The Reckoning

by Mike Torreano

  The professor held up a hand. “I say, Ike, just a moment. What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m gonna try to take ’em by surprise. You two lead ’em on up the hillside and when I make my move, turn around and ride back here and help me take ’em down.”

  The professor interrupted. “I have an idea, Ike. Why don’t I go off the trail here with you? Rob can take all three horses up the hill to deceive the Indians, and I will be able to provide you with some additional assistance.”

  Ike nodded. “Fine.”

  The professor dismounted and handed his reins to Rob. He followed as Ike limped toward the large rock and disappeared behind it.

  Rob led the horses away up the forested hillside as two Indians broke out of the willows below. Their ponies made quick, surefooted work of the rise and were soon up in the trees. Rob made enough noise in the darkened distance up ahead so the Indians would hear him and follow. They kicked their horses into a gallop. As the two braves passed the rock Ike was crouched on, he leaped on the second Indian and knocked him off his horse. They thudded to the ground together, but as Ike rose, the Indian didn’t. He lay senseless next to a rock he’d hit with his head. The other brave wheeled back and leaped off his horse. He made straight for Ike with a bloodcurdling cry and a tomahawk raised high. A shot rang out from the rock, and the weapon flew from the Indian’s hand, but the warrior kept coming.

  Ike hadn’t regained his feet yet when the second Indian hit him chest high and flung him to the ground again. Ike tripped him as the Indian charged, and they rolled in the dirt like madmen. Rob hurried the horses back down the slope and drew his gun. Ike’s combat skills came in handy as he subdued the second Indian. With a hand to the brave’s throat, Ike drew his Colt and cocked it no more than two inches from the Indian’s face.

  “Get up!” Ike motioned with his weapon. “Get up.”

  Ike lifted himself off the Indian and glanced at the other brave, still motionless on the ground.

  “Let’s get out of here, Ike,” Rob said.

  “Can’t just leave these two. That one over there is hurt real bad. Knocked himself out, or worse.” Ike bent down beside him and checked his neck for a pulse. “Dammit. Ain’t much of a heartbeat. If we don’t get him back to his village, he’ll die.”

  The professor interrupted. “Getting him back to his village does not sound like a good proposition for us.”

  “What should we do, Ike?” Rob sounded every bit the younger brother.

  Ike picked up a small rock and flung it down the hill, then looked down at the two Indians. “Like I said, we’re gonna have to get both of ’em back to the village.” He gazed at the second Indian. The brave’s hand was a bloody mess from the professor’s bullet. “We’re not gonna just kill ’em and leave ’em here.”

  Rob said, “They would’ve killed us, Ike. Just leave ’em. At least we know this is the right valley.”

  “No. If we leave ’em, this one with the hand will just ride back and let his whole camp know there’s three white men nearby. No, we were always gonna have to get into the Indian village one way or another—this just gives me a reason for doin’ it now.”

  “Wait just a moment, Ike. You are not thinking that we will ride right into camp with these Indians, are you?” The professor wore an astonished look.

  “No, I wasn’t thinkin’ that, Hugh. You all wouldn’t be the ones to ride in, I’d be the one doin’ the ridin’ in. In the meantime, you two circle on up to that rim over there and watch the camp from the heights. Keep an eye out for Buster, or Sue. Don’t know for sure that either one’s in camp, but it seems likely that one or both are.” He paused and looked down the broad valley. “Or were.”

  Ike, that is the worst plan I ever heard of. Rob, can’t you talk some sense into your brother?”

  “He ain’t never had much sense, Professor. Once he makes his mind up about somethin’, it’s like he goes deaf and dumb. In this case, real dumb.”

  They lifted the limp brave up over his horse and tied the other one’s hands to his saddle horn. Ike wrapped the unconscious Indian’s reins around the other brave’s horn and motioned for the Indian to move out down toward the stream.

  “Why’re we goin’ back down to the water?” Rob looked confused.

  The professor picked up on the reason. “I would guess that the clue to which way the Indian village is from here, is down by the stream. When we see the direction of their horse prints, then we will know which way we should ride.”

  Ike nodded. He nudged Ally into a steady walk down the slope. After examining the unshod tracks, Ike looked to the south, where the valley floor fell away slightly in the distance. “Let’s go.”

  They rode down the basin for a couple more hours before Ike called a halt. “The mountains ahead are gettin’ closer, so the camp can’t be very far now. You two head on up that plateau, and find a place to scout the village from. Take my food. I figure I ain’t gonna need it.” He handed his saddlebag to Rob. “If you see Sue or Buster in the village, try to figure out a way to slip into camp and get ’em out.” He said it in such an offhand way that he almost believed that was something they could do.

  The professor said, “What about you, Ike?”

  “Once I get inside camp, I reckon I’ll know soon enough if either one of ’em is there. If two days go by and you ain’t seen ’em, and I’m not back by then, head on back to Cottonwood and I’ll join you when I can.”

  The professor stared at Ike. “You must know that it is highly unlikely you will ever leave the village alive once you enter.”

  Ike touched his hat brim, nudged Ally, and started toward the encampment with the two Indians.

  Rob called out from behind. “Take care of yourself, Ike.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  After finding Buster alive, Sue tended to him daily, and he began to recover. One day, Rain Water stepped into the dugout. Sue retreated to a corner of the dirt hollow. The young chief glared at the man he thought was dead. “You should have died, white man. Now you will face the gauntlet again, and you will not survive this time.” Buster stared up at the Indian from the cavern floor. Rain Water turned on his heel, threw back the hide-covered cavern opening, and disappeared.

  “Don’t know as how we’re gonna get out of this jam,” he said to Sue. “You should’ve let me die. Rain Water’s right. I surely won’t survive the gauntlet again.”

  Sue said, “Don’t you think on that. You’ve made it this far, just hang on. We’ll think of something.”

  “Glad you’re so sure. I lost all my ‘sure’ when I was starin’ down those two rows of braves, and I ain’t got it back yet.”

  Caring for Buster came at a price for Sue. She still hadn’t fully recovered from her own bullet wound and was fighting an infection as well. Buster could see what little reserve she had was just about gone.

  “You don’t need to take care of me no more, Sue. If you been hopin’ I’d start lookin’ better than this, then forget it. This is as good as I’ve ever looked. Thank you for always bein’ real nice to me back in Cottonwood, but you need to take care of yourself now.”

  The next day Buster gathered his courage and stumbled back to the village. Men, women, and children stared at him as if they’d seen a ghost and made way as he approached Rain Water’s tent. He called out. “Rain Water, I’ve come to see you.” He got no response and started to speak again when he heard a voice behind him.

  Rain Water said, “Why do you stand in front of my wikiup, white man? Why did you not die? Do you come to be tested again?”

  Buster turned around. “I come because I’m worried about Sue, Rain Water. She does poorly, and I know you care for her, or you would not have rescued her and made her a guest of your people while she recovers.”

  “I care for no white person, you or her. Leave and return to your cave, or your next trial will come right now.” Rain Water brushed by Buster and disappeared into his tent.

  When he returned to the dugout,
Buster turned the tables and began caring for Sue. Every day, Kiska brought another potion from the shaman, which she made Sue drink. It gradually knocked back the sepsis she was suffering from.

  Several days later, a loud commotion came from the camp. Buster poked his head out of the dugout and as he neared the outskirts of the village, he stopped and stared wide-eyed.

  Ike!

  He was riding Ally into the village leading two braves on horses, one who was riding and one who was slumped over a horse. Ike’s holster, with his Colt in it, hung from his saddle horn, his rifle still in its scabbard. He had one hand raised in the air. The camp watched as the trio entered. Several braves trailed Ike with rifles raised, and hands on their knives. Finally, a group blocked Ike’s path and yanked him down off Ally. Several braves began to hit him as he struggled to get up. Rain Water suddenly appeared from out of the crowd and yelled at the braves to stay back. He stood over Ike, who was up on one knee. “White man, why do you ride uninvited into the Ute camp? You will die for that.”

  Angry Indians holding rifles, tomahawks, and knives surrounded Ike. He looked up at Rain Water. “You speak English. May I get up?”

  Rain Water hit Ike hard on the shoulder with the back of his tomahawk. “You will stay down until I tell you to get up.” The gathering circle of braves yipped shrilly and started for Ike, but Rain Water froze them all with a raised arm. He held his tomahawk high over his head, and the warriors retreated backward a few steps.

  “Who are you and why are you here in my village?”

  Ike rose to a knee again, his bad leg straight out to the side. “My name is Ike McAlister. I come from Cottonwood in search of my sister and my friend, Buster. These two braves attacked me on my way here.”

  The brave on the horse screamed at Ike and told Rain Water that three whites ambushed them as they drank at a stream.

  “Is it true that you attacked these braves, Ike Mc-Alister?’

  “No. What’s true is we were hoping your braves wouldn’t see us up in the trees, but they did, and they came after us. We were defending ourselves when I knocked this one off his horse.” He pointed to the prone Indian. “He hit his head on a rock. I brought him here so your medicine man could help him.”

  Rain Water motioned to two braves to take the slumped Indian to the shaman. The other Indian swung off his mount and started toward Ike, but Rain Water held him back. He pointed his tomahawk at Ike. “Standing Elk said there are three of you. Where are the others?”

  “They are nearby, waiting for my signal that the two I seek are here. Or aren’t here.”

  “You will die for spying on us, Ike Mc-Alister. That is what Bus-ter was doing. He is still alive, but he will not be for long.” Rain Water gestured to several braves around the circle. In the clipped Ute language, he said, “Find the other whites and bring them to camp. Dead or Alive.”

  ****

  Buster watched from a distance as Rain Water shouted at Ike. “You are not smart to come to our camp, Ike Mc-Alister. You will not leave alive, but I will give you a chance to live longer. You will face a challenge of courage, white man. If you fail, you die.” The braves nearby who understood what Rain Water was saying howled their approval.

  Suddenly the crowd parted, and Chief Black Tail Deer shuffled to the edge of the circle. A woman spread a blanket for him to sit on. Rain Water turned to his chief and nodded in respect. Black Tail Deer motioned for him to continue.

  Ike rose to a stand, stone-faced.

  Rain Water said, “You came to find your friend. So you have found him.”

  Buster tried to draw nearer. He heard Rain Water yell his name, and several Indians shoved him into the circle of braves. The young chief said, “Bus-ter is your challenge. You will fight him, Ike Mc-Alister. One of you will die now, and the other will die soon.”

  ****

  Ike knew he would have to kill Buster if they fought. He clenched his fists and stared at Rain Water. “No. I will not fight Buster.”

  “You will fight him or die now!”

  Ike held Rain Water with a steady gaze and lowered his voice. “Then I die now.”

  Rain Water circled the intruder, stomping and yelling at him to fight or die. Ike stood with his hands at his side, not wanting to rile the Indian further. The young chief shook his rifle at Ike and drew his knife. He jammed the blade up against Ike’s throat so hard that blood trickled down Ike’s neck. “You will fight!”

  Ike strained a reply through a flattened windpipe. “I won’t fight an old man. I won’t fight my friend.”

  Rain Water turned toward Buster. “He is not a good friend.” He struck the back of Ike’s calves hard with his rifle barrel. Ike dropped to his knees with a groan and reached a hand back toward his legs.

  “Your legs no good, white man. You limp, you are weak. You are afraid to lose to an old man. You would lose to Bus-ter.”

  It took Ike some time to stand again. When he straightened up, he looked down at Rain Water. He pointed a finger at the Indian. “I will not fight Buster…but…I will fight you, if you have the courage to meet me without your tomahawk.”

  The circle of Indians all understood what the white man meant when he pointed at the young chief. A low murmur arose as Rain Water stared at Ike with hatred in his eyes.

  “We fight with knives, white man. No rules. It will be a fight to your death.” Rain Water motioned to a brave to throw Ike a knife. The knife flew into the circle and stuck in the mud at Ike’s feet. Ike leaned down, pulled it from the ground, and heaved it at a nearby wood pole where it quivered before coming to a rest. He drew his own knife out of his boot, hefted it in his left hand, and nodded to Rain Water.

  Rain Water crouched. He held the knife out in front of him in his right hand and moved to the left, keeping the knife as close to Ike as possible. Ike bent in a semi-crouch, but his leg kept him from mirroring Rain Water’s quick movements. He angled his body away from the warrior, so as to present as small a target as possible.

  Rain Water feinted with several jabs. The braves in the circle let loose a series of high-pitched yips. Ike didn’t recoil but stayed motionless in his crouch as he waited for Rain Water’s next move.

  ****

  The commotion in the village carried all the way to the hillside dugout where Sue lay resting. She turned to the noise and asked her companion what it was. Kiska hurried to the mouth of the cavern. “I do not know, Sue Mc-Alister. There is big circle in middle of camp. Sometimes circle means fight inside, but cannot tell from here.”

  Sue looked around the dugout. “Where is Buster?”

  “He was here but left when noise came from camp. Has not returned.”

  Sue rolled to her good side and pushed up to a sitting position. Kiska reached down and grabbed Sue’s hands and lifted her to a stand. She wrapped an arm around Sue’s waist. “Lean on me, please.”

  “I don’t need to. I am getting better. Take me to the village now.” She wore a worried look as she started a limping walk toward the raucous clamor. By the time they got to the fringes of the circle, Sue was sweating despite the chill the bright afternoon sun couldn’t quite defeat.

  The villagers made a path for Sue as she and Kiska approached. The two made their way toward the inner circle but were still blocked by tall braves and unable to see inside. Then Sue saw Buster standing several feet in front of her, his back to her.

  “Buster! Buster!” But the din all around them drowned her words out. She started toward him when a brave grabbed Buster, and he disappeared into the circle. Sue put an arm out to move people in front of her away, but her progress through the packed throng was slow. “Kiska! Get me closer.” Kiska shouted to her tribespeople to move aside, but her pleas went unheard. It was some time before they were able to make it to the middle of the clamor. Sue peered into the circle over shorter women.

  Ike!

  He was on a knee in the middle of the circle. Rain Water stood over him, shouting. She raised a hand to her mouth, wide-eyed. She began to cr
y, softly at first, then with big, shaking sobs. Rain Water motioned to a brave to bring Buster forward.

  Ike pointed at Rain Water and said he would fight the Indian leader, not Buster. Sue slumped, and Kiska barely got her arms around her before she fell to the muddy ground. Kiska kicked at the braves around her, and they moved away as she struggled to hold onto Sue. She laid Sue down gently and rubbed her hands rapidly. Soon, Sue’s eyelids fluttered, and she stared up at Kiska.

  “Help me back up.”

  Kiska enlisted several braves to help Sue back up. When Sue peered into the circle again, Rain Water was stalking Ike, moving around him, knife out front at the ready.

  ****

  Rain Water lunged. Ike parried it with a knife-on-knife block and stepped back. The young chief attacked again, thrust after thrust. Ike sidestepped awkwardly away every time. He had to keep his distance, he couldn’t move like the Indian.

  Rain Water’s side-to-side movement kept reducing the area Ike had to maneuver in. As Ike retreated toward the edge of the circle, the Indians there moved back, and Ike was stuck in an even smaller opening. The braves behind him hit him with rocks and knife handles. Rain Water held an arm up high and yelled at them. They moved back a bit, yipping as they did. Ike tried moving out of the small space, but Rain Water kept him hemmed in, slashing back and forth in front of him. One of Rain Water’s quick jabs struck home. Ike grabbed at his right forearm, which dripped red blood into the brown muddy soil.

  Ike had the longer reach, but Rain Water’s quickness kept him just out of range. The hard days he’d spent searching for the village and the abuse he was taking now were wearing Ike down. He moved less and reacted slower to Rain Water’s jabs. He was fighting a losing battle. The mud underfoot gave way as he planted his large boots, and he had a hard time keeping his balance.

  Rain Water taunted him. “White man, you are no match for me, or any other brave here. You should have fought Bus-ter. He is the only one you would have had a chance against.” A quick thrust accompanied his outburst. Ike fended it off, but he wouldn’t be able to for much longer. He had to take the fight to Rain Water or die. There wasn’t much of him left.