Cheyenne Song

by Georgina Gentry

  “You think I don’t know that?” His temper flared as he confronted her. “They’ll get plenty of rest if the army catches us and throws us all in prison.”

  He strode over to his paint horse, led it to her. “This whole ordeal may end at Dodge City. The Arkansas River is there, and our scouts tell us it’s running at almost flood stage. There’s also train tracks. The telegraph can bring hundreds of soldiers on that train within hours.”

  Someone at the front of the column yelled a signal, and the people got to their feet and began to move forward again; some walking, some riding. As always, she noted, the dog soldiers were waiting to ride at the end of the column so as to protect the retreat, if need be.

  Two Arrows mounted up and held out his hand. She hesitated, knowing that she was putting even more distance between her and her rescuers if she cooperated.

  “Do you want to walk again as you did that first day?”

  “Mercy, no.” She put her hand in his big one, looking up at him with moist, half-open lips.

  “Then come on, Proud One.” He pulled her up on the horse behind him. Could she bribe him with her body to let her escape when they rode close to Dodge City? Thinking that, she put her hand on his thigh and leaned into his back, pressing her breasts against him as she slipped both arms around his waist. She felt him go tense, and then he reached down almost absently and patted her hand. His touch was so gentle, it surprised her.

  He nudged his paint horse and they swung into the end of the moving column now, bringing up the rear with Tangle Hair and the other dog soldiers.

  “This is an impossible undertaking,” Glory muttered. “The army is going to catch you anytime.”

  He laughed, and she liked the deep, rich sound of his voice. “The army had better hurry! We never expected to make it this far with all those hundreds of soldiers hoping to catch us.”

  “But they will,” she insisted.

  “Glory, as starved and tired as we all are, it’s what whites would call a miracle that we’ve made it this far. Anything beats dying by inches back on that reservation.”

  She could sympathize with their desperation, even if I am a prisoner, Glory thought. She turned her head, laid her face against his broad back, and watched the landscape. As they moved farther north, the prairie was turning into sand hills. Many of the trees they passed now had already lost their leaves. This was madness, she thought. The Cheyenne people were dying along with their few horses every day. It was unthinkable that they might walk all the way to Montana with winter coming on. Such a brave, resilient people. She didn’t want to admire them, but it was difficult not to.

  Two Arrows was only too conscious of the softness of the woman pressing against his back. He should be thinking of his people and his next action, but all he was conscious of was the feel of Glory’s breasts against him, the warmth of her small arms around his waist. He ought to take this woman, satisfy the hunger that had been building in him since the very first time he had seen her. It would be a good joke on the rich lieutenant to return his woman with her belly swollen big with Two Arrows’s son. And then he faced the truth; he did not want to return her at all, not even when her use as a hostage was ended. He wanted her to warm his blankets forever. Of course, that was impossible. How she would laugh if she knew that!

  In the late afternoon, way up ahead, he saw an old woman stumble and fall by the trail. The column kept moving, passing her by. Nothing must delay them; to do so increased the threat of the soldiers catching them and then all might die.

  “Two Arrows,” Glory protested as they rode abreast of the old woman, “can’t we do something? We can’t just leave her.”

  He didn’t want to leave the woman, either, but it was evident the old one was dying anyway, and the march could not be delayed. “It is the way of things, Proud One. She would be the first to protest us stopping the people, knowing we have to stay ahead of the soldiers.”

  “No, we must help her!”

  He reined in and dismounted, looking up at Glory with new appreciation. “You have a good heart; as good as any Cheyenne girl. All right, I’ll see what we can do.” He took his canteen from the saddle, motioned the others to keep riding, then knelt next to the old woman. “Can you not make it a few more miles, Grandmother? Then we will eat and rest.”

  The old one reached one trembling hand to place on his arm. “My time is near; I know. I will not delay the people.”

  He held the canteen to her lips, and she drank eagerly. “Perhaps it is not your time yet. Here, you can ride my horse a while. I can walk.”

  “It is not fitting that a great warrior such as Two Arrows walk while I ride.”

  A great warrior. He had won the respect he had hungered for. “Let me decide what is fitting, Grandmother.”

  “Will the white girl mind?” She looked up at him, wrinkled and frail as a brown leaf whirling in the autumn wind.

  “She is of good heart, old one, she will not mind.” He helped the old woman to her feet and assisted her onto the paint. Glory held the old woman before her.

  Two Arrows grinned up at Glory and turned back onto the trail, leading the horse. His heart felt good now; he had not wanted to leave the old woman behind.

  Finally, in late afternoon, the straggly column stopped to rest in the lee of some low sand hills that shielded them from the wind. Two Arrows assisted Glory and the old woman down from the horse. “If we can get some food in her, it might strengthen her so that she can keep going.”

  “I’ll give her my share,” Glory said softly.

  “No, Proud One, I’ll give her my share.”

  The old one looked up at Glory, smiling with only a few teeth. “Thank you. You are surely one of the people and worthy to be this warrior’s woman. Give him strong sons to make him proud,” she said in her native language.

  “What did she say?” Glory asked.

  She would scoff or even laugh, probably, if he told her what the old woman’s words meant. “She says to thank you for your kindness.”

  Glory patted the old woman’s arm. “Tell her I will make broth for her while we rest. How long will we be here?”

  Two Arrows’s face turned grim. “We are only a few miles from Dodge City, but we can’t risk passing near it in daylight. Some lawman or shopkeeper might see the dust rising from our horses and travois. We must wait for dark.”

  At least she could rest until then, Glory thought gratefully as she busied herself with the broth. All the time she labored, she tried to come up with an escape plan when they neared Dodge City.

  Only now did Glory realize how frail and weak the old woman was and wondered how she had made it this far. Sheer willpower, she thought with respect, sheer willpower; just like most of the others. Even as the old woman enjoyed the broth and smiled up at her, she seemed weaker.

  Glory sought out Two Arrows. “I don’t think the old one will make it.”

  “I know, Glory, but we have done what we could for her.”

  Tears came to her eyes. “It is shameful that the army chases old women and children this way.”

  “We’re savages, remember?” He put his hand on her shoulder, and she didn’t pull away. “The army isn’t worried about anything but keeping us on that reservation.”

  The old woman died just before dark; almost as if she knew that she was delaying her people and knowing they must move on. Glory did the best she could to prepare her for burial, but the Indians could not spare a blanket to wrap the body in with the cold winter coming. Two Arrows placed the thin, frail body in a tree because there was no time to prepare a burial platform.

  Glory swallowed hard. “It doesn’t seem fair that she walked so far and will be left out here, many miles from anything.”

  “She was not the first, and she won’t be the last,” he said, his face set, betraying no emotion. “All we want is to be allowed to return to our own country and live as we have always done, free as the great lobo wolf.”

  It was getting more and more diffic
ult to think of these people as the enemy. “When I get back,” Glory said, “I’m going to tell the whites how it was on this trip, how brave your people were. If the American people knew how the Indians have been mistreated—”

  “Do you think they would care?” Two Arrows’s voice was full of irony as he mounted up.

  “Many would,” Glory said. “They just don’t know, but I promise I will tell them.”

  He smiled as he offered her his hand. “Is some of that sympathy for me?”

  “Not you, you—you renegade kidnapper! You, I hope they hang!”

  “They’ll have to catch me first.” He lifted her up on his horse behind him.

  The Cheyenne started off again in the darkness.

  “How close will we pass to Dodge City?”

  Two Arrows said over his shoulder, “A couple of miles, maybe less. We are trying to time our passing very late, when most of the townspeople are asleep. There’ll be a railroad to deal with and also the river.”

  Dull Knife and Little Wolf rode back to talk to Two Arrows. She couldn’t understand what was being said, but there was evidently some disagreement. After a few minutes, the two galloped back to the head of the column.

  “What is happening?” she asked.

  Two Arrows shrugged. “Nothing to concern you. They are in disagreement as to which direction to take when we reach Nebraska.”

  “Are these men insane?” Glory asked. “They’re talking about a decision to be made hundreds of miles ahead of us? The army will never let them get that far!”

  “They never thought we’d get this far, remember?” He sounded preoccupied and worried. No wonder. This getting past Dodge City without being seen and captured was an impossible task. But then, the Cheyenne had been doing the impossible ever since they had fled the Indian Territory and outwitted the soldiers these last few days.

  However, weather and time were working against these brave people. Soon, snow would come swirling around the exhausted marchers and most of the horses were wearing out and there was always a shortage of food and weapons. Glory didn’t intend to be around long enough to see the defeat and capture of these valiant people. Somehow, she was going to escape, but how?

  Dodge City. There’d be lawmen, cowboys, and soldiers in town who’d help her if she could only give Two Arrows the slip and gallop to help. There’d also be a telegraph where she could wire David that she was free and unharmed. The thought of David didn’t thrill her as it might have once.

  Yes, this crossing near the town was going to be a big responsibility for Two Arrows. He might be distracted enough that she could slip away. By the time she was missed, she might be so close to Dodge City that the Indians would be unwilling to try to recapture her for fear of being seen.

  Several hours passed, and then she saw the dim outline of buildings against the night sky, a few lights burning in the town. This might be her last chance to escape.

  Two Arrows reined in and sent runners along the column when he saw the lights of Dodge City to the east. “Tell everyone to keep silent. We want no sound that might start dogs barking in that town that will wake a curious citizen. Tell mothers to keep their babies quiet if they have to put their hands over their mouths. Take anything that jingles off bridles or travoises.”

  Broken Blade sneered. “You are too cautious! I don’t fear the whites.”

  “Then you are a fool,” Two Arrows declared. “I was at Sand Creek and again at the Washita when Yellowhair attacked. I know better than you what the whites might do. No doubt, the local citizens of Dodge are already planning a display of our scalps in town like Colonel Chivington and his men did after Sand Creek.”

  Glory listened to the discussion, understanding only the hostility between the men. Broken Blade looked at her a long moment and smiled, telling her with his eyes what he would like to do to her. She snuggled closer to Two Arrows’s broad back, knowing he would protect her.

  Protect her? Was she out of her mind? In only a few minutes, she was going to try to outwit this scout and get away on his horse. If he caught her, there was no telling what he might do.

  Broken Blade rode away, and the Indians moved forward through the night. Glory’s heart began to beat faster, and she trembled, wondering if she had the nerve and the luck to hit Two Arrows across the back of the head, push the unconscious man from his horse, and take off at a gallop? Then she remembered she didn’t have anything to hit him with. Since she had her arms around his waist, she might manage to get his big knife from his waistband, but somehow, she couldn’t quite see herself stabbing him. She told herself it was because he would wrestle the knife away from her before she could use it anyway. No, she’d just have to think of another plan.

  The three hundred rode as silent as ghosts, ever mindful of the few lights to the east of them. Glory picked up the terrible tension in the air and held her breath, watching the silent, dark outline of the buildings as they rode closer. As outnumbered as they were, and with few weapons, the Cheyenne wanted to choose the time and place of their battles, and Dodge City wasn’t it; not when the telegraph could bring hundreds more soldiers to the area in hours.

  They were approaching the railroad, silver tracks gleaming in the moonlight. On this side of the tracks, Glory noticed several white hills shining in the darkness. “Snowy hills in the middle of Kansas?”

  Two Arrows shook his head and his voice was grim. “Take a good look, Proud One, and know why my people fight!”

  What was he so angry about? Glory stared at the white hills. “Why, they’re made of—of—”

  “Bones,” his voice was bitter. “Now that they have slaughtered all the buffalo, the whites make a profit by gathering up the bones and shipping them back East for fertilizer. In the meantime, Indians starve for meat.”

  “Oh, my God!” She was horrified at the huge piles of bones looming on the horizon, thinking how many animals must have been slaughtered to make such white mountains.

  “The buffalo were once like a great brown sea,” Two Arrows said somberly. “Now they are gone. To destroy the buffalo is to destroy the tribes.”

  Somewhere in the distance, the Cheyenne’s medicine wolf howled in a particularly haunting way, and the sound echoed and reechoed through the darkness. Two Arrows’s big body went tense. “He warns us. Some danger—”

  Abruptly, a sound pierced the still night, a long drawn-out whistle from the west.

  “A train!” Glory said. “A train’s coming into Dodge.”

  Two Arrows cursed under his breath as he turned in his saddle, waving to the people. “Get down! Hide yourselves! A train is coming!”

  There was a murmur of terrified confusion and panic as hundreds of people dismounted. “The horses, Two Arrows, what about the horses?”

  “Get the bone piles between you and the railroad! Get the horses to lie down if you can! Pass the word!”

  A buzz ran through the column as the train whistled again, loud and long. Now they could see it chugging through the night from the west, its one bright yellow eye cutting through the darkness.

  Around them, all was confusion as people scrambled to flatten themselves against the ground.

  It was going to be difficult for several hundred people and horses to keep from being seen on this bright moonlit night if anyone looked out the train windows, Glory thought. There might be soldiers coming in on that train to Dodge. She might be rescued.

  “Everyone get down!” Two Arrows yelled again and gestured.

  Glory began to make her plans as the Indians rushed to lie flat, force the horses to the prairie. They were like frightened quail, she thought sympathetically, hiding against the ground, hoping the hunters passed on by. Two Arrows slid off the paint horse, yelling directions to the others. Glory peered around as the people flattened themselves into shadows. The dog soldier was everywhere, yelling orders. If he were spotted, he’d be easy to pick off with a good rifle. This was a brave man, Glory thought with admiration in spite of herself. He cared about h
is people.

  In the meantime, Glory noticed, he seemed to have forgotten her completely. The train whistled again, long and lonesome, echoing across the prairie. In the distance, she could see its yellow eye growing larger and larger as it clattered along the steel rails.

  Glory looked around. No one was paying the slightest bit of attention to her. She grabbed up the reins. When the train was abreast of her, she intended to whip up the horse to a gallop, ride alongside the train until someone in the crew saw her and yelled for the engineer to stop. She wouldn’t tell the crew about the Cheyenne scattered about on the surrounding prairie, she would simply scramble aboard and ask the train to speed up before the startled Two Arrows could react.

  The train whistled again, louder as it neared, the headlight lighting up the track before it. She could smell the smoke from its firebox, almost taste the cinders and ashes that blew on the wind. With her eyes, Glory measured the distance from here to the tracks. With any luck, she’d—

  “Get down, Glory!” Before she could move, Two Arrows reached up, caught her hand, pulled her from the horse. Then he turned his attention to giving the signal for the well-trained horse to go to its knees.

  What to do? Maybe she could flag the train. As it approached, engine chugging, throwing sparks from underneath, steam boiling from its smokestack, Glory hesitated, took one step forward even as Two Arrows reached up, caught her arm, yanked her to the ground. “Oh, no, you don’t!”

  “Damn you! Let me go!” She struggled to break away and run, he fought to keep her on the grass.

  Low scudding clouds covered the moon suddenly, throwing long dark shadows from the bone piles across the prairie; shadows that hid the people cowering against the ground, hid the pair fighting and rolling as the train clattered past. Golden light streamed from its windows, rows of soldiers inside stared out at the night. She fought to escape Two Arrows, hoping to stand up, catch the attention of the train!

  They rolled over and over, she fighting and scratching to scramble to her feet, he holding her down with the weight of his big body. As they fought, he ended up half on top of her and between her thighs.