Massacre at Powder River

Chapter Twenty-five

At the junction of Nine Mile Creek and the Powder River, Matt tied Spirit off so he couldn’t be seen. Then he climbed up onto a precipice that afforded him enough elevation to be able to see for a long way in either direction, or at least as far as he could see in the darkness. It was three A.M., and he had come in the middle of the night so he would be there far in advance of the time set by the note. It was his intention to see whoever Logan was going to send to meet him.

From here, he could see back down the Powder River and up the small creek, both streams reflecting silver in the moonlight. Sitting down, he leaned back against a Ponderosa pine and waited. Overhead, the wind stirred the pine needles and moved the branches in a quiet whisper. It was a pleasant sound, and the air was soft and cool; and if his mission had not been critical, one that could mean life or death for a young boy, he could enjoy this moment.

From the time Matt left what he now thought of as his “apprenticeship” with Smoke Jensen, he had never settled down in any one place. He knew that Smoke enjoyed his ranch, loved his wife Sally, and was comfortable as a stable businessman.

Matt had been tempted a few times to follow his mentor’s example and find a good woman with whom he could settle down. The closest any woman had ever come to filling that role was Kitty Wellington. Kitty had been one of the other orphans in the Soda Creek Home for Wayward Boys and Girls. A few years ago he had heard from her. A widow, she had inherited a horse ranch from her husband, and when she got into trouble, she sent for Matt. Sitting here now in the middle of the night, listening to the whisper of the wind in the trees, gave him the opportunity to think of his time with her.

The wind whispered as it came off the sails, and the sun created a million dancing diamonds on the surface of Lake Michigan. Matt and Kitty were seated on the afterdeck of the yacht, eating the meal the chef of the yacht had prepared for them. The yacht was about a mile off shore and from there, they had a great view of the city of Chicago. A passenger train was racing south along the lake shore.

“Where do you think that train is going?” Kitty asked.

“I don’t know,” Matt answered. “New Orleans, maybe?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to go to New Orleans?”

“Some day, perhaps,” Matt said. “But not today. I’m enjoying where I am right now.”

“So am I,” Kitty said. “I have had such a wonderful time in Chicago that I don’t even want to go back. I hate to say this, but I could almost be convinced to sell the ranch.”

“And do what?” Matt asked.

“The same thing you do,” Kitty said. “Just wander around.”

Matt shook his head. “No, Kitty, you don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t you say Tyrone, Prew, Crack, Jake and the others at the ranch were your family?”

Kitty was silent for a long moment. “Yes,” she finally replied. “Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Besides, you don’t want to quit now. The army not only bought all your horses, they told you they would buy as many as you could provide.”

“Did you hear them say that it was the finest bunch of horses they had bought all year?” Kitty asked, proudly.

“Yes, I did hear that,” Matt said. “And now, without the pressure of paying off a loan, the money you got from selling your horses to the army, and the guarantee they gave you for future contracts, you could just enjoy your ranch and your horses.”

“Do you think you could?” Kitty asked.

“Do I think I could what?”

“Enjoy my ranch, my horses, and me?” Kitty said.

“Kitty, I—”

“No,” Kitty said, holding up her hand and interrupting Matt in mid-sentence. She smiled at him. “Don’t answer that, Matt. Let me keep my dream.”

“Let you keep your dream? Oh, I don’t know. I’m not so sure about that,” Matt said, smiling.

“What do you mean, you aren’t so sure?”

“Kitty, you have just proven to me that your dreams seem to have a way of coming true.”¹

And of course there was Jennie Churchill. In the years since Matt had become an adult, he had had his experiences with women—some, like Kitty Wellington, came close to winning his heart—but most were women who did nothing more than provide him with pleasurable interludes.

He knew that he could have such an interlude with Jennie—she had all but told him that. But though it might seem to some that Matt lived a life without parameters, facing death with equanimity, enjoying the pleasures of women when the opportunity presented itself, he was a man of strong moral character. And that moral character said that he would keep inviolate the sanctity of marriage. But he knew that wasn’t the only reason he would not have anything to do with Jennie. There was something about the boy, Winston Churchill, that reminded Matt of himself. And he would do nothing to tarnish the image the boy had of him.

The next morning Teasdale arrived at Frewen Castle. When Benjamin showed him in to the parlor, he saw Frewen, Clara, and Jennie all with worried looks on their faces.

“William, have you heard?” Frewen asked.

“Yes,” Teasdale said. “That’s why I have come to wait with you.”

“That is very nice of you,” Frewen said.

Teasdale went over to the sofa where Jennie was sitting. “Mrs. Churchill, I’m so sorry this has happened. And now I feel guilty about it.”

“Why should you feel guilty?” Jennie asked.

“Because I made a horse available for the boy,” Teasdale said. “And if hadn’t been out riding by himself, he would have never been abducted.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Jennie said. “I’ve never seen Winnie happier than he has been these last several days, riding all over creation. If you hadn’t given him a horse to ride, I’m sure Moreton would have.”

“Benjamin,” Clara called.

“Yes, madam?”

“Would you please bring tea for everyone?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Benjamin said.

“I must say, you are taking this better than I would have thought,” Frewen said.

“Matt told me he would bring Winnie home safely,” Jennie said. “And I believe him.”

“Does he have any leads?”

“Only what the note said,” Frewen replied. Walking over to his desk, he picked the note up, then brought it to Teasdale who sat down to read it.

“It says they want him there by ten o’clock,” Teasdale said. “It’s probably about time for him to leave, don’t you think?”

Frewen chuckled. “He’s already there.”

“What?” Teasdale answered in surprise.

“He said he wanted to be there when they arrived, so he left in the middle of the night.”

“But isn’t that rather foolish of him?” Teasdale asked.

“Foolish? How?”

“They asked him to be there at ten o’clock, not in the middle of the night. Aren’t you afraid that if they feel they have been double-crossed that they might do harm to the boy?”

“I don’t feel that way at all,” Frewen said. “I think they wanted him there at ten o’clock because they planned to ambush him. This whole thing was merely to set a trap for Mr. Jensen. I’m sure you have heard that someone has posted a five thousand dollar reward, payable to anyone who can kill him.”

“Yes, the story is all over the valley,” Teasdale said. “And from what I understand, there have already been several who have tried, unsuccessfully, to collect the reward.”

“To their sorrow,” Frewen said. “So far six men have tried, and six men have died.”

Benjamin returned with the tea and for the next few moments the four sat around the parlor, sipping their tea in silence.

“Tell me truthfully, Moreton,” Teasdale said. “Considering everything that has happened, are you not having second thoughts about this ranching venture of yours?”

“I will confess that this entire enterprise has been much more difficult than I ever would have imagined, and I have tried to explain this to my backers. If the spring rains fail, grazing on the upper range is nonexistent. We’ve had two bitter winters. And when we do manage to get our cattle through the winter and drought, the herd has to be driven for five hundred miles before they can be shipped to Chicago. And then, on top of all that, I’ve had my herd decimated by this despicable Sam Logan character.”

“There is a way that you can avoid all this,” Teasdale said. “My offer to buy you out still goes.”

“I appreciate that, William, I really do,” Frewen said. “But there is no way I am going to turn my back on this now. I just can’t face the humiliation.”

“Humiliation? Moreton, you have had six of your cowboys killed, you have had nearly a third of your herd stolen, and now your nephew is in great peril. Humiliation is the absolute last thing that you should worry about.”

“Maybe humiliation was a bit too strong a word,” Frewen said. “I suppose the word I should use is pride. I have too much pride to quit now.”

“Moreton, I’m sure you are familiar with the saying: ‘Pride goeth before a fall.’”

“More specifically, Proverbs sixteen, verse eighteen, ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall,’” Frewen said. “Yes, I have considered that, believe me.”

“I have to hand it to you, Moreton, to stick it out the way you have.”

“I’ve been lucky to have a friend like you, William,” Frewen said. “Not only because I need a reminder of England now and then, but also because you have faced the same hardships I have, and you have stood up to them better. You are not only a friend, you are an inspiration.”

Teasdale cleared his throat. “Yes, well, uh, I suppose I had better get back to Thistledown. I just wanted to come over and let you know that I am thinking about you and the boy. Please feel free to call upon me if there is anything you need.”

“Thank you,” Frewen said.

Teasdale went back to the ladies, and bowing before each of them, lifted their hands to his lips.

“You are a very brave woman, Lady Churchill,” Teasdale said. “I do hope everything turns out well for you.”

“Thank you, Sir William.”

As Teasdale drove the buggy back to his ranch, he considered what Frewen had told him about Matt Jensen going to Nine Mile Creek in the middle of the night. He had not anticipated anything like that, and he was sure that Logan hadn’t, either. This would be a change in plans. Could Logan deal with it?

Surely he could. Jensen was only one man. One man against six.

Teasdale brightened as he thought about that, and he hurried the horse into a trot. He needed to get back to Thistledown to plan the next move after they got rid of Jensen.