“Well, we can’t talk to her tonight,” Ty says standing up. “And it may be weeks before we can talk to her without destroying the fragment of trust that we have built up. So, I’m tired and I am going to bed. I didn’t get a nap like you did today.”
Ty edges away from the fire and heads toward our teepee. I follow him, thinking about trust and slavery and how much William and Annie must miss their mother. We enter our teepee and close the flap.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The Rescue
“I know you don’t think it is a good idea,” I say to Ty as I sit down on my stack of buffalo skins, “but I am going to go rescue Elizabeth tonight. I know where her teepee is. It is close by. Just three teepees away, actually, and one over.” I point with my hand.
“You can’t just go rescue her,” Ty says, rolling his eyes and sounding totally exasperated.
“Why?” I snap back. “Because it will mess up the time continuum, or something? Well, I don’t care about the time continuum. We probably already messed that up just by being here in 1866. And that’s what probably got Elizabeth captured by Indians. When I rescue her, it will probably fix the time continuum.” I shut my mouth. I didn’t mean to be so hostile.
“Yeah, well,” Ty says quietly. “You mess with history and history messes you up.”
“I don’t think so,” I say confidently. “History will be kind to me because I intend to write it.” I am pretty sure that Winston Churchill said that, so I expect Ty to be properly impressed.
“It’s just that you won’t get away with it,” Ty says, ignoring my Churchill quote.
“And just why is that?”
“Because there is a Sioux warrior watching us twenty-four hours a day,” Ty says quite matter-of-factly.
I crawl over to the teepee entrance and part the flap slightly. I stare into the shadows for several minutes letting my eyes adjust until I spot a slight movement by a nearby teepee. Ty is right. There is a warrior keeping watch on our teepee. I feel sufficiently stupid. I didn’t realize how closely we are being watched. I didn’t really see that while we are welcome here, we are actually prisoners. All the more reason that we need to escape. All of us.
I carefully close the flap and crawl back to my pile of skins. Without saying a word I lie down. No one deserves to be held prisoner by Indians in 1866. I’m going to escape and I’m taking Elizabeth with me. Ty can stay if he wants. I lie quietly for what seems like forever. Finally I hear steady in and out breathing coming from Ty and I know he is asleep.
I pull my knife from my pocket and open it with a soft click. Slowly I inch my way to the back of the teepee. In the soft moonlight entering through the roof of the teepee, I spot a seam where two buffalo hides are stitched together. Carefully I locate each stitch and one by one slice them with my blade. I work steadily for twenty minutes, maybe more, until I have cut the leather stitching about eighteen inches.
I push my hand between the heavy buffalo skins. Huh? I almost say out loud. There is … something … holding … Of all the crazy things … There are two layers. I reach through the inner layer and rub my fingers along the outer hide until I find the outer seam. Fortunately, it is close by, and using both hands, I manage to cut the stitching of that layer, too. I push open the edges and carefully advance, head first, until my head is outside. The night air is cool, with only a hint of a breeze.
I let my eyes adjust for several minutes, slowly scanning the shadows. I feel like a prisoner in Alcatraz tunneling out. After years of digging I finally break through the outer wall. I can taste freedom. My mind comes back to reality. But even reality these days is a long way from Arizona and home and … I push the thought out of my mind. It looks like the coast is clear, I think to myself.
With a little push from my toes and elbows, I shift forward inch by inch and eventually emerge from the teepee. Rising to my hands and knees, I crawl like a cat on a hunt, making almost no noise. My shoe scuffs a rock and I freeze, not moving for a full minute. Anyone listening needed to think the scuff was just a random night sound, and not a human passing by. My knee breaks a small twig. I wait. I stay in the shadows and move very slowly.
Finally I reach the teepee that I had seen Elizabeth go into. There is no security guard outside this teepee, which seems odd to me. Parting the entrance flap I let myself gently inside, where I crouch, motionless, picking shapes out of the dim moonlit room.
Three … no, four figures asleep on buffalo hides. No wonder there is no guard outside. There are three in here! One of the sleeping figures has light hair, the other three have dark hair. I move noiselessly toward the woman with light colored hair and touch her shoulder.
“Aaah,” she gasps, waking quickly from her light sleep. Her face is frightened and I can see that she is ready to scream.
“It’s me. Jared,” I whisper.
“What … what … are you doing here?” she whispers back.
“We came to rescue you,” I say to make a long explanation much shorter. I couldn’t very well tell her that we were a distraction so William and Annie could escape, and that Ty fought Black Hawk so we could come here, and that I raced Fast Bear.
“Rescue me?” she hisses. “Who else is here?”
As if on cue, Ty pushes the teepee flap open and slips inside. I look at him with eyes that say, ‘What are you doing here?”
“Ty?” she hisses angrily again. “Did William come, too?”
Across the teepee a small figure with black hair rolls over, then abruptly sits up. She mutters something in the Lakota language and slides toward the teepee entrance.
“It’s okay,” Elizabeth says calmly to the young woman. “They are friends.” The young woman pushes back against the walls of the teepee moving away from us as much as possible.
“We obviously do not have much time,” I say. “We need to get you out of here.”
“You boys should not have come,” Elizabeth whispers angrily.
“We can’t leave you here, captive,” I protest.
“They probably will not harm me,” Elizabeth says quietly, “Or they would have done that by now. “But if they catch you boys in this teepee, or trying to escape with me, they will kill you. Sioux Indians are not known for compassion to White Men.”
I hear a scuffle behind us and we all turn our heads to see the young Sioux woman scurry out the flap of the teepee, faster than a squirrel up a tree.
“She will alert the guard,” Ty says. “Come on!”
I look at Elizabeth. “Go!” she says. “Fast!”
I duck out of the teepee and plow right into Black Hawk. He grabs my arm and pulls me away. I look back and see Elizabeth. Wet streaks smudge her face and reflect in the moonlight. In seconds another warrior joins us, dragging Ty with him. I can guess where we are going and I am right. We stop in front of the teepee of Four Bears, the Sioux Chief.
In a moment Four Bears emerges from the teepee and Medicine Eagle joins us. Black Hawk speaks for a short time and then the other warrior. I see the anger wash across the face of Four Bears, and disappointment in the eyes of Medicine Eagle.
“Black Hawk says you were in the teepee with the White Woman. That you were planning to take her from us.”
“She does not belong here,” I say with more passion than I intend.
“So it is true then” he says. “Also, that The-Brave, who you call Ty, was found near the teepee.”
“She belongs with her family,” I say. “We want to return her to her children.”
“She belongs to the warrior who captured her,” Four Bears states. “And you were trying to take her from us. That makes you an enemy of the Sioux. For this you both will die by fire.”
“Great Chief,” Ty says. “We meant no disrespect, for you are indeed a great chief of these people. Perhaps you will spare our lives …”
“You did not live by our traditions and our customs and our laws for even two days. You are like all White Man. You say one thing and then do another. Because Runs-Like-Deer has
the greater transgression, he will watch you die by fire first, then Runs-Like-Deer will die by fire, also. I am Four Bears, Chief of these people, and decree that this punishment take place tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Death By Fire
“Wait,” I say. “I must say goodbye to my White brother.” I open my arms and lean over to Ty, patting him on the back. With my best slight of hand I slip the spirit pouch into his back pocket. “Tell Mom that I love her,” I whisper in his ear. I see Medicine Eagle look at me and then at Ty’s back pocket, but he says nothing. Ty, however figures out what I put in his pocket and his face transforms into a picture of horror. “No!” he yells. “I just found you. You can’t do this!”
Black Hawk pulls us apart.
“It needs a personal item. Ring. Picture. Anything,” I say as we separate.
Chief Four Bears waves his hand and the warriors force Ty toward the center of the village. I follow with Black Hawk tightly gripping my arm. I see several warriors work to build two fire pits. They drive a pole into the ground of each pit, then they lash Ty with his back to the pole, securing his feet, thighs, chest and wrists to the pole with leather bands. Ty has no chance to fight. No chance to use his Karate. He has no chance to live unless he can use the spirit pouch. They lash me to the next pole facing Ty while I watch them stack generous amounts of dry wood all around Ty. I am amazed at how fast we became traitors. I am amazed at how fast they build fire pits. I am amazed at how fast we will die.
“The U.S. Cavalry will find you,” I shout, seeing Four Bears standing a short way off, watching intently.
“No,” he answers, shaking his head sideways as he walks up to me. “When ever our warriors are spotted by the cavalry, they lead them away from our village. Your cavalry keep looking for us in the wrong places. They will not come.” He walks away into the shadows.
The warriors stack dry wood around me, and I feel the weight of impending death press against my legs, then my back and then my chest with every additional log. Above the wood I look outward and see Ty, eyes closed. Praying, I think.
I say my own prayer. I ask for a miracle. I ask for protection. After all, Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego were cast in the fiery furnace and were protected.
[95] I ask forgiveness, and I try to ask forgiveness for these savage warriors that would burn another live human being. I am working on this part of my prayer when I hear a murmur from all around. I open my eyes.
I see Medicine Eagle holding a fiery torch above his head. He speaks first in the Lakota language to the fire-lit faces of the Sioux people gathered around, then he speaks in English. “Because these White Men have broken the laws of our people and because they have broken our trust, and by the decree of our Chief, Four Bears, they will suffer death by fire. They will be taken up to the Great Spirit to answer for their transgression.”
With that, Medicine Eagle touches his torch to the dry tinder and in a few short seconds the hot orange and blue monster of death begins to lick the dry wood, swirling and crawling upward, casting an eerie light through the burning branches upon Ty.
I see Ty struggle, pulling and twisting to get loose, then he screams. I want desperately to help, and I pull against the leather holding my own wrists. My bindings do not give, and I know Ty’s won’t either.
“Ty,” I scream, but the smoke makes me cough and my voice does not work. Then I see his hands, one holding the spirit pouch which he had retrieved from his pocket. In his other hand is a white piece of paper. I have seen that paper only once before and I know what it is. His genealogic fan chart listing his relation to me. His declaration that we are brothers. He touches the paper to the spirit pouch and bows his head.
A cloud of smoke and sparks swirl upward and engulf Ty, blocking any view I previously had of him. All I can see now are flaring flames and swirling smoke. A white piece of flaming paper twirls upward into the moonlit night sky.
Medicine Eagle pokes at the fire with a long stick, then walks over to me. Sliding his hand into mine he deposits something hot which burns my fingers in places. Our eyes meet and in that instant I know what it is that he placed in my hand. The spirit pouch!
Medicine Eagle checks the bindings on my feet and legs. I don’t hardly notice because my mind is racing, I need a personal item for the spirit pouch and I need it fast. I saw how quickly the flames ignited this dry wood. I know that I only have seconds before I am engulfed by fire, and I notice that Medicine Eagle is stalling to give me a few more precious seconds. I thank God for that.
My bracelet! My friendship bracelet from Lyn! It is surprisingly hard to hold the spirit pouch and pull the bracelet off of my wrist with my wrists tied to the pole. Luckily my wrists are tied above the bracelet. Even so, I fumble and almost drop the pouch while Medicine Eagle gives another speech in the Lakota tongue.
All too soon Medicine Eagle finishes talking and touches the deadly flames to the wood. The hot fire spreads quickly in the faint breeze. I cough from the smoke and feel the searing heat rapidly rise from the fledgling flames. I manage to pull open the leather bag and slide the bracelet inside. I am choking and begin to cough. I close my eyes.
“I desire …” Cough. “… to return to …” Cough. Cough. “… to …” Ty returned to the trunk of a burning car out in the desert near the high school. We will both die in that burning car. Or die here by fire.
I take a choking, smoke-filled breath. “I desire to return to my bedroom at home in Arizona fifteen minutes earlier than when I left Arizona,” I say.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Out Of The Frying Pan …
All is quiet. I can smell the smoke from the fire, but not gasoline! There is a noise not too far away. Kind of a high pitched dull roar.
The vacuum cleaner! I open my eyes and see my bed, my window, my room!
“Mom!” I try to yell, coughing mostly. I dart like a startled cottontail out of my room. “Mother!” I run down the hallway. “Mom!” I round the corner. Mother is vacuuming the living room carpet and the noise blocks out my yelling. I grab the electrical cord and yank it out of the wall socket so hard that it flies across the room and the plug lands on the couch.
“Mom,” I yell through the dying din as the vacuum whirs to a stop.
“Jared,” Mom exclaims. “Did you do that? Don’t …”
“Mom,” I yell. “This is an emergency!”
“Is there a fire?” she smells my shirt. “You look awful. Are you okay?”
“Mom. Listen. Ty is in trouble.”
“Your friend at school?”
“Yes, Mom. Listen! He was taken by Franky at school and forced into the trunk of a car. Franky has a gun. They went into the desert. Franky is going to set the car on fire. We need to call the police or Ty will burn to death!”
Mom looks at me like all moms do with eyes that search your soul to see if you are lying.
“This is no joke,” I say. “I am not exaggerating, and you know I would not lie to you.”
Mom stands there holding the vacuum for about two seconds, then jumps into high gear. “You better not be, son.” She practically flies to the phone and dials 911. She explains to the dispatch woman who answers the call every detail she can, then she says, “No I can’t stay on the line. I am going to the school. I will talk to the police there.” She hangs up.
“Come on,” she says grabbing her keys. “We’ve got a boy to save.”
I don’t ever remember seeing Mom drive so fast. I think about telling her to slow down so we don’t crash, but she slips past a couple of really slow cars that are actually doing the speed limit and runs one yellow light. She does pull over briefly when a police car races up behind us. Then she pulls out and follows it in fast pursuit.
The police car stops by the desert across the street from the high school and Mom pulls up behind him, sliding to a stop in the loose, sandy dirt.
“That’s where they went into the desert, Mom,” I say, pointing to an off-road path leading away from t
he school.
“Officer,” Mom says ejecting herself from the car. “I am the one who placed the 911 call. My son’s friend was forced into the trunk of a car at gun point. Apparently they drove into the desert right there,” she says pointing to the place I showed her. “He is going to set the car on fire!”
“Thank you ma’am. We’ll take it from here,” the policeman says returning to his car and driving off into the desert.
“Come on,” I say urgently. “We have to follow them!”
“They said that they would take it from here,” Mom says.
“Well, they didn’t say that we had to stay here.”
“No, but …”
“What if they don’t get to Ty soon enough. What if …” I stop talking because Mom puts the car in gear and turns it into the desert. When we pull up behind the police car, both police men have their guns out and pointed threateningly at Franky, who has both hands in the air.
I see the burning stolen car and a gas can laying on its side close by. Smoke is starting to flow off the tires as they catch fire. One officer walks over to Franky while still training his hand gun on him. “Keep your hands in the air and drop to your knees.”
Franky obeys and the officer walks up to him, reaches behind him and pulls Franky’s hand gun from where it is concealed against his back.
I open my car door. “He has a knife in his pocket,” I yell as I run toward the burning car.
“Stay back!” the officer warns. “That car is going to explode!”
“My friend is in the trunk,” I yell, darting to the driver’s door. “I’m not going to just stand here and let him die.” I grab the door handle but it is so hot that it burns my hand. I pull my shirt over to the handle and the cloth shields my fingers from the heat just long enough to pull the latch. The door swings open and a cloud of smoke billows out. I duck down and look inside at the dashboard between the door and the steering column. The release latch has to be here! I can’t find it. I hear a thumping banging sound coming from the rear of the car. “Ty!” I yell.
Spirit Pouch Page 32