Running Fox had been in favor of going home when their second attempt brought no results, but the others, especially his wife’s brother, Bloody Feathers, argued that there was no honor in returning to the village with nothing to show for their lengthy absence. Consequently, they had spent the past seven days scouting the valleys beyond these mountains, only to find that the white man had arrived in too many numbers, building villages and digging the dirt they found so precious from the hills and streams. Now, ready to leave for home, they waited while Bear Track made one last scout on the camp at the foot of the hills. “We have taken their horses,” Running Fox had insisted. “They do not have any more horses. They are probably gone from that camp.” Bloody Feathers had argued that Bear Track might as well make sure. So they sat by the fire and waited for his return.
“Someone comes!” one of the warriors whispered, and the others grabbed their weapons and quickly moved away from the fire. The warning was followed a few seconds later by the confirmation that it was Bear Track returning.
Running into their midst, Bear Track exclaimed excitedly, “Many ponies! The white men have brought more ponies!”
His news caused immediate reaction from his fellow warriors. “How many?” Bloody Feathers asked.
“I don’t know,” Bear Track replied. “I couldn’t count them—maybe fifty or more. But they are grazing a long way from the camp where the white men live.”
“Are there still only two white men to guard them?”
“No,” Bear Track answered. “I saw four more, but two of them are only children.”
While his friends rejoiced over an opportunity to steal more horses, Running Fox considered the news that Bear Track had brought. The two white men who were living in the hut had the rifles that shoot many times. Maybe their friends had the same weapons. It would be unwise to try to make a surprise raid on the herd of horses. He, Bloody Feathers, and Bear Track had single-shot rifles. The other three had only bows. When the warriors’ initial excitement settled down, Running Fox counseled on the folly of matching weapons with the white men. “We will go after these horses, but we will have to wait until darkness so that we can surprise them. Their guns are too strong.”
There was no disagreement with his advice, for they all knew about the repeating rifles. It did not dampen their enthusiasm for the raid, however. “Maybe we can kill some of them and take their guns that shoot many times,” Bear Track said. He smiled at Bloody Feathers. “I could kill many enemies with a gun like that.”
It was a long time coming, but night finally descended upon the mountains, and the small raiding party quietly made their way down a wooded ravine toward the valley. Much to their disappointment, the horses were no longer grazing free on the open prairie. They had been driven back to be penned in the large corrals near the hut. This called for a new plan of attack. Heading back toward the white men’s camp, they trotted along in single file, hugging the base of the hills and the cover the trees afforded. When within fifty yards of the corrals, Running Fox halted the party and looked the situation over.
“There are no guards in sight,” Bear Track whispered. “They all sleep in the hut.”
Running Fox was not so sure. “They wouldn’t leave all those horses unguarded,” he said. “I think maybe there are guards hiding where we cannot see them.” He studied the scene a few moments longer. “I think they would see us if we try to cross all this open space between here and the pens. I think it would be better to climb up this hill and come down near their hut. Then we can climb over the fence and take out the rails, and drive the horses out the back of the pen.” He paused then and looked around him at his fellow warriors. “That is just what I think. What does someone else say?” The plan seemed good to the others, so they started up through the trees.
Young Ben Persons watched Cade Hunter’s back until the rangy man from Colorado was enveloped in the darkness and had faded from sight. Then he settled himself again with his back against a sizable boulder near a rear corner of the corral. Though only ten, he was certain that he could handle himself as well as the adults, so he was a little disappointed that Cade had chosen to station him in a safe place close to the cabin. Clutching his 1864 model Spencer carbine, he felt confident and unafraid, proud that Cade had welcomed him as a partner. He had heard the men talking, so he knew they expected no trouble until the hours preceding dawn. But if the Blackfoot raiders showed up sooner than expected, he would give them something to think about. He was a good shot with the surplus army rifle, and he told himself he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot the sneaky horse thieves.
The night wore on, and Ben shifted his body several times when the hard ground began to become uncomfortable. From his position, he could see the back rails of the two big corrals as well as the sides of one of them. After what seemed an eternity, he heard a soft whistle. He immediately answered it, and a few seconds later, Cade emerged from the darkness, leading his horse.
“How you doin’, partner?” Cade asked.
“I’m okay,” Ben answered boldly. “Is it time to get Pa and Johnny?”
“No, we’ve only been out here for a little over half an hour.” Ben couldn’t see the smile on Cade’s face. “Time just passes slow when you ain’t doin’ nothin’ but waitin’,” he said.
“It don’t bother me,” Ben boasted. “I could stay out here all night if I had to.”
“Well, I hope we don’t have to,” Cade replied. “I’m gonna take a little turn around the far side of the corral and look around. I just wanted to let you know where I was.”
Ben watched his partner again until he disappeared around the corner of the corral; then he settled down against the boulder once more. The time began to drag as before, but a short time later he heard a bird call. He answered immediately, smiling to himself. It didn’t sound much like a whip-poor-will, he thought, and waited for Cade to reappear. No more than a couple of seconds passed when he heard another bird call, this one like the first he had heard, but behind him. Maybe it was a real bird he had heard and not Cade. He got up and moved cautiously toward the fence corner, peering into the darkness. The actions of the next few seconds happened so fast that Ben was helpless to even struggle. The powerful arm that trapped him pinned his rifle to him, holding him captive while a hand clamped over his mouth so tightly that he couldn’t make a sound.
Bear Track had been unaware of the boy’s presence on the other side of the boulder until Ben unwittingly answered Bloody Feathers’ signal. Surprised to find the sentinel was a mere child, Bear Track quickly sprang upon him, but found the boy to be a handful. Ben struggled to free himself, causing Bear Track to hold him even tighter. He intended to silence the boy permanently, but he found he could not free a hand to draw his knife without chancing a shout from Ben to alert those sleeping in the hut. Seeing no alternative, he carried Ben back up the hill into the firs, seeking a place where the child could not be heard.
Terrified now that he found himself helpless against the strength of the savage arms that bound him, Ben continued to struggle, but to no avail. He was transported back up into the forest as easily as if he were a sack of flour, his attempts to call for help no more than muffled murmurs.
Moving as fast as he could, for he knew the others waited for him to remove the rails in the corral, Bear Track slammed the boy down under the limbs of a fir tree. With one hand holding Ben down by his throat, he released the other hand and snatched his knife from his belt. One forceful strike through the youngster’s chest should finish him quickly. He raised the knife high over his head, then thrust downward only to meet with a steel grip that caught his wrist—at the same time feeling a pistol barrel against his side, a split second before the revolver fired. Bear Track stiffened as the bullet tore into his insides, causing him to release his hold on the boy’s throat. In desperation, he tried to turn to face his assailant. With one wrist still entrapped, he clawed at Cade with his other hand until the pistol fired again, ending his struggles.
B
elow them, at the foot of the hill, Cade could hear the sounds of alarm from the cabin as the others clamored to fend off the attack. He shoved Bear Track’s body over, freeing the stunned ten-year-old. “Are you all right?” he asked, as Ben gasped for air. Still too frightened to speak, Ben nodded his head frantically. “Come on, then,” Cade said, and started back down through the trees. “Stay close,” he added.
By the time they reached the spot at the bottom of the hill where Cade had tied Loco, they could hear the rapid gunfire and shouts of the men now running to stop the raiders. Running Fox had managed to withdraw the top pole in the corral gate. When the pistol shots alerted the white men in the cabin, the raiders had to abandon plans to open the gate and drive all the horses out. Running Fox and Bloody Feathers, now inside the corral, made a desperate attempt to escape. They each jumped upon the back of a horse, and guiding the animal by grasping its ears, charged out of the corral, holding on with knees and hands as the horses jumped the lower rails of the gate. Running Fox hoped that other horses would follow, but Jim Big Tree and Jack Walker got to the gate quickly and drove the rest of the horses back. Right behind them, Hank turned to send a couple of rifle shots after the fleeing Indians. Seeing the raid hopeless, the remaining members of the party fled after Running Fox and Bloody Feathers.
Emerging from the trees in time to see the two Indians gallop away with two horses, Cade shouted to Ben, “Go over there with your pa and Johnny, and be careful who you aim that damn rifle at.” Then he jumped up in the saddle and urged Loco after the retreating Indians in an effort not to lose them in the dark.
Racing across the grassy plain, he could barely make out the two shadowy images ahead of him as they galloped toward the pass north of the camp. He urged Loco onward and the horse responded eagerly, slowly cutting the distance between him and the Indians. Just before reaching the pass, one of the horses veered off to his left, heading back toward the hills behind the camp. Quickly deciding he had to follow in case the Indian was going back to make another attempt at the horses, Cade let the other raider go.
With the horses rapidly tiring, Cade followed the Blackfoot up through the trees on the hillside. Once in the midst of the firs that covered the west side of the hill, Cade pulled up and dismounted, lest he run headlong into an ambush. The darkness was heavy and still in the forest, but he could hear the Indian moving some forty yards ahead of him. Looking around to orient himself, he realized the Blackfoot warrior was making his way back toward the spot where Cade had killed the first raider.
He could see him now, a lone Blackfoot warrior, leading the horse back downhill, having fashioned a hasty bridle with a rope. Cade looped Loco’s reins over a fir bough and followed. He could have shot the Indian on the spot, but he decided that the warrior was only intent upon recovering the body of his friend. Convinced that the raid was over, Cade saw no reason to kill the man.
A few yards farther down through the trees and Cade’s speculation proved to be accurate. With his rifle slung on his back, Running Fox was bending over the slain warrior. He grasped him under the arms and started to lift him up when he suddenly froze. Cade looked beyond him to see Ben stepping out from a low bush, his rifle pointed at the Indian.
In the darkened forest, Cade could not see Ben’s eyes wide with indecision, his hand trembling on the trigger guard, as man and boy stood immobile in a brief vacuum of time. The momentary image of another ten-year-old flashed across Cade’s mind, and he called out, “Ben! Don’t shoot! Let him go. Let him take his dead and go.” Ben hesitated, and Cade emerged from the brush behind Running Fox. Startled by Cade’s sudden appearance, Running Fox dropped Bear Track’s body and started to reach for his knife. Cade quickly leveled his Winchester and aimed it at Running Fox’s belly, discouraging the Indian’s desperate attempt. Moving between the raider and the boy, Cade said calmly, “Put it down, Ben. We’ll let him take his dead home. No need for any more killin’.”
Caught in total confusion now, Running Fox waited for the rifle shot that would send him to the spirit world, knowing he could not get his own rifle off his back in time to save his life. Cade stood squarely before him and motioned with his rifle. “Go ahead and take your friend,” he said, but Running Fox knew no English. Finally, after Cade motioned several times more, the Blackfoot warrior understood. Nodding slowly, he reached down and grasped Bear Track again. Pulling him upright, he let the body fall across his shoulder. Cade offered no help. With the rifle still leveled at the Indian, he watched as Running Fox struggled to heft Bear Track’s body up on the horse. Once the body was settled and secure, Running Fox turned back to look at the man watching him. He nodded solemnly, then turned and led the horse back the way he had come.
“Damn!” Ben exhaled after the Indian had gone, swallowed up by the dark forest on the hillside. That was all he said for a few moments, then, “I was gonna shoot him.”
“I know you were, but there wasn’t no use to shoot him. He was just tryin’ to carry that other feller back home. He didn’t have it in his mind to cause no more trouble.” He knew from bitter experience that ten was too tender an age to carry an image of a man dead by your hand. “Let me get Loco, and let’s get back before your pa starts worrying about you.” He started toward the brush where Loco was tied. “What were you doin’ here, anyway? I thought I told you to go with your pa.”
“You did,” Ben admitted, “but I just wanted to see if that one you killed was still here.”
Back by the corral, a relieved Hank Persons came forward to meet Cade and Ben when they walked across the clearing between the cabin and the trees. “Ben, where the hell did you run off to?” Hank demanded.
“He was with me, chasin’ off them last two Injuns,” Cade said.
“I was worried about you, boy,” Hank said.
“I was with Cade,” Ben assured him, as if that should tell his father that he was in no danger.
“Lost two horses,” Jack Walker announced as he and Jim Big Tree joined them. “I reckon that ain’t as bad as it coulda been. At least nobody got shot.” Although everyone agreed that the Blackfoot raiding party would not likely try again after they found out how much firepower the camp could deliver, they didn’t chance leaving the herd unguarded through the rest of the night.
Chapter 9
Cade sat on his blanket, drinking his coffee, staring thoughtfully out across the prairie toward the east where the sun threatened to rise at any minute. Summer was getting thin now, and the mornings were chilly. Soon he would be awakening to find frost on the bunchgrass of the valley. He took a cautious sip of the bitter black liquid, careful that the metal cup might still be too hot to touch to his lips. The coffee was strong and good, and warmed him all the way down to his belly. Many thoughts wandered across his mind, and he figured it was time for him to move on. He had agreed to stay until Mr. Kramer and his crew arrived from Deer Lodge, and according to Jack Walker’s expectations, that should be any day now. The picture of the Blackfoot warrior bending over his dead friend returned to remind him that he could have recovered one of the missing horses. All he had to do was pull the trigger, or let Ben take the burden on his young conscience. He wasn’t sure why he had spared the Indian. It just seemed like there was no sense in killing him. Indians found honor in stealing horses. They’d made a try for Kramer’s horses and failed. Why not let it go at that? Besides, he thought, thinking of Levi and Willow, the fellow might have been Levi’s brother-in-law. The idle speculation brought a faint smile to his face. Other thoughts came to replace thoughts of Levi and Willow. The activity of the last few days had pushed Lem Snider to the back of his mind. He told himself that he could not forget his promise to Luke Tucker. It would be a sin before God to let Snider get away with Luke’s murder. In spite of that, he had to admit that he was no closer to finding Lem Snider than he had been the day he left Levi’s cabin on the mountain. After leaving Butte, the man seemed to have disappeared. Cade’s plans to go to Helena were no better than a miner scratching around in
the ground hoping gold might be under it. He had no reason to believe that Snider might be in Helena, but he didn’t know of any better place to look.
In the afternoon of the second day after the Blackfoot raid, Carlton Kramer, with five men and a wagon of supplies, arrived at the Coyote Creek camp. A man of medium height, Kramer seemed to stand taller, carrying the confidence of a man accustomed to leading. With dark, wavy hair and a full beard, he presented a handsome figure of a successful man. Cade felt he was in the presence of one who could build an empire in whatever field he endeavored.
Kramer expressed his appreciation to Cade, Hank, and Hank’s two sons for staying on to help guard the horses. When he learned that Cade was on his own with no ties to Hank, he conferred with his foreman, Jack Walker, about the young man and the possibility of hiring him to ride with Jack’s crew.
Walker told him that Cade had been responsible for the one warrior who was killed in the raid, and that Cade had showed no lack of courage when he chased after the two stolen horses. “He helped Hank Persons bring the herd over here, and Hank said he’s never seen a man better at under-standin’ horses than Cade. From what I’ve seen, he’d be a damn good man to have on the payroll.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Kramer said and immediately approached Cade with a job offer.
“Well, I hadn’t really thought about anything but ridin’ up to Helena to take care of some business for a friend of mine,” Cade said in answer to Kramer’s offer.
“Jack says you’re a good hand with horses,” Kramer replied. “I can always use a good man.” He paused a moment, sensing that Cade was giving it serious thought. “I pay top wages, and you’ll be working with a fine crew.”
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