dejected aspect.
I was back aboard when a new passenger carrying a worn valise paused just below my open window to ask the conductor if the train was going straight through to Cheyenne. In looks and posture he was ordinary, of middle age and height, with sunburned skin and a brush moustache the color of sand. His store suit and slouch hat were unremarkable and far from new. I could not say what it was about him that interested me. Only when he left the conductor and mounted the next car in line did I place his voice, and even then I was not certain. The West was large, after all. It would contain any number of men whose speech resembled the pleasant tones of Charlie Beacher, one of Nazarene Pike's partners and another of the nightriders who had brought death to my mother's boardinghouse.
Chapter 9
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PHILO HECATE
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"J udge, I must urge you to reconsider this excursion." Major Alonzo Rudeen was in his middle thirties and inclined toward stoutness, with a mealy complexion and red muttonchop whiskers that underscored the begin-flings of jowls. He wore the full cavalry uniform and gauntlets and a fawn-colored hat with the brim pinned up on one side. His saber slapped his heels as he strode across the Cheyenne platform to shake Judge Blod's hand. If the Judge found Rudeen's person less heroic than he had imagined, he did not betray disappointment. "Has the situation deteriorated that far?" he asked.
"It has. Moreover, it is still deteriorating. The newspapers have whipped Washington into a fine lather. I expect orders to report with my command to Standing Rock any day. I cannot warrant that you would not be leading your band of civilians into the middle of a war."
"What news of Sitting Bull?"
The major regarded Mr. Knox with a watery stare that he evidently considered martial. "Boiling roots and making dreams in his cabin on Grand River, just as he did at Little Big Horn. Who are you, sir?"
Judge Blod apologized for his poor manners and introduced the schoolmaster and, as an afterthought, myself. I had noticed a distinct drift in his affections away from me since the Joe Snake affair. While he was not precisely hostile, I sensed a distance between us, as between a boy and a man who had no use for him. This sentiment appeared to be shared by Rudeen, who ignored me.
"Young men on the Standing Rock reservation have been observed purchasing arms and ammunition from contraband traders," he said. "Sitting Bull and Wovoka, the Paiute charlatan, have convinced them that if they dance until they drop from exhaustion, the Indian slain will rise, the white man will withdraw from their ancestral lands, and the buffalo will return in numbers. The Sioux believe exclusively that the mystic symbols painted on their shirts will protect them from bullets, which is the most disturbing thing about this entire business, as it means that they are spoiling for a fight. It is a preposterous stew of Christian thought and pagan superstition that can have but one outcome. You would be placing your party in extreme jeopardy if you set out for the Black Hills in this climate."
"Are you ordering us not to proceed?" There was defiance in the Judge's tone.
"I have not that authority. However, I can withdraw my offer of an escort."
"The Rudeen I wrote about was a man of his word."
"I have acknowledged my debt to you, with reservations concerning your more creative flights," said the other. "I am extending this counsel in partial repayment. If you insist upon continuing, I cannot in good conscience refuse protection. I must impose a condition."
"Indeed."
"You know that I may not accompany you into Dakota without orders. This would expose you to the most perilous part of your journey without military protection. I would rest easier knowing you had a guide who is familiar with the country and the current situation. The man I have in mind is a short walk from this place."
"We will welcome the exercise." The Judge caught the attention of Ben
Madeleine Urban ; Abigail Roux