Bad Apple by Lancaster Hill

Author:Lancaster Hill [Hill, Lancaster]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 2020-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-four

Fort Gibson, May 1836

NED’S STORY

We were no longer alone.

A sidewinder had joined us, the estimable Deems Pompey Hulbert. I guess I had always had that sense of him at the Hick, but it had never made itself so clear as when he approached in shadow and stayed there during John’s story.

“Send your story off okay?” I asked after acting as if I hadn’t felt him lurking there.

“Written, edited, and dispatched,” he spoke, sipping from a flask filled, I was guessing, with the commander’s rum—the preferred drink of Colonel Gearhart. “I did not mean to hear, but I have a reporter’s ears. You spoke of stolen guns?”

“I did,” John replied, surprising me with both the strength in his voice and a newfound willingness to engage the reporter. John even turned to the man as he addressed him—also unexpected.

Hulbert stepped into the light. I could see, from his satisfied expression, that he believed he had touched a mushy spot in the peach—something to stick his thumb through and touch the pit.

“You heard of these?” I asked. “You being a newsman, after all,” I added, appealing to his professional vanity.

“Everyone knows that army rifles end up in the hands of Comanche and Creek,” he said. He nodded toward the open compound of the fort. “These Indians aren’t just here for the food and clothes. This is where they swap silver for guns.”

John’s gaze shifted to the idle red men milling near the gate, which was the only area where the savages were permitted freedom of movement. It was strange how they stayed apart from the Mexican guests; I couldn’t tell who was avoiding who, which band felt superior to the other. In my world, only one of those bunches was allowed in a saloon and, even then, Mexicans were not welcome at the bar itself. That wasn’t my doing; to me, they were just paying customers. White men, though, were partial about who they drank with. As though, passed out on the floor and having to be carried out the door, men had cause to feel exclusive.

“What about those Mexicans?” John asked.

“Those?” Hulbert said, drawing breath as if he was about to sing. “Those Mexicans are too afraid to move. You see, they did not align themselves with the cause of freedom, so in Texas as well as here they are considered cowards and traitors. If these people and the Mexicans of Texas can reconcile on neutral ground in the United States, it is the belief of Colonel Gearhart and his superiors that they can be valuable allies in establishing future peace between Texas and their brethren in Mexico.”

“Or they can be used to organize the transfer of American guns to Mexico,” I suggested. “That puts Texas square between two potential suitors. I hear talk at the Hick. If Mexico is emboldened, and armed, they may return to Texas. Where, then, would the new republic turn but to Washington for assistance?”

“Which would lead to an American occupation force and then annexation,” Hulbert said, nodding.

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