Gold Raven (37 page)

So far, he was trying but with little success, regardless of his title, sawbones
, he removed limbs only as a last resort when there was no hope or other means to save his patients.

Pryce had no care one way or the other, as long as he gained the information he sought. He left the doctor to it, refusing him his request to place the outlaw with his other wounded. Where the air was fresh, the bed clean and chances of recovery more improved.

"He's a common criminal and will be treated as one." That, had been the end of the discussion…he felt that he could rot in hell; after, that is – he found out what he wanted to know.

Private Paige rode up to meet the delivery party, close now to approaching the fort. Dust flew in their wake, surrounding the wagons as they came to a halt at his arrival. The train consisted of all men. Their frontier attire mostly buckskin or black suede that was dusty and sweat soaked. They had tied handkerchiefs about their necks; some of them wore them over their faces to avoid inhaling the dry grit. Three were on horse back as the others controlled the teams of oxen.

Among them, Paige noticed an Asian and a sizeable black man of light complexion. he rode on to meet another man to the rear of the train, this one white; tall and broad of stature; scowling with impatience. His skin was a deep tan, he wore a close beard and possessed piercing aqua blue eyes. He perceived him to be of middle age and no doubt the one in charge. Drawing close, Paige swallowed, nervously; the man was massive and mean looking, making Paige draw up a bit in his presence.

"Excuse me, sir-…"

"Well you're not excused, why in god’s name are you holding up our progress?!" Manny barked irritated. Leon rode his horse alongside Manny, curious as well. The private looked from Manny to Leon, tongue tied at his sharp manner.

"I, um, sir – Pvt. Paige sir, I was sent out to meet you, delivering bars we hope. I thought to, well…escort you-…"

Manny, rode beyond him giving his men the command to continue their journey. Leon gave the man a slight smile as he turned his horse to catch back up to Manny. "I just thought …well … we've been looking for the bars, for some time now. You see our jail is un-…"

"Pvt. whatever the hell your name is…I don’t care how long you've waited. Get out our way! It’s hot! We’re dog tired and dusty! You do me no favors coming out of the gate, to escort us - in! Your gesture would have been better received at the docks when we dropped the gangplank!" Manny growled aggravated.

"Or, by meeting us halfway! With the fort now in sight,
you are nothing more than a fly in my ear! Busy yourself with seeing that the gate is open when we reach it!"

Now, more nervous than ever, the private nodded and bolted forward to pass them by in order to reach the gate before them, his hand over his hat to hold it in place after his burst of speed. At the gate, he yelled up for the guard to open it. Pvt. Paige stood aside as the delivery team rolled into the fort.

Corp. Harold was present to direct them to the rear of the fort where they were to park their wagons and unhitch the horses while he assigned men to unload the wagons. There they watered and brushed the animals down for the day. All the men were tired and road weary from the exhausting haul west. Most wanted a bath, a shave and a decent meal, while some had their hopes dashed of a soft willing woman and a long drink to slake their thirst. Corp. Harold stood watching as all deeds were done; his eyes going back to Manny, staring with wonder.

The men were laughing and talking as they walked from the livery using their hats to knock the dust from their clothing. Manny noticed the staring militiaman and walked directly to him.

“
Before any business is conducted, where can my men and I go for a bath, meal and rest?”

Harold stood speechless a moment, then swallowed his unease answering, “I’m Corp. Harold, please see me for any of your needs and those of your men. You are…?”

“
Maynard Ramsey Webster of Ramsey Shipping and Passage.” He introduced himself.

Harold swallowed, "Across the way…bathing quarters…and at the end of that block of buildings, you’ll find our dining hall. As for the rest…we don’t have the facilities yet to house you, as many of our men are still living in tents. Our first priority has been to the settlers. You’ll have to bed down in the stables.”

“
Good enough; excuse me.” Manny walked past him with Leon and Gaitsu on either side of him. The other men of his crew stood hanging about and waiting to partner up with a companion before venturing to the bath quarters and dining hall.

“
Don’t you find it strange, the way he was staring at you?” Leon asked as they strolled along. “Staring at me or Gaitsu I can understand… but why at you?” He finished. Manny shook his head, “Who knows, my only concern for the time being is to get this travel dust from me, get something to eat, then figure out what’s to come next.”

“
What do you mean there’s something strange about the deliverymen?” Pryce asked his corporal as he was finishing his meal. “It’s not so much the men; but the feeling I have about the man in charge. He’s very familiar.”

“
Familiar? How?”

“
He umm – he reminds me of our prisoner sir. He looks like an older version of him.”

That got Pryce’s full attention.

“
Did you ask his name?”

“
Yes sir, I did.”

“
And…what was it?”

“
Maynard Ramsey Webster, of Ramsey Shipping & Passage, sir.”

Heat crept over Pryce’s body with the name ringing loud and clear in his mind.
“
Who might your father be? Well? Who is this father who funds this camp? Lies! You are funded by robberies, pilfering…because you are a den of thieves!”

“
My father is Maynard Ramsey Webster! Owner and merchant of Ramsey Shipping & Passage! He funds us! He supplies this camp with all of its needs!”

“
LIES!” - “Enough of this nonsense - open the gate!”

“
Jesus…Jesus…” Pryce whispered to himself, caught in a trap of his own making, unsure of what to do.

“
You are not to say a word, you understand? Not one word, concerning our prisoner, or anything connected. Do I make myself clear?”

“
Yes sir.” Corp. Harold answered but he wasn’t stupid, he’d heard all. He knew there was a chance that a mistake had been made. His conscience was already beginning to plague him; he was not sure just how far he was willing to go in covering up the events of the attack.

A knock sounded at the captain's door. "Yes, come in." Pryce answered, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs.
'Just stay calm. Don't give anything away. Keep it simple and volunteer no information. If all goes well…they'll be gone on the morrow and none will be to the wiser.'

Manny walked into the office, his face stern and ready to do business. He removed his hat as Pryce rose to receive him. "Good afternoon Mr. Webster, I'm happy to see you've made it. I hope your journey was uneventful."

"My journey was long captain, but I'm a man who takes care of business first hand. Your bars have been unloaded. Here is the shipping invoice for you to sign." Manny wasted not a moment getting straight to the heart of it.

"I take it you have others matters to see to, so I won't keep you." The captain returned, taking care of signing the papers without hesitation. "Will you be resting up the night, or getting back on the trail?"

"My men need a rest, as do I and the beasts. A night or two should do us."

"Or two?" The captain asked worried.

"Well yes, we have traveled for miles to make this delivery…a night or two would be naturally expected."

"Yes…well, of course it would. I understand…umm, make yourselves comfortable. If there's anything you might need, just call on Corp
. Harold and he will see to it immediately!"

"Thank you, captain…now if you will excuse me."

Pryce escorted him out and watched him join his men. Corp. Harold was in sight, Pryce waved to get his attention. "There's a possibility they may be resting up for a couple of nights, see that they stay clear of our prisoner. I don't want them wandering about looking for anything."

"Yes sir, captain."

Pryce went directly afterward to check on his prisoner. Two beams of sunlight shone through the dark interior of the storage shed where Mike lay shivering in deep chills despite his temperature being high due to fever. Pryce stood staring down at him as the surgeon requested that he be moved. "You wish me to perform miracles…but this is no place to hold a man in his condition." He went on to explain that it would be to Pryce's benefit to have him moved and worked on. "Once Ramsey Shipping has left, we will move him, not until then." He left again, with the surgeon full of resentment. He did not like the captain in charge. The man was inhuman as far as he was concerned, especially in the handling of their prisoner. He looked down at the mumbling man; realizing that if they did not do something the next day or two…he would probably die. He had heard through the grapevine that captain Pryce was trying to keep his presence quiet. In addition to that, it was rumored that the man in charge of the shipping company was the prisoner's father. This was the reason Pryce was ordering all to keep silent; an order few were following. With a sigh, the sawbones turned and left, but his conscience was plaguing him to do something that might mean the end of his tenure at the fort.

Mike continued to slip in and out of consciousness; for the moment, he was barely conscious. His body overwhelmed by pain with the least movement. He prayed for the pain-free blackness to take him again…more importantly, the fear-free blackness; where all thoughts; worries and his eventual doom could not reach him. Being awake, made the claws of terror sink that much deeper. He trembled; whimpering and gasping from the throbbing burns of his injuries. He was so afraid, his mind pleading,
'God, what am I to do? If I tell of the rifles location, I mark myself guilty of all crimes; with execution as my end, at least in that, the pain will cease; my torture would end…this horrible existence will then be over.'

He groaned as his heart began palpitations of panic and distress. Tears fell from his eyes, stinging the path they traced on his skin. "God! Please…" He croaked weakly.

"It i
s the pain in my heart that hurts me more. That pain, caused by all the faces I see in my mind. They will not leave me in peace. They refuse me the will to die. It would be so easy…all I have to do…just tell them. All would be done…just tell them.” Mike tossed his head, shaking away the flies that landed around him, “I cannot…I don't want it to be over…oh God…I don't want to die. Please…bless me this once…I beg you, although I am not deserving, I beg you even as I have done wrong. I have done wrong." He lay sobbing softly – trying to keep control. It hurt even to cry, straining all of his muscles.

'Please God…please…just this once.'
– "Just this once… bless me father with a miracle …save me please ...just this once." He gave a mournful chuckle.
'Miracles don't happen for people like me.'
He thought disdainfully. All he knew for the moment; was that he was hot, his throat was dry, his stomach growled from hunger; he stank of his own urine. In gritted anger he muttered, "I might as well be swine; wallowing in my own filth…you bastards…
get me outa
– ohhh." He groaned the last, the shout had cost him. He began laughing, "You're the bastard." He laughed, "Maynard - Ramsey - Webster's half-cast, negro bastard; outlaw; thief -mongrel get!" Again, he chuckled low; talking to himself. He lay silent a moment, staring within the sweltering heat of his jail, his heart hammering; his stomach nervous; his head throbbing; as more tears flowed. He wanted to cry harder, he wanted to sob and pant as a child would, suddenly he was that lost little boy again…alone…and very much afraid.

He wanted to feel safe again; the way he felt before all the hell in his life broke free; before he was taken away from his mother when he felt safest. When, despite the discomfort of it, he was the master's bastard get. Manny's boy, Mikey. What he would give, to once again be Manny's boy, back to that time when the entire world around him belonged to his father.

"
Fathe-e-er!
Father … find – me – ple-e-ease! Please…find me please, find me, I need you to find me I need you…I'm so scared…they're going …they're going to kill me… please don't let me die here…please don't…" His voice grew lighter; his words further apart as the heat and pain slowly brought him back to his merciful blackness.

Constantly growing and adding more inhabitants, Fort Le Croix housed over forty families; built upon 130 acres of land. The construction of it consisted of two separate land areas; in close proximity at the front of the fort were several outbuildings. The stockade – (under construction); the infirmary; dining hall; trading post; garrison – (under construction); officer's quarters; black smithy & livery stables; horse paddock; arsenal area; and last the official buildings.