The column halted. The chief signaled for a parley. The gates groaned open, but only wide enough for a small group. A chaotic scene ensued as officials in heavywool coats spilled out, flanked by a squad of armed soldiers. "You cannot bring a war party to a federal outpost," a lieutenant shouted, his hand resting on his saber.
"We come for justice," the chief's interpreter called back. "We come with proof." "We will hear the chief," the lieutenant said, eyeing the line of warriors with a nervous sweat beating on his forehead despite the cold. "And the white man? The rest stay back."
Elias dismounted. Winona did the same. As they walked toward the gate, the lieutenant stepped in front of Winona. Not her, he said. She is my witness.
The chief said, "She is a squ." The lieutenant spat. "And this is military business." "She is my wife," Elias said, his voice low and dangerous. The lieutenant looked at Elias, a sneer curling his lip.
"According to who? A savage, right? That don't hold water here. Mister, in the eyes of the law, she is property of the state. And you?
He looked Elias up and down, recognizing the face from the wanted posters. You are a criminal. You are under arrest. Before Elias could react, soldiers surged forward. They didn't grab him.
They grabbed Winona. "No!" Elias shouted, lunging forward. A rifle butt slammed into his gut. He doubled over, gasping.
He saw Winona being dragged away. not toward the council room, but toward the stockade. She didn't scream. She looked back at him, her eyes wide and dark, before she was shoved through a heavy wooden door. "Take him to the colonel," the lieutenant ordered.
Elias was hauled to his feet, wheezing. He realized then that the law he had come to serve was not a shield. It was a bludgeon, and they were about to be beaten to death with it. He was marched across the parade ground, past the staring faces of soldiers who looked at him with a mix of curiosity and disgust. He was taken to the headquarters building, but instead of the main office, he was shoved into a small windowless interrogation room.
He waited for an hour. The room was cold, smelling of stale tobacco and damp wood. The door opened. It wasn't the colonel. It was Major Lynch.
Elias felt the blood freeze in his veins. Lynch looked older than Elias remembered, his face puffier, the veins in his nose broken from too much drink. But his eyes were the same. Cold, pale blue, devoid of empathy. Sergeant Thorne, Lynch said, closing the door softly.
You look like a dog that's been kicked too many times. I am not a sergeant, rasped. Not anymore. No, Lynch agreed, pulling out a chair and sitting opposite him. Now you are a deserter, a thief and a consort to hostiles.
That is a hanging offense. Elias, I have the ledger, Elias said, cutting to the chase. I have the crate from the whiskey runners. It has the Vain Trading Company brand. It has the government contract number.
Lynch didn't flinch. He smiled. A thin tight expression. Paper Burns. Elias.
Wood splinters. Do you really think a few scraps of trash will outweigh the word of a decorated officer and a government agent? It will if I take it to a judge, Elias said. It will if I take it to the newspapers in St. Louis.
Lynch leaned forward. You will never see St. Louis. You will never leave this fort. Unless, he let the word hang in the air.
Unless what? Unless you help us, Lynch said. We know the tribe uses the high passes to move between the summer and winter grounds. We know they have caches of weapons hidden in the caves. You give us the locations.
You sign a statement saying the raid on the ranch was ordered by Standing Elk. You want me to lie? Elias said, "I want you to be practical," Lynch corrected. "You do this and the desertion charge disappears. You get a pardon.
You walk out of here a free man." "And Winona," Elias asked. "She goes to the reservation," Lynch said, waving a hand dismissively. Where she belongs, she will be cared for. Cared for like the people at Sand Creek?
Elias asked, his voice shaking with suppressed rage. Cared for like the children starving in the valley. Lynch's face hardened. He stood up, knocking the chair back. You have a lot of morals for a man with a noose around his neck.
Think about it. Thorne, you have until the hearing tomorrow morning. He turned to the door. Oh, and Elias, if you refuse, I won't just hang you. I will make sure the girl is educated on the proper place of her kind before we send her away.
The door slammed shut. Leaving Elias in the dark, Elias was moved to a holding cell in the guard house. It was a cage of iron bars in the center of a larger room. He sat on the cot, his head in his hands. The threat against Winona made his stomach churn with acid.
He knew Lynch. He knew the man was capable of anything. Late that night, the outer door opened. A soldier brought in a tray of food, hardtack, and watery coffee. But the man didn't leave immediately.
He was older, stooped, wearing a uniform that was frayed at the cuffs. He looked around nervously, then slipped a piece of folded paper through the bars. "My name is Abernathy," the man whispered. I'm the clerk for the quartermaster. Elias took the paper, hiding it in his palm.
Why are you helping me? Because I keep the books. Abernathy hissed. I see the numbers. Vain is stealing 70% of the beef allotment.
The flour is mixed with sawdust. I have a wife, Mister Thorne. I have a baby girl. I cannot sleep at night knowing what I am signing. Elias unfolded the paper.