Wrath of the Savage by Charles G. West Page B

going on?” Captain Greer asked.
    â€œI don’t know, sir. He wasn’t nowhere around. Him and that scout, Coldiron, kinda got off by theirselves when it was time to go to sleep.” He glanced at McCoy for confirmation. “We all wondered why they didn’t bed down with the rest of us. Anyway, come daylight, they was both gone.”
    â€œThat’s a damn lie, and you know it!” Bret exclaimed.
    â€œThis is the last time I’m going to warn you,” Grice said, and pointed a stern finger at Bret.
    There was little doubt in Bret’s mind that the verdict was already decided and the inquiry was merely a formality to soothe Grice’s conscience as the hearing continued. He was questioned by all of the three judges, but the questions were specific, and he was not allowed to expound on his answers. In the end, it came down to taking the two witnesses’ word over that of the officer. It was a farce, and he found it hard to believe that it was allowed to happen. It would not have made any difference, he decided, had Coldiron been there as a witness for the defendant. The panel came to the inquiry with the verdict already established. And when it came time for the verdict, Grice asked the prisoner to stand up while he read it.
    â€œBret Cameron Hollister, it is the verdict of this hearing that you shall be reduced to the rank of private. If you do not wish to serve in that capacity, you may resign your commission and be discharged dishonorably from the United States Army. Do you have anything to say to this panel?”
    Surely I will wake up from this nightmare,
he thought, but he knew it was real, as real as the stoic look on Grice’s face—as real as the smirks on the faces of McCoy and Weaver. Fuming inside, he finally replied to the question. “Yes, I’ve got something to say. I made a big mistake by coming back here to report. In doing so, I’m afraid I might have jeopardized the lives of two innocent white women. I wish that I had continued the search for them. As for the choice you distinguished officers have offered, I’ll not serve at the rank of private. In fact, I prefer not to serve at all in an organization with officers of such limited intelligence as yourselves. I willingly surrender my sword, if you haven’t taken it already from my quarters.”
    Grice and Captain Greer recoiled haughtily from his comments, while Lieutenant Oakes shook his head sadly, thinking about the years the prisoner had spent preparing for a career in the military. Grice got up from the table and walked around to stand before Bret. With a knife he had brought with him in anticipation of the act, he reached up and meticulously cut the insignia of rank from Bret’s shoulders.
    â€œThis hearing is concluded,” he announced officially. Then to Bret, he remarked, “We’re letting you off easy. I could have sent you to prison for a few years. Your quarters have already been stripped of everything of army issue. You may keep the uniform you’re wearing and any personal items, but that is all. I suggest you remove anything you have left from the BOQ before mess call.”
    He felt completely drained, and the desire to cry out at the magnitude of the injustice he had been dealt was almost overwhelming, but he knew it would do him no good at all. He chose not to give them the satisfaction of witnessing his anguish, so he contained his anger and struggled to maintain his calm. Without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, at the very least a free man—at the most, a man with no possessions beyond the disgraced uniform he wore and the few personal items left in his quarters. He was not without means, however, for he had a tidy sum in savings in the First Bank of Bozeman—inheritance from his late father’s estate. He had thought to use it for something worthwhile at some point, possibly a land investment of some description, but