Fort Tipton

By John J. Law

Fort Tipton was a week of hard riding, west of the Capital. It was the last outpost before you left the territory and went into the unmapped Indian lands between here and California. The fort was built in response to the need to protect miners and settlers, after the big silver strike ten years ago.
Once word of the strike reached back east, settlers flocked to Fort Tipton. Soon a town sprung up a few miles from the fort, at a natural spring and was quickly a true wild west hot spot. The military took full advantage of the town of Fort Tipton. The saloons provided everything a frontier's man or lonely solider could want. Dance hall women, gambling and whiskey. The settlers who followed the miners, quickly found out the only water outside the natural springs in or at the fort was too deep for wells and the soil was less than fertile. They moved on as quickly as they had moved in, leaving the God forsaken waste land surrounding Fort Tipton to the gamblers, cattlemen and Indians.

• Language: English
• Publisher: J.C. Hulsey Books
• Release date: Dec 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223218470

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Slate, I bet your wondering why I had you drop everything and hightail it here to the Capital, Judge Josiah Wellingworth, the Chief Justice of the Territorial Court stated, as he finally graced Slate with his presence. The Judge was of average height and weight with dark brown hair cut at a reasonable length. He is going gray at the temples, which gave him a distinguished look. He wore reading glasses and had a no nonsense demeanor about him. Today, he was wearing a dark blue power suit, befitting one of the most powerful men in the territory. He also had the distinction of being one of the most hated, as well.

I see you haven’t bothered to purchase a new set of clothes, the Judge remarked regarding Slate’s clothes. Slate was dressed in buckskin pants and shirt. The same clothes he wore the last time he was here, in the Judge's office. His Black boots were covered with dust and in need of a shine. His hair was light brown and almost to his collar and he was ruggedly handsome. Slate had been waiting two hours for the Judge and was in no mood to try and guess anything. He’d had two sleepless nights racing across the territory to get here as fast as humanly possible, per the Judge’s telegram.

You might say that, Slate grudgingly mumbled in reply. Despite being in the Judge's debt, the Judge had been the man who saved him from a life in prison, Slate hated how he was at the beckon call of the man.

Sorry you had to push so hard to get here, but it’s a matter of grave importance, the Judge stated, as he sat in his chair and lit a cigar. There’s a little job I need you to handle, the Judge said, as he offered Slate a cigar, which he turned down.

Yes, sir, Slate replied, not really looking forward to the Judge’s little job.

There’s an outlaw being held at Fort Tipton. The outlaw's name is Charles Joseph. He’s an Arapaho Indian. Been off the reservation for most of his adult life. He’s accused of multiple murders and more than three dozen robberies. I want him in my court to prove to the Indians, our law applies to everyone, even them, the Judge stated.

Okay, Slate stated without any enthusiasm, as he sat silently calculating how long it would take him to get to Fort Tipton and back.

Fort Tipton was a week of hard riding, west of the Capital. It was the last outpost before you left the territory and went into the unmapped Indian lands between here and California. The fort was built in response to the need to protect miners and settlers, after the big silver strike ten years ago.

Once word of the strike reached back east, settlers flocked to Fort Tipton. Soon a town sprung up a few miles from the fort, at a natural spring and was quickly a true wild west hot spot. The military took full advantage of the town of Fort Tipton. The saloons provided everything a frontier's man or lonely solider could want. Dance hall women, gambling and whiskey. The settlers who followed the miners, quickly found out the only water outside the natural springs in or at the fort was too deep for wells and the soil was less than fertile. They moved on as quickly as they had moved in, leaving the God forsaken waste land surrounding Fort Tipton to the gamblers, cattlemen and Indians.

Now I know, you have been riding hard the last couple of days, Slate. But I need you to get an early start tomorrow. I’ve arranged for you to tag along with the military for the trip to Fort Tipton. It’s just a precaution, mind you. The Arapaho broke out of the reservation a couple of weeks ago. They’ve been raiding the miner’s camps and the few ranches that remain in the area since then. The military feels they need to reinforce the fort, ensuring they have enough troops to hunt down the renegades, plus protect the fort and the town at the same time, the Judge shared and then sat smoking, waiting for Slate to comment.

So where is this prisoner being held? The town or the fort? Slate asked, though he knew already.

There’s no law in the town, just the saloon keeper’s bouncers. So, you’ll find our man in the fort’s stockade. He’s been there for close to a month, the Judge shared.

Does the current Indian uprising have anything to do with our man, Charles Joseph? Slate asked, as he stared at the Judge, knowing the answer to this question too.

It does. It seems, he is the brother of the chief, Chief Wild Horse, and the chief isn’t taking the news of his brother’s capture very well, the Judge shared.

So why hasn’t the military hanged him already? Slated asked.

"They don’t want to be the ones that Chief Wild Horse blames for his brother’s death. They claim the unrest they are experiencing now is nothing compared to what it would be,