SEPTEMBER 8, 1861

The "Devil" Texan - Part Four
by Michael Quebec
based upon characters created by Ella Davis
The Lone Ranger and related characters were created
by Fran Striker and George W. Trendle

The heat in the iron box was beyond sweltering. Both Thaddeus and Justin could feel the boils starting to form on their skins and it seemed as if every ounce of water in their bodies was being sweated out. The throbbing in their temples, the light-headedness, and the queasiness in their stomachs added to their worsening conditions. However, to Justin Calhoun, a half-caste Oglala Lakota, this was merely the easiest way for a warrior to achieve the visions, blessings from Wakantanka, The Great Spirit.

Justin had never met Yellow Bird, his mother, nor for that matter, his white father, Samuel Calhoun. However, both he and his sister knew they were different. Always knowing the white side first hand, Justin sought to find his Indian side. Though he would never be fully accepted by either people, he learned and took that part of his heritage in.

The vision did indeed come. Though ‘right-minded’ whites would call what he was experiencing was a hallucination, brought on by severe heat stroke and dehydration, but Justin Calhoun knew that this was indeed a vision.

In his mind's eye, he saw a circle of Indians in council. These weren't Lakota, these weren't Sioux, no, these were their one-time enemies, the people who the Lakota had driven from the Black Hills nearly eighty-winter counts before, the Kiowas. Justin could tell, because their chiefs, well known for their defiance of the Texans, were in attendance. There was Satank, the old warrior, whose haggard appearance, gray hairs, and long, Mongol moustache disguised the noble, strong warrior beneath. There was also Setiente. The smiling, jovial warrior who lived every day to it's fullest by indulging in life's pleasures. And to Setiente, there was no greater pleasure than the rush of battle. Also in attendance was Kicking Bird, the diplomat of the Kiowa nation. Though a warrior with no peer, Kicking Bird always spoke for peace. The important men of the Kiowas, as well as their allies, the Comanches and the Plains Apache, were in attendance because of the
acts of one man. 

Justin Calhoun didn't recognize him, but he can sense the Kiowa warrior's strength of will. "Tonto," called out old man Satank. "The Texans are our sworn enemies! They collect bounties on our scalps and violate the women of our tribe. Then they dig in the bowels of Mother Earth, taking from her, not to live, not to honor The Great Spirit, but for greed! For the yellow metal and the paper it brings to take our hunting grounds from the weaker chiefs! They have always done these things, always killing more than they need, killing off the buffalo, killing off the land . . . killing off us! And now, you bring one of them into our camp? Why, Tonto?" The man called Tonto stood up, carefully weighing his words before giving his answer. Justin could see that this man had struggled with that very question earlier.

"Great chiefs of the Kiowa nation, as well as you who are our brothers, the Comanche and Prairie Apaches, I have asked myself this ever since I found him, nearly dead from an ambush from atop our sacred hiding place. What makes a man an enemy or a friend? Is it the color of his skin, the shape of his nose? What makes him a brother? The same mother, the same father? The Comanche and the Prairie Apaches are our brothers, though their tongue and their ways are different from ours. This man is white. But he saved my life as a boy. He became my brother. He is not the same as those who have invaded our lodges and killed our women and children. Like many of you, I would know something of that. I still visit the burial scaffold of my wife and daughter. That hurt will never go away." Justin could see that the Indians fell silent. "If the day comes that he proves himself to be the enemy of our people, then it shall be my lance that seeks out his liver! But until that
day comes, let him be judged by his deeds and his alone!" In the eye of Justin's mind, he saw that the Southern Plains chiefs fell silent. With that, the vision changed. Now Justin saw a young man. Justin couldn't see the young man's face clearly, but he could see that he was strong. Justin could also sense his determination and his sadness. The young man was kneeling by some recently dug graves, holding a badge of a Texas lawman. The grave he kneeled over was an empty one, while the others were covered up and marked. The young man said, "From this day forward, John Reid is dead.  He died along with those others at the foot of the canyon as we were shot down like animals! Dan, brother, I swear by all that's holy that I shall dedicate my life to make sure that those murderers shall be brought to justice. I shall not rest until the West will be made safe for decent people. I shall dedicate my life to this cause until the day comes that I join you, brother." The young man arose and slowly put on a mask, covering his face.   The Kiowa warrior that Justin saw in the previous vision came forward on a brown horse. Behind him, trailed another horse, a White Stallion. The Masked Man came forward towards the White Stallion as the Kiowa warrior released its reins.

The vision faded. Justin was now awake. The heat was gone, the effects that it had upon his body was not. Thaddeus spoke weakened by the effects of the days now faded heat.  "Ju-jus?" 

Slowly, Justin answered, "Yeah."  

"You-you hangin' in there . . . with your wound an all?" 

"Hangin' in there."

"Still . . . got to get a doctor for ya. The wound . . . get infected . . . turn to poison." 

"Thanks for reminding me." 

Thaddeus didn't answer that remark. He just smirked. Thaddeus then continued. "Cooler now." 

Justin answered, "Just the change in the weather. Nighttime. Soon it'll be freezing. So much that you could feel your teeth shake off. It's like a fever. First the heat, then the chills." 

Thaddeus interrupted, "Thanks for reminding me." Justin smiled. His cruel kidding worked. However, his worsening condition was no joke, and Thaddeus was right. He had to see a doctor and get the bullet removed. Thaddeus started pounding on the walls. "Open up out there, ya hear me! Open up! If ya gotta keep me in here, fine, but this man's injured! He needs a doctor!" To himself, he said, "Pack of murderers!" Thaddeus resigned himself to the situation.

"It's useless," said Justin.  

"I had to try. It's better than sittin' around, waitin' to freeze to death." 

"We won't freeze. Long as we set our minds to it," said Justin.

Thaddeus just shook his head, deciding not to argue with Justin's beliefs. He had previously stripped down to keep cool. Now he was covering himself quickly as the chill inside began to increase. Thaddeus, wanting to distract himself from the cold, continued talking. "Had me this crazy dream earlier. You know, when the heat got so bad, I just plumb passed out. Anyways, it was weird. There was this group of Indians. I recognized some of 'em. Kiowa's and Comanches. Some of their chiefs had led raids on the settlements near Comancheria when me and-." He was about to mention Heyes, but then caught himself.  "a buddy of mine were workin' in Texas. Anyways, they took in this fella who was standin' by some graves. Guess he was a bandit or somethin’. He-." 

Justin cut in. "Wore a mask?" 

Thaddeus was surprised. "Yeah, yeah, he wore a mask. Anyways, this one Indian, he gave him this-."

Justin cut in again. "White horse." 

"Yeah. What the hell is this? I talk to myself when I was havin' that there fever dream?" 

"Wasn't a fever dream, Jones," said Justin. "It was a vision. We both seen it. It was a
gift from the Great Spirit. It was our salvation." The cold started to set in.

Sunset at Fort Laramie this day was tense. A cavalry troop out on patrol came riding in.  Half of them were seriously injured and two of them were dead with arrows in their backs. The man at the stables asked, "What the hell happened?" 

"What do you think?" Answered Lieutenant Jackson Ward, the troop's leader. "Another attack by the Sioux! Pretty soon this fort'll be a death trap for us unless we ride out and settle things with those red devils!" Ward then called out while referring to the injured men. "Get a doctor for these men!" He then referred to the dead soldiers, with genuine remorse and sadness. "And get a preacher for these two."

"Indian troubles are getting worse by the day," said Colonel Hank McLaughlin, the post commander. Inside the doctor's quarters, he paced, as Doctor Lee Caldwell was removing the arrow from Sheriff Lom Trevors, who was unconscious. Also in the office was scout Jim Bridger along with the Masked Man and Tonto. 

The Masked Man asked, "Will he live doctor?"

The old doctor responded, "Meaning, did you get to him in time. I don't know, son. Got the point out." He held the arrowhead up. "Sheet metal, I'd say. Funny. The Indians are so dependent on the goods of the white man, now, that even their arrow-points come from us. Had this been their traditional stone or bone points, I could've had a hell of a time removing the chips from him. Anyways, we'll just have to wait and see if I got to him before infection has had a time to set in. Well that's all I can do for him. Make sure someone keeps watch over him. Let me know if there's any change. Been at it for hours, I need some air." The doctor finished up and started to leave. He then turned towards Trevors, who was still unconscious in bed, and said, "In a way, it's good that he's still out of it. If I had to go I'd rather have it be in my asleep." The doctor then exited his own office. 

The Masked Man came forward. "That was no Indian that shot this man."   

"Yeah, we have him locked up. Officially, being held for questioning for his knowledge of the Indian raids,” said the Colonel.

The Masked Man interjected, "Precaution against leaks, Colonel?" 

"Kind of hard for a man to know who he can trust these days. As it stands, only my most trusted officers are involved in our investigations and only a few of them at that," replied the Colonel. 

"Understood," said the Masked Man, who noticed that the Colonel was looking at Tonto suspiciously. "You can put your mind at ease, Colonel. Tonto?" 

Tonto came forward. "My people are Kiowas, Colonel, from the South. The Sioux drove us their from our homes in the Black Hills. I have no allegiance to them." 

"Satisfied?" Asked the Masked Man. 

The Colonel nodded. "We've interrogated that would be Indian prisoner whom you brought in. He's either a very hard case or-." 

"Or what?" Asked the Masked Man. 

"Or he's more scared of the man he works for than of us." 

The Masked Man turned to Bridger. "Jim, you say there's a lot of talk in the Sioux camps, blaming this post for a lot of their missing relatives." 

Jim Bridger came forward. "It's not just talk. The young warriors of the tribes are saying that the soldiers here are kidnapping their relatives, the ones camped nearby." 

"'Laramie Loafers'?" Asked the Masked Man. 

"That's what they call 'em," said Bridger.

"The old man, Sitting Bull, he says it's the white man's way, taking slaves. That's why we're fighting back East. He says now is the time to drive us from their hunting grounds and rescue their ‘blinded' relatives who are slaves to our ways." 

Tonto interjected, "The old one is pushing for a war, then." 

The Masked Man noticed his friend's willingness to judge the Sioux in a bad light. "You say some trails were set?" Asked the Masked Man. 

Bridger responded, "Yeah, leading towards the ridge just before the road here." 

"Sounds like someone is anxious to set the Sioux against this post," said the Masked Man. 

Lieutenant Jackson Ward came busting in. "Set them against us? They are against us!  And the sooner we all start acting like military men instead of fools, the safer this country will be!" 

"Lieutenant!" Yelled out the Colonel angrily. Ward snapped to attention. "It is customary to knock before entering a premises. Or has military protocol been usurped out here on the Plains!" 

Ward apologized, "Sorry sir. It's just . . . my men, ten of them injured. Two of them dead, killed with arrows in their backs! One of them was young Fred Miner. I was going to be best man at his wedding in two months. Now I gotta go tell his fianc�e' that there'll be no more wedding." The room fell silent. Ward then looked to Tonto. "What is it now, Colonel? We fighting Indians or fighting with 'em?" 

The Colonel went to him. "I regret what happened to your friend, lieutenant. But he was a
soldier." 

"And this is war," answered Ward. "With all due respect, I just hope you remember that, Colonel." Ward then tipped his hat and exited, giving Tonto a dirty look as he left. 

"I apologize for his behavior, gentlemen," said the Colonel. He then referred to Tonto. "To both of you." 

The Masked Man continued, "There's a mining town and trading post nearby, along the Oregon Trail, correct?" 

"We've had our suspicions about Horse Creek and Fort Bartholemew," said the Colonel. 

"Fort Bartholemew?" Asked the Masked Man.

"That mean something to you?" Asked the Colonel. 

"Maybe." The Masked Man paced. "When I was officially requested to look into this by Washington, I was following a lead on the man who was responsible for my brother's death.  Now I'm beginning to think I'm back on that case." 

"What do you mean?" The Colonel asked. 

"Just a suspicion I have, Colonel." The Masked Man then said, "Kind of unusual to have a white settlement this far North. So far, the lands from the Nebraska to Montana have been Sioux lands, with only the Oregon Trail and the forts along it to be used by the white man. How long has this Fort Bartholemew been in existence?" 

The Colonel answered, "Both the Trader's Post and the town nearby, more or less about two years. Not too long after the silver vein was discovered. Big Eastern corporations staked their claim on the place. The legality of the claims were always suspect and this corporation had enough men and arms to chase out any miners that were still nearby. I'll be square with you. That so-called 'trading post' has more men and more arms than even we do, mostly because a lot of our men have been called back East to fight." 

Tonto interjected, "If they are the ones responsible for the kidnappings and they are so well armed, why bother framing Fort Laramie?" 

"That's a good question," said the Masked Man. 

Bridger said, "Maybe they just want to avoid a fight if they can." 

The Masked Man continued. "Maybe. Maybe it's something even more. Jim, you're familiar with the Northern Tribes. If you can reason with them, convince their chiefs
to hold their warriors in check. We need the time." 

Bridger said, "A couple of months ago, I would have said I could talk the chiefs out of war. Now, with the way things are, I'm just another 'wasichu' to them. That means 'takes the fat' in Lakota. To them, that's all we white men have ever done."

The Masked Man paced. "Then maybe you need somebody to come along who has no stake in this to help plead our case for peace. Somebody who might even have a reason to fight the whites. Such a man with you certainly wouldn't have any reason to lie." They all turned to Tonto. 

"I've no intention of staying in a Sioux camp!" Exclaimed Tonto. 

"Tonto-" tried the Masked Man.

"I wouldn't trust a Sioux any more than I would trust a rattlesnake!" Said Tonto. "There's no talking to those people!" 

The Masked Man said, "Tonto, I need your help." 

"Why would they listen to me, a Kiowa? They'd only laugh before they threw me out of camp. My people are the ones they defeated." 

The Masked Man said, "Your people have also suffered because of the actions of white men like those we're after. They know that. They'll listen to you." 

Tonto reluctantly nodded and went with Bridger, who said, "We best leave for the Oglala camp soon as possible. We'll be safer in the dark, since most of the warriors don't like to fight at night. Bowstrings get wet with the moisture in the night air." 

Tonto added, "That is if they're only using bows and arrows." Bridger and Tonto left The Masked Man then said, "I want to have a little talk with our prisoner, Colonel." The Colonel nodded his agreement.

It was early evening at the Lucky Strike Mine. Jedidiah, his wrists tied, was brought into the office of the sergeant by an armed guard. This sergeant was the same man who had thrown in Justin Calhoun and Thaddeus Jones in the box a few hours earlier. "Well what do we have here?" Asked the sergeant as he stood up from his desk. 

The guard responded, "New worker, sergeant. Sheriff Newsom wants him marked down in the books. He'll be one of the replacements for the two you had to discipline today." 

The sergeant smiled sarcastically at Jedidiah, gloating. "You know what he means
by 'disciplining?'" 

"No," said Jedidiah.

"I want you to take a look at something, right here." He motioned for Jedidiah to come to the window. The iron box was clearly in view. "We got a lot of ways to cure a man of bein' high-spirited. But that thing's our pride and joy, mostly because it's simple. It's just a box. A box that turns into an oven by day and ice by night. If our two 'examples' in there are lucky, they'll be dead before morning." The sergeant laughed. Jedidiah did not. "You don't seem to amused by me. Am I boring you prisoner 981?" 

Jedidiah knew that the numbering was a part of de-humanizing him. He answered, "No.  You're not 'boring' me 'sergeant.'" 

The sergeant laughed. "Oh. And one more thing." The sergeant grabbed Jedidiah by the collar. "Don't ever get me mad." He then delivered a right cross that sent Jedidiah to the floor. Jedidiah looked up, but he knew that with his wrists bound and the armed guard present, he had better hold his temper. "Take him to his quarters gently," said the sergeant. The guard picked Jedidiah up off of the floor and escorted him out of the office.

Untied, Jedidiah was shoved into his quarters. There were bunk beds and several prisoners inside. One of them, a small man in his fifties, named Sim, laughed. "Looks like we got some new meat!" 

"Shut up, Sim!" Said Link, a strong, tall black man who was another prisoner. "Tryin' to get some sleep, here." 

Jedidiah went to what he thought was an empty bunk bed and sat down, but another worker, a big, strong man, came over to Jedidiah and said, "You're in my bunk." Without saying anything, Jedidiah got up and went over to another empty bed. "That's my bunk, too," said the big man. Jedidiah shook his head, then tried to sit down on an empty spot on the floor, but then the big man said, "That's my spot, too." 

Jedidiah stood up. "Well I'm just a little tired of moving." The others moved back, making room for the fight they knew was about to happen. 

"Ain't you just a little bit small to be causin' trouble sonny?" The big man, at 6' 2" and 190 lbs., towering over the 5' 5" and 140 lb. Jedidiah, gripped him by the collar, ready to heave him out of the window. However, Jedidiah squatted abruptly, dropping his full weight down to the ground, planting himself, while simultaneously reaching over with his left arm, hooking and trapping the big man's arms at the crook of the elbows. Jedidiah then reached underneath and gripped the big man's testicles hard. He dropped to the floor with a moan of pain, lying on the ground in a fetal position. The men in the compound looked on, wide-eyed and surprised. They all gave Jedidiah space as he took his choice of a bunk. 

Link went to him. "I ain't never seen anything like that. That fella's mean. He once broke a man's back just 'cause he sneezed near him." 

"That's 'cause no one ever stood up to him, before. They let his size intimidate them. I don't scare easy." 

"Name's Link." 

"Jedidiah."  They shook hands. 

"You look like someone I can trust." 

"Trust? For what?" 

Link eased up close to him. "Escape." 

Jedidiah shook his head. "Not interested." 

"What?" 

"You heard me." 

"Look, sooner or later every one of us is gonna get worked to death in them caves! I knew two fellas, just like you, got themselves buried in the mines!" 

"Look I got my reasons. Now if you want to risk your fool neck against armed guards, go ahead. But leave me out of it!"

"You don't scare easy, huh?" Link, frustrated, left Jedidiah alone. 

Sim went over to him. He was laughing. "What's funny? Asked Jedidiah. 

"Him. He's always gettin' them fool notions about escapin'. Hell, if Sioux braves ain't made it, how's he expect us to?" 

"Sioux, here?" 

"Yeah. They're housed in the other compound. I guess the birds what run this place don't want to take no chances in them red savages takin' our hair in the middle of the night.  Not that they really care what happens with us. Link's right. They'll bury all of us eventually."  

"Then maybe we ought to consider Link's plan." 

"Why rush to gettin' killed. Got to hang on to every little bit of life you can, especially when it's all you've got left. Anyway, things could be worse. Them two in the box out there, I'll take my chances in the mines over that, any day."  

Off-handed, Jedidiah asked, "Who's in there?" 

"New meat, just like you. One of 'ems a half-breed, I hear." 

That got Jedidiah's attention. "Half-breed?" 

"Yeah. Him and his friend Jones, I think was his last name." 

Jedidiah grabbed Sim. "When were they put in there?" 

Startled, Sim said, "I-I don't know! You-you're hurtin' me, mister!" 

Jedidiah released him. "Sorry. Those two in there, when were they put in?" 

"Earlier today. They usually leave 'em in there for three days. 'Course by then, there usually ain't much left to take out. They ain't friends of yours, are they?" 

Jedidiah didn't answer. He simply knew that he had to do something for Justin and Thaddeus who were prisoners in the box.

The Masked Man was left alone in the cell with the bowman. He tossed the bowman against the cell door. "Talk! You know where he's hiding, the layout of the fort! I want to know!" 

The bowman replied, "I'm not tellin' you anything!" The bowman took a swing at the Masked Man who easily blocked the punch and put his hip into the man, tossing him over his shoulder to the ground. 

Holding the man by his extended arm, the Masked Man locked it at the elbow, securing it with his armpit and his clasped hands. He then kneeled on one knee while putting his other knee against the man's shoulder and neck. The man screamed.  "You want to keep this arm?" The Masked Man exerted more pressure, making the man scream. "Where is Butch Cavendish?" 

The man nervously replied, "Alright. All right. I'll talk." The Masked Man let the
man up. The man then staggered to the walls of his cell.

"Where's Cavendish hidden and why'd you try to frame the Sioux?" 

"Cavendish is beneath your reach, masked man!" With that, the bowman bit his own tongue hard. Within seconds, he was on the floor, bleeding to death. 

The Masked Man called out, "Colonel!  Colonel!" Colonel McLaughlin and two armed guards came running in, unlocking the cell. The Masked Man knelt over, trying to steady the dying man. 

"What the hell happened?" Asked the Colonel. "Bit his own tongue to prevent himself from talking. Get him to the doctor, quick!" The two guards grabbed the chocking man and rushed him out of the cell. 

"What kind of leader instills that much loyalty, that much fear, in his men that they would be willing to kill themselves rather than betray him?" Asked the Colonel. 

The Masked Man answered, "The kind that I've been trailing for two years. Colonel, I think it's time I visited Horse Creek."  

Jim Bridger and Tonto were on their mounts, riding up to where the last known location of the Oglala camp. Bridger said, "We'll be there, soon. I guess I can understand what you're feeling, Tonto." 

"Do you? These Sioux are quick to point out whenever they've been wronged. But then they laugh when they talk of my people, especially when they talk of how many Kiowa their warriors have killed."  

"Maybe it's time for the Indian nations to put past grudges aside. The new ways are coming. Army forts and the settlers will be swarming over the Plains." 

"You mean stand together?" Scoffed Tonto. "Like the white man who is so 'united?'  That's why your people are killing each other in the East. I choose my friends, Bridger, and my enemies." Annoyed, Tonto then rode ahead of Bridger, who just shook his head, knowing it was useless to argue. At that point, shots rang out, Scout, Tonto's pony reared up. Tonto then regained control and rode back to Bridger. However, before either of them could find cover, they were soon surrounded. A party of twelve Sioux warriors had them surrounded. "Indians don't like to fight at night, huh?" Said Tonto to the surprised Jim Bridger. "They don't not unless they're armed with guns!"  All of the Sioux were armed with repeating rifles, not bows and arrows. Tonto knew that perhaps it was time for him to sing his death song.