A Book Series Set In The Lawless West
Reuben Cole - The Early Years by Stuart G. Yates
Series Excerpt
I learned later, much later as it happens, that Lance and two of the range-team rode into Fort Defiance around the same time Brown Bear and I did our best to prepare the cabin.
It was cold when they got there and the men were wrapped up, making it easier for them to mingle with the others wandering aimlessly around the fort’s interior. There was an atmosphere of despair in the place, all direction and sense of purpose gone. A heavy mood settled over the fort, talk of coming war on everyone’s lips. It was as if they had surrendered themselves to the inevitability that disaster was about to strike and change lives forever.
Lance sought out the one building that continued to thrive – the saloon. Although calling it a saloon was an exaggeration. Lance explained later how the counter consisted of two long boards, maybe old doors, laid across four barrels. There were plenty of bottles arranged on the wall behind the makeshift bar and a chipped mirror. Whoever ran the place had worked hard to make it appear as normal as possible. Men pressed tightly together, all of them quaffing their beer and whisky whilst in the corner a small band of fiddle players played a series of bright, Scottish reels. All in all, the ambience was congenial and, given the circumstances, surprising. Did they know something he did not, Lance wondered?
Ordering drinks for himself and his companions, Lance studied the many faces of those crammed into the room, all of them flushed with drink.
“You’d think they were celebrating.”
Lance looked across to one of his companions, Nils Lofgren, who, like Lance, scanned the surroundings.
“Now the army has gone,” said Lance, “they feel they’ve been let off the leash.”
“It’ll end in trouble.”
“No doubt. I want you to circulate, try and find out anything about Reuben. See if anything unexpected or out of the ordinary has happened over the last day or so. We might be able to pick up something. A clue. Anything.”
Nils doffed his hat and disappeared within the press of rowdiness surrounding them.
“What d’you want me to do, boss?”
Lance nodded at his second companion. “Take a wander around outside, Mitch. It’s a big fort, lots of barrack rooms, stables, outhouses, and offices. You might pick up something. We’ll leave within the hour whatever the outcome and pick up the trail.”
“If we can.”
“We will. Not sure that Reuben would come this way, but I reckon he must be close. If he’s run into trouble this would be the logical place to head for. It’s well known and I’m sure Reuben could find his way if he had to. He’s sensible enough.”
“What if it’s Indians, boss?”
“His pa was concerned about that, but there have been no reports of trouble from Arapaho for a long time. Comanch have moved on and so will they, I reckon. Especially when the hostilities begin.”
“You think it’ll come to that?”
“The news coming out of Carolina seems to suggest it and together with Lincoln’s strong words, I reckon it’s a certainty.”
“But Carolina ain’t gonna be able to resist on its own.”
“No.” Lance stared into his whisky glass. “We’re looking down the barrel of a loaded gun, Mitch. I think it’s about to go off.” He sighed and drained his drink. “Now go and see what you can find.”
Mitch Knowles adjusted his gun belt and wandered outside. For a few moments, Lance watched the man’s retreating back before swinging around to the counter.
After a few more drinks, the three men met up outside in the dusty parade square. The squat, sun-bleached buildings pressed in around them on four sides. Despite the continuing rowdiness seeping out from the saloon an atmosphere of loneliness permeated from every mud-brick wall.
Lance wandered across to where the horses were hitched against a sagging rail. “Anything?”
“There was an incident,” said Mitch, “but nothing to do with Reuben though.”
“How d’you know?”
“Had something to do with an Indian.”
“That’s what I picked up,” said Nils. “Seems like this Indian came in with some skins and got into a tussle with a group of drifters. They took exception, beat the hell out of him then shot his mule.”
“Shot his mule? Why would they do that?”
Nils shrugged. “Sport, I guess. You know the type, Lance. Mean, bored, looking to make a quick buck whenever they can. They don’t give a whole lot for anyone or anything, ‘cepting themselves.”
“Did they kill the Indian?”
“Nope. Seems like he ran off and they took after him.”
“And that’s it?”
Nils shrugged and rolled himself a cigarette using the tobacco from the pouch he carried at his waist. “No one said anything about anything else, Lance. This is the back of beyond and that’s no doubt.”
“That’s about the sum of it,” put in Mitch. “It might be an idea to follow the Indian. If he is heading across country, there might be a chance he could meet up with Reuben.”
“And those chancers racing up behind? Is that what you think, Mitch?”
“It’s all we got, Lance.”
“If what you’re saying is true then young Reuben is in a whole ocean of trouble.”
“Could be.”
“Then we ride. And we ride now.”
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