Yankton

Chapter 45

Chapter 45 Another Sidney Run

Eventually, Narcissa and I did become friends, and she could really run a game. She was also determined to discover the secret shared between the four of us, only Montana, Melonie, and Jake, really knew the full story. Everyone else either thought they knew, or only knew bits and pieces. From the things that got back to me, I think she thought we were sitting on a big stash of gold, or knew where there was a big vein. I had told her to keep her ears open, but I'm afraid she only caught pieces of conversation, and drew the wrong conclusions.

When Mark returned, he told me that O'Rourke had another gold shipment ready to go, and that he would go with me this time.

"Colin is out of danger," he explained, with what we had to work with, it really amazes me, all I can say is that these people are tough as nails, we're too soft in 2014. I told him to start out by just walking around the property, get those lungs working, and build up his strength you no doubt saw Mrs. Doyle?" I nodded,

"She and her husband bought land just a little north of here, the guy plans to grow oats and wheat. He also has a small herd of horses he plans to expand, along with a dairy cow he traded for a horse. Oh, one thing, he's an ex-marine, yeah I know, but what are the odds of that? I didn't say anything, but sooner or later he's going to find out you were a marine as well, but that BS you were telling people about serving over in the Middle East, might not wash with him."

"It depends," I replied, maybe he spent a lot of time stateside, but then again, the marine corps in 1876 wasn't very big, even up to world war two it was pretty much a "club," everybody knew everybody else, yeah your right, guess I'd better start thinking about this.

So when do we report to O'Rourke?"

"Day after tomorrow, he's up in the gold camps right now getting his shipment together."

I introduced Mark to Caleb, with Mark commenting,

"You always did have a soft spot for kids, guess you and Montana better get married and get some of your own." I laughed, and shook my head, Well Montana and I are planning on doing that very thing, Montana can't have any more kids, so maybe Caleb will fill that order."

"Well he's certainly a cute little cuss," replied Mark, how's he getting along with the other two?"

"Great, so far, I think Inge is a year older than him, and Steinar is younger, so I guess we'll see."

I then asked Mark on his opinion of Narcissa, grimacing, he exclaimed,

"She sure hates us Yankees, I know she hates Mel, which has upset her, but I told Melonie to just keep her distance, time has a way of mellowing things out, and you know, sometimes things can change on a dime."

Colin certainly loved the blue Notre Dame "Fighting Irish" "hoodie" Melinda had ordered for him, he took to wearing as often as he could, until ordered to take it off for washing. Mel loved the gold earrings Melinda had gotten for her as well, with Mark promising to perform the ear piercing they required.

"These are genuine black hills gold Mel," I explained, "It seems only fitting you and Montana have something made from what all the ruckus is about."

"These are truly beautiful," replied Melonie, "Your sister is such a dear one for thinking of us."

"Well she's really getting her "act" together, she and Jake have a "thing" going now, but she told me that she's keeping her eye out for stuff for you and Montana."

"Well I'll be sure to thank her the next time she comes," said Melonie.

Once again, another night was spent saying goodbye to Montana, with the promise I'd keep myself safe. Mark and I left very early in the morning for O'Rourke's place, to begin the long journey south to Sidney Nebraska, and the railroad. On a last minute whim, I told O'Rourke,

"I've always wanted to ride on the transcontinental railroad, someone told me they have cars you can load horses onto, I want to ride it to Cheyenne, then ride home from there."

O'Rourke thought we were crazy, but gave me the name of a man he knew in Cheyenne who could stake us to a wagon and a load of dry goods we could return with so he could sell them to the miners.

"There will be a tidy bonus it for you boys iffin you can to that for me. Oh and don't be pickin up no "bummers" despite all the hard luck stories they try and tell ya. They's always a bunch of sorry ass men lookin for free transportation up here to the gold fields, they done spent all they's poke on cards so jes pass 'em by." Mark and I always got a kick out of talking to him, one thing was certain; you just didn't come across guys like him in 2014.

As we were starting out of town, I heard a man hail Mark and I, it turned out to be sheriff Bullock accompanied by a sullen looking man who was cuffed to his saddle.

"Sherriff Bullock, what's happening?" He gave me a puzzled look, then replied,

"I heard Mr. O'Rourke was sending out another shipment to Sidney, I had a hunch you two would be taking it, looks like I guessed right…Mind if I ride along, got a prisoner I need to get to the railroad, he's wanted at the territorial prison over in Wyoming territory."

"You're more than welcome to join us sheriff," I said, "Once we finish our business in Sidney, we're putting our horses on the train and going to Cheyenne then returning home via Fort Laramie."

And so we fell in with the Deadwood legend working our way to the south east towards Keystone, and then the vast grassland bordering the black hills to the east. We hit rain as we started moving into the prairie, black clouds and bolts of lightening striking to the south and east. Wind and driving rain, Mark and I broke out our rain gear early, and stayed reasonably dry. I loaned Bullock a spare poncho, but his prisoner was on his own. The sheriff gave him a wool blanket to wrap around himself, it certainly didn't keep him dry, but the wool kept him a little warmer. We didn't speak much on that first stretch; just enduring the storm was about all that was on anyone's mind. We made camp just as it was getting dark, I rigged up a passable shelter with a couple army surplus rain ponchos, allowing us a place to stay dry, and cook our evening meal.

"The sheriff was resigned to a cold camp and no coffee when I grinned at him,

"Have faith sheriff, I can provide." Both he and his prisoner just sat there staring in amazement as Mark and I prepared not only hot coffee, but a hot meal for everyone with our primus stoves, and MRE's.

"You boys never cease to amaze me with that magic of yours,"

"No magic here sheriff," I replied, just a little gas stove, they're quite popular in Europe, the MRE's…Well you be the judge, but you'll have to admit, it sure beats bacon, beans and hardtack." I gave the beef stew to the sheriff, a Mexican rice and chicken to his prisoner, Mark had Lasagna, and I dined on Chili Mac. When I produced pound cake, all Bullock could do was shake his head,

"You boys…You boys."

"So sheriff, who's your man here and what did he do?" I asked,

"Names Albert Kiggens, one of the loafers hanging around the Bella Union, stabbed and beat one of the demimonde employed there."

"You should have got hold of me sheriff," said Mark, "I'm pretty good at fixing things like that."

Bullock frowned,

I'm afraid the woman didn't make it, Kiggens is wanted over in Wyomin' for the same thing, that's why I'm taking him down to Sidney."

"Just out of curiosity," I asked, "Do you know the woman's name?" The sheriff thought a moment, then said,

"I believe her name was Miller," it took a moment to sink in, I then glared at Kiggens, which brought the sullen response,

"What you lookin at?" I then turned to Bullock, and said,

"Sheriff, I've got a young boy staying at our place, I caught the Red beating the crap out of him, I don't take kindly to people beating up children." Bullock nodded,

"Heard about that, you really worked him over,"

"Yeah, well he deserved it. Anyway, the boy's name is Caleb, he told me his mother is…well, a soiled dove, his last name is Miller.

I saw the sheriff's brow rise; he then looked over at Kiggens for a moment, then back to me.

"What are your plans for the boy?"

"We're going to raise him right, I can't be his father, or mother, but he will certainly get proper attention. There are other children to play with, and hopefully we can snag a "school marm," but don't worry sheriff, this boy will be loved." Bullock mulled this over for a few moments, then muttered,

"That would be the decent thing to do."

The storm moved on during the night, leaving a beautiful late summer morning. Since I had the last watch, I was already up. As I was standing on a small rise looking out over the prairie, I spotted a small herd of buffalo slowly moving south. I just stood and watched them as Bullock came up next to me, without turning my head, and pointing towards the herd, I said,

"That is why I came here sheriff, I'm watching something no one from my time has ever seen, wild buffalo grazing on open prairie. All people can do is read about it, it's going sheriff…Faster than you think."

Bullock stood and watched for a moment, then asked,

"Are the buffalo completely gone?"

"Oh no, the National Park service maintains a number of herds, lots of them are owned by private individuals as well. The state of South Dakota has a big herd near Custer City; they even have yearly round-ups selling off the excess herd. No, sheriff, the buffalo are alive and well the damn hiders didn't get them all, but to stand here and look out on a scene like this is priceless." Bullock looked at me then back towards the buffalo, then suggested that we better get moving. Before heading back to camp, he asked me,

"Did you bring them fancy guns of yours?" I grinned,

"I don't go anywhere without them, why?"

"Well Albert has some friends that might not take kindly to me taking him to jail…Might try and do something about it."

I shrugged,

"Bar sweep talk,"

"Possible," replied the sheriff, "Maybe they'll get serious if they find out their comrade is riding with a gold shipment." He had a point, I thought for a moment, then said,

"See that small butte out there sheriff, let's work our way to that point, I'll drop out, and scope our back trail, if I don't see anyone following us in oh say, in a half hour or so, I'll catch up." He thought that might not be a bad idea, so after a quick breakfast, we saddled up and moved out. We rode as close as we could to the butte then I dropped off to the left, quickly moving up to a spot where I could hide my horse. While the others moved on, I took up a position piling up some rocks to conceal myself behind. As I was doing this, I found some interesting arrowheads, along with what appeared to be some Indian tools, and a rusted metal striker.

I kept my binoculars trained on our back trail, and was about to give up, when I spotted a swirl of dust in the distance. Sure enough, we were being followed. Six men, old Albert seems to have a lot of friends. I screwed on my suppressor, checked the wind, and picked the spot they needed to reach before the show could begin. Studying the riders through my scope, I was sure they weren't hiders, prospectors or a group of locals out for a ride, they were watching our trail. This kind of sniping always bothered me, these guys weren't enemy combatants out to kill me…Well they were, but there was a distinction. Finally, they were in range, and I went to work. Two men were down before the others even knew what was going on, suddenly the horses of the first two men fell over but not by my hand, it looked like the other four were going to make a stand, bad move. They were now using the dead horses for cover, but I had the height on them and I was too far away for their rifles to be very effective.

They had figured out where I was, and directed their fire in my direction, but I was close to 800 meters away, or about 875 yards, too far for the 44.40 rounds they were probably using. 800 meters was the max for my .308 rounds, but I was using expensive match rounds, so I could expect consistent hits. I could have let them get in closer, but I wanted plenty of distance between them and me, to cut down their options, and give me a better edge. I could see the white puffs of smoke from their rifles, but they couldn't see mine, or even hear me. Once in awhile a round would zing overhead, but most of their bullets were hitting well below me. Slowly but surely, I whittled the rest of them down until the last man stood up and threw down his rifle. I seriously entertained the thought of dropping him right there, but slowly stood up and motioned for the man to approach the base of the butte.

Grabbing my horse, I kept my rifle trained on the man as I came down off the butte. He had his hands up as I approached, with my rifle trained on him,

"YOU! Move over there, lay face down, your arms spread!" He was slow in reacting, so I fired a shot, the bullet hitting near his feet.

"Oh please sir, do not kill me, I give up please, I have a wife and child."

"Then do as your told asshole, DROP!" He did as her was told, I quickly slung my rifle, and drew my .45 auto, and prepared to tie him up. The man was sobbing now, crying that I had killed two of his brothers and a best friend along with the others. As I was binding his hands, Mark, and the sheriff, along with his captive came riding up.

"We could just make out what sounded like a war, so we turned around and came back here as fast as we could," replied Mark. Bullock quickly assessed the situation, and let out a low whistle, all Albert could do when he saw his friends laying dead on the ground was scream and curse at me.

I walked over to him as the sheriff was getting the new prisoner up on his feet,

"Looks like there ain't gonna be any Calvary coming to your rescue after all Albert, you'd better shut your piehole, f**k with the bull…You get the horns." Mark checked the others to make sure they were all dead, then helped me gather up their weapons, and whatever they had in their pockets. All had the usual Winchesters except for one man who had a real nice Spencer Calvary model which I knew would be going to Caleb. We rounded up the horses and with Mark and I leading two, we resumed our travel. It wasn't long before Albert and his friend who announced himself as Nate Taylor, began to accuse me of being a low coward for shooting their friends down. I heard it all, finally after I had had enough I called a halt, and gagged each man making sure the gags were good and tight, I also blindfolded them for good measure.

"What did you do that for?" asked the sheriff, as he moved up next to me.

"A man that can't see, can't get any funny ideas, call it force of habit, I guess."

"You know, them boys is right, snipin' aint favorably thought of, a man likes to face the fellow that's tryin to kill him." I shook my head in disgust, and turned to Bullock.

"Sheriff, I know all about that, the low opinion the generals had of snipers in the war, but I come from another time, the marine corps and the army spend a lot of time and effort to train us, all armies utilize them, it's what makes urban combat so miserable, but that's the way it is, there's no chivalry in war any more." The sheriff dropped back and said no more for the rest of the day.