Silver City Massacre

ONCE A REBEL

“He said he'll have another drink,” Joel said, his tone calm, but firm, as he stood there with his carbine held casually before him.

“You're makin' a helluva mistake, mister,” Ansil Bowers finally spoke up. “I ain't gotta serve none of you Rebel trash.”

“You're gonna serve this one,” Joel told him, “and the sooner you get on with it, the sooner we'll be gone.”

Emboldened by Lige Tolbert's presence, Bowers replied, “The hell I will.” In the next instant, he suddenly jerked backward, startled by the sharp crack of the carbine and the crash of broken glass as the lamp behind the bar was shattered. It was followed at once by the sound of another cartridge inserted in the chamber, and a moment later, by the gasps of the startled bystanders.

Joel motioned with the Spencer and said, “Pour him his drink, and be quick about it. I'm losin' my patience.”

SILVER CITY MASSACRE

Charles G. West

A SIGNET BOOK

SIGNET

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Copyright © Charles G. West, 2014

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REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

ISBN 978-0-698-13737-0

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

For Ronda

It had taken him a long time to make up his mind, too long, he figured, but at last he deemed it time to put this senseless war behind him and get on with the rest of his life. Joel McAllister could look himself in the eye, knowing that he had given all that he had originally pledged to the Missouri Volunteers and General Joseph Shelby's Confederate cavalry. He had fought under Shelby's command for over two years, distinguishing himself in countless raids and skirmishes, enough so that he was awarded a battlefield promotion to the rank of lieutenant.

It had been more than two months since Lee surrendered at the little Virginia town of Appomattox, but Joe Shelby had defied orders to surrender his cavalry, saying he would never live under Yankee rule. Like several hundred of Shelby's volunteers, Joel had followed the fire-eating general when he left Shreveport and marched into Texas, determined to take his troops to Mexico. A sense of loyalty to his general had been the reason Joel had made that decision.

After some troublesome nights of serious thought, however, he found himself on the bank of the Brazos River near the little town of Waco, questioning the choice he had made. It was a hard decision to make, for he had felt it his duty to follow his superiors and not ask whether or not their orders were right or wrong. Over the last two days, he had labored over the question and he realized that he was ready to say good-bye to war. Choosing to leave with some honor, he had informed his company commander, Captain Grace, that he was departing in the morning, having decided that his future did not lie in Mexico. The captain was disappointed but assured him that the general would understand and wish him luck, just as he had with the majority of his command who had departed for home when the unit was in Shreveport.

“Where are you heading?” Captain Grace asked.

“About as far from this war as I can get,” Joel answered. “I've been thinkin' it over, and I've decided to light out for Idaho Territory.”

“Idaho?” Grace responded, obviously surprised. “What in hell is in Idaho? That's halfway across the world. You might as well go to California or Oregon.”

“That's a fact, I reckon,” Joel replied. “But maybe it's far enough away so there's no North or South, and this damn war ain't the only thing on everybody's minds. That ain't my only reason, though. I've got a brother out that way, and I reckon he'd be glad to have a partner to help him work his place. I've been thinkin' it over, and I ain't cut out for a career in soldierin'. I've got nothing to go back to in Missouri. The only family I've got left is my brother.”

“Well, I wish you luck, McAllister. You're a fine soldier and a damn good man. I wish I could let you take your horse with you, but the general said any man who quits after we cross into Texas will leave on foot. I'm sorry. I surely am.”

“I understand the general's feelin's on the matter,” Joel assured him. “Our horse stock is needin' some help right now, so I didn't expect it any other way. I've got no problem with that. I'll turn my horse out with the others tonight.”

“That's mighty understanding of you,” Grace said. “I know the general will appreciate your attitude. You say you're planning on leaving in the morning?”

“Yes, sir, right after breakfast.”

“Good,” Grace said. “I'm sure the general will want to have a word with you before you go. Maybe he'll make an exception of his order and let you take your horse.”

Joel smiled and nodded. They shook hands then and the captain turned and walked back toward his tent. Joel watched him walk away, remaining there on the bank until Grace entered the tent. He then returned to his own tent and the chestnut gelding tied beside it. The horse had been with him since his first day assigned to the regiment. It had more or less picked him to partner with. On the day they met, the gentle gelding left the herd of extra horses and walked right up to him when he approached them, bridle in hand. At the time, Joel had had no particular preference, so he accepted the chestnut's easy invitation, and there had been no reason to regret the decision ever since. Concerned about the horse's performance in battle, Joel had been pleased to find the chestnut willing and able during a cavalry charge, and fleet of foot whenever a quick retreat was ordered. That characteristic of willingness inspired Joel to name him Willing, which he soon shortened to Will.

The captain had been right when he said the Idaho Territory was half a world away from Waco, Texas. But being the practical man that he was, Joel had no intention of walking that distance, and certainly no thought of leaving Will behind. He figured the regiment owed him a horse at the least, and a packhorse to boot, which he planned to liberate from the herd of extra horses grazing in the narrow valley as soon as darkness set in a little more. There was a strong possibility that Grace was right in thinking Shelby would let him take the horse. But Joel preferred to bank on a sure thing, so he planned to leave that night, in spite of what he had told the captain.

He was about to enter his tent to finish packing up his saddlebags and bedroll when the familiar figure of Sergeant Riley Tarver suddenly appeared in the diminishing light of evening. Even in the poor light, there was no mistaking the squat, solidly built Tarver as he approached on short legs, appropriately bowed for a cavalry trooper. Joel paused to await him. The sergeant was always found close to his lieutenant whenever the regiment was in battle. Joel was not oblivious of the fact that Tarver seemed to have taken a responsibility upon himself to ensure his safety. He had to chuckle when he stopped to think about it—Riley Tarver had selected him to watch over much the same as Will had. And while he had never voiced it, he sincerely appreciated the sergeant's apparent devotion to him.

“Evenin', Sergeant,” Joel greeted him. “You lookin' for me?”

“Evenin', Lieutenant,” Riley returned. “Yes, sir, I was thinkin' on havin' a word with you, if you don't mind.”

“All right,” Joel replied, thinking he caught a sense of concern in the sergeant's manner. “What's on your mind?”

Tarver hesitated while he sought to organize his words. “Sir, can I talk kinda frankly?”

“Why, sure you can, Riley. Nothing ever stopped you before. Is something botherin' you?” It occurred to Joel that he was going to miss the burly sergeant.

Riley pushed his campaign hat back far enough to enable him to scratch his curly white hair, still hesitant to come out with what he had come to say. Finally he spat it out.

“Lieutenant, you know, we've been in some pretty tight places over the past two years, and I hope you won't think it disrespectful if I say I've come to know you pretty well.”

Joel stifled a chuckle. He was well aware of the sergeant's admiration. “Not at all,” he answered. “I reckon we both know each other pretty well.”

“Well, sir,” Riley went on. “It looks to me like you've been thinkin' pretty heavy on somethin' for the last week and a half—like maybe that somethin's botherin' you. And if I was to take a guess, I'd say you ain't too damn keen about goin' down to Mexico.” He paused when he saw that his comment had caused Joel's eyebrows to rise, but Joel made no reply, so he continued. “It ain't none of my business, but I just wanted to tell you that I ain't lost nothin' in Mexico. If you're thinkin' about musterin' out of this army anytime soon—and you could tolerate a partner—why, hell, I'm your man. I'm ready to be done with this war, and the farther I can get away from it, the better.”

Joel was stunned. Had he been that transparent? Or was Riley so devoted to him that he had learned to read his mind? He had given absolutely no thought toward having a partner on his long journey up the face of the country. It made for an interesting suggestion, however, one that called for his consideration. After he'd thought about it for a few long moments, it suddenly struck him as an amusing proposition, considering the timing. And he had to admit that if he were to pick one man with whom to partner, it would have been Riley Tarver.

Joel's lengthy pause caused Riley to worry. “If I've spoke out of line,” Riley quickly offered, “I wanna say right here and now that I didn't intend no disrespect.”

Joel needed no more than another moment to reply. “How soon can you be ready to go? ‘Cause I'm leavin' tonight.”

Riley's jaw dropped in surprise. “You mean I can go with you?”

“If you can get your gear together to leave tonight,” Joel answered, “'cause I ain't figurin' on ridin' another day closer to Mexico.”

“Glory be!” the sergeant exclaimed, scarcely able to believe it. “I knew there was somethin' workin' on your mind. I was wonderin' why you pitched your tent kinda off here by itself. Yes, sir, I'm ready to go right now.” His grin was so wide that his face could scarcely contain it. “Where you figurin' on headin'? Not that I care one way or the other.”

“Idaho Territory,” Joel answered.

“Idaho?” Riley responded, as much surprised as Captain Grace had been, but unlike the captain, he thought it was a grand idea. “Well, now, there's a piece of luck, I'd say, 'cause I've spent some time up that way, back before this war. I followed the rest of them fools out to California lookin' for gold.” He paused for a little chuckle when he recalled, “I didn't find enough to buy tobacco for my pipe.”

“Maybe you'll have better luck this time,” Joel said. “My brother's sittin' on a claim out there near a little town called Silver City. At least that's what his letter said, but I didn't get the letter until six months after he sent it. I reckon he's still in the same spot. That's what I'm countin' on, anyway. I can't say for sure what we'll find when we get out there. My brother mighta moved on somewhere else.”

“I didn't know you had a brother,” Riley said.

“Yep, Boone's two years older than I am. He went in the army about six months before I did, got his leg torn half off by a load of grapeshot at Vicksburg—crippled him up pretty bad, so his soldierin' days were over. Boone ain't the type to let anything stand in his way, though. So when there was news that folks had found gold in Idaho Territory, he decided he'd go, too. Accordin' to his letter, he thinks he's sittin' on a mountain of it. He said there were a lot of folks who went to California that came back to prospect in Idaho. There may not be any gold left to find when we get there, but I figured I might as well go out there and see the country for myself. So if you're sure it'll suit you, then welcome aboard.”

“It suits me just fine,” Riley assured him. “I'm ready to go. We've done lost this war.”

“There are a few things we have to take care of tonight if we're gonna get outta here before anybody knows we're gone,” Joel told him. “How do you feel about horse stealin'?” He went on to remind him about General Shelby's policy regarding the horses. “I told Captain Grace that I wasn't leavin' till after breakfast tomorrow, 'cause I'm plannin' to borrow another horse to use as a packhorse tonight. I kinda gave him the idea that I was gonna turn my horse in with the others tonight and leave on foot after breakfast. Looks like we'll need two more now, and I wanna be long gone from here before reveille.”

“Yes, sir,” Riley exclaimed, excited now with the prospect. “Horse stealin' runs in my blood, on my mother's side, and I can get my possibles ready in no time. I'll go see if I can get us a little extra bacon and beans from the mess sergeant while he ain't lookin', and I can rig us up a couple of packsaddles for them horses we're gonna need.” He paused to give his new partner a grin. “It'll most likely be a little easier to steal a couple of horses from that herd if there's one of us to distract the guard.”

“I reckon,” Joel replied with a matching grin. He reached out to accept Riley's extended hand, and the two parties sealed the partnership. “We'll need a couple of stout packhorses, 'cause I'm plannin' on loadin' 'em down with weapons and ammunition.”

One thing the regiment had was plenty of both. After the surrender of the Confederacy, there were any number of arms stored at various magazines across Texas, and General Shelby had taken advantage of the opportunity to proceed to Mexico well supplied. Riley understood the lieutenant's thinking. The arms would be useful as trade goods to exchange for whatever supplies they might need along the way; plus, there were a lot of Indians between here and where they were going.

Joel wanted to make sure that Riley had considered all the risks involved, so he paused to ask a question. “Are you sure you wanna make a long ride across this territory when it's just the two of us? You know there have been reports of Cheyenne and Arapaho raids all over parts of Colorado since that massacre at Sand Creek about a year ago, and the Comanches ain't ever been peaceful.”

“Yessir, I'm aware of that, but I figure we'd be watchin' our asses pretty careful, and we'll have plenty of firepower to make it costly for any Injuns that light into us. Besides, I got me a strong hankerin' to see those Rocky Mountains again.”

“All right, then. Get your stuff together,” Joel directed, “and bring it to my tent after the camp settles down for the night. Then we'll see about gettin' ourselves a couple of horses.”

“I'll see you in about an hour,” Riley said. He paused just before lifting the tent flap. “I reckon you've figured on how long it'll take us to get to Idaho Territory. It's almost September now, and we ain't likely gonna be able to do much travelin' when the snow starts.”

“Yeah, I know,” Joel replied. “But I reckon I've got the rest of my life to get there, so I ain't worried about whether or not I make it before spring.”

“Me, too,” Riley said.

•   •   •

True to his word, Riley Tarver returned when the campfires had died down among the lines of tents in the narrow valley. He was leading his horse, a dark sorrel, with several canvas sacks and half a dozen rifles to add to those Joel had already managed to acquire. They were tied on loosely behind the saddle. He found Joel packed as well, and ready to go.