Chapter 4

I had a son! I looked down at his tiny face and marveled. Does Eyes was three-quarters white with auburn hair. It was too soon to tell but he looked like he’d end up being a dark blond.

Smiles a lot was grinning and a little girl of about four rushed out and straight into my arms. It was the girl from the raid on the village. She had nowhere else to go and Doe Eyes kept her. She’d been told all winter her father was returning and she took it to heart.

A young boy came out shyly. Smile’s son, he was a little over eight now and had decided since everyone else in the tipi had a father I was his too. Doe Eyes explained the whole dynamic to me later. Much later. Everyone but her and our son vacated the place for two days to let us get acquainted.

I watched later as the children tussled and played with the others and wondered what I was going to do.

Dark Horse was well on his way to being the right-hand man of his father-in-law. The War Chief consulted him on upcoming raids and he was a natural planner. Cottonwood looked like she was about to pop and Bluebird was about a month behind her. You couldn’t slap the grin off his face.

Skunk had found another wife for a total of four, considered a lucky number and exactly the right amount to have. His prowess with his weapons marked him as a top provider and he was a big man in the tribe.

Two days afterwards Skunk got thrown from a horse he was training and hit his head. He immediately went unconscious and didn’t wake up for three days. I thought he might die until on the third day his eyes popped his open and he grinned. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

He sat up. “Not bad. Usually, I’m out for a week.”

He told me that afternoon he thought it was from the wound that turned part of his hair white. “Bastard caught me with a hatchet. Mon Ami, I have never felt worse pain. Ever since, if I hit my head wrong, it puts me out for days. I’m usually a lot more careful. One of these days I might not wake up.”

I talked to a doctor friend about it thirty years later and he said it was most likely a skull fragment pressing on his brain. As long as it was stable he would be fine but if it got jiggled or pressed it would cause him to pass out as a natural defense to the overwhelming pain and stay unconscious until it went away.

I stayed for six weeks before I had to leave to meet the herd. Again I tried to get Doe Eyes to go with me and she refused. “One of these days I’m going to invoke my husbandly right and insist.”

She looked sad. “And on that day I will obey you. But for right now, let me raise our children in the way of the People. Our time is passing. Only the foolish, the delusional, the very old, and the very young don’t see it. The whites grow closer every day. When they overrun us nothing will be the same and on that day I will be ready to go. I think we may have a few more summers left to enjoy life as it should be. If things get bad I know you have plans in place and between Skunk and my brother we will survive.”

The aching sadness in her face swayed me. The baby had no idea I was leaving but the little girl and boy did and were inconsolable. I talked to Tall Spirit, a medicine man, and he set up a ceremony where I officially adopted both children. To pull it off I had to make Smiles a second wife. I had no intention of consummating the marriage but Doe Eyes was the one who sewed the flap shut with admonitions to do as good as I did with her our marriage night. Smiles was older and a little thicker but the woman knew her way around a blanket! Plus she was very talented with her mouth and seemed to enjoy sucking me to completion. She made me understand it would be the special thing we shared.

I was really surprised when Doe Eyes did me the next night. I’d never brought it up and she’d never offered but there was nothing like a little competition to bring out the extra effort. Between them I never slept through a whole night in all the time I was there. The last night I found them both in my robes and I was so exhausted I could just barely stay in the saddle the next morning.

Skunk and I took a trip into a new town and stocked up before I left making sure to include all the sewing supplies we could get our hands on. It was my mission that the tribe never feel hunger during the snows and that all of them were warm. I also made sure they had plenty of ammunition for their weapons. Might makes right among warring tribes and I wanted to make sure mine always had an edge.

Bluebird and Cottonwood had their children and they were both boys. Dark Horse was pleased as punch and his stock rose once again. A few more successful raids and he’d be a subchief for sure.

In a surprise to most of us, Tall Spirit had a vision and named Doe Eyes as the new Peace Chief. It was not uncommon to give the position to a ranking female and Doe Eyes fit the bill. Her primary responsibility was keeping the tribe out of a war they couldn’t win so she sat in on most of the plans the warriors concocted and vetoed many. Unless she was absolutely sure she didn’t put her seal of approval on anything.

Thanks to me she was a woman of substance and thanks to her new job she was a woman of power. Not bad for someone just barely out of her teens.

...

I met up with Juan Carlos and rode with the herd for a month. We stopped at a small town to resupply and force of habit made me check the telegraph office. I got a reply pretty quickly from the Pinkertons. There was a confirmed sighting and records indicated they were bound for New Orleans and maybe a steamboat ride up the river to stop at noted gambling towns, especially Natchez.

I was supposed to meet my brother there anyway so I decided to arrive early. I broke off from the cattle drive and went Southeast until I hit a town with a train station and booked passage to New Orleans. I had to change trains three times but I arrived less than a week after I got the message. I booked into a nice room in the French Quarter thinking it was near enough to the gambling dens I may get lucky and spot them, then took my black and rode out to the steam engine factory.

It was on the site of an old plantation and I could see the remains of a grand house as I rode up the carefully manicured road. I looked out at a field and realized it was being plowed by a steam tractor. It looked enormous to me and I stopped for a minute and watched. I didn’t even hear the carriage come up behind me on the smooth road before someone spoke.

“Quite a sight if you’re seeing it for the first time, is it not?”

I turned to see a man not much taller than Tex sitting on the seat, wearing an immaculate suit. His hair was mostly white but it was full and he sported waxed mustaches and a Van Dyke beard.

“It is indeed. If you could be so kind, would you direct me to the offices? I have an appointment with the managing director, Mr. Gaston Dupree.”

“And you must be the young gentleman from the Wyoming territories. I am Gaston Dupree and I am most pleased to meet you.”

I got off Blackie and shook his hand, giving him my full name but telling him I preferred to be called Rocky. He grinned. “Ah. Just so. You may call me Gaston, young man. Tie your mount to the back and we’ll ride up together.”

The drive was another half mile long before buildings hove into sight. There was a large frame structure that had to be the offices, and a huge cavernous building that had to easily be five hundred feet long, a hundred feet wide, and thirty feet high. Smoke was coming out the top in a series of chimneys and you could hear the cries of men and the clanging of metal.

“The foundry,” My host said. “You may tour it tomorrow if you like. First, come into my office and tell me what you have on your mind.”

We settled into very comfortable leather chairs and he poured us drinks from a crystal decanter. “Bourbon, from the distillery of a friend of mine in Tennessee. I was one of several who financed his startup and he’s been paid in full for many years but he still sends me a couple of cases a year, usually one of my favorites and something new he’s been working on. Should you ever get up that way I’ll furnish you with a letter of introduction. It would be well worth your time to tour his facility.”

It was some of the smoothest liquor I’d ever tasted. I grinned thinking what my father would think when he tasted it. I resolved to order ten cases to be delivered to the ranch with strict instructions to leave the boxes crated until I got home. That would drive him crazy no doubt.

We talked and I explained what I wanted. Something a little lighter in weight than what I had seen to be used in our potato fields and maybe other things like grain harvesting. He smiled and told me he’d been working on that exact thing to varying degrees of success. I left an hour later with a very good feeling.

Back at the hotel, I changed suits, going for something darker to suit the night and gently inquired where I might find a ‘gentleman’s quiet game of cards’. The concierge directed me to several high profile places and gave me a note of introduction on hotel stationery.

The first place was a club of quiet elegance. The men were friendly and I did play a little, losing fifty dollars before I said goodnight. This was definitely not the place Bradshaw would frequent.

The club the next night was a little less well-appointed but the men were friendly and joked as they played. I’d played enough at the end of tracks to think no one was cheating and I ended up the night eighty dollars ahead. I spent a good bit of my winnings buying rounds for the bar and got backslaps and handshakes when I left. That club would be about as high end as Bradshaw would get but no one remembered him playing there.

The venue the next night wasn’t a club. It was a bar in a less than desirable part of town held in the backroom. I had dressed down a little but they had pegged me right away and tried their mightiest to fleece me. I avoided most of their traps although I did blunder into enough to keep them guessing. I hit the jackpot when one started talking about a flashy guy from Chicago. “Big sucker with a little blonde woman. She’s a looker but a little too hard around the eyes for my taste. If you run into him watch out. He’s got the patter down and she’ll flash an ankle or bend over letting you get a glimpse of her cleavage and when you look up he’s got all the cards and you’re left holding the bag.”

They discussed the guy trying to look like fine upstanding citizens just interested in watching out for me. I waited until the night was almost over, watching carefully as the man tried to run the deck up. I’d caught him flicking a little finger, sliding a card off the bottom with ease. I don’t think they were working together although the two that were big winners always dropped out if the other raised.

He was about to deal when I stopped him. “That bottom card is bent. It won’t be long until we all know what it is. How about a new deck?”

They knew better than to refuse and I took the old deck and flipped it over, showing the King of Spades with a definite crease in it. There wasn’t time to get familiar with the new deck so it was a straight deal. I got pocket queens with a seven showing and bet. Two dropped out, two called and one raised. I just called. The next card up was a queen and I slow played it. The raiser bet and we all called. The next card was a seven making me a full house. I bet and everyone thought I had another seven in the hole. I still got three calls and a raise. I raised back and another caller dropped.

The next card was the fourth queen. Everyone assumed I had sevens full but I still got a call and a raise. The raiser had to have kings or aces full, maybe four of a kind but the odds of two four of a kind in one hand were astronomical. I called and raised again. He raised back and the last player folded leaving just me and the dealer.

I had two pair up and bet. We raised each other until we hit the limit. The gambler grinned and flipped up his cards and it was indeed a king-high full house. I pretended to be sad until I looked at my last card. I had deliberately not looked at it and I grinned, tossing the other two queens down. He was shocked beyond words but he had dealt it so he knew it was square.

It was the biggest pot of the night and I went on a hot streak. By the time the game broke up, I was nine hundred ahead. A pretty good haul, roughly the equivalent of three years wages for a cowboy. To their credit, they didn’t bitch or complain. Instead, they shook my hand and invited me back, sure they would get their money back into their pockets. I declined the invitation for the next night stating I had a pressing social engagement. The way I phrased it made them think it was a woman and when I declared I’d be back the night afterward we were all friends. Needless to say I never went back.

I did have a dinner engagement, with Mr. Dupree, his lovely wife, and several of his business partners and associates and their wives. The meal was excellent, the wine top notch, and the conversation lively. After a time the ladies retired to the parlor while the men gathered in the library. There was idle conversation until Mr. Dupree turned to me.

“What are you after, Rocky?”

“Sir?”

“For three nights you’ve been haunting gambling establishments, each progressively less gentlemanly. You do not strike me as a gambler, mon ami. More the hunter. Who or what are you looking for?”

Besides wanting to do business with this man I wanted his friendship so I told him and his three companions the whole story. When I mentioned the name Dan Bradshaw one of the gentlemen went red and rushed out of the room.

Gaston looked pretty stern and I thought maybe I’d made a mistake until he smiled. “Thank you for sharing that Rocky. I know the memories were unpleasant. Mr. Templeton(the man who rushed out)also has a vested interest in Mr. Bradshaw. If he finds him first your quest will be for nothing. Let me tell you the story.”

It was very familiar. Bradshaw had shown up flush, but he was dressed far better than his usual attire, was friendly with the men and polite and charming to the ladies. He gave his profession as a cotton merchant in town to seek new suppliers for the mills in Chicago.

“We fell for it,” said a man sitting to the left of Gaston. “It wasn’t until he was gone that we did a little research. At the time there were no cotton mills in Chicago. It was all a carefully constructed plan to scam us of thousands by investing in his nonexistent business. I got cheated out of five thousand, as were most of us in this room. Only Gaston held out saying he needed to do a bit more research. We should have followed his lead.”

Another spoke. “We should have listened to him. Still, while the loss hurt it wasn’t enough to make any difference in our lifestyles. Poor Templeton’s brother, though, he lost more than money.”

They all looked uncomfortable until Gaston spoke again. “Robert Templeton had a nice business and an attractive wife and Bradshaw tried to take both. He succeeded with the woman and if Robert hadn’t found out and confronted him he would probably have gotten the business too. As it was he was no match for Bradshaw and the man beat him so badly he crippled him and blinded him in one eye. The man is in a wheelchair and will never walk again.

Then Bradshaw and the wife grabbed everything they could of value and left him lying on the floor to die. He was supposed to go shooting the next day and when he didn’t show his brother went to check on him. He almost didn’t survive and often says he wished he hadn’t.

Reginald moved him into his home and arranged care for him. It took almost a year before he started coming back around. He started drinking and Reginald finally told his staff that the next one that got him a bottle would be dismissed without reference. When Robert sobered up he started doing the one thing he could still do. Make money. He’s quite wealthy now but still bitter and very few things give him pleasure. I shall arrange for you to meet him tomorrow so you can compare stories. I’m sure he’d like to work together for mutual benefit.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to share my hate but it might be worthwhile to compare notes. The talk turned to my wife. “When you find him, what of your woman?”

“She isn’t my woman anymore and looking back I’m not sure she ever was. She left me to die on two different floors and my thoughts towards her are not warm and friendly. I’ll most likely leave her where I find her regardless of her circumstance. I want her last vision of me to be my back as I walk away.”

That seemed harsh to a couple and lenient to others. We talked for another hour before the ladies came and collected their husbands. Gaston bid them goodnight and grinned. “Rocky, you will stay with me tonight. There are things yet to be discussed and I’d prefer to do it in private.”

“I wouldn’t want to...”

“Young man, you may shut that mouth now! It’s been a long time since there’s been anyone younger than a grandfather sleeping under this roof. The matter is closed.”

I looked at his wife, the tiny woman who was all sweetness and light moments before. She giggled and Gaston laughed. “Two things you should know about my wife. She ALWAYS gets what she wants and she doesn’t tolerate a lot of backtalk. Besides, she’s quite taken with you. Take it as a compliment, most of the younger generation here bore her to tears. She often tells me I should use my engineering degree to manufacture backbones, something she considers poorly lacking in this city. Now say yes ma’am.”

I bowed to her. “Yes ma’am.”

She giggled again. “A backbone and manners! I may never let you go. Now let’s all retire for the evening to digest our thoughts. I will see you at breakfast and you should know I do not tolerate tardiness. Seven O’clock. On the dot.”

“Yes ma’am.”

One of the servants showed me to my room and I wasn’t really surprised to see my luggage from the hotel stacked by the bed. I laid out the suit I intended to wear in the morning to relieve the wrinkles and turned in.

...

I woke up to giggles, disoriented. Opening my eyes I saw a very red-faced maid with her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry sir. I knocked and no one answered so I thought the room was unoccupied.”

I wondered why she was blushing until I looked down. I’d gotten into the habit of sleeping naked while I was with Doe Eyes and continued the practice. The sheet had slipped off somewhere during the night and there were no secrets in this bedroom.

She’d already gotten an eyeful so I stood. Her eyes got even bigger. “It’s quite all right, miss. I think, however, that this should be our little secret. Agreed?”

She flinched suddenly realizing she was staring before she found her voice and the door handle. “Agreed sir. When you’re dressed for the day I will return and tidy up.”

I thanked her and grinned as she shut the door, her eyes on my nethers the whole time. I believed she’d be quiet about this episode about as much as I believed it would snow today. In New Orleans. In late August.

Making myself presentable I made my appearance at breakfast. Mrs. Dupree(please call me Aunt Aggie)gave me an approving look for being on time. After breakfast, we adjourned to the factory to go over our plans for two small tractors. The price was steep but affordable and if our projections were correct they would pay for themselves in three seasons. We discussed what kind of accessories we may need including the design of a smooth bladed plow that looked a lot like a giant shovel, for harvesting potatoes.

Business done Gaston insisted we go to his club for lunch and I agreed knowing we were actually going to meet Robert Templeton.

My first opinion was of a man defeated. He was frail to the point of skin and bones with a large eyepatch prominent on his face. About the only time he got animated was when we were discussing Bradshaw.

“We’ve missed him once again. My men say he boarded a boat bound for Natchez and points North two days ago. I still cannot get over the fact that he had the nerve to return to New Orleans.”

“Was he traveling with a companion?”

“If you mean his blond whore she was along. This one must be more skilled than my wife. He dumped her in a whorehouse in Memphis after five months. As far as I know, she is still there.”

Gaston seemed surprised. “Have you thought about bringing her back?”

“No reason to. There’s plenty of whores here already. Besides, she stood there and laughed as he broke my back and gouged out my eye with his thumb. I think she’s getting what she deserves. Poetic justice and all that.”

He sighed and went quiet for a minute before he slid some papers to me. “Here. This is all I’ve managed to compile on the man and his movements and any other details my men could glean. He seems to be a creature of habit and works a loop. He’ll move on from Natchez, hit Memphis, travel to St. Louis, and then go either East to Baltimore, New York and some of the other major cities before dropping by his old haunts in Chicago and then head for the West Coast. It’s all in the papers. My only request is that if you do find him and have the opportunity you make his death as slow and lingering as possible. Also, there are others in the papers he’s wronged, stolen from, led their wives astray, both in many cases. It seems to give him pleasure. I’m sure those gentlemen will be more than willing to assist you in your quest. Several letters of introduction will be sent to you soon. I wish you the best of luck.”

He seemed exhausted so his attendant took him home. I looked at Gaston. “What will become of him?”

“He most likely will be dead in less than a year. He simply no longer wants to live. A shame, the man has a brilliant mind and was one of the best engineers I’ve ever met. We even discussed him joining me in my business.”

“You should press that. It might give him a reason to carry on. He could manage your office and even though he couldn’t get out and about much he can still sit at a drafting table.”

Gaston’s eyes were shining. “An excellent suggestion my young friend. Perhaps I’ll send him some drawings and ask if he’ll consult, looking them over for flaws and suggestions to make them better. I’ll ask it as a personal favor to appeal to his sense of honor.”

We ate the rest of the meal in silence and he surprised me yet again by taking me along a road seldom used until we appeared in front of an aging mansion. I figured it was for his business and it was if his business was me. There were four older gentlemen there and they were sitting in the parlor at a card table. “It has occurred to me if you are going to pursue this fellow into his environment that you need to know much about that environment. These gentlemen were the best card players of the last generation. All retired now, they live on their investments and look for things to keep them amused. In this case, it is you.”

He made the introductions and left me, saying he’d have my horse brought to me when I wished to leave. They eyed me with amusement until one man broke open a deck of cards. “Let’s play.”

We each started out with five hundred pennies and in forty-five minutes I was broke. They stopped and redistributed the coins and we started again. It only took half an hour until I was literally penniless again. The grinned. The oldest spoke.

“We cheated, Rocky. Every one of us. You may have suspected but you couldn’t see how. That is what we will teach you. How to spot a cheater, and more importantly how to outcheat him. Are you willing to learn?”

Of course, I was. I spent three to four hours a day with them for the rest of my visit and was often amazed and astounded at what they taught me. After about three weeks one asked me how well I fought. I’d learned my skills from my father and the crews at the end of tracks and thought I was pretty good. It didn’t take them long to disabuse me of that notion.

We traveled to a gym and I was surprised to see it was owned by one of the largest, blackest men I’d ever seen. He had a thick Creole accent but was friendly.

“So. Mister Braxton says you want to learn how to fight.”

I was still young enough to be offended. “I know how to fight.”

“Really? Then you wouldn’t mind sparring a few rounds with me, would you? I want you to make your best effort and not worry. I know how to defend myself.”

I agreed and soon we were in tights with leather headgear on. I’d never had occasion to use them but after two rounds I was very grateful I had one on.

Pierre was eight inches taller and had to outweigh me by eighty pounds. You could see his muscles but he had a slight roll around his stomach so I decided to attack the body. I also knew that with the reach advantage he expected me to close so I stayed outside, dancing in and out with jabs and hooks. I made contact but not as often as I hoped. He landed several good blows but I had the feeling he was pulling his punches.

I said as much when we stopped the round.

“I was a professional fighter for years. I do not wish to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry about that. I can defend myself and push comes to shove I can take a punch.”

He grinned. “As you wish.”

Three seconds into the third round I was flat on my back, out cold. He had just stood there with his hands down and I thought it a bit arrogant so I threw a huge right. I had no idea where the fist came from until it landed on the side of my head. I was out before I fell.

I woke to cool cloths on my head and one of my sponsors, a retired doctor was looking me over. “You’re going to have quite the headache for a few days. I suggest at least a week before you resume your training. Oh, and do be a bit more careful, all right?”

I agreed without reservation. Since I couldn’t fight, I listened to my trainer.

“You’re not bad. In an average scrap, you would probably do pretty well. But from what I understand the man you’re seeking is not average. I’ve fought a few of those types and they have one thing in common. An instinct to kill or maim. They will use every part of their body, head butts, teeth, feet, sharpened fingernails soaked in brine to toughen the nail and then file it to a point, any advantage they can find and they always tend to go for the soft and vulnerable parts first. The eyes, the throat, the ears, kidneys, kneecaps, groin, any spot that will disable and inflict maximum pain. There are no rules and if they get you down they will destroy you. Do you understand?”

I remembered the brass knuckles and nodded. “Good. Come around tomorrow and we’ll start your conditioning.”

I thought I was in pretty good shape until Pierre started training me. I was reduced to a quivering wreck every day for two weeks before developing stamina enough not to just collapse after a workout. Then he started teaching me the dirty tricks, the holds, the throws, the unexpected strikes designed to incapacitate. He talked about his boxing and bare knuckles career. He was a very good boxer and had toured the country twice and worked out of England doing the European circuit for almost two years. I recognized his professional name when he told me and I got the sense he hated it. The Black Bull of New Orleans. His first manager had cheated him horribly, but once he got free of him he started to prosper and had people around him that made sure he made wise investments. After Europe, he fought less and less until retiring for good and opening his gym. Many fighters both black and white were on a waiting list to train with him.

When I found out how successful he was my first question was would why he was wasting his time on me. He grinned. “Dr. Payton was one of my first backers after I got rid of my first agent. He often traveled with me as a cornerman, specializing in cuts. Then he became one of my financial advisors. Mr. DuPree was instrumental in freeing me from my old contract and he too took an interest in my financial well being. I usually don’t share this but the gymnasium is basically a hobby to keep people from being too interested in my finances. I own one cotton warehouse outright and have stakes in two others, a rice plantation, and two trading ships. They’re all handled by factors and registered as private corporations so their true ownership is next to impossible to find.”

I added it up later and Pierre was one of the most well to do men in town. He took a page from his mentors and invested in businesses that were mostly owned by blacks. One was a large store in a small parish in the backwaters of a bayou, another was in a horse farm where championship racers were bred and trained. There were others but he didn’t elaborate and I didn’t ask.

I asked him about his bare knuckles career and he grimaced. “It was profitable but I hated it with a passion. There were no rules and I could have had a career-ending injury all too easily. Look at this.”

Hed pulled his tight exercise shirt to the side and pointed. He had a nipple missing. “Bitten off in one of my first matches. I was winning fairly easily when he got me in a clinch. I was not expecting it and when he bit down with the tenacity of a pit bull I felt some of the worst pain in my life. He jumped back and spit the nipple in the dirt. I was in shock and he took advantage, knocking me cold. He was all set to put the boots to me but my handlers surrounded me.”