Skirmish at the Barn

Young William Cody and the two Army men reined in beside Jack Harvey when he held up his hand and came to a stop. The snow, now falling heavily, had nearly obliterated the tracks they had just made.

“We’ll never find them thieving Pawnee in this storm,” Harvey said, gloved hand wiping snow crystals from his graying beard. “Better find some shelter ourselves before dark.”

If anybody knew the plains and the winter weather, it was grizzled, old Jack Harvey, Billy thought. He’d learned a lot from the old man who was at least fifty now. Harvey had taken him on as scout for the expedition against the Kiowa and Commanche with the Ninth Kansas this past Spring. Sgt. Wiggs and the Lieutenant had come along on today’s chase since it was Army horses that the three Pawnee had stolen.

Still smarting at Lieutenant Burnett’s earlier remark that a kid like him was too young to be a Army scout, Billy had managed to keep his temper under control and not tell him off. Hell, it was the Lieutenant who was green as a willow twig. Just arrived at Ft. Larned from somewhere East, whereas, he, Billy Cody, had been working on the plains since he was eleven years old. So what if he was only sixteen now. He was as good a Army scout as any and had seen real action, even shooting an Indian when he was not yet twelve years old. He could handle himself despite what the Lieutenant said.

“I recall an old abandoned homestead just south of here,” Sgt. Wiggs offered. “Had a barn that might be still standing.” Wiggs was a veteran Army man while the Lieutenant was as raw as could be, Billy thought.

The four riders turned their horses and rode in a southerly direction, tracks almost covered completely as they made them. A half-hour later, they approached the homestead. The main cabin’s roof had fallen in, but the neighboring barn was still erect.

“Let’s ride the horses in out of the weather,” Harvey yelled against the howling wind. Once inside, the four men dismounted, took their gear off the horses, and shut the wide, barn door as best they could.

Peering out through the cracks in the boards of the door, Harvey suddenly motioned Billy and the others to be quiet.

“You know those three Pawnee we were tracking,” he said almost in a whisper, “they had the same idear. They’ve circled back and are coming in over that rise yonder. Get the horses in them old stalls and ready your rifles.”

Billy peered through a crack. The snow was coming down fast and hard. He could barely make out the group of horses being herded by the Indians down the hill toward the barn. Old Jack still had good eyes, he thought.

“Looks like they aim to bring the horses in here like we did,” Wiggs said. “I only see one rifle among them. Two have bows.”

“Here’s what we do,” Harvey said. “Billy, you climb up in that hayloft so you can get a good bead on them when they get in here. Lieutenant, you and Sgt. Wiggs get over there on the other side of the door, and I’ll get on this side. We’ll let ’em get in and then surprise the hell out of them.”

“I’m in command of this expedition…” Lt. Burnett began.

“You got a better idear?” Harvey asked.

The Lieutenant was about to protest when Sgt. Wiggs interrupted, “Here they come. Let’s go Lieutenant, sir.”

Billy quickly climbed the rickety wooden ladder to the loft and aimed his Spenser at the door. The Lieutenant and Wiggs took positions in stalls nearest the door, guns propped up. Harvey was practically out of sight among some old wooden crates.

The entry door opened, pushed in by one of the Indians on foot, and the stolen horses entered the stable followed by all three thieves. When the Pawnee brave shut the door, Harvey stepped out, called to them in their language and pointed to Billy in the loft aiming his rifle down at them. Then he pointed at the two soldiers, each with rifles at the ready. Dressed in his winter buckskins and slouch hat, he was still an imposing figure.

He motioned for the two mounted Indians to throw down their weapons and get down off the horses. One did, but the other, closest to Harvey, leaped off his horse directly toward him, a knife held aloft. Billy pressed the sensitive trigger of his rifle, and the brave fell. The horses moved around nervously at the sound of the shot, and the other two Pawnee braves pressed back against the door to escape the milling horses, aware of the rifles trained on them. The fallen Pawnee moaned and clutched his bloody hand, the one that had held the knife.

Harvey spat a stream of tobacco at the Indian on the floor and looked up at Billy. “That was some shot, Billy,” he said.

“You should have killed him,” the Lieutenant said. “One less to worry about.”

“They’re not wearing paint,” Harvey said. “Just some young bucks out to do what they like to do. Steal horses. That one on the ground is probably fourteen or fifteen. Just showing off for his friends. He’s shore lucky young Billy shot first. I was aiming at his belly.”

“Lucky shot,” the Lieutenant said.

“Lieutenant, if Billy had wanted him dead, there would be a hole tween his eyes. No luck involved,” Harvey said.

Billy grinned. The Lieutenant walked away. If the war lasted long enough maybe he could get in and be a Union Army sharpshooter, he thought. The war had come to Kansas, but mostly between Jayhawkers and Missouri bushwhackers who took turns crossing the state line, and Kansas had only become a state last year in ‘61. In the meantime, Billy thought, he’d just stay a scout for the Army unless something better came up.

Harvey turned to the other two Pawnee and said a few words. They immediately tended to their fallen comrade, one of them wrapping a yellow bandanna around his wounded hand.

“Probably stole that there bandanna, too,” Harvey said and barked some other words. The two Indians drew out their knives and placed them, their bows, arrows, and a rifle on the crate Harvey pointed to.

“Looks like they had that one rifle between them,” Wiggs said. “You see any rope around here?”

With the Indians seated and bound up around posts and all the horses secured, the four men built a fire in the middle of the dirt floor of the barn, huddled around it and ate a ration of dried buffalo meat. Billy gave some to the young braves. The four decided on how they would share the watch and then, since daylight was slowly disappearing, settled down for the night.

“If we’re lucky, lads, the blizzard will ease up, and we’ll only have to ride through a foot of snow in the morning,” Harvey said and spat into the fire. “That is, if the roof of this old barn don’t fall in on top of us.”

Good thing we got here first, Billy thought pulling his blanket around him. The battle had been short and sweet, and he had relished every exciting moment, but that there Lieutenant had looked a little queasy. With a snort of satisfaction, he closed his eyes. Too young was he? Maybe in years, but not in experience.

The End