The axe hit the post, causing the ravens to take flight. I’ve finally got the technique right Lee watched the Ravens as they took to the blue Montana sky. He was proud of his skill with the axe and with the knife. Enough play you stupid boy. Time to get to work. He filled a bucket with some chicken feed as Trajan bounded out of the front door. “You OK boy.” He scratched the Mountain Cur under the chin. He knew it was time to clean the front porch, but could the front of the house really be beautiful again now that the flowers had withered. Could Murrow farm really be the same without the rest of the family. These things he would consider while making sure the chickens were happy. As Trajan went to scout the perimeter of the farm, he took up the bucket, and started distributing the feed around the chicken pen. It was then that he smelt rotting meat, and heard heavy uneven footsteps. The huge figure of his brother Duncan was milling about outside the house, munching on a bar of candy with his long hair swinging too and fro. “Hey mush brain!”
“Huh.” “I told you to help Nancy with the grub.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
The huge lump of a man trudged inside.
Lee put down the bucket and waved his arms at some prairie dogs that had wandered onto the property. They barked and slavered, but with Trajan’s help they were soon driven away. And then the headache began. He hated it when the dogs came. Of all the noises you could hear in Montana; the screaming of Indians, the long rifles of the mountain men, it was the wild dogs that made his head aches worse. He always had to drop whatever he was doing. The world became fluid, and the mountains looked as if they were made of black fire. “Sir!” He looked round. Five people were standing not twenty paces from him. It looked like four men and one woman. The black fire was lessening, but Lee still had to fight to keep himself conscious. Details were emerging. The fear of Indians was upon the newcomers, along with the blood of battle. The four men wore soldier’s blue and looked like they had been fighting for days. The girl was better kept, but no less terrified. He brown hair was all in a mess and she wore a purple dress with a blanket over her shoulders. Not a squaw. Her skin is marble white. By what unfortunate road did she wander into the land of the Sioux. One of the men was moving closer. His blue hat looked like it was about to fall apart, but Lee thought he recognised the badge. Yes there it was; The cross sabres of a cavalry regiment. “We’re sorry to disturb you.” The mans hairy, powder stained face came into focus. Lewis took the axe out of the post, making sure to hold it by the blade “Great heavens friend. What hell have you been through.”
“Kind sir, I’m Lieutenant Howard Buckland. This is my fiancé Elizabeth Stowe. These are troopers Tyree, Boone and Reno. We need a place to stay the night. We were attacked by Indians and our horses bolted. We would be willing to pay.” “Keep your money in your pocket. Holy heck, Murrow farm does not close her arms to the desperate.” He scooped up some soil. “In this land we welcome guests. Come to my arms my blue friend.” He bade them sit down in the yard while Duncan fetched water from the pump. “I must tidy the house before you can enter. In this little dwelling the clutter is like a mountain range. Three of you may have our beds. Duncan will entertain you.” “What’s all this Lee?” Nancy was calling down from the top floor.
“The Indian wars never cease,” said Lee, spreading his arms as if he were a circus master. “Looks like we got ourselves some guests.” “More guests?” Nancy drawled. “It ain’t gonna be no problem,” said Lee. “We can manage five.” Duncan and Nancy were natural partners when it came to meals. If Nancy wanted to rest or sit in the garden, she could just leave him to it. “The best in Montana,” she said, as she spooned out the stew. “Thankyou, thankyou” said Howard. The five guests started eating desperately. Duncan poured out some water for them, and milk for him and his siblings. “So what’s the deal?” Nancy asked, her bracelets and necklaces jingling as she sat. “We were with a column of soldiers and families,” said Howard, “moving South from Fort Pickett……I….”. His eyes were wide and fearful. Lee had always told Nancy not to question guests when the mountain road had clearly got to them. But he had to admit, he wanted to let the words flow. Elizabeth saw that it was time for her to take over. “It was four days ago the Sioux set upon us,” she said. “We fought back; by the lord we fought back. But we got separated from the main column. A hundred men, women and children, disappearing into the wilderness. We don’t know if anyone else made it.” “Bet you men shot lots of them Indians,” said Duncan. “About twelve,” said Boone wearily. “The arrows were flying before we could form a circle of wagons. We lost the initiative to the red man, and it all became a bloody mess.” “We lost sight of the others on one of the smaller roads,” said Tyree. “Then thanks to the prayers of some Shaman, the damn wheel came off the wagon. They followed us for another two days. We lost Jimmy and Frank.” He began to weep. “And then the horses fled. We wandered through the forest for about…….Oh I can’t recall……but who wants to remember the feeding frenzy of the Sioux.” He swigged some water. “I’d like to ride one of them army horses one day,” said Duncan as Howard comforted Tyree, “Speeding through a field with no one to stop you. I would say, ‘girl, take me to Mexico’. Lets see what Thomas Cornell has to say about it.” He leaned across to the bookshelf. “Or maybe I could go to Canada.” He nearly over balanced and hit his arm on the mantlepiece, causing aunt Catherine’s portrait to fall. “Duncan, stop being silly,” Nancy ordered. She smiled at the guests. “He just loves his books about far away lands you see. Got this huge one about the Roman Empire. That volume must be made of stone.” Lee got up and retrieved the portrait. “Forget about the book Duncan,” he said as he repositioned aunt Catherine, “Go and get some more water for our guests.” Looking unhappy, Duncan left the room. “I consider myself blessed,” Elizabeth continued, “That men like Howard still exist in America.” She put her hand on her beau’s arm. “We first met at West Point.”
It wasn’t long before Duncan tramped back into the room. “More water little lady.” He was placing the cup on the table. “With a body like that I can see why the savages would come after you.” The rain was pouring down heavily, and Trajan could be heard licking up any food that fell from the table. Reno looked up, his beard glistening with stew. Howard locked his eyes onto Duncan, his hand drifting to his gun belt. “Duncan!” Nancy exclaimed. Duncan took his eyes off Elizabeth. “You can’t say things like that to our guests.” “Did you ever meet General Custer?” Lee asked politely. It took a moment for Howard to register the question. “Yes. I met him at a gathering in New York.” The others resumed eating. “I had the honour of being photographed with him.” “Beautiful long hair,” said Duncan as he sat down. “Yes, Duncan beautiful hair,” said Nancy. “How did Custer keep his hair like that. I’ve been trying to get mine right for years.” “We’re you at Little Big Horn,” Duncan asked. “No,” said Howard. “Ah yes Little Bighorn,” said Lee through a mouthful of stew. “That’s all this one wants to talk about.” He waved his fork at Duncan. “Never notices when I change details just for a laugh.” “Shut your mouth.” “Oh stop it both of you,” said Nancy. “Its incredible the effect that Custer has had on this little abode” “Yes, a great hero lost,” said Howard, “But not without a fight.” He continued to eat his stew. “Could I have more water.”
The next morning, without waiting for the siblings to wake, the five companions took up their knapsacks, and stepped out into the chill. As the morning mist began to disperse, they made their way down the long road towards Charlotteswood. After a mile they encountered a rancher who gave them a wagon ride. The five of them swayed with exhaustion, and thanked God for their deliverance as the vehicle trundled into the town. As Elizabeth woke, she could hear piano music, and the laughter of saloon patrons. As Howard helped her off the cart, she saw a group of men in uniform smoking cigars. “Howard!” said a senior officer with a white beard. “Tyree, Boone, Reno. Beyond all hope, you are alive. And Miss Elizabeth, what a joy it is to see you.” It was Colonel Henry Simmons, the officer in charge of the column from Fort Pickett. “You…..get some rooms prepared.” A young cavalryman dropped his cigar and disappeared into the saloon. One of the officers took Elizabeth by the arm and another relieved them of their knapsacks. Howard was so happy he wanted to weep. “Let me help you my boy.” The colonel and another officer were flanking him. “Are you hurt?”
“No sir, just hungry and tired.” “We were sure those savages had got you,” said a captain with red whiskers. “But we need not have been afraid,” said Simmons cheerfully. “A hero of Gettysburg beaten by Sitting Bull and his painted devils. No sir, not likely.” Elizabeth was weeping. “Miss,” said a man she recognized as one of the doctors. “What’s the matter.” “We stayed at a house a few miles away,” she told him. “There was this horrible man who kept looking at me.”
“Don’t think about that no more Miss,” said the red whiskered captain, “Your safe now.” All the mess cheered as they entered the saloon. “Whisky and roast beef on the double quick,” yelled Simmons. As soon as the five survivors were welcomed, dined, bathed and sleeping soundly, Simmons sought out Thomas Cutler of the New York Times. “You want something to say Mr Cutler. Do them fancy folk in New York need a morale boost after the Little Bighorn; something cheerful to talk about over their sumptuous dinners. Write this down then. On 14th August 1876, the brave men and women of the Fort Pickett Column, made it safely to Charlotteswood Montana. The Sioux are fleeing in terror.” The reporter wrote it all down with relish. “Elizabeth Stowe, daughter of General James Stowe, of Shiloh fame, was saved from the savages by Lieutenant Howard Buckland. That’s your story.”
“God Damn it Nancy, we over slept. Them folks’ll be on the road by now!” Lee was trampling around the yard, axe in hand, ready to strike at anything that came near. “Oh quit your whining you little piggy,” said Nancy. “You’re making my headache worse. Forget Thor with his big hammer. Lee Murrow with his yelling will make your brain bleed without any difficulty!” “They must have had valuables,” Lee screamed. “We should have jumped them at the table.”
Nancy didn’t like his hot headedness but she shared his frustration. It was embarrassing, to have missed some extra beans because of oversleeping. “Too many of them,” she told him. “We had to wait till they were asleep. Still no point bickering over it now. We got lots to do today.” Loud snoring was still coming from Duncan’s room. She went in and shook him. “Wake up. Go make sure them dogs ain’t dug up the garden.” Duncan stirred. “What….dogs you say?” “That’s right. We got a lot to catch up on. We’ve been sleeping all morning.”
Behind the house was the gathering of withered plants that constituted the Murrow families’ garden. At the far end, a wild dog was inspecting one of the bushes. Duncan ran at it with all the ferocity he could muster, and the animal fled into the woods. He was about to go back inside when he saw there were two more approaching through the trees. He ran at them and they too trotted away. He had always been very good at getting rid of wild dogs. Then he saw that the first one had unearthed a skull. He picked it up and smashed it into as many fragments as he could. It was then that he decided he didn’t want to go back inside just yet. He wandered out into the woods and sat down on a fallen tree. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought this was the exact same place where they had killed the trappers. It was ten years ago. Bang, bang, bang, bang. Splinters and fear, and Aunt Catherine shouting orders. “Lee, get the rifle. They’re coming from the woods.” Lee had shot the scrawny one in the chest but the one with the beard kept firing. Trajan had ripped some flesh off his forearm. Then Catherine had shot him in the leg, and he had hobbled back into the trees, firing as he went. Duncan and Nancy had chased him down. Nancy shot him in the back and Duncan stabbed him in the neck. While Nancy and Lee finished off the attackers, Duncan had run back to Catherine. She was slumped against the wall of the house with blood on her belly. “Duncan…..you need to listen.”
Confused and weeping he had leaned in close. “You need to look after Lee and Nancy. They have done bad things. And they’re gonna do bad things again. They’re gonna to need you. Look in my satchel. There’s a small green bottle.”
Duncan remembered that little bag she always carried with her when she left the farm. He had never thought she would let anyone else look inside it. He extracted the little container. “Whenever Lee and Nancy look like their going to do a bad thing, you give ‘em some of that.” She held up her hand to his face, smearing him with blood and wet earth. “This land will not be a den of murderers,” she said tearfully. “We will welcome those who cross our threshold.” She closed his hand around the bottle. “Whenever a traveller comes to our house, you have to keep your brother and sister under control. Put that concoction in their milk. Gods willing it will knock them out long enough. There’s a man just off the North Road who brews it. He’ll trade it to you for candy, necklaces, any little bits you can find.” She grabbed him by his chubby wrist. “Save as many as you can.” Duncan decided to rest in the woods before taking on Murrow farm for another day.