by Paty Jager
“Why you—” Abernathy reached toward Wade.
“This is no way for two officers to behave.” Colonel Gibbon’s voice rang with reprimand.
Abernathy could have burned holes in Wade’s forehead if he let the man get to him. Instead, Wade saluted Gibbon. “My group is ready to move out.”
Within an hour of the colonel’s order they had supplies and were mounted, heading after the running Indians. The platoon of fifteen men moved out at a steady traveling gait. The Bannock scout Wade brought along discovered where the Nez Perce had stopped. The minimal rings of charred sticks and many small areas of packed dirt proved the Indians spent a brief time here.
While their horses rested, Wade sent the scout to discover which direction the Nez Perce headed next.
Hair on his neck vibrated, giving him the sensation someone watched. Wade scanned the trees and higher elevations with his spy glass. Nothing.
The sensation continued to plague him as they mounted up and followed the Nez Perce’s trail. An eerie impression forced him to turn in his saddle every five minutes. The private next to him started picking up his jitters. He cringed, realizing his nervousness not only made him a threat to his men but had rubbed off on at least one trooper. Not a good attribute for an officer.
Wade mentally flogged himself, straightened in the saddle, and called two men forward. “Drop back and scout our back trail. Make sure there isn’t anyone trailing us.”
The men saluted and disappeared back the way they’d traveled.
“Lieutenant, you think them Injuns is following us?” Chester Trainor, a young private placed in Wade’s troop over a year ago, asked.
“It’s best when following your enemy to make sure you have all sides covered.” Wade stared forward. He didn’t need the man becoming paranoid because of his actions.
“This was my first Injun encounter, sir.”
Wade could sense the man wanted to talk about the skirmish, but he wasn’t in the mood. “You’re bound to see more before we get the Nez Perce onto the reservation.”
“That’s what I don’t get, sir. Why aren’t them Injuns wanting to go to the reservation? I mean it would be better than gettin’ killed.”
He studied the private. The man hadn’t been out west long enough to venture into an ill-run reservation. Wade had firsthand experience while stationed near the Omaha reservation. If the Indian agent wasn’t honest, the Indians didn’t receive their allotted meat and clothing. And the sickness…It riled his gut as much as the last skirmish.
“When we get this campaign over, I’ll send you to a reservation, and then you can tell me what you think.” He spurred his horse into a trot and pulled away from the private.
Since sixteen, he’d witnessed more sorrow and cruel behavior than one person should have to deal with, and little happiness. Over half his lifetime had lacked any joy.
The morose thought hammering at his mind did little to aid him in leading his platoon onward, knowing this assignment also held no joy.
Mita
(3)
Sa-qan followed the dark-haired soldier and the others he commanded. Their path pursued the retreating Nez Perce. She circled in the air ahead and found the small group of wounded she had helped still resting in their copse of trees. Fear the wounded warriors would be found sped her flight. She had to hide the warriors. And hope if the Bannock scout arrived before the dark-haired soldier he didn’t kill them all. Setting the outcome of the encounter on the hopes the dark-haired soldier would save them festered in her chest like maggots on a dead fish. Too many times the so·yá·po had proven they could not be trusted.
She landed out of sight of the injured and changed to mortal form. Hurrying into the camp, she startled the old woman and the warriors regaining strength. One pointed a rifle at her. The tip of the weapon wobbled in his weakened condition.
“There are soldiers coming. The warriors must hide.” She grabbed the rifle aimed at her. The warrior glared at her as she locked elbows with him, drawing him to his feet.
“I will protect you,” he said, shoving at her and reclaiming his weapon.
Warriors were stubborn, but they had not met a stubborn spirit before. “You cannot kill all that are coming. They may not kill the injured children and old men. But they will kill you. Hide!” She slipped her arms through both warriors’ arms, leading them to the far edge of the trees. With quickness and strength neither wounded warrior possessed, she took their weapons and pushed the two warriors toward a pile of bushes. “Crawl in there and do not move or make a sound.”
“Give us our rifles,” the strongest protested.
“No. I will hide the weapons. If we do not fight them they are less likely to hurt us.” She believed the dark-haired man would let them be. The compassion he had shown saving Girl of Many Hearts and the way he offered to help her even though he believed she were not a Nimiipuu fluttered hope in Sa-qan he could be trusted. There were good and bad Nimiipuu. The dark-haired soldier was a good so·yá·po. Her instincts and the rapid beat of her heart sung this to her.
“We had no weapons ready when they slaughtered our women, children, and old people. When the warriors slept.” The warrior attempted to take the weapons from her.
“No, I will not allow you to get yourself killed. The band needs you when you are well.” She ran to the opposite edge of the trees and slid the rifles into an empty log.
Sa-qan returned to the camp, pulling up the blankets the warriors had used and covering the children. “Go about as you were. Do not let the soldiers know we have seen them.” She knelt next to the girl, soothing her forehead, using the touch to slip a small bit of healing power into the child. Not knowing the outcome of the soldiers’ visit, she did not dare use up too much of her txiyak.
The Bannock scout entered the camp. He ran his horse close to the sick and nearly knocked the old woman off her feet. The scout spun his horse and tossed a malicious smile at Sa-qan. Anger at his attempt to harm others burned like pine coals in her stomach.
“Leave!” she shouted.
He forced his horse toward her, sticking out a moccasin-clad foot to kick her.
Sa-qan grabbed a downed limb, jumped to her feet, and swung the limb, knocking the man to the ground. He bound to his feet and lunged. She side-stepped and slammed the stick against his back. The viciousness of her swing astounded her. If she were not saving the lives of Nimiipuu, shame would have bathed her for her actions. She feared the scout more than the soldiers. The Bannock tribe had not been friends of the Nimiipuu for many summers. They wanted the Nimiipuu horses and good grazing land.
Her moment of indecision left her vulnerable. The scout grabbed her from behind, wrapping one arm around her throat while the other secured her middle. She had the strength to dislodge him but to do so would bring suspicion.
The soldiers rode into the area. The dark-haired soldier slid from his horse still in motion, and advanced on them. “Release her!” he ordered, pulling a pistol from his belt and aiming it at the scout’s head.
The arms around her released and shoved her into the soldier. Before her mind caught up, a strong hand held her by an upper arm, and she gazed into the concerned eyes of the dark-haired soldier. Tingles raced up her arm, setting her heart to fluttering.
“Did he harm you?”
His intense gaze and firm, yet gentle, hold on her arm scrambled her mind. Words stuck in her dry throat. She shook her head in slow motion, her gaze riveted on the full line of hair above his mouth. She had never witnessed this so·yá·po trait up close.
“Lieutenant, this looks like wounded being cared for.”
The dark-haired soldier dropped his gloved hand and peered around the small camp.
“So it does.” He returned his attention to her. “Are the rest of your group close by?”
She did not dare let on where the main group could be headed. Instead of answering, she continued to stare as though she did not understand.
“Private Trainor, see that ther
e are proper rations left for these wounded. Private Marks, take half the men and scout around. The rest of you keep that damn Bannock from killing anyone.” The lieutenant grasped her arm and led her away from the others.
Sa-qan did not fear the man. He could not hurt her. Her txiyak made her invincible to harm. The way his touch and concern sparked her body left her mind spinning with interest and dread. She knew he held more kindness than the other soldiers, but the suspicious glare Summer Cloud shot her compelled Sa-qan to struggle against the man’s restraint. It would not do well to have the woman suspect her of consorting with the enemy.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk where we aren’t overheard.” His hold lessened. He continued to lead her away from the others but close enough they could be seen.
He released her and stepped back, leaving a good arm’s length between them. “Now, I’m pretty sure by the flashes of intelligence in your eyes when I talk to you that you understand. I also believe you’re a captive.”
She shook her head. Where had he come up with that?
“You’re not a captive? Then how come you have blonde, near-white hair and eyes yellow as my scarf? I haven’t seen another Indian with that coloring in my years of travel.” His piercing gaze nearly moved her feet back a step.
Sa-qan squared her shoulders and glared back at him. She would not let his concern weaken her. She cleared her throat. The last time she spoke this man’s tongue she had taken over a trapper’s body to save a young Nimiipuu maiden from being attacked by another trapper.
“I am a proud Nimiipuu. I come from a band to the north.”
Wade almost jumped out of his skin hearing the woman speak. Her soft lyrical tone and stressed pronunciation warmed a hidden chunk of ice deep in his heart. A smile ruffled his mustache. The last month he hadn’t had much to smile about, but this woman’s poise and grit along with her angelic voice felt like a gift.
“See, that isn’t so bad. Now, if you are from the north, why are you here? Is your tribe joining with this one? If so, where?” He watched indignation spark in her luminous yellow eyes.
Her hands fisted on her hips. Defiance raised her chin and flashed in her eyes. “You are like all so·yá·po. You know nothing of our people. You only want to kill us because you do not understand us.”
Loose strands of hair wiggled in the breeze, but her body remained unmoving, her eyes blazing, her full lips twisted in disgust.
“I don’t want to kill your people. But the Army has orders to put the Nez Perce on a reservation, and I’m part of the army. When you shoot at me, I’m going to shoot back. It’s nature. We all want to survive.”
Her head tilted slightly to one side and the tight line of her lips relaxed. “Do you fear the Nimiipuu? Is that why the so·yá·po leaders wish to hunt us down and cage us?”
“So-ya-who? No, I don’t fear you.” He didn’t have time to argue the reasons. They each carried their convictions. “I need to know where the rest of the tribe is.”
She folded her arms and stared at him. Her belligerence should’ve made him angry, but it only increased his interest.
“Okay, I see you’re not going to help.” He grasped her arm to lead her back to the camp. The soldiers gathered around their horses watched. Wade released his hold and walked to his horse being held by Private Trainor.
“Did you see to their supplies?” He swung up into the saddle.
“Yes, sir.”
He glanced at Private Marks. “Did you find anyone else?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you happen to find the direction the main group is headed?” His gaze wandered to the young woman. She stiffened at the private’s affirmation.
“You two”—he motioned to the last two men in formation—“ride back and let Howard know we found a group of wounded children and old men and which direction we’re headed.” The two spun their horses and headed back the way they’d traveled.
Wade sought the Bannock scout. He didn’t need the man returning and causing harm to these innocent people. The scout was tucked neatly between two privates. Nodding to the two, Wade raised his arm and ordered, “Move out!” He couldn’t stop his gaze from lingering on the blonde woman. She stood tall and stoic, and her gaze, while not warm and inviting, held less animosity as he rode away.
“Did you learn anything from that light-haired squaw?” Private Marks asked, riding up beside Wade.
He shifted in his saddle and glared at the private. “No, I didn’t learn anything from that light-haired woman.” The most important thing he’d learned from an old Indian at his first western station—the Whiteman’s use of the word squaw angered the Indians. “She speaks English but wasn’t willing to tell me anything.” He had to admire her loyalty though he still found her story hard to swallow. She had to have been captured as a small child and truly believed the Nez Perce were her family. It was the only thing that made sense.
Wade urged his mount into a trot, setting the usual trot/walk gait the cavalry followed. He turned his thoughts to his conversation with the alluring woman. She said little but her actions, dark coloring, white hair, and unique eyes remained vivid in his mind. The warmth of her skin penetrated his gloves as he led her away from the others. Alone with him, her strength never wavered. She had his admiration. He hoped she, and the wounded with her, found a way to avoid Howard and return to the reservation on their own.
His motives were not all gallant. If she returned to the reservation, he could find her and learn more about her.
****
Sa-qan helped the warriors return to the group. Their angry faces and refusal to accept her help proved they would not soon forgive her forcing them to hide. “You would have been taken prisoner or killed had you shown yourselves. Now you can live to help our people.”
She stared the direction the soldiers left. The warriors needed horses to catch up to the band. “Tonight I will find you horses. Tomorrow you will travel around the soldiers who just left and rejoin the band.”
“What about us?” Summer Cloud asked. “Did the hairy-mouth leader not say Cut Arm is coming?”
Sa-qan held back a snicker. Yes, the lieutenant had said the leader of the soldiers was coming. “I will hide you where you will not be found. When you are well, you may either follow the path of the band or return to your homes. The soldiers are hunting for our warriors. They will not come for you at your home.”
“And you? Where are you going?” Summer Cloud stared at her.
“I will continue on to help where I am needed.” Sa-qan spread her hands on the closest warrior’s leg wound, sending healing powers into him. She moved to the other warrior, touching his chest wound with her fingers, sending warm healing deep into his injury. He watched her with wary eyes but soon fell asleep on the bed of blankets.
Sa-qan ignored the old woman’s curious stare and knelt by the children. She used the last of her txiyak to heal them. Her weak body slumped against a tree. She could fight her weariness no longer and slipped into a trance to rebuild her powers and ready her spirit to catch up with the band.
****
Sa-qan took flight long after the sun disappeared. She searched for horses for the warriors. A herd finally appeared. They grazed not far from the lieutenant’s camp. She did not like stealing from him. He had shown compassion for her people, but the warriors needed horses. No others proved close enough to return to the wounded warriors by morning.
Shifting to smoke, she drifted among the animals until she found two swift ponies. She slipped their tethers loose and entered one, coaxing the other to follow. Slow, quiet steps carried them out of sight and hearing of the soldiers. Once she no longer feared detection, she picked up speed and raced back to the camp of the wounded. Out of sight of the camp, she withdrew from the horse and changed to mortal form.
She waited at the edge of the forest allowing the horses to eat and rest until the sun began to rise. The warriors would be well enough to ride. She entered the camp leading t
he horses.
The most skeptical of the warriors jumped to his feet and walked to her. “How did you come to get a soldier’s horse?”
“I found them unattended. Perhaps they ran off during the fighting?” She handed the ropes to the warrior. “Gather food and water and catch up to our people.”
The other warrior stuffed supplies given to them by the soldiers into a leather pouch, and Summer Cloud handed him a water bladder.
“I do not know you, but I believe you are a spirit of the Nimiipuu.” The warrior swung up on the horse and nodded to her.
“Qey∙ci∙yew∙yew, thank you,” the other warrior said, from his horse’s back. They spun the animals and set off at a lope.
Sa-qan stole a moment of satisfaction. She rarely took pride in what she did as a spirit. Pride was a selfish emotion best not heeded. But having someone acknowledge her help after all the generations of selfless attention to the Nimiipuu, she basked in the joy. Her mind snatched onto the pride and elation, dissecting why she now experienced them. Her season upon season as a spirit these emotions never surfaced.
“Why are you frowning?” Summer Cloud asked, stepping next to her.
“I have changed…” Sa-qan walked away from the woman. How was it she felt sorrow for the sick child, elation at the lieutenant’s presence, pride over the warriors’ gratitude? What was happening to her?
“We will stay here two more days before traveling to the reservation. My man and I believe we will be safer at the reservation until Joseph can come and get us and take us back to the Wallowa Country.” Summer Cloud waved a hand toward the old men and children.
“It is best. I will send good wishes to the Creator for your safe travels.” Sa-qan stepped to walk away.
“And you? Where are you going? Back to your family?”
She stopped and stared into the woman’s faded eyes. Summer Cloud’s gaze revealed she suspected powers in Sa-qan.
“I will follow and help the Nimiipuu. It is my gift.”