Written by: Julie Dieck
Chapter 6 “Top Dog”
As he entered the barracks, Alan was met by the racket of voices and the smell of coffee, tobacco, and cigar smoke. Bunk beds lined the walls and a few small tables were set around in the large room. Men in privets’ uniforms were scattered about; most of them laying or sitting on the beds relaxing, a few played cards at the tables. As the door closed behind him, the room went silent as all turned to inspect the new arrival. Alan stood with duffle bag slung over one shoulder, light colored eyes sweeping the room, his stance relaxed yet poised. He wanted to give an impression as well as get one; what either would be he wasn’t sure of yet.
A tall man with dark hair and shoulder’s almost as wide as Alan’s, stood up from the nearest table and sauntered up to him. He took a cigarette out of his mouth and blew out a puff of smoke as he looked Alan over up and down, sizing him up before speaking.
“So, you’re the new man,” he said with a light Texan’s drawl. An odd greeting; but somehow his tone was friendly enough despite the words.
“That I be,” Alan replied simply.
The other nodded. “I’m Karson. I’m what you might call the leader of this raggedy group you see around you.” He turned and pointed at the other men around the table he had got up from. “We’re the main bunch you’ll have to work with. That’s Fredrick, Gavin, Hayes, and the little one there’s Foster.”
“Will you fallas quite it!” the one called Foster piped up defensively as the others chuckled.
Karson ignored the interruption. Turning his attention back to Alan, he waved a thumb back over his shoulder at the rest of the lounging men. “As for the rest of these blue-boys, you’ll get to know ‘em in time. And now that you know who we are, what’s your name?”
“Alan Branegan,” the new privet replied, an edge of wariness to his bold tone as he too studied the man before him.
The one called Fredrick gestured toward Alan, talking around the half-smoked cigar stuck between his teeth. “Looks like you may’ve met your match in that one, Karson. He’s big as you are; a shade bigger actually.”
Karson looked over Alan’s large frame again. “Maybe.” He folded his arms and stood to his full height, able to look Alan straight in the eye. “Sometime we’ll have to have a little competition; find out who’s head man ‘round here.” But there was a twinkle in his eyes that seemed to say he didn’t mean it as a threat. It was all in the spirit of fun.
Alan still wasn’t ready to call anyone friend yet; though he did like the sure way this man conducted himself. “Might be interestin’. But right now, if this is gunna be me home, where should I be spreadin’ me blanket?”
Hayes pointed at a lower bunk against the side wall. “That one ain’t being used right now. You can have it.”
Without a word, Alan stepped around Karson and went to it. He set his duffle on the bunk and began to unpack a few things as the hum of voices began filling the room again. He noticed the one named Foster gazing at him with an intent curious expression. Alan straightened and faced the smaller man.
“What ya’ be lookin’ at?”
Foster recoiled a bit in his chair at the growly voice. “I’ve just never seen a real Irishman before.” Then he leaned forward again. “Are you really Irish?”
“No, he’s English,” Karson threw out sarcastically and a ripple of snickers ran through the room. He gave the blank-faced privet a sideways glance with a shake of his head. Foster could be so naïve at times. “What’d you think? He puts on that accent for fun?”
Gavin tuned in his chair to face Alan. “So where do you hale from?”
“From here. Texas be me home all me life.”
“You sure don’t sound like you’re from here,” Hayes put in.
“Aye, maybe so.” Alan straightened. “But both me father and mother were born and raised in Ireland. Came over to this country straight from the old sod itself. There t’ain’t no truer Irish blood than I got.”
Karson blew out a puff of smoke, studying the cigarette in his hand. “Blood can tell a lot about a man. For instance, I’m a full blooded Texan. My great, great grand-pappy was from here and it’s been that way all down the line. True-blooded Texans are known to be strong and have courage. We don’t give up on nothin’ and like a good challenge. What’s more we’re proud of it. It’s what real men are made of.” He peered up at Alan. “How, uh … how about the Irish? They anything like that?”
The entire barracks went dead silent as all ears pricked up. They knew what Karson was getting around to, and were waiting for what was to happen.
Alan pointed a finger at him. “Listen here, lad. If it be courage and strength ya’ want, there t’ain’t no one better ta’ learn from than an Irishman! Just one of us has got more courage than all the cavalry in this here state put together. And as for strength, I meself could lick every one ah’ ya’ with one hand tied behind me back and still have enough fight leftover ta’ take on a whole tribe of Comanche single handed with a few Apache thrown in ta’ boot! That’s how we be and don’t ya’ let no one tell ya’,” he made a quick sweeping gesture at the rest of the watching group, “or any of ya’ different!”
Karson grinned at the spirit in the new privet; he liked it – actually admired it. Now to see if he had guts. “Well, now, Mr. Irishman, if that’s so, let’s see just how well ya’ can back that up.” He flicked his cigarette away and stood straight with hands on hips. “I challenge you, Branegan. To a match of strength and endurance to see who’s the real leader in this here outfit.”
The others held their breaths in anticipation, waiting on the edge of their seats.
Alan turned back to his bunk and continued to unpack. “Ya’ can save it, lad. I ain’t wantin’ leadership of this bunch.” Then he added, “that is: not yet.”
Karson folded his arms, a puckish twinkle in his eye. “I understand. It takes a fella a bit to get up the courage when he comes up against his match.” He almost leaned back a bit when Alan’s face suddenly appeared right before him.
Alan’s finger punched lightly against Karson’s chest as he spoke. “Look here, me bucky, there ain’t ah’ man livin’ that I be afraid ta’ face.” He narrowed his eyes a bit. “If yer so anxious ta’ git beat, then I accept yer challenge.”
Karson gave a nod. “Alright then. We’ll settle this the way we always have around here.” He began rolling up his right sleeve. “And I don’t lose.”
A minute later the entire barracks was crammed around a table, eagerly waiting for what was about to transpire. Alan and Karson sat facing each other with right arms on the tabletop, hats off, and sleeves rolled up past the elbows. Fredrick stood by as the starter.
“Gentleman, get ready!”
The two men clasped hands in an arm wrestling set and braced themselves.
Fredrick raised his hand. “Get set!” he said slowly as the tension began to mount among the watching soldiers.
Karson smiled at his rival. “I warn you. I’ve beat every man the past four years who thought they could be top dog, and I ain’t aimin’ ta’ give up my championship yet.”
Alan looked him in the eye, undaunted. “We’ll see ‘bout that, laddie.”
Fredrick slapped the table so hard it trembled. “GO!”
The whooping and hollering that followed nearly rattled the windows. The spectators cheered the two men on as they pushed against each other’s strength. The roar would go up on Karson’s side as he began to gain ground, then it would go up on Alan’s as he fought back and bring it even again.
Five minutes later, both men were still at it; grunting through clenched teeth. The muscles in their forearms and biceps bulged with strain; veins popping out against tight skin. Their hands quivered, fingers and palms aching from the iron grip. The two men’s eyes were locked in a solid stare. Sweat rolled down their hot faces, jaws clenched in concentration; both tiring, but neither willing to yield. Then, slowly but steadily, Alan began to push his rival’s hand down little by little.
Karson gritted his teeth as he battled it, but had a feeling he was watching his 35 time championship coming to a slow end. In one last attempt, Karson gave everything he had into a finale hard thrust. Alan felt it and braced, though his arm burned with the strain. He let out a howling growl as he put everything into it and the back of Karson’s hand hit the tabletop with a sharp smack. A noisy din of cheers sounded from the watchers as the two men sat puffing while massaging sore arms.
Karson blew out a breath as he shook out the tired limb. “Haven’t had a contest that good in years. Ya’ got strength ta’ match your guts, fella, I’ll say that. Looks like we got ourselves a new ‘captain’ of the barracks. Well, no one can say that Jeb Karson got licked fair and square and held a grudge.” He gave a slight bow. “I yield my command.”
Alan grinned, pushing away the sweat-slicked hair that hung over his forehead. “I’ll appoint ya’ me lieutenant.”
Karson’s brow went up, a twinkle in his eye. “I already did.” He got to his feet held and out his quivering right hand with an admiring smirk. “Welcome to the bunch, Branegan.”
Alan stood up and put out his own tired arm as he clasped the friendly handshake. The others pressed around with hearty congratulations and greetings and pats on the back. The new champion accepted them graciously – and proudly; and for the first time in weeks, Alan began to feel as though things were going to be alright.
For the first few days, Alan kept somewhat to himself. He did his assigned duties, followed regulations, and managed to stay out of any trouble – serious trouble that is. But as time went by, Alan began to feel more comfortable in his new surroundings’. Captain Henderson was fair and understanding, but still held his men in line with firmness. The other fellas in the barracks weren’t bad either. They accepted him for who he was and made him feel right at home, including him in their activities and card games – which they soon found Alan was very good at. By the time his first week at Fort Bravado had ended, he’d become close friends with Karson and all the others; and with his natural leadership, it wasn’t long before he became the top dog of the pack. He even became good friends with Sergeant Bates. He also saw the girl, Linda, from time to time, but kept a moderate distance. After all, she was the captain’s daughter; although when he did speak to her, she always had a sweet smile and a kind word for him. Yes, he had to admit he was actually having a pretty fine time of himself. The last time he could say that was when Daniel was still alive. For the first time in a long while, Alan actually began to feel good and relax; but his hate for the Indians still remained strong. For the time, it was buried, but it was still there nevertheless; dormant for the time being.
(Chapter 7 will be released next Saturday, December 23, 2023)
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