Two Moon had never been overly fond of the dark, chisel-faced white man. He had tolerated him because he was useful, but he had never counted him as a friend and he had never known Black Hat to express such friendship for the Cheyenne people. There had to be a reason for this recent flood of goodwill. “What is it you want from me?” he asked bluntly.
“Why, nothin’. I don’t want nothin’. I just come to visit for a spell.” Pike knew how contemptuous the Cheyennes were of cowardice and he was afraid that if he told Two Moon he just felt safer with a few hundred armed Cheyenne warriors around him, the chief would refuse his hospitality. Pike was pretty sure he had successfully lost Jason Coles but he didn’t see any percentage in taking a chance. After all, there were more than a few tales floating around the territory of the tall scout’s ability to track. He was determined he could take care of Coles but he wanted it to be on his terms.
When Black Hat maintained that a visit was all he desired, Two Moon shrugged and told him he was welcome to camp with them but he was not invited to share his tipi. This was all right with Pike. He would set up his own camp, smack in the middle of the Cheyenne camp, and stay a few days—a week, maybe—until he felt he wasn’t going to get bushwhacked the minute he rode out of the village. If Coles was tracking him, he wasn’t likely to risk getting caught by Two Moon’s warriors.
Pike set up his lean-to of animal hides and hobbled his horses nearby. To show Two Moon his heart was in the right place, he gave most of the food stores he had stolen from the Dawson brothers to the chief’s wife for a celebratory feast. He didn’t like to give anything away as a rule, but he deemed it a necessary thing to do to try to sweeten his image with the Cheyennes. He was gratified to note a lessening of the cold and sometimes hostile glances he received from many of the warriors in the village, and he even noticed an isolated smile or two. That set Pike’s mind to turning. Maybe he could get real friendly with some of the warriors and convince them that Two Moon should spend more time driving the miners out of the Black Hills. He could use some more gold dust—a man never had enough gold to do him and it was Pike’s plan to acquire enough to ensure him a life of luxury in the California territory, or maybe Oregon. His unique method of “mining” had been quite lucrative when he was still on a friendly basis with Crooked Leg and his Arapahos—that is, when he could convince the ignorant savages to give him the yellow dust they found in the miners’ shacks. Even after he passionately pleaded the importance of the seemingly worthless dirt, half of the time the savages emptied the pouches out in the streams. Pike liked it best when he rode with the Indians and served as a decoy to bring the unsuspecting miners out in the open, where they could be set upon and slaughtered. He enjoyed the killing but, more important, he was there to search for the precious dust himself. He knew where to look for it, beneath the floorboards of the cabin—if there was a floor—or buried beneath the bank of the streams, or, sometimes, close to the place the miners had designated as their toilet area. Wherever it was hidden, if it was there, Pike usually found it. As valuable as gold was, it was even more coveted when it had been someone else’s labor that produced it. When he reflected on his relationship with the various bands of Sioux, Cheyenne, and Arapaho, he was puzzled by the fact that he was no longer welcome in many of their camps. The damn savages, he thought, they get to thinking they’s better than white men. Well, to hell with ’em. A few more pouches the size of the two I’ve already got and I’ll shake the dust of this territory off my feet for good.
* * *
Jason took his glass from his saddlebag and steadied it on his forearm as he trained it on the Indian camp on the far side of the river. Cheyenne, he thought. It’s Two Moon’s camp, all right. The camp had been moved about seven miles upriver since he had first visited it when returning the sacred arrows. It didn’t take long to determine the location of the man he had tracked over the past several days. Pike had set up a rough lean-to, using skins as a shelter, and he had positioned it as close to the center of the village as he could. In fact, if Jason’s memory served him, the tipi closest to the lean-to was that of Two Moon’s. Looks like he intends to set up a permanent camp, he thought. After another minute or two, scanning the village from north to south, he replaced the glass in its case and eased back down from the ridge he had been lying on.
When he reached the bottom of the coulee where his horse was waiting, he sat down to think things over. The bastard is settled in the middle of all those Cheyennes like a tick on a shaggy dog, he told himself. He could only speculate on what influence Pike had on his Cheyenne hosts. He might be in real tight with them and, if that was the case, he could have Jason shot on sight. Jason thought about the location of Pike’s lean-to, close to Two Moon’s lodge. Even at night it would be short odds for a man, even one of Jason’s skills, to make his way into that camp without being detected. Yeah, Pike was as safe as if he was in jail.
Although he gave thought to these considerations, there was never any concession to his own safety. He had long since decided that this promise he had made to himself and Abby would more than likely be the end of him. His concern was that he must keep that promise and stay alive until he saw Pike dead. From the look of it, Pike had decided his life might be in danger so he intended to stay within the safety of the Cheyenne village. He gave it more thought but could not come up with any plan that would ferret Pike away from the protection of his hosts. He would have to take his chances on the disposition of the Cheyenne camp and ride in as boldly as you please, hoping he could count on Two Moon’s sense of honor. It might work, if some trigger-happy buck didn’t take a shot at him as soon as he crossed the river.
* * *
Big Turtle squinted his eyes against the glare of the early-rising sun. He shaded his forehead with his hand as he stared at the river. A moment earlier, when he had glanced that way, there was nothing on the far bank. Now, a solitary figure seemed to have materialized from nothing. At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him but, after staring as well as he could into the sun, he could see that it was a man on a horse and he was almost across to the near bank now. A lone rider entering the camp was nothing out of the ordinary, but Big Turtle was curious to see who might be visiting at this early hour. A minute more and he was startled to discover the visitor to be a white man. This was unusual—first Black Hat and then this man only a day later. He went to Two Moon’s lodge to alert his chief.
Two Moon studied the rider now walking his pony past the outer ring of tipis. Something looked familiar about the tall scout on the paint pony. He had visited his camp before, but that time he had ridden a spotted horse like the mounts bred by the Nez Perces. By this time, the visitor had been spotted by a few more of the early risers in the camp and a small gathering of women and warriors joined Two Moon and Big Turtle. Some of the men ran back to their lodges and returned with their weapons.
As Jason neared the center of the village, more and more of the people became aware of the white man in their midst and soon shouts of alarm rang out and the gathering around Two Moon increased to a crowd of many curious and some angry Indians. A solitary warwhoop split the morning air and a young warrior raised his war axe. Two Moon stayed him with a motion of his hand and the rider was permitted to approach unmolested.
Aroused from his sleep by the noise from the rapidly building crowd, Jack Pike stuck his nose out of his blankets to see what had caused the fuss. What he saw froze the blood in his veins. He had never had the misfortune to meet Jason Coles face to face but he knew instantly who the tall scout was, sitting easy and without display of emotion in the saddle. His next reaction was without conscious thought, born out of a natural instinct to survive. He snatched up his rifle and lurched, almost stumbling as he did, into the crowd, pushing and shoving his way through in an effort to get a clear view of the rider. The crack of the rifle split the early-morning air like a bolt of lightning, sending the crowd of people into a frantic scramble of confusion. The bullet whistled harmlessly by Jas
on’s head, Pike having been jostled by a woman as he tried to aim. Jason leaped from the paint, his rifle in hand, and was almost at Pike’s throat before Two Moon shouted for him to stop and three warriors set upon him. Pike, at first terrified by the spectre of an enraged Jason Coles charging him, fell back a few steps, his eyes wide with fright. When Jason was forcibly subdued by the three Cheyenne warriors, Pike recovered his courage and raised his rifle again to complete the assassination. Before he could pull the trigger, Big Turtle grabbed the barrel of his rifle and the second shot was spent in the air. Two Moon immediately ordered Pike held and his rifle taken away.
After Two Moon ordered Jason disarmed and brought before him, he directed two warriors to watch Pike. Two Moon looked long and hard at the white scout before speaking. “This is the second time you have risked your scalp by riding into my camp alone.”
“I came in peace the first time, to bring the arrows back for my blood brother, Talking Owl. I was glad to bring the sacred arrows back where they belonged. This time I come on a different matter, to right a wrong that has been done.”
“I see. And what is this wrong that is so important that you risk your scalp to come here?” Two Moon was favorably impressed by the white scout the first time he had come to the village. He believed him to be a man of courage and integrity. He had seen it in his eyes and now, listening to Jason conversing with him easily and fluently in the Cheyenne tongue, he was even more inclined to believe the scout did not deal in deceit.
“I came here to rid your camp of a murdering coward.” He nodded toward Pike. “He is a back-stabbing butcher of women and he dishonors the name of Two Moon, and all Cheyennes, by hiding away in your village.”
Two Moon did not answer right away but looked first at one white man and then the other. He did not doubt that Jason might be telling the truth. One look at Black Hat’s scowling face told him Jason’s charges were most likely true. “Are you asking that I permit you to kill this man? He has done no wrong to my people that I am aware of. He has traded with us, brought us guns and bullets. It would not be right to let you kill him.”
Pike could hold his tongue no longer. “He’s the one needs killing, Chief. You’re right, I’m a friend of your people. Jason Coles has kilt more Cheyennes and Sioux than a regiment of cavalry. I say kill him right now! Tell your boys to turn me loose and I’ll kill him for you!”
Two Moon fixed his gaze on Black Hat for what seemed a long time, considering the accusations just made. He decided at that moment that he did not like Black Hat. The man had the look of a coyote about him. He was about to speak when a warrior stepped up behind him and whispered something in his ear. His expression immediately changed from one of patience to one of grave concern. He turned back to Jason.
“This pony you ride, with the dark mask around his eyes, this was Yellow Hawk’s pony. Yellow Hawk’s body was found to the north of here on this very river. His was not the only body. There were two more of my warriors found dead also—Hungry Wolf and Walks With Limp. They rode with nine other warriors, all brave fighters. Eight of them were found a little farther up the river. Lame Otter was never heard from again.” Two Moon’s normally bland features were now alive with the anger he felt. “How do you come by Yellow Hawk’s pony? You must have been with the men who killed my warriors.” His unblinking stare demanded an answer.
Pike’s face lit up with this twist of events. “See, Two Moon! I told you he’s your enemy! Let me kill him.”
Jason had remained calm while Two Moon spoke. He did not strain against the hands that held his arms. He looked at Pike with cool, hard contempt for a moment before turning back to Two Moon. “If a man shoots your horse, is it not fair to take his horse? If a man ambushes you and tries to kill you, do you not defend yourself?” Jason spoke calmly and with a softness that captured the attention of the people gathered around him. “I do not deny killing those warriors who attacked me as I was peacefully leaving Sitting Bull’s camp. I and two others—one the innocent woman this dog murdered,” he said as he motioned toward Pike again, “were merely on our way to Fort Lincoln.” He shook his head from side to side. “We meant no harm to your people. The scar-faced warrior—the one who tried to kill me when I left your camp before—he ambushed us. I had no choice but to kill him. You would have done the same.” He glared at Pike again. “I killed only to defend myself, not like a skulking coyote like this filth does.”
Two Moon had to consider Jason’s words. It was true that Hungry Wolf had kindled a hot hatred for the white scout and had talked a great deal about his intent to have Coles’s scalp on his lance. But there were others who rode with Hungry Wolf, good men, brave warriors. If what the white scout said was true, and he was inclined to believe that it was, then Coles himself had killed a dozen of his fighting men. This was not something that could be forgiven, even if he was the one who was set upon. He decided the matter important enough to discuss in council with the elders of the village.
“Tie them both, hands and feet; I will talk with the elders on this matter.” He turned and walked to his lodge, followed by eight of the older men of the village. Jason and Pike were led off to a clump of trees by the river and bound securely to separate cottonwoods. Jason did not resist. It would have been to little avail amidst the throng of Cheyenne braves. There was a calm about him that was almost peaceful. He had determined before entering the hostile camp that his fate was already decided, and it was his choice to walk this path. So he awaited the decision of the council without fear and, if the chance came to free himself, he would not attempt to escape. To kill Pike would be his only thought. He gazed over at the murdering coward as two warriors bound him to the tree. Pike did not go quietly to await his fate. He complained and argued, protesting that he was the Cheyennes’ friend. When his complaining was ignored, his tone changed to a whine of protest. It was plain to see he was not happy with the sudden change in his status from guest to prisoner.
Chapter XV
Two Moon sat in the circle of elders and principal warriors of his village, patiently listening to the advice of those whom he always listened to in matters of importance. Bull Hump expressed his bewilderment over calling a council to discuss the issue—he argued that there was nothing to discuss. The white scout, Coles, was an enemy and had violated a treaty by coming into Indian territory. He had spilled the blood of Cheyenne warriors and he should be killed, the same as any other enemy of the people. As for the evil-looking little trader, Black Hat, he was like the fleas that tunnel into the fur of the camp dogs. He should be driven out or killed too—it was unimportant which. Having said his piece, Bull Hump sat down and another warrior rose to be heard. Though not an elder, he was an important member of the village and the council gave him their attention.
“I, Red Hawk, am Keeper of the Sacred Arrows only because this white man showed the courage and strength of heart to return them to the village. You have honored me by allowing me to accept the responsibility of guarding the sacred arrows, just as my father before me. Now I say that my father looked into this man’s heart and saw the strength there. When he returned the arrows, he proved my father to be right. I say he has earned the right to leave this camp unharmed. He did not bring war; he did not come to steal horses or to trade whisky. He came looking for another white man. Why do we protect this man, this Black Hat? Is there any among us who would place any value on this man’s word?” He paused and gazed around the circle. No one spoke to defend Pike’s name. “I say let the two white men settle their trouble between them.”
Big Turtle got to his feet. “I do not argue with what Red Hawk says. I understand his feelings for the white scout who tended Talking Owl’s wounds and then returned the arrows. I think it is plain to see that Coles has the steel of a warrior in his soul, while Black Hat is little more than a thieving coyote. But the coyote brings weapons and bullets, which we sorely need. That is all I have to say.”
Two Moon listened, giving his attention to everything that was said as
he went around the circle. Each man either had something to say on the matter, or nodded approval or disapproval of someone else’s comment. It appeared that the council was almost equally divided upon the issue. Some were for permitting Jason to leave the village freely, as he had come. But still, half the warriors could not forgive the killing of Hungry Wolf and his followers. Some pointed out that Coles worked for the soldiers and, consequently, there might be retaliation if they killed one of their scouts. This, they said, might not be a wise thing to do, since they still maintained that they were not at war with the army at the present time. Others rebuked this attitude, saying the army would not be foolish enough to send soldiers this deep into Indian territory.
Two Moon listened patiently until all had had an opportunity to speak. They had been talking for more than an hour on the matter when he finally rose to render his decision. “I have given consideration to all the words spoken here and I think there is steel in each man’s opinion. I agree with Red Hawk and others who say Coles is an honorable man and a brave warrior. He knows the ways of the Cheyenne and respects our beliefs.” Here he paused, looking solemnly around the gathering of elders. “But he has killed twelve of our young warriors and, for that, he must be punished. And the punishment is death. But because his medicine is strong and he is a brave warrior, his death shall be quick, and there will be no mutilation of his body.
“As for Black Hat, I am sickened by the sight of this man. Before Coles is killed, he shall have his chance to face Black Hat in combat. We will see which man’s medicine is strongest. If Coles survives, then he will be killed. If the little coyote survives, he shall be permitted to leave but he will be killed if he shows his face here again. That is my decision.”
The members of the council nodded to each other, all accepting the decision of their chief. After a few minutes of individual discussion among them, they rose and filed out of Two Moon’s tipi.
Cheyenne Justice Page 22