Comancheros (A Cheyenne Western. Book 7)

by Judd Cole

  Raised among frontier settlers, Touch the Sky never feared losing his freedom. But to his people, the threat of being sold into bondage was very real. And when a notorious Spanish slave trader captured the women and children, Touch the Sky and his brother warriors swore to save them. It was a race against time, and if the Cheyenne were too late, their glorious past would face into a hopeless future.

  CHEYENNE 7: COMANCHEROS

  By Judd Cole

  First published by Leisure Books in 1993

  Copyright © 1993, 2016 by Judd Cole

  First Smashwords Edition: April 2016

  Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  Cover image © 2015 by Edward Martin. Visit Ed here

  This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book

  Series Editor: Ben Bridges

  Published by Arrangement with the Author.

  Prologue

  Twenty winters before the Bluecoats fought the Graycoats in the bloody war between the hair faces, a band of Northern Cheyenne warriors led by Chief Running Antelope was attacked by pony soldiers in a surprise pincer movement near the North Platte River. Running Antelope, his wife Lotus Petal, and thirty others were massacred.

  The sole survivor was the squalling infant clutched in the dead chief’s arms—Running Antelope’s son, whose Cheyenne name was now lost forever. The baby was returned to the Wyoming Territory settlement of Bighorn Falls. Adopted by John Hanchon and his barren wife Sarah, the child was named Matthew and raised as their own son.

  Matthew worked in his parents’ mercantile store and, at first, felt accepted in his limited world despite occasional hostile stares and remarks from, strangers. But during his sixteenth year he fell in love with Kristen Steele. Kristen’s bitter, Indian-hating father, Hiram, had the youth savagely beaten for meeting secretly with his daughter. Steele also warned Matthew that another attempt to meet with Kristen would get him killed.

  But soon the threats widened to include his white parents. A young cavalry officer named Seth Carlson, who had staked a claim to Kristen’s hand, was humiliated when Matthew’s hard-hitting fists sent him sprawling into the mud. Carlson delivered an ultimatum: Either Matthew pointed his bridle out of the territory forever, or Carlson would make sure his parents lost their valuable contract to supply nearby Fort Bates.

  His heart saddened but determined, Matthew left his home forever and rode north toward the Powder River and Cheyenne country. Captured by braves from Chief Yellow Bear’s tribe, he was declared a spy for the Bluecoats and sentenced to torture and death. But at the moment when a youth named Wolf Who Hunts Smiling was about to execute the prisoner, old Arrow Keeper intervened.

  The tribal medicine man and the keeper of the four sacred Medicine Arrows, Arrow Keeper had recently experienced a great vision at Medicine Lake. His vision centered around a mysterious young Cheyenne stranger who would eventually lead the Shaiyena people in one last, great victory against the white men. And the warrior of that medicine vision bore the same mark on his scalp that this young prisoner bore: a mulberry-colored birthmark in the shape of a perfect arrowhead, the traditional symbol of the Cheyenne warrior.

  But Arrow Keeper’s vision also foretold extreme suffering and many bloody battles before the youth could ever raise high the lance of leadership. Given the Cheyenne name Touch the Sky, Matthew was ordered to join the warriors in training. But his ignorance—and his many enemies within the tribe—combined at first to ensure his failure and lack of acceptance.

  Then Touch the Sky, assisted by his boyhood friend Corey Robinson, saved Yellow Bear’s tribe from a Pawnee attack. He was honored by the Council of Forty for his bravery and cunning. But now his enemies hated him more than ever—especially Black Elk, the fierce young war leader who was enraged by the growing love between Touch the Sky and Honey Eater, Chief Yellow Bear’s daughter. And Black Elk’s young but hateful and ambitious cousin, Wolf Who Hunts Smiling, walked between Touch the Sky and the camp fire—a Cheyenne’s way of announcing his intention of killing a man.

  When Touch the Sky rescued Honey Eater from Henri Lagace’s camp of ruthless whiskey traders, the two swore their love for each other. But soon after, Touch the Sky was forced to desert the tribe and return to Bighorn Falls to help his adopted parents. Hiram Steele and Lieutenant Seth Carlson had already driven them out of the mercantile business. Now they threatened the Hanchons’ new mustang spread.

  Assisted by his new friend Little Horse and the sympathetic cavalry officer Tom Riley, Touch the Sky helped defeat his parents’ enemies. But deserting his tribe caused a twofold tragedy: Cheyenne spies saw him conferring with Tom Riley, and they reported to the headmen that Touch the Sky was a spy for the Long Knives. Honey Eater, in turn, believing he had deserted her and the tribe, was pressured into marrying Black Elk after her ailing father crossed over to the Land of Ghosts.

  Touch the Sky was heartbroken, discouraged, sick of the constant struggle now that he had returned to discover his loss of Honey Eater. But his hopes once again faced east after he too experienced the important medicine vision which foretold his future greatness—and promised him a wife and child. Determined now to join the tribe at any cost, he braved assassination attempts by his tribal enemies, defeated white land-grabbers, and suffered unjust punishments for supposed violations of the strict Cheyenne Hunt Law.

  His constant courage and warrior’s skill eventually earned the respect of more and more members of the tribe, now led by their new chief, Gray Thunder. But everyone in the tribe knew of the great and forbidden love between Touch the Sky and Honey Eater. Touch the Sky locked horns with Black Elk more than once because of the latter’s jealousy.

  While with the tribe on a hunt to the south, Honey Eater and other Cheyenne women and children were abducted by a combined band of Kiowas and Comanches. They intend to sell them to the Comanchero slave traders in the New Mexico territory. Once again Touch the Sky and his enemy Black Elk were on a collision course: Each brave claimed a husband’s right and swore to save Honey Eater and the others. And each brave knew one of them must die.

  Chapter One

  “Brothers, you have listened to River of Winds. Now have ears for my words!”

  Chief Gray Thunder folded his arms and immediately silence fell over the clearing where the Cheyenne headmen and warriors had gathered for this emergency council. Beside him, his buckskin leggings still covered with pale alkali dust from his hard journey across barren country, stood the scout named River of Winds. He had just returned from the dangerous mission of following the combined band of Kiowas and Comanches as they fled to the southwest with their Cheyenne captives.

  “We are trapped between the sap and the bark,” Gray Thunder said. “No one here wants to get our women and children back more than I. But we are intruders in a hostile land, surrounded by enemy tribes and unscouted country. You heard River of Winds report that he also saw Bluecoat soldiers with their big-talking guns mounted on wagons. If we move as one people, we will surely attract unwanted attention. And in this desolate, open territory, the screaming steel from those guns would be impossible to avoid. Our horses would be shredded to stew meat.”

  His words prodded nods and murmurs of approval from many. Gray Thunder was a still-vigorous chief in his early forties, a veteran of several skirmishes with blue-bloused
soldiers.

  “Yet have we not learned just recently,” he continued, “about the dangers of leaving the noncombatants alone? While the hunters were out, the Kiowas and Comanches killed six of our elders, wounded twelve elders and children, and stole twenty of our women and children! This thing would be examined carefully.

  “Brothers! Yes, we must save our captured women and young ones! What else are warriors for if not to protect their tribe? But we must not destroy the bush to save the berries! Our carelessness during the hunt has already cost us dearly. Now we must act like men and not endanger the others still left to us.”

  The tall, broad-shouldered youth named Touch the Sky felt heat rise into his face at the mention of carelessness. Though Gray Thunder did not point him out for blame, Touch the Sky knew his terrible mistake in judgment had allowed the abduction of Honey Eater and the others. Believing his band had routed the small force of Comanches and Kiowas sent to kidnap prisoners, Touch the Sky had ordered his band to join the main battle well away from the camp.

  But he had only ridden into a decoy—another enemy force was hidden near camp, ready to pounce on the women and children in a lightning raid.

  This council was being held outdoors. Normally, back at their permanent summer camp on the Powder River far to the north, they would meet in the huge, hide-covered council lodge in the center of the camp clearing. But now the tipis were gathered into their defensive clan circles in a temporary hunt camp in the valley of the Red River—far south of their usual hunting grounds in the Wyoming and Montana Territories. Thin strips of buffalo meat were still stretched tight on the wooden drying racks. Everywhere, travois were loaded with the spoils of the hunt: hides for clothing and sleeping robes, horns for cups and bowls, sinews for thread and bowstrings, bones for awls, bladders for water bags, hair for ropes and belts—nothing would be wasted.

  It was old Arrow Keeper who spoke next.

  “Brothers! I feared this hunt, even though a medicine dream told me the kill would be good. We have an abundance of meat now, but at what price? True it is we had no choice but to come here. Our ancient Hunt Law requires us to hunt as a tribe. Yet the paleface crews working on the roads for their iron horses, the crews stringing their talking wires, the buffalo-hiders and soldiers—all these have sent up the white stink and driven the herds south.

  “Brothers! We had no choice. But now we must act carefully so that no more of our women and children are stolen. These Kiowas and Comanches are no tribes to fool with.”

  Touch the Sky nodded with the others. He kept his eyes on the braves named Spotted Tail, leader of the military society known as the Bowstrings, and Lone Bear, leader of the feared and despised Bull Whips. Though Chief Gray Thunder was presiding, the tribe was still officially engaged in the hunt expedition. Thus, normal tribal law gave way to the Hunt Law. And since this hunt was being policed by the Bowstrings and the Bull Whips, Spotted Tail and Lone Bear would be the law-givers and decision-makers until the tribe was back in permanent camp.

  But the young man’s attention shifted to Black Elk when that fierce young war chief rose to speak. The coup feathers in his war bonnet trailed nearly to the ground. It was Honey Eater who had made that war bonnet, Touch the Sky reminded himself. And now she was gone, stolen by enemies thanks, in part, to his mistake.

  “Fathers and brothers!” Black Elk said. “You know me. You have followed me into battle and smoked the common pipe with me. I am no brave to hide in my tipi when my brothers are on the warpath. Nor am I one to speak merely for the sake of noise, as the whites do.”

  His eyes met Touch the Sky’s, and for the space of several heartbeats everyone present felt the hatred between the two bucks. Again Touch the Sky felt an involuntary inner shudder when he saw the dead, leathery flap of skin where Black Elk’s ear had been severed in battle, then sewn back on crudely with buckskin thread.

  “So I will speak words you may place in your sashes and take away with you,” Black Elk continued. “After hearing River of Winds, I say our chief speaks wisely when he tells us a large war party would not do. We are northern Plainsmen, used to meeting our enemy in open battle. But these drunken, murdering dogs to the south prefer nighttime raids and swift attacks from hidden positions.

  “Therefore, I will lead a small band of our best warriors, just as I did when I led the defeat at the whiskey traders’ camp. Not only am I your war leader and a Bull Whip trooper, but these Kiowa and Comanche dogs have stolen my squaw! I have a husband’s right and will rescue Honey Eater and the rest. I will ride with my cousin Wolf Who Hunts Smiling, Swift Canoe, and a few of my fellow Bull Whips.

  “Kiowa guts will string our next bows! Comanche hair will dangle from our coup sticks! We are the fighting Cheyenne! We have defeated the Pawnee, the Ute, the Crow, and our battle cry is feared throughout the plains. I will defeat this new enemy too, and get Honey Eater and the rest back.”

  Again his eyes met Touch the Sky’s.

  “Any man who blocks my path,” Black Elk said, “will be dead before he hits the ground. My squaw has been stolen, and I swear by the earth I live on, I will get her back!”

  Touch the Sky had heard enough. Honey Eater loved him, not Black Elk, and would be his wife today if she had not been convinced that Touch the Sky had deserted the tribe to be with his white family and Kristen Steele. Since Black Elk had taken to humiliating and beating Honey Eater, Touch the Sky had served warning—it was he who had a husband’s right, not Black Elk. And Touch the Sky could see now that Black Elk’s pride and jealousy would make him a dangerous choice to rescue the others. Now he rose to speak.

  “Yes, a large war party is a bad idea. I too am no stranger to you, fathers and brothers. You honored me in council when I helped save our tribe from Pawnees, and many of you saw me count first coup against the white militia at the Tongue River Battle. So listen now to my words, for you know I speak only one way and never in a wolf bark.” Touch the Sky boldly met the stare of Black Elk’s wily young cousin, Wolf Who Hunts Smiling. He too had recently joined the Bull Whip Society, using his new authority to arrest Touch the Sky during the hunt.

  “You know,” Touch the Sky said, “that no matter how much blood I shed for my tribe, I am marked as an outsider by my enemies. So now I will act like one. I always obey the laws of the Cheyenne way. But in this matter of the rescue, I will follow no one.

  “During the hunt, I was beaten by the Bull Whips after Wolf Who Hunts Smiling claimed I ran the herd over a cliff. Then these two braves”—scorn poison-tipped his words as he looked at Wolf Who Hunts Smiling and Swift Canoe—“bribed an old squaw of the Root Eater’s Clan and convinced her addled brain that she had had a ‘vision,’ one which said I must set up a pole to atone for my violation of Hunt Law or the tribe was doomed.”

  Many braves nodded sympathetically. “Setting up a pole” was a grueling voluntary penance which required the penitent to hang suspended for hours from bone hooks driven through his breasts. Arrow Keeper had learned of the deception and announced it at council. Wolf Who Hunts Smiling and Swift Canoe would be punished for their hand in it, but not until this emergency was settled.

  “After this and many other injustices done to me, I speak now in straight words. Yes, I will obey Cheyenne law. But remember, I belong to no clan, no military society, and have been accused of having the white man’s stink on me. Other than Chief Gray Thunder and our shaman, Arrow Keeper, I have no masters! I have spoken to my friends Little Horse and Tangle Hair, and they have agreed to ride with me. Now that we have heard River of Winds give his report, I ask Spotted Tail, as the Bowstring leader, to grant his permission that these two may accompany me.”

  All eyes turned to the brave who led the Bowstrings. Spotted Tail was known as a fair man, and his Bowstring troopers were respected for their habit of preferring peaceful negotiations to settle disputes. This was in direct contrast to Lone Bear’s Bull Whips, a collection of arrogant, mean-spirited braves who resorted all too often to their feared whips of kno
tted rawhide.

  “Tangle Hair is one of my soldiers,” Spotted Tail said. “One of my best. And Little Horse fights like five braves. And you, Touch the Sky—I have seen you grease your enemy’s bones with war paint! But what can three men do against this huge force, and in the heart of their territory? I too am sickened by the loss of so many women and little ones. But we are warriors and must not let our hearts overrule our heads.”

  “We will show you what three Cheyennes can do,” Touch the Sky replied. “I ask you again, will you grant these two your permission so that they will not be violating Hunt Law? I ask nothing for myself.”

  “Do not worry about me,” Little Horse suddenly said. “I ride with my brother whether or not it has the tribal sanction on it! Tangle Hair is your trooper, Spotted Tail. Authorize him alone.”

  This was followed by a long silence. More and more of the tribe, in their hearts if not publicly, had grown to respect this tall young Cheyenne who came in among them four winters ago dressed in white man’s clothing and ignorant of the Cheyenne way. Not only had they come to admire his battlefield heroics, they had also watched him suffer unjustly in silence during the whipping and the pole torture.

  But still, there was doubt about his loyalty. Had he not drunk whiskey with murdering white dogs at the trading post? Had he not been seen conferring with a Bluecoat officer, holding a sun-haired white girl in his arms? Many at the council today had lost loved ones to the bullets of white men. This Touch the Sky, truly he was one to fight like a she-grizzly with cubs; but deep in his heart he still loved the worst enemy of the red man, the paleface intruders arriving in hordes to exterminate the Indian.

  Finally, Spotted Tail shook his head. This thing was awkward. But a decision had to be made, action must be taken. The camp was in no immediate danger. Well-armed sentries ringed this hunt camp and were in constant communication. But time was their enemy. The longer they remained, the greater their risk.