"All right Captain” Lorenzo held up the palms of his hands in surrender, “No need to tie me to a nag, them army saddles are painful enough without that added inconvenience.”
“Oh well, least the saddle won't be as hard as that Army hard-tack we'll be eating for a week, know what I’m saying fellers?” he chuckled knowingly to the two non-commissioned men.
The sergeant smirked but decided not to retort as the officer might not appreciate him engaging their prisoner in any give and take.
Benjamin gave the man a look too, "Well, if you do not wish to eat on our mission, that is fine with me, I won't force you. We will be leaving as soon as I can assemble a detachment."
He then turned to the soldier on duty in the gaol, "I was going to suggest you see to it the prisoner eats a breakfast yet before we leave but it seems army food is not suitable for his refined palate."
At that point Barlow turned to leave, "Til later, Mr. Crabbe."
Benjamin gave the man a look too, "Well, if you do not wish to eat on our mission, that is fine with me, I won't force you. We will be leaving as soon as I can assemble a detachment."
"Oh I'll eat all right" Lorenzo quickly assured the officer "'Fact, now I've stopped feeling so sick, I'm pretty ravenous."
He then turned to the soldier on duty in the gaol, "I was going to suggest you see to it the prisoner eats a breakfast yet before we leave but it seems army food is not suitable for his refined palate."
"Oh, no, that's all right, Cap. I'll practically eat anything that won't kill me. 'Fact, I remember once when I was up..." he began an anecdote, but the Captain wasn't too interested.
At that point Barlow turned to leave, "Til later, Mr. Crabbe."
Lorenzo gave a fey wave, and returned his farewell "Later, Captain Barlow."
Once that stern and immovable object was gone, Lorenzo could try and get to work on the Sergeant and the two troopers...
Once everyone was assembled and mounted, the patrol headed on out from the fort. Riding at the front were Captain Barlow, their reluctant volunteer Crabbe, and the pair of scouts, MacIntosh and Ke-Ni-Tay, followed by thirty-two troopers, about half of Barlow's understrength company. Trailing were six pack mules carrying useful supplies. Hopefully a large enough command to get the job done but yet small enough to not alarm any Indians they might come upon as being an attempted attack. Such decisions were always tricky but a part of the job.
Barlow felt he might as well get the introductions out of the way, "Mr. Crabbe, these two gentlemen are civilian scouts Mr. MacIntosh and Ke Ni-Tay. And this fellow is Lorenzo Crabbe, who has been dragooned into finding this so-called Grandfather. It is my hope we can all work together amiably enough however I am the one responsible for this expedition and all final decisions will be mine to make. That doesn't mean I won't appreciate any input you provide."
Barlow felt he might as well get the introductions out of the way, "Mr. Crabbe, these two gentlemen are civilian scouts Mr. MacIntosh and Ke Ni-Tay. And this fellow is Lorenzo Crabbe, who has been dragooned into finding this so-called Grandfather.”
Crabbe sat easily atop an ugly, fat bellied pibald mare he had chosen from the Company’s spares: she was all black at the front and all white at the back and was a somewhat queer looking creature to behold. Crabbe himself didn’t look much better, wearing riding boots, a civilian suit and a wide brimmed straw hat which, along with as many tobacco based products as he had in stock, and a good slicker, the civilian had purchased from the Fort’s sutler with the ready cash he had in his money belt.
He looked strangely happy as he was introduced to the scouts.
“Hell, Cap, the Mr John MacIntosh, the famous Army Scout, needs no introduction to me. How d’ya do, Mr MacIntosh, you probably don’t remember me, but we have met before: I was one of the ‘Would be Sooners’ you chased out the Black Hills with Colonel Potter’s command back in ’72. In fact, I think the last time I saw you, I was on the wrong end of a stock-mounted colt Army you were pointing in the general direction of my head.” He ruffled the mane of his lazy looking horse, who seemed baffled by the whole proceedings “Still, all’s fair in love, war and gold mining, no hard feelings on my part.” He beamed, touching the brim of his hat.
As for the Indian, in his smock like shirt, he looked like he hailed from one of the south western tribes.
“Well, this feller looks a little off of his range” he grunted before holding up a hand in greeting and, bereft of any knowledge of the native’s language, tried him with a little Spanish, which some Apaches were conversant in.
“Urm… buen día, Ke-Ni-Tay. Me llaman demasiados ojos!” which in good old-fashioned English meant Good day, Ke-Ni-Tay, they call me ‘Too Many Eyes’ which was, in fact, what the Indians he had dealings with did call him. He didn’t know at this point that the brave spoke the white man’s tongue.
Crabbe looked again at the Captain and indicated the trio of civilians. “Well, what with us three musketeers leading the way, backed up by your little army and those vicious looking mules, I reckon we’re a force to be reckoned with, Cap.”
“It is my hope we can all work together amiably enough however I am the one responsible for this expedition and all final decisions will be mine to make. That doesn't mean I won't appreciate any input you provide."
Crabbe indicated his compliance by giving another touch of his hat, as his horse trotted along unhappily, eyeing many a tasty looking clump of green grass that she was not allowed to stop and nibble.
“Hell, Cap, the Mr John MacIntosh, the famous Army Scout, needs no introduction to me. How d’ya do, Mr MacIntosh, you probably don’t remember me, but we have met before: I was one of the ‘Would be Sooners’ you chased out the Black Hills with Colonel Potter’s command back in ’72. In fact, I think the last time I saw you, I was on the wrong end of a stock-mounted colt Army you were pointing in the general direction of my head.” He ruffled the mane of his lazy looking horse, who seemed baffled by the whole proceedings “Still, all’s fair in love, war and gold mining, no hard feelings on my part.” He beamed, touching the brim of his hat.
MacIntosh glared at the man a long moment, he didn’t exactly remember the man, but he remembered the mission and the outcome. The war with the plains Indians still raged in many areas. “Can’t say as I do, but you “Sooners” did your damage. I ‘spose you could say you’re a lucky man then, that you’re brains aren’t in the Black Hills.”
As for the Indian, in his smock like shirt, he looked like he hailed from one of the south western tribes.
“Well, this feller looks a little off of his range” he grunted before holding up a hand in greeting and, bereft of any knowledge of the native’s language, tried him with a little Spanish, which some Apaches were conversant in.
“Urm… buen día, Ke-Ni-Tay. Me llaman demasiados ojos!” which in good old-fashioned English meant Good day, Ke-Ni-Tay, they call me ‘Too Many Eyes’ which was, in fact, what the Indians he had dealings with did call him. He didn’t know at this point that the brave spoke the white man’s tongue.The Apache looked at the man speaking with no expression on his brown face, just something in his eyes. Something not pleasant.
“Wrong dialect. I speak in your tongue, no need to try to speak in mine.” Ke-Ni-Tay was not quite sure which language the man was using, not that it mattered, he would kill him, if it came to that.
Crabbe looked again at the Captain and indicated the trio of civilians. “Well, what with us three musketeers leading the way, backed up by your little army and those vicious looking mules, I reckon we’re a force to be reckoned with, Cap.”
“It is my hope we can all work together amiably enough however I am the one responsible for this expedition and all final decisions will be mine to make. That doesn't mean I won't appreciate any input you provide."
Crabbe indicated his compliance by giving another touch of his hat, as his horse trotted along unhappily, eyeing many a tasty looking clump of green grass that she was not allowed to stop and nibble.
Benjamin smirked, "Yes, Mr. Crabbe, it seems you impressed these two as much as you did me."
Introductions over, it was time to get down to business.
"Alright then, you said something about the Tongue River, following that. And a Two Kettles village. So is it your recommendation we head that way?"
An offshoot of the Lakota Sioux the Two Kettles were themselves divided into a few bands, as far as Plains Indians go, they were less hostile to the whites than most. But these were troubled times and no telling how they might react to the sight of a cavalry column.
MacIntosh didn’t remember Crabbe, despite his singular appearance.
“Can’t say as I do, but you “Sooners” did your damage. I ‘spose you could say you’re a lucky man then, that you’re brains aren’t in the Black Hills.”
Lorenzo shrugged. Damage? Progress? The inevitable Manifest Destiny of the White Man? Call it what you will. His attempts to communicated with the Apache scout met with an equally chilly reception.
“Wrong dialect. I speak in your tongue, no need to try to speak in mine.” Ke-Ni-Tay was not quite sure which language the man was using, not that it mattered, he would kill him, if it came to that.
If this was their ‘friendly’ Indian, Lorenzo wondered, what the hostiles would be like! “Oh handy, mighty handy.” he smiled, keeping cheerful looking against the scowling savage by sheer force of will.
Benjamin smirked, "Yes, Mr. Crabbe, it seems you impressed these two as much as you did me."
Crabbe smiled a wide closed-mouth smile which, along with the thick glasses magnifying his eyes, made him look like a satisfied toad who’s just eaten a dirty great fly. He shook his head. “Shucks Cap, I ain’t here to be liked, I suppose. But at the end of the day, you’ll be able to say I did for you what I promised.” he stated. These three were hard to melt, and might not even be worth the effort. The feller he really needed to butter up was the most important man in the outfit. The feller in charge of the food.
"Alright then, you said something about the Tongue River, following that. And a Two Kettles village. So is it your recommendation we head that way?"
Crabbe pulled a face that indicated deep thought. “Well, Cap, last I heard, Eagle Woman’s people were heading North West from the Tongue, and they’ve probably crossed the Yellowstone by now. If we head due East to Grand Falls, we can cross the Missouri just below there with ease, and then cut down to the South East. We’ll either run into them, or someone who knows their whereabouts, or maybe even Granddaddy Longlegs himself.” he thought it through logically. “Unless we run into hostiles first, of course.”
He looked at Ke-Ni-Tay and MacIntosh “What’d’ya think fellers?”
Crabbe pulled a face that indicated deep thought. “Well, Cap, last I heard, Eagle Woman’s people were heading North West from the Tongue, and they’ve probably crossed the Yellowstone by now. If we head due East to Grand Falls, we can cross the Missouri just below there with ease, and then cut down to the South East. We’ll either run into them, or someone who knows their whereabouts, or maybe even Granddaddy Longlegs himself.” he thought it through logically. “Unless we run into hostiles first, of course.”
He looked at Ke-Ni-Tay and MacIntosh “What’d’ya think fellers?”
The scouts looked to one another and then back to Crabbe. MacIntosh spoke first, as usual, “You lead the way, we’ll scout ahead Captain, if there’s to be any trouble, we’ll sniff it out first. Times are not the most pleasant with the Indians, but, not all of them are out, yet. And Mister Crabbe, we’ll be sure to let you know if we see this “Granddaddy Longlegs” you’re goin’ on about.”
Ke-Ni-Tay sprang into his saddle the looked at Crabbe and smiled. Of course an Apache smile such as that was cold.
Crabbe explained what he believed would be the situation and it sounded reasonable enough. As for his guarantee, well that remained to be seen. But Benjamin would not be happy with a wild goose chase, not happy at all. The man then asked the scouts on their views.
"You lead the way, we’ll scout ahead Captain, if there’s to be any trouble, we’ll sniff it out first. Times are not the most pleasant with the Indians, but, not all of them are out, yet. And Mister Crabbe, we’ll be sure to let you know if we see this “Granddaddy Longlegs” you’re goin’ on about," answered MacIntosh.
"We brought Mr. Crabbe out here because of what he knows so we'd be fools not to follow his advice...least for now. Sounds like we got a long ride ahead of us but so be it," Benjamin conceded.
"Alright, we head east then. Mr. MacIntosh, you and your man take the lead. For now it sounds like we are just trying to find the Two Kettles band."
"Oh and I get nervous about ridgelines and high ground, make it a point to check those out lest there be hostiles waiting to spring an ambush on the opposite side," he requested.
"And last but not least, we do not fire the first shot. See any trouble, get back fast. I want to be the one who makes the decision to engage or not."
"We brought Mr. Crabbe out here because of what he knows so we'd be fools not to follow his advice...least for now. Sounds like we got a long ride ahead of us but so be it," Benjamin conceded.
Lorenzo nodded sagely at the sound of his own name and mention of his self-proclaimed expertise in this matter. To be fair, he was not so much worried about not finding the gun runner, Calvin de Lancey, as what would happen when they did.
"Alright, we head east then. Mr. MacIntosh, you and your man take the lead. For now it sounds like we are just trying to find the Two Kettles band."
Crabbe grinned a little self-satisfied grin at the situation: on the one hand he was, to all intents and purposes, a prisoner; an unwilling hostage being taken into hostile Indian territory against his will. But to Eagle Woman’s people, or to Grandfather, would he be something else? Would they see his jailers more as an armed military escort, allowing him to travel where he needed to go without fear of molestation? Yep, every silver dollar had two sides to it, he reckoned, even the counterfeit ones.
"Oh and I get nervous about ridgelines and high ground, make it a point to check those out lest there be hostiles waiting to spring an ambush on the opposite side," he requested.
The Captain was directing these instructions to MacIntosh, of course: he would no more give instructions direct to Ke-Ni-Tay than he would to the scout’s horse. But the Apache was the one that interested Crabbe. MacIntosh was a good scout, with a good reputation, even fame in some quarters: he was more in the stamp of the resourceful Charley Reynolds, rather than that puffed up windbag ‘Buffalo Bill’ (whose shortcomings as an actual scout in the field were soon to be highlighted in the upcoming Little Bighorn campaign). But still, it was the impassive looking savage that Lorenzo would look to in any upcoming trouble.
"And last but not least, we do not fire the first shot. See any trouble, get back fast. I want to be the one who makes the decision to engage or not."
Lorenzo took his opportunity, seeing as the conversation had drifted that way, and casually asked “Say, Cap, don’t you think you should give me a shootin’ iron to tote, 'case trouble does break out? I ain’t the greatest shot in the world, but ‘every little helps’, as they say.”