Blood Feather by Don Bendell Page A

“I ain’t no lily-liver. Ef he is a doing it, ah’ll do it, too. Ah’ll do it better.”
    Joshua ran to the corner and got the bucket of wash water for the floor and carried it over to the crowd.
    He said, “Back up, boys,” and all the soldiers moved back.
    Strongheart set a chair between two billiard tables, then looked at Chris and said, “Grab that cue stick there, mister, and stand on this chair.”
    Colt complied, and then Strongheart climbed up on one of the tables holding the wooden bucket of mop water.
    He yelled, “Now, I need all of you except these two to go outside a few minutes.”
    Nobody could figure out what he was doing, but like sheep they filed out, holding beers mugs and cigars.
    Strongheart raised the bucket overhead and pushed the rim against the ceiling.
    He said to Colt, “Now, sir, push the end of that billiard cue up against the center of the bucket and hold the bucket tight against the ceiling.”
    Colt complied and Joshua counted slowly to ten. He then reached up and took hold of the bucket, carefully lowering it so it would not spill.
    The bully thought to himself,
I can hold it a lot longer than that
.
    Strongheart said, “Okay, mister, it’s your turn. He passed. Let’s see if you can.”
    â€œHale yes, I kin,” the big bruiser said, climbing up on the chair.
    He sneered at Colt as the handsome scout handed the cue stick to him. Strongheart pushed the big bucket up against the ceiling and held it there until the big man pushed the stick up in the center and held the bucket hard against the ceiling himself. The hillbilly had not realized it would be that heavy to hold that way, but he knew he could certainly hold it a lot longer than the scout did.
    Strongheart said, “Okay, are you ready?”
    The heavy said, “Yeah, boy, ah’m ready.”
    Joshua hopped down off the table and grabbed Colt by the upper arm, leading him toward the door. The bully suddenly knew what was happening. He had to hold the bucket against the ceiling or be drenched with a bucket of dirty wash water.
    â€œHey, where the hell ya goin’? Come back here!” the monster yelled, while Colt and Strongheart went out the door laughing.
    Outside, the assembled men looked at them coming out the door, and Strongheart said, “Your partner sure beat the scout here good. He is still winning and wants you to wait until he is done.”
    Several shrugged their shoulders, and Chris and Joshua walked away chuckling to themselves.
    â€œBoy is he going to be angry now,” Colt laughed.
    Strongheart said, “But hopefully by the time we see him again, he will be sobered up.”
    Colt said, “I hope so. I really don’t want to fight soldiers I am working with. That was quick thinking on your part. I’ll have to use that trick again sometime.”
    The two men went to the quartermaster depot.
    Dutch wore his ever-present smile and said, “Mr. Strongheart it is, and the Comanches have not lifted yer scalp, I see.”
    â€œHowdy, Dutch,” Strongheart replied. “Some tried, but Chris Colt stopped them short. Do you happen to have a room where I can prepare a briefing? Have to brief the general in the morning and send a report to my boss.”
    â€œAye,” Dutch replied. “Go inta the office in the corner yonder. Ye’ll find pen and ink, pencils, and paper. Help yourself, youngster, and old Colt and me will tell each other lies.”
    It took Strongheart two hours before he emerged with his report made out and briefing prepared.
    â€œCome on. Let me buy you guys dinner,” he said.
    Chris said, “Sounds good. My belly is rubbing a blister on my backbone.”
    Dutch said, “Ah, you lads go eat. I have ta do inventory.”
    The pair left and headed toward a small saloon that served food. Five shadows appeared suddenly out of the darkness, and three were carrying what looked like axe