Read Online Powder River by S.K. Salzer - Free Book Online Page A

Fort Phil Kearny. Though he’d been anticipating the sight, and the eerie stillness of the frozen Piney Creek Valley, his nerve endings tingled as Alice daintily picked her way down the steep trail, followed by the mule. Every part of Dixon’s soul rebelled. He did not want to return to this haunted place. He sensed a malevolent presence waiting, yet he knew he had to press on. His children might be sheltering there.
    The ice groaned under Alice’s feet as they crossed the frozen Little Piney. They rode through the collapsed water gates and over the blackened ground that used to be the quartermaster’s yard. Dixon looked to the right, at the remains of the stables and the teamsters’ quarters. He saw the charred remnants of the slag pile, where young Private Rooney chopped off a thumb while splitting firewood, and the listing clothesline that held the bed sheets that comically entangled Colonel Carrington one windy day as he scolded a soldier for a minor uniform violation. Some cabins still stood along laundresses’ row, though they were roofless. They would provide little protection from the elements, but a child might seek shelter there. Dixon dismounted and checked each one, without result.
    He climbed the slope from the quartermaster’s yard and into the fort proper, leading Alice and the mule along the red gravel path that ran between officers’ row and the parade lawn. How many times had he and Rose trod these iron-red stones? He stopped before the hulk that once was her cabin, and then their cabin, the place where he first kissed her, where they first made love. His throat tightened, and he closed his eyes. They thought they had long lives ahead of them, a joyful future together, but this was a lie, just another of God’s cruel jokes.
    Alice nickered and nudged him with her nose. He turned to see a shadow moving toward him through the snow. He saw the dark shape only briefly before it vanished behind a blowing curtain of white. Dixon closed his eyes and looked again. Nothing . . . then, yes! It was closer now, bulky and slow moving. Alice saw the apparition also; she remained motionless, ears forward, tail blowing between her legs. Dixon was surprised by the horse’s calmness; generally, she was quick to sense and react to the presence of an intruder. Gradually, above the keening of the wind, Dixon heard a voice calling. The words were not intelligible until the man—for it was a man and not a ghost—drew nearer.
    â€œDoctor! I’ve got them, Cal and Lorna. They’re safe.”
    Dixon peered into the snow, shielding his eyes with his hand. “Who is it? I can’t see you.”
    â€œBilly Sun.” He came closer until Dixon could make out his features. Years had passed since he’d last seen the half-breed, and he was virtually swallowed by the soldier’s buffalo coat and red woolen scarf he wore, but there was no mistaking those pale green eyes. He turned and waved a wolf-hide mitten toward a crumbling structure Dixon recognized as the remains of the bakery, the post’s only stone structure. “They’re in there,” he said. “I got a fire going.”
    Dixon felt a rush of relief and gratitude. “Thank God,” he said. “Thank you, Billy. Thank you.”
    â€œThey were in a bad way when I found them,” Billy said. “Cold and hungry but they’re good now.”
    They started walking toward the bakery. “Where did you find them?” Dixon said.
    â€œNorth of here, about half a mile, on the old Fort Smith Road. Their pony died and they were trying to make a shelter out of blankets and rocks. They weren’t having luck, or with a fire, either, because of the wind. It was a good thing I came along when I did.”
    As they neared the stone walls, Dixon smelled a wood fire and saw its warm glow flickering through an open window. Before they arrived, he put out an arm to stop Billy. “Where