“ ‘Someday’ is not a good answer for a people who are running out of time to replenish their numbers,” Tall Bull scoffed, looking at Snake.
“No, I–”
“I will choose a worthy Dog Soldier from among my warriors for you, since you have no father. The mistake my sad sister made will not be repeated,” her uncle said with satisfaction, ignoring her interruption. “When we have gathered at the meeting place and have time to think of such things. But today, I have news. Not far from here, are some of the steel rails that carry the Iron Horse through our buffalo range. We attack it today!”
The Kansas Pacific, Luci thought, now laying track toward Denver. “Uncle, the whites will fight to protect their Iron Horse, and people will die–”
“We all die sooner or later,” the warrior shouted at her, “but the warriors of our people, the Tsistsistas, will die with weapons in their hands, not on their knees, begging for white man’s food!”
The listening warriors set up a chant of approval. “Yes! Yes! We will attack the whites who help bring the Iron Horse into our country to kill our game and steal our land!”
What to do? Whose side was she on? There was nothing Luci could do to stop them. All she could do was watch as they began the ceremony involved with taking the war trail.
A brave had managed to kill one lonely buffalo when, several years back, there might have been thousands. While the war party made medicine, Luci was ordered to cook the meat. She had to follow careful rituals. Dog Soldiers on a war party could not eat certain parts of the animal. The taboos and the rituals were many.
Tall Bull sent out scouts, called “wolves” even by the Cheyenne. They came back, rode in a ritual circle around the camp, then jumped from their already painted horses.
“We have seen white men working on the track not far from here.”
“How many?” Snake leaned forward eagerly.
“Not more than six or seven.”
“Are there soldiers to guard them? Are there Pawnee with them?” Tall Bull put his fingers up behind his head in the familiar sign that signified Pawnee.
“No, some of them do not even seem to have guns and those who do have left them carelessly on that small wheeled thing they ride down the rails.”
Luci must try to stop this attack. “Do not fire on them,” she said. “They will send a message over the wire and many soldiers will come.”
The men glared at her in silent disapproval that she, a mere woman, had spoken at this war council.
Tall Bull scowled. “My niece has been too long among the whites. She forgets her place.”
The scout said, “I saw no singing wires. I think they may not have gotten them yet.”
“Good!” Tall Bull grunted. “We will butcher them and leave them lying in their own blood!”
Bear Cub had said nothing, sitting away from the circle, sketching on the white man’s paper, but he gave Luci a sympathetic look.
She could stand it no longer. “No!” she began and then stopped when the braves glared at her.
Snake looked from Tall Bull to Luci and smiled. “All your niece needs is a proper husband to teach her what a Cheyenne girl is supposed to know.”
Luci shuddered at the thought but Tall Bull stared into the fire and nodded. “That is true. We will discuss this more when we finally camp at that place whites call Summit Springs and we have time for other thoughts besides war.”
After much ritual and pipe smoking, the warriors spread out on their buffalo robes and dropped off to sleep.
Luci waited until they were asleep, then sneaked to the horse herd. As usual, the crippled boy had been assigned sentry duty. He called out in a hoarse whisper, “Who is there?”
She gestured him to silence. “It’s only me, Luci.”
“What do you want?”
“I–I couldn’t sleep.” She hesitated. Bear Cub cared for her, she had seen it in his eyes. No doubt, she could convince him to give her a horse and help her escape. But what would happen to the crippled boy tomorrow for doing that? No doubt he would be whipped severely . . . or worse. She decided she couldn’t be responsible for that.
Even in the moonlight, as he sat his horse, he sketched pictures.
“Bear Cub, about tomorrow–are you afraid?”
“Yes,” he admitted, “but if I can prove that I am as good as any warrior, perhaps I, too, can become a Dog Soldier. Maybe many years from now when the Old Ones tell tales around the campfire, they will remember my bravery in their songs and stories.”
“I’m sure they will,” she said to comfort him. What could a crippled half-grown boy do that might endure in Cheyenne legends?
There was nothing to do but go back over the rise to the camp. She wanted very much to relieve herself and wash a little dust from her perspiring body. Now that the men were all asleep, she felt safe in doing that. Luci walked to the creek, wondering what she could do about tomorrow’s attack. She could neither warn the railroaders nor escape without a horse. The prairie was too vast.
She pulled off her ragged dress and waded into the creek. The cool water felt good on her hot skin. Too bad she had no soap. She splashed awhile, washing herself, then came up out of the water, reaching for the dress she had left hanging over a sumac bush. A hand reached out of the darkness and handed her the dress.
With a gasp, she grabbed the cloth and held it in front of her as she stumbled backward.
Snake stepped out of the shadows, grinning at her. “Yes, now that I have seen you naked, I think I would like very much to have you for my third wife!”
“How dare you!” She wrapped the dress around herself, knowing she would have to show her nakedness if she attempted to slip it over her head. “I should scream for my uncle!”
But he reached out, grabbed her, and pulled her to him. “Don’t do that! A Dog Soldier isn’t supposed to touch a woman before he goes into battle, you know that? It takes his strength and medicine from him. But in this case, maybe it’s worth the risk of bad luck!”
Before she could scream, he had his mouth on hers, hot and wet, his dirty hands on her naked body. His skin was slick with sweat in the heat of the night and he smelled of dirt, smoke, and blood.
She struggled and he clamped his hand over her mouth. “If you scream, your uncle will be angry with me, yes, but being a man, he will understand. Besides, to save the family honor, he would force you to marry me.”
It was probably true. She managed to pull away from him, but she didn’t scream for help. Snake had the dress in his hand and she could only try to cover herself with her own hands. “Stay away from me, Snake! I don’t want to be your woman.”
“I have many horses and am considered a rich man.” He threw the dress to the ground, put his hand on her bare shoulder. “Because I already have two wives to do the work of curing hides and drying meat, you would not have to do much work. Mostly you would warm my blankets at night until I put a baby in your belly.”
“That thought sickens me.” She backed away from him. “Besides, this is not proper talk between a man and an unmarried maiden.”
“So now you want to behave like a proper Cheyenne girl,” he sneered. Before she could stop him, he grabbed her and ran his hands over her bare body while she struggled. “Probably some soldier has already taken your virginity.”
“That’s not true!” But she couldn’t break away from him no matter how hard she struggled. To the Cheyenne, chastity was very important in a bride. Most of the Cheyenne girls wore a chastity belt to protect their virtue from overeager males until marriage. His hands were all over her, pawing at her, feeling her breasts. She struggled to get away, but she was small and he was a big man. He pulled her hard against him so that she could feel his hard maleness pulsating against her belly.
He forced his tongue between her lips, his hot, dirty hands stroking her wet body. She bit him and he struck her. But he didn’t let go of her. “When you are my bride, I will teach you proper behavior,” he snarled. “I will beat you until you will be
glad to lie down on my buffalo robe and let me do anything I want to you! Anything!”
His tone scared her. There was probably no end to the sexual cruelties he could think of to inflict. Would he rape her tonight, even if it meant nullifying the magic powder, sihyainoeisseeo, that he had already sprinkled on himself for good medicine? The way he was looking at her, he evidently thought it worth the risk.
She’d have to trick him. She smiled invitingly at him. “Perhaps I have been too hasty. But then, what would you think of me if I didn’t protest a little? Maybe I should consider you after all. Let us lie down together here in the shadow of these bushes.”
Studying her in the moonlight, he looked suspicious at first, but as she sat down on the grass, he did, too. “Now, Snake, lie back and let me show you what the white whores do.”
He grinned, nodded willingly, and lay down on the grass. Luci was waiting for her chance. Like a flash, she jumped up, grabbed her dress, and ran madly toward the campfire.
No one stirred. Quickly, she slipped on the dress and lay down on her blanket near her uncle. Snake strode back, glowered at her across the campfire, but even he wouldn’t risk rape with her uncle so close. She heard him curse as he lay down on the other side of the circle.
Trembling, she lay sleepless, considering her future. What would she do after all the Cheyenne had gathered at Summit Springs? There when the renegades camped and rested, she would no doubt be forced into marriage with the ugly warrior. Besides being a friend of her uncle’s, Snake was a rich man of many ponies. No doubt Tall Bull would look with favor on him when he came to ask for her as a bride.
Johnny Ace. Her mind went to his torrid, but gentle lovemaking. How she longed for the protection of his strong arms, the security of his embrace. If he had been here, he would have killed Snake for daring even to touch her. But he wasn’t here. He was back at the fort, making plans to lead the soldiers against the Cheyenne.
There was nothing she could do tonight, but sometime in the next few days, maybe she could sneak away and escape.
And go where? she thought. There seemed to be no refuge for someone caught between two worlds, two civilizations.
Friday, May 28. The Dog Soldiers mounted up to ambush the men working on the track.
The war party, with Luci along, rode within a quarter mile of the crew, and saw them laughing and talking as they worked on the rails. Sure enough, they weren’t all armed, and those who had guns appeared to have left them on the handcar a few hundred feet down the track.
Luci thought they probably hadn’t dealt with any Indian attacks in a long time so they were getting careless; or maybe they hadn’t heard the Cheyenne had bolted the reservation and were raiding through Kansas.
Before they could be seen, Tall Bull motioned the war party down into a nearby gully. The work crew moved slowly closer to them. In the heat of the day, Luci felt the perspiration run down between her breasts. Her mouth tasted dry and salty, but she was hesitant to reach for the canteen of tepid water on her saddle. She needed both hands on her reins if, in the outbreak of gunfire, her roan horse should bolt.
There was little breeze in the gully. The horses stamped at flies and somewhere a cicada buzzed rhythmically in the heat. Faintly, she heard the workmen laughing and talking as they moved nearer. She took a deep breath, wondering what she could do to save them. She smelled the scent of sweating horses and men, the dry dust of the Kansas prairie.
The crew talked about what might be waiting for them for supper back at the station. Fossil Creek Station. Some of them were not going to live to eat that supper, she thought desperately, looking for help toward Bear Cub. He was armed, although she wondered how good a shot he was. At least he was brave enough to try. But his precious sketch book was tied up in the bundle behind his saddle.
She must do something, but what? If the workmen only had some idea the Indians were in the gully, they would run for the handcart, get on it, and try to get back to the station. If they ran away, she could save lives on both sides. An idea came to her. It was dangerous for herself, but she didn’t care anymore if she could stop this massacre.
She dug her heels into her nervous pony’s flanks. At once it began to buck and dance. “I–I can’t stop it!” she screamed at the surprised Cheyenne. “It’s running away with me!” And she gave the pony its head, letting it gallop up out of the gully, dancing and pitching across the prairie.
She heard the surprised exclamations of the rail workers, the shouts of dismay behind her that the advantage of surprise had been lost. Then all around her was noise and shots and confusion.
“Injuns! Run for it!”
“Aiee! Attack! Attack!” The Dog Soldiers galloped up out of the gully, trying to make up by speed for the edge that was gone.
Mostly she remembered the open-mouthed surprise of the white men as they stared for a heart-stopping moment. Then they scrambled toward the handcart parked up the track a few hundred feet away.
Shots rang out. The acrid scent of powder and smoke swirled around her as the Dog Soldiers returned fire with the new Winchesters.
All she could do was sit her nervous, dancing pony, watching the bright blur of colors as the action happened. The white men ran for the handcart; the Indians tried to stop them with a barrage of gunfire. A white man screamed out but managed to keep running as the others reached the cart and grabbed for their guns.
One young boy seemed no older than Bear Cub. He looked frightened and his hands shook. His rifle jammed as he tried to put too many cartridges in it. Only three others had rifles, she noted, but they were the repeating Spencers such as the ones she heard the men at Beecher’s Island had carried. But one of the men didn’t seem to have any ammunition for his. He kept looking around and begging the others, but they must not have any spare ammunition, she thought.
In the confusion, both sides fired back and forth at each other without much effect; the white men seemed too terrified to take proper aim, the braves too unaccustomed to the fine rifles to use them properly.
With all seven of the whites finally on the handcart, they tried to get under way, back toward the refuge of the station. The braves, seeing what they were attempting to do, rode in circles around the handcart to prevent that.
After a heart-stopping moment, the white men got the hand cart moving slowly, some working the handles, others firing at the Indians.
A brave cried out, grasped the spurting wound in his painted chest as if to hold his life inside. But it was already running out, hot and red between his fingers. He slid down the dun pony, leaving a scarlet smear as he fell.
Even as she watched, a white man shrieked, pitched forward, and fell from the cart. The others looked too busy to try to pull him back on as they got the handcart moving again.
There was nothing she could do but watch. Bear Cub raced about, firing, but she doubted that he knew enough about a rifle to hit anyone with it. A grin of pure delight lit Snake’s ugly, painted features as he took careful aim at the creaking cart inching its way along the track.
When he pulled the trigger, another white man screamed and tumbled from the cart to lie crumpled between the rails behind it. Immediately, the warriors dashed in to touch the body and count coup. She wasn’t sure the men were even dead when Snake, ignoring the deadly rifle fire, rushed in, leaned over to count coup on the bodies, and began to scalp them.
She must be more white than Indian after all, Luci thought. At the sight and scent of blood, she rode off to one side, became very sick, and had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting.
Could she escape in all this confusion of battle? She looked around, but decided it was impossible. Her pony wasn’t the best and the warriors would easily ride her down and recapture her.
The barrage of shots continued. Another brave yelled and fell from his horse. On the handcart, two of the white men dripped blood from wounds. They had the handcart going again with the Cheyenne keeping a more respectful distance from the deadly fire of the Spencers, but
still attempting to stop them from reaching the station.
Fossil Station. A mere dugout a few hundred yards down the track. The despairing look on the white men’s faces told her they didn’t think they’d make it.
If only Snake would get hit or even her uncle, that might discourage the war party. They would take it as a sign of bad medicine and pull back. But the firing and shouting and screaming continued, with the crew working their way a few feet before they stopped and fired again, then labored. yet closer to the dugout.
So near and yet so far. But about that time, a man ran out of the station and began firing. He was well armed and a good shot.
“Come on, boys!” he waved wildly. Encouraged, they got the cart moving again while he held the Indians off.
Luci began to urge them on, wanting them to make it. It was then she realized she wasn’t Cheyenne deep in her heart where it counted most.
The white men struggled to get the handcart farther down the track while the man from the station laid a covering fire. Then they jumped and ran for it, half dragging, half carrying the wounded.
They were safe inside! Luci forgot herself and cried out in relief, but Snake cursed and shouted, shook his fist at the dugout, and was answered with a volley of rifle fire from inside.
The Cheyenne rode out of range and conferred. Snake said, “Let us keep attacking until we overrun them!”
But Tall Bull shook his head. “Would you kill all my men? No doubt the whites have plenty of ammunition and food inside. We could attack a long time before we killed them. It is not worth the cost in Cheyenne blood! There’s easier prey along the river not far from here!”
Snake rode over to Luci. “Your bucking horse cost us the surprise and the win!”
She tried to look innocent. “I think maybe a bee stung him. I couldn’t help it! Would you call Tall Bull’s niece a liar?”
He seemed to consider. Even he was obviously not that brave. “Your uncle is right. There are unsuspecting farmers all over this area. They have food, hidden gold, and soft women! We will attack them!”
But Tall Bull shook his head. “For a day or two, we must find a place to camp and rest. We have wounded to attend to. Then we will hit the farmers when it is so quiet, they think we have ridden out of the area and they are safe!”
Cheyenne Caress Page 32