by Paul Henke
It was only after the sun came up and he was warm once more that he could sleep properly for a few hours. He did not feel the different movement of the trees, the slight jerk as he came to a stop on the end of a rope. Nor was he aware of the change of direction as he was pulled gradually to the southern bank.
Something woke him, though he did not know what and he sat up to look across ten yards of water and a length of lariat to see the breeds sitting on their horses, one with the end of the rope around his pommel. Both men were looking directly at Sion, no expression on their faces, their guns laying casually across their laps. Sion felt a bitter frustration having come so far. If he was captured it had been his intention to plunge his knife into his neck rather than be taken alive. He did not have the courage. Instead, Sion prepared to fight.
‘Your death will last forever,’ the leader said, throwing down his rifle and pulling out a knife.
The trees hit the bottom and Sion jumped into the shallow water. He waded ashore and stood with his knife held awkwardly in his hand, his body leaning forward. His opponent suddenly darted forward, his knife sliced through Sion’s forearm and blood oozed through a three inch gash. For the next fifteen minutes that was the way of it. Sion was unable to touch the man while he suffered cut after cut. He was getting dizzy, and his vision was blurring when he stumbled and fell to his hands and knees. The breed moved in slowly and Sion knew it was all over. He found the courage from somewhere and lifted the knife to plunge it into his neck when it was torn from his grasp.
Sion looked up at the man and said: ‘Please . . . kill me.’
A shot rang out and the man’s head disintegrated in blood, skull and gore. Another shot knocked the other man off his horse. Sion turned his head and saw three more bullets pluck at the inert body. He looked back, wiped the sweat from his eyes and could have sworn he saw his father and David running towards him. He thought he saw an Indian walking behind them when he passed out.
BOOK 5
David’s Story
39
We explained to Sion that it was not a fluke we had arrived when we did, though luck got us there in time to save his life.
We knew most of Sion’s story thanks to the incredible powers of Clive. With few errors Clive had told us what had happened by reading the signs, as he explained, both up on the butte and later when we tried to find Sion. Sion was surprised to learn that it was the second week of October, but he did say he thought the leaves on the trees were losing some of their green and he had wondered.
Sion said later he thought he had been hallucinating. He also apologised for his tears but we could understand his reaction. Clive Fleetfoot had some sort of herbal, foul smelling stuff to put on Sion’s cuts which Sion said made him feel cool. We stayed where we had found him for a couple of days telling each other our stories.
A week before he had been due to leave for Harvard we began to keep a watch for them. By the middle of the week Dad had been cursing them and Mam was getting worried. At the weekend Dad had sent a telegram to Harvard explaining that Sion, Bill and Steve would be late. He sent another to Steve’s parents informing them of the situation and that if the boys didn’t appear by Monday he was going to go looking for them.
‘That was when I told those idiots I was working for that I was going with Dad,’ I grinned at Sion. ‘They were glad to see me go and told me that under the circumstances, as they had no idea when I’d be back it was only fair I gave in my notice. I did so, gladly.’ I reached over to the coffee pot and refilled all the mugs.
‘I’ve been dreaming about having coffee to drink,’ said Sion, looking at his mug, ‘but now I’ve got some, I don’t see what I was missing,’ he grimaced.
‘Anyway, on the Tuesday we caught the train for Sioux. It didn’t take us long to learn from the livery man that you hadn’t returned. We asked around town and, who was it Dad? The girl in the eating house?’ Dad nodded. ‘She had overheard you talking and she told us you were going up the river and crossing at O’Toole’s Ferry.’
‘Where?’ Sion asked.
‘Where one of you pushed the mule onto that rickety ferry.’ Sion nodded. ‘The old man told us about it. He also said that it had been so long ago he only remembered you because of the mule. It was while we were there that we met Clive Fleetfoot.’ At the mention of his name Clive gave a big toothless grin, nodded and went back to shredding his chicken, the only way he could eat it.
‘Luckily,’ said Dad, ‘I had brought enough gold with me to bribe an army to look for you.’
‘We decided to stay the night at the crossing and leave the next morning.’
‘You forgot to tell him about Pinker,’ Dad reminded me.
‘Oh yes, him. In Sioux we hired a so-called scout who claimed all sorts of tracking powers and woodcraft knowledge. He turned out to be worse than useless, when Clive came on the scene, so we told him to get lost. In fact, meeting Clive was the best, single bit of luck you can imagine. See, Clive had seen your sign a few weeks back near the Niobrara River. He also knew where the half breeds had taken you. He knew all about them and told us what they wanted you for. You can imagine our reaction. We had a choice to make; either to go back to town and get enough men to get vengeance, or rush like mad after you in the faint hope we would be in time to help. Dad decided on rushing after you. He gave old Clive here a hundred dollars in gold and a promise of another two hundred if we were in time to save any or all of you. Boy, did we ride hard. Clive says the gang are well known amongst the tribes and the outlaws that live further west. We must have been about half way to the butte when we detoured north to a ranch Clive knows and there we changed horses and bought another three. That way we could change mounts when they were beginning to tire . . .’
‘Hang on a minute,’ Sion interrupted. ‘Since when could you ride, Dad?’
‘I needed to ride to help with my electioneering for Congress. Just as well under the circumstances.’
‘Unfortunately, the ranch owner was in the middle of branding and couldn’t spare any men to come with us though he did say if we were too late then he and his men would help to wipe out the gang once and for all. When we got to the butte we went in slow like, spread out and real quiet. It was Clive who saw the buzzards first, flapping around the top. You wouldn’t believe his eye sight Sion, it’s remarkable. Anyway, seeing them we rode straight in. We left the horses at the bottom and climbed the pathway.’ I paused, the horror of what we found washing freshly through my mind. ‘Clive worked out what had happened and what you’ve told us coincides with what he said. Except he couldn’t figure where you had gone. He was adamant that you had gone over the edge. The trouble was we couldn’t see your body from up there. We buried what the buzzards had left of Bill but . . .’
‘But I wouldn’t let him bury the breeds,’ Dad said. ‘They deserve to be picked clean by the buzzards. I only wish I could have got my hands on them before they died.’ Dad’s voice was steady but intense. I knew how he felt. Having been with Dad all the time I hadn’t noticed any change in him, but Sion said he seemed to have aged ten years. Sion pointed out the grey in Dad’s sideburns which I hadn’t noticed before. The going had been rough on both of us but especially for Dad. Though as I told Sion, if anybody had changed, it was him. There was now a hardness, a toughness to him. And I didn’t mean physical toughness either. It was a mental toughness that showed itself in small ways. From the way Dad sometimes looked at him I guessed he saw it too. Even then I knew there was no question of him going to Harvard.
‘We went back down the butte, searched around the bottom, found Paddy and Steve and buried them. We found the man you’d killed. Clive couldn’t see how you had got there but after he explained what he read in the sign it was Dad who suggested you had somehow flown down on a kite. Clive clearly thought Dad was mad and, I must admit, I was pretty sceptical myself. That must have been something. Weren’t you scared?’
Sion thought for a few seconds. ‘I dunno really. I am now I think ab
out it. But I was more scared of being caught.’
I nodded. ‘Most importantly though, we knew you were alive.’
‘What about the horses?’ asked Sion. ‘The ones up on the butte?’
‘The gang had brought them down, hobbled them and left them in the long grass. We cut them loose and scattered them,’ said Dad. ‘One of the men had stayed on the butte for a couple of weeks, injured according to Clive, and then he went to find the other two. In fact we found his body where you shot him. He had some bad burns on his hands and body.’
Sion nodded. ‘I did that when I fired their tents.’
‘Just as well,’ said Dad, ‘otherwise we would never have found you.’
‘That’s right Sion,’ I said. ‘See, it had rained a short while after we left the butte. But then we cut the tracks of the man who’d stayed behind and presumably he was going to a prearranged meeting place with the other two. We realised, or I should say Clive told us, that they couldn’t find you and were still looking.’ I broke off the story to exclaim, ‘You should see him working Sion, he’s incredible! Honestly, I wouldn’t even be able to tell a herd of buffalo had passed while Clive can tell where an ant has peed!’ Clive obviously liked the analogy because he gave a wide grin.
‘We, or again I should say Dad, decided we would keep on their trail in case they led us to you. Trouble was we had more rain and the sign was washed out again. So then Dad decided to search for them and kill them before they got to you.’
‘You know,’ said Sion, ‘I can’t help wondering why they tried so hard and so long. It doesn’t make sense, I could have been anywhere.’
‘We wondered about that too,’ said Dad. ‘Not even Clive could explain. We think that you had become an obsession with them.’
I continued, ‘By accident we came across their sign near the river and then yours. We came hell for leather after you. We saw where you ambushed them and then we followed their tracks. We could see the knife fight but if we had just charged straight in then they might have killed you before we got close enough. Clive told us that the man was only playing with you.’
‘Sorry, son. Perhaps I could have saved you a few of those cuts but Clive was adamant they would not be killing you so easily. It was he who shot the one through the head. He’s got some sort of hollowed ammunition that blows anything apart. David and I shot the other one. And that’s the story. Now all we’ve got to do is get you home to your mother. She’s probably out of her mind with worry. We need a telegraph office as soon as possible.’
There was a pause and then Dad said, ‘Son, I’m sorry about Bill and the others. It must have been a hell of a thing to go through.’
Sion nodded slowly. About the only part of Sion that wasn’t cut was his face. His arms, hands, chest and back had been sliced. The cuts were not very deep nor long but there were so many of them he had lost a lot of blood. When we moved Sion complained that they were beginning to itch like mad. A good sign according to Clive. He accompanied us back to O’Toole’s Ferry but left us there before we crossed.
‘With three hundred dollars gold I rich man,’ he said. ‘I go live with my wives and have plenty kids. No more have to work.’
‘Just make sure no robbing white man comes and steals it from you,’ Dad warned with a grin.
We sent a telegram from Sioux City and arrived back in St Louis on the 22 October. There were tears from Mam when we got off the train and a wooden smile from Sion. He left it to me and Dad to tell her what had happened. He had been okay while we were in the outback and even in the hotel in Sioux City. But now the nightmares started and he would wake up in the middle of the night screaming, or yelling Bill’s name and sometimes Paddy’s or Steve’s. It was Mam who helped him the most. She understood that he should not keep it all bottled up. It was only when he woke in the nights that he would open up and then she would sit with him for as long as he wanted, talking. Afterwards he would go back to sleep and then get up at all times of the day. He spent a lot of time with the horse he had escaped on which we had found further along the river bank after we found Sion. He would talk to that horse for hours.
One day Mam told me to get rid of the horse before Sion came down. I sold it to a farmer I met in town and returned to the house worried how Sion would react. Mam and he were in the middle of a yelling match in which she screamed as loud as he did. Finally he accepted that the horse had to go. After that his nightmares became less and less frequent until they all but disappeared.
One thing Dad had insisted upon, no mention was to be made of the others being tortured. When their families came, Sion had a story to tell of how their sons had died killing some of the gang. It was no consolation to Steve’s parents but it seemed to help Paddy’s a little. They wanted to know how Sion had survived and their boys had not. Sion just shrugged and said it was luck. With Dad’s assurances that the boys had received a Christian burial they returned home. Once that ordeal was over there was more chance for Sion to recover, but for all that he stayed changed. He had a restlessness about him which Dad and Sonny began channelling into the business.
I was also working for Dad now, giving legal advice when he wanted it, though I suspected he had already spoken to John Driscole. Dad was more and more involved with matters of state and was having to leave the business to Sonny. Sion began to work all sorts of crazy hours, reading old files, pouring over figures and making financial calculations. One day he rode out of town leaving a note to say he would be back in a week. In fact he was away ten days. When he returned he brought completed plans to expand into three other towns simultaneously. Realising work was the best therapy for him, Dad gave his approval provided Sion and I entered into the partnership using the money we still had from our inheritance from Uncle James. Sonny was given a ten percent stake and we had fifteen percent each, leaving control with Dad. As soon as the partnership was formalised Sion was off again. It was that spring when I became thoroughly discontented. The year was 1904.
***
I couldn’t settle down and I couldn’t get enthusiastic about work. I knew that both my family and Gunhild’s were waiting for me to make an honest woman of her but I didn’t want to. It was not that I did not love her, because I did, madly. It was not that we had any rows or anything like that, in fact, far from it. Oh, we used to argue about religion and a bit of politics but really we were as happy together as any two people could be. I just had to get away and do my own thing for a while. That was all there was to it. Since I could remember, I had worked hard to pass exams and get on. I had done all the right things, now I wanted to do what I wanted to do.
It was only fair that I told Gunhild first. It was a Saturday when I went over to her parent’s house for dinner. Usually, I stayed the night, because it was such a long ride home, sharing a room with one of her brothers. After dinner, as we often did, we went for a walk along the lane. It was cold on that last day of March and she had a shawl around her shoulders.
‘Gunhild, I er, I want to tell you something.’ ‘And what might that be? Let me guess. It can only be one of two things. The first is to ask me to marry you, the second is that you’re going away for a while. And if it was the former, knowing you, you would have taken me to Joseph’s, and dined me royally and then proposed. Therefore, I suppose you want to tell me that you’re going away.’
I put my arms around her shoulders and drew her to me. ‘It won’t be for long. Six months at the most. I just need to go and do something before I settle down.’
She nodded. The moon shone down on her upturned face and I could see the tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. I kissed her gently and then more passionately. After a few moments she broke away, took my hand and led me back to the barn. We made love. It was a while afterwards she said in a matter of fact voice: ‘I think you’d better go now. When are you leaving?’
‘Soon. I’m taking a boat to New Orleans. After that I don’t know where I’ll go. South America perhaps.’
We stood close tog
ether and she suddenly clutched me tightly. After a few seconds she pushed me away from her and ran to the house. I stood there like an idiot, not knowing what to do. When the door closed behind her I got my horse and started home.
Telling Mam and Dad was just as bad.
‘Dave,’ said Dad, ‘with all my work in Government I have less and less time to devote to the business. With the expansion you’re needed here more than ever. Sion is young and headstrong. You’re needed to keep him on the straight and narrow. And with your training and knowledge you’ll be invaluable.’
I shook my head obstinately.
‘Please, Dave, reconsider,’ said Mam. ‘What about Gunhild? What about all the education you’ve had? All the . . .’ she trailed off.
‘Look, Mam don’t tell me about the sacrifices you and Dad made in Wales. We know, we remember and we’re grateful. But that doesn’t leave us in your debt for life does it? Or does it? Is that what you think?’ I asked more harshly than I intended.
‘Of course it doesn’t,’ said Dad, equally harshly, ‘and nobody has ever suggested it. You’ve both been brought up to be your own men without any obligation to us.’
‘Christ, Dad, anybody would think I was going forever or something. All I want is to go and do what I want to do, as I keep saying, for six months or so. Is that so unreasonable?’ When they hesitated I continued. ‘I remember Wales vividly. I remember what it was like and I know how far you’ve brought us from those days. But did you do it so that Sion and I would have to be slaves to work and money? Or was it in part because it would give us a freedom of choice? Please, it’s important to me to go away for a while.’