The Buffalo's Last Stand

by Stephen Bly

He’s going to try it from the offside again.

  “No!” Retta pointed to the left side of the horse. “He bucks when you try to mount up from over there.”

  He glared at her and started to mount.

  “No!” she warned again.

  She had no idea what he said back to her, but she knew he was mad.

  He shoved his foot into the right side stirrup.

  Retta puffed out her cheeks.

  As soon as his left leg swung over the saddle, the tall black horse began to buck. This time he snorted as he dropped his head and whinnied as he tossed it back. After three wild bucks, he reached the water’s edge. He yanked his head forward, pulling Tall Owl down over his head. Then he jerked his head straight back, slamming it into Tall Owl’s forehead.

  The collision exploded like the bursting of a barn board in a tornado. Tall Owl tumbled facedown into the shallow water, hit his head on a rock, and didn’t move. The pony scurried back to the little clearing.

  Retta dropped straight down off her horse and let the reins fall to the ground. She ran over to the Indian. “Tall Owl? Popa?”

  Lord, is he dead? He will be if his head stays underwater. It was an accident. He’s a very mean man, but...

  She waded out and tugged on his arm until she rolled him on his back. Retta took a flat rock and propped it under the back of his head, raising his face above water. Then she yanked the soaking-wet revolver out of his belt and removed the big knife from the sheath at his side.

  I wonder if this powder got too wet to fire?

  Retta used both thumbs to tug back the hammer of the .45-caliber revolver and pointed it in the air.

  There was a loud, disappointing click.

  She cocked it again with the same result.

  She popped two fingers in her mouth to whistle, then paused, and cocked the gun again. This time when she pulled the trigger, the gun blast exploded above her head. She dropped the gun, stumbled back, and sprawled on her rear in the shallow water. She held the big knife straight out in front of her as she heard someone running toward her out of the brush.

  Chapter Six

  William crashed through the brush and reached her first. “Retta, are you hurt?”

  Mr. Barre raced past him and scooped her out of the water with his arms. “Darlin’, oh, darlin’, what happened?” He kissed her forehead as tears trickled down his cheeks.

  “It’s okay, Papa, I just tripped and fell back in the water. I’m wet, but I’m not hurt really.”

  Two Bears splashed out and bent down next to the unconscious Tall Owl. He rubbed his smooth chin. “I don’t suppose you shot him or stabbed him, Red Bear. I don’t see any blood.”

  Mr. Barre set Retta down on the riverbank. The wet buckskin dress hung heavy on her back. Her moccasins were cold and damp. “He’s a very stubborn man. Ansley’s horse refuses to be mounted offside. Tall Owl fell off when the horse’s head reared back and crashed into his. All I did was turn him over and prop his head out of the water.”

  Two Bears examined the Arapaho from head to foot. “Why did you do that?”

  Retta put her hands on her hips. “Because I didn’t want him to drown—that’s why.”

  Hugh MacGregor strode to the riverbank, Ansley at his side. The others trotted behind them.

  “Retta, what did you do to him?” Ansley asked.

  “She used an old Shoshone trick,” Two Bears replied. “She spooked the horse and let him take care of Tall Owl.”

  “You did?” Ansley marveled.

  “Sort of,” Retta replied.

  “Looks like we have company.” Bobcat pointed across the river as the Cheyenne waded toward them. “The rest of you stay back. Me, Two Bears, and Missy will palaver with them.”

  Retta squatted on the bank of the river with the two men and waited as the Cheyenne approached. They ignored the unconscious Tall Owl, and the one with the scarred chest spoke to Two Bears.

  “What did he say?” Retta whispered to Bouchet.

  “He wants to know who to thank for deliverin’ the blow to Tall Owl.”

  Two Bears pointed to Retta.

  The three Cheyenne stared at Retta, nodded, and spoke rapidly.

  “Are they talking about me?” she quizzed.

  Bouchet chewed on the stem of his unlit clay pipe. “Seems they are very impressed with Two Bears’ daughter. They want to know your name.”

  She waited for Two Bears to answer.

  Bouchet chuckled.

  “What’s so funny?” she whispered.

  “Two Bears said you were named Red Bear because you have such a pure heart.”

  “He did?”

  The one with the scarred chest delivered a long monologue. When he finished, he pointed for Two Bears to talk to Retta. The Shoshone scooted over to her and turned his back to the Cheyenne. His voice was low.

  “What do they want?” she asked.

  “Dance-with-the-Sun, the one with the scars, is the chief’s oldest son. He has a younger brother. He wants to know if you will be the young brother’s wife.”

  “What? His wife?”

  “That’s what he said, Red Bear.”

  “But—but—I’m only twelve years old,” she stammered.

  There was absolutely no emotion in Two Bears’ face. “The brother is only fourteen.”

  Retta felt her throat tighten. She puffed out her cheeks hard and laced her hands on top of her head. “But I’m not even Indian,” she blurted out.

  “No, but they think you are,” Two Bears replied.

  “You ain’t serious about this,” Bouchet interjected.

  Retta scratched in the packed mud at her feet. “I’m not going to marry some chief’s son.”

  Two Bears pointed to the mud. “Yes, that is good. A Shoshone like you should not marry the Cheyenne. But it is an honor to be asked. A refusal must be carefully worded.”

  Retta peered over Two Bears’ shoulder at the Cheyenne men. “Why did they have to ask me? Why don’t they just go away?”

  “Because they have seen your bravery in action. They are very impressed,” Two Bears reported.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The proof is there in the water. You delivered Tall Owl to them. The Cheyenne do not impress easily. They say you are very courageous for a Shoshone.”

  “Didn’t you explain how it happened?”

  “I merely told them they were very wise for Cheyenne.” Two Bears drew in the mud. “You will need to give them an answer, Red Bear.”

  Retta chewed on her lip. I can stand up and say, ‘I’m not an Indian.’ Or I could run back to Papa. Lord, how come everything I do seems to get me in more and more trouble?

  “Red Bear?” Two Bears prompted.

  “Well ... well ... tell them ... tell them they have seen my bravery, but I have not seen the chief’s youngest son’s bravery, so I won’t even consider it. The man I marry must have as brave and pure a heart as mine.”

  Two Bears turned back around and spoke to the Cheyenne. She could see his dark eyes shine as he spoke. All three men smiled. They seemed to nod their heads in unison as Two Bears explained. Then Dance-with-the-Sun spoke.

  Bobcat whispered to her, “He said you are not only brave but very wise. He’s quite impressed. He said if he didn’t already have two wives who fight all the time, he would take you for his wife also.”

  Retta’s mouth dropped open. “But—but ... he’s too old.”

  Bouchet patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Missy. He also said his younger brother was not very brave, and you were correct to answer as you did.”

  Dance-with-the-Sun pulled a stone hammer from his belt. Rawhide strips bound a big, smooth river rock to the end of a foot-long bone handle. There was a rabbit collar next to the rock, with a short string of beads and a feather dangling down. A rawhide wrist strap hung from the handle. Tiny turquoise and green beads covered the handle’s end.

  Dance-with-the-Sun shoved the strange object at Retta.

  “He wants
you to have it,” Bouchet whispered.

  “Take it and hold it to your heart and look down at the dirt,” Two Bears instructed.

  She did as she was told.

  “What is it?” she murmured.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Bobcat said. “Do like Two Bears said. Keep your eyes down.”

  The Cheyenne stood. Two Bears motioned for Retta and Bobcat to stand with him. More words were spoken.

  Dance-with-the-Sun reached over and put his hand on Retta’s shoulder.

  “Look up slowly. Do not smile. Nod your head,” Two Bears said.

  Retta looked into the dark brown eyes of the Cheyenne and nodded. Lord Jesus, help me, because I don’t know what I’m doing. I haven’t known what I was doing all day. This man has scars inside of him to match those on his chest. I can see it in his eyes.

  The three Cheyenne warriors spun around and walked over to the unconscious Indian. They grabbed Tall Owl’s legs and proceeded to drag him across the river, with his head bouncing in and out of the water.

  “He could drown,” Retta said anxiously.

  “I reckon that’s the least of his worries.” Bobcat put his hand on her shoulder. “You did very good, Missy. You’ve got more Indian sense than a hundred politicians back in Washington.”

  “Red Bear is a very smart young lady,” Two Bears added. “It is her Shoshone blood.”

  “But I don’t have any Shoshone blood,” she grinned. “Or maybe I do.”

  “What did they want,” Ansley called out, “besides the awful Indian?”

  “They wanted Missy to marry the chief’s son,” Bobcat informed her.

  “But that can’t be,” Ansley gasped, her hands on her hips. “I can’t believe this. He asked you to marry someone? I’m thirteen, and no one has ever asked me to marry him.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing,” Mr. MacGregor huffed.

  “But—but Retta’s only twelve, and—and she’s so...

  Retta grinned. “Plain as a pumpkin seed?”

  Ansley rolled her eyes. Finally she grinned. “Did I really say that about you?”

  “More than once, I believe.”

  Ansley reached out her hand. Retta hesitated for a moment. Then she reached out and took Ansley’s hand.

  “Sometimes I do and say things really dumb,” Ansley admitted. “Thank you for getting me out of that jam. I was so scared. I really thought I was going to die.”

  “It just seemed like the right thing to do,” Retta murmured.

  “I don’t know if I would even know the right thing to do,” Ansley said. “It’s been a long time since I even asked.”

  “Come on,” Bobcat called out. “Let’s get our horses. We have a wagon train to catch.”

  Mr. Barre turned to Two Bears. “You and your family are welcome to join the wagon train. I understand you’re going to Fort Bridger.”

  “I will discuss it with them. If the Cheyenne take Tall Owl and depart, we might just continue to shadow you.”

  “But you would be welcome with us,” Retta called out.

  “Some of your friends might not be able to tell a Shoshone from an Arapaho or Cheyenne,” Two Bears explained.

  Bouchet mounted his horse. “He’s got a point there, Missy.”

  Shy Bear rode over to her. The Indian girl reached down and handed her a leather headband with a feather. Retta retrieved the pansy-plum bonnet and handed it to Shy Bear.

  The Indian girl pulled it on her head and grinned. Her waist-length black hair hung down her back. She blurted out one word.

  “What did she say? I’ve never heard her speak before.”

  “She said, ‘sister,’” Bouchet reported.

  “Yes, oh yes.” Retta clapped. “And you are my sister.”

  She watched Two Bears and his family ride south. Then she mounted up behind her father. Retta held the hammer in her right hand and gripped his leather suspenders with her left.

  “Darlin’, I think that’s enough excitement for a while. Perhaps you should stay a little closer to the wagon from now on,” Mr. Barre cautioned.

  “I prayed that if the Lord would deliver me, I would go to the wagon and hide under the quilt all the way to Oregon.”

  “Tough to do your chores under there,” her father pointed out. “Perhaps you could come out from time to time.”

  Retta felt the rhythm of the horse beneath her and reached back and patted the chestnut gelding’s rump. “I suppose it would be all right if I helped you and Mama out a bit from time to time.”

  Mr. Barre rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand as if trying to make the wrinkles disappear. “Everything turned out fine, darlin’. And your sweet mama don’t need to hear all the details. It would be a worry to her.”

  “I can hear Mama now.” William grinned as he spurred his horse alongside them. ‘“Eugene, I will not let my daughter be put in such danger again. Is that understood?”’

  Mr. Barre laughed. “That’s true, son. I’m convinced you children have one of the finest mamas God ever created.”

  “She’s been feeling poorly enough lately,” Retta commented.

  “Yep, but we all know that she’ll pull out of it. She always does,” Mr. Barre assured them.

  “Can I tell Mama about Dance-with-the-Sun asking me to marry his younger brother?”

  “I reckon you’ll have to, since Ansley will spread your story up and down the train, no matter what you say or don’t say.”

  They rode south of the meandering river, crossed the wagon tracks, and then turned west. Retta studied the distant northern river bluffs. She thought she saw movement, but she couldn’t tell if it was the Cheyenne or merely antelope.

  “Papa, what’s going to happen to Tall Owl?” Retta asked.

  Mr. Barre pushed his hat back. “I reckon whatever the Cheyenne think is just and fair.”

  “Will they torture him? Will they kill him?”

  “They might. Every group of people has its own system of punishment. It’s called justice.”

  Retta bit her lip. “I’m worried about him.”

  “He’s a murderer,” Mr. Barre stated.

  “I know that’s what they say, but I never saw him murder anyone. I just feel funny about it.”

  “Darlin’, there are some things we have to leave with the Lord. He likes righteousness to be rewarded and wickedness punished. I reckon He will understand any group of people who aim for that.”

  “Tall Owl’s going to hate me forever.”

  “Darlin’, why don’t you pray Tall Owl will get the exact punishment his crime deserves,” her father suggested. “That’s what the Lord’s justice is all about.”

  “But grace is getting better than we deserve.”

  “Yep, that’s right.”

  Retta sat up straight as she bounced along with the horse’s gait. “I’ll pray Tall Owl will receive justice and grace.”

  Mr. Barre tugged his wide-brimmed hat down low in the front. “That’s my girl. Would you feel better if we had turned him over to a U.S. marshal, and he had been convicted and hung?”

  “Yeah, I would.”

  “Well, darlin’, we did the same thing. This is a different culture. And it’s their land. So they follow their ways. I reckon old Tall Owl knew what would happen if he were captured.”

  The brown, grass-covered prairie rose in a swell ahead of them so they could only see a few hundred yards ahead. The scene was motionless except for their horses and silent except for clopping hooves and muted conversations. Retta noticed the men pull off their hats, and she scanned the trail until she spied four grave markers near the wagon ruts.

  “Those are the first graves we’ve seen since Chimney Rock,” she murmured.

  “Mr. Bouchet says they’ll get thicker as we go further west,” William said.

  “Remember how we used to stop and cry at the graves? Now we just ride past and tip our hats,” she added.

  “Only the body gets buried, darlin’. The people are not really there,” Mr.
Barre explained.

  “I know, Papa, but it’s still so sad to think they are buried out here and their families moved on.” After a few moments, she said, “I hope Mama is feeling better today.”

  Mr. Barre reached back and patted her shoulder. “Now, baby, I don’t want my Shoshone princess to worry too much.”

  Retta grinned. “You always tell me I’m getting as tan as an Indian.”

  “Now you believe me.”

  “I think I brown faster than Mama and Lerryn.”

  “Those two won’t let the sun touch any part of their body.”

  “I think the boys like girls with pale skin best.”

  “Only the boys with pale skin. I hear the brown boys find you quite charming.”

  “Papa! You’re teasing me.”

  “Yes, baby. Don’t ever change. You are perfect the way you are.”

  William rode close and pointed toward Retta’s hand. “Tell me about the stone hammer you got, li’l sis.”

  “It’s my present from Dance-with-the-Sun.”

  “Which one was he?”

  “The one with the scars on his chest. Did you see him?”

  “Don’t reckon I looked them over too close,” William admitted. “So what do you do with it? Drive tent pegs?”

  “Mr. Bouchet said it’s a coup stick,” Retta informed him.

  “Coo? You mean, like a dove?”

  “That’s how it sounds, but I don’t think it has anything to do with doves.”

  “It’s spelled c - o - u - p. The p is silent. So it’s pronounced coo,” Mr. Barre reported.

  Ansley rode back to them. “Retta, do you want to ride with me?”

  Retta looked at her in surprise. Never in my life did Ansley MacGregor want me to ride with her. I wonder what she wants?

  “Please, Retta, I want to talk to you about your Indian friends.”

  “Papa, can I ride with Ansley? I want to ride up to Mr. Bouchet and ask him about my coup stick. He said he’d explain it to me.”

  “I reckon so, but that is about as far as I want you out of my sight.”

  Retta slipped off her father’s horse. She reached up and grabbed Ansley’s outstretched arm and pulled herself up behind the saddle.

  I didn’t know Ansley had such strong arms, and yet she smells pretty like Lerryn.