“I suppose you are right. Lord, that man is an ass!” he said with a tinge of disgust.
“How is it possible he is still in the Union Army?” Bright Feather asked.
“In a way, he is almost a mirror image of me and my father. He comes from a rich and powerful Southern family. So powerful and connected to Washington that the Union Army was instructed not to destroy his family plantation during Sherman’s March to the Sea,” he told her reflectively.
Bright Feather sat up in surprise. “From the great white father Lincoln?” she asked.
“No, word had it that the orders came from Vice-President, well, now President Johnson. He had close ties with Baxter Leigh Vellaneau and his plantation Ville Marie from before the war,” he answered.
“You seem to have known Vellaneau before,” she stated.
"By coincidence, years ago my dad, when he was a young naval officer, was sent to do some business with the Vellaneau family. In fact, it was on that trip where he first met that woman who basically raised me when I was a child. Miss Lizzie, Honor's mother. As for me, I knew Reginald when he was two years ahead of me at West Point. He enjoyed making younger cadets' lives hell. When he found out I had the most unique family that added fuel to his fire when it came to me. He is as resentful as hell now that we are both lieutenants. If he hadn’t run off to join the Confederate Army, he would be a major now. It was his father’s connections that helped him get reinstated.”
“He is simply a dreadful person, isn’t he?” she asked.
“Indeed, he is. He is not the problem now, though. When dawn comes and we can’t produce Stalking Wolf, instead of a peace conference, we are going to have a tribal war at the gates of Fort McCallister. There has to be a way to solve this,” he said with frustration.
Bright Feather turned to him fully. She did not want to have to give him the option for fixing things because of the danger, but she felt she had to.
“There is, there is one way but I uh … I tremble to even give voice to it,” she said with a shaky voice.
“Do you know a way out of this? If you do I want to hear it, Bright Feather,” he said amazed.
“The risk, if it fails, not one person will die but two, because I could not live with myself for having made this suggestion,” she said.
He leaned in and took her face gently in his hands. She closed her eyes briefly.
“Tell me, Bright Feather,” he said.
Bright Feather opened her eyes and told him her idea, looking into his wonderful, caring eyes.
***
A full moon glowed low in the sky over the mountains beyond the fort when they decided to take a walk and find the colonel to propose their idea. Dutch understood why Bright Feather had been so worried about her idea, but Dutch was ready for it. As they crossed the parade ground, they saw the gates being shut, and Dutch steered her with him to see what was going on.
“Hold up a minute, who just left the fort, Private?” Dutch asked the young soldier at the gate.
“Lieutenant Vellaneau, sir.”
“Where was he going?” Dutch asked.
“I don’t know, sir, but he said it was on the orders of Col. Caine,” he answered.
Dutch motioned to Bright Feather and they hurried to the colonel’s quarters. He knocked on the door quickly, and it opened just as fast.
“Forgive me for the intrusion, Colonel Caine, but I was just advised that Vellaneau has left the fort. May I inquire of his destination?” Dutch asked his commander.
Beckoning them into his quarters and quickly getting a few scattered books off a chair, Col. Caine turned to them and said, "I sent a man to find you a few minutes ago. He reported back that he was unable to locate you," The colonel said. His eyes shifted imperceptibly towards Bright Feather.
Bright Feather, on the other hand, had her eyes on the walls of the colonel's quarters admiring a series of old clocks adorning the walls. It seemed the colonel was something of a collector.
“Apologies, sir. I was getting Bright Feather acquainted with the fort and we have been trying to come up with a way to fix things. Please, sir, where did Vellaneau go to?” Dutch asked.
“He presented me with a plan for righting the conference. Admittedly it is last ditch, but we have to try something,” Caine said.
“What’s that, sir?” Dutch said.
“He said while you were speaking with the Chiricahua chief, he was waiting outside the tent. Two Indians were talking and one of them was laughing. He appeared to be boasting about something. He caught an English word, a name, Sampson. He approached the Indian who said it and the Indian revealed he spoke some English from his dealings with Sampson,” the colonel informed him.
“Who is this Sampson?” Bright Feather asked.
"I'm assuming he means that rogue trapper, Pasquale Sampson. The colonel's predecessor Colonel Hannibal Grey ran him out of the territory for causing trouble by stealing all the pelts from the tribe's traps," Dutch answered her.
"Correct. Per the Indians, Sampson came back and was trying to reclaim what he lost by once again stealing from those traps. The Indian was boasting he caught him red-handed. Sampson tried to draw on him but his arrow was true and killed him where he stood," the colonel told them.
“Well, no one is going to miss Sampson. He was warned, but what does this all have to do with Stalking Wolf?” Dutch asked.
“Vellaneau remembered that we had all those pelts we recovered from Sampson when he was chased out of the territory over in the north storage room. Vellaneau had the thought that we could trade them for Stalking Wolf,” the colonel told them.
“Yes, I remember saying we should return those. Grey refused to do so though. He would never give a reason for it,” Dutch said. Bright Feather’s jaw had dropped open while the men discussed the possibilities. She was surprised and worried.
“No, Colonel, no! We have to stop him,” she said.
“Why?”
“He will be lucky if he isn’t killed on the spot. It will be perceived as a great dishonor if you try to—what is the word you whites use—if you try to bribe them with pelts they rightfully own,” she explained urgently, hoping they understood.
“Thunderation!” the colonel said, surprised. He lit a cigar in frustration.
“Sir … you brought Bright Feather on board to help us. Why was this plan not run past her for input, or at the very least, she should have accompanied Vellaneau on this errand to interpret?” Dutch said, unwisely questioning his commanding officer’s decision.
“Now, you listen. You are my best officer, Wilde, but don’t you question my decisions. For the record, Vellaneau said the Indian that killed Sampson would be able to translate well enough. As for Bright Feather, well, it will be at my discretion on what plans or ideas I wish to share with her,” the colonel said with a nod and a puff on his cigar.
“Surely you are not putting any stock in her being a spy for Black Hawk?” Dutch asked.
“Like I told him, I have good feelings about her. Still, she must earn our trust. Now he had a plan that sounded good, so I let him do it on his own. I see now, though, that her knowledge would have been a boon to us,” he said thoughtfully.
“Okay, well, now we have to save Vellaneau and the peace conference at the same time. Bright Feather has an idea and I am ready to lay my life on the line to make it happen for us,” Dutch said bravely, earning yet more admiration from Bright Feather.
They went over the plan with the colonel afterward. He was appalled at the risk that Dutch was willing to take, but he gave his okay for the endeavor. He couldn't think of anything else.
A few minutes later, Dutch and Bright Feather got their horses and took off for the Chiricahua camp. They managed to make suitable time and rode into the camp before the moon was high in the heavens.
In the center of the camp, still a distance from the chief’s tent, a roughed-up looking Vellaneau was tied to a pole near to a fire. Many braves stood around, taunting him, dancing and groaning
out foreign words. They held spears and arrows, too, and seemed determined to end whatever vile dealing they had with the lieutenant.
The battered Vellaneau saw Dutch and Bright Feather ride into the camp with exhausted astonishment. An embarrassed sigh escaped his lips while his eyes pleaded for help.
CHAPTER 25
* * *
"Well, Reginald, it looks like you lost this war, too," Dutch said, smiling slightly.
“At least I wasn’t afraid to try,” he returned, speaking through split lips from a mouth dripping with bloody spittle.
Dutch and Bright Feather dismounted a few feet from him and the braves that surrounded him with formidable looks. They approached the tribe leader instead who sat on a carved stool. Beside him was Stalking Wolf who grunted his displeasure at their arrival.
“Stalking Wolf is great! Stalking Wolf is mighty! Only when he fights with many braves around him!” Dutch shouted as he approached both men, accusing the proud warrior through Bright Feather.
“You speak, and lies flow from your mouth like water from a stream!” Stalking Wolf snarled angrily, and Bright Feather began translating their heated back and forth exchanges.
“Do I? Then let Stalking Wolf fight me. No, he dares not face me alone!” Dutch said, in another try at the challenge. It was the only way this was going to work, he knew. Bright Feather was right about that.
“Stalking Wolf fears no one, white or red!” Stalking Wolf proclaimed.
“The Hawk fights. The crow squawks loudly,” Dutch returned.
That did it. Stalking Wolf pulled out a tomahawk and threw it into the ground between Dutch’s boots.
“Take it, white eyes, we fight!” Bright Feather translated, happy yet fearful at the same time. The plan was working, but it could mean Dutch’s life.
“And if I win?” Dutch asked.
The chief stepped forward at this point. "If you win, do as you wish with Stalking Wolf, and your fellow white eye goes free. If you lose, your scalp will dangle from Stalking Wolfe's tent pole next to his," The chief said, gesturing Stalking Wolf forward.
Dutch, swallowing his own spit with courage, stripped off his jacket and shirt until he was down to bare skin for better mobility and picked up the tomahawk as his opponent was handed one from another brave. He tested the weight and twirled it once to check his grip. He was thankful his love had sparred with him, using many different weapons. Slowly, he began to circle the fire.
“Hold on, Wilde! You’re a damn fool of a Yankee for putting yourself on the chopping block next to me!” Vellaneau shouted.
"He does it because he is a true and honorable man. He wished to not only save one who has shown him such disrespect but to ensure the peace amongst the four tribes. Seeing as how it was your attempted bribery that got you tied to that pole, there is not much you can do about it, Lieutenant," Bright Feather rebuked him severely.
Before Vellaneau could formulate any response, a yell cut through the air and the brave leaped the fire at Dutch. Reacting, he sidestepped and ducked a swing from Stalking Wolf’s tomahawk. The crowd was shouting and cheering their brave while Vellaneau and Bright Feather united for once, called out their encouragement to Dutch, too.
Dutch appreciated the words of encouragement but kept his eye on his opponent as he kept the fire between him and Stalking Wolf. Undaunted, the brave leaped the fire again, and Dutch blocked the downward swing of the tomahawk with his own weapon and kicked out, knocking his rival to the side. Dutch started to rush forward but jumped back as the brave got a low swing of his shield at Dutch's legs while getting to his feet. They circled, now to the right of the fire. Dutch faked a rush and then backed off when the brave didn't fall for it. It had been worth a try, Dutch thought. Then the warrior made his own rush.
Dutch raised his tomahawk to block and the blades of each man’s weapon hooked together leaving them to struggle back and forth next to the roaring fire. Dutch found himself being backed closer to the fire and took blows to the side from the man’s shield even as he felt the heat of the fire on his legs. With a surge of strength, he twisted sideways, unlocking their weapons and throwing the brave towards the fire, spinning himself away. Stalking Wolf, for a moment, looked like he would plunge into the flames, but with an impressive twist, he rolled to the side, hitting the ground next to the pit and quickly launched himself back on his feet with a grunt. He was no longer smiling and looked angry. Grudgingly, Dutch found himself impressed with the man's ability.
“You got ‘em now, Yankee!” Vellaneau shouted.
Encouraged, Dutch rushed him again, swinging his weapon that landed with a dull thud against the man’s shield, but Dutch had counted on that and kicked out again, connecting with his foe’s thigh. His combatant snarled something that could only be a curse in his own language before leaping back out of reach. Dutch nodded to himself in satisfaction, as he could see by his face Stalking Wolf was no longer expecting an easy victory. However, the realization crept into his soul that the brave was in for the long haul, and that worried Dutch because he knew he was good, but he also knew so was Stalking Wolf.
Steeling himself he rushed Stalking Wolf, but his blow was blocked by the brave's shield again. Dutch wondered why he had not been given one as well, it hardly seemed fair. With quick reflexes, he suddenly leaped back again to avoid a wild swing from his enemy's tomahawk. To the side, he heard Bright Feather cheer and that buoyed him as he sprang forward, bringing his weapon down. Stalking Wolf blocked it in such a way that the head of the tomahawk broke off leaving Dutch with the handle and nothing else. Everyone around them reverberated with laughter save Stalking Wolf who was focused now with hardly a smile for Dutch's predicament.
Determined still, Dutch swore and circled Stalking Wolf. The Indian rushed at him just at the moment Dutch threw the handle at him, wishing for all the world that it was Lijuan’s hammer instead. Stalking Wolf raised his shield to avoid getting hit in the head and the wooden handle bounced off, landing in the fire. Yet Dutch kept circling and ducking. He was weaponless and knew he was in the worst possible position, not sure how to get out of it or win the fight. Just survive, he told himself, as his old West Point instructor used to tell him.
“Watch out, Yankee!” Vellaneau shouted.
Dutch hit the ground and rolled, avoiding a vicious attack by the brave.
“Prepare for your death, pony soldier!” Stalking Wolf snarled at him, his English perfect.
“You speak English? You’ve been pretending all this time not to?” Dutch said, annoyed.
“You should not be surprised. My chief brave spoke to you in the white man’s words before. Never give an enemy a secret advantage, but soon death will take you and what you know about me will not matter!” The brave taunted him.
“Don’t plan on a premature burial, this fight isn’t over with yet,” Dutch returned bravely. Stalking Wolf laughed at him while circling and spinning his tomahawk.
“The sun is setting on your time in this world, pony soldier. As you lie bleeding, I will lead my warrior society against our foes and Stalking Wolf will crush them as I crush you now. There will be no peace, just the glory of battle, and when I win the day, the song they sing of my actions will be a beautiful, glorious one. You shall not hear it because on this day the only song you will hear will not be the beautiful one, only the death song,” he said with a laugh, raising the tomahawk to deliver the final blow.
In Dutch's mind, for reasons he could never fully explain afterward, he heard only the words, beautiful … one … beautiful and graceful one. He looked up and could almost hear his sister's voice from the distant past in his head.
“Try it, David. You can do it. Try!” He remembered her words as Stalking Wolf brought the weapon around for a killing blow.
Deciding to act fast, Dutch jumped back and then swung his leg up, connecting a roundhouse kick to the brave’s jaw with all his weight and momentum. Stalking Wolf collapsed immediately, unconscious from the blow. Dutch stared at the downed b
rave for a minute surprised and heartened that it had worked. The tribe was stunned into near silence save for a smattering of confused and angry murmuring.
Vellaneau was not. “What the hell was that? Holy shit!” He called out from where he was tied, smiling.
“Something my sister learned from the instruction she received from her Chinese heritage. A fighting skill from the Far East. I never thought I had mastered it, despite her best efforts. Some of it must have stuck when I needed it the most,” Dutch said with his own smile. He also turned to Bright Feather with a tired smile. She jumped up and hugged him, despite Vellaneau being tied to the post watching them.
“I would have killed myself if you had died!” she exclaimed into his ear. He hugged her back, refusing to let go for a while.
"I didn't, though. I heard Lijuan's voice telling me I could do it. Just like when she was training me when we were teenagers. She just saved my life, in a way, even though she isn't here," he said in amazement.
“Someone want to let me go from being hogtied?” Vellaneau said gruffly.
Bright Feather, shaking her head and finally stepping away from Dutch’s warm embrace, picked up Stalking Wolf’s tomahawk and walked menacingly toward him. He paled and she took a swing. It was only the ropes that she hit though, setting him free.
“Th … thank … thank you. You, too, Yankee, for what you did,” he managed to say. Dutch was definitely surprised he knew how to thank anyone.
“Well, I have to say I prefer saving the life of a Gray Coat instead of all the times I had to take one in the line of duty,” Dutch admitted.
He turned just in time to see the chief nod at his braves and approached him.
"He is yours, do what you wish with him," the chief said. The warrior society rustled in complaint, but the chief held up his hand and it was silent. They had their turn and lost.
“And the three of us want our original horses back and the others, too, at a later time.”
The chief nodded and this time no one moved in any protest. A few moments later Thunderbolt, White Lightning, and Vellaneau’s horse were produced as Dutch turned to the lieutenant.
Sing The Death Song: Dutch Wilde & Bright Feather Western Adventure (Half Breed Haven Book 6) Page 19