Wellington's Quest - Robert F. Clifton (beach books .TXT) 📗

all for sale. He entered a confectionery store and picked out twenty five pieces of chocolate candy and watched the store owner, a woman place the bonbons in a box, each piece neatly separated from the others seated in a paper shell. The box would only hold twenty four candies so he ate the odd piece. Walking outside he noticed the heat of the day for the first time as he walked towards the telegraph office. On the way he bought a newspaper from a boy, read the headline, folded it, saving it to read later when he got home, hoping to catch up on the news of the war.

As expected there was a telegraph reply to him from Wilcox. It read. “Will pay 45 cents a bushel for wheat delivered here stop Only interested in flax seed not stalks stop Price will be offered after inspection stop Suggest caution en route stop Sioux restless stop Milford Wilcox.

He arrived back at the farm at night fall. His mother kept a plate of stew warm for him in the oven and he sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper by oil lamp as he ate. He turned the pages of the Harper's Weekly that he had bought for six cents and read Lincoln's Confiscation Order. The Chickahominy Calvary Charge article caught his eye and he read even as he drank his coffee. He looked with interest at the artist rendering of thee different battles and skirmishes that had taken place. No where was there was there any mention of Indian unrest. Raids or wars.

When he was finished eating he placed his dish, cup and fork in the dry sink, lowered the oil lamp wick until the flame went out, then went to bed.

The next day was Sunday and after church he and Virginia went out into the country side. He pulled the mule to a halt next to a small pond. After being helped down from the wagon Virginia reached into the back of the wagon and retrieved a picnic basket. While she placed a white linen table cloth on the grass beneath a cottonwood tree, Jim moved the mule into the shade. He reached under the wagon seat and picked up the box of chocolates he had bought for her in Mankato.

As they ate their sandwiches that Virginia had made they talked about the war, crops, chickens, then finally their plans for the future. “I think I have a solution to our problem,” said Jim.

“And that is?”, asked Virginia.

“Do you know where the sour apple tree stands?, he asked.

“Yes”.

“Well, right near that spot is where I'll build out home. That way it's ours and you'll be the lady of the house. All you have to do is tell me what you want. How many rooms? How large do you want each room to be? Naturally, it will have a front porch. What color do you want it to be? I was thinking of white. What do you think?”, he asked.

“Oh dear me, so many questions Jim. You must give a girl time to think about such things”.

“Take your time. I was thinking that just as soon as the house is finished then we can marry and move right in”.

“How long will it take?”, she asked.

“I figure three months, four at the most. There's a fella in Mankato that's a house builder. I don't expect him to build during the winter.”

“A house builder? Won't that be expensive?”

“Probably, but right now I'm making good money. And while we're on the subject of money I have to go to St. Paul in the morning. I've got a load of wheat and flax for Wilcox,” said Jim.

“When will you be back?”, she asked.

“The day after tomorrow. Here, I got these for you”, he said handing her the box of candy.

“Oh, what a beautiful ribbon they wrapped the box with and its my favorite shade of blue, cerulean. I'll wear it in my hair. Thank you. Well, since you'll be in St. Paul I might just go see my aunt and cousin in Ulm.

After she lifted the candy box lid she made a troubled face and said, “Oh dear”.

“What's wrong?”, asked Jim.

“I'm afraid the chocolates have melted”, Virginia answered.

They both laughed when the soft chocolate coated their fingers and lips as they ate the candies.

Early the next morning with a loaded wagon Jim began the trip to St. Paul. He traveled under red, white, blue and gray colored herring bone clouds as the rising sun created a painted sky. As he traveled the dirt road he passed other farms, some run down others prosperous.

He marveled at the red brick farm house of Clyde Dillard that sat upon one hundred acres planted with corn and winter wheat. A few head of cattle grazed in a clover covered field. Somewhere a rooster crowed.

“Someday and somehow ill be a rich farmer just like Clyde. Hell. I'm only twenty two years old. I've got my whole life ahead of myself and I'm making good money', he thought to himself.

By the time the sun set Jim had covered about forty miles, stopping periodically to let the mule rest. He began looking for a place to bed down for the night. The summer rain had created pools and puddles on the side of the road and the forest covered ground on both sides of the way. Finding a dry place to camp for the night was becoming difficult. As he rounded a bend in the road he noticed that there was a slight rise in the terrain and he headed for it. He smiled when he saw a cut in the woods. It appeared to be an old, wide path probably made by hunters. Fishermen or loggers.

He urged the mule forward and up over the rise. After climbing down from the wagon he lit the wick of a lantern. Then, with the glow of the kerosene lamp lighting the way he walked deeper into the woods following the outline of the cut now covered with forest undergrowth. The golden light given off by the lantern began to draw mosquito’s and soon he began swatting them as they landed on his hands and face. Walking in the illuminated darkness he came to the edge of a small pond. Holding the lantern high he looked around and saw the tree stumps and discarded branches, the signs of an old logging operation. At the edge of the pond he lowered the lantern and saw the sign and footprints of a timber wolf. They were old prints but it told him that wolves were in the area and he was unarmed. Walking back to where the wagon was, the mule stood silently, trustingly, waiting for Jim to either unhitch him, or begin the journey again.

“No more Jack. We've covered enough miles for one day. I'll have you unhitched in a shake, get you some water and you can have the feed bag”, said Jim to the animal. He took the wooden bucket from out of the back of the wagon, then using the lantern to light the way returned to the pond. From the quiet pool of water he filled the bucket and returned to the mule and allowed the animal to drink. Unhitching the Jack he led it to a place where new grass grew among the underbrush, but instead of letting the mule graze he placed the feed bag filled with oats on the animals head.

Jim's supper that night was slices of bread and bacon followed by two cups of black coffee. Then, he made up his bed roll got in it and went to sleep, knowing that as tired as he was the coffee wouldn't keep him awake.

At four o'clock P.M. Jim stopped the wagon in front of the office of Milford Wilcox. After climbing down from the wagon he tied the reins of the mule to a hitching post. He then brush as much as the trail dust as he could from his clothes then walked to the door of the work place belonging to the investor, Wilcox.

The door was opened by a small man wearing a black suit, white shirt and a starched collar. Smiling, the man said, “You must be Mister Wellington. Please come in. Mister Wilcox is at the mill for the present. However, he has instructed me to see that you are comfortable until such time he arrives. He sends his apologies for not being here upon your arrival.”

“No problem. And, you are?”, asked Jim'

“Jenkins, Orlando Jenkins. I am the purchasing agent for Mister Wilcox, answered the man.

Jim shook hands with the man. “Seems to me that since you do the buying you can check my wagon load out there, tell me what it's worth and we can start dickering price”.

“Yes, why don't we. Milford had told me that you were bringing flax seed. May I ask is it brown or yellow seed?”, asked Jenkins.

“It's brown and there are sixty bushels of wheat”, Jim answered.

Both men walked outside. They stood beside the wagon as Jenkins inspected the jute bags filled with grain. Jim turned to see men rushing through the street, some shouting, others talking excitedly. “I wonder what's going on?”, asked Jim.

Before Jenkins could answer he turned his head and saw Milford Wilcox approaching with speed in his one horse buggy. “I don't know, but perhaps Mister Wilcox has some information”, said the agent.

Wilcox stopped the one horse vehicle next to Jim's wagon. “Thank god that you're safe. I was afraid that they might have caught you on the open road”, said Wilcox.

“Who? What are you talking about?”, asked Jim.

“The Sioux. Haven't you heard? The Sioux situation has exploded. The word on the telegraph is that possibly five hundred whites have been killed. Other reports say eight hundred people are dead, men, women, even children. Farms have been raided, houses burned, livestock slaughtered', Wilcox explained.

Jim stood in shocked silence trying to comprehend what he had just heard. “It can't be. Why? Why?”, he asked.

“Greed my good man, greed. The government gave the money for the annuity to the traders. Then, the traders cheated the Sioux. It was bound to happen,”said Wilcox.

“But why kill that many people? Why would they do that?”, asked Jim.

“The white man has taken land that belonged to the Indians. Treaties were made. Treaties were signed and treaties were broken. Each time a treaty was broken more white settlers came into the Minnesota River Valley and settled. Now, I would imagine that Matosapa thinks that he can drive all of the settlers out of his land”, said Wilcox.

“Can we get this wagon unloaded? I've got to get back there”, said Jim aroused by the bad news.

“Right now there's nothing you can do. Think about it. You have to travel eighty miles. That mean two days, providing you don't kill your mule. In your mental state you'd push him through the night and kill that jack on the way”, said Wilcox.

“I've got family back there, a mother, sister and her husband. There's the girl I'm going to marry. I've got to go”, said Jim.

“Listen to me my friend. If they're alive, then they're safe. If they are dead and I pray to God that they're not then there's nothing you can do for them. Use your head Jim. Start back tomorrow. Rest yourself and for goodness sake rest your mule. I see no arms on your person on in the wagon. If and when you go back to the situation down there you must be armed. From here in St. Paul to the Minnesota River there could be bands of Sioux along the roads. Take a look, people are running around, running scared, arming themselves. The Minnesota Regiments are not here Jim. They're fighting somewhere else and Manosapa knows it. Go tomorrow and for God's sake arm yourself”, Wilcox advised.

Jim hesitated for a moment before responding. Finally, realizing that Wilcox was right he asked, Where's the nearest livery? I want to