Rain Song did not respond at once, her eyes thoughtful and deep, then she said, “Little Wolf will come. All the soldiers cannot stop him.”
Yellow Hand shook his head slowly. “There are too many soldiers. If he comes, they will catch him—or kill him. I think he will not come. It would be suicide.” He hesitated, his eyes never leaving her face. “I think you should forget about this man and think about your own life. You are young and a fine-looking woman. I would be proud to have you for my wife. I am an important man to the soldiers. You would never have to run and hide in the mountains again if you were the wife of an army scout.”
Rain Song lowered her gaze once more as she replied. “I am honored that you want me, but I have given my heart to Little Wolf, and there can only be one man for me.”
Yellow Hand persisted. “He will not come. He would be a fool to come, and if he does, he’s a dead man. Then you will have no husband.”
“He will come because he is Little Wolf,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Yellow Hand shrugged and turned to leave. “Think about what I have said. I am an important man to the soldiers.”
5
Darkness hung like a heavy blanket over the valley. It was a moonless night, the stars only tiny pinpricks in an otherwise solid black sky. The lone figure kneeling at the edge of the creek had not moved a muscle for almost a quarter of an hour as he watched the routine of the soldier fort. The regular passing of the sentries along the outer fence was backlighted by the few small campfires among the rows of tents.
After watching the sentries for a while to determine the interval between their rounds, Little Wolf rose silently. When the two sentries met and then reversed their directions, he quickly made his way to the fence and lightly dropped to the ground on the other side. He was now in the compound. He wasted no time in finding cover behind a building that appeared to be an office of some kind. To his right, there was another building that appeared to be a storeroom or warehouse. He crawled between the two buildings and lay flat on his stomach. The buildings were far enough apart that he could lie there unseen in the darkness while he studied the camp layout.
Where was she being held? His eyes moved back and forth across the expanse of parade ground before him. He had scaled the fence on the south end of the fort because there was practically no activity on this end of the parade ground. There were many soldiers, but most of them were on the eastern side of the compound, some in buildings and more in tents beyond.
As he lay there watching, he memorized the layout of the buildings and eliminated those that he felt sure Rain Song would not be held in. At the far end of the parade ground were two buildings that might be possibilities. There was not enough light to see them clearly but he could see a flagpole in front of one of them. He would have to make his way around the fort and come in at the north end to check them out.
He started to get up when he heard the door of the building on his left open and a soldier walked out on the porch. After stretching his arms up over his head and turning his neck side to side several times, he unbuttoned his pants and proceeded to urinate off the edge of the porch. Finished, the soldier went back inside. Little Wolf got to his feet and moved to a window at the side of the building. Looking in, he could see the soldier seated at a desk, his feet propped on the corner of it. It was apparent that the man was alone. As he anticipated, Rain Song was not there. He quickly retraced his steps, going over the fence once again, and made his way around to the north end of the fort.
Scouting around the western side of the fort to the northern end, he found the stables and beyond, a hay yard. Before moving down to the fence, he paused and watched for a long while. The pause was worthwhile, for after several minutes had passed with no sound save that of an occasional whinny from one of the horses in the stable, he saw the sudden flare of a match when a sentry lit his pipe. In a moment, all was dark once more. Instead of advancing toward the fence and the buildings inside the parade ground, he worked his way around to the far end of the stables.
Crawling almost to the end of the building, Little Wolf paused again to watch and listen. After a few minutes, he heard a muffled voice. His eyes strained to locate the source. The first voice was answered by a second voice, and he was able to pinpoint the source. They were inside the stable. His mind recalled the many raids he had led on the forts on the Bozeman trail, when his Cheyennes had ridden with Red Cloud’s Sioux. From those experiences, he knew that the soldiers posted sentries around the outside of the stables, not inside. His instincts immediately cautioned him to be alert.
It did not surprise him that there might be a trap laid for him. The men at the agency had told Sore Hand that the soldiers knew he was Little Wolf. The fact that Rain Song was being held at the fort like a prisoner was indication enough that they hoped to catch him as well. Where she was being held was still to be determined, so keeping low and moving without sound, he climbed through the fence around the hay yard and made his way to the other side. Pausing frequently to look and listen, he made his way to the parade ground fence, moving with the quickness and stealth of a mountain lion.
Kneeling in the dark, watching the building before him, Little Wolf glanced toward the parade ground and the soldiers’ tents. Off to his left, in the corner of the fenced parade ground, there was a small group of tents, apart from the soldiers. Around the fire in the center of the tents sat a circle of Indians. Scouts for the army, he thought with contempt, working for the soldiers who had driven them off their ancestral lands. Looking back toward the building with the tall flagpole before it, he determined it to be the guard house because he could see the reflection of firelight on the iron bars over the windows. This should be the place, he thought, and moved up closer before dropping down on his belly again.
He lay there for a few moments. Suddenly his eye caught a slight movement near the corner of the building and, while he watched, a man moved out of the shadow of the building and made his way, half trotting, across the clearing to the next building. Moments later, the man ran back and disappeared into the shadows behind the guard house. Inching his way even closer, Little Wolf could just make out the whispered exchange between the two soldiers hidden in the shadows.
“Dammit, Spruell, you’re gonna get our asses chewed out. The lieutenant said to stay out of sight and you go traipse-assing over to the hospital.”
“I had to borrow some tobacco from Purcell. Hell, that damn Injun ain’t gonna show his ass around here anyway. In a fort full of soldiers? We’re just settin’ out here in the dark for nuthin’.”
Little Wolf studied the situation for a moment. They expect me to try to break into the guard house, he said to himself, so the soldiers are hidden behind the building. But there were guards behind the hospital too. Why are they guarding the back of the hospital? Little Wolf thought. Unless that is actually where they are holding Rain Song. Knowing that he must be certain where Rain Song was being held in order to strike quickly and get away safely, he decided he must wait and watch for his opportunity. He considered the possibility of taking out the sentries one by one until he had eliminated all six, but decided the risk was too great. And it would take too long. I’ll just wait and see what happens, he thought. Maybe I’ll see a better way. He withdrew to the corner of the fence.
Every few hours throughout the night, new guards would come to relieve the sentries. Little Wolf watched from the corner of the parade ground. Finally, the deep night began to weaken and the blackness began to bleed into the gray light of dawn. It would be daylight before long. As objects around him began to take on a hazy definition, Little Wolf knew he could stay by the fence no longer. Looking around him he searched for a vantage point that might afford a view of both the hospital and guard house while giving him the cover he needed. He decided on the hay yard next to the stables. Crawling until he had retreated a safe distance from the cover of the fence, Little Wolf got to his feet and made his way toward the hay yard fence. On the opposite corne
r of the hay yard, he found a shallow gully just deep enough to hide him.
The first slender rays of sunlight spread over the hills, causing a long shadow from the stables to creep across the hay yard. Little Wolf waited. A bugle shattered the quiet remnants of the night and, only minutes later, the fort stirred to life. From his vantage point in the gully, he watched as a lone figure walked from the tents, making straight for the guard house. The figure, a soldier with sergeant’s stripes on his arm, approached the sentries at the guard house.
“All right, Spruell,” Sergeant Baskin called out, “you men are relieved. Go get some breakfast.”
As the Cheyenne warrior watched from the gully, Baskin proceeded to the hospital and then to the stables, relieving all six guards. There was one guard left that Little Wolf had not seen in the darkness. He was posted before a door in the rear of the hospital. The sergeant stopped to talk to this guard for a few minutes, but when the sergeant walked away, the guard remained. Little Wolf knew then where Rain Song was.
Considering the situation that was presented him now, Little Wolf’s thoughts were interrupted by another bugle call and the camp came alive in earnest. From buildings and tents, soldiers came on the run and began to form lines in the middle of the parade ground. Little Wolf remembered seeing this procedure before while lying in ambush with Black Feather and Sleeps Standing outside the forts on the Powder River. He knew what was next. They would count heads and then stand at attention while the flag was raised up to the top of the tall pole.
It happened just as he anticipated. While the bugle played once more and the flag was slowly raised, Little Wolf noticed that everyone in the entire camp seemed to be rigidly still, unmoving. Only the small circle of Indian scouts that had now gathered around their campfire ignored the bugle. He noticed something else: The sentry posted at the rear of the hospital had turned to face the flag and was also standing at rigid attention. Little Wolf knew at once that this was the opportunity he was waiting for. He watched intently until the soldiers were told to stand at ease and the sentry turned back toward the door.
How long will it take? he wondered. He could move quickly enough to overpower the guard and break into the room, and he could do it in broad daylight. But was there enough time, while the soldiers were distracted, to rescue Rain Song and make it back to the hay yard before he was seen? It was questionable. If he could somehow get closer to the hospital before the formation started, he could make it. He would have to think hard on a way. Now it was time to make his way back to the hills behind the stables and head for his horse. He would leave now and return when night came again.
* * *
Rain Song gazed out the one small window at the fading light of another day of captivity. Soon her little room would be dark and she would wrap herself in the blankets provided for her to protect against the night chill. There was a small stove in one end of the converted storeroom, but there was no wood to burn in it. Yellow Hand had told her that the soldier chief thought it unwise to provide her with the means to start a fire. So he had ordered two blankets to be placed in the room for her use. The officer, the one who had interceded on her behalf when she was accosted by the mess attendant, had brought her two additional blankets.
Now, as she stared at the darkening forms that were the hills beyond the valley, she wondered if Little Wolf was near. He might be hiding now in those very hills she was looking toward from her window. She was alone and afraid in this strange place. But she never doubted that he would come for her, in spite of what Yellow Hand said. All the soldiers in the territory could not keep Little Wolf from coming for her. She remained at the window until she could no longer make out the line of hills on the far side of the creek. Then she went to her pallet in the corner of the room and lay down to sleep.
Before she could close her eyes, there was a gentle knock on the door and, a moment later, it was opened a crack. A voice she recognized as that of Yellow Hand whispered her name softly.
“I am here,” she replied. “What do you want?”
He pushed the door open wider. “I wanted to make sure you were all right—that you didn’t need anything.”
“I need to be set free and allowed to go to Little Wolf,” she replied without hesitating.
“Ah, but I cannot do that.” He stepped inside the door, straining to make out her features in the darkened room. “Can you see that I have come to make sure you are all right? I am concerned for you. Why do you wait for a dead man?”
She was at once alarmed. “Little Wolf is dead?”
“Not yet, but he will be if he tries to see you. There are soldiers surrounding this building. They wait for him. They will kill him if he comes.”
She was relieved and sank back to her pallet. “I am Little Wolf’s wife. He will come.”
Yellow Hand’s patience was wearing thin. “They will hunt him down and kill him even if he doesn’t come. You waste your time waiting for him.” Then his voice softened once again. “If you were the wife of an army scout, you could have many nice things, things your Cheyenne renegade could never buy you.”
“I am Little Wolf’s woman. Now, go away and let me sleep.”
Unable to hide his anger and frustration, he stormed out the door. Just before slamming it, he uttered one last thing. “We’ll see how you feel when your Little Wolf’s scalp is hanging from the flagpole, you foolish woman.”
After Yellow Hand left, the sentry peeked in to make sure everything was as it should be. Satisfied, he closed the door again, leaving her to drift off to sleep.
Morning light squeezed through the tiny window and fell across the face of the sleeping woman. She awoke immediately and lay there for a moment, listening for the first bugle call that told the soldiers to get up. Another night had passed and still Little Wolf had not come for her.
* * *
A few moments before Rain Song was awakened, a dark, silent form moved quickly cross the parade ground fence and disappeared behind the rows of tents. As the first gray light descended upon the sleeping camp, a drowsy Nez Perce scout emerged from his tent and, after relieving his bladder, went to rekindle the campfire. In a few moments, he was joined by another Indian, who set about making some coffee. Before the bugle blew reveille, a group of six Indian scouts had gathered around the now healthy campfire, talking and waiting for the soldiers to finish with their silly formations and get on with breakfast.
As the first bugle call sounded, no one paid any attention to the tall, lean figure in buckskins that suddenly appeared at the edge of the circle until he seated himself among those gathered there. At once, the talking stopped as the scouts at first looked at the stranger in curiosity. Then it seemed there was a total, heavy silence that descended upon the circle. None of the Nez Perce scouts had ever seen him before, but they all knew instantly that the imposing figure seated among them was none other than the white Cheyenne, Little Wolf.
There was not a word spoken. The fierce eyes of the Cheyenne warrior told them all that needed to be said. There was no thought of crying out the alarm. It was almost as if they were spellbound by a deadly serpent. And yet, the Nez Perces were not frozen by fear of the tall warrior seated across from them, his rifle lying across his thighs. They were moved by his brazen appearance in the fort, one warrior among the many hundred soldiers, fearless and determined, a symbol of what they were once—free and untamed. Not one of them was inclined to sound the alarm on a warrior who had become almost a legend among the Cheyenne and the Sioux, even when Sergeant Baskin walked across the parade ground on his way to relieve the special guard detail around the hospital.
So they sat silently watching the Cheyenne war chief until the bugle blew again, calling the soldiers to the morning formation. Little Wolf’s gaze traversed the circle, looking into the eyes of each man. Then, still without a word, he nodded briefly and got to his feet, leaving them to talk among themselves quietly.
Private Edmond Banks turned toward the flagpole and snapped to attention as the bu
gler announced the raising of the flag. He came to Present Arms moments before the blow to the back of his skull engulfed him in darkness. He was to remember nothing that happened afterward as his unconscious body was dragged back against the wall.
Inside the converted storeroom, Rain Song was startled almost to the point of crying out when the door was kicked open with such force as to almost splinter it. The next instant she was flying into the arms of her husband. He took a moment to lift her gently off her feet and embrace her before springing into action once more.
“Come, Little One,” he said softly, and led her out the door. They moved quickly around the hospital building. He lifted her over the fence and, holding her hand tightly, ran toward the stables. Knowing that the sentries were no longer there, he ran through the stables and out the back. A short way up the hill behind, the horses waited, held by Sore Hand. He paused a moment to listen for sounds of pursuit. There were none.
6
“Don’t tell me that! Dammit, man, don’t tell me that!” Colonel Wheaton sprang up from his desk so violently that he knocked his chair over. Lieutenant Paul Simmons jumped to retrieve the errant chair and replace it while the colonel, ignoring him, stormed around his desk in order to thrust his face inches from that of a totally chastised Captain Malpas. Wheaton’s searing glare held Malpas transfixed and unable to reply in his own defense. After what seemed to the younger officers in the room to be an eternity, the colonel spoke again, this time softly and under control. “Captain Malpas, I hope to hell you’re not telling me that one lone savage—one man—politely walked right into this fort and took the woman, and then walked out unnoticed. Explain that to me, Captain. How could that happen when you were supposedly set up and waiting for him?”
Malpas shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, straining to think of an excuse, knowing there was none. He glanced quickly at Lieutenant Paxton for support. Brice, standing to one side with Paul Simmons, would have come to his company commander’s aid, but he had nothing to offer either. The fact of the matter was, just as the colonel stated, Little Wolf had simply walked in and took the woman. She had promised that he would. No shots fired, no pursuit mounted, the only casualty being one private with a busted head. Looking back at the colonel, Malpas finally stammered an attempt to excuse his actions. “Sir, I had six men, seven counting the guard on the door, watching that room every night. I…we…”—he glanced again at Brice Paxton—“never considered the possibility the renegade would walk in in broad daylight with the whole regiment in formation.”
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