Wellington's Quest by Robert F. Clifton (feel good fiction books .TXT) 📖

“Give me two hundred rounds”.

“I want you to know that they come with copper casings. Keep them clean or your rifle will jam”.

“Two hundred rounds”, said Jim again.

“No problem, anything else sir?”

“Yes, I need a mule and a woman's dress and I know that you don't have either. Do you know if any of those pilgrims out there want to sell anything for cash money?”, asked Jim.

“Matter of fact I did hear of such a family. Their name's Collins. Ask around.

“I'll do that. Now, let me settle my bill. If you don't mind, I'd like to leave my things here until I find a mule. That way I can pack and leave.”

“No problem”.

“Good, by the way is there any news on how the war is going?”, asked Jim.

“Last I heard, Sherman burned Atlanta”, the sutler answered.

It took awhile as Jim asked person after person if they knew a family named, Collins. Finally, when he was just about to give up he saw a young woman about the size of Kathleen. Jim walked up to her, removed his hat, introduced himself and told her of his plight. Ten minutes later and two dollars paid he carried a blue and white, checked, gingham dress back to where Kathleen sat on a bench wrapped in a blanket.

As she dressed behind the canvas curtain, she said, “Now, don't you go and look at me James, unless you intend to be perfectly honest. It's been nearly two years since I've worn anything but a deer skin dress. Right now, it don't feel right. No stockings, no pantaloons, or corset.”

“We'll go back to the sutler's store. I saw a set of long john's just about your size. Seems to me that most of the woman out here wear them. So, you'll be right in style, plus your bottom will be nice and warm”.

“James Wellington, you're not to speak to a girl about her bottom'.

“Sorry, just trying to explain

Kathleen came out from behind the curtain. “Well, how do I look”?, she asked.

Jim smiled. “You look beautiful. All you need now is a ribbon in your hair. And, shoes of course, but once again, there aren't any shoes here”.

“I'll keep my moccasins. I made them, besides I really don't look forward to wearing high button shoes. As far as a ribbon in my hair, well, I'm just glad to be rid of the lice', she said.

“Alright, go to the sutler, get what you need, like a comb and brush and anything else the suits your fancy. While you're doing that I'll be shopping for a mule. Then, when that's over I'll meet you at the store”.

Jim walked slowly along the rails of the pens holding the livestock of the emigrants. One pen held horses and mules, another held a few oxen. Placing one foot on the bottom rail he leaned on the fence and looked over the mules. As he did he heard a voice behind him say,” Looking to buy an animal?”

Turning, Jim saw a tall, thin, man about forty years old. He had a chewing tobacco stained beard and wore his pant legs tucked inside his boots. “Yes, I'm in the market for a mule. Do you know anyone that has one for sale?”, he asked.

“Yep, me. Got three of them. Two jenny’s and a jack. Now, I'll be telling ya that the jack is one cantankerous, son of a bitch if there ever was one. You'd be doin me a favor by takin him off of my hands for, say twenty dollars”.

Jim smiled. “How about I take a look at him first, then we'll talk price”.

“Fair enough. Wait till I get a rope on him”.

Watching the man rope the mule Jim took a long, good look at the animal. The man was right, the mule was stubborn, but then again most mules were. Finally, the mule stood quietly by the rail. Jim jumped down from the top rail and walked up to the jack. He checked the eyes, the teeth noticing that the mule was young. Next, he examined the withers. Satisfied he turned to the man and said, “Why so cheap? Is there something else I should know?”

“Nope. Like I said, he be one mean bastard. I've sold him three times and for much more than twenty dollars. Each time he were brought back. Twenty dollars and he's yourn”.

“Draw up the bill of sale”, said Jim handing the man a twenty dollar gold piece.

That night Jim and Kathleen sat by the cook fire about fifty yards west of the fort's main gate. “When will you be leaving>”, she asked.

“In the morning, about sun up”, he answered.

“They say the army is taking us back to Minnesota some time next week”.

“Good, get out of this land and rid yourself of all the bad memories”.

“I'll try, but there are things it seems that will never go away. Being used constantly by Wambleesha. That was his name you know. It means, White Eagle. He used me and kept me captive until he knew I was pregnant. Then, he took another wife. A Sioux.

The birth of Tika was hard. The tribe mid wives refused to attend me, so I gave birth to my daughter alone, by myself. I gave her a Christian name, Sara. I didn't want her. Still, I gave her life. I was her mother until this war took her away from me. Maybe it's God's way, taking her and setting me free. Now, I'll be going back to where I saw my family killed and my home burnt to the ground. So, I ask you Jim, how do you rid yourself of those memories?”

“I don't know Kathleen. I don't know. Here, I want you to have this just in case you need it. It isn't much, only a hundred dollars. It should last you until you get to Mankato', he said handing her five, twenty dollar gold pieces.

“Thank you James. Thank you for everything, especially for understanding”.

“You're welcome. Now, go. It's getting late and they'll be closing the main gate.

They both stood up and when they did Kathleen raised up on her tip toes and kissed Jim on the cheek. In the light of the fire he saw tear drops well in her eyes.

Chapter Eleven

The Village Of The Dakota

In the heat of august, 1864, Jim rode again on and across the grassland of the Dakota Territory. However, this time he rode alone. The captured Sioux, paint pony had accepted him and the mule, although at times stubborn presented no real problems. With a lack of rain the ever present tall, yellow wheat grass was turning brown. At times prairie chickens took flight in front of him, flying short distances only to take flight again as he headed towards them once more. There were times when he dozed off in the saddle and would be wakened by the sound of beating wings and ruffling feathers.

The sun beat down on him and to concentrate on something other than his discomfort he closed his eyes and thought of her. His Virginia.” The last time I saw her, her hair gleamed in the sunlight. She tied that blue ribbon bow from the candy box in her hair and smiled at me. The last time I saw her I wanted to kiss the sweet lips that were soft, like rose petals. The last time she laughed with me she gave me a gift of love and joy. When I heard the church bells ring each Sunday morning it meant that I would be with her soon that day. The last time I held her hand and held her in my arms, it was like god blessed the ground that she walked on. But, that seems so long ago now”.

Suddenly, the paint stopped walking, bringing Jim back to reality. He soon saw why. Ahead of him in the yellow-green grass he saw the decaying body of what was once a Lakota warrior. Jim dismounted and walked with the soft, summer breeze at his back, examined the remains.

After studying the dead man's body Jim came to the opinion that the warrior had received a mortal wound and only got this far before he died.

In all probability, the Lakota man was wounded while he was alone. Had he been with others they would have taken him back to relatives. The condition of the body made it impossible to tell if he had been shot with a gun or pierced with a lance or arrow,

Back in the saddle he watched the land change from grassland to bad land. He saw before him the black, gray, and tan, rocky hills and knolls. At those places the grass was green, but the rocky soil produced no wild flowers. He urged the paint forward and as the land was flat both the horse and mule moved across the hill surrounded prairie traveling for miles. He began looking for water knowing that the horse and mule would need it soon. At that moment he was alright, after deliberately abstaining from drinking from his canteen. Then, he saw a place ahead of him where the blue sky reflected off of a seep and he rode to it and dismounted.

He allowed the animals to drink their fill and when they were finished noticed that they wanted to eat the tender green grass that grew around the flow. As they ate he knelt down, removed his neckerchief and placed it in the water. Then, with the wet cloth he washed his face, removing the sweat, dust and dirt, and did the same to the back of his neck. When he stood he replaced the neckerchief to its original place, enjoying the coolness of the cloth.

From now on he had to be more vigilant, more alert. The tribes had been forced into this area by the advancing troops of Sibley and Sully’s artillery . Many Sioux had scattered. Now, here in the badlands they could be anywhere, on top of or around the next hill or rocky knoll. He removed the Colt revolver from the holster and checked it, masking sure that the caps and balls were in place. They were.

Shielding his eyes from the sun he looked up into the heavens and determined in his mind that he had three or four more hours of daylight left in which to travel and he mounted the paint again. The mule resisted, but eventually began to move.

An hour later he left the yellow-green grass and entered tall, brown grass that grew on the prairie, a place where dry, tan rock formations jutted up out of the ground. For awhile it was difficult going for the horse and mule, then Jim realized that the grass grew shorter near the rocky hummocks and he rode to where they were. As the sun began to set he began looking for a place to stop and camp for the night. Sioux or no Sioux, tonight he would have a fire, hot food and coffee.

Later, finding what he thought was a good place to camp, although it lacked water, he dismounted. Leading the animals into the shelter between two large boulders he tethered them to ragged rocks jutting out of the ground. He unsaddled the horse and unpacked the mule, then spent the next hour rubbing them both down with dry grass. Dry brown grass or yellow-green grass, that's all the badlands offered. As far as he could see as he gazed upon the landscape there were no signs of trees, alive or dead. The buffalo did not range here so there were no buffalo chips he could use in place of firewood. He would need to burn grass for his cooking fire. Knowing that the flames would consume the fuel quickly he gathered arm fulls of prairie growth and piled it next to the fire pit he had dug in the soil.

Jim managed to cook with one hand and feed the fire with the other. When he was finished eating he found a comfortable spot