Free Bohanin's Last Days by Randy D. Smith

and wrongs. What do they call that, Missy? Do they call that being an old fool?”
    â€œYes, Captain, they call that being an old fool.”
    â€œWell, meet L.J. Bohanin, your… how did you say it? Your knight in shining armor.”
    â€œHow do you do, Captain Bohanin. Meet Millie Toland, you’re rather foolish damsel in distress.”
    They talked of many things throughout the remainder of the day. She told the captain of her affair. How attracted to Bochart she had been, how she had felt sorry for him, her curiosity about sex and an illicit love affair. She told him of her plans. He shared more of his life experiences and adventures. Every major battle that he had fought, his different postings, many of his old friends. She told him about her parents and her youth.
    They stopped by a small pond for a couple of hours to lunch and rest the mare. They made camp on the open plains and he made her flap jacks. She cooked up some bacon and fried potatoes. After the meal, they talked of the night and their progress of the day. They shared the sunset and the cool plains evening before a small campfire.
    From their bedrolls, they talked of solemn things and lessons that they had gathered from life. Finally, she drifted off to sleep. Bohanin remained awake in his bedroll, his Winchester by his side, his Colt within easy reach near his head. He listened for signs of movement in the growing darkness of the dimming firelight.
    From the distance, Starbuck watched the dimming of the little campfire as he waited for Nobel. He would give them one more day. They would be two days from Springfield and at least two days from any other town. Then he would creep into the camp and kill the soldier with his knife while he slept. He would rape the woman and cut her up some. He would scalp the old man and tie the woman’s body down as though she had been tortured. That was something no white man would do. That would get him off the hook. He would take the three thousand dollars and ride away. If Nobel tried to stop him, he would kill Nobel as well. This was his chance to be somebody.
    Starbuck pulled his blanket about his shoulders. He ran a cold camp that night. He would take no chance of a fire that might alarm the couple. There would be plenty of warm camps later. Starbuck grinned as he again thought of the money, and the killing, and the woman.
    Meanwhile, Nobel cursed as he examined his horse in the darkness. The gelding had put his foot wrong crossing an arroyo. The beast was lame and couldn’t be ridden for some time. Nobel would have to turn back. He wouldn’t be able to find Starbuck. He wouldn’t be able to inform the killer that their employer had experienced a change of heart, and had ordered him to stop Starbuck.

Chapter IX
    Millie awoke to the smell of fresh coffee boiling on the campfire and bacon frying in a skillet. The sun was breaking over the horizon as she rolled over in her blankets and watched Bohanin.
    â€œYou’re up early,” she said with a smile.
    â€œFour o’clock every morning for the last thirty years. Old habits are difficult to break,” Bohanin said. “The coffee will be ready in a few minutes.”
    Millie started to sit up but flinched to a sudden sharp pain in the center of her back.
    â€œSleeping on the ground isn’t the most comfortable,” she said with a grimace.
    â€œIt’ll make an old man out of you before your time. Take it from me,” Bohanin said.
    Millie sniffed.
    â€œWhat is that smell?” she asked.
    â€œCoffee and bacon, I suppose,” Bohanin said.
    â€œNo, that other smell. That medicinal odor.”
    â€œYou caught me young lady. That’s horse liniment.”
    â€œHorse liniment? Is there something wrong with the mare?”
    â€œNope, I didn’t use it on the horse. I used on my knees.”
    â€œYour knees! Whatever for?”
    Bohanin stretched by the campfire. His joints cracked and popped