Storyteller / Shared NPC
Fort Somers
Corporal Malcolm Thurlow and his longtime friend, Private Henry Callison had finally made up their minds, it had been on their minds for some time already about deserting but what with the 7th being slaughtered and worries of Injuns gallivanting all over Montana, they had hesitated to strike out on their own. But with news and army scuttlebutt all showing the Sitting Bull, Crazy Horse, and the rest of those devils were heading for Canada - well it was time to take the gamble. They couldn't delay too much longer before winter would start showing up and Montana winters were miserable for travel especially for someone who would want to avoid main roads or even taking trains.
So it was that on this moonless night the two men snuck into the fort's stable and quietly began to saddle their horses. They had their pistols but not their carbines as it had been felt sneaking out of the barracks carrying those might cause some light sleeper to take notice. Had the two men planned this all better they could have secured the rifles earlier but neither were that sort, acting on last minute impulses was more their style.
"I'll get me the sentry's gun," smirked Thurlow as they silently led their mounts out of the building, heading toward the road leading out of the fort and toward the sleepy town of Kalispell. This fort did not have a walled enclosure, most forts out west did not. Indians did not attack forts.
"And he's a gonna give it ta ya?" asked Callison in a whisper.
"Oh, he will alright," was the equally hushed answer.
On duty that night, another bonus the men thought, was a fresh faced recruit who had only arrived in the past few weeks. Thurlow and Callison didn't even rightly know his name, they were in the same company but not squad. Not that it mattered to Thurlow, just that the guard would be easy prey. Sure enough, the sentry had just stifled a yawn when he saw their approach. Strange, where would they be going this time of night?
"Excuse me, corporal, but you got orders to go someplace?" he felt compelled to ask. He could get into big trouble if he just let two troopers up and leave the premises. No officer or sergeant had informed him of any such thing happening on his shift.
Thurlow cracked a wide smile even as he handed the reins of his horse to a puzzled Callison, "Yes we do, sonny. Hey trooper, what's up with that carbine a yers? You drop it and break the damn thing? Sarge is gonna be real mad."
Taken aback the sentry looked confused and glanced down at the rifle in his hands, "Huh, no...course not."
That was all the time and distraction Thurlow needed, he was right up to the unsuspecting trooper and had drawn his knife, a big nasty looking one he always bragged he took from an Indian warrior. That was partially true, he had stripped it from the redskin's dead body, another soldier had killed the brave.
"Here, lemme take that gun a yers," he still was smiling even as his free hand suddenly came up and clamped over the recruit's mouth and he then plunged the knife deep into his victim's torso just below the sternum.
The agonized cry was well muffled as the young trooper fell backward with Thurlow following him down still stabbing him again and again to make damned sure. Callison hadn't expected that level of violence to happen but then just watched, he knew his old pard could be a very violent man. Instead of making any protest he turned and looked around to see if by any chance of bad luck anyone might be about and seen it. Nothing.
Thurlow looked his victim in the eyes with a savage smile this time as the poor wretch gasped away until his eyes stared upward vacantly. He then rose and took the carbine in hand, moving back to his horse he stuffed it into the leather saddle scabbard. Then went back just long enough to strip the dead of his waistline cartridge belt.
"Let's get otta here, Cal. They catch us now and it's a hangin' we'll git," he suddenly informed his pal.
"Damn, hadn't thought a that," Cal frowned, he was the slower of the two about most things.
And with that, the two men mounted up and rode on down the road toward the town.
Thurlow
Callison
Longshot
Wellington MacKenzie sat at his desk, pondering over the piece of paper in front of him, holding the pen motionless as his anger roiled inside of him. He had hated writing these letters, from the very first one back in the war as a young lieutenant, to the angry lieutenant colonel staring frustrated at the blank sheet. He was tempted to just fill the paper with the normal cliche's, words to reassure the young trooper's parents and make them feel better for him dying out on America's distant frontier...
"BECAUSE HE WAS KILLED BY HIS OWN COMRADE!..." MacKenzie bellowed as he shot to his feet. He tossed the pen onto the paper and strode away from his desk to stare out the window across the parade ground of Fort Somers. The colonel clasped his hands behind his back and bounced a bit on his toes just to express some of the pent up energy inside him.
MacKenzie still remembered the frantic pounding at his door last night. He had opened the door to confront a flushed breathless corporal who blurted out that a sentry had been found murdered and had said the Officer of the Day had sent for him. MacKenzie had dressed hurriedly and was soon standing in a small pool of light from several lanterns held by some troopers while Dr. Hawkins, the Post Physician, examined the dead trooper. MacKenzie bit back a verbal prodding because the Doctor was a thorough man and unimpressed with MacKenzie's rank and position. Finally, Hawkins stood, wiping the drying blood on his hands as he turned to MacKenzie.
"Stabbed...multiple times. Whoever did this wanted to make sure he didn't sound an alarm. They're all deep, too. His killer was not hesitant or unsure. He meant to do exactly what he did to poor Grady, here."
Hawkins bent down and tugged the horse blanket up across Grady's body to cover it from the onlookers. The group all looked up at approaching hoof beats and four men reined in nearby. They were all dressed but looked freshly awakened as MacKenzie did. One man dismounted and the sergeant moved to the colonel, throwing a salute as he handed over a folded piece of paper. "Sir! All other sentries accounted for. No damage or buildings broken into that we could find. The lieutenant is making a circle of the Fort outside the grounds but I doubt he'll find much in the dark..."
MacKenzie nodded and unfolded the paper, reading as much from the lieutenant's note before he pocketed it and then looked around at the darkened buildings. "Well if it was Indians, we'd be fighting or trying to put out fires right now, so that's not it..." MacKenzie pondered the alternatives, then exhaled and looked at the nearest NCO's and officers.
"Wake everyone up! I mean everybody. I want a full head count of the garrison and a list of anyone unaccounted for. Do it twice, no errors..." The officers and NCO's bolted off in various directions shouting orders at others. MacKenzie turned to the same corporal who had awakened him at his quarters. "You...go wake up Captain Barlow. Have him report to me immediately."
MacKenzie blinked as his mind returned to his office and the window he was staring out of. He squinted a bit as he could see a group of men preparing in front of the main stable, loading and securing gear to their mounts. He had sent a runner to fetch Captain Barlow for a final word before his detail departed.
It didn't take long for Benjamin to walk into the commandant's office, the runner had not found him sleeping but already dealing with the incident on hand. In fact he had given orders to Sgt. Braumann to put together a small detail and also locating their civilian scout and his Apache comrade. He too was going along......well, unless the colonel specifically forbade him to.
The colonel looked in a sour mood but then the man had every reason to. One of his soldiers had been savagely murdered. Barlow latest news was only going to make things worse too. It was deserters, a quick check of barracks found two bunks empty and no sight of the men on post. Benjamin came to attention a few steps short of the man, this was the frontier not West Point, normally the officers did not salute much unless they were in public. Barlow, though a long time veteran, was not much for such things.
"You wanted to see me, Colonel?" his tone of voice was always respectful to a superior.
MacKenzie turned and waved Butler toward one of the two chairs in front of his desk. MacKenzie reached and poured a few fingers of brandy into two short glasses from the very nice glass decanter on the side table. He stopped beside Barlow and handed him one glass and continued around to settle into his deck chair. He held the glass up in a salute and then took a sip.
"I figure you could use a jolt before setting out..." MacKenzie looked at the glass a moment before meeting the captain's gaze. "Who is he...or are there more than one?"
The colonel indicated he could sit so he did, not that he planned on being here long. The man also poured some brandy for the both of them and handed the captain one of the glasses.
"Thank you, sir," Benjamin was not one of the cavalry's all too many heavy drinkers even among the officer corps but he did imbibe and was not one to turn down an offered chance at one.
"I figure you could use a jolt before setting out..." MacKenzie looked at the glass a moment before meeting the captain's gaze.
Barlow nodded and sipped the potent liquor, good stuff.
"Who is he...or are there more than one?"
It was no surprise the colonel already had figured out the cause of the sentry's death, not Indians but their own kind.
"Did a barracks check of my company and two men are missing. Neither were assigned guard duties last night either. Corporal Thurlow and Private Callison. You might recall Thurlow lost his sergeant's stripes last year for dereliction of duty. He's long been a known troublemaker. And Callison is his long time friend. Their horses are also missing from the stable."
He frowned then added, "No one else is missing."
That pretty much narrowed it down alright.
"Thurlow...Yes I am very aware of that name...I've seen it many many times. Not surprised, sad to say..." MacKenzie took another sip from his glass. "...Callister is a bit of a surprise. Usually troublemakers match when they pair up. I only recall a few administrative issues with Callister's name on them. Why did he decide to desert with Thurlow? Can you shed any light on that?"
"...Callister is a bit of a surprise. Usually troublemakers match when they pair up. I only recall a few administrative issues with Callister's name on them. Why did he decide to desert with Thurlow? Can you shed any light on that?"
Benjamin swallowed the rest of the brandy, it gave that nice burn going down, then placed the empty glass on the desktop.
"No sir, I cannot. And does it really matter at this point?"
He now stood up, raring to go on the chase, time was relentless.
"Maybe you can ask him when I bring him back. Assuming they don't resist. They have to know they'll be facing a court martial for murder and a hanging," he pointed out dryly.
MacKenzie tossed back the rest of his own drink and stood. "You're quite right. They've made sure it doesn't matter why they did it. They made their bed and now they have to lie in it...six feet down." The older man opened a drawer and pulled out an envelope, reaching and handing it to the captain.
"This is a set of orders detailing you and your men to find and bring in Thurlow and Callister for the murder of that trooper. You're also authorized to do so dead or alive." The colonel lifted the envelope slightly before Barlow could grasp it with his fingers. "If they don't throw their guns down and their hands up the moment they see you...you know what to do."
MacKenzie then came around the desk and walked with Barlow as they left the Fort Headquarters and walked back toward the stables. "Have you found anyone to help with tracking them? I do not want them to escape you by an unlucky break on following their trail..."
"This is a set of orders detailing you and your men to find and bring in Thurlow and Callister for the murder of that trooper. You're also authorized to do so dead or alive." The colonel lifted the envelope slightly before Barlow could grasp it with his fingers. "If they don't throw their guns down and their hands up the moment they see you...you know what to do."
Benjamin was quite certain he knew what the colonel was expecting even if he did not quite say it aloud. It would be less paperwork, no hassle of a trial with a foregone conclusion, but far most important, no public embarrassment to the army a trial would bring in the press. He got it. What with the Custer disaster the army had been taking a lot of hard knocks from the press and public.
"Yes sir, I understand," he nodded.
MacKenzie then came around the desk and walked with Barlow as they left the Fort Headquarters and walked back toward the stables. "Have you found anyone to help with tracking them? I do not want them to escape you by an unlucky break on following their trail..."
"I've sent for our scouts, Mr. MacIntosh and his Indian...Ke-Ni-Tay. Seems they are off post doing a little hunting for some game. They had a hankering for some venison but I'm sure they can catch up to us easily enough. They usually camp close by the fort. I won't wait for them," he answered.
Waiting for the officers now was a detail of six men, Benjamin had hand-picked Sgt. Braumann, a reliable veteran, and that man had selected five privates. Their horses were saddled, the men fully equipped, and stood in a knot talking softly. That is, until one spotted the officers approach and suddenly they lined up at attention.
MacKenzie nodded as they covered the open parade ground. "I'm pretty sure those two could track a lizard across bare rock. Good selection, Captain."
MacKenzie glanced up as he realized their approach was being noted by the detail. The men started to line up and brace to attention. Mackenzie waved a hand as he and Barlow approached. "Stand easy, men...this isn't an inspection." He stood there and looked over the men, noting the weathered sergeant was one of the best on the post, and knew if these other men had been chosen then they were solid troopers. "...Looks like a good detail, Sergeant...the honor of the unit rides with you."
Finally MacKenzie turned to Captain Barlow. "Well, I'll get out of your hair so you and your men can get moving...Good Luck and Good Hunting." He held out his hand to Barlow to wish him luck.