Hugh Glass - Bruce Bradley

by Bruce Bradley

  "Aye, but we should be able to arrange something. First thing, we'll contact the shipping office and let them know what happened to the Gallant--and to us! They should send us some money, even if it isn't much. Then, with them behind us, we'll contact the government, tell them what's been happening in Campeche, and then the Navy can go and blast the bastards to Hell!"

  "What if they don't believe us?" Clint said. "What if they charge us with piracy?"

  "Oh, there will probably be an inquest, but with both of us backing each other up, it should be all right. What other choice did we have?"

  "That's true, I suppose..." Clint's voice trailed off and he was quiet for a moment. "You know," he said finally, "it's too bad--we never did get to meet Lafitte!"

  Hugh laughed out loud. "Go to sleep," he said.

  ***

  It seemed as though he'd just fallen asleep. Something poked Hugh hard in the ribs. He rolled over, sluggishly at first, then faster as his mind cleared. He sat up quickly.

  The two men were not alone.

  There were six of them, indians, the like of whom Hugh had never seen. Three were on horseback and three were on their feet, standing over Clint and Hugh while their horses waited nearby. The indians were frightening to look at. Their faces were painted completely over in shades of red, yellow, white, and black. Two of them wore their hair long and loose. The others had shaved their heads, leaving only a narrow strip that ran from the brow back, over the center of their heads, Mohawk style. They had laced feathers into this narrow strip of hair, giving the indians a bird-like appearance. One of the two who were mounted wore what looked like a wolf skin across his shoulders. The others were all naked from the waist up. Their bodies and scalps were painted the same as their faces. Each man wore a necklace that was different from those of the others. Hugh noticed that the mounted Indian with the wolf robe wore a necklace made from huge claws, which rould only have come from a great bear.

  The men on the ground all carried painted shields. Two of them carried lances. One held a sort of stone ax. The indians who were mounted all carried rifles.

  The indian closest to Hugh jabbed his lance threateningly and spoke in a language that was unfamiliar to the two white men. Clint glanced quickly at Hugh.

  "I think," Hugh said carefully, "that he wants us to stand."

  Slowly, keeping their eyes on the indians, the two white men got to their feet. As they did, they managed to edge closer together.

  "I heard somewhere," Hugh said quietly, "that the only thing indians respect is strength and courage, so be strong."

  "I'll try," Clint told him.

  That brought an involuntary smile--probably from nervousness--to Hugh's lips. Clint was one of the strongest men Hugh had ever met.

  The indian with the lance didn't see the smile. He was walking a slow circle around the two men, examining them. The indian with the stone ax did. He came forward quickly, yelling at Hugh. Without warning, he jammed the head of the ax into Hugh's midsection. Hugh doubled over, coughing, but managed to straighten up with a big smile for the man who had struck him. The indian glared back.

  "I don't think he likes you, Hugh." Clint said.

  The indian moved over to Clint. Glaring, he spoke softly to Clint, his words heavy with malice. Striking suddenly, he hit Clint in the stomach with the stone ax, just as he had done with Hugh a moment earlier. Expecting the blow, Clint tightened the muscles in his stomach. To Hugh, Clint seemed not to feel the blow at all. In a blur of speed Clint reached out and, grabbing the head of the ax in one hand, stiff-armed the indian in the chest. The blow caught the indian off guard and knocked him completely off his feet. The man landed a few feet away in the dirt, in a sitting position. Recovering quickly, the indian jumped to his feet, pulling a knife from his belt. Before he could move toward Clint a sharp word from the man in the wolf robe stopped him. The man with the knife hesitated for a moment, then put the knife away.

  Clint now held the ax. Taking it in both hands, he broke the ax across his knee and threw it down in front of the indian he had knocked down.

  None of the other indians had moved. The indian with the lance, who had been circling the two white men when the commotion started, now walked around and stood in front of Clint. He looked Clint over and gave him a slight nod of approval. "Well," Hugh said quietly, "it looks like we got their attention." The indians began talking amongst themselves. The man with the lance pointed at the moccasins on the white men's feet. They seemed curious about these. At the same time they found Clint's bow and arrows somewhat humorous.

  Abruptly, wolf-robe decided it was time to go. One of the indians came forward with a rope. He pointed at Clint, then crossed his arms together at the wrists, indicating what he wanted Clint to do.

  "What do you think?" Clint asked Hugh, continuing to stare at the indian, but not complying. "Do we go along, or fight?"

  "Well, considering that they've got three rifles trained on us, we may as well see what they want."

  Reluctantly, they allowed their arms to be bound in front of them. Then, mounting their horses, the indians led them away in single file. The rider of the second horse led Hugh, by means of a rope that was tied to Hugh's bound arms. The rider of the fourth horse led Clint in the same way.

  Traveling north and west, they moved at a pace that was hard on the two men who were afoot. Fortunately, three weeks of walking had toughened them and they were able to keep up. The terrain didn't help them. It was all rolling hills, sometimes grassy, but often covered with rocks, brush, and small trees, places that were difficult for the men being pulled along behind.

  It was late afternoon before they stopped. The hours of keeping up with the horses had left Hugh at the point of exhaustion. The last two hours of walking-running had left an unending stitch in his side. When the horses stopped, he literally fell to his knees. Behind him, Clint did the same.

  Their respite didn't last long. The indians, wanting to set up camp for the night, soon came and collected the two white men and led them to a nearby stream, allowing them to drink for the first time since waking them up. Then, after checking the bonds on their wrists, the indians bound the white men's feet as well, and set about making their camp for the night.

  Hugh was too tired from keeping up with the horses to care about running away. Moments after being left alone, he fell asleep.

  ***

  He awoke to the smell of roasting meat. Hunger gnawed at him, but it was overshadowed by the ache in his wrists and ankles, and by the frustrating closeness that being bound gave him. Clint was no better off. Any attempts at finding relief by stretching or straining at their bonds only increased their discomfort.

  From the position he lay in, Hugh could see the camp. There was a fire, with what looked like an antelope roasting over it. Three of the indians lounged nearby, talking softly, while a fourth lay on his back, near the fire. The man on his back was thumping rhythmically on his chest and humming a low, sad-sounding song. The other two indians did not seem to be around.

  Presently, one of the indians rose and turned the antelope. He spoke to one of the others, who rose and went to the stream for water. When he came back, the "cook" cut off a large piece off of the roast and motioned toward the two white men. The second indian then brought food and water to Hugh. Grunting from pain, Hugh managed to work himself into a sitting position and accepted it. The indian then did the same for Clint.

  Throughout it all, the indian on his back kept thumping his chest and humming, stopping only for a short time to feed himself before he returned to his music. Despite himself, Hugh found the indian's music strangely comforting. He wondered who these people were and what they intended for him and for Clint. They weren't Karankawas. Hugh was certain they had left Karankawa territory far behind. Otherwise, he would never have given in and allowed himself to be tied up by them, no matter how many rifles they had.

  These indians could have been from any other tribe. Hugh's knowledge of indians had been limited to what
he had been able to read about them while at sea. This far west, he doubted that they would be friendly to white men, although they must have traded with them--they had rifles.

  Aside from being tied, and from being forced to keep up, Hugh and Clint had not been treated badly.

  Not yet, anyhow.

  ***

  Late into the night he had the dream again. Sarah was at the stove, cooking chicken and dumplings. Wes and Phil were in front of the hearth, playing with the toy carts Hugh had made for them. Despite it being Christmas, there was a sadness about Sarah that bothered Hugh, a distance. It made him feel anxious...

  There was a knock at the door. Hugh answered it but there was no one there. Concerned, he closed the door.

  Again the knock. Hugh opened the door. Again, nothing. Worried, he closed the door.

  Once more the knock came. Hugh was starting to feel really afraid. He opened the door. No one was there. Cautiously, he stepped outside.

  From out of nowhere, an enormous beast came at him, all teeth and claws and massive brute strength, rending and tearing at him. Hugh tried to get away, but it bore down on him, getting him into it's huge jaws, crushing him, tearing at him with it's claws, tearing and tearing...

  He awoke in complete panic, unable to move his arms or legs. The indian with the wolfskin robe stood over him, watching, the necklace of bear claws dangling from around his neck.

  Those were the claws...

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE TWO MEN spent a restless, uncomfortable night, restricted by their bonds. They were awake before the indians. When they were finally allowed to get up and move around, and to relieve themselves, the freedom of movement was almost painful.

  The second day was much the same as the first. They continued traveling west throughout the day, stopping late in the afternoon to set up camp for the night. The next day was the same, and the day after that. They passed herds of elk and deer, none of which seemed frightened of them. The indians took what they needed and kept moving. Hugh began to lose track of the days...

  The indians treatment of them was rough, but not particularly cruel. They were fed when the indians ate, were given water when they needed it, and in general, shared the same conditions as their captors. As far as Hugh could tell, the man that Clint had knocked down held no ill will toward them.

  One afternoon, while the sun was still high in the sky, they began to pass by what looked to Hugh to be signs of civilization. There were no roads, only trails, but they began to pass through areas that had been cultivated. Small, numerous patches of vegetable gardens sprang up around them. As yet, they saw no people, though. This went on for three or four miles. Then they passed a group of indian women who were working in one of the patches. The women ran over and began chattering excitedly to the men on horseback, checking out the two white men who trailed along behind as they did. Then the group continued on their way. An hour later they entered the indian village.

  It was an interesting sight, and not at all what Hugh Glass would have expected. The village had a wooden palisade around it, about fifteen feet high. They entered through a gate, though no one seemed to be on guard.

  The indians lived in earthen domes. Each dome was about fifty feet across and fifteen-to-twenty feet high. There were about forty or fifty of the domes, all grouped together without any particular pattern. Each dome had an entrance that extended roughly ten feet from the front. Hugh found it interesting that all the entrances faced the same direction, and this was east. As they entered the village, people began to exit the domes, coming out to greet them. Within moments after their arrival, they were surrounded by several hundred men, women, and children, and at least that many dogs.

  The warrior with the wolf-skin robe and the bear claw necklace came back and, drawing a knife, cut their bonds, freeing their hands for the first time in days. The increased circulation caused Hugh's hands to tingle, almost painfully.

  A group of twenty or thirty children had gathered to stare at the two white men. A young girl, about eight years old, brought forward a bowl of water and handed it to Hugh. Hugh accepted, strangely touched.

  "Thank you," he told her.

  The little girl smiled and went to get some water for Clint.

  Wolf-robe came back and motioned for Hugh and Clint to follow. Parting the crowd before them; the indian led the way to the middle of the village. They stopped in front of one of the earthen domes. An old man came out. He was dressed much like the others in that he was bare chested, and wore a breechcloth, with leggings and moccasins. He also wore a great bearskin robe over his shoulders, and wore a necklace of bear claws that hung halfway down his belly. Hugh assumed this was the chief.

  The old man gave Hugh a strange look, almost as if he recognized him from somewhere. There was something. Hugh didn't know what it could be. There was no possible way that he and the old man could ever have met.

  The old indian turned his attention on Clint, looking him over and nodding. Some words passed between him and the younger warrior that they both found amusing. Then the old man, with a broad grin at the two white men, made an expansive gesture and said something which, to Hugh, sounded like some sort of welcome. Immediately, the whole village crowded in on them, patting them on the back, smiling and chattering and ushering them into the nearest mound.

  The mound had an entrance to it of about a dozen feet. The inside was quite large. Hugh guessed the diameter to be about forty feet. The center was held up by four poles, each about a foot thick, that formed a square in the middle of the room. A fire pit sat in the center of this. A large hole in the middle of the roof allowed smoke to escape.

  The two white men were led to a spot just in front of the fire and, by gesture, were asked to sit. Food was brought to them. The entire tribe seemed to crowd in behind them to watch them eat. Bewildered, Hugh and Clint accepted the food, which consisted of a sort of stew, and both were surprised at how good it actually was.

  The old chief seemed pleased. Hugh didn't know what to think. In an instant they had gone from being prisoners, bound hand and foot, to honored guests. Whatever it was that had turned the tide for them, he was thankful for it.

  After they had finished eating, the chief called for one of the women to come forward. She was older than most of the women, about Hugh's age. Again, through gestures, the chief indicated that the two men should follow her. The woman led them to the edge of the village, to the river. As before, the entire village seemed to allow them.

  When they reached the river, the woman immediately turned and began to remove Hugh's clothing.

  "Whoa!" he said, stopping her and stepping back. "What's going on?"

  The woman gave him a puzzled look, then reached once more for the buttons on his trousers. Again, he stopped her.

  "Will you please stop?" he told her. The woman gave him an uncomprehending look.

  Behind them, the indians who had followed seemed to find the whole thing amusing. Clint looked at them. When he turned back to Hugh and the woman, he was grinning.

  "What's the matter, Hugh? Haven't you ever had a woman try to get your pants off before?"

  "Very funny," Hugh said, not taking his eyes off the woman. "Go ahead and laugh. She'll be after yours next!"

  Looking down at his own attire, Clint said, "She can have the bloody rags! They're about to fall off me as it is!"

  Once more the woman started toward Hugh. When he backed away again she stopped. Giving him a perturbed look, she said something he couldn't understand. Immediately, fifteen or twenty women came down to them. Surrounding Hugh and Clint, the women forced the two men out into the river and began to pull at their clothes. Tattered as it was, their clothing tore easily. The women seemed to make a contest of seeing how much each one could get away with. In moments the two men were totally naked. The women withdrew to the shore, each with a prized patch of cloth which they had torn from the two men. Hugh and Clint sunk down into the water and waited.

  "So, what now?" Clint aske
d.

  "I think," Hugh said, "that they want us to bathe."

  The two men stayed in the water for a short while, splashing around while the men, women, children, and dogs on the shore watched them. Finally, the woman who had led them to the river came forward again. She held up two blankets and motioned for the men in the river to come out.

  "Well," Hugh said, "I guess we can't stay in here forever. So much for modesty."

  Amid the open stares of the women, children, and men who were on the shore, the two men moved up and out of the water. They were at first wrapped in blankets, but the two men quickly understood that these were to be used to dry themselves. Then they were given buckskin leggings, breechcloths, and shirts, all new and decorated with beadwork. Hugh could not help but wonder why they were being treated so well. His only knowledge of indians was through what he had read and from seeing the Karankawas. None of that information supported this kind of hospitality.

  Even though most of the men went bare-chested, the indians all seemed to be amazed at Clint's physique. As he was trying to get dressed, they crowded in around him, touching his arms and chest as if to see if he were real. Mostly, it was the women who did this, but some of the men did so as well. They were right to be awed, Hugh thought. He had never seen or known a more finely muscled man than his friend.

  After they had dressed, the two men were taken once more back to the chief's lodge. They were seated by the fire, next to the chief. Another bowl of stewed meat was brought to the old man. Putting his hand into the bowl, the chief rolled the meat around for a moment, looking for the best morsel. Finding what he decided was a good piece, he then offered it to Hugh. Hugh, having already eaten his fill, started to decline, but when he saw the troubled look in the old man's eyes, he quickly accepted the meat. The chief then repeated the process, finding just the right piece to offer to Clint.

  "Don't refuse," Hugh told him. "I think it might be an insult to them."

  "We already ate, once." Clint said. "Are they trying to fatten us up? Maybe they really are Karankawas!"