Revenge Requires Two Graves

  Chapter 16

  Jack Smoot

  A couple days out of Ft. Kearney, Jack Smoot snuck up behind Morgan Adams, placing his hands over her eyes. “Guess who?” he said jokingly.

  She reached up and took his hands from her face and spun around. “Oh, Jack, you finally caught up with the wagons. I’ve missed you so much. What was so important that you had to stay back in Ft. Kearney?”

  “Now don’t you worry your little head about affairs best left to men,” he smiled, at her, his eyes lit with faint condescension.

  Morgan didn’t care much for the way he dismissed her need to be involved in what she felt were their affairs. But she figured time would iron that problem out.

  “I’ve got a wonderful idea. Why don’t you throw somethin’ into a basket and we go for a ride out on the prairie?” Jack suggested.

  “I don’t know, that doesn’t sound like a very safe thing to do. The wagon boss told all of us to stay near the wagons. This is supposed to be Cherokee territory.”

  “Everyone knows that the Cherokee are friendly. Come on Morgan, unless you don’t want to go for a ride with me?”

  “No, no that’s not it; I’m just a little scared.”

  “You don’t have to worry about any damn Indians, I’ll keep you safe,” bragged Jack while he thought more about what he hoped would happen out there where the two of them were alone.

  “Okay, as long as you think it’s safe enough,” said Morgan, consenting to Jack's insistent charm.

  Morgan knew that Jack was an eastern boy and had little or no experience on the trail. She wanted to show her beau she had faith in him, so when she carried the saddlebags filled with food to the horses, she didn’t mention to him the pistol also packed in the amongst their lunch.

  Morgan was enjoying the warm morning sun on her face as they rode across the small rolling hills away from the train toward the north. Jack was also watching the scenery, but it only consisted of Morgan’s form in the saddle. He was quite taken by the way she rode her horse astride instead of in a sidesaddle. She wore a pair of men’s jeans pulled tight at the waist by a leather belt. The top was her Pa’s; a red plaid shirt tucked into her belt with sleeves rolled up on her arms to free her hands. She wore a small Stetson on the back of her head to keep the sun off of her pretty face.

  After riding a short distance, Jack spotted a small grove of trees. He turned Morgan’s horse to ride in under some branches. He dismounted and walked around the front of his horse, reaching out and taking Morgan’s reins and tied both horses to a tree. He then turned and helped Morgan down from her mount. Morgan untied the packs from her saddle and carried them over to a flat spot in the shade. Meanwhile Jack spread out the blanket he had conveniently tied to the back of his saddle. Morgan sat down on the end of the blanket and started laying out some food, intentionally placing the items as a wall between her and the advances that she was sure would be forthcoming. Jack threw himself down onto the blanket in front of Morgan, grabbed a drumstick and began to eat his way through Morgan’s defenses.

  “When we get to California, what are your plans?” asked Morgan still trying to gain some insight into Jack.

  “Oh, I’m not exactly sure yet. I figure to play it by ear. See what happens, what comes my way,” answered Jack

  “You mean our way, right?” Morgan asked.

  “Oh yeah, that’s exactly what I meant, our way, what comes our way,” said Jack as he pushed the food off the blanket and slid over next to Morgan, who sat with her legs crossed.

  “Well I think we should be getting back now,” said Morgan.

  “Don’t worry sweet thing, we can leave in a few minutes,” Jack whispered while putting his arm around her.

  “Please don’t do that, Jack. We aren’t even properly engaged yet,” pleaded Morgan as she tried to untwine his arms from around her neck.

  “I say we get engaged right now,” said Jack as he rose to his knees, forcing himself against Morgan. His weight pushed her over onto her back as he fell on top of her.

  “Jack! No! You get off of me right now! This is not right! You’re ruining everything,” cried Morgan as she struggled to free herself.

  “Oh shit, that hurt! What the hell did you hit me with?” cried Jack.

  As he rolled off of Morgan, Jack looked up and found himself staring up into the eyes of three Cherokee braves. Filled with such overwhelming fear he never heard Morgan’s scream as the braves grabbed her arms and drug her to her horse. Jack was set to run off in the opposite direction when he was struck from behind again, causing everything to suddenly turn black.

  The Indians threw Jack over his saddle and the five horses were off in a fast trot.

  -CKS-

  Morgan sat close to her protector on the Indian skins that covered the hut floor. She had always been one who could take care of herself, but this was different. Her entire body was shaking uncontrollably with fear. She did feel some comfort in the arms of Jack Smoot.

  Smoot, however, wasn’t feeling as secure and safe as this young girl in his arms seemed to be feeling. What was he going to do? He thought to himself. How was he going to get out of this mess? He didn’t want to die. He didn’t deserve to die. He was too young and too gifted.

  As the tent flap whipped open, a white man named Bowman entered the hut.

  “Okay, here is what you are up against. The brave that brought you two in decided that he wants the young woman for his wife. Normally that would be the end of it for you son. But when they captured you two, it seems they found you in somewhat of a compromised position. The tribal leaders believe you are husband and wife.”

  “But we’re not husband and wife and if Jack had not thrown himself at me, we would have been sitting quite civilized,” whimpered Morgan.

  “You don’t understand. This could work to your benefit. This tribe does not allow one to marry another man’s wife, not even a white man’s.”

  “So they’ll let Morgan and I go?” interrupted Jack.

  “Yes, if you defeat him,” answered Bowman.

  “Defeat him? Defeat who? How?” Jack squeaked.

  “The brave,” answered Bowman. “If you kill the brave, then you will have won the challenge and Morgan will not have to go with Crazy Dog,” explained Bowman.

  “Crazy Dog, is that his name?” asked Jack.

  “Yes, he’s this tribe’s greatest warrior.”

  “Well then how am I supposed to defeat him?” asked Jack.

  “I’m not so sure you can, unless you are very good at fighting Indian style and using a knife. But it is your only hope to save this young woman,” Bowman said gesturing toward Morgan.

  “Morgan, yes of course, Morgan. Okay, what if I refused to fight him, what would happen? Would they release me?” asked Jack without looking the others in the eyes.

  “I don’t think, I understand your question,” asked Bowman. “You did hear me say that if you don’t fight, Morgan will have to go with Crazy Dog?”

  “Yes, yes of course, but…just to discuss all our options…what would happen?” Jack inquired.

  “Well I guess one of three things: either they would let you go and give Morgan to

  Crazy Dog, make you someone's slave and give Morgan to Crazy Dog, or torture and kill you and then give Morgan to Crazy Dog. Any way you look at it, if you don’t fight, Morgan will be a captive of Crazy Dog’s. I don’t see where you have any choice. Should I go and tell the tribal council that you accept the challenge?” asked Bowman as he began to rise and move towards the tent flap opening.

  “Now hold on, let’s not move too quickly until we have a chance to think about this. Maybe the wagons are sending a rescue party as we speak, perhaps if we stall, we can gain an edge?” stuttered Jack.

  “The Cherokee will see anyone coming long before Anyone coming see the Cherokee, and kill all three of us long before anyone can even get close to the camp. No. Morgan’s only chance is to get her away from here as soon as possible. Now are you
ready to fight?” demanded Bowman.

  “No, I can’t fight a damn Indian. It ain't civilized, this ain't fair. I didn’t do anything to them…I don’t deserve this…I haven’t harmed them…No, No, No,” shook Jack as he pulled away from the others.

  “I’ll fight but not now, no not now, we need to wait and bide our time…perhaps if I refuse to fight they’ll let me go and I can go get help. Yes I think that might work. Crazy Dog won’t have time to harm Morgan before I get back, you’ll see,” begged Jack.

  “That won’t work Jack and you know it!” shouted Bowman as he turned to Morgan.

  “What do you want to do? There isn’t much time.”

  After a long silent pause, Morgan spoke, “I can’t ask him to fight for me. He’s right, this is not his fight and besides, he’s no Indian fighter. Perhaps if I go with this Crazy Dog fellow, they’ll let you two go?” stated Morgan trying to pull in all her inner strength.

  “Not his fight? Morgan if this isn’t his fight than who’s is it? I understood him to be your man?”

  “So did I,” spoke Morgan sadly. “At least there’s still a chance for your escape.”

  “Oh, I’m not going anywhere.” Bowman explained, “My Lord has called me to serve these people. They need to hear the Word of God. Their souls need to be cleansed of sin in order to be saved. But I will do all I can to help you get away Miss,” promised Bowman.

  “Thank you Mr. Bowman, you are a very brave man. I sure could use your strength. Will you walk out with me?” asked Morgan with a broken voice, offering her hand in Mr. Bowman's direction.

  “Of course I will. I will be with you as long as they let me stay,” said Bowman as he rose and took her arm.

  Taking Mr. Bowman's arm Morgan rose to her feet, brushed the dirt from her dress, straightened her hem and prepared herself for whatever was to come. As Bowman reached out to pull back the flap on the hut a warrior guard pushed him back inside.

  “What’s wrong?” asked Morgan.

  “Look there,” Bowman motioned for Morgan to look out the flap and into the distance. “Two men riding into camp. They’re white men, riding tall in the saddles. Yes, this is good, show no fear,” said Bowman.

  “Who are they?” asked Morgan as she moved the flap, pulling the edge back enough to peek out. “Oh my God, no, not him," she groaned.

  “You know those men?” asked Bowman.

  “Yes,” moaned Morgan. “He’s going to get himself and all of us killed. At least he’s riding with the scout.”

  “I’ll try and go out there and see if I can help moderate. You stay here; I guess you have no choice. See if you can bring him back to his senses,” Bowman said as he pointed at Jack, “we may still need him,” and with that he stepped out of the tent.

  The guard did not stop Bowman when he saw that the girl was remaining behind. Bowman made his way to the circle of Indians and Ray and Zeke. They sat in their saddles as Bowman spoke to the chief. Once he received a nod of the head he turned to the two visitors.

  “My name is Bowman. I have come here to save these poor souls. I am not a prisoner or at least I don’t think I am. The two that you are looking for are in the hut over there. But the condition of their release is in question. They are still okay, but the man, Jack, does not wish to face his challenge. At least not right now, as he put it. You see, the brave that captured them wants Morgan as his wife,” explained Bowman.

  “A wife? You must be joking,” Ray yelled.

  “Take it easy, Ray,” said Zeke. “We’re still alive and talking.”

  “Listen to him son, he's right. The problem is that the brave cannot marry Morgan yet because they believe she is married to Jack. So the brave has laid down a challenge to Jack. But due to his fear it appears he will not accepting the challenge.”

  “Then that means the brave wins and can take Morgan?” Ray asked.

  “That’s about the size of it,” said Bowman looking to the two of them for any suggestions.

  “There is only one thing we can do,” said Zeke. “Bowman, you have to tell the counsel that Jack is not the husband.”

  “What, if I do that Crazy Dog will just take her,” argued Bowman.

  “Wait, let me finish. Tell them that Jack is not the husband but that Coop here is the husband, and he accepts the challenge,” spoke Zeke.

  “What are you talkin’ about? I’m not her husband! Ray said with a look of shock.

  “I know that and you know that but they don’t,” spoke Zeke sternly. “If you have any other ideas I’m listenin’. Doesn’t sound like Jack’s gonna be doin’ any challengin’ any time soon. You’re her only hope son.”

  Morgan’s mouth dropped as she listened to the conversation from a crack in the flap. “I am going to be an Indian wife. There is no way Ray can defeat a Cherokee Indian warrior, even if he chooses to fight,” whispered Morgan.

  Ray dismounted as the Indians moved in close on him. Stopping in front of the Chief he signaled to Bowman to join him. “Tell them that I am the husband and I accept the challenge.”

  Bowman spoke to the tribe in their tongue. When he stopped all the tribal members stared and then began laughing.

  “Why are they laughing, Bowman. What’s going on?”

  “I’m afraid son that they are laughin’ at you. They do not believe you will offer much of a challenge for Crazy Dog.” said Bowman sympathetically.

  “Crazy Dog? Oh crap, that’s his name? What have I gotten myself into now? Better, what have YOU gotten me into, Zeke?” Ray said as he shook his head.

  “You’ll do just fine, Coop,” spoke Zeke, trying his best to sound reassuring.

  “Well when does this dance begin, tomorrow?” Ray asked.

  “I’m afraid the Cherokees are not that patient when it comes to settling a challenge,” said Bowman as he directed Ray towards the large center area of the camp.

  Standing there waiting for him was Crazy Dog, obviously the largest Indian in the camp, both in height and weight. He was nearly six feet tall, which was very unusual for this tribe, and appeared to be a solid mass of muscle. The look on his face was one of determination and total confidence. As he looked upon his challenger he was already celebrating his victory before the fight had even begun.

  Although Ray stood just a few more inches in height, near six feet two and around two hundred pounds, he still had a youthful face especially when compared to the rugged, leathery face of the man who had obviously suffered the burning hot summers and freezing cold winters of the plains with little more than a blanket to protect him from the elements.

  Zeke dismounted, dropped his reins and walked over to Ray. “Boy, you ever fight before? I mean to the death?”

  “Not really Zeke,” Ray replied.

  “Remember, in a battle like this, there is no quit. It’s kill or be killed. You know what that means?”

  “Well sir yes. Don’t lose.”

  “Right…and cheat like hell. Anything and everything goes. This ain’t Wisconsin,” instructed Zeke. “Here boy, use my knife.”

  Ray took the knife Zeke offered him. It felt good, fitting firmly into the palm of his hand.

  “When you thrust be sure to run it all the way in to the hilt. Then push down on the handle and up very quickly and firmly.” Ray's stomach churned with nervousness and anticipation.

  With a pat on his back from Zeke, they parted. Ray walked within ten feet of his opponent with Crazy Dog staring at him to intimidate him. Without warning the Indian lunged forward and cut Ray’s side with a slashing motion, knocking Ray backwards and flat out onto the ground. There was that laughter again. The braves standing in the circle around the fight began thrusting their spears and knives in Ray's direction, taunting him, and cheering for their warrior. Confident the final blow was sure to come to the white man. Ray jumped back up onto his feet, trying to brace himself for the next onslaught. He didn’t have to wait very long. Crazy Dog thrust again, cutting a line of blood on Ray’s left forearm. Then he kicked out
with his left foot and caught Ray in the stomach, collapsing him to the ground. Crazy Dog moved in and kicked Ray in the face. The blow struck him in the mouth and nose and sent a spray of blood over several of the bystanders. Another cheer went up for their champion.

  Believing him to be out of the fight, Crazy Dog reached down and grabbed Ray’s left arm. Crazy Dog was intending to run his knife the length of Ray’s chest when he suddenly felt a burning in his gut. Crazy Dog was over confident and relishing in his victory. Ray had seen an opening in his defenses. Crazy Dog never anticipated the stab of Ray’s knife pushing all the way in to the hilt, then down hard and up. Ray pulled the knife out and stepped back, feeling a warm flow of blood running down his arm. The silence of the tribal circle was deafening. Crazy Dog stared up into the sky, calling to his ancestors, as he fell face first to the ground. A pool of blood began to build under the massive warrior’s body. Ray walked painfully to where Zeke stood with a slight smile of intense relief on his face. He held the knife at the ready, not sure if or when the tribe might move in to finish them. Two of the warriors pulled their knives and started forward, but a call from the Chief stopped them in their tracks.

  The Chief turned and spoke to Bowman in a very stern voice. Zeke and Ray waited impatiently to hear what he was saying.

  Bowman translated to Ray and Zeke with a sparkle in his eyes, “The counsel has spoken. You are to take your wife and the baby man, those are the chiefs words, and go.”

  “Are you comin’ with us Bowman?”

  “No, as I told Morgan, this is where I belong.”

  “You are a good man Bowman. Thank you for helpin’ us,” Ray said as he extended his hand.

  After shaking hands, Ray moved over to the hut. The guard stared back and then gave ground. Ray pulled back the hut flap and extended his hand to Morgan. Speaking softly he said, “Come on Morgan, it’s time to go home.”

  Taking her hand he lifted Morgan gently out of the hut and suppressed a cry from the sharp pain from the slash on his side. He then turned back to Jack and shouted, “Smoot, unless you plan on becomin’ a Cherokee, you might want to get up and get on a horse.”

  Morgan mounted up behind Ray and found the stain of blood on his side. She frantically tried to search Ray’s side for the injury.

  “I’m fine, Morgan,” assured Ray.

  “But you’re bleeding” cried Morgan.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Right now I just want to get the hell out of here,” pushed Ray.

  “All right, but you need to have those cuts cleaned, Ray” begged Morgan.

  “I will, thank you,” finished Ray.

  Jack crawled up behind Zeke, and they all headed toward the wagon train.

  They were all concerned that the Cherokee might regret their decision to let them go or that a couple companions of Crazy Dog would decide to get revenge. The ride back started out quiet with each of them constantly checking their back trail. But after a couple hours in the saddle their fears began to wane and relief flowed over them. Morgan burst into laughter first and then buried her face into Ray’s back and sobbed.

  Jack started to spew a river of excuses for his lack of action on Morgan's behalf. There would be no shutting him up until, in his own mind; he believed he had convinced the three he had done all that he could do. His greeting at the wagon camp would make or break his reputation.

  Ray couldn’t really condemn Jack for what he had done or failed to do. Who knows, if he had had a way out of fighting Crazy Dog, maybe he would have done the same thing. But he knew he would always choose to fight for Morgan even if she didn’t choose to fight for him.

  Arriving in the camp they soon realized that the women immediately heard what had happened and surrounded Morgan, whisking her off to comfort her. They all knew the horror stories of what Indians did to captive white women and were relieved to hear she had not been touched. But there were those who always enjoyed a juicy story and disappointedly walked away from the circle of women.

  After being asked over and over, Morgan finally gave in and told her story of what happened. She left out of course most of Jack Smoot’s involvement, only saying that he had done all he could. But the women discerned by the look of disappointment on Morgan’s face that he had failed her.

  Ray however fared much better. Word soon spread around camp that he was some kind of great Indian fighter who had rode into the Indian camp and rescued the damsel in distress.

  -CKS-

  John Lane rode parallel with the wagon train for a couple days to confirm that Ray Cooper and his party were staying with the wagons into Ft. Laramie. Once he was sure of his prey, his pace increased into a gallop. No reasons to spend another night sleeping on the cold ground when he could rent a cot or bed at the next stop and wait them out. Lane decided he was the only pursuer and no new rivals were on his back trail. He was pretty sure the Cooper party would head south once they reached Salt Lake City, while the rest of the wagon train would continue west to Northern California or Oregon. That many people all traveling together would make for too many witnesses. No, he would wait to finish it out in the desert. There would be no one around and no one to interfere, ensuring the odds to be in his favor.

  -CKS-

  The next few days Ray noticed a difference in the way Morgan spoke to him. She seemed kinder, friendlier, but still just a little standoffish. He, of course, took this as a good sign. Apparently Jack Smoot did not. The situation was getting a little dicey. When Ray approached the dinner fires Morgan would extend a warm meal in his direction, nothing more than she would do for any of the other men she was indifferent to. But for Ray that was monumental. She used to ignore him before even if the two were sitting at the fire together, and that scenario was usually short lived. Morgan would immediately rise and make her retreat.

  Ray didn’t believe anyone else in the camp would have recognized this new behavior except for himself and Jack Smoot. Ray was very much aware of Jack’s presence since he had fought for the girl that Jack should have fought for.

  When Ray spoke to John and Larry about Morgan warming up to him they both laughed.

  “All you’ve done, Ray is to get that girl from wantin’ to hire a bunch of rough necks to throw you out of camp, to just toleratin’ you,” laughed John even harder.

  “I tell you, she is warmin’ up to me. I can tell,” said Ray as the boys began to bed down for the night.

  “Ray, you still don’t know anything about women,” laughed Larry as he slapped Ray’s shoulder with his hand. “The only woman you better be thinkin’ about is the one you left back in Wisconsin. Now that’s a girl to reckon with.”

  “I couldn’t agree more. I have to say that every once in awhile the hair on the back of my neck stands up just thinkin’ about what’s ahead of us or behind us. She’s not the type of girl to quit. She’ll keep comin’ and comin’ till we’re dead or she is,” said Ray.

  The boys began to whisper so as not to disturb Laurie sleeping above them in her wagon.

  “You mean you think one of us is gonna have to kill her?” asked Larry with a worried look on his face. “Do you know what they do to men who hurt women?”

  “I’m not promisin’ one of us is gonna have to do the deed, only it seems to be a strong possibility. Now, I think we better all get some sleep. We’re gonna be pushing hard tomorrow in hopes of reaching Ft. Laramie before dark.” Ray concluded.

  “That’ll be some doin’ but barrin’ any unforeseen problems I figure we can do it,” spoke Larry as he scratched his chin.

  “Well then, with Larry’s blessin’, I’ll see you boys in the mornin’,” said John as he walked toward one of the small fires.

  “Very funny,” said Larry as he headed for the bushes.

  As they all bedded down for the night a small pretty face looked out from her wagon. She owed these boys a lot. After all Ray Cooper had saved her from a life as a saloon woman, and the boys all had introduced her to Richard.

 
Laurie knew the boys were right; the West would never stand for a man shooting down a woman, even if it seemed the woman probably needed shooting. When the time came she told herself she would need to be ready.

  The next morning came around awful early. “Let’s go boy,” greeted Zeke.

  Yes sir, I‘ll grab my horse and gear and meet you up front.” Ray rose and headed for the horse remuda. There he separated out his horse from the herd. Horse was a very tall, strong quarter horse with a rich black coat and two small brown patches; one over each eye that raised and lowered with each of his emotions. A twin patch of brown also showed just at the bottom of his legs above the hoof.

  Ray threw a saddle on Horse’s back, placing the bridle into his mouth quickly to save his finger. Ray could tell by the way his horse stood each morning, waiting for the saddle and bridle what he would be going through before they could hit the trail. His horse never really liked the bridle and basically put up with it out of respect for Ray. He wasn’t very crazy about the saddle either but Ray wasn’t about to ride bareback. One of them had to yield and after throwing Ray many times, Horse had reluctantly decided to give in.

  Zeke and Ray headed west toward Ft. Laramie. Even though Zeke was quite confident the wagons could make it he was anxious about making it as soon as he had hoped. The train was badly in need of supplies and the morale was starting to wear a little thin.

  “I figure they got about sixteen or seventeen miles to go today,” said Zeke as he looked out towards the Platte River. Havin’ that there river runnin’ next to us makes the travelin’ a lot easier. The animals can keep movin’ longer and they don’t have to carry a bunch of water in the wagons. Once you boys turn south you’ll not have that luxury anymore.”

  “How did you know we were gonna be goin’ south? I wasn’t even sure of that fact yet, myself.”

  “Well boy, it’s the best way to go for a rider on horseback trying to get to California real quick,” smiled Zeke.

  “Well I guess it can’t hurt to talk to you about it. You see Zeke, John, Larry and me have been ridin’ together from Wisconsin.”

  “And Richard and Laurie?” ask Zeke.

  “Well, we kinda picked them up in Missouri.”

  “You runnin’ away from somethin’ in Wisconsin?”

  “Damn Zeke, would you let me talk. We’re really not so much runnin’ away from somethin’ in Wisconsin as trying to find…”

  “Your Ma,” interrupted Zeke.

  “Now how in the hell did you know that?”

  “Well shucks boy, when you first got here you went from every wagon and every tent askin’ if anyone had seen her. That’s when I figured you’d be in a hurry to get to California on account you figured that’s where your Ma would be.” Zeke concluded.

  “Is there anything that doesn’t miss your attention, Zeke?”

  Zeke gave Ray a sly glance. “Not much boy. That’s how I’ve stayed alive.”

  “What made you think of us turnin’ south?”

  “A woman alone won’t likely be headed to the gold fields unless she was of a sort, and I dun ruled that out. She could be going to San Francisco, but I’m thinkin’ Southern California. If you don’t know where she is I’d start there and work my way up California. Besides, they got a drink down there they call Tequila. Well boy, I’ll tell ya, it’s worth the ride. The women are awful pretty, too. Hell I may give up this train and join ya. Move out there Betsy, we have a ways to go and I’m gettin’ thirsty,” said Zeke as he licked his lips.