Tender savage

by Conn, Phoebe

  On September 19, when Colonel Sibley left Fort. Ridgely, Mark had been promoted to the rank of captain and given command of one of the companies of the Third Minnesota. With nine companies of the Sixth Regiment, five companies of the Seventh, a company of the Ninth, thirty-eight Renville Rangers, twenty-eight mounted citizen guards, and sixteen citizen artillerymen, there was a total of 1,619 men. The missionary. Reverend Stephen R.

  Riggs, went along as the group's chaplain, while the Indian who had saved so many white lives at the Upper Agency, John Other Day, served as the scout.

  Following the government road toward the Upper Agency, the determined group marched for four days to reach Lone Tree Lake, which they mistook for Wood Lake, which lay farther west. Three miles below the agency, they camped on the shores of the lake on the night of September 22. A stream flowing from the lake had cut a deep ravine to the northeast, and the Sixth Minnesota camped to the left of it. The Third Minnesota took the crest of the ravine opposite them, while the Seventh took a position at the rear forming a triangular encampment. Mistakenly believing the Sioux were farther north. Colonel Sibley chose to post the guards close to their positions. Little Crow, with a force of between seven nundred and twelve hundred braves, was only a few miles to the north, however. The chief considered attacking the troops at night, but decided it would be far wiser to wait until the next day when the soldiers would be strung out along the road as they continued their march.

  At dawn, the Indians were hidden in the tall grass at the side of the road when several enterprising men of the Third Minnesota Regiment who had left the camp without permission came rolling by in wagons. Intent upon gathering potatoes from the fields at the Upper Agency to add variety to their meager rations of salt pork, hardtack, and black coffee, they had not considered their errand dangerous. When the wagons strayed off the curving road to make better time, the Indians had no choice but to rise up and fire their weapons to avoid being run over.

  Hearing gunfire as the wagons inadvertently triggered the ambush, Mark was as confused as the other officers as to what had happened. Before any orders could be given, many soldiers had picked up their rifles and gone running to their friends' aid. The Indians withdrew momentarily as the Third Minnesota made their daring, if unauthorized, advance; then the braves gathered their forces to attack the army's flank. Sibley immediately recalled the Third and ordered fire from a six-pound cannon to blanket the ravine before companies of the Sixth and

  Seventh regiments opened fire to keep the area clear.

  After two hours of fighting, in which seven soldiers died and thirty-three were wounded, the Indians withdrew, carrying with them the body of Chief Mankato, who had failed to dodge a cannon ball. They left the bodies of fourteen others behind. Sibley claimed the battle of Wood Lake, misnamed because of the confusion as to their location, so decisive a victory that he accurately predicted the Sioux would not attack the army again. While he would have preferred to pursue the fleeing Indians, he lacked sufficient cavalry troops to do so, and he remained at Lone Tree Lake for two days to care for the wounded.

  Fearing that Little Crow might kill the captives if he returned victorious from his latest battle. Christian Indians and others friendly to whites moved them into the camp of Chief Red Iron, who had vowed to keep Little Crow and his braves off his land. They were prepared to defend the captives, but when Little Crow returned after suffering another defeat, he gave no thought to the captives' fate. Along with the Chiefs Shakopee, Red Middle Voice, and Medicine Bottle, Little Crow and many of his followers gathered their families and left for the Dakotas, where they thought they could elude the army as easily as the renegade Inkpaduta had done.

  Wabasha, Red Iron, and Taopi, along with Gabriel Renville, an influential man of mixed blood, sent a mixed-blood prisoner, Joseph Campbell, to inform Henry Sibley that the captives were safe and that the army should advance to receive them. The troops left Lone Tree Lake on September 25 and marched fifteen miles past the Hazel wood Mission, which had been the Reverend Riggs's home. There they found a hundred and fifty lodges filled with Indians from Wabasha's and Taopi's camps, plus numerous Lower Sioux, who, knowing the war was lost, were prepared to surrender.

  While Mark Randall readily understood Colonel Sibley's desire to enter the Indian camp in dress uniforms to the accompaniment of their drummers' loud and stirring cadence, the wait until two on the afternoon of September 26 was sheer agony for him. He cared nothing for colorful flags, elaborate ceremony, or the stern speech Sibley delivered to impress the Sioux that those guilty of

  participating in the uprising would be severely punished. He wanted only to see Erica, to hold her in his arms, and make her his wife before the day was out. He had been so encouraged by the news that Christian Indians had protected the white prisoners during their captivity that he had already asked the Reverend Riggs to perform their marriage ceremony. Yet when he saw the first of those being released, his heart fell. Even though the women and children were weeping for joy, their faces were gaunt, the thinness of their bodies clear evidence of how close they had come to starvation. After nearly six weeks of captivity, their clothing had been reduced to such tattered shreds that many of the soldiers were prompted to remove their coats and give them to the women ratner than allow them to continue going about nearly naked.

  At the close of the meeting, ninety-one whites and a hundred and fifty mixed bloods had been released, but there was no sign of Erica Hanson. Mark spoke with each of the women who had been freed, describing his fiancee and asking for word of her, but he received no more than sympathetic apologies, until he found a woman who recalled meeting the pretty blonde in her uncle's store.

  Although tired ana hungry, Harriet could not ignore the urgency of the handsome captain's pleas and offered the only help she could. "I can tell you only that I know who Erica is, but she has never been with us. If she is a captive, then she must have been held elsewhere." She gave Mark's arm a comforting pat and moved on, eager to see if one of the civilians might have word of her husband.

  Sick with fear, in the following days Mark waited as sixteen more white captives appeared at the army encampment, which had been appropriately named Camp Release, but again, all he received in response to his queries were blank stares. No one had seen his fiancee since the day she had been abducted, more than a month ago. Then, finally, it occurred to him to begin interrogating the Indians who had surrendered, for surely if Erica were being held by a Sioux brave, others would have seen her.

  Song of the Wren had been in Chief Red Iron's camp when the uprising came to an end. Her father 2ind her brother. Hunted Stag, had fled with Little Crow, while she

  had been left behind to care not only for her little sister and her pregnant mother, who was in poor health, but for an aging aunt and uncle as well. That was a sorry situation, which Wren bitterly resented. When she had seen an army officer moving about their camp asking questions, she had no interest in speaking with him. They had all been badly disappointed to find die army planned to put the braves who had taken part in the uprising on trial rather than treat them as prisoners of war, and she would volunteer no information that might harm one of those who had surrendered. Then a curious friend had discovered that the inquisitive captain was looking for a blond woman named Erica, and Wren knew she had to speak with him.

  Mark had all but given up his quest for clues as to Erica's whereabouts when he saw a slender Indian maid incline her head as her eyes met his. She turned away, then looked back over her shoulder at him as she started toward the river. Intrigued, if not certain she had been encouraging him to follow her, Mark brought the conversation he had in progress to an abrupt end and started after her.

  Wren pausc3 frequently, delighted to see the handsome officer was in dose pursuit. She waited until she came to three sugar maple trees that grew so close together they would screen their meeting from curious eyes, and stopped to wait for him there. When Mark reached her side, he did no more than raise a brow
as if to ask what she had wanted, but she had no intention of giving him the information he needed until she learned how he planned to use it. "I have seen you asking questions," she be^an with a deceptively innocent smile. Her teeth were straight, a sparkling white against her dark skin. She knew she was attractive, and hoped Mark, like otiier men, would think so, too. She brushed her long hair off her shoulders, thinking he could not fail to notice how long and shiny it was.

  Mark knew very little about Indian women, but since this one seemed so friendly, he leaned back against the nearest maple and reF>eated the description he had ^ven so often he thought he could probably repeat it in his sleep. "My fiancee was taken captive in New Ulm. Since she was not among those freed here, I am hoping someone might have seen her and be willing to tell me where she is. She is very pretty, slender, and no taller than my chin. She has

  long, curly blond hair and eyes of an unusual dark blue. Her name is Erica Hanson. Have you see her, or heard anyone mention a white captive with her name?"

  Wren scuffed the toe of her moccasin in the dust of the trail. "Perhaps she does not wish to be found," she suggested shyly.

  Mark straightened up, suspecting the young woman wished only to flirt with him, and he had no patience for that. "If you should hear something, please let me know. I will provide a generous reward to the person who helps me find Erica."

  Money was something her family would need desperately, since it did not look like their annuity would be paid that year. Keenly aware of that. Wren reached out to touch Mark's sleeve, hoping to keep him talking a while longer. "Let me see the money first. Then I will decide if I wish to help you."

  Seeing he had her sincere interest now, Mark smiled as he replied. "I plan to pay the reward in gold, and I do not carry that around with me." Taking a ten dollar bill from his wallet, he folded it nonchalantly as he made what he hojDed would be an enticing offer. "Tell me what you know, and I'll give you this. If it leads me to Erica, then I will see you get one hundred dollars in gold." Mark was a wealthy young man and would gladly have promised his entire fortune to set Erica free, but he thought ten dollars would be enough to tempt an Indian maiden to confide in him.

  Wren eyed the money for a long moment, then, wanting to be rid of Erica for good, she said, "I know the brave who has her, but you must promise me he will come to no harm."

  Perplexed by that demand, Mark wondered if the girl wanted the brave for herself. "He has obviously taken part in the uprising, or he couldn't have taken my fiancee prisoner. He will have to stand trial with the others."

  Wren shook her head slowly. "I cannot help you, if it means he will be captured."

  Mark frowned angrily, convinced by her reluctance that she did indeed have valuable information, but not knowing what he could promise that would sway her to reveal it. "If you tell me who and where he is, I will try and

  convince him to hand over Erica willingly. I will testify to that at his trial. That he turned over a captive without a fight will be in his favor."

  Wren now faced the most difficult choice of her life. The officer provided not only a means of ridding their lives of the blond witch, but also a way to earn the money she knew her family would need to buy food for the wmter. Still, she did not want to see Viper put on trial. It was a dilemma that made her head ache, and she did not know what to do.

  Mark could see the girl was as deeply troubled as he was, and he grew certain the brave holding Erica must be the man she loved. "If I am the one to find this brave, I will give you my word he will live to stand trial. Search parties are being or^^anized to look for more captives. If someone else fin(£ Erica, they mi^ht kill the brave who has her. Do you want to take that nsk? You will never see the man again if he is shot dead for what he has done. I will give you my word he will be brought back for trial. We are bound to catch him sooner or later. His best chance to live is if I find him. Now where is he?"

  Wren's eyes filled with tears as she looked up at Mark. "He has done nothing wrong. Your woman bewitched him. She used her beauty to make him her slave. She is not his. I want only for you to take her away. Viper is the one you will be setting free."

  "Viper?" Mark whispered hoarsely. "The brave's name is Viper?" The day was warm, but he felt a sudden chill. Someone stepping upon my grave, he told himself. He had never liked that expression, and he abhorred it now. It was the brave's name that had alarmed him, for surely a man with such a menacing name would be an evil brute. An evil brute he had just promised to see live to stand trial.

  Wren nodded. "He and your woman were here with us, but they have gone south. If there is anything left of New Ulm, they may be there now."

  Mark handed her the ten dollar bill. For all he knew her tale was a complete fabrication. It was possible Viper did not exist, or if he did, he might not have Erica. It was the only clue he possessed, however, and he would use it. "Thank you. Tell me your name, so I can find you to pay you the reward."

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  "I am Song of the Wren, but you must tell no one that I am the one who has spoken to you about Viper. No onel"

  She reached out to grip his arm tightly, and Mark did no more than look down at her hand until she released him of her own accord. "I understand. If I give you the money, you can tell everyone you earned it by being my whore." With that rude farewell, he left her among the trees and returned to Camp Release. Seeing John Other Day talking with a group of troopers, he called him over.

  "Is there a Lower Sioux by the nameof Vip>er?" he asked without making an attempt to disguise the anger of his mood.

  Other Day knew, as all the others did, that Captain Randall was seeking news of his fiancee. "Yes, there is such a brave. He is cunning and quick. If you meet him, be very careful. He would make the worst of enemies."

  "I thank you for your warning. I won't forget it." Viper's existence confirmed, Mark went straight to Sibley's headquarters.

  Colonel Sibley listened with interest as Mark requested f)ermission to take a search party out to scour the area near New Ulm for captives. "Of course, take as many men as you need. There are so many people still unaccounted for, you are bound to find someone m need of rescue. I hop>