killing them, whichever took your fancy on the day,” Kohn says and notes that the three men are no longer smiling.
“You gon’ get yourself hurt, Jewman.” The smith takes a hot iron poker from the fire and looks over at the gloved apprentice.
“You know, Don, you know what I got a mind to do?”
“What’s that, boss?”
The poker’s tip glows bright orange and the smith holds it up, hefts the poker as if gauging the balance of a cutlass. “I got a mind to stick this iron in the Jew’s eyes. Each eye, one and the other. Then sit the Christ-killing son of a bitch down in front of them books he say I got. Give him a look at what he can’t see in front of his own face.”
“What books would those be?” the sergeant blocking the door says.
“Oh I don’t know. Some books this Jew fucker says I got.”
Kohn looks again at the iron mallet on the bench, at the anvil and then at each of the three men. The sergeant in the doorway meets his gaze but the soldier in the gloves will not. The smith smiles at Kohn.
Kohn says, “I have offered good money and you have declined my offer. Your loss, Smithy. You won’t be offered it again.”
The smith shoves the tip of the poker into the heart of the fire and holds it there for a moment. “I’m a let you leave with your eyesight, Jewman. But I hear you say another goddamn word round camp ’bout any kinda books at all, I’m gonna cook your goddamn heart on my fires. You understand me?”
“You assume I have one, Corporal.”
“You a funny boy. A laughing Dutchie Jew dog. You won’t be laughing we come for you in the night, boy.”
There are voices raised outside the shop and the three men turn to them. Kohn takes the iron mallet from the workbench and slips it into his belt under his tunic.
A young officer enters, shoving the sergeant blocking the door aside. “Corporal, my horse has thrown a shoe and is waiting to be goddamn shod and I am left standing outside with my prick in my hand.”
“Yessir, I’ll do it myself, pardon the wait, Lieutenant,” the smith says. “I been busy as two flies fucking, sir.”
“And less of the goddamn cussing, corporal,” the lieutenant says. “This fort is not the cock-sucking whorehouse where your sister works.”
“Yessir,” the smith says, taking four shoes from the bin and a box of shoeing nails from a workbench. He smiles at Kohn as he follows the lieutenant out into the cold.
25
THE FT. LARAMIE PEACE TALKS & 1ST MEETING WITH MR. LO (AS WE DO CALL THE INDIANS)
I WILL TAKE UP THE PEN AGAIN SIR BECAUSE I CANNOT sleep for the cold & the terrible thoughts in my head. I do not know what time or day it is now though I suppose it does not matter. It is still today or it is tomorrow but nothing has changed for me since I last wrote here some hours ago.
I was writing before about the march of Col. Carrington’s Overland Parade arriving at Ft. Laramie & we soon learnt the reason for our hauling up there. It was the big Pow Wow between the chiefs of the Sioux & Cheyanne & our very own Big Hats of the Army & Government that was called the Laramie Peace Talks.
Well we now do know how much good them talks were at all for you can see how peaceable they made the lot of us both red & white neither side of us giving a penny f___ for the terms of the treaty signed but preferring the bow & musket all round. But for us back then it did be a rest from the road & we took it as soldiers in any Army would & tore up on a fine old spree.
Sure none of us common Bills knew a thing of the negotiations then only that we were free for a day or 3 with light duties & the Paymaster God Bless Him was due to catch us up there with 2 months back pay & Thank God for that for soldiers do raise a fierce thirst in marching. (You know all this well yourself for I can see it in you no offence Sir. I can smell the whiskey on you when you watch me through the Judas window in my cell door.)