Chapter 20

Mr. Hollister rode into Omaha with Tom. They first went to the town marshal’s office to see if he had seen a one armed man around town. The marshal said he hadn’t and asked two of his deputies that sat there if the had seen a one armed man in town lately.

Both men said they hadn’t. When Tom and Mr. Hollister left for the telegraph office, one deputy turned to the other.

“You know, we hardly ever see injun’s here any more, that tall one that just left makes the second one I’ve seen in the last two days.”

“I saw that other one you’re talkin’ bout too. He was riding a Paint horse and was with a big white man with a heavy coat on. I remember thinkin’ why would a man be wearin’ a heavy coat in this warm air.”

“Yep, that must have been the same one. I didn’t see anyone with him, but did see the injun on the Paint. He had one feather braided into his hair on the side of his head.”

“Yep, same one.”

At the railroad station, Mr. Hollister sent a telegraph message to Sheriff Keyes in Newton. He told Tom that it could be a while before they heard back. If the sheriff was out of his office, they would have to either find him or leave the message in his office for him to find.

Tom wanted to get away, he was tired of being around people. He needed to ride out on the open plains and be alone. He needed to sit as the chiefs and medicine men did and think this out. His thoughts were all tangled up and running into each other as he tried to think WHY.

Mr. Hollister left Tom at the station and rode back to the ranch. He sat in the shade of the train station, his horse standing next to him.

He took out his flute and played it soft and sweet as he sat thinking of the days past when he and Sally Mae had traveled together. The times they laughed and the times they made love. His heart was heavy and his mind was hard. He made a vow to kill whoever it was that took her life.

Tom let his mind wander back to last night and this morning. He knew Sally Mae was alive this morning when he got up, she rolled over when he got up from the bedroll. He should have stayed with her, she would be alive now.

Tom shook his head, he needed to stop this, there was a killer out there and he intended to find him. There was something nagging his thoughts about this morning, he kept thinking back to the camp and what he saw. It was all a blur now, he couldn’t make sense of his thoughts.

Tom decided to ride back down to the lake when he got an answer from Sheriff Keyes.

Tom’s mind was in a whirlwind of thoughts, he closed his eyes and tried to make it all go away for a minute so he could think straight. Tom felt the hand on his shoulder and jumped sideways with his Colt in his hand.

The telegraph operator jumped back away from him, scared the injun was gonna shoot.

“Injun, here’s the telegraph message you were waiting on. You want me to read it to you?”

Tom snatched the paper from his hand.

‘Tom Cooper Omaha, Nebraska stop

Sam Wilson and Bo released by judge stop

Charges dropped stop

Sentenced to time served stop

Sheriff F. Keyes Newton, Nebraska stop

Tom read the message over and over. Now he was sure that Sam Wilson and his friend Bo were to blame for Sally Mae’s death.

Tom thanked the telegraph operator and swung to his big horse.

Never before had he ridden this way. Not the day of the races at Dale Canady’s, not the days he rode wildly across the plains. Never before.

Tom dug the heels of his moccasins in the big horses’ flanks and felt him stretch out in long strides. Out on the open trail he bumped his heels against him again and the horse responded with another burst of speed.

After letting him run for miles like this, Tom reached up and patted his horse on the neck and he slowed to a fast lope as they raced back south to the campsite by the lake.

The trees and the bushes along the road were but a blur in Tom’s eyes as his mind was already at the lake. He was searching in his mind for what it was that he saw, but couldn’t recall.

Tom slid from the saddle in a run as they slowed at the sandy bank of the lake. He walked slowly to the place where his bedroll had been, there the sand was smooth and packed from the weight of his and Sally Mae’s bodies. Tom walked lightly around the camp, looking for any sign the two of them didn’t cause or leave behind in their stay here.

His eyes welled up in tears as he pictured the body of his friend lying there in the cold bedroll. Shaking his head, he walked a wider circle. He came to some small bushes a few feet from the spot where they had slept. Tom looked closely around and under the bushes.

There it was, there was a footprint in the soft sand, and he saw more where the person had walked closer to the bedroll. Tom saw a hand print in the sand just in front of two footprints that were deeper than the others. This must have been where they crouched down to look the camp over. He noticed something else, a small hollowed out place in the sand. Tom squatted and looked at this strange shallow hole.

He walked around to stand beside the foot prints, not wanting to disturb them until he knew what had happened here. Squatting down in the same manner as the footprints, feet apart, he leaned forward, putting his left hand in the sand with fingers spread.

The other mark in the sand was about two feet from the handprint. Was that a knee that pressed here? Too small, maybe the person had stepped forward with the toe of his right boot then stepped back. Tom wasn’t sure, he decided to go look at the place where he found his horse.

Tom walked out to the place where the grass was still pressed to the ground, he could see where his horse had pawed with his front feet to try and get his front legs under himself. He picked up the bolo and looked it over. It had some markings on the braided leather strap, but they were faded as if from use and age. He would keep it in case something came up later. He looked around the place in a wider circle.

Tom saw a place where someone stood with a horse. Was this where the person first dismounted?

He looked closer, the footprints were also in the sandy soil near another bush. MOCCASINS.

Who would be here in moccasins, he had not walked out here when he’d freed his horse. Tom stood staring at the signs he had found, trying to put them together.

His horse walked over to the bushes, sniffed and put his nose on the air with his lips twisted and working like crazy. He smelled a mare here. This was the way they had gotten his horse out of the way, they had brought a mare in heat out here.

His stud just followed his male instincts and walked into a trap. They had stood to one side of where the mare had been tied, and threw the bolo at the studs’ front feet, once he stumbled they wrapped his hind legs quickly to keep him from getting up again. He would have died here on the ground if Tom hadn’t freed him when he did.

Tom walked with his horse back to the campsite once more. It hurt him to see this place now, but he had to be sure of what he had seen. He looked all of it over again and again, then he walked back over to where the bedroll had been laid out. There next to where the edge of the bedroll had been he saw the same mark in the sand again. What had made it, was it a large stick of some kind?

Tom sat on the ground near where Sally Mae had died, he played the flute as he felt her spirit in the air. The sounds drifted out over the waters of the lake, the sounds of the birds and the wind stopped now. The soft crying sounds that came from the flute were alone in the still air. The sounds of the nature were silent as Tom played the sad music that told of his young friend’s death. Tears ran down Tom’s face onto the flute. Now the flute cried softly out across the waters of big lake to touch a friend’s soul.

Looking the site over once again he walked out to his horse and swung to the saddle. Tom let his big horse set his own pace back to Omaha. They made good time and he went straight to the marshal’s office. The marshal was gone for the day but one of the deputies that had been here earlier was on duty.

“I remember you Injun, you were here with Mr. Hollister today,” He said.

“Yes deputy I was, we were asking about a one armed man and no one had seen one lately. I have another question. Did you see another Indian here in the last two or three days?”

“Sure did Injun, my buddy and I were talking after you left, that we don’t get many here anymore, and you were the second one to be here this week.”

“Tell me what did he look like, other than being an Indian?”

“He wasn’t near as tall as you, he wore moccasins and leather breeches like you. He had one feather braided into his hair on the left side of his head. He wore a hand gun but not a fancy rig like you got. He wore a beaded headband too.”

“Was there anyone with him?”

“I’m not sure, there was a man on horse back near him.”

“When was the last time you saw this Indian?”

“Not long before you and Mr. Hollister came into town, that would have been about noon I reckon.”

“Thanks deputy, you’ve been a big help.”

Tom walked out of the marshal’s office and his horse perked his ears up. He had already swung to the saddle and was about to ride off when the deputy came out the door and waved for him to stop.

“My friend told me this morning that he saw the injun and there was a big man with him wearing a heavy coat, if that helps any.”

“Sure deputy, that makes sense to me now. You said you saw him earlier today, was he here in town?”

“He was riding west as I was coming on duty this morning.”

“Deputy you need to run for marshal, you got a good eye for detail,” Tom said and waved as he rode out of town headed west.

‘That makes me think that maybe Sam Wilson was here, maybe he was the big man the deputy was talking about. Maybe he hired the Indian to find me.’ Tom thought as he rode west.

He came to the last streetlamp and stopped under it. Tom pulled the map out of his saddlebag and under the dim light of the lamp, he looked to see what town would they have ridden to.

‘They could have been headed for Lincoln, or they could have swung to the south and over to Topeka.’

Tom swung his horse to the south and rode out of town. He was thinking that if he were gonna get away from something he would ride out to where people were less likely to notice strangers. Topeka was on his way down to Wichita anyway, and from there he could ride over to Dodge City and see the trail herds come in. Tom made a cold camp that night out in the open plains with no trees or anything close by. There was lightning in the southwest were he was headed, probably be raining by morning.

He woke up in a sweat, he had been dreaming of Sally Mae and those who took her life. Lightning was flashing nearer and he called his horse. He figured he’d just as soon be riding in the rain instead of just sitting here in it. Cutting across at an angle, Tom caught sight of the rutted trail in the gray predawn and the flashes of lightning. He let his horse pick his gait in the nearly dark of the approaching storm. Lightning flashed and struck the ground nearby. Thunder boomed, then rolled across the flat plains. Tom was straining his eyes for some kind of cover as the storm was bearing down on him.

Tom caught sight of some trees outlined in a flash of lightning, he raced his horse to them, hoping there was a creek bed. The thunder was almost a constant roar and the rain came, blowing in a straight line against his face. There was a small creek ahead and though it wasn’t much protection, he rode down into the creek bed. The roar was deafening now and the rains came with such force the drops stung his face and hands. Tom knew there was no railroad nearby, but the roar sounded like a fast moving train coming right at him.

In the flash of lightening Tom saw a long black tail of the twister drop down out of the dark clouds and drag across the ground, sweeping back and forth like it was sniffing out something, as it raged across the earth in the early morning. He slid to the ground and grabbed his horses leg making him lay down against the small bank of the creek. There were two trees just up the bank from him and in the flashes of light he could see the tops bent over in the wind.

The roar came louder, shaking the very air he was breathing. The ground beneath him felt like it was shaking in fear as the violent storm stomped the earth around him. Tom saw the trees leave the earth in a helpless tumble as they were uprooted by the wind and flew across the creek. He lay beside his horse, his arms around his big neck. He could feel the muscles in the big horses neck quiver and jerk as the lightning flashed all around them. The hail came now, large hailstones half the size of his fist. He moved around to lean over his horses head and protect his eyes and head from the hail. The hail was pelting his back, beating and scratching him as it hit the side of his face and arms

It was over. The black storm cloud raged on to the northeast, all that was left was light rain and still air.

Tom nudged his horse and he stood up, they both looked around to see a beaten and battered path of destruction where the storm had passed. He walked up the low bank of the creek and his horse followed, he checked him over for any cuts and scrapes. His horse shook his head and then his whole body as if shaking off the feeling of fear. Tom swung to his back and headed for the trail again. The ruts were filled with rainwater and he rode to the side of the ruts. He looked in the distance and saw a small calf standing as if in a daze.

He saw small trees and limbs from large trees all across the land. There were boards from barns and rails from fences scattered all around. He saw part of a wagon ahead and rode over to look. The wagon had no wheels and was lying upside down on a horse. The horse was trying to get up and Tom was about to help, then he saw the fence rail driven through his ribs. Blood was coming in bubbles from the horses’ nose as he rolled his big eyes up at Tom.

Tom pulled his Henry out and shot him between his eyes.

The air was still now and the only sound was the distant rumble of the storm moving away, the crack of the rifle shot seemed to go on forever.

Riding south on the muddy trail and saw more and more of the scattered remains of a homestead. In the distance he saw what looked like part of a barn and part of a chimney still standing. He turned to ride over and take a look. He saw at least a dozen dead chickens scattered across the field. There was a black and white dog hanging lifeless from the broken limbs of a tree.