Cry of the Hawk

Lemuel Wiser was relieved. Whenever he argued with Usher, Wiser was never sure how the argument would turn out. Except that he had long ago learned to make an idea sound like it was Usher’s from the start. Convince the charismatic Saint that the idea was his to begin with, and then the man would defend it with a fiery passion.

“We have been moving across this country faster than we had planned, Colonel Usher,” he said. “Hastings’s group is likely already away from the Missouri and pushing west along the Platte toward our rendezvous.”

Usher turned, grinning crookedly. “I certainly hope Hastings has the information we need for Brigham.” For a moment he gazed into his glass of brandy, swirling it around. “All of Deseret will need that intelligence, Major Wiser.”

“Hastings and his bunch are proven, Colonel. They won’t let us down. You handpicked them yourself—the steadiest we have among the whole lot. They learned a lot about Kansas that last scout you had them on.”

“Yes, I did pick them myself—most carefully.” Usher took a drink. “I wanted the best to ride back north again with Hastings, because they would be the outriders plunging into enemy territory farther than any of the rest of us. I had to know I could depend upon them to get the job done—clean and tidy. No messy mistakes. No deserters.”

“No, not like Fordham.”

Boothog watched the mention of the name twist Usher’s features, making his eyes mere slits with a flinty center.

“No, Major. Not like Riley Fordham.”

“But I do have four out looking for him already. I spread them out as you suggested. They’ll cover everything north and west of here, sweeping the land clear before meeting up with us at Fort Laramie. I’m sure one of them will have Fordham’s head waiting for you.”

Usher smiled. “That was a novel approach to this ancient problem, don’t you think, Major?”

“The burlap bags, Colonel?”

“Yes,” Usher replied, sinking slowly into his canvas chair. “Giving each of those four I sent scrambling after our deserter a burlap bag.”

“One of them will have the prize in his bag when we get to Laramie, Colonel.”

Usher stared into his brandy. “The head of Riley Fordham.”

“Yes, Colonel. And that man will win the prize.”

Usher gazed up at Wiser now, the grin disappearing. He sounded almost sympathetic. “You so wanted the girl, didn’t you, Major?”

Wiser had never been able to hide it. “She is every bit as beautiful as her mother, Colonel. Yes. The girl will bear a man many children, and make a Saint proud to have her for one of his wives when we return to the land of Zion.”

He turned away, gazing wistfully at the roof of the tent. “The thought of that has such a peaceful picture to it. I tell myself very often now what it will mean—returning there to old friends and family. After all these years of waging war against the blaspheming Gentiles.”

“Brigham Young will welcome you home with a parade, Colonel.”

Usher threw back the last of the brandy and licked a droplet from his lower lip. “A job well done. Yes. The Prophet will reward us all for a job well done.”

“Our job is not really over, Colonel.”

He waved a hand in answering. “Of course, it isn’t, Major. But I wish to be among my own people for a change. These … these Gentiles, nonbelievers—they taint our men, sully our faith at every turn. We need to return to our own kind—if only to renew our spirits as one would renew himself at a well he comes upon after crossing a vast desert in the land of Judah, the sands of Canaan, the wilderness of Sinai.”

“A hero you will be, Colonel.”

He turned to look at Wiser. “Where is it you’ve decided to lead your company of regulars?”

Boothog was taken aback by the sudden question that shifted the direction of the conversation. But then, Jubilee Usher was like that, adept at keeping men off balance, especially when he suspected those about him were polishing the apple. Usher was not the sort to allow his battalion of Danites to butter him up with false praise. Above all others, Usher knew who he was and needed no man to convince him he was just and righteous. He needed no one to tell him he would soon stand next in line to Brigham Young himself. Jubilee Usher was about God’s work in a pagan land.

The rest were politicians, even Wiser had to admit that. Those members of the Council and the Quorum who surrounded Young were stodgy politicians, every last one of them trying to outmaneuver the rest. But Jubilee Usher—now here was a man who could command, every bit as powerful as Brigham Young himself. Perhaps that was why Young had dispatched Usher years ago, and gave him far-ranging orders and a free hand for his band of avenging angels.

Perhaps, Wiser thought more and more on it, perhaps Brigham Young in some way feared the power and charisma and charm of Jubilee Usher.