Smoke chuckled. “Mr. Booker, do you, by any chance, plan to be a lawyer?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then, let’s make a deal, right here. If some zealous prosecutor decides that he would like to try me for killing someone like oh, let’s say, Ted Casey, I would like to hire you to defend me.”
“Ted Casey is the one you lynched, isn’t he?”
“Lynched?” Wes said. “Listen, I heard that story firsthand. If ever any man deserved to hang, it was Ted Casey.”
“But he was hung without a trial, wasn’t he?” Booker asked.
“He was.”
“Looking back on it now, would you do things differently?” Booker asked.
“Yes.”
“Ha! I thought so. What would you do differently?”
“I wouldn’t have used a new rope,” Smoke said.
The others laughed, then, when Booker started to speak again, McGrath held up his hand.
“Booker, Mr. Jensen has been more than generous with you. We’ll have no more inquisition.”
“Yes, sir,” Booker said, contritely.
Old Main Building
“How was your lunch?” Professor Armbruster asked.
“Quite interesting,” Smoke replied without further elaboration.
“Well, are you ready to resume the session?”
“I am.”
“We left off with John and Claire going back home,” Professor Armbruster said.
“Yes.”
John’s cabin
After John, Claire, and the baby returned from St. Louis they put in a garden. As John explained, “wild plants will do in a pinch, but there’s nothing improves the table like fresh radishes, onions, tomatoes, lettuce, potatoes, carrots, beans, cabbage, and watermelon.”
John worked hard on his garden, and soon he was raising a bountiful crop. Already they had radishes, and the tomatoes were coming along as well.
Because trapping was nonproductive in the summer, John had a lot of time to work in the garden and he enjoyed it. He also enjoyed Claire’s genuine enthusiasm at seeing the plants grow. She had no experience whatever with gardening, so it was all new and exciting to her.
John was also enjoying his son, particularly the infant’s reaction to everything around him. Claire had made a flute from a sumac branch, and John was learning to play it.
“Now, listen to this, Kirby,” he said, lifting the flute to his lips. He began playing, and to Claire’s surprise, was actually playing a song.
“What is that song?” she asked.
“It is called ‘Old Folks at Home.’ Some call it ‘Suwanee River.’”
“How can you do that? You have not played the flute before.”
John chuckled. “Once you know how to play the scale, the rest is easy,” he said.
He played a few more songs, then handed to flute to Claire, who played music from her background. The music was melodious, consisting of a lot of halftones, but there was a soulful, almost mournful quality to it.
“That was beautiful,” John said when she finished. “What was it?”
“It is a prayer to the Great Spirit. It has words. Would you like to hear them?”
“Yes.”
Claire sang the song, first in her own language, then again, this time in English.
“Oh Great Spirit whose voice I hear in the winds
Whose breath gives life to the world
I come to you as one of your many children
I am small and weak.”
“Why, that is beautiful, Claire,” he said. He embraced her. “I never thought, when I left Pennsylvania, that I would wind up with an Indian woman, let alone, that I would fall in love with her. I love you, Claire.”
“I did not think I would ever love,” Claire said. “It is only a word, I thought. But you have taught me that it is much more than a word.”
John embraced her again, then he heard the sound of approaching horses, and he separated from her, and, picking up his rifle, stepped out in front of his cabin. It wasn’t that he feared every sound, but the cabin was so remote that any visitor became suspect.
There was only one direct approach to the cabin, and he jacked a round into the chamber of his rifle and watched, and waited.
He saw a body of men approaching and he knew, immediately, that they were soldiers. He assumed they might be lost, and he put his rifle down, and waited until they approached. What he saw was eight soldiers, being led by a lieutenant.
“Excuse me, sir. Are you John Jackson?” the lieutenant asked when they reached the front of his cabin.
“I am. What can I do for you, Lieutenant?”
“Mr. Jackson, I am Lieutenant Murphy, from Fort Shaw. Major Clinton’s compliments, sir, and he wonders if you and your wife would do him the honor of paying a visit to the fort?”
“Would this be anything more than a courtesy call, Lieutenant?” John asked.
“I believe the major has a favor he wishes to ask of you, sir. But I have not been made privy to what that favor might be.”
“All right, Lieutenant Murphy, we’ll join you,” John said.
“What is it?” Claire asked when John went back into the cabin.
“Major Clinton wants us to pay a call on him at Fort Shaw,” John said.
“Why?”
“I don’t know, the lieutenant didn’t say. I’m not sure he even knows. But, it’s never a bad thing to have a good relationship with the military, so I think we should go.”
“What about the garden?”
“It’ll be all right for a few days.”
With baby Kirby riding in a cradleboard hanging from the side of Claire’s horse, John and Claire rode back to Fort Shaw with Lieutenant Murphy and his military detachment.
Fort Shaw was located on the south side of Sun River, constructed of palisade logs, and perched high on the end of a bluff that protruded over the water. There were projecting blockhouses on corners opposite each other, from which the soldiers had a good view of the approach.
The front gate to the post was tightly closed as Lieutenant Murphy and his party approached.
“Hello, the post!” Lieutenant Murphy shouted. “Open the gate!”
The gate was opened early enough so that there was no need for the group to break stride. They rode right through with Lieutenant Murphy returning the salute of the private at the gate. When they reached the parade ground, Lieutenant Murphy halted the detail.
“Dismount!” he ordered.
Claire looked John, and he smiled. “That’s not us,” he said.
The soldiers dismounted.
“Fall out!” Lieutenant Murphy ordered.
As the soldiers led their mounts to the stable, Lieutenant Murphy indicated than John and Claire should follow him. They rode to the headquarters building then dismounted, and tied their horses off at the hitching rail.
John took Kirby from his cradleboard, and handed him to Claire, then they followed Lieutenant Murphy inside.
“Sergeant Major, is Major Clinton in his office?” Lieutenant Murphy asked.
“Yes, sir,” the first sergeant major answered.
Murphy went over to the door leading to the commanding officer’s office, tapped lightly, then pushed it open and stuck his head in.
“Sir, I have Mr. Jackson.”
John couldn’t hear the major’s answer, but he did hear the lieutenant’s response.
“Yes, sir, she is with him.” The lieutenant turned toward John. “Come ahead,” he said.
“John, the baby and I will wait here,” Claire said.