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

would take him back to Minnesota. South from where he stood was the Missouri

River, a place he wanted to avoid. Army patrols and civilian woodcutters and ice cutters would inquire about the dead body of Matosapa strapped to the travois. He was in no mood to have his journey interrupted when he had to stop and explain. Nonetheless, the river he wanted to find was the Minnesota River. Once he found that, all he had to do was follow its course all the way to Mankato.

During the next two weeks, there were times when he went hungry. Several times he saw small herds of wild horses pawing at the snow, breaking through the frozen crust in order to reach the vegetation underneath. Often and needing a rest he allowed his animals to do the same. Still, he could see that the horses and mule were loosing weight due to a lack of fodder. What little game he came across consisted of an occasional rabbit or a prairie chicken that came out of the snow where it used to keep itself warm.

Two weeks later, he traveled on a foggy morning. Peering through the mist he could only see ahead about twenty yards. Then, he heard something. He stopped the paint. When he did the chestnut and mule did the same. He listened carefully. Then he heard it, the sound of moving water. Nudging the paint forward he rode carefully through the haze. Then, he stopped again. As the sun broke through the fog lifted and he saw that he was on the west bank of the Minnesota River. He was almost home. To his left, about a hundred yards away a small flock of wild ducks were feeding on wild rice. Jim climbed down from the saddle and walked to the waters edge. There, on the river banks the rice grass grew. The seeds of the plant had dropped to the ground. Jim removed his hat then bent down and began picking up the seeds placing them inside his felt hat. As he did the ducks flew away, protesting and sounding an alarm.

Hungry, he decided to stay where he was and camp through the night resting both the animals and himself. He built a fire with some difficulty as the scattered wood he found was damp from the fog. With river water in his pot he boiled the wild rice. When it was finished cooking he dug into the completed meal using his spoon, enjoying the taste of real food that he hadn't had in days.

On a cold, winter, Monday, morning Jim rode down the middle of the main street of Mankato. Men going to work and women shopping stopped and looked at the sight of a man with a dirty beard wearing a grimy, buffalo robe overcoat. The unkempt stranger was riding an Indian pony and a mule and chestnut followed behind him. What raised their curiosity and made them stare was what appeared to be a wrapped corpse tied to a travois being pulled by the chestnut. A crowd formed and began to follow the man on horseback.

As he rode, he looked at both sides of the street. Even though he had been away for a few years it appeared that nothing in the town had really changed. The same stores were open and doing business. People still went to the banks on Monday mornings to either deposit or withdraw money from their accounts. Snow banks created by shopkeepers who shoveled the snow off of the wooden sidewalk in front of their stores and offices still waited for the spring melt for it to disappear.

He reined up in front of the office of the County Sheriff. After dismounting he walked to the rear of the chestnut and released the travois from the horse. Those people who had followed him and created a crowd backed away and moved, giving him room to maneuver. When they did Jim muscled the loaded travois from the street, onto the sidewalk and propped the dead Dakota's body against the outside wall of the Sheriff's office. When he did the Sheriff came rushing outside, saying. “What in the name that's holy is going on here?”

Jim reached inside his dirty overcoat and removed the warrant. “I want you to know that the warrant for the arrest of Matosapa, also know and Black Bear has been served. The warrant stipulated, dead or alive. He resisted arrest by attacking me and as a result he is brought back dead. That was his choice. Not mine,”said Jim as he handed the dirty, stained piece of paper to the Sheriff.

A loud murmur went through the crowd of on lookers.

“He's the one that started the revolt!”, someone shouted.

“My farm was burnt to the ground because of that lousy bastard”, shouted another.

“Watch you language. There are women and children here”, someone scolded.

“Jim! Jim! Someone called to him. He turned and searched the crowd with his eyes and eventually found Sidney Tozer. Jim left the sidewalk stepping down into the street and when he did he was met by his friend and lawyer. “Damn it Jim, we more or less gave up on you. Not hearing from you we actually thought you were dead,” said Tozer as he shook Jim's hand.

“Not hardly, still alive and right now in need of a hot cup of coffee”, Jim replied.

“Certainly, let's get out of the cold. We'll go to my office. I'll send my clerk for the coffee. There are many things we have to discuss. I'll send a telegram to Milford. I'm certain he'll be on the next riverboat coming down from St. Paul.”

“How is he”, asked Jim.

“The same, maybe a little richer. Who can tell? All I know is that as one of his many lawyers, everything he invests in is profitable'.

When they entered Tozer's office the wood stove was generating a lot of heat. Jim removed the filthy buffalo overcoat. When he did he saw the disgusted look in Sydney’s eyes when he looked at the filthy, dirty and stained buckskins Jim wore. “Don't get too close Sidney. I smell worse than a pole cat.”

“I don't know what to say Jim. Did you find her? Did you find your Virginia?”

Jim hesitated before he answered. “She's gone Sidney. Virginia is dead.”

“Oh, I am so sorry Jim”.

“Thank you. Now how about that cup of coffee?”, Jim replied in a low and sad voice.

To change the subject Jim asked about the war. “How is the rebellion going?

“It's almost over. The South is on its knees. Grant wins every battle now. However, he's taking a lot of casualties.”

“Stupid. War is stupid, whether it's the fight down there in the South or out on the plains against the Indians. It is stupid. Just another case of man killing man”.

Tozer nodded his head in agreement. “Now that you're home, what are your plans?”, he asked.

“Do I still have a room at Milfords house here in Mankato?”

“Of course”.

“Is the same staff there?”

“Yes”.

“Well, if you could, send a runner to the house telling them that I'm back. And tell Ed to heat a lot of water and fill the bathtub. After that I want a long sleep. As for plans I don't have any at the moment. Right now I need transportation from the livery stable to the house. Can you give me a ride in your carriage?”

Tozer's clerk entered the office carrying a pot of hot, black coffee. He walked over to the pot belly, wood burning stove and placed the utensil on top of the heater, placed two cups on Tozer's desk and went to his own and sat down. When he did Sidney continued their conversation.

“Certainly, but in awhile. Sit, relax, enjoy your coffee. I'll go next door and telegraph Milford letting him know that you are here”, answered Sidney.

Two hours later Sidney Tozer stopped his horse drawn carriage in front of Milford Wilcox's Mankato home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

Opportunities

 

Jim stood shaking hands with Milford Wilcox. “Damn it Jim, I had you dead a dozen times. You look good. You have a weathered look about yourself, nice full beard. Of course it needs trimming and by the looks of you, you lost weight,” said Wilcox.

“Neither the army or the Dakota Sioux served mashed potatoes and gravy”, Jim replied with a smile.

“Come, let me hear about your adventures over a sniffer of good brandy. I heard that you have a Henry repeating rifle. Is that true”, asked Wilcox.

“Yes, yes I do”, Jim answered.

“Did you use it?”

“I shot wolves and deer with it”.

“How about the Colt revolver I gave you. Did you use that?”,asked Wilcox.

“Yes, unfortunately, yes. And, I'd rather not talk about it”.

Quickly changing the subject Wilcox asked, “What are your plans?”

“Right now, I don't have any. I'm not a farm boy any more Milford. As the saying goes, “I've Seen The Elephant”. After I rest up I'll ride out and look at what's left of the farm. I'll figure out what's it worth and put it up for sale. After that, I'll figure out where to go and how to rebuild my life”.

“The towns people consider you to be a great Indian fighter. You can write your own ticket if you go into politics”, Wilcox suggested.

“I don't know anything about politics”, Jim replied.

“You don't have to know anything about it. Simply pick a party, get its backing. Once you are elected, they'll tell you what to do. They'll tell you what laws they want created, what bills they want passed, and which one's they don't”, Wilcox explained.

“You know damn well, that I don't work like that”,Jim Responded.

“Of course I know. I'm just telling you what you could do now that you're back”, said Milford.

Ethel Bush entered the room. “Excuse me gentlemen, but I need to know what to do with those awful buckskins that are on the back porch”, she said.

“I told Ed to burn them. Tomorrow I'll have some other things I'll want destroyed. By the way. I don't want anyone in or near the pack I placed in the backyard,”said Jim.

“There must be something of great importance in that pack”, said Wilcox.

“Important to me. Just me”, Jim replied.

Sidney Tozer entered the house and gave his black, bowler hat to Harriet Aikens. He then entered the living room, walked over to Wilcox's whiskey cabinet and poured himself a brandy. Turning to Jim he said, “I have some good news for you. There was a five hundred dollar reward on the head of Matosapa. At first the county insisted on not paying, claiming you were under employ to the local government and just doing your job. Technically, they're right. However, here's the reward,” said Sidney as he handed Jim five, one hundred dollar banknotes.

“Paper? What happened to gold coin?', asked Jim.

“It's the war Jim. It's the war”, Wilcox said.

“Also the newspapers want you to meet with their artist's. They're planning to run a special feature about you. They want to know how you exactly killed Matosapa, said Sidney.

“Not interested. As for the reward, give it back. My pay was ten dollars a week, plus ten dollars a week for the use and care of my horse. That comes to five hundred and twenty dollars a year. Now, three times that comes to three thousand and one hundred dollars the county owes me”, said Jim.

“Bravo Jim, don't let them take advantage of you”, said Wilcox.

“They will resist that kind of expense Jim. What should I tell them?”, asked Sidney.

“Tell them that they're getting off easy. I'm not adding interest that I would have accumulated had my salary been deposited in the bank like it should have been. If, they don't pay me, I'll sue, adding the interest. You can also bring to their attention that since I'm being viewed as a local hero and Indian fighter the jury will probably be on my side', Jim explained.

“Ah, now you're getting smart. Capture the moment Jim. Take advantage of this opportunity of being a celebrity. While we are on the subject of