By: Julie Dieck
Chapter 11 “The Silver Diamond Rifle”
Alan sat at one of the tables in the barracks with Karson and the others playing a game of cards when the door opened and a small face with blond hair beneath an old cavalry hat popped in.
“Hi fellas!” a chirpy voice called out.
All turned with greetings of the same enthusiasm as Kathy entered. She spied Alan at the table and walked right over with a light spring in her step. Alan chuckled as he laid his cards down.
“Well, now, yer lookin’ as lively as a frisky filly.”
“All thanks to you, Alan; and everyone else,” Kathy replied with a big smile as he put an arm around his shoulders.
Alan chuckled, wrapping his own arm around her waist and giving her a squeeze. “T’was me pleasure, lass.”
“You’ve sure been enjoying the fort, haven’t you?” Fredrick said with a knowing smile.
“Who wouldn’t?” Kathy answered enthusiastically. “It’s been great here with you guys. I’d like to stay here forever.”
“We’d sure like that too,” Hayes said as the other put in their agreement.
“Gotta admit, you’re not bad ta’ have around,” Karson put in.
Alan nodded. “Aye. That ya’ are.”
His eyes happened to catch those of Karson’s and the two shared a brief somber glance. They both knew this wish was impossible. According to Army regulations, no children under 18 were allowed live on a post if not accompanied by at least one parent or relative. Close friends didn’t count; even if they were all like family. Now that Kathy was recovered; it wouldn’t be long before Captain Henderson would be forced to order that she be taken off the post and given a home someplace else. He had been delaying as long as possible, for he too didn’t want to see her leave; but excuses were becoming scarce. The somber instant was forgotten for the moment as Kathy’s cheery voice continued on. She turned to Alan.
“The reason I came over is, I was wondering if I could go out for a ride. Figured I’d better ask before I just took a horse from the corral. I didn’t want to take the wrong one.”
Teasing her eagerness, Alan scratched his ear as if in undecided thought, then laughed at Kathy’s impatient face. “Don’t see as why not. Tell ya’ what, I ain’t goin’ noplace today, so ya’ can use me own horse. I know ya’ been itchin’ ta’ get ride him ever since ya’ laid yer eyes on him.”
Kathy’s face lit up like a sunbeam. “Thanks, Alan! I have been. He’s a beautiful animal.”
“Why that be mighty nice of ya’ ta’ say. The brawny beast’ll appreciate it. His name be–”
“Blarney.”
Alan stared in surprise at Kathy who stood grinning from ear to ear. “Well now, how did ya’ know that?”
“I just knew. That’s all,” she replied casually with a slight shrug as she turned to leave. “What else would an Irishman name his faithful mount?”
Alan chuckled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that ya’ was Irish yerself.”
Kathy paused in the doorway. “Oh, by the way, Alan.” A sparkle came to her eyes. “My last name’s O’Connell.”
“O’Connell!” Cards fluttered to the table as Alan jumped out of his chair, nearly upsetting it. “Why, ya’ didn’t tell me ya’ was an Irish lass!”
His only answer was Kathy’s light bubbling laughter as she stepped out; then the door closed, muffling the sound. Alan snatched up his hat and rushed for the door, nearly tripping over Foster, who was trying to shine his boots, on the way.
“Wait up ah’ moment, Kathy! Ya’ just can’t go leavin’ like this!” he called out and the door banged closed after him, cutting off the burst of laughter inside the barracks.
Outside, Alan caught up with Kathy and the two talked while they walked to the stable. They were nearly there and Alan was telling about some old Irish tale when he suddenly realized that Kathy wasn’t listening – she wasn’t even beside him anymore. Confused, he looked around and saw she’d stopped a few paces back, face set. Alan hurried back and leaned down a bit so he could see her face. “What’s the matter, lass?”
“Look,” she said, pointing toward the gates.
He followed the direction to see one of the privets riding in, rifle held ready; and riding in front of him on a pinto horse decorated in paint and feathers was an Indian. They were heading for the headquarters building and they could see Captain Henderson standing just outside along with Sergeant Bates, watching their approach.
Alan turned towards the barracks and cupped a hand around his mouth as he boomed. “Hey, lads! Somethin’s up! Git out here!” He then laid a hand on Kathy’s shoulder. “Stay here, lass,” he instructed and hurried off.
Others came jogging up alongside to see what all the commotion was about. He managed to get at the front of the group that was quickly gathering around the captain, who was now facing the captured Indian. The privet stood by covering him, another rifle was in his other hand at his side. Alan came up just in time to hear him telling the story.
“He tried to waylay me on the trail and steal my horse and rifle,” the privet was saying. “He took a shot at me and just missed my head by a jackrabbit’s eyelash. He tried to get away, but I managed to run him down and grab him instead.”
“He’s a Tawakoni, Captain,” Bates spoke up. “From Chief Nibaw’s tribe. The one who’s been leading those attacks on the ranches and wagon trains in the valley.”
The privet nodded. “What I reckoned. This is what he used to nearly scalp me with. Figured it wasn’t his once I got a look at it.” He held out the second rifle he had been carrying.
The captain took it and admiringly turned it over in his hands. It was a beautiful weapon with shining silver trappings. In the middle of the stock on either side, a large decoratively engraved silver diamond was set in the smooth cherry oak colored wood. It was a Winchester, too fancy to be regular issue; custom made, so there was no doubt that the brave had stolen it. He had probably picked it off from somebody he’d waylaid on the trail or snuck it from a campsite.
An odd sensation came over him; as though he were getting crowded. Henderson looked up to see the large mass of soldiers all pressing in close for a good view.
“Don’t some of you men have work to be doing?” he asked firmly. “This is not a sideshow. Now back to your duties.”
Grudgingly, the main bulk of the men slowly dispersed, quite a few still lingered about, including Alan. For a few minutes, Henderson tried questioning the Indian about where he’d acquired the rifle and about the whereabouts of Chief Nibaw, but the red man stood so stolid and tall Alan thought he could have been put in front of a cigar store. The only thing the brave would say was that the rifle was his; an obvious lie, but that’s what he stuck to. Henderson finally had to admit that he was going to get nothing out of this man. He turned to the sergeant.
“Looks like we’re just going to have to find Nibaw on our own, Bates.”
“You didn’t really expect to get anything out of him, did you, sir? Indians are worse than clams when it comes to getting information out of them.”
Henderson nodded in discouragement. “I know. But anything’s worth a try at this point.” He motioned to the soldier who had brought him in. “Privet, take him to the guardhouse for now until we can–”
“Let me through!”
His words were interrupted by the loud demand. They looked over to see Kathy shove her way in through the dispersed ring of men that was still lingering.
“What be the meanin’ of this, Kathy? I could’ve sworn I’d told ya’ ta’ stay back there,” Alan said, a bit annoyed at the open disobedience.
Without answering, Kathy marched up to the captain. “They told me you captured an Indian who had a rifle with an engraved silver diamond on the side of the handle. Is that right?”
Henderson looked slightly confused and non-too-pleased at the bold interruption. “Yes, but this is no time for–”
“Let me see it.” Kathy held her hand out, beckoning for the rifle that Henderson still held.
Alan couldn’t understand. The girl’s face was grimly set, eyes hard; cold as icy steel. It seemed as though an entirely different person were standing there; not the chipper, smiling Kathy that he had seen not ten minutes ago.
There was something about the commanding tone in the usually cheery voice that made Henderson stop from having her escorted to her quarters. She wasn’t asking out of inquisitiveness or playacting soldier; there was something more to this request and it piqued his curiosity. As he slowly held the rifle out toward her, he thought about what a good commanding officer she would make being able to change her tone and barring so quickly and effectively.
Kathy gripped it with both hands and her eyes only made one sweep of the weapon before they again came up to meet the captain’s; this time with burning fire. “This is my father’s rifle!”
A tremor of shock went through the men like a jolt of electricity.
“Are you sure about that?” Henderson asked.
Kathy gripped the Winchester so tight her knuckles began to turn white. “I could never forget it. My father was very proud of this rifle. He had it custom made with these silver diamonds. I pulled it out of his hands after he was killed and it was in my own when I got an arrow in the back.”
Suddenly Alan leapt forward and faced the Indian, eyes flaming. “Why, ya’ murderin’ savage!” He pulled back an arm, fingers clenched white.
Bates jumped forward to intervene. His hand clamped down on Alan’s wrist, stopping the swing while hooking his other arm around the privet’s elbow, locking it back. “Hold it, Branegan! Think about what you’re doing!”
Alan fought against the hold. “Let go ah’ me, sergeant! I know exactly what I be doin’! I’ll teach the coldblooded heathen ah’ thing or two! I’ll kill him with me bare hands if I have ta’!”
“Branegan!”
Alan stopped struggling at the sharp command. He glanced over to see his captain gazing at him with rebuking eyes. The privet didn’t struggle anymore, but he was still tense as a wound up spring and Bates kept his tight hold in case the Irish temper decided to flare up again.
“You will report to my office later,” Henderson spoke again, his tone still sharp but not as severe. “The army doesn’t deal with any situation in this kind of manner and you know it!”
Another voice spoke. “Well, I ain’t in the army!” The metallic clacking of a lever being cocked came to his ears.
Henderson spun to see Kathy level the Winchester at the Indian brave. She handled it with familiarity and he had no doubt she could use it well – effectively and deadly. For one split second, Henderson’s eyes went to Alan, but the privet only stood there, glowering at the Indian who hadn’t twitched a muscle during the whole scene, making no attempt to stop the girl. His own eyes were on fire.
Kathy’s finger barely touched the trigger, ready to send revenge on its deadly way when a large hand lightly gripped her shoulder.
“Hold it, Kathy.”
It made her pause, eyes still fixed on the stolid Indian before her. She didn’t need to look to see who had spoken. It was Captain Henderson’s voice. But this command was not sharp as before; it was softer, kinder, but still authoritative.
“This isn’t the way to do it,” the captain said calmly.
It felt as though the air had suddenly gotten very thin as Kathy gasped it in; breathing almost in painful sobs. “But he … they killed them,” she finally got out.
The hand stayed firmly yet gently on her shoulder. “I know; and I don’t like what he did any more than you, but this isn’t the way to handle it. Revenge won’t bring anyone back, and it will never really satisfy what you’re feeling inside. It only causes more trouble – possibly more than you can ever handle – to you and everyone around you. What he did was wrong, yes; but we’re not the judges to give out sentences and executions. Don’t give in to revenge, and I promise you’ll never regret it.”
Kathy’s gaze didn’t stray from the brave before her, but it could be seen that she had heard every word. Her misty eyes mirrored the intense battle raging inside.
Henderson gently continued. “And as long as you’re on this post, you’re a part of this outfit and a soldier always obeys his commanding officer’s orders.” He took a breath and said slowly, “Now, lower the rifle.”
A beat of heavy silence passed. Then, a different look came to Kathy’s eyes; the hot fire of hate dying within them as wise words sank in. Slowly, as though fighting for every movement and retraction of muscles, her finger slipped off the trigger. The long barrel came down.
“That’s it,” Henderson softly prodded and held out a hand. “Now hand it to me.”
She held out the rifle, not looking at the captain’s face; partly from the shame that came with realization of what had almost happened. Henderson accepted it with an almost unnoticeable sigh of relief, and handed it off to a nearby corporal. He then turned to the privet who still covered the brave.
“Take him to the guard house now.”
Without a word, the privet and prisoner left the quiet circle of men that had again grown in size the last few minutes. Only when they were well gone did Bates finally release his locking hold on Alan and backed away from the slightly indignant privet. Henderson clasped his hands behind his back as he slowly gazed around at the circle of soldiers with serious eyes.
“I hope this will be a lesson to you all, and that you’ve listened to what I said. Now, I want you all to listen again. There are to be no skirmishes with the Indians if it can be positively avoided. We’ll protect ourselves, yes; but I don’t want some hot-head accidently starting a war in some fool act of impulsive anger.” He glimpsed briefly in Alan’s direction; the privet’s eyes looked elsewhere.
The captain continued, “Like I said, revenge solves nothing; it only causes more trouble later on. If we hurt them because they hurt us, that makes us no different than them. Two wrongs don’t make a right. Now, I don’t want any display of actions like this again. From any of my soldiers or anyone in this fort for that matter.” He made a passing glance at Kathy, but the girl’s eyes still stared at the dirt. “I want you to think about what happened and what I’ve said today. That goes for all of you – and that’s an order. Dismissed.” Henderson turned back for his office with Sergeant Bates, the corporal following as the rest dispersed.
Alan watched Kathy slowly walk to her quarters with hands stuffed in her pockets; head lowered, boots scuffing the dirt. He turned and started back for the barracks himself; he figured there would be no riding today.
The pleasantness of the afternoon had suddenly vanished as old and new thoughts clashed in Alan’s mind. The captain’s words had made an impression, but they were fighting against a wall of hate and bitterness that had been building inside for years. Wise words alone weren’t going to be able to break it down; it was going to take more.
Alan scowled as he thought about how if he was going to have to do K.P. duty, it would have at least been slightly satisfying if he’d gotten in one good swing.
(Chapter 12 will be released next Saturday, January 27, 2024)
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