Hostile Territory by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W.; Johnsto]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pinnacle Books
Published: 2023-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 29

Fort Belknap, unlike most forts back east and some of the ones out here on the frontier, didn’t have tall stockade walls made from logs enclosing it. In this region, where the climate was dry a lot of the year and vegetation became sparser the farther west you went, it would have been difficult to find trees that were big enough to furnish suitable logs.

Instead, for protection the fort relied on buildings sturdily constructed of stone, thick wooden beams, and adobe. Comanche arrows wouldn’t penetrate those walls, and most bullets wouldn’t, either.

Jamie heard a bugle blowing as they approached the fort later that day. One of the lookouts must have spotted them and was announcing their arrival, blatting out an off-key warning on a no doubt battered bugle.

Preacher chuckled and said, “Sounds like that boy needs some lessons, the way he’s got that horn caterwaulin’.”

“It’s getting the job done,” Jamie said. “Looks like the troops are assembling.”

Just in case the unknown visitors represented a threat of some sort, uniformed figures carrying rifles hurried out of buildings and hastily assembled on the parade ground that formed the fort’s centerpiece. Around that broad, open space were close to a dozen buildings.

The headquarters building, the commanding officer’s quarters, the other officers’ quarters, the barracks, the kitchen and mess hall, the infirmary, the armory, the sutler’s store, the blacksmith shop, the stable, and several storage sheds were all arranged to form a neat rectangle. An American flag hung limp on a flagpole at one end of the parade ground. Not much wind was moving this afternoon.

A few other buildings were scattered on the prairie outside the fort itself. One of them would be a civilian trading post, Jamie supposed, and another was bound to be a saloon and brothel. Civilization, such as it was out here, always followed the army. Anywhere there were soldiers, whiskey, gambling, and women of dubious virtue were in high demand.

A short distance west of the post stood half a dozen Indian lodges with blanket-draped figures sitting cross-legged in front of them. Dogs and kids ran around, barking and yelling.

Philip Saunders urged his horse alongside Jamie and Preacher and asked with obvious concern, “Are those savages camped here?”

“They’re friendly,” Jamie said. “They won’t bother us.”

“Blanket Injuns,” Preacher added. “You’ll find ’em hangin’ around most forts. They’ve given up fightin’ and just want to live in peace, takin’ whatever handouts the army decides to give ’em.”

The old mountain man frowned in disapproval as he spoke.

Saunders noted Preacher’s expression and said, “You don’t think it’s good that some of the Indians want to be peaceful instead of fighting?”

“Bein’ peaceful’s one thing. Givin’ up the way you and your people have always lived and becomin’ beggars . . . Well, I ain’t sure peace is worth it.”

“You’d rather they were out slaughtering white settlers?”

“No, I’d rather they were out killin’ buffalo and hadn’t never laid eyes on white folks, if you want the truth,” Preacher said. “I’ve heard folks from back east blatherin’ about how peaceful the Injuns are when they’re left alone.

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