Chapter Twenty-four

West of the Mississippi River May 1804

Colin lay motionless in the tree watching six Indian Braves as they investigated his beaver traps. He was lucky to get safely up the tree before the Braves appeared on the horizon. He said a silent prayer. But he still thanked his scarab. He assumed the Braves had found his camp hidden behind a copse of trees one-hundred yards from the shore of the Missouri River. With any luck, his trapping partner, Jim, his partner, had escaped the Braves. He hoped the fresh bloody scalp hanging from the waist of one savage belonged to someone else. His skin crawled. Wondering if they had not seen his horse tethered fifty yards from the campsite, hidden behind an outcrop of bushes. Walking the one-hundred miles back to St. Louis did not appeal to him.

He recognized none markings on the russet bodies of the savages to determine their tribe. The Braves were naked from the waist up. Their bodies painted with lines, circles, and dots and dashes. A few had a single feather in their black hair. All had war clubs, and one carried a sharp lance with feathers running up and down the shaft. They did not belong to the Oto or the Osage. Both tribes lived in the vicinity, and both were friendly. He had spent several days with the Oto soon after he had arrived in St. Louis. He was slow but learned their customs, something the men in the tribe teased about. Jim knew their customs well.

The leader sat stoically on his white and brown pony. His coal black hair braided on each side of his head and the war paint smeared on his face was more intricate than the others. The four jagged lines left a scar that stretched from ear to chin. It appeared as if he had picked a fight with a Grizzly and lost. Scanning the area for tracks, he motioned for the others to dismount and search the riverbanks. The leader let out a guttural yell, and the war party rode west. The leader looked back after a few hundred feet.  Fortunately, the scarab told Colin to wait before he shimmied from the tree.

Colin neared his camp, surprised that it appeared untouched. A lone figure sat near the barely smoldering fire pit. Without looking up, Jim said, “Where’s the water? I can’t make no fire or vittles without water.”

“I had a small problem with the water and the traps,” Colin said unsettled, but happy to see Jim had his scalp.

“What sorts of problems,” Jim asked scratching his week-old stubble with his knife.

Colin related the story of the war party to Jim.

“Well, ya can sees I still gots my hair. I don’t like it. Them injuns are up to no good. Ya say ya didn’t recognize thems tribal markin’s?” Jim waited for Colin to shake his head. “Could be Foxes from way up North or the Sioux from the Dakotas. None of em has any business being so close to Saint Louis.”

"I think we should cut our losses and head back to St. Louis with what we have,” Colin said looking at the small pile of pelts on the ground.

Jim stirred the beans. “That’s easy for you to say, ya’ll get a stipend from the presydent. I’m gonna continue, maybe track them injuns, make sure they behave. Ya’ll keep your eyeballs peeled. Thems injuns could be just a scouting party.”

“But…” Colin protested.

Jim belched. “There ain’t no buts. I’ll be back afore winter. Now skedaddle.”

“I swore then and there that I would never set foot in the wilderness again. I became more determined when I found the owner of the scalp. Cover Sally’s ears for the next part.” Colin’s voice trailed off with his thoughts.

Sally frowned, “I’m okay, mommy. I want to hear it.” Sally’s mother covered her daughter’s ears, anyway.

“I hadn’t ridden over five miles before I found the body lying face up. You could tell by the amount of blood that the Indians had scalped him while he was still alive. He had so many arrow holes in him he looked like a pincushion. You could also tell by the way the settlers skin had been peeled back that the poor man was still alive. It was a horrific way to die.” Colin, with his elbow on the arm of his chair, rubbed his eyes. “I still see the image in my mind to this day.

“I would have kept my promise never to go west again. I was even thinking of heading back to Boston if this damned fool scarab hadn’t spoiled my plans. The United States purchased the Louisiana territory in February 1803, but the news did not reach the public newspapers until July, and it reached St. Louis a short time after that. They still wildly debated, dissected, and contested the president’s purchase for some time after that. There were citizens in the area that was not too keen on the idea of changing political views. Napoleon, their Emperor before the sale, was thousands of miles away in France and left them alone. Their new leader was now just a few hundred miles away in Washington D. C. and able to keep a closer eye on them. I couldn't care less about the purchase. It didn’t affect me, not until the middle of May 1804, when he stumbled into my life.”

The big burly man behind the bar nodded at Colin as he entered the tavern. “A gentleman has been inquiring about you, Colin.”

The message startled Colin. Only two other people knew he was in St. Louis, his partner, Jim, whom he hadn’t seen in over a year, and the President of the United States, Thomas Jefferson. “Who would inquire about me?” he said questioning.

“I don’t know. He was dressed in one of your country’s soldier uniforms,” the tavern keeper said in his strong French accent. “He asked for you by name.”

Colin’s heart sank. Maybe someone tracked him to St. Louis, possibly a relative of Major Dunehirst. No, a relative of Dunehirst would not be wearing a uniform, unless he stole it. Colin’s first instinct was to run, but he had nowhere to go.

“He acted as if he was a friend of yours,” the burly man said with a toothless grin showing through his long straggly beard.

“I know no one. At least I don’t recollect knowing any military men,” Colin said, hiding the fact he knew that many military men were in his past.

Colin didn’t want to meet any old friends from long ago. The only ones he cared about were most likely long gone. His mind wandered back to Jacqueline, so many years ago. She said she would wait for him; he hoped she had not carried out her promise. He wished she had found the right person and raised a family. “She would be about forty-three by now,” Colin said out-loud.

“Pardon?” the tavern keeper said absentmindedly wiping a drinking glasses on his grungy apron.

“Sorry, it’s nothing.  Please tell the gentleman I have left town if you see him again.”

The barkeep spat inside a glass and wiped it off with a dirty rag. “Very well my friend, but you can tell him yourself.”

“What?” Colin said in disbelief. Twirling around, panic filled his thoughts.

The tavern keeper pointed out to the street. “The gentleman just crossed the street and is heading this way. And he has brought a friend.”

Colin first thought was to run; he had no time to hide. The best he could do was to find an empty table in the corner and pull his beaver-skin cap down. Two men entered the tavern and questioned the burly barkeep. The burly man kept shaking his head. The discussion stopped. There was something about the one man, Colin couldn’t place, and it was almost as if he recognized the officer. The other guy bore a strong resemblance to a person he knew in the war. It was impossible that officer would be in his late fifties by now and both officers appeared to be in their thirties. The tavern owner sold him out as he pointed to Colin’s table.

The officers thanked the man behind the counter and headed to Colin. He recognized the one officer. He had seen him at Washington’s Memorial four years ago and once again in 1801 when he accepted Thomas’ invitation to head west. He couldn’t remember his name. However, the officer had been Thomas’ secretary or something along those lines. He didn’t have time to remember the officer’s exact position with Thomas as the two men interrupted his thoughts.

“Do you mind if we join you, Captain Harcourt?”  The officer asked.

Colin stared up blank-faced; no one had called him by his rank in many years.

The officer continued, “We have met on two separate occasions, sir.”

Colin was still too dumbfounded to respond.

“Allow us the pleasure of introduction, William Clark.” He then pointed to the other gentleman. “And this uncouth man is Meriwether Lewis, former private secretary to President Jefferson no less.”

A flash of relief followed by trepidation came over Colin, “I am sorry, yes, please have a seat,” Colin said as he motioned to the barkeep to bring another around to his table. “Are you any relation to George Rogers Clark?”

“He is my brother, sir,” Clark said turned the chair around and sat in it backward.

“There is a great resemblance. Is your brother well?” Colin asked.

“How is it you know my brother? Fate has not been kind to him after the war.” Clark said as he yanked out a chair and slid into it uninvited.

“I am sorry to hear, we were acquaintances nothing more.” Colin drank from his glass of beer.

Clark was agitated. “Did you work with him on the canal project in Indiana? If so you were friends with that traitor, Aaron Burr.”

Colin blinked. “I meant no harm. Yes, I know Mr. Burr, but I know nothing about him being a traitor. Last time I saw him, he was the Vice President of the United States.”

Clark softened his glare, “You know nothing about the duel where Burr shot and killed Alexander Hamilton?”

“No, I had not heard. Alexander was a friend,” Colin said sadly. “But you have not traveled all this way to inform me of the death of a friend.”

“No, we haven’t,” Lewis spoke. “We are here for two reasons. First, have you explored the Missouri River to the west?”

“I have. I have traveled a hundred miles along its shore. It is a beautiful country, but overall, useless to all but the savages. What pray-tell would the other reason be?” Colin drank from his tankard, wiping the dribble with the back of his hand.

“Are you aware of our mission?” Lewis asked in a whisper.

Colin glanced at the barkeep, silently signaling for help. “There have been rumors but no particulars. I don’t adhere to idle gossip.”

“We have been instructed to find a waterway to the Pacific,” Clark said excitedly, causing a look from Lewis.

“And you want me to join the expedition?” Colin said, and he stood.

“Please sit down, Captain. We did not intend asking you to join us,” Lewis said matter-of-factly.

Colin felt insulted why weren’t they going to ask him to join him? What’s wrong with him? He would gladly join the historic expedition. “I might have been hasty declining the invitation,” he said with a slight smile.

Lewis had cocked his eye before he said, “There will be no invitation to join us. We have other plans for you.”

A surprised look etched upon Colin’s face, other plans he thought. “How may I be of service?”

“We intend to depart from our camp just north of here in two days,” Lewis said with authority.

“That would be May 21rst, right? And your plans for me…” Colin returned to his seat with a thud, waking a drunken patron sleeping in the corner. The patron scratched his crotch, turned over, and fell back into his stupor.

“We can’t afford to lose one member of our crew for this mission,” Lewis said, dropping a bundle of letters wrapped in a blue ribbon on the table. “We need these letters handed over to President Jefferson personally.”

Colin’s eyes narrowed. “You wish me to be your errand boy?”

Lewis glanced at Clark for help. “It was President Jefferson’s idea,” Clark said trying to ease the tension. “The letters are important. They chronicle our journey to date. They tell of our departure date from St. Louis and also relate that we did indeed arrive in St. Louis safely.”

Lewis returned from the bar with three tankards of beer. “We do not intend demeaning your involvement, but we need someone we can trust and more importantly, someone that knows Thomas.”

“Is there anything else that you wish me to tell Thomas?” Colin accepted a tankard and took a quick gulp.

“Your country thanks you. Please tell the president we will send another dispatch next spring?”

“My God, Colin, you think by now you would avoid letters of any kind,” Grant said with a laugh.

“Delivering letters is my lot in life,” Colin said with a smile. “On May 21rst, 1804, Lewis and Clark left St. Louis headed for the west, hoping to find a waterway to the Pacific—”

“Did they find one?” asked Sally

“No, they didn’t, but their discoveries were monumental to the growth of the West,” her mother said.

“That’s right, Sally. The expedition headed west to fame and fortune. I, myself left St. Louis headed toward the east on the same day. My journey until this day had been forgotten by history. The four of you are the first to hear about my last visit with my friend, Thomas.” A far away demeanor came over Colin; he was in his happy place, just for a second. “There is a bright side to my lost historical journey.”

“Your life has been full of dark and bright sides. Tell us what the bright side of being forgotten by history might be,” Grant said lighting another of his endless supplies of cigars.

“I thought that would be obvious. I mean doesn’t the period give it away?” Colin glanced at his timepiece, “Do you say it’s safe enough for us to go downstairs for dinner?”

“You are not getting off that easily,” Sally’s mother, teased.

Colin mocked a pout, “Very well if it had not been for Meriwether Lewis’ insistence that I deliver his correspondence to the president personally, I would have never gone back east.”

“I still don’t get it,” James said.

“It’s simple, James. I would have never met my beloved wife had I stayed in Missouri. The scarab was looking out for me. I’m starving, shall we continue over dinner?” Colin rubbed his stomach.