Wilderness Double Edition #7

by David Robbins

  “I’m about plumb frozen,” Zach mustered manfully, and smiled. “The next time we go elk hunting, can we do it in the summer?”

  Nate’s laugh was longer and louder than it needed to be, but his son apparently didn’t notice. Gazing about, Nate was overjoyed to find that someone—Indians, most likely—had sheltered here once before. Near a back corner lay the charred remains of a fire, and beside it were a dozen or so branches that had been gathered but not used. In addition, a number of weeds had taken root near the entrance, and although they were now brown and withered, they were dry and would burn readily.

  Working swiftly, Nate pulled out handfuls of the weeds and hurried to the corner. Making a circular bed of the weeds, he properly arranged some of the branches on top, using the limbs sparingly, acutely aware the limited supply might have to last them quite a while.

  From his possibles bag he took his flint and steel and tinderbox. Bending down, he prepared a small bed of punk, which consisted of dry, decayed maple wood he had collected over the summer. Next he proceeded to strike the steel against the flint to cause showers of sparks to fall on the tinder. Once he saw it catch, he carefully fanned the infant flames with his breath, nursing them to life.

  “You’re doing it, Pa!” Zach cried at his side.

  The tinder caught, the flames grew, and Nate added bits of dry weed, feeding the hungry fire. Presently one of the branches also burst into flames, and soon light and spreading warmth filled the cleft.

  “I never saw a fire look so good,” Zach said.

  “Me neither,” Nate agreed, and cast a glance filled with misgivings at the opening. Outside, the wind continued to wail, the snow continued to fall. The full magnitude of their predicament hit him, and he realized with a start that his son had been right. This was no ordinary snowstorm. It was a full-fledged blizzard.

  Six

  The giant pounded his chest with a brawny fist and angrily declared, “There is an easy solution to the problem. I will challenge Jumping Bull, and when we fight I will cut out his heart and feed it to my dogs.”

  A period of silence ensued as everyone in the lodge exchanged glances. Winona looked at their host, her uncle Spotted Bull, who had called together their immediate relatives and closest friends so the grave situation facing them could be discussed at length and a course of action decided upon. A venerable warrior who had lived over fifty winters, Spotted Bull was not one to let raw emotion eclipse his seasoned wisdom.

  “It is all well and good to talk of killing the fool, my son,” he now said, resting his hand on the shoulder of the giant. “Many of us would like to do the same. But we must be discreet. This affair must be handled delicately.”

  Touch the Clouds snorted. “Was Jumping Bull discreet when he brazenly demanded that Winona leave Grizzly Killer and go live with him? Was he discreet when he went out and told everyone what he had done and bragged of how he would humiliate Grizzly Killer if Grizzly Killer objected?” He paused, then answered his own question. “No, he was not! He has not only insulted Grizzly Killer and Winona, he has also insulted all of us who call them our friends. I say let me kill him and be done with it.”

  Winona scanned the faces of those present, gauging their feelings. Beside her sat Willow Woman, her cousin, whose worry was evident. On her other side was Spotted Bull’s wife, Morning Dove, her features grave. And the majority of the men were equally somber. Besides Spotted Bull and Touch the Clouds, there were Lame Elk, one of the oldest men in the tribe, and younger warriors: Drags the Rope, He Who Rides Standing, Paints His Ears Red, and others.

  It was Lame Elk who spoke next, and everyone gave him their attention. “It is rare that one man tries to take the wife of another,” he mentioned. “In all the time I have lived, I have only seen this happen once before, and that was when Raven Wing tried to take Nape of the Neck’s woman. There was much bloodshed, and in the end the woman wanted nothing to do with either of them and went to live with someone else.”

  “I will never leave Grizzly Killer,” Winona boldly stated. Normally at such councils the men did all the talking. A woman never volunteered anything unless specifically asked to do so. But she could not sit there and say nothing when her entire future was at stake.

  “We all know that,” Lame Elk said, bestowing a smile on her. “Not one of us here doubts your love for him or his love for you. But your love is not the issue. The issue is what we must do about Jumping Bull’s unwanted advances.”

  “Grizzly Killer will be back soon,” remarked Drags the Rope, who had been Nate’s friend longer than any of the others, “and then none of us will have to do a thing. He will put Jumping Bull in his place.”

  “Until then we must protect Winona,” Spotted Bull said. “Jumping Bull might become impatient and try to drag her off against her will. He has a violent temper. We all know how he used to beat his first wife.”

  “Maybe he will change his mind and nothing will come of this,” Paints His Ears Red, the youngest warrior present, remarked.

  “Jumping Bull is not one to turn back from something he has started,” Spotted Bull said.

  Lame Elk leaned forward. “There is more involved here than his interest in Winona, which might be genuine, although I have my doubts.”

  “What do you mean?” Touch the Clouds interjected. “Has it not struck any of you as strange that Jumping Bull has shown no interest in Winona before?” Lame Elk said. “And if he wants a new wife so badly, why pick a woman who has pledged herself to someone else? There are many unmarried women who would be happy to share his lodge.”

  “So?” Touch the Clouds prompted.

  “Think about it,” said Lame Elk. “How many times have you heard Jumping Bull say that it is a mistake to be friendly with the whites? How many times has he spoken in councils and urged our people to fight the whites and drive them from our land?”

  “Many times,” said Spotted Bull.

  “He hates all whites with a blinding hatred,” Lame Elk said. “And he is not alone. There are a few others who share his sentiments. They have never treated Grizzly Killer as one of us and never will. Some of them have gone so far as to say in council that we should turn our backs on him and not allow him to live with us now and again as we do.”

  No one said anything for a while. Winona, along with the rest, was deep in thought, contemplating the implications of the old warrior’s statements. Fresh in her mind were Jumping Bull’s words: “A white man is no fit husband for a beautiful woman like you.”

  Spotted Bull voiced the thoughts they all shared. “So the real reason behind Jumping Bull’s despicable conduct is that he wants to provoke Grizzly Killer into a fight and kill him.”

  “Such would be my guess,” Lame Elk said. “He may truly desire Winona, but he is using his desire to justify his hatred. He hopes that when Grizzly Killer returns and learns that he has been courting Winona, Grizzly Killer will go after him. Which Grizzly Killer will. Then Jumping Bull can kill him and claim he had to do it in self-defense.”

  “The bastard!” Touch the Clouds said. “We should report this to the Yellow Noses.”

  The suggestion sparked hope in Winona’s breast. Like many another tribe, the Shoshones boasted certain special societies for both men and women, among them the Yellow Noses, an elite group including only the bravest of warriors. Among their many functions was the policing of the village and the maintaining of order when the Shoshones were on the march. If disputes arose, the Yellow Noses settled them, and their decisions were final. Any warrior who opposed them was liable to be beaten, perhaps have his weapons confiscated or broken, or have his lodge cut to pieces. They had the authority to tell Jumping Bull to leave Nate and her alone, which would end the whole matter. But the next moment Winona’s hope was dashed by Lame Elk.

  “No, we cannot go to the Yellow Noses. I will tell you why.” His craggy features were downcast. “The Yellow Noses can only act when tribal rules have been broken, such as when a man goes off and hunts alone even thoug
h the word has been given that we will make a surround. And this is as it should be, for a man who does that might scare off all the game and leave the rest of the village hungry.” He sighed and gazed sadly at Winona. “But there is no rule against one man taking another’s wife if he can convince the woman to go with him. So long as he does not assault her husband, he does nothing wrong.”

  “So you are saying we must sit back and do nothing?” Touch the Clouds inquired in disgust.

  “Our people have always been free to do as they want so long as they do not harm others,” Lame Elk said. “This is as it should be.”

  “So we do nothing?” Touch the Clouds said harshly.

  “I am afraid so,” Lame Elk said. “Unless Jumping Bull harms Winona, we are powerless. Grizzly Killer must deal with this himself when he gets back.”

  Touch the Clouds looked at Spotted Bull. “And you, Father? What do you say?”

  “I am sorry. I must agree with Lame Elk.”

  Winona averted her face so none could see the sorrow and disappointment reflected in her eyes. Accustomed as she was to handling her problems herself, it had been hard for her to confide in her cousin, Willow Woman, and even harder to agree to a council after Willow Woman had gone and informed her father, Spotted Bull.

  “Do not fear, Winona,” Spotted Bull now said. “We will make it known that Jumping Bull must answer to us if he lays a hand on you before your husband returns. He will not dare bother you.”

  ~*~

  Twilight covered the village as, a short while later, Winona made her slow way toward her lodge, her heart heavy at the outcome of the meeting. Despite the sympathy and the promises her relatives and friends had voiced, she knew that she was on her own. It had been foolish, she reflected, to expect them to resolve the situation for her. They had their own lives to live. A grown woman had no business running to others when trouble presented itself. What would Nate think of her behavior?

  Ironically, it was on his behalf that Winona had swallowed her pride and done the unthinkable. She knew her husband’s temperament, knew he would tear into Jumping Bull the moment he heard what had transpired. Neither of them would give any quarter; one or the other would die. And while she had complete confidence in Nate’s prowess, she had heard about too many outstanding fighters who had been killed by unworthy adversaries not to worry about him. All it would take was a single misstep or a fleeting instant of distraction and Nate might be slain.

  Suddenly her pondering came to an end. A shadow had detached itself from between two nearby lodges and fallen into step at her elbow. “I would walk with you,” Jumping Bull said.

  “Go walk off a cliff,” Winona responded bitterly, slanting to the left so their arms would not brush together.

  “I have important words to say.”

  “Tell them to a tree.”

  “You will listen,” Jumping Bull declared, and seized hold of her wrist.

  Red rage transformed Winona into a furious she-wolf. She whirled, yanking her wrist free, and snarled spitefully, “Don’t touch me! Don’t ever touch me.”

  Something in her tone made Jumping Bull take a step backward. He saw her hatred, saw her fingers clenched like claws, and for a moment he believed she was about to spring on him. Instinctively he went to raise an arm to strike her across the face and put her in her place. Then, awakening to the gravity of the error he was about to commit, he let the arm drop. She was not his yet.

  “If you ever lay a hand on me again I will not wait for my husband to slay you,” she said. “I will do it myself.”

  “Calm down so we can talk without arguing,” Jumping Bull coaxed.

  “Do not waste your breath,” Winona responded. Pivoting, she stalked off. She was so mad she trembled. Her right hand touched the knife on her hip and she closed her fingers on the hilt.

  “Very well,” Jumping Bull said. “If you do not want to hear how bloodshed can be avoided, do as you please.”

  Winona stopped, her curiosity contending with her loathing of the vile animal who presumed to try and steal her affections from the man she loved. Reluctantly, suspecting she was somehow playing into Jumping Bull’s hands, she turned. “Explain.”

  “I thought you might like to have the white dog’s life spared and I have a way it can be done.”

  “Try talking with a straight tongue for once.”

  The corners of the husky warrior’s mouth curved upward. “If you will agree to come with me, right this moment, I will let your husband live.”

  “What game is this you are playing?” Winona snapped. “You already know how I feel. But since you seem to have your ears plugged with wax, I will tell you again so there will be no mistake.” Lightning danced in her eyes. “I will never, ever live with you. I would rather open my wrists first. And from now until my husband comes back, I will keep a loaded pistol at my side. If you dare bother me again, I will use it.”

  Rolling Thunder’s features clouded. Everyone in the village knew her white bastard of a husband had taught her how to use the weapons of the whites, and it was said she could hit a mark twenty yards away dead center ten times out of ten. He moved toward her, his muscular arms tensing. “Then I shall see to it that you never reach your pistol. I will take you with me now.”

  “Try!” Winona cried, the single word a ringing challenge.

  “Yes,” spoke a deep voice from the darkness. “Why not try, Jumping Bull, and see what happens next?”

  In a blur, Jumping Bull spun, his right hand dropping to the tomahawk at his waist, a malevolent scowl twisting his countenance. “You!” he blurted.

  “Yes, me,” Touch the Clouds declared as he strolled forward to stand next to Winona. So huge was he that next to him she seemed a little girl by comparison. “I heard the words you spoke.”

  “What of them?” Jumping Bull snapped, prudently easing his hand from the tomahawk. He was no fool. The weapon would make no difference at all in a clash between them; he stood absolutely no chance against the giant. With his own eyes he had once witnessed a fight between Touch the Clouds and three Sioux in which the giant had slain them without working up a sweat. Another time he had seen Touch the Clouds, armed with just a war club, slay a panther half the size of a bear. Only someone with a death wish would confront the giant alone.

  “You can thank your guardian spirit that my father has made me give my word that I will not kill you before Grizzly Killer returns,” Touch the Clouds stated sternly, “or you would now be lying in a puddle of your own blood.”

  Jumping Bull glanced toward Spotted Bull’s lodge. “Your father made you make such a promise?” he asked in scarcely concealed delight.

  “Regrettably, yes.” Touch the Clouds rested a hand on Winona’s shoulder. “But if you persist in molesting this dear woman, who is like a sister to me, I will be strongly tempted to do something I have never done before. I just might break my promise and gut you like the cur you are.”

  A hot retort was on Jumping Bull’s lips, but he held his temper in check. This development, he reflected, was too good to be believed. His main worry had been that friends of King’s would interfere with his plan, and of them all Touch the Clouds was the one to fear the most. But not anymore.

  It was obvious the giant was restraining himself with an effort. His enormous fists clenched and unclenched as he said, “My father and others are of the opinion that this is a matter strictly between Grizzly Killer and you. Against my better judgment, I have gone along with them.” His voice lowered. “But heed my words, Jumping Bull. I will not stand by and let you have your way with Winona. She is Grizzly Killer’s woman, not yours, and knowing her as I do, I know she will be his until the day he dies.”

  “Which may not be far off,” Jumping Bull could not resist saying. Drawing himself to his full height, he gestured at Winona and said, “But let us not argue over a matter that does not, as your wise father has decided, concern you. I would honor Winona by taking her into my lodge. For the time being, her misguided loyalt
y to someone who does not deserve her love has clouded her thinking. I am confident, though, she will come around to my way of thinking eventually. And when she does, and she is my wife, I hope the two of us can be friends.”

  Winona had listened to all she was going to. Turning to Touch the Clouds, she asked, “Would you do me the favor of walking me to my lodge?”

  “Gladly,” the giant rumbled.

  Side by side they moved off. Behind them a mocking laugh came on the chill breeze.

  A shiver rippled down Winona’s spine, but whether from the cold or her reaction to Jumping Bull’s arrogance, she could not say. Then she realized she could see her breath, and pausing, she gazed to the northwest. A vast bank of ugly gray clouds were roiling their frenzied way toward the valley in which the encampment lay.

  “We are in for some snow,” Touch the Clouds noted absently.

  Winona was thinking of her husband and her son. What if they had been caught in a storm? She reminded herself that Nate’s woodcraft was the equal of any Shoshone’s, that he knew how to survive in the very worst weather. Still, as she well knew, there were always many things that could go wrong. A flickering wave of anxiety washed over her and she pressed a hand to her bosom.

  Touch the Clouds, misunderstanding, remarked, “You need not fear Jumping Bull for now. He will not do anything until after Grizzly Killer comes back.”

  “I hope not,” Winona said, continuing toward her lodge.

  “If you want, I will keep watch over you until then.”

  “Think of the talk!” Winona replied, trying to be lighthearted. “Every gossip in the village would wear out her tongue telling about it. And I do not think your wife would like that very much.”

  “My wife knows I would never dishonor her,” the giant said rather defensively.

  “As do I,” Winona acknowledged, touching his arm. “We have been friends since childhood, and I know there is nothing you would not do for me. But I cannot allow you to put yourself in such a position.”