Benjamin opened the door and entered the fort's brig, not much really, just a small room with a barred cell in the corner. It was obvious they never expected it to hold many prisoners given its size. But it held a man on this day and not a soldier either. The soldier on duty stood up from behind the spartan desk in the middle of the room and saluted.
Barlow returned the salute without enthusiasm, he wasn't much for regulations and spit and polish except on the specific occasions it was needed. But then this private probably did not know that, he didn't serve in Barlow's company.
"Sir, " the man stood there then expectantly.
"Open the cell door, private," the officer directed softly.
The trooper hurried to comply and there was the clink of heavy key into the lock then a twist and the lock mechanism snapped open. The trooper then pulled back the door. Barlow stood there gazing at the occupant of the cell. His expression was a mix of disdain and resignation.
"So - are you sober now?"
This particular individual had been playing some cards (for money obviously, why else does one play cards) with a few troopers the previous evening in a shed that was but a hundred yards from the main grounds of the fort. It seemed - or so the troopers said - the man was a card sharp, he had been cheating and what was worse (least for the sharp) he got caught with an extra ace or two up his sleeve. A brawl ensued and one trooper broke his jaw in the fisticuffs. The troopers admitted to there have been liquor involved and been off post without permission. As for the man, he was some civilian who they knew little about. Technically the whole matter could be dumped onto the local law in Kalispell. What irritated Benjamin the most was they now had an injured trooper in an already understrength garrison. The colonel would not be happy.
"So - are you sober now?"
Lorenzo Crabbe shifted wearily on the surprisingly comfortable bare plank that made up the bench-cum-bed in the small cell and, yawning, fumbled for his thick spectacles and put them on, before twisting and sitting up. He looked around the little cage with interest before stumbling to his feet with a softly spoken comment, presumably to himself.
“Been in worse.”
Standing up made him realise how hung over he was, and he also noticed the pain in his right knuckle, like he’d punched a wall last night. It all started to come back to him, as he squinted toward a stern-looking military figure in the doorway. The fellow looked grim, and altogether in need of cheering up.
“Well, Morning there General!” Lorenzo waved and then gave a sort of half-assed salute “How’s the war goin’?”
He felt his hand throb again. “Say, mon Capitaine, I wanna put in a complaint against one of your soldiers: last night he chinned me right on the knuckles, then right after that he sexually assaulted my knee cap. Can’t miss him, big feller, 'bout so tall, red hair, screams a lot. There was a little feller with him, too, but he ran off for help. He should be shot for cowardice in front of the enemy.”
Then he remembered something else.
“Those soldiers are a disgrace to your Regiment, Cap, they not only slandered my good name but they insulted a lady.”
“Well, Morning there General!” Lorenzo waved and then gave a sort of half-assed salute “How’s the war goin’?”
Benjamin did not even begin to smile, apparently the fellow fancied himself as quite funny which he was not.
“Say, mon Capitaine, I wanna put in a complaint against one of your soldiers: last night he chinned me right on the knuckles, then right after that he sexually assaulted my knee cap. Can’t miss him, big feller, 'bout so tall, red hair, screams a lot. There was a little feller with him, too, but he ran off for help. He should be shot for cowardice in front of the enemy.”
Two could play that game.
"If I could have someone shot, it certainly wouldn't be that trooper. So be careful what you wish for," he dryly informed the man.
Still the jasper wasn't done yet with his trumped up act.
“Those soldiers are a disgrace to your Regiment, Cap, they not only slandered my good name but they insulted a lady.”
"There was no woman present," the captain retorted, least that had not been brought up in the versions not only the troopers gave but the sergeant who had showed up to break up the incident. He also held up his hand as if to halt the man's continuing.
"And if you are about to make some crack you think is comical and show off what a wit you have, don't. I am not the most patient of men. I came here to tell you something not listen to you blather on," he warned the man in measured tones but the hardness in his eyes warned of consequences if the fellow should choose to ignore the advice.
In almost perfect timing, the door opened once more and in came another two soldiers. A bearded sergeant (well the man would know that if he understood the concept of stripes as forms of rank) and a second trooper. The sergeant had a set of manacles in his hands. Both of the men looked like tough customers.
"Sorry we're late, sir," Sgt. Nikolaus Braumann addressed the officer.
"It's fine, sergeant. In fact your timing is right on the money," Barlow answered.
Sgt. Nikolaus Braumann
If I could have someone shot, it certainly wouldn't be that trooper. So be careful what you wish for," he dryly informed the man.
“Oh, you can put me up against a wall anytime you like, mon Capitaine, from what I’ve seen of soldiers’ shooting, I reckon I’d be in about the safest place. And as for those two last night…” he shook is head sadly…
“Those soldiers are a disgrace to your Regiment, Cap, they not only slandered my good name but they insulted a lady.”
"There was no woman present," the captain retorted.
“Oh, she wasn’t present all right, she was insulted in absentia, you know, like when soldiers criticize their officers behind their backs. Why they said that this lady I was proposing to introduce them to was as ugly as sin and not worth a dollar a pop: now that isn’t a gentlemanly way of speaking to my mind, Cap. It’s true she’s no oil painting, but what she lacks in looks she makes up for in experience.”
“Say, you might know the lady I’m referring to…” he started, but the un-amused officer was having none of it.
"If you are about to make some crack you think is comical and show off what a wit you have, don't. I am not the most patient of men. I came here to tell you something not listen to you blather on," he warned the man in measured tones but the hardness in his eyes warned of consequences if the fellow should choose to ignore the advice.
"Well you sure like to suck the fun out of things, don't you Cap, if I might say so." frowned the civilian. Anyone would think it was Barlow that had a hangover that would kill a horse, not Lorenzo. He squinted his eyes, magnified like a pair of cherry pies behind the thick glasses, as another two uniformed figures entered.
He peered at them, and then at the manacles and gave a wry grin. “Well damn me.” he said, shaking his head, and held out his wrists.
“All right boys, put the bracelets on me if it makes you feel better, I promise not to hurt you!” he informed them, before it hit him that they might not be for his hands “… or are these for my ankles, case I make a run for it and you can’t catch up with me on your corn-fed cavalry horses.”
The man was too cocky, Benjamin could certainly see why the troopers and he had gotten into it - well even over and above the cheating, his constant insults. If the fellow's goal was to have people despise him, he was certainly succeeding. But regardless Barlow had a job to do and taking the bait was only going to make this drag out further.
"Neither of us are here for fun, a peculiar notion you have there, card sharp," Benjamin remarked.
Least it didn't seem like the man was foolish enough to try and resist what was about to happen to him. Wise decision.
"Your ankles. Then we are going to load you onto a wagon and take you into town to leave you with the local sheriff to deal with, you being a civilian and all," the officer explained.
"Oh and you do something so stupid as try to get away and my men have been instructed not to chase you but to shoot you in the legs. I trust you realize a bullet can do some powerful damage to a leg if it hits you in the right place. Might even lead to an amputation. So think long and hard about that."
The NCO now knelt and fastened the manacles onto the fellow's ankles as Benjamin finished outlining the army's plans for him.
"We will also inform the sheriff that you are a card sharp and a troublemaker and it would behoove him to banish you from staying in this fine town. You'll have to move on."
Braumann stood up again, "They're on, sir."
"Thank you, sergeant."
"Neither of us are here for fun, a peculiar notion you have there, card sharp," Benjamin remarked.
“Card sharp, Captain?!” he cried, feigning shock at the suggestion. “Why, I do believe a man is innocent until proven guilty in these parts and it’s hardly my fault if your troopers misconstrued my good intentions in removing some superfluous cards from a faulty deck and putting them in my pockets out of harm’s way!”
He shrugged, these military dictator types weren’t to be reasoned with. “So what’s it to be, tops or bottoms?”
"Your ankles. Then we are going to load you onto a wagon and take you into town to leave you with the local sheriff to deal with, you being a civilian and all," the officer explained.
“Whoa there, Captain!” yelped said civilian “You trying to ruin me? I just took rent on a little store in Kalispell to open a … well, er, a little theater, of sorts, I got to keep on the good side of Marshall Guyer! And he’s a lot like you, Captain, doesn’t seem to see the funny side of life’s little hiccups!”
But the military martinet was more intent on trying to frighten him off running away, like he really had thought he could outrun a mounted Cavalry trooper!
"Oh and you do something so stupid as try to get away and my men have been instructed not to chase you but to shoot you in the legs. I trust you realize a bullet can do some powerful damage to a leg if it hits you in the right place. Might even lead to an amputation. So think long and hard about that."
The NCO now knelt and fastened the manacles onto the fellow's ankles as Benjamin finished outlining the army's plans for him.
Crabbe was having to think fast. He didn’t know this walrus-mustached officer from Adam, but the fellow must have a chink in his amour. He would have to fall back on generalities. What did every Cavalry Officer he had ever met have in common, apart from the mustaches? Hmmm. There were two. Two things that every man that bore the yellow shoulder straps fussed and worried about and would do anything to improve: their careers and the condition of their men’s horses. Each would have their other little interests and peccadilloes, but those two were sure fire standard issue concerns for everyone from 2nd Lt. Greene, fresh out of West Point to General Sheridan himself.
He nodded to himself, he would try the latter first, as being the easiest to effect.
"We will also inform the sheriff that you are a card sharp and a troublemaker and it would behoove him to banish you from staying in this fine town. You'll have to move on."
Braumann stood up again, "They're on, sir."
"Thank you, sergeant."
“Thanks Sarge, they’re right comfy!” he smiled at the hirsute noncom, and then looked back up the officer.
“Now listen here, Captain, before we start Behooving all over the place, isn’t there any way we can strike a little deal to avoid all this unnecessary inconvenience and unpleasantness?” he pulled a face of concern. “Now, I know where to get hold of a batch of top grade curry combs and burr brushes, just been shipped out from the East. Now, you know those Army issue combs are no use, they break after ten minutes proper use and even before that they don’t do the job properly.”
He did have a point, even the Army admitted it but couldn’t issue a newer improved design to their men because, of all things, patent infringement issues. It would be some years before the troopers of the 2nd Cavalry would receive decent tools to keep their mounts in order.
Lorenzo Crabbe’s giant magnified eyes peered at Barlow to see if this offer would make any impression on his steely demeanor.
"Whoa there, Captain!” yelped said civilian “You trying to ruin me? I just took rent on a little store in Kalispell to open a … well, er, a little theater, of sorts, I got to keep on the good side of Marshall Guyer! And he’s a lot like you, Captain, doesn’t seem to see the funny side of life’s little hiccups!”
"That is your problem not mine," Benjamin honestly did not care. He had little use for civilians in many things, one such as this fed that distaste.
The man wasn't done yet, changing tactics it seemed.
“Now listen here, Captain, before we start Behooving all over the place, isn’t there any way we can strike a little deal to avoid all this unnecessary inconvenience and unpleasantness?” he pulled a face of concern. “Now, I know where to get hold of a batch of top grade curry combs and burr brushes, just been shipped out from the East. Now, you know those Army issue combs are no use, they break after ten minutes proper use and even before that they don’t do the job properly.”
"I'm not a quartermaster merely a company commander, I do not deal with military purchases of any kind of supplies. But if you mean you would simply give them to me without cost...." Barlow paused.
"That would be attempted bribery, note that, sergeant, the prisoner attempted to bribe me," he smiled this time at the sergeant.
"Of course, sir," the veteran NCO grinned thru that thick beard of his.
"Trooper, check to see if the wagon is ready outside so we can throw this troublemaker onto it and get him out of here," Benjamin now directed the other soldier.
Crabbe’s kind offer to get hold of some decent grooming equipment for the Captain’s company seemed at first to have struck a nerve.
"I'm not a quartermaster merely a company commander, I do not deal with military purchases of any kind of supplies. But if you mean you would simply give them to me without cost...." Barlow paused.
“Why sure, a nice little gift to show there’s no hard feelings about last night’s little misunderstanding!” he offered. “I’ll even throw in a bottle of patent medicine that’s good for glanders.”
"That would be attempted bribery, note that, sergeant, the prisoner attempted to bribe me," he smiled this time at the sergeant.
"Of course, sir," the veteran NCO grinned thru that thick beard of his.
“What?!” Lorenzo could hardly believe his ears, most commanders would give their eye teeth for essential equipment of high quality such as he was offering. The fact that he didn’t actually possess any such things was beside the point. He was hurt. As for that grinning beaver faced sergeant, with his ‘Yes Sir, No Sir, Three Bags Full Sir’ routine, oh, he’d get his by and by! But Lorenzo knew to act all friendly-like for a while longer.
"Trooper, check to see if the wagon is ready outside so we can throw this troublemaker onto it and get him out of here," Benjamin now directed the other soldier.
Lorenzo was getting uneasy about the way that this thing was shaping up now, and was forced to deal from the bottom of the deck.
“Well, there is one other thing I might be able to help you with, Captain, if it doesn’t count as attempted bribery, of course.” It wasn’t any native sense of honor among thieves that made Lorenzo hesitate; it was more the awareness that he might be jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire.
“You see, one of those boys last night mentioned that you army fellers are all in a lather about some enterprising fellow who’s had the gumption to sell some old rifles and more than a few bottles of high grade firewater to the redskins. The way they told it, sounded like you were in a mighty hurry to find that particular person’s name and street address so that Uncle Sam could pop around there with the bill of reckoning, so to speak.” He said no more until he saw if the fish was like to bite.
Just when it seemed that maybe this fellow had finally run out of verbal ammunition when Benjamin squashed his offer, that proved to be a false assumption on the officer's part. No, he brought up yet another desperate ploy.
"... one of those boys last night mentioned that you army fellers are all in a lather about some enterprising fellow who’s had the gumption to sell some old rifles and more than a few bottles of high grade firewater to the redskins. The way they told it, sounded like you were in a mighty hurry to find that particular person’s name and street address so that Uncle Sam could pop around there with the bill of reckoning, so to speak.”
This time the man had piqued Barlow's interest at the mere mention of 'rifles'. Though the rifles the army was concerned about were not old but more likely factory fresh new model weapons. Henrys, Winchesters, all repeaters. Not the sort of thing the army wanted to see in hostiles' hands.
"Oh? So you're saying you know where such an individual might be? I may well be interested alright but you are going to have to be convincing you aren't just making this up," Benjamin replied instantly.
It was common knowledge, at least among the officers out west of the Mississippi that the Department of the Army was preparing a major campaign to take place this very summer to force the hostile Plains tribes back to the reservation or destroy them should they resist. So if they could get their hands on any gun runners that would mean less weaponry for the Indians to use on the soldiers when the confrontation occurred.
"But - if what you say is genuine - we could be more than willing to make all of this trouble you are currently in go away," he wanted the man to know.
"Oh? So you're saying you know where such an individual might be? I may well be interested alright but you are going to have to be convincing you aren't just making this up," Benjamin replied instantly.
“Oh, I ain’t making this up, honest Injun! Oh, er, no pun intended there, Cap.” The civilian quickly assured the army man.
"But - if what you say is genuine - we could be more than willing to make all of this trouble you are currently in go away," he wanted the man to know.
“Well I thank the Lord that we seem to be on the same page of the hymn book at last Captain!” Lorenzo beamed “Now if you’ll just get ol’ Corporal Beardy here to get me out of these here leg irons, maybe we could mosey over to your office or barracks or whatever you call ‘em and I’ll spill everything I know about these God forsaken heathen gun runners.”
Seeing that the Company commander still didn’t seem to trust him, for some strange reason, he added: “Once I’ve told you what I know, if you still don’t believe that I’m on the square, you can drag me backwards through the dirt all the way the Kalispell and hand my carcass to the Marshall for target practice.”
He would, indeed, have to truthfully tell the Captain everything he knew about the illegal trading with the Indians, he couldn’t risk changing or fudging anything, because he didn’t know exactly what the Captain already knew. The story he would spin about how he knew all this in the first place might have to be slightly gussied up, however, to shine a rather more rosy light on his own involvement than it rightly deserved.