Read Online Lay the Mountains Low by Terry C. Johnston - Free Book Online

General Howard!”
    He couldn’t remember when he had been given such a splendid ovation. Surely not since those days of the Freedmen’s Bureau, before the scandals, before he was forever tainted with the vicious slander that had almost ruined his career, almost ruined the work of a lifetime. How that raucous applause and hearty huzzahs thundered in his ears and refreshed his flagging spirit here as he set about snuffing out the first flames of a territory-wide war.
    But as he self-consciously cleared his throat, Otis promised himself he would make it a short speech. Just the way he was going to make this a short war. “Ladies and gentlemen. Friends, and fellow countrymen. We have now taken the field in good earnest. More troops are on the way to join us.”
    That declaration elicited another noisy round of applause before he was allowed to continue.
    â€œI propose to take prompt measures for the pursuit and punishment of the hostile Indians, and wish you—each and every one of you—to help me in that endeavor. Help me in the way of information and supplies, as much does lie in your power.”
    A quiet smattering of applause began what quickly exploded into a noisy response from the approving throng, more than two hundred heads bobbing in agreement with his proposal. Otis stood there, letting the praise wash over him a moment, sensing the strength it gave him, how it seeped into every muscle to give might to his own efforts in the coming struggle.
    When the crowd settled, he said in a quieter tone, “I sympathize deeply with you in the loss of life, and in the outrages to which your families have been subjected. Rest assured that no stone will be left unturned to give you redress, to give you protection in the future.”
    An instant applause erupted again, and Otis stepped back, gesturing to L. P. Brown. The hotel owner came forward and said a few final words before the two of them turned to join Sarah Brown at the open doorway. As the general’s party stopped just inside the Browns’ hotel, ayoung man in his late twenties hurried forward, rolling a sleeve down over his bare forearm.
    â€œGeneral Howard,” Brown began, “I’d like you to meet Dr. John Morris. Mount Idaho’s physician.”
    They clumsily shook left hands and Otis said, “You’re caring for the wounded, Doctor?”
    The Missouri-born Morris nodded. “I was visiting Portland when news of the outbreak reached us. Boarded the next steamer for Lewiston and made my way over from there.”
    â€œHow long have you been practicing in this area?”
    â€œCame to Mount Idaho in seventy-five,” the doctor explained. “Not long after I earned my license to practice from St. Louis Medical College.”
    Brown stepped up. “Dr. Morris returned home three days ago, the twenty-second. Poor fella hasn’t had much sleep since.”
    â€œI catch’ a nap when and where I can, General,” Morris explained.
    Howard looked into the young man’s warm eyes. “May I see, may I talk to the people, the civilians you are caring for?”
    â€œOf course. By all means,” Morris replied and started away.
    In several of the small rooms on that floor, and on the second story as well, Morris led Howard and Brown to the bedside of every victim of the Nez Perce terror. Many sobbed quietly as the old one-armed soldier moved among their beds, cots, or simple pallets spread upon the floor.
    Howard turned to the hotel owner. “Mr. Brown, what about the man you started for Fort Lapwai with news of the murders?”
    Brown shook his head. “Lew Day? He isn’t here anymore.”
    Howard turned to the physician, asking, “No longer under your care, Dr. Morris?”
    â€œBy the time I arrived here from Portland, his leg wound was in a dreadful condition,” Morris declared. “I explainedto Lew that it was his leg or his life. He agreed to the