Although James was the trail boss, he wanted, when possible, to do things by consensus. Thus it was that he gave everyone an equal opportunity to speak. To his relief, everyone, even the Scattergoods, agreed with him.
The Texans’ cow camp was less than three miles from Fort Larned, Kansas. Leaving Bob, Billy, Matthew, and Mark to watch over the herd, James, Duke, Luke, and John rode to the fort. There was a small settlement just outside the fort itself. The town appeared to consist almost entirely of saloons, brothels, and gaming houses, primarily as a means of relieving the soldiers of their monthly pay.
“Well now, lookie here,” Luke said, smiling broadly as he looked up at several of the prostitutes who were leaning over the railing of an upstairs balcony. “I do believe I’m going to enjoy this place.”
“Stay out of trouble,” James cautioned.
“I ain’t lookin’ for trouble,” Luke said. “I’m just lookin’ for a little fun.”
Luke and John stopped in front of one of the saloons. James rode on for a few more yards before he realized they were no longer riding with him. He stopped and looked back toward them as they were tying their horses to the hitch rail. It was obvious that they were eager to get inside.
“Maybe you’d better stay with them, Duke,” James said. “Keep them out of trouble, if you can.”
“You don’t need me with you?”
“No, I’m just going to see what kind of information I can get from the post commander about the trail ahead. As soon as I talk to him, I’ll join you.”
“All right, I’ll watch them for you.” He smiled. “Besides, a beer would taste awfully good right now,” Duke said.
James left the three men in front of one of the saloons, then he rode up to Fort Larned.1 When he reached the front gate, a guard stepped in front of him, bringing his rifle to port arms.
“State your name and your business, mister,” the guard said.
“My name is James Cason. I’m a cattleman, here to see the commanding officer.”
The guard called the sergeant of the guard, who came to give James the once-over. Finally the sergeant nodded. “All right, tie your horse over there,” he said, pointing to a hitching rail, “then come with me.”
The post was garrisoned by Company H of the Twelfth Kansas Volunteer Infantry. The commanding officer, who was a lawyer in civilian life, was Captain Lawrence Appleby.
“You say you are a cattleman?” Appleby asked, when James was brought to him.
“Yes. I’m driving a herd north, from Texas to Dakota.”
Appleby looked up sharply, when he heard the word Texas.
“From Texas, you say?”
“That’s right. My folks own a ranch in Bexar County, near San Antonio.”
Appleby stroked his chin as he studied James. “Technically—Mr. Cason, is it?—that makes you an enemy.”
“I don’t know how that could be. I haven’t taken up arms against the United States.”
“But you are a Texan, and Texas is one of the states in rebellion.”
“The government of the state of Texas may be in rebellion, but I am not,” James said. “If I were, I would have joined the army of the Confederacy.”
“Then, perhaps you would like to join the Union army?”
“No, I wouldn’t. The reason I’m here now is because I want no part of this war.”
“A lot of people want no part of this war,” Appleby said. “But there is such a thing as duty to one’s country, and the honor of service.”
“I don’t believe it is my duty to kill my own kin,” James said. “And I’m sure there’s no honor in that.”
“Honest men can disagree on some things, Mr. Cason. But I see little room for disagreement over service to one’s country. You see, I joined the Kansas Volunteers because I
Appleby sighed.
“And where am I during this glorious crusade? I am cooling my heels at a post so far removed from the war that I may as well be in England. And the men they have given me? They are the dregs of society, misfits every one of them. Would you believe that the desertion rate here is as high as it is in a unit that is involved in battle?”
“Why is that?”
“In a word, Mr. Cason, gold,” Captain Appleby said. “In case you haven’t heard, gold has been discovered in Dakota, and a number of my soldiers have left in search of their fortune. In fact, I believe some of them volunteered for duty here just so they would be closer to the gold find in Dakota. But, from all accounts, the scalps of many of these deserters now decorate Indian lodges between here and Dakota.”
“That brings me to the point of my visit with you, Captain,” James said. “I plan to take a new trail, called the Bozeman Trail, into Dakota. What do you know of that trail, and of the Indians there?”
“As it so happens, Mr. Cason, Fort Larned is the location of the agency for the Cheyenne and Arapaho Indians. Therefore we get many reports from this so-called Bozeman Trail. And I can tell you this. The establishment of that trail has violated every accord we ever had with the Indians. It goes right through their territory and they are not happy about it. Many a traveler has been attacked while taking that trail to the gold fields of Dakota,” Captain Appleby said. “I strongly advise you not to go that way. In fact, my advice to you would be not to go any farther at all.”
“Are you suggesting that I turn around and take my herd back to Texas?” James asked.
“I’m suggesting that you turn around, yes. But you needn’t take your herd back to Texas. You could sell your cows to the army. I’m sure my quartermaster will pay you a fair amount. Not in cash, of course, but with a voucher that will be redeemable from the government in Washington.”
“What does your quartermaster consider a fair amount?”
“Twenty dollars a head.”
“That’s less than half of what I can get for them in Dakota. Thank you, but no, I think we will go on.”
“You can only get that much money for your cows in Dakota if you make it to Dakota,” Captain Appleby said, pointedly.
“We will make it,” James said. “All we need is a little help.”
“Help? Mr. Cason, you aren’t asking for a military escort, are you?”
“Actually, all I was going to ask for was a copy of the latest maps of the area,” James said.
“But I would be a fool to turn a military escort down, if such is available.”
“Under ordinary circumstances, a military escort might be available to you. But these aren’t ordinary circumstances. There is a war on, and you, and I take it the others with you on this drive, are Texans. How would it look in the press if some of my men were killed while providing an escort for Southerners?”
“It probably wouldn’t look very good,” James said in agreement.
“I could wire back to Fort Leavenworth and request permission to provide an escort. I don’t think they will give me approval, and there is even a possibility that they will order me to detain you and confiscate your herd. Would you like me to send that wire?”
“No,” James said.
“I didn’t think you would. So, what are you going to do, Mr. Cason? Are you going to try and go on alone? Or, shall I send for my quartermaster to buy your herd?”
“I’m going on,” James said, resolutely.
“I wish you luck,” Appleby said, by way of dismissal.
Duke and John were standing at the bar, having a drink. Luke was with them, but he was paying more attention to one of the prostitutes than he was to his beer. Four soldiers were sitting at a nearby table.
“Hey, where you fellas from?” one of the soldiers asked.
“We’re from—” John started, but Duke interrupted him.
