It was almost mid morning by the time, Jack and Little Elk, riding double on Regret with Little Elk in front and Jack hanging off the rear of the saddle, rode into Fort Buford. The scene was much the same as the day before; the fort Indians still lingering lazily about and the sparse military personnel idly attending to menial affairs. What was surprising was that the wagons were gone. He had expected them to still be here. With wounded to be cared for, he didn’t think they would be traveling for several days.
Jack angled the big black off to the side and reined in at the hitch rail in from of the post headquarters. He lifted Little Elk down first, then stepped down himself and spun the reins over the rail.
He was just helping the boy onto the porch, when the door opened and Major Pearson stepped out, pulling the door closed behind him. “Mister Clayton,” he said with surprise. “I thought you’d be far away by now.”
Something about it bothered the G-Man. A hint of suspicion. “I’ll bet you did.” Jack thought, not sure why he did. Offering no explanation for his return immediately, Jack asked. “Where is the wagon train? I am surprised they left so soon.”
“Actually, so am I.” The Major said. “I advised them to stay until they were completely ready to go, but they were anxious to return to their homes. So, I sent a detail with them to accompany them back to the Platte River.” Then he changed the subject and asked again. This time more demandingly. “So, what brought you back?”
“I want to see Brave Bear.” Jack stated flatly.
“I am sorry, but that will not be possible.”
“Oh, why not?”
“He’s not here.”
“What?” Clayton raised his voice, incredulously.
“Don’t get upset.” Pearson warned. “It’s strictly procedure. We can’t hold renegades here. Brave Bear and Latrell have been transferred to Fort Laramie. A squad of soldiers took them not more than an hour ago. Sorry you missed them.” Then added. “Just what did you want to see him about?”
“This is Little Elk,” Jack said placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Brave Bear is husband to Little Elk’s sister. She’s missing and the boy is all alone. Brave Bear is the only family the boy has left.”
“I see.” Pearson said. “You wanted to turn the boy over to him? A renegade? I’m sure the boy would be better off on the reservation anyways.”
“You’re right, but I have some questions to ask Brave Bear.”
“I’m sorry, but, if you would like, we can take the boy back to the reservation and you can be on your way.”
Little Elk spun his dark heard and looked up pleadingly at Jack. “No that won’t be necessary,” Jack said. “The boy stays with me. Come on Little Elk.” He turned the boy toward Regret and lifted him into the saddle and swung up behind him.
“If you should change your mind….” Pearson said.
“I won’t,” Jack stated flatly, lifting the reins and prodding the black. They rode out. Pearson clenched his fists, tightened his jaw, and watched them ride out.
He watched until they disappeared over the horizon, then turned and entered the command post. “Get Latrell and Brave Bear here, pronto.” He ordered. The burly Master Sergeant saw the fire in the Major’s eyes. He leaped nervously to his feet from behind his desk and practically tripped over his own feet, not able to get out of the office fast enough. “Fool!” Pearson muttered to himself with a grouch on, and went to his office and closed the door behind him.
“Well?” Commissioner Thorpe asked. “You got rid of him?”
“Yes,” Pearson growled, rounding his desk and plopping into his chair dejectedly. “But he’s suspicious. He wanted to see Brave Bear. Claims the boy he has with him is Brave Bear’s. I told him Brave Bear and Latrell had been sent to Fort Laramie. I couldn’t let him know I didn’t lock them up, could I?”
“No of course not,” said Thorpe.
“I’ve sent for Latrell.” Pearson added.
“You did right. We’ll send him out and have him kill our Mister G-Man.”
“That might not be so easy.” The dusty range attired man sitting next to Thorpe said, taking a drag on the expensive cigar Thorpe had given him. “I found that out.” He glanced to the woman sitting to his right. She was dressed in a vest and divided riding skirt.
Bert Fleming and Francy Jones had ridden hard for two days after arriving at Fort Lincoln and finding that Commissioner Thorpe had gone on to the Black Hills. Rudy Hayes had wanted to ride on and find Thorpe, but his companions persuaded him that in light of the recent happenings at Fort Lincoln and the dispatch of General Custer to Wyoming, it would not be prudent for a presidential candidate to get caught in the middle of a potential Indian war. Fleming suggested that he and Francy ride on in his stead and transact their business with Thorpe while he should return by river boat to Omaha and then on to Ohio.
“You don’t just kill a man like Jack Clayton.” Francy said. “You have to outsmart him.”
“You seem to have a high opinion of Mister Clayton, but after all he’s just a man ,Miss Jones.” Thorpe smiled confidently.
“Bert thought he had killed him once,” Francy Jones nodded toward Bert Fleming. “But he failed.”
“I’m not Bert,” Thorpe chuckled. “So, tell me Bert, what did Hayes think of your failure?”
Fleming squirmed uneasily in his chair. Francy said, “He thought he was a blasted fool, of course.What else?”
****
Chapter Eleven
Ambush on the Trail