by Sharon Ihle
"I admit that we did not show them mercy, but the Long Knives brought that on themselves." At his son's raised brow, Gall explained. "Before we knew they were upon us, before we could hide our families, the soldiers came into our camp firing at all who moved. I lost two of my wives and three of my children to their guns before we were able to drive them off."
"Oh, my father," Jacob groaned. "I am sorry."
Gall waved him off. "After that, I fought with a bad heart. I admit this."
"There is no need to explain. I would feel the same." At his own words, a sudden fear shook him. What if Spotted Feather had not spoken the truth. What if she thought to ease his troubled mind with a lie? Jacob quickly looked up at Gall. "What of the crazy one? Did you see her to safety?"
Gall shook his head. "I did not see your woman, but Drooping Belly tells me he watched her attack one of the Long Knives, then steal his horse. He said she rode off screaming at any who would listen. As for her safety, there is no way to know for sure." At Jacob's frown, he managed a rare smile and said, "Do not concern yourself with the safety of your crazy wife. She had the women of our village shaking whenever she passed by, and, I must admit, even a few warriors as well. You would spend your time better worrying about those who might cross her path."
Jacob let out his breath in low chuckle, wincing as the wounds below his ribs complained about the movement. "I believe she has probably survived this war better than I."
"Better than most," Gall agreed.
Now that his initial concern about Dominique was eased, Jacob worked at concentrating on the ruins of his memory. "Spotted Feather also tells me I am among a small number of our people. Where have the rest gone?"
"All councils have split and gone in separate directions. The Long Knives did not learn their lesson at the Greasy Grass. Still they hunt us."
Jacob thought back to the carnage, to his memories of life among the soldiers, and groaned. "Now they will hunt you in bigger numbers than ever. I feel sure they will not stop hunting you until they have avenged the death of their great leader, Custer, and his men."
"Ah," Gall sighed, "then we did battle the Long Hair. None of those who viewed the bodies could be sure. He was among the dead?"
Jacob nodded. "I saw him myself before one of our friends shot me."
Satisfied with that much, Gall nodded, then proclaimed, "The Long Knives will send new leaders to take his place, but we shall battle and subdue them as well. The Hunkpapa will never be ruled by the whites."
"These are foolish goals for any of the Lakota. Where do you think this will all end?" Angered and sickened by the memory of those who'd died, white and red man alike, Jacob struggled to his feet. His legs as weak as those of a newborn fawn, he stood on his own and waited for the pounding in his head to ease.
"My son," Gall said, joining him, "do not try to move. We have until the next moon to rejoin Sitting Bull and move onward toward the grandmother's land. You must rest."
But wobbly as it was, Jacob stood his ground, then took a couple of steps toward the crest of the hill. "It is your intention to go to Canada?" he asked of his father.
"That is where Sitting Bull goes. That is where we will join him."
Jacob looked out at the hills, beyond the forests and to the east. "That may be where you go, but you do not go of your own choice. Still you run. Still your people are afraid."
Gall stepped up beside him, a thousand questions glittering in his eyes. "My people, son? What of our people?"
Jacob turned sad blue eyes on his father. "They are your people, not mine. Go, run to the grandmother's land, but do not count me as one of your warriors."
"Ah, so then it has come to pass. Your heart has returned to the people of your birth. You have become one of them."
"I belong to no one," Jacob said, the force of his words exploding shells of pain in his head. "I have tried to understand both the Lakota and the soldier, tried to find a reason to do battle with either side, but I cannot understand."
"My son," Gall said gently. "You have been ill, your mind is hurt."
"Yes, it is hurt, but it is from the foolishness I have seen all around me, not from this wound. This war has been a terrible thing, can you not see this?" But he wasn't interested in Gall's reply just then. He cared only about the answers his fragile brain had saved and then unraveled for him.
"The Lakota," he went on, "fight for the land they call theirs, for their sense of honor. I see this, I understand this. The Long Knives battle in the name of their government, for the right to take your land as their own, and I think because they wish to gain ultimate power over the earth. I see and almost understand this also. What I cannot see, what I will never understand, is why no one thinks to fight for peace. Why does no one fight for peace?"
Jacob raised his hand to the side of his head, soothed the angry valley the bullet had seared into the side of his head, and waited for the throbbing to ease. At his side, Gall stood, open-mouthed, deep in thought.
Finally after several moments of silence, the chief spoke. "You ask many honorable questions. I do not have the answers you seek. Perhaps after a long winter of councils, we will find some of these answers for you."
Suddenly weary, barely able to keep his eyes open, Jacob rested his hand on Gall's shoulder. "Find the answers, but discover them for the Lakota, not for me. When I am ready to travel, I will go to the east and search for my woman. After that, I cannot be sure where my life will lead me."
Clearly disturbed, Gall gripped Jacob's shoulders. "You plan to ride into the soldiers' fort? Do they know your identity? Do they know yet that you wore the uniform of a soldier but hid the heart of a Lakota warrior? Will they be pleased or angry to see that you live?"
Jacob shrugged, unable to remember at that moment.
Gall persisted. "Do not be foolish, my son. Try to think back to that terrible day. On whose side did you fight the afternoon your life was nearly given up to the Great Spirit?"
Jacob smiled and managed a few last words as a sudden fog enveloped his brain. "I fought on no man's side that day. I battled for only one thing. I was a lonely warrior waging a fight for peace."
Then the fog thickened into a great dark storm cloud. Jacob fell to the ground.
Chapter Twenty-two
October 25, 1876
"Whoa, Sampi, my friend," Jacob said, pulling the big stallion to a halt.
From behind, Peaches ignored the man's command and continued walking until she stood beside the big sorrel. After nudging the rider's thigh, she lifted her head and emitted a shrill whinny.
Laughing, Jacob said, "So you know how close you are to home, is that it?"
Still chuckling, he looked over to the stand of cottonwood trees, to the spot where he'd hastily set up the Sioux warning pole the day he'd kidnapped Dominique. That was so long ago, and yet the memories of her, of her laughter and her touch, seemed fresh and alive within him. If he should find her again, would she accept him as she once had? he wondered again, as he had throughout his long journey. Had she gotten over the loss of her family, been able to forget and forgive the fact he'd been unsuccessful in his quest for a peaceful end to the battle?
Jacob pulled off his buffalo robe and tossed it over near the trees, exposing his cavalry uniform. Then he reached into the pack strapped on Peaches' back, took out his broad-brimmed hat, and carefully positioned it on his head.
The time was near to seek answers to his many questions about Dominique. But first he had to make peace with the army. Jacob kicked Sampi's flanks and tugged on the lead line attached to the mare. In a short time the blockade was in sight. Less than an hour later, Jacob arrived at the outer perimeters of Fort Abraham Lincoln.
As the weary trio approached, a guard called out, "Who goes there? Stop and identify yourself."
"Private Jacob Stoltz, Company C, Seventh Cavalry, reporting, sir."
"Company C? But that's impossible. Company C was with the general at the Little Bighorn, and there were no survivor
s."
"It is a very long story, sir. One I wish to repeat only once. Will you please tell me where I can find Lieutenant Barney Woodhouse? I would like to report to him."
The man continued to stare at Jacob, awestruck, but finally said, "Just ride on up to Officers' Row, over yonder. Captain Woodhouse has the place next door to the schoolmarm's little house at the end. You can't miss it."
"Thank you." Jacob saluted, then continued on his way. When he reached Barney's quarters, he slid down off Sampi and tied him and Peaches to the rail out front. Then, knowing full well his visit might result in an arrest, a court-martial, and even a death sentence, Jacob walked up the stairs and rapped the brass knocker against the wood.
When the door opened, Barney's lean form blocked the entrance. Grinning at the man he hoped he could still call friend, Jacob said, "Private Stoltz reporting, Captain, sir."
Barney gasped, and his eyes bulged. "Stoltz ? Is it really you?"
Jacob removed his hat. "It really is—what's left of me, anyway."
"Oh, damn, Stoltz. Get on in here." Barney hauled him through the doorway, clasping him in a quick bear hug before he closed the door and caught his breath.
"I can't believe this. I mean, I really can't believe you're alive. I was sure, you know, the way you left and all ... and then the battle ... I didn't see how you could possibly have gotten through that mess and damn, Stoltz. You look like hell."
"How nice of you to say so. I am very happy to see you again, too, Barney. Or should I say Captain?"
"Oh, Stoltz," Barney muttered, strangling on a dose of brand-new and very unfamiliar pride. "Get on over to the couch and sit a spell. We got lots of catching up to do."
"Thank you," Jacob said, unable to hide the weariness in his voice. He sank into the cushions slowly, trying to ease the inflammation the long ride had brought to his wounds, then took a deep breath and said, "Why don't we get the military explanations out of the way first? Which officers should I see, and what charges am I to defend? Is there to be a court-martial?"
"For what?" Barney said, wrinkling his nose. "Living through the battle? That's the only explanation anyone's going to be looking for. How in hell did you do it?"
Jacob's gaze narrowed, then became hopeful as he listened to his friend. His voice alive with surprise, he said, "What about my arrest and escape? What about my attack on you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about, Stoltz," Barney muttered, the words short and choppy. "My only memories of the Little Bighorn are brief. The general asked me to guard a prisoner. I don't remember the man's name or his crime. Then the fellow escaped, knocking me out in the process. I have no idea what became of the man after that."
"That's it?" Jacob gasped, incredulous. "You have said nothing more?"
Barney screwed up his features, then shrugged. "That's about the size of it, buddy."
"But why? Why do you do this for me with no explanation? Didn't you wonder why Custer arrested me? Didn't he tell you anything about me?"
"I'm curious," Barney admitted, knowing his best defense of Jacob would be complete ignorance of his deeds. "There's no doubt that I'm curious, Stoltz, but I think it'll be healthier for us both if I don't know any more than I do. I just feel mighty indebted to you, so let's call it even."
Now Jacob's curiosity was piqued, and he screwed up his own features. "I don't understand, my friend. I think I almost killed you. For this, you wish to thank me?"
Barney laughed. "I suppose you could have been a little more gentle, but yes, Stoltz. I do thank you. You saved my life, you know. If I hadn't got stuck watching over you, I'd have died in the battle with the rest of my company. I never would have come back here, married Hazel, and made captain if it hadn't been for you. Thanks, friend."
Jacob accepted his outstretched hand and shook it as swells of emotion crested in his chest. He cleared his throat and managed to say, "I want you to know this much. The only thing I did to anger the general was to try to save him and his men from their fate."
"You don't owe me any explanations, Stoltz. I mean that."
"And I thank you, but I want you to understand. I tried to convince Custer it would be foolish to go on ahead. I scouted for the general. I went into places no other could, and I told him how many warriors he faced. Jacob hung his head and sighed. "He would not believe me. He would not listen. That is why he is dead."
Uncomfortable, vaguely disturbed by some of Jacob's explanations, Barney changed the subject. "That's enough talk of Little Bighorn. It's a closed book as far as I'm concerned. What happened to you? Where've you been all this time?"
Jacob looked up at his friend, twinkles of mischief playing hopscotch in his deep blue eyes. "I have been camping with the Sioux."
"Oh, come on, now, Stoltz. Give me the truth."
"That is the truth, friend. After I escaped from you, I followed the general, but I did not arrive in time to save him. As I walked through the battlefield, a Cheyenne warrior saw me and emptied his rifle into my body. When I awakened from a long and terrifying sleep, I was being cared for by the very Indians the cavalry had sought to kill."
"Damnation," Barney breathed. "Why in hell would they do that?"
Jacob shrugged. "I cannot pretend to know what is in another man's mind, but I like to believe the Lakota are trying to learn and understand the whites. It may be time for us all to try to find a way to live in peace with one another.''
"Sounds like a lot less bloody solution than we've tried so far." Barney stared at his friend for a long moment, then jumped to his feet as if slapped. "I don't know what's wrong with my manners. Here you been riding for days, I suppose, and I ain't even offered you a bite of food or a warm drink. How about some coffee? Hazel will be back soon, so I'll let her feed you. She's got something cooking that'll warm your innards."
Jacob nodded, inhaling the aroma of slowly roasting beef, the clear scent of a woman lingering throughout the house, and his mind returned to an earlier statement Barney had made and the main purpose of his journey. When the new captain returned carrying two cups of steaming coffee, Jacob accepted his, then said, "Thanks, friend. Please tell me about your Hazel. Did I hear you say you were married?"
"Yep. Right after I got back from the Little Bighorn. That sweet gal is the best damn thing that ever happened to me. Better than making captain any day."
Jacob nodded, smiling as he stared into the cup. "And Dominique?" he ventured softly. "Does Hazel keep in touch with her?"
"Keep in touch? Oh, Stoltz, I forgot about you and her.''
Jacob's head snapped up and his brows slammed together. “What? What is it? Has some harm come to Dominique?"
"No, it ain't exactly that." Barney stumbled around, searching for a way to tell his friend, then shook his head and turned his palms up. "I told you once to forget her, to bury her. I don't suppose you took that advice."
"No," Jacob said, his expression stern. "And I'm not going to take it now. What's happened to Dominique? Where can I find her?"
"Aw, hell, Stoltz," he muttered. "Don't you remember that she was, you know, captured? I don't have to remind you of that, do I?"
"No, you do not."
"Well, she come back. Reno's bunch found her at the Little Bighorn, and she come back on the steamer with the wounded. I don't know how to put this, exactly, but she's not the same, if you know what I mean."
Losing patience, sudden concern driving him, Jacob said, "I don't know what you mean. Please tell me. Where is Dominique? What is wrong with her?"
His eyes shadowed, fearful, Barney chanced a look at his friend. "She's here, Stoltz. She didn't go home to Michigan with Mrs. Custer."
"Dominique? Here at Fort Lincoln?" Jacob leapt off the couch, spilling the hot coffee on his trousers. The burning sensation stinging his legs was no competition for his pounding heart, and he went on, oblivious to the discomfort, "Where is she, Barney? Take me to her at once."
"Easy now, Stoltz." Barney stood up, staring at the stains on his frie
nd's pant legs, wondering how he'd been able to stand the pain, and said, "I got to tell you about her, explain that she just ain't the same gal."
Now Jacob's eyes narrowed, but the twinkle in them was no longer mischievous or good-natured. His voice low and dangerous, he said, "I wish to see Dominique and judge this for myself. Take me to her."
Barney's chest flattened as he saw Jacob's expression. "She'll be coming along with Hazel 'fore long. But you got to listen to me before they get here. You got to understand what I'm trying to say." Barney scratched his head, then fiddled with his mustache as he tried to find a delicate way to put it. "For God's sake, man, she was taken in by one of them warriors. Don't you get it? He kept her to himself, you know, like she was his own little toy."