Wolf Creek Read Free

when he returned, it meant
someone had come a' calling. It was a simple way to protect the
sanctity of all the blue pictures he had taken. Even so, he glanced
toward the floorboards in the corner. Beneath them in secure
containers were the original photographic plates. The place could
burn down and those plates would be secure.
    The major looked around the studio and
sniffed, as if the chemical odors offended him. From the way he
held himself, most everything offended Joab Putnam. He had a face
that was hatchet-thin and a long nose that jutted out like a knife
blade. His blond hair was curly and seemed to float as a stray gust
of wind blew through the door. Such flowing locks looked better on
a woman, but Wil wasn't likely to tell the man that. He wore a
bushy mustache that quivered as his upper lips registered new
displeasures as he walked around.
    The man was tall, thin as a rail and his
quick, nervous movements warned of a spring pressed so tight it
might erupt at any moment. What direction such an explosion might
go depended on the man's choler.
    "You have the look of an academy
graduate."
    "You have a sharp eye, sir."
    "I'm a photographer. That's what people pay
me for." Wil neglected to mention he recognized the ring on the
man's bony finger. "You said you are the acting commander at the
fort. What's happened to Lieutenant Colonel Vine?"
    Putnam made a vague gesture, then slapped
his gloves across his palm. He stood a little straighter, as if
watching his post ride past in review before speaking again.
    "He has returned to Washington to visit
family."
    "Always a good family man, but . . ."
    "But? Are you impugning his integrity,
sir?"
    "Not at all, Major. It's just that the post
has been needing a real officer to command it. A West Point man
like yourself. Discipline has been lacking." Wil watched closely
for the proper signs that he hit the man's reason for being. It
came to him in a rush how to deal with the major. "And, from what I
can tell, as a civilian only, mind you, Vine lacked gumption. He
should have used his troopers to better end."
    "How is that, sir?"
    Wil saw he had the major's attention now—and
his agreement.
    "What good is having a cavalry unit and
letting it rust away with garrison duty? He should have been in the
field, bringing glory to the troops and himself. Distinguish
yourself in battle, I say."
    "Like General Custer."
    "The Boy General. Yes, Major, that Medal of
Honor he won was deserved." Wil ignored the court martial. "To
sally forth, to go into battle with pennons flying, the bugler
giving the order to charge."
    "I see that I have found the right man for
this mission."
    "I'm not a soldier, Major Putnam. I am only
a humble photographer, following in the footsteps of the great
Mathew Brady and others."
    "Exactly!" Fire lit the man's pale blue
eyes. His thin lips curled into a cruel smile, and Wil thought he
grew a couple inches in stature as ambition burned him alive. "I
need photographic evidence of my prowess—of my men's prowess—in battle against the savages."
    "Haven't heard of any trouble. Old Mountain
has settled down peaceably enough, off the traditional Kiowa
hunting land. How they got him to agree to that is anybody's
guess."
    "They stir," Putnam said as if calling to
the heavens to inform God and all the angels. "They prepare for
war."
    "How's that?"
    "The Kiowa and the Cheyenne conspire to
unite against all the settlers. They are plotting to eradicate
every white man in Wolf Creek. Then they will sweep across the
plains for larger towns."
    "That's a prospect to strike fear into all
our hearts." Wil wondered what the hell the officer was going on
about. The Kiowa were settled down now, and even if Cheyenne came
this far south and east, an alliance likely divvied up buffalo
hunting and wasn't to take scalps.
    "Pack your equipment. You will ride with C
Company as we meet the redskins in battle."
    "C Company? Captain Dent's company?" This
gave Wil pause. Tom Dent was always polite,