.

The others looked at him.

“But I couldn't check out with no better friends around me,” Red added.

“What brought all that on?” Canby asked.

“Just a feelin', that's all. But a damn strong one.”

“Probably indigestion,” Logan told him. “You ate about ten pounds of beef.”

But Red shook his head. “Nope. Tonight's the end for me.” He looked at Rick. “My gold's yours, boy. Take it and buy yourself a spread somewhere. Make somethin' out of yourself. You're young; you got plenty of time to do that.”

“I wish you'd quit talkin' like that,” Rick told the older man. “We got plenty of trails to ride yet.”

Red stared at the thirty or so riders as they rode up and swung down from their saddles. “This is track's end for me. You know what I'm talkin' about, don't you, Jamie?”

Jamie nodded his head in the darkness. “I know,” he spoke softly, just as the owner of the store came out and lit the twin lamps out front.

“I could have done without that,” Jamie whispered, as the lamplight outlined them clearly on the benches.

“You really believe you're gonna cash in your chips tonight, Red?” Canby asked.

“Yes. And I ain't a-feared of it. All I want is a nice box and a headstone. I'm trustin' you boys to do me right.”

“You know we will,” Logan said.

“And you can dance all around my grave,” Red said with a smile. “But not on it.” Red lifted his eyes to the crowd across the street. “They sure are givin' us the once-over, ain't they?”

“Yeah,” Rick said. “I think they recognize me. The one standing and starin' right at us is Percy Kermit. He's the oldest of the clan. Surroundin' him is his brothers, Claude, Zeb, Zeke, Samuel, Calhoun, Temple, and Isham.”

“You know any of the others?” Logan asked.

“A few of their names. The fat one is called Fat Phil. The twins on the right is Dunk and Dink. Next to them is Abijah and Skinny.”

The mob of Kermits and kin suddenly turned and went into the saloon.

“We better go fetch our spare pistols,” Red said, standing up. “This here shoot-out is gonna be a dandy one.”

The men walked back to the small hotel, opened their bedrolls and saddlebags and dug through their possibles, laying aside their spare pistols. They carefully cleaned the guns and loaded them up full, stuffing their pockets with spare cartridges.

“Don't make my tombstone nothin' fancy now, you hear?” Red said, as the men walked out of the hotel.

“I swear to God I'm gonna hit you on the head and tie you to a hitch rail if you don't hush that kind of talk,” Canby told him.

“I've played out my string,” Red said stubbornly. “A man knows when it's time. Y'all just heed my wishes now, you hear?”

“I seen one oncet had fat little angels dancin' on it,” Logan said.

“I don't want nothin' like that. Just my name and the date I passed.”

“When was you born?” Canby asked.

“Hell, I don't know. I'm 'bout sixty-five years old, or thereabouts.”

“You're gonna live a good long time yet,” Rick said.

“Least another hour or so,” Red told him. “But by God I'm gonna go out with a smoke pole in each hand, and I'll take some of them damn Kermits with me.”

Rick looked at him and shook his head. He glanced at Jamie. “Mr. Mac, did you ever get one of them feelin's like Red's got?”

“No. But I have known men who did.”

“What happened to them?”

“They died shortly thereafter.”

“Told you,” Red said with a faint smile.

Two men stepped out of the alley and blocked the walkway. One of them held up a hand. “I be Abijah Kermit and this here is my nephew, Thalis. If you men has thrown in your lot with that filthy wife-stealin', rapin', no-good fornicator Hanes, then you can die with him come the morning. We'll meet you all at the livery. Good night.”

“I ain't no fornicator!” Rick yelled. “And I didn't rape nobody. That damn woman chased after me, not the other way around.”

“You lie,” Thalis said.

“You damn Bible-spoutin' hypocrites! You go right straight to hell!” Rick told them both.

“You'll feel the heat from the pits and the sting of the devil's pitchfork long before us,” Abijah said.

“We'll see you all at dawn. Make your peace,” Thalis said.

“That works both ways,” Jamie said softly.

The two men stared at him for a moment, then turned around and stalked off, with Rick giving them both a sound cussing. The men disappeared into the darkness.

Logan looked at Rick. “Boy, have you been fornicatin' when we wasn't lookin'?”

“Not lately,” Rick said.

“I'm glad I ain't been,” Red said. “I'd hate to go meet my Maker with Him knowin' I'd just been a-fornicatin' somethin' fierce.”

“Boys,” Jamie said, “does anybody here really want to wait 'til dawn to open this dance?”

The returning smiles told him they did not.

“Well, let's go see what kind of a tune we can play this evening.”