Murder at Medicine Lodge (19 page)

… things are not improved here, my darling. Yankees own everything now and taxes are exorbitant. We lost the town house as well as the big farmhouse to taxes and have been forced to take up residence in the overseer's house. As there isn't much of a farm left and as Daddy is unable to pay an overseer's wage, that man was obliged to go. I understand the poor soul is quite bitter, what with losing not only his income but the only roof over the heads of his wife and children, but these are grievous times. Daddy did only what he had to do. I am fearful that his protective intentions have run afoul on yet another front. Mama.

She declares those people turned the overseer's house into a sty. She says that's what comes of hiring layabouts. But with the war, Daddy found help where he could, even if that meant taking on men from the shanties. Even so, she says that they have turned a respectable home into a shanty, that no decent family will ever set foot over the threshold of a falling-to-ruin little shotgun house stuck out in the bottoms. She is distressed that her two daughters will never marry men of their station. Oh, but if she only knew she had only the one daughter to concern herself with, for one is married already, albeit in secret.

Daddy says that Mama should just be quiet and thank God that we're not all living in a tree like savages. They argue like that all the time now, Mama and Daddy, and hearing them just breaks my heart. Before the war they were so loving and considerate to one another, never did I hear them utter a harsh word. Our world has indeed come to a miserable end. None of this do I blame on you, so fear not in this regard. You are a man of strong principles, even though I do sometimes struggle to understand them, and unlike the vicious tongues of our mutual acquaintance, I do not believe you have brought shame to the illustrious Mosbey name.

I know you dearly wish to be home, my love, and my arms ache from want of you, but please do not do anything rash. Daddy still does not allow your name to be spoken and if you came home this very minute and confessed all, why, Daddy would shoot you through the heart and I would die just as surely as you. For a while longer we must forbear and bide in the surety that our hearts were meant to be so lovingly entwined.

Yours forever, loving you,

Opal-Marie

Following a significant pause, I said, “I'm afraid I still don't understand how these words cause all of you to believe this man is a spy.”

Hawwy became frustrated. Stanley studied me as if I were a talking bug. Billy sat down next to me, speaking earnestly, trying to help me understand.

“It was the name mentioned in the letter. Mosbey.”

I was still at a loss. Billy tried again.

“This man Mosbey—”

“John Singleton Mosbey,” Hawwy barked, distaste evident in his tone.

Billy frowned up at him, silently reminding him that interrupting a speaker was terrible manners. Hawwy looked away. Taking a deep breath, releasing it slowly, Billy continued.

“This man Mosbey is a famous Gray Jacket. A big war chief. He did a lot of damage to the Blue Jackets.”

“Good for him,” I chuckled. No one else was amused.

“In the letter,” Billy tried again, “the woman said she did not believe her lover brought shame to this war chief's name, meaning this unknown man and the war chief must be closely related.”

I completely understood that part. What continued to confuse me was the almighty rush to the conclusion that the love of Opal-Marie's life was a spy. I couldn't help but wonder if, while Stanley had been reading, Hawwy looking off into a middle distance, and Billy translating for my benefit, any of the three had actually concentrated on what was being said. There is a fine line between listening and hearing. In my heart, I couldn't believe that any of them had ventured to cross it.

I picked up the second watch, gazed sorrowfully at the picture of the young woman. Now, I believed I knew who she was. The only puzzle now was the identity of the man she loved and longed for. The next thing I picked up was the ring. The stone in the center of the ring was something I'd never seen before. It was a pale blue and it seemed to have stars in it. When I turned the ring in the light, those tiny stars seemed to burst. I found that so fascinating that I stared at the stone for a long time. Billy became entranced too, the two of us playing with that ring while Hawwy and Stanley went on the hunt for other incriminating letters. Well, they found more pay-paas, but those were exactly like the ones Mrs. Adams had read to me. Kneeling with his back to me, Hawwy threw those pay-paas aside.

“Wait!” I yelled. Quickly placing the ring and the two watches inside my carry pouch, I rattled to Billy that I would like those pay-paas read to me, too. None of the three were pleased.

And do you know, those pay-paas weren't anything like those Mrs. Adams had read to me. Stanley could not find one thing about a Mr. Babcock offering a reward for his missing mule. The only thing he found of interest was the Dallas search for parties unknown having accosted a Miss Mildred Tuttle, of “nefarious circumstance.”

“What does ‘knee-fah' mean?” I asked.

Stanley laughed. Hawwy blushed. Billy explained.

“It means a woman who gives herself for money.”

“Someone did not pay her?”

Billy chuckled.

“Is this a serious crime?”

Billy stopped chuckling, lapsing into deep thought. “It would depend,” he finally said. “Some of those women, no one would give any attention to. But when I was a child living on the streets of Dallas, I knew some of those kind of women who had become very rich. Those women could be scary. If anyone made them mad, they made a lot of trouble.”

“Could they make trouble for men in the army?”

Billy sounded a croaking laugh. “They could make even bigger trouble for someone they didn't like who was in the army.”

“How?”

Hawwy didn't know that much conversational Kiowa but he knew enough to convince him that he didn't much care for the current topic. Slapping his thighs, he left the tent. Not understanding our conversation at all, Stanley looked perplexed. Pausing to look from us to the exiting Hawwy, he made a quick decision and chose to follow Hawwy. With them gone, Billy felt more free to talk.

“Listen,” he said in a hissing whisper, “those powerful women do favors for the army.”

“What kind of favors?” I asked, keeping my voice just as low as his.

“They provide officers with just the kind of women they want. The officers wouldn't like for one of those women to be upset. They would do whatever they had to do to make her happy again.”

He looked away, waiting while I grappled to understand what he'd said. After a moment, that light dawned bright and clear. We have women like that, too. Admittedly, those women are captives, but for a nice present they don't seem to mind sharing a stolen moment or two with a needy unmarried man. Those women also have the power to say no. And when they do, those needy men have been known to offer them almost everything they own. Now I was hearing all about how army officers grovel before women.

Astonishing, really, how alike all men are.

Tucking this bit of information deep inside my brain, I went at Billy with another question. “Did you get that box open?”

“Not yet. It's a hard lock.”

“Then, quick, while we're alone, let's get it open.”

TWELVE

It took awhile, that lock was stubborn and Billy cut his finger on the knife blade during the struggle, but finally the lock gave and he pried the lid open. Seeing the contents of that box, our eyes bulged. That box was stuffed with money, with handfuls of it, Billy grabbing it out as fast as he could. I went for the letter he'd left lying at the bottom of the tin box. While Billy played with the bills, spreading them out on the cot, sorting them into piles, I took the letter. Folding it out, I saw that near the bottom was a shiny seal. Neither Billy nor I could read the letter, which decided me then and there that after I learned to speak English, I would learn to read it. But for now, there was nothing for it but to call back Hawwy … and Stanley.

“There are hundreds here!” Hawwy cried, more intent on the money spread out over the cot than on the pay-paas in my hand.

“Is that a lot?”

“It's a fortune.”

He began counting it, sifting through that money with such a greedy look in his eyes that he stubbornly refused to look away, pay any heed to the letter I repeatedly shoved under his nose. Then the letter was snatched away from me, my head following in a blurring motion. My vision cleared as Stanley, standing close to where I sat on the cot, began to read silently.

“Out loud,” I shouted to Billy. “Tell him to read out loud.”

Stanley did.

From the Office of Commissions

To Sergeant Graham Wakefield, Bugler,

Light Division

Sir:

As stated in reply to your initial query, upon receipt of three thousand Federal dollars, the rank of Second Lieutenant will, with haste, be conferred. Commissioning formalities unnecessarily plaguing your mind are once again as follows.

Once the booking of the commission fees is accomplished, orders will be forwarded to the newly commissioned superior officer, as will, of course, an issued statement from this office to the applicant extending our heartiest congratulations. In answer to your final question, all officers are indeed responsible for costs of rank insignia, uniform cloth, and tailoring.

Lieutenant Colonel Piedmont

“My God,” Hawwy muttered, sitting down heavily beside me. “He was doing it. He was actually buying himself a commission.” Then he looked at me with bare-faced amazement. “But how was he getting the money?”

“By keeping secrets,” I answered. I took one of the watches out of my carry pouch, opened the gold case and showed it to Hawwy. “Read this for me, please. Tell me what it means.”

He looked at it, his eyes bulging all over again. “Hicks!” he shouted, leaping to his feet as well as to the wrong conclusion. “Hicks is the spy!”

Sometimes Hawwy could be so dense I wanted to hurt him.

*   *   *

Hicks didn't want to talk. Wholly understandable, hemmed in as that rawboned man was by four nosy turkeys. Stanley worsened the situation by firing questions as he stood there, little writing pay-paas in one hand, pen in the other, nib poised to strike. Hicks looked hopefully at the only other army man in this jumble. Hawwy's jaws were locked tight, his eyes blazing. Unable to bare this unproductive tension a moment more, I grabbed hold of the sergeant's arm, pulling at him as I spoke to Billy. Once Hicks understood, I shouted at Hawwy.

“You stay here. And make sure you keep that little man with you.”

Billy and I led Hicks off. Away from an angry officer and a grilling newspaperman, the sergeant proved more forthcoming.

“I did not kill him. I wanted to, but I didn't.” He took out a cigar from a worn-looking tin case, bit off the end, spat it an impressive distance. Matches were also in the case. Hicks struck one on the heel of his boot and lit up. He was the kind of man who comfort–smoked, and judging from the reek of his jacket, he needed a lot of comforting.

Fanning blue smoke away from my face, I asked, “Why did you ask to go through the dead man's things?”

“Because he had something of mine.”

I pulled the watch out, held it up high by its chain. Hicks's eyes lit up, remained fastened on the dangling watch.

“This?”

Trying to be more considerate now, he blew smoke out of the side of his mouth as he nodded.

“It is worth a lot of money?”

“No. It's only valuable to me.”

“Why?”

“My father gave it to me. A year before he died.”

“How did Buug-lah come to have it?”

Hicks didn't want to answer. For a space of minutes he battled between the desire to have his property returned to him, and the necessity of giving up the information that would secure the return. To tempt him further, I caused the watch to swing, the sunlight glinting off the gold metal. By the third swing, desire won out.

“He was keeping it until I received my pay packet. According to him, I owed him twenty dollars.”

I swung the watch more. “Why?”

“It's all Cullen's fault!” a very frustrated Hicks hollered. “If I hadn't been with him that night in Dallas, Wakefield wouldn't have had anything on me. But because I couldn't prove I hadn't been with Cullen the whole of that night, it was just my word against his. I didn't have enough money so I had to give him my watch until I did.”

I took the man's hand, placed his watch in the palm. Tears began to shine in the eyes that looked at me so gratefully. He lowered his head.

“Thank you,” he murmured, lovingly caressing the watch case.

He was easy to lead now, and Billy and I led him to the shade of trees, the three of us being quiet for a time. “Tell me,” I said, breaking the silence, “what you know of that night in Dallas.”

Like a fountain he gushed forth.

“We were ordered to the Territory and given four days' leave in Dallas before the reassignment. Cullen liked to go to the expensive places, but I have a wife and a daughter who live back East. I have to send them money, so I can't afford to spend very much on myself. I went to an ordinary saloon and Cullen went to a better one. I'd promised to wait for him but he was taking a long time. I decided I didn't want to wait anymore so I set off for the stable to get my horse. I was halfway there when I heard shooting. Cullen ran past me, yelling for me to run. I didn't question him, I just ran. We got our horses and rode hard out of Dallas.

“I asked him later what had happened, and he said that a woman had tried to cheat him. That as he was leaving, she hollered for the men working in the saloon to stop him. He wouldn't stop and the shooting started. I didn't think very much of the story until that dead pig everyone is so worried about went after Cullen, demanding money. Cullen said I was involved too, so he came after me. That's all I know.”