Lone Jack Kid: The Buffalo Hunt (The Lone Jack Kid Book 3) Read online

  THE LONE JACK KID

  BY

  JOE CORSO

  Jimmy Ringo: How come I’ve got to run into a squirt like you nearly every place I go these days? What are you trying to do? Show off for your friends?

  The Gunfighter 1950

  Also by Joe Corso

  Lone Jack Kid Series

  The Old Man and The King

  The Starlight Club Series

  The Revenge of John W

  The Time Portal Series

  Lafitte’s Treasure

  Flames of Fury Series

  The Comeback

  Tommy Topper and the Pixie Princess

  The Lone Jack Kid

  Book 3

  Joe Corso

  PUBLISHED BY CORSO BOOKS

  www.blackhorsepublishing.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  All Rights Reserved

  Black Horse Publishing

  www.blackhorsepublishing.com

  © 2014 by Joe Corso

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.

  All Rights Reserved

  THE LONE JACK KID BOOK 3

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  An Invitation to Book Clubs

  Chapter 1

  October 1871

  Fort Smith, Indian Territory

  Charlie sat in his rocking chair on his porch, sipping good whiskey and smoking a good cigar. He made a mental note to himself to buy another box of Cuban cigars the next time he went to town. He pondered how fate worked. Here he was back in Fort Smith, thinking of when he was on the trail of the three men who had bushwhacked him. He had stopped at this fort, which was now scheduled to be closed. Presently, it was operating with a skeleton crew of five hundred soldiers instead of its usual full contingent of fifteen hundred men. And now fate had brought him back here as the Indian Agent. No matter, he thought as he leaned back and watched the sun slowly sink below the horizon. He was reminded of the talks he had with Father Riccardo Sanchez when he was recovering from the wounds he received after he shot it out with four men by the fence that led to Virginia City. Nothing short of God’s hand could create the rainbow effect produced by the waning orb as it morphed into a kaleidoscopic multitude of colors. It was breathtaking to watch, and a privilege to be here nightly to experience this dazzling display of God’s palette. When the last of the sun disappeared, nighttime came suddenly and almost without warning.

  Although Charlie took his duties as Indian Agent seriously, he was getting that old traveling itch again. The days seemed to be getting longer and he longed to be on the trail. He corresponded with Percy once or twice a month to see how he was getting along. He and Janie were now the proud parents of a little girl they named Charlene in honor of Percy’s friendship with Charlie. Other than Percy and Ned Buntline, Charlie didn’t have any other close friends. Oh, he had a lot of acquaintances but no really true friends. But that wasn’t completely true either because he had his two Indian friends, Wild Eagle and Black Elk, whose company and counsel he enjoyed. During the past year and a half, he had spent a lot of time with his Indian friends. They were the anchor that kept him moored to the Indian Agency. If it wasn’t for them, Charlie would have been long gone. He went hunting with one or the other, and sometimes the three of them would venture into the wilderness, disappearing for a week or two at a time. The bond between the three men grew with each passing month. The two chiefs knew Charlie was looking out for them. They trusted him and he them. But Charlie was becoming disillusioned by President Grant’s appointees. Especially Grant’s Secretary of War, William W. Belknap, who Charlie thought was nothing more than an opportunistic criminal. He suspected Belknap of accepting bribes from companies that had procured licenses to trade on many Indian reservations.

  From Charlie’s personal interaction with the president, he found that Grant, although impeccably honest, had serious flaws as commander-in-chief. Not only was Grant honest, he was loyal to a fault with his friends. Grant believed that because he was honest, then all of his appointees were as honest as he was. Grant ran the government like he ran his army, and that was the problem. Instead of sending someone from the State Department to negotiate a treaty, he’d send one of his civil war officers whom he trusted implicitly. In 1869, Grant, rather than sending an official from the State Department, sent his private secretary, Orville E. Babcock, to negotiate a treaty annexation with Santo Domingo without consulting with his cabinet members. So when Charlie wrote Grant that he suspected Belknap was cheating the Indians, Grant refused to believe it. When Charlie received the letter from Grant on official White House stationery, he became frustrated not only with Grant, but his job and the direction of his life. He was itching to get away from the agency, so one morning, he saddled Sable and rode out to see his blood brother, Wild Eagle of the Kaw Indian nation.

  Wild Eagle was pleased to see him.

  “What brings my brother to the Kaw reservation?”

  Charlie dismounted and walked to Wild Eagle’s wigwam where he heard a baby crying. He saw Running Deer breast-feeding a new baby. She smiled when she saw her friend and motioned for him to sit down beside her husband.

  “Wild Eagle, you have another baby. A boy?” he asked.

  Wild Eagle beamed with pride.

  “Running Deer give me two fine boys. Become great chief someday.” He lowered his head for a moment then looked up at Charlie. “White man take our lands. We now forced to stay on reservation. We no longer free to follow the great buffalo herds. Buffalo all gone.”

  Charlie patted his friend gently on his arm. “Look at me, Wild Eagle. Let’s you and me go on a buffalo hunt. There are still buffalo left. We’ll find a herd and we’ll kill ourselves a great bull buffalo and eat, and we’ll bring the skin back for Running Deer to make a winter coat for herself and her baby; and if we’re lucky, we’ll get another skin so she can make a coat for you.”

  Wild Eagle’s eyes lit up. “We may be gone many moons, Charlie.”

  Charlie laughed. “So what. We’ll stay away as long as it takes to find our buffalo. What do you say? Do you want to come with me?”

  Wild Eagle stood, his eyes lit with anticipation. “I go with you.”

  He looked at Running Deer and asked her the question with his eyes.

  She smiled at him. “I will be fine, husband. Go with your friend
and bring me back a fine buffalo skin to make a robe for me and your son.”

  Wild Eagle rode alongside Charlie as they headed back to the Indian Agency. President Grant had assigned Edward Jenkins, a young cavalry lieutenant, as Charlie’s assistant to help him with his agency duties. The pressure of running an Indian Agency lessened tremendously with the addition of Lieutenant Jenkins. Upon his arrival, Charlie immediately delegated many of his daily duties to the young officer, who handled them with military efficiency, much to Charlie’s delight.

  They arrived at the agency late morning after spending the night camping and entertaining one another with stories of past deeds. Wild Eagle sat down in Charlie’s rocking chair on the porch while Charlie went into his office.

  “Excuse me, sir, but we received a dispatch from the president addressed to you.”

  The young officer was impressed that the president had taken the time to send a letter to his boss.

  “Excuse me, sir, but do you know the president?”

  Charlie took the letter and answered Jenkins as he was opening it. “Yes, me and the president know each other and yes… I guess you can say that we’re friends… but not socially,” Charlie was quick to add. “Hmm, the president wants me to go to meet the train in San Diego and escort Grand Duke Alexis of Russia to General Custer in Nebraska. The Grand Duke is expected to arrive in San Diego in October and this letter says I have to get the Grand Duke to Custer by January 13, 1872.”

  Charlie shifted his gaze from the letter to Lieutenant Jenkins.

  “You know that the Grand Duke’s father is Tsar Alexander II of Russia and, according to this letter, the Grand Duke would like to go on a buffalo hunt with Custer. He’s read a lot about him and thinks he’s our most famous soldier.”

  Charlie lifted an eyebrow. “Wow, would you look at this.”

  “What?” Jenkins, who was hanging on every word, asked excitedly. “Look at what, Mr. Longstreet?”

  “General Phil Sheridan is gonna be there too. He’s joining Custer and the Grand Duke on the hunt. This is getting more interesting with every sentence.”

  The lieutenant was waiting for Charlie to continue reading the letter out loud. It wasn’t every day that a soldier got a chance to listen to a letter from the president being read by his boss.

  “Is there any more to the letter, sir?”

  “What? Oh… Yes, there is. I forgot myself. Sorry. The president says that Buffalo Bill Cody is going to be employed as a guide and chief hunter. I’m to escort the grand duke to the North Platte in Nebraska, and once he’s safely there, I’m ordered to return to Fort Smith.”

  Charlie chuckled as he glanced at the next sentence.

  “You’re driving me crazy, sir. Stop laughing and finish reading the letter.”

  “They paid Chief Spotted Tail of the Brulé Sioux 1,000 pounds of tobacco to round up a buffalo herd. Well, that’s fine with me because now Wild Eagle and me won’t have to worry about locating a buffalo herd. It appears we’ll have a herd waiting for us when we get there.”

  Charlie walked out onto the porch and sat down on the stoop by Wild Eagle, who was enjoying his rocking chair.

  “Wild Eagle, our plans have changed. But I think they’ve changed for the better.”

  The Indian tilted his head. “How so, Charlie?”

  Charlie held up the letter from the president.

  “This letter is from the great white father. He asks that I travel to a place called San Diego and meet a very important man from across the sea. I was ordered by the president to meet him in San Diego and bring him safely to Nebraska to hunt buffalo with Generals Custer and Sheridan, and Buffalo Bill. As a special treat for their guest, President Grant has hired Spotted Tail, chief of the Brulé Sioux, to find a buffalo herd for the men to hunt. This should be a great adventure, Wild Eagle. One you can tell your children about. You’ll meet the great warrior Long Hair and another great warrior, General Sheridan.”

  Wild Eagle’s brow creased, thinking of the names his brother just mentioned.

  “Hmm. Yes, I have heard of Long Hair and the great warrior Sheridan. Yes! I will go with my brother and together we will hunt buffalo. Better if two go instead of just one because the journey is long and danger may follow.”

  Lieutenant Jenkins stepped out onto the porch, carrying a cup of coffee. “Excuse me, sir, but would either of you like a cup of coffee?”

  Both men said they didn’t.

  “When will you be leaving, Mr. Longstreet?”

  Charlie cringed and narrowed his eyes when he heard Lieutenant Jenkins refer to him as Mr. Longstreet. He never considered himself as a “sir” or “Mr.” He was just a farm boy, an ex-confederate soldier, and nothing more. It annoyed him when people fawned over him, whether because of his official position, or because they discovered he was the Lone Jack Kid.

  “Look, Lieutenant, I’m ordering you not to address me as ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Longstreet.’ From now on, you’ll address me as ‘Charlie’ and I’ll call you ‘Ed.’ It will make our lives so much easier. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes I do, sir. Er, eh… I mean, Charlie. Will you be leaving soon?”

  “Yes. Wild Eagle and I will be leaving tomorrow at daybreak.”

  Charlie wasn’t worried about the agency functioning while he was gone. He wasn’t alone any longer. His staff had grown considerably during the time he took over his Indian Agent duties. Besides him as the superintendent and Lieutenant Jenkins as his chief clerk, he now had an assistant clerk, a special clerk, a messenger, and a copyist, so he wasn’t worried about taking time off. In fact, this was his first trip away from the agency other than the time he spent visiting his Indian friends in some of the other tribes.

  When Lieutenant Jenkins walked back into the office, Charlie leaned closer to Wild Eagle to keep what he was about to say private.

  “I worry about my brother going on this trip, Wild Eagle.”

  “Why you worry, Charlie?”

  “I’m worried about white men. There are some who think all Indians are savages and they may not know the difference between a peaceful Indian and the ones who hate white people.”

  Wild Eagle coughed a hacking laugh. “They be right. I no like many white men either.”

  Charlie slapped his blood brother on the back, laughing. “No, I guess you don’t, but there are some men who won’t appreciate an Indian being friends with a white man and it could be dangerous for you.”

  Wild Eagle rose from his chair and faced Charlie, his hands on his hips and anger on his face. “Wild Eagle is a warrior. He fears no man. I go with you and we face danger together or we die together with no fear in our hearts.”

  Charlie smiled. “Amen to that, brother. We travel together and if we die, we die together.”

  Charlie pulled two cigars from his pocket and handed one to Wild Eagle, knowing that while his brother didn’t like coffee, he surely enjoyed his cigars.

  Chapter 2

  Charlie and Wild Eagle rode south along the old Butterfield stage route. Fort Smith was built on the upper northern part of the trail, close to the Arkansas River. Following the old stage route would take them from the tip of Arkansas, through Texas, New Mexico, and directly into California. The problem was bandits and renegade Indians. Charlie discovered the dangers the first time he used this route, following the men who attacked him in his camp while sleeping. He told Wild Eagle what happened to him on this road and the Indian nodded. He explained a little of the history of his people to Charlie as they loped along the dusty trail.

  “We Kaw originally lived in Ohio. Our people were farmers. We raised corn, squash, and beans. But during the warm months, we hunted much game. Then the white men came and we moved to the south bank of the Red River in Texas to get away from them. We were a peaceful tribe, but John Linney, our chief, helped the Mexicans in their war with the Comanche, who were our enemy.”

  “Why did your people leave Texas and settle down in the Territories?”

  “We wer
e promised land by Sam Houston, but it was never ratified. Instead, Texas paid the Kaw to move to Indian Territory. We left but we kept our traditions, our culture, and our ceremonies.”

  And now, Charlie thought, they have placed your people on reservations, and soon all your glorious traditions and ceremonies could be lost.

  Wild Eagle stopped and listened. “No good to stay on road. We travel different way. I know of Indian trail. We go that way.”

  Charlie looked around at what might have spooked Wild Eagle but didn’t see or hear anything. “What did you hear, Wild Eagle?”

  “We are being followed. Tonight, while we sleep, they come and kill us. Better to take trail I know and trap those that follow us.”

  “Can you tell how many there are?”

  “Four white men follow us. Come; we leave trail now.”

  Wild Eagle pulled the reins on his pony and loped slowly off the trail to his right, toward the Big Washita Mountains.

  “Longer this way but safer. I know trail good. We no get trapped. Instead, we trap hunters.”

  The two men traveled through sparse cottonwood trees and thick hickory for hours until Wild Eagle pulled off the narrow trail.

  “This way. Arroyo up ahead. We make camp there.”

  They traveled for another half hour until they came to a deep gully cut by an ancient, intermittent stream. They took shelter under an escarpment that separated two level, elevated areas from which they could easily see anyone tracking them without themselves being seen. Charlie walked over to the burro and began unloading the supplies. Then he unsaddled the horses and burro while Wild Eagle cut a branch from a tree and used it to brush away their trail. Then he prepared a fire, which he wouldn’t light yet. That would be done after they dealt with the four men. Charlie pulled out an object wrapped in a blanket that was part of the supplies on the burro and brought it to the campsite.