Lakota Surrender

by Karen Kay

  Tahiska nodded, then turning toward his father-in-law, he commented, “We go to track the two washechu murderers. I am sorry, my friend, that you could not apply your justice.”

  “What do you mean escaped?” He put the question to Wahtapah in sign.

  “They have the courage of small children,” the young warrior answered with gestures. “They have stolen out of the fort to avoid a fair fight.”

  “Are you sure of this?”

  Wahtapah glanced at Tahiska curiously, then back at the major. “Had I not been sure, I would not have spoken.”

  Major Bogard frowned. He inspected first one Indian, then the other. “Will you let me accompany you?”

  “What purpose would this fulfill?” Tahiska challenged. “You have no revenge to seek. These white men, to my knowledge, have done you no harm.”

  “These men are now absent without leave. This is a crime against the army for which there is severe punishment. They have deserted their posts.”

  Tahiska eyed the officer with surprise. He then gestured, “It is a crime to leave this place? One is forced to stay here against his will?”

  “Of course. How could an army survive if it did not put such men up as examples? If there were no punishment for desertion, there would be none here to fight.”

  Tahiska stared at the major. “Of course,” he imitated, before he declared, “Come. We must leave now while the trail is still fresh. Before the sun is high, we go.”

  He didn’t wait for any further conversation. Turning, he and Wahtapah sprinted away to a far corner of the fort.

  “I am sorry,” Kristina watched as her husband prepared to leave, filling his parfleche with meat and clothing. “I should not have said what I did. I was shocked. I think if I had known of your plans for revenge, I would not have reacted so. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Were you afraid of me? I would have tried to help you.”

  Tahiska didn’t even acknowledge her presence. He finished filling the parfleche, then ignoring her completely, strode to his pony, tying the supplies onto the blanket. He didn’t listen to her; he didn’t acknowledge her. To him, she did not exist.

  Kristina followed him, nevertheless. “Are you planning to leave without speaking to me at all, then?”

  Tahiska halted, he turned. He raked his gaze over his wife from head to toe and back up. He snapped at her, “What is this sorry? Do you feel differently?” He paused, sighed heavily, and glanced skyward. “It is done. Perhaps you should not have called me savage, but you spoke as you feel. Look about you! Nothing has changed. I will still go to seek revenge for my father’s death. I will still take the white man’s scalp. I will dance, and the scalp will hold a place of honor within my lodge. You are not Indian. You do not understand such things. I do not expect you to. We are from different worlds. Perhaps there was never meant to be a bridge between our two cultures. Perhaps we have both made a mistake. I must think on this and so must you. I had thought that once you came to our village, you would learn our ways and want to stay. Now I wonder if you could be happy in our village. I knew our path, yours and mine, would not be easy, but I did not expect disloyalty.” He jumped onto his horse and gazed down on her from his lofty position. “Do not think for a moment that I would not kill an enemy. If you cannot accept this, it is better that we part. I cannot and will not change that which I am.” He didn’t even await a reply.

  Signaling his horse, he gave it a swift kick and galloped from the fort. He didn’t look back.

  Kristina watched him ride away until his figure was only a speck on the horizon. She wished she knew more about Indian customs; she feared the significance of what had just happened. Had Tahiska just divorced her? True, she’d had trouble from the start accepting their relationship, but now that she wished for it, it eluded her.

  Tahiska kept his pony to the rear of their group. Wahtapah led while the major was sandwiched in between. The arrangement suited Tahiska. He was lost in thought.

  To Kristina, to any casual onlooker, Tahiska might appear stoically indifferent. But the truth was, he felt too much. Much too much.

  He loved his wife more than he could ever remember loving anyone or anything. His days were brighter just because of her, his nights filled with yearnings of passion. And he thought of her constantly. It didn’t seem to matter where he was or what he was doing. He couldn’t even wage a simple fight without having thoughts of her. Today, when he’d first heard her voice, he’d thought he was imagining it, then he’d seen her…

  Though he had told her she was the cause of his troubles today, he knew quite differently. He’d made a mistake and he really had no excuse. He knew the old prophecies, he hadn’t needed Neeheeowee to remind him. Wasn’t it so, that a man who had recently been with a woman was more susceptible to a wounding in battle, that the arrows of an enemy were more likely to find him? Yet, he had chosen to ignore these teachings.

  Thus, he had spent the night before battle with his wife. He had not properly prepared himself to face the enemy and had lost the first fight without so much as drawing his knife.

  Tahiska was not really upset with Kristina or her impudent talk. She had defied him at a time when his emotions were primed for a fight. This is really all that had happened. Normally he would have recovered from such a thing swiftly, but his emotions were all jumbled.

  No, it wasn’t what she had said that bothered him. The upset stemmed from something deeper, something much deeper.

  Values. Culture. Loyalty.

  What was wrong with taking scalps? When the enemy loomed, it was kill, or be killed. The taking of a scalp to his people might be compared to the white man’s securing the flag of an enemy. It was something to be proud of. It declared that a man had successfully defended his village. And in a country where there were no laws, no ways of righting wrongs, it was left to such individual family members to seek retribution, not just for themselves, but also for those left grieving. Didn’t it declare to an enemy, “Don’t fool with me. I am a dangerous man to cross”?

  In his village, no young woman would even consider marrying a young man unless the brave had counted coup, secured a few scalps, and captured ponies from enemy camps.

  Why was Kristina not proud that her husband could marry at such a young age? Didn’t he show promise as one of the tribe’s defenders?

  Did she not see that defending his family brought honor to his people? Did it not say, We are powerful. Leave our village alone?

  But worse, he was unsure. In the heat of the moment he had accused Kristina of disloyalty. Now he wondered. Had she truly wished to maneuver him into letting the murderers go free? Or had Tahiska misread her intentions?

  Tahiska glanced skyward. Of one thing he was certain: He loved Kristina. Even in disloyalty, he loved her. An eagle soared overhead, and Tahiska sighed. He ached with love for her. He thought back over what he had said to her, realizing he had lied. He couldn’t leave her. And if he did go, or if she ever did, he knew the sun would go out of his life. He shivered, and staring into the sky, he recognized a fact that had escaped him until now: He trusted her. Somehow it just wasn’t possible that she would betray him. Perhaps there were other reasons she had interfered today.

  It was easy to blame Kristina, but if he were to be truthful, he knew he had brought all his own woes upon himself. He was aware of the teachings of the elders: A warrior should never sleep with a woman before a fight. Yet, he did not always think logically when his reflections turned to Kristina. Thus, he had lost a fight. Did he also stand to lose more? Kristina?

  No. He would not allow it. He recalled that he had not been kind to her before he left. Would she leave him? Their love was still so fragile, and she had only just acknowledged their marriage. He squeezed his eyes shut. Why had he thrown her apology back at her? He vowed to himself that he would make it up to her. If he lived, he would never again give her reason to doubt his love.

  Tahiska glanced upward again, seeking solace. At least he had tender memories of her to ca
rry with him. Last night Kristina had given herself completely to him. And the more he considered it, the more he was inclined to feel that if he had it to do over again, he would not change one single action. After last night, he felt more love for his wife than he’d ever experienced. No one could take away those memories. No one. And if he died in this act of revenge he sought against the two white soldiers, he would at least carry her image with him to the spiritual world.

  He made the vow to himself. He loved her and he would never tire of letting her know.

  Even considering the disappointment of the day, he was happy he had spent the night with her. He suddenly smiled. No, upon reflection, he knew he would not change a single thing.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Three figures huddled around the near smokeless fire. No one spoke. Except for the occasional spark flying from the blaze, all was quiet. It was a time to collect one’s thoughts, to think of the day past, to wonder about tomorrow. And though Tahiska tried to conjure up images of revenge, all he could think of was Kristina: Kristina laughing, Kristina serious, Kristina flushed with passion. He pulled his thoughts up short, this last memory causing reactions he could not completely control. He glanced at his father-in-law, surprised to find the older man staring back. Tahiska’s glance skirted away. Had the older man read the Indian’s mind? Had Tahiska exposed himself in some way? Whatever the reason, Tahiska was suddenly uncomfortable.

  Major Bogard, in turn, regarded the two Indians as though seeing them for the first time. Why had he never before thought of them as men? He’d respected them, yes, but as one might a teenager still too young to know his own mind.

  The major had never been witness to the Indian method of tracking and was surprised to find that a trail could be followed despite weather, sun, or darkness. Though they had yet to catch up to their Cheyenne friend, the threesome had made more progress today than all of his army scouts combined could have done.

  The trail was still fresh, but they had finally stopped to camp, although neither Indian appeared to need the break, leaving the major wondering if the decision to camp had been more for his own sake than theirs. And even as night approached, neither Indian appeared tired, seeming to be able to stay on horseback well into the evening.

  The major stared straight at Tahiska, studying him. What was it that his daughter saw in this young man? The major was under no disillusionment: His daughter loved this Indian, enough to stand up to the wrath of the fort.

  He inspected Tahiska as another man might, seeking out weaknesses, strengths, possible character flaws. But the major saw little since the Indian was so skilled at masking himself beneath an expression that belied nothing. That there would be a confrontation between himself and the Indian, he had no doubt, because the brave also loved his daughter. Could the major allow such a romance?

  Major Bogard sighed. He knew why his daughter loved this man, for his strength, his loyalty, even his appearance. Though Tahiska’s looks were foreign to him, the major admitted that the Indian was handsome. Plus, he knew his daughter had a penchant for the unusual, and Tahiska was certainly exotic enough to excite Kristina’s interest.

  Tahiska glanced over at the major, then quickly away.

  At last Tahiska spoke. “We must decide our course of action and also designate a safe retreat if needed.”

  No one spoke, then finally, Wahtapah said, “I think that we should wait until we rendezvous with our Cheyenne friend. It will be from that vantage point that we will see our enemies and can best decide our plans.”

  “Perhaps. But it is also possible that we could be surprised. Should we not have a plan in that event?”

  Wahtapah paused. He glanced hurriedly at the major. “What do you say?” he asked, pointing to the white man.

  But Major Bogard didn’t understand the Indian tongue. In sign, he asked to be told all that had been said.

  Wahtapah quickly translated, then sat back.

  Wendall Bogard took a moment to think. He’d never realized the Indians formed strategies. He’d always thought the Indian fought recklessly, driven by urges, not intellect. The major found himself, once again impressed. And he thought it odd that he was the one learning, not the Indian.

  At length, he answered in sign, “Your friend is wise to plan such things. It is not good to be surprised. One should have a plan just in case.”

  Both Indians nodded and, drawing out a map on the ground, they formed their plans.

  Up before dawn, they dined on jerky for breakfast and set out upon the trail before even the birds began their songs. The major was embarrassed to note that the two Indians had already bathed and said their prayers long before he even opened his eyes.

  After breaking camp they moved quickly, and by noon, they were closing in on the trail, each new mark distinctively more recent than the last. They dismounted and silently pressed forward, meeting up with Neeheeowee within the hour.

  Greetings between the men were exchanged without a single sound. The major, silently observing, was again impressed. The Indians had found their prey as easily as if they had been casually reading a book. Of one fact he was certain, the Indians possessed a knowledge of this land unparalleled by any other people. Their wisdom of their surroundings was beyond comparison to the average white soldier’s.

  He was also impressed by their strategy. They had made plans for every possible form of ambush, even battle schemes, defenses, and escape routes. They had even formulated a meeting place in order to regroup.

  The major took note. Though he might not admit it openly, there was much here to learn.

  The party of four crept slowly up to the ridge on the bluff. Positioned on their stomachs, they all peered over the edge. The major could see nothing.

  “There they are,” Tahiska signed. No one had spoken in several hours; all communication was in sign.

  The major strained his eyes. He could not see anything resembling the two men. Finally, he asked, “Where?”

  Tahiska pointed and the officer, after laboring to focus, discerned two tiny dots that, if he continued to stare long enough, appeared to move.

  “They are heading straight for Pawnee country, though I do not understand why,” Neeheeowee motioned. “Ever since the white man introduced a deadly disease amongst their people, that tribe stays away from the whites and has been killing all the washechu that dare to venture into their midst. If we do not succeed in obtaining their scalps, the Pawnee will finish our job.”

  Tahiska nodded. “Perhaps. But the white artist was just at the Pawnee camp. Maybe they feel they are safe. There,” he said, pointing to a hill directly within the path of the two white men. “That is the place where we will intercept the murderers. We will make our stand there.”

  “No!” Major Bogard said, then, “Hiya,” he said in their own language. “I know you are justified in seeking revenge, but I would ask you again to let the two white men face their own justice. They have committed crimes that my people cannot ignore.”

  Tahiska inspected this soldier, his father-in-law, in minute detail; he narrowed his eyes before he motioned, “You will have an equal voice in our council. It is the council that will decide. Come, we must prepare ourselves to fight.”

  The rest of the day saw the Indians painting themselves, dancing, praying, working over strategies. By dusk their plans were set. Major Bogard joined in the midnight raid on the enemies’ camp, capturing their horses, but other than a few arrows aimed only to frighten, they left the two washechu alone.

  Before the first ray of morning light flickered in the sky the next morning, the Indians and the one officer shot an alarming number of arrows and gunfire into the camp, none intended to kill. The sky was not even red with the first rays of morning light when the two white murderers surrendered.

  The major strode forward with Tahiska by his side, while Wahtapah and Neeheeowee kept guard from hidden vantage points.

  The two white men stood before them, hands outstretched, weapons flung on the ground
.

  “Robert McKlinsley, Charles McGreggor,” the major commanded, being the first to speak. “As an official representative of the United States Army, I arrest you both for desertion of post and for the unlawful murders of two Sioux Indians. You will be taken back to Fort Leavenworth to await trail.” McKlinsley smirked. He glared first at Tahiska, then swung his arms out in front of him. “I thinks ye be a parleyin’ too long with the Injuns here, Major Bogard,” he grated. “We dinna kill the Injuns. We was a scoutin’ ahead of the column. But jist suppose we did kill them Injuns. Thar’s no law agains’ defendin’ ye own self. But by the bull barley, ye ain’t gonna turn us over to these Injuns. I swear it. Wasna that true, Charlie?”

  Charlie nodded. The major growled.

  “I don’t believe you, McKlinsley. And it’s lucky for you that I’ll take no part in your sentencing. My only duty is to take you back to the fort where you will await your fate. You owe your lives right now to the sense of fair play amongst these Indians. They’re the ones who have decided to let you face our own system of justice.”

  “Now did ye iver?” McKlinsley shook his head and laughed, shifting his weight. “Well, ye must think this man’s a fool if ye thinks I’ll iver let ye take me back to the fort.” Suddenly he produced a knife, flinging it at the major with such an accuracy that the officer had no time for evasion.

  But Tahiska had been alerted with the first indication of the enemy’s motion. In fact, the Indian had counted on just such an action. Tahiska hurled himself in front of the major, throwing the officer to the ground and out of the way so quickly, even the two assailants were astounded.

  The Indian, however, had not compensated for his own safety and as the knife struck its target with a dull thud, Tahiska fell.

  One less Injun to kill.

  It was the last thought that McKlinsley had. Before either he or Charlie could fire a shot, Tahiska’s two friends burst out of their cover, making short work of the battle. McKlinsley lay dead within seconds from a precisely aimed arrow while Charlie fled, Neeheeowee following in close pursuit.