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5.

Three days later and we were on the final leg of our journey to Fort Lincoln. In the month or so that it had taken us to reach our destination we had seen no sign of any hostiles and the only real hardships we had faced were the ones whipped up by the bitch called Mother Nature. She had unleashed a few storms and some heavy summer rain but we had pulled through and we were now, literally, within sight of the wooded blockaded fortress. Munroe and I were sat on the buckboard of the wagon and Cody was sat aloft his mount as we stared down from the heights to the fort that was nestling in the very centre of a bowl shaped valley. The sun was bright and there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

"There she is, boys, fort Lincoln. Welcome to your new, albeit, temporary home!" said Cody with a flourish as he slapped his mounts backside with his quirt and turned the animal down the road toward fort Lincoln.
Munroe took to whooping and a hollering as we drove full tilt after the rapidly disappearing form of Buffalo Bill Cody.

We had to place our bandanas over our mouths in an attempt to keep out the choking dust that had been thrown up by his speeding mount.
A few minutes later and we were passing through the gates of the fort that had been hastily opened when the guards spotted our approach.

Inside it was a hive of activity.

Men in blue were going about their daily chores and keeping themselves busy with this, that and the other. The fort itself was of the standard layout for such an establishment. There was the parade ground that was surrounded by wood built buildings consisting of everything from the main barracks to the small blacksmiths shop. There was, even a saloon cum Sutlers that made up the final corner of the buildings. Naturally enough, Munroe and I made straight for the saloon whilst Cody went about his business with the captain.

The saloon was comfortable enough and rather typical of its kind. The small, mahogany bar was in the far corner and several tables and chairs littered the floor space. Behind the bar hung a little rust speckled mirror and to one side of that, there hung a faded painting of a naked lady complete with water fountain and hairbrush.
There was no one in the place apart from a tall, thin fellow with slicked down hair and huge moustaches that he had waxed into sharp points. He was standing behind the bar in a collarless shirt and grubby looking apron. Not unreasonably, we assumed - correctly - that he was the bartender. It was hot in the saloon and the strong odour of stale sweat and vomit assaulted our nostrils. But we wanted a beer and nothing was going to stop us from achieving that goal.

"Take deep breaths, Poncho," stated Munroe as we approached the bar. "That way the stink won't last as long."
There was a bland smile from the skinny bartender as he greeted us with, "Well, hello gentlemen. What's yer pleasure?"
"Two beers," I answered. "You got any food about here?"
"Why certainly. Finest steak in all o' Wyoming complete with all the trimmings!" stated the thin bartender happily.
"Two steaks an' two beers." I said as we made our way toward one of the tables by the window so that we could observe every day military life from the comfort of some easy chairs.
The frothing beers were duly delivered and we sank those first glasses down greedily and ordered two more. As he prepared them, the thin man started to get chatty.
"You boys ride in with Mr. Cody?" he asked.
"Reckon so." Replied Munroe confidently.

"You boys gonna help him sort out that business with old Red Deer?" he did not wait for an answer as he continued with, "What a mess that is. He's a bold bastard, and no mistake. It's like he wants to pick a fight with the military," he disappeared at this point for a moment only to return with two plates full of prime beef steak with all of the promised trimmings. As he set our meals down before us, he went on with his part of the conversation.

"We've had a lot o' trouble with him these past few months. Him and his bunch o' renegades been raiding farms and some of the smaller ranches here about and doing, more or less, as he damned well pleases. Military have tried their best to apprehend him and his followers but to no avail. The cavalry boys aren't trackers and the local Injuns won't lend a hand no matter what for fear of repercussions from Red Deer if they do. No, it's gonna take Mr. Cody and you fellers to track down Red Deer. When ya do, then the blue coats can go on in and sort out the whole darn mess. The sooner the better too. Course, the women they took 'll be no use to any white man anymore. They'll o' been ruined…violated by that red skinned bastard and his pack o' rats." The thin bartender' face reddened as he spat out the words. Munroe and I merely looked at each other. There was nothing we could say.

Just at that very moment, Cody strode into the room with an officer in full dress uniform behind him.
"Ah," began Cody happily. "Here ye be, thought as much. Gentlemen allow me to introduce you to captain Francis Miller of the U.S. 3rd Cavalry."
Captain Miller didn't look much older than me but he carried his rank proudly. His blue uniform was spotless as was his general appearance. He had neatly clipped hair and moustaches, dark penetrating eyes that seemed to bore into a feller's soul. It was as though he knew what you were thinking before you said it out loud. His accent was that of a Bostonian.
"Pleased to meet you, gentlemen, Mr. Cody has told me all about your journey here. You must be tired and in need of some rest. We can address our business come the morrow, if you wish."
I met his gaze as I replied, "Well, that's mighty fine of you, sir. Soon as we've finished our meal and had us a bath we'll sleep the rest of the day out all right."
We were dog-tired and the meal and beers had only accentuated the fact. The amiable captain Miller showed us personally to our purpose built scout H.Q.
"I trust you will all be comfortable here, gentlemen." He said as he left us to our own devices within the confines of the small log cabin that was situated right on the opposite end of the square to the saloon.
We soon settled in and were grateful to have a proper bed to sleep in. It was the first time I had slept in one in over eighteen months. Once I'd washed the dust and grime from my body, I slept like a newborn baby for the next seventeen hours straight.

The next morning after a hearty breakfast, captain Miller filled us in on all the details and we set about gathering together the essentials that we would need for our journey. After that, Munroe and I signed papers that placed us fair and square in the hands of the military for the next three months. A contract that paid us five dollars a day - a incredible amount even for a scout, at the time; and all found to boot.
Pack mules were drawn from the stables as well as three fine, hardy ponies along with all the tack we would need. Next the mules were packed with all the possibles including fifty boxes of .44 WCF ammunition. We had lever action rifles and pistols of the same calibre.

By high noon we were ready to leave.

We bid a hearty farewell to fort Lincoln and set out on our way west in an attempt to pick up on Red Deer's trail. We knew that it wasn't going to be easy but we had to try but the words of the thin bartender kept rolling around in my mind.
They'll o' been ruined…violated by that red skinned bastard and his pack o' rats…
Neither Cody, Munroe or myself had any idea what trials nor tribulations lay ahead. Maybe if we had of done we would never of left the safety of the fort.