“Ke-Ni-Tay’s fine, gone on ahead following Joseph Klinzing’s directions. Can’t be sure this is it, but from what he told us, there were three men and a wagon. Said that if we headed that way,” he pointed in the direction he had come, then off a bit to the east, “to a bluff just below a creek where we would be able to see what he said was Black Kettle’s village."
"Bluff huh, I might know that one," reasoned Benjamin.
“Jesus, they got here fast” exclaimed Crabbe. “They must’ve caught the railroad train!”
"Hardly, nearest bluffs I can recall by a creek is probably a good two days marches away. But it's still good information, we got us a more specific destination," Benjamin wanted to tamper down expectations. But he also had a question of MacIntosh.
“Say, MacIntosh. This Klinzing feller. Did he have a moustache and wear a big hat?” asked Crabbe with an air of faint recognition of the name.
"Yes, speaking of the man. Who is this Klinzing anyhow? So you just stumbled onto him out there?" questioned the officer.
“Say, MacIntosh. This Klinzing feller. Did he have a moustache and wear a big hat?” asked Crabbe with an air of faint recognition of the name.
“Hell Crabbe, hardly a man in the Territory without a mustache, his hat? Could be big I ‘spose. Fairly beat up.”
"Yes, speaking of the man. Who is this Klinzing anyhow? So you just stumbled onto him out there?" questioned the officer."Buffalo Hunter, he said, and dressed like one. Seemed to know about the man, well men we’re looking for, and where Black Kettle’s village was. ‘Course, a man aimin’ to keep his hair would be likely to keep track of the Indians in the area."
“We spotted him from atop a hill. He was well below us, but he saw us alright, a man out here ain’t likely to miss a couple men higher up, especially with one who’s obviously out of place in these parts.”
“Hell Crabbe, hardly a man in the Territory without a mustache, his hat? Could be big I ‘spose. Fairly beat up.”
“Yeah, I know, that was sort of …" he looked back at the line of men behind him who, except for some of the younger recruits who couldn’t grow one, invariably sported a wide brimmed hat and a bushy moustache, just like MacIntosh and the Captain. “… a joke.”
He himself eschewed the current fashion. He had raised a fairly decent mustache himself once, but it tickled his nose and put off the women folk, so he’d consigned it to the shaving bowl.
“Yes, speaking of the man. Who is this Klinzing anyhow? So you just stumbled onto him out there?” questioned the officer.
Crabbe shut up and listened, the man’s name was unfamiliar, and not so commonplace that you would forget it.
"Buffalo Hunter, he said, and dressed like one. Seemed to know about the man, well men we’re looking for, and where Black Kettle’s village was. ‘Course, a man aimin’ to keep his hair would be likely to keep track of the Indians in the area."
Crabbe was unimpressed with this Klinzing’s occupation, anyone could hunt buffalo, he’d done it himself for a season, even with his less than perfect eyesight. They didn’t run away. You could ride right up to the brutes and blow their tiny brains out at virtually point-blank range. Sure, the rest of the herd would amble off at the report, but a few minutes later they would be settled again, not even aware of the danger they were in. That’s why they were no longer as numerous as before.
“We spotted him from atop a hill. He was well below us, but he saw us alright, a man out here ain’t likely to miss a couple men higher up, especially with one who’s obviously out of place in these parts.”
Crabbe nodded to himself – yep, MacIntosh did have that look about him of someone who might originally have hailed from somewhere like Wisconsin or Michigan.
"Very well, I see then, Mr. MacIntosh. Good to know," Benjamin was mostly satisfied now that he knew a bit more of the details. A buffalo hunter? Well, they and the Indians seldom would ever get along so the man would probably be telling the truth, not wanting to hide the Indians from the army.
"I just hope your man is alright out there on his own. Myself, I never like to send out any trooper on his lonesome. Too many bad things can happen. However, he is an Indian, so hopefully he can handle himself," he addressed the scout.
"Let's keeping moving, leastwise for a few hours more, then we will camp. Mr. MacIntosh, if you would be so kind, go see if you can find a suitable camping spot up ahead, thank you."
"Oh and take along two of my troopers. Sergeant!"
"Yessir, captain?" the heavily bearded NCO was quick to reply .
"Detail two troopers to accompany Mr. MacIntosh. Make it crystal clear to them, he is in charge. They are along for the ride," Benjamin directed.
"Yessir, captain! " came the almost instant response.
"Very well, I see then, Mr. MacIntosh. Good to know," Benjamin was mostly satisfied now that he knew a bit more of the details. A buffalo hunter? Well, they and the Indians seldom would ever get along so the man would probably be telling the truth, not wanting to hide the Indians from the army.
“Be my thought.” MacIntosh responded matter of factly.
"I just hope your man is alright out there on his own. Myself, I never like to send out any trooper on his lonesome. Too many bad things can happen. However, he is an Indian, so hopefully he can handle himself," he addressed the scout.
“Ki Na Tay is wiley, and has a knack for avoiding detection, but woe to the man that sees him. He’s got a real taste for the plains Indians, they aren’t like his Mimbreño brothers, or any other Apache. They fight differently, live differently, of which he uses to his advantage.”
"Let's keeping moving, leastwise for a few hours more, then we will camp. Mr. MacIntosh, if you would be so kind, go see if you can find a suitable camping spot up ahead, thank you.”
“Certainly, Captain.” Was the response as MacIntosh wheeled his horse, recalling a defensible position about an hour ahead, with a stream close by.
"Oh and take along two of my troopers. Sergeant!"
"Yessir, captain?" the heavily bearded NCO was quick to reply .
"Detail two troopers to accompany Mr. MacIntosh. Make it crystal clear to them, he is in charge. They are along for the ride," Benjamin directed.
"Yessir, captain! " came the almost instant response.
MacIntosh really felt no need of an escort, or whatever it was called, but he wasn’t about to buck the Captain over it. If he could, he’d slip away later and try to locate Ke Ni Tay, then ride back for the troop with whatever information the Apache learned.
A few days later...
MacIntosh found the detachment a good campsite, near water and partially concealed from distant view at least by a line of rolling hills. It would do, Benjamin thought after a first look and ordered the men to make camp for the night. A horse line went up and guard watches assigned. Not that it needed to be for the veterans but it was stressed how important it was for the sentries to be alert. Falling asleep on duty would be a very serious offense, no excuses accepted.
The night passed without incident, the likelihood had actually been very low given Indians did not like to raid or fight in the darkness. Partly due to their beliefs about the afterlife and partly due to the difficulty of coordinating most anything. It was much the same with the Army, night operations were fraught with confusion and worse.
Barlow woke the men up at the crack of dawn, so far in this early glimpse of the oncoming day it seemed like the weather would hold up. Very few clouds and that should mean no rain. They should make good speed. Of course so might their targets and possibly the Indians too. Well, unless that village was set up to stay in the same place for awhile.
After a rather hasty and unsatisfying breakfast, the troopers mounted and headed out in that same direction they had been heading the day before. Benjamin would have liked to been optimistic but he'd gone out on these sorts of operations before and they could last days even weeks, should one push it to that. Well, he was not going to stray that far from the fort but it was far too early to give up yet.
The early morning coolness gave way to a sunny warmth and by midday many of the men were down to shirtsleeves, given those dark blue woolen soldier jackets one could hardly blame them. Benjamin was an officer, he was expected to look like one so he just perspired and bore it. This was still far better than snow and wind or even the more drastic heat which would roll in around July or so.
They were deep in the plains but plains were not all that flat in many parts. Rolling hills meant they often crested one to see what was in sight next. But this time it would be different. Before the column could even ascend the next rise, here came the scouts barreling downhill with what had to be news. Barlow could only hope it was their prey.
****
About a mile off was a trio of wagons, heavy ones too drawn by teams of half dozen horses, accompanied by a pair of riders. They were moving in a north east direction. The drivers of those wagons and their mounted companions had no idea that their little caravan had been spotted.
Ke-Ni-Tay had once again saved their bacon, cautioning their ascent on what had appeared to be an unremarkable rise, and it was just that, but the Apache had heard something, carried on the morning breeze. They paused holding the muzzles of their horses against a whinny. MacIntosh knew right then there was trouble just over the rise.
Ke-Ni-Tay, the one with the better stealth eased up the slope while MacIntosh held the horses. Once near the top, with brush plentiful, the Mimbreño used scrub brush as a blind to view what was below. He smiled to himself, it would be a simple thing to kill them all, but that was not why they were there, they were there to report to the captain.
He made his way carefully back down the slope. But a bit faster than he went up, jogging back to MacIntosh. “Three wagons. Two outriders. Five white eyes in all. Wagons heavy, easy to follow.”
“Might be our quarry. Let’s get back to the column.” Both had spoken in hushed tones. Both swung into the saddle, walking their horses a good fifty yards away, and then spurring them to run hell for breakfast back to the troop. There was always a chance they had not walked the horses far enough not to be heard, but then again, what would they do about it, come after them?
Over the last rise they came, as if the tails of their horses were on fire and their shirt-tails were catching! Across the flat and pulling up sharply.
“Mornin’ Captain, think we found ‘em. Three heavy wagons, two out riders. Five men that Ke-Na-Tay saw, might be more inside the wagons, if so, could be relief drivers, can't be sure. " MacIntosh reported.
“Mornin’ Captain, think we found ‘em. Three heavy wagons, two out riders. Five men that Ke-Na-Tay saw, might be more inside the wagons, if so, could be relief drivers, can't be sure. " MacIntosh reported.
Crabbe, still kept unarmed by the untrusting Captain’s decree, came bustling up, pulling on his grey civilian jacket, staring at Ke-Na-Tay with wide and slightly wild eyes, made even wider and wilder by the magnifying effects of his thick spectacles, and it was to the Apache, not the white scout, that he addressed his questions.
“One of these white men, was he round faced, bulbous nosed, as old as MacIntosh with eyes the color of the afternoon sky?” he asked urgently, punctuating his description with the sign language understood by all of the disparate, warring Indian tribes. He was desperate to know if Mercier was amongst the party. If he was, then it would be time for him to start to think about how to secure himself a gun, to shoot the bastard down in cold blood, whatever Captain Benjamin damn Barlow’s plans for the creature were.
Benjamin ordered the column to a halt as he saw MacIntosh and Ke-Ni-Tay coming down the slope in a rush. Had to be some sort of news. Sure enough...
“Mornin’ Captain, think we found ‘em. Three heavy wagons, two out riders. Five men that Ke-Na-Tay saw, might be more inside the wagons, if so, could be relief drivers, can't be sure," MacIntosh informed him.
Benjamin nodded, that could well be the gun runners. Why else heavy wagons in the middle of nowhere, if they had legitimate goods they'd be on a road between two towns. Before he could say something though, their 'civilian guest' butted in.
“One of these white men, was he round faced, bulbous nosed, as old as MacIntosh with eyes the color of the afternoon sky?” he asked urgently, punctuating his description with the sign language understood by all of the disparate, warring Indian tribes.
Benjamin glared at the man, "These men are reporting to me, Mr. Crabbe. And if I want any inclusion in this conversation from you, I will ask for it."
Then his eyes went back to the scouts, "Sounds like we found our prey, gentlemen. And the only way they can outrun us now if they abandon their wagons."
"Plus they don't necessarily know we are looking for them. Afterall we only found out about these fellows thanks to Mr. Crabbe here," he at least acknowledged the man's contribution to all this.
"I take it they weren't moving in haste?" he asked of the scouts . Again not that he worried about them outrunning the detachment just that the fellows might be aware they were about to have company.
Even as he listened to the answer, Benjamin began coming up with a tactical plan to seize the train and hopefully it's occupants.
The Apache looked at the one called Crabbe with neither like or dislike, but then he didn't know him except in passing, that he was there. There was no question of trust, there was none for the white man. Then he looked back to the captain.
"Go slow. Wagons too heavy, ruts deep. Horses poor choice to pull." Ke-Ni-Tay answered. In his mind he could see how simple it would be to ambush them. He looked back at Crabbe. "Moon face, big nose, drives first wagon. They not worried, believes no one sees them."