“No, sir, we sure don’t. But don’t worry, Cap’n, I’ll keep up with the bill of lading,” Depro said.
After leaving Captain Gilmore’s office, Sergeant Depro walked across the parade ground to an abandoned stable at the far end of the post property. The stable had been built ten years earlier as a place to hold captured Indian horses until they could be shipped off to factories in the East to be made into glue. That policy was dropped three years ago and the stable had been abandoned. Now, it was literally falling down.
Nobody ever came around it any more, not only because it was so far away from the main area of the fort, but also because of the stench. Unlike the stables of cavalry horses, which were kept clean by constant mucking of the stalls, these stalls had never been mucked, even when the stable had been in use.
After looking around to make certain that he wasn’t being observed, Depro stepped into the building, taking shallow breaths in order not to be overcome by the odor. Going to the stall that was most distant from the opening, he brushed away some of the hay, then pulled back a tarpaulin. There were eight boxes beneath the tarpaulin. Lettering on two of the boxes identified the contents as:
“Yes, sir, Cap’n Gilmore,” Depro said with a little chuckle under his breath. “I’ll keep up with the bill of lading for you.”
Leaving the stable, Depro saw two soldiers of the Sixth behind the building. At first he was frightened that they might have looked inside and seen the weapons. Then he saw that they had a bottle of whiskey, and were hiding behind the building because they were drinking on duty.
“All right you two!” he shouted angrily. “I’ve caught you! Drinking on duty ought to get you both a week in the stockade!”
He marched the two sullen soldiers to the provost marshal, where he said that he had seen the men sneak away and followed, only to find them drinking. Ordinarily, he would have done nothing about it, but this would give him a reason for being around the abandoned stable, just in case someone happened to see him over there.
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SHERIDAN AND YELLOWSTONE
STAGE AND FAST FREIGHT COMPANY
Falcon, Cody, and Ingraham stood outside the Sheridan and Yellowstone Stage and Fast Freight Company as the coach was brought around. Six wellmatched fresh horses stood in harness, as if anxious to get underway. The driver of the coach set the brake and remained on the seat, reins in hand as the shotgun guard used the step and front wheel to climb down.
“Folks, if you’ll bring your luggage around to the boot I’ll put it away for you, all nice and tidy.”
In addition to Falcon, Cody, and Ingraham, there was an attractive young woman with two small children who would be taking the trip as well. Smiling at her, Falcon took her luggage and handed it to the shotgun guard who put it in the back of the boot.
“There you go, ma’am,” the shotgun guard said. “Your bag is all safe and steady.”
“Thank you,” the woman said.
Buffalo Bill Cody held the door open to the coach, then helped the lady aboard. Once she was aboard, he picked up the children one at a time and handed them up to her.
It took only a few moments more before all were aboard.
“You folks all ready down there?” the driver called.
“We’re ready, driver. Take it away,” Cody called up to him.
The driver swung his whip, making a loud crack over the head of the team, and they lurched forward. The coach left the town of Sheridan at a rapid trot, and held the trot until they were almost a mile out of town, at which time he slowed the team down to a brisk walk of about eight miles per hour.
The passengers introduced themselves. The woman was Mrs. Juanita Kirby; her two children were Gary, who was six, and Abby, who was four.
“Wait until you see where we are going to build my town,” Cody said. “It is the most beautiful area you have ever seen. It is very near Yellowstone Park.”
“I’ve been to Yellowstone,” Falcon said. “That is certainly a beautiful area.”
“Beautiful yes, but strange too,” Cody said. “It is filled with boiling lakes and steam gushing from the ground, sometimes erupting into huge geysers that stream hundreds of feet into the air. And there is land that you cannot walk on without fear of falling through it into the very bowels of the earth. No, the land where my town will be built is nothing like that.”
“How close will it be to the place where we are going?” Ingraham asked. “What is the town called? DeMaris Springs?”
“Yes, DeMaris Springs. Cody will be very close to where DeMaris Springs is now, and there is no doubt in my mind but that Cody will so overtake DeMaris Springs in development and desirability, that DeMaris Springs will cease to exist.”
“Oh, I’m afraid Mr. Bellefontaine may have something to say about that,” Mrs. Kirby said.
“I’m sure he will,” Cody said.
