by Karen Kay
How she loved him.
She made a delicate path down the bareness of his chest with one finger and had the pleasure of witnessing how the sudden arousal to passion changed the harshness of his features to the more muted qualities of desire. He drew in his breath and growled at her…gently.
Oh, how handsome he was. She felt her heart burst with the strength of her feeling.
“I love you, my husband,” she confessed and watched as a smile lit up his face, the gesture so full of tenderness for her that she glowed. Had she ever been this happy? Never, she answered her own question.
Oh, she thought again, how she loved this man of hers.
He removed her dress, her chemise, and her underthings with care and set them aside, his gaze lingering over her with concentrated interest as he stood to remove his trousers.
“And I love you, my wife.” He then knelt before her, and she couldn’t help but admire the look of him, the strength of his potency inspiring her to an even higher degree of longing…and loving. He added, leaning over her and tracing a finger down a path over her bosom, “There is only one thing I would ask of you, Little Brave Woman.”
She reached out a hand to caress his cheek and, adoration coloring her voice, she asked, “What is that?”
“Please,” he stopped, his throat working as though he were having difficulty swallowing. “Please remember me to our children.”
“Always, my husband,” she promised. “But I keep telling you, there will be little need, for you will be with me. This I know, my husband. This I know.”
He groaned, and, bringing his lips again to hers, kissed her over and over as though, while he might like to believe her, he still had his own doubts. At last, with a sigh, she made the overture to join her body to his, and with their bodies so intimately placed, she sealed her devotion to him with the strength of her knowledge.
And for a moment, perhaps a moment alone, she knew he believed her.
As she lay in the prairie grass, the sun bore down on her back, providing a welcome warmth against the chill of the early morning air. Close by her a bird sang, another answered, while an eagle flew high overhead. It was a good sign.
Next to her, Moon Wolf stretched out on a hill overlooking the whiskey trail. The pure scent of the earth and the grasses surrounded her, their clean fragrance a gentle reminder of the task before them. Behind her a smokeless fire burned low to the ground, and she prayed that the wind would not betray their presence to the enemy.
Beside her, Moon Wolf was completely still, the wolf headdress and black paint hiding most of his features. Even his body bore the markings of paint, she noted. She reached out to touch him, to give him encouragement, her fingers coming away with the black, oily substance, which she rubbed on the grass. Makoyi lay to his other side, the animal every now and again getting up to sniff at the rocks.
Looking back toward the trail, she absentmindedly adjusted her own softer version of the wolf headdress and sank down as far as possible into the cover of the grass.
This was the path taken by the whiskey laden wagons, Moon Wolf had told her. Horses, not oxen, pulled these wagons and flew as fast as possible across the prairie and over the medicine line into Canada, thus avoiding any law-abiding citizen who might try to stop them. Few people knew of this route, the oxen-pulled schooners traveling the other, more direct, path into Canada.
Because those were filled with food, clothing, and other common trade items, they were rarely, if ever, raided. However, it was that route which the military heavily guarded.
The whiskey train must have felt secure on this afternoon, for the horses traveled at a walk, advancing slowly up an incline. That didn’t upset Alys, however. The slower the vehicles, the easier the raid.
Moon Wolf glanced at her, signaling her to stay where she was, while he scooted backward, down the hill, Makoyi beside him. Reaching the ground at a place hidden from the four wagons, he turned and ran to another hill, one slightly ahead of the wagons.
He kept within eyesight of her, and soon, reaching the place where he had decided to make his stand, he signalled her again.
On cue, she scooted back down, out of sight, to the campfire that Moon Wolf had built earlier in the morning. Taking a few bullets from the saddlebags she carried over her shoulder, she threw the slugs onto the fire. Turning, she ran as fast as she could toward another hill, one that would put her to the rear of the wagon train. She crouched behind a big boulder.
It didn’t take long for the bullets to explode.
Down below, horses whinnied and reared at the sudden noise, trying desperately to bolt. But the scouts and drivers, by their very brawn, reined them in.
Soon a party of four men assembled. After some talk, they directed their mounts toward the place where the shots had been fired, leaving the drivers and the others with the freighters to keep control of the horses.
Into this confusion, Moon Wolf jumped, vaulting from rock to rock, each leap gaining him a better position, one closer to the train. At last, he was safely in range, with no one but Alys the wiser.
She, too, emerged from her hiding place and ran quickly to the next spot, according to plan. She was barely in position when…Swish!
A firelit arrow from Moon Wolf’s bow struck one of the wagons, followed by another arrow, two more, all in quick succession until all four wagons went up in flames. Panic ensued. The horses reared, fleeing in terror, their drivers no longer able to restrain them.
Shouting and screams to order could be heard, but it didn’t matter. Chaos spread all around them.
“Water, water, form a line to water,” the command rang out over the prairie. A bugle sounded, while the four men from the posse rushed back to the train, each one springing from his mount and hurrying toward the emergency.
Under cover, Moon Wolf and his pet raced back up the rocks, darting up the hill, down again, until they could sprint toward the place where Alys waited, holding the horses in check.
“Hurry,” he cried out as he approached her, “soon the whiskey traders and the seizers will leave the wagons to come and find our trail.”
He jumped onto his mount and leading her horse, they rode to the highest hill, where, in plain view of the wagons, he let out his war cry. Their horses reared, Makoyi howled, and just as quickly they were gone, back down the hill, sending their mounts in a dash across the prairie, toward yet another safe refuge.
All this had been part of their plan, even to the pursuit that would follow. But these three “bandits” would be back again, under the cover of darkness. The fire had halted the whiskey train for a time, perhaps doing some damage, but the schooners would soon resume their course toward the medicine line if nothing more were done.
No, tonight the Wolf Shadow and his cohorts would have to finish the job, ensuring that this whiskey train never reached Fort Whoop-Up, at least not with its terrible cargo intact.
Doubling back in the evening, they found a buffalo herd two or three miles from the valley where the whiskey train had entrenched itself for the night. Earlier, both Moon Wolf and Alys had observed the caravan, noting that the prairie schooners had suffered fire damage mostly to the wagons themselves and their canvas covering, the contents of the wagons seemingly undamaged.
The schooners had now formed a sort of corral, as was the usual custom. It made disabling them harder, for the train would be guarded with firepower from within.
Sitting atop a nearby butte, the three of them—Alys, Moon Wolf, and Makoyi—basked beneath the soft glow of a golden sunset, the last rays of day turning the burnished prairie to the tawny color of white gold. High above them flew an eagle, while below them grazed a vast herd of buffalo. In truth, little more could be seen below them except the buffalo. The coulees, the valleys, even the flat prairie were alive with the creatures.
Thus, the three of them sat, contemplating what they might do next, but mostly doing no more than gazing about them, at the wonder of nature—at the mountains in the distance, the
plains all around them, the herd of buffalo quietly grazing. How beautiful it was…, and occasionally Moon Wolf would utter, “I-tam-ap-i,” meaning happiness or being perfectly content.
At length, after the sun broadcast its departure from the sky, filling the heavens with screaming pinks and hot reds, Moon Wolf turned to Alys, saying, “This herd gives me an idea.”
She gazed back at him, raising an eyebrow.
“Aa, yes,” he said, “I think that the buffalo down there might be able to damage that caravan, in a way the fire could not.”
Alys, lazily observing the rise of the full moon in the eastern sky, looked down upon the land to the west of them, which at the moment looked black almost to the horizon, covered as it was by the vast buffalo herd.
“How would you do it?” she asked.
He jerked his head to the left. “If I approach that herd and start into it as though I am about to kill some of them, I believe that I can make them stampede and, as you can see, that caravan would be in their path.”
“Moon Wolf,” she touched his arm, “is that wise? Look at that herd. It is immense and there is only one of you. Besides, the buffalo might run in an opposite direction and leave the caravan unharmed.”
He acknowledged her with a nod. “That is true. No one can tell for sure where the buffalo might run. But still it might work, and it would be easy to do. Come,” he said, getting to his feet. “I will paint myself and my pony for this raid while I tell you more of my plan.”
“But I’m not sure I approve—”
“Come…”
Moon Wolf stood before her, his body nude except for breechcloth and moccasins. Black stripes streaked across the whole of his body, while plastered on his face was a look of grim determination. No amount of pleading had changed his mind about this.
“Would you have me stay here for fear that something might go wrong?” he had asked her when her appeals had begun in earnest. “If other people were to learn of this, that I even listened to you, they might tell you to start fitting me with dresses.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so, for I would tell no one of it,” she had countered.
But he would not be held back, nor, it appeared, could he be reasoned with. He said, “You will stay here with Makoyi while I ride into this herd and drive the buffalo toward the whiskey train.”
“So you have told me several times,” she acknowledged, “but what I don’t understand is why, if you are determined to go down there and there is nothing I can do to make you stay, why must I remain here?”
“Would you have me put you in great danger?”
“Why not? You are putting your own life in jeopardy.”
“That is different. I am a man; I am expected to do what I must in order that I secure the safety of others. But with the run of the buffalo, anything is possible. I have been trained, since the day I could sit a horse, to ride into the buffalo herds and select out the finest of them. It is something I have done often. You, however, are not so experienced. And so you will wait here, as will Makoyi.”
Alys didn’t reply, setting her lips, instead, into a straight line. She was certain that while Moon Wolf spoke with a great deal of wisdom and had, of course, her best interests at heart, his ordering her about and telling her what she could and could not do did not sit well with her. She persisted, “I would go with you, all the same.”
He grimaced before he drew in a deep breath, proffering, “I would ask that you not do this. I will need someone to wait here in case I am not successful. Also, if you do not stay here, Makoyi will go with me and I would rather he stay here. He might set the buffalo to running in the wrong direction.”
“But—”
Moon Wolf held up a hand. “I will need all my cunning about me this night in order to get this herd into that camp. I would prefer not to worry about you, too.”
Good, simple logic. What argument could she give him against it?
She could think of none at the moment, and so it appeared, at least temporarily, that she had no choice but to agree. She muttered a curt, “All right.”
In return he gave her a sympathetic grin. “Do not look so sad,” he encouraged, “this is as it must be.” He drew level to his horse and jumped on it, while she arose and came to stand beside him, taking his hand into her own.
She said, “You will be alert to any danger?”
“Aa, this I can promise you. But come, this is not a time for sadness. If we are successful this night, this whiskey train will not make it north of the medicine line. It is a good thing.”
“Yes,” she agreed, smiling up at him shyly. “It is a good thing.”
He leaned down to her, placing his cheek against her own and, running his fingers softly over her skin as though he were wiping off the paint left there, he reassured, “Do not worry. I have ridden into the buffalo herd many times.”
“I know, but—”
“Come, if we succeed in removing the whiskey sneakers from our land, we will be able to live together in peace. This is something worth having, is that not right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Little Brave Woman, listen to me. I promise you now before the Above Ones, that if I am successful this night I will not rest until I find a place for us; a place where we can live our lives without the prejudice that surrounds us There must be a place such as this and if necessary, I will spend my life finding it. This I promise you.”
She gave him a weak smile and glanced up at him, then away, before saying, “That was very beautifully said, Moon Wolf, and I accept your vow. I know it was spoken from your heart. And though I understand you well, I would still come with you.”
“Not tonight,” he insisted. “You know what to do if I do not return?”
Resigned, she bobbed her head. “I do.”
He kissed her then, a slow, lingering caress. One she would have liked to continue. But he drew away much too soon and said, “Know that I have always loved you.”
“And I, you.”
He straightened up in his seat and, with a quick jerk of his knees, set his pony into motion, guiding it down the butte, leaving Alys behind and, along with the wolf, watching.
“I don’t know about you, Makoyi,” she muttered under her breath as she watched her man ride away, “but I have a bad feeling about this. I wish we’d never found this herd.”
Makoyi sat up on his haunches and looked wise for the space of a moment, finally whining and putting his head down on his paws.
Moon Wolf had barely been gone a few minutes before she saw him charge into the herd, splitting the buffalo apart and driving a few thousand of them straight down upon the valley…and the whiskey train.
She watched him with something akin to awe. The darkened edges of night had finally fallen around them; the full moon, having already arisen, painted the landscape in shadows, while it, like a luculent globe, remained the single source of light.
She could barely see, yet she remained aware of when the buffalo started into a run. Slowly at first, but then with more and more vigor as they sensed the danger, the buffalo began to bolt in the general direction of the caravan. Never had she witnessed so close at hand the vigorous power of these shaggy and ill-shaped beasts. The sound of their thundering hooves as they picked up speed was deafening, while the force of their weight caused the ground around her to quake.
And there, in the thick of it, rode Moon Wolf, guiding his trained mount in and out of the herd, rousing them on into a more dashing run.
That the men in the whiskey train would hear the approach was without doubt. But this, too, had been anticipated. It had not been a part of Moon Wolf’s plan to kill these white men, simply to disable their wagons.
Alys held her breath. She could no longer make out the figure of Moon Wolf. She sat up quickly, brought out her saddlebags, and fumbled in it until she produced a pair of binoculars.
Focusing on the spot where she had last seen him, she stared, and stared.
Where w
as he? Was he all right?
She changed her focus to the head of the pack. Assuredly, there he was, out to the side of the herd, driving it forward.
She watched for several long moments, not letting Moon Wolf out of her view.
Soon, she noticed that the forerunners of the herd had reached the outskirts of the encampment. She could barely make it out from where she sat, but that didn’t stop her from her self-imposed vigil.
Onward those buffalo loped, onward toward the camp, until finally they spread out upon it and began threading their way through it, winding around the whiskey schooners much like a stream of water might around an island.
Suddenly a shot fired, the noise sending the herd into confusion. Some of the animals tried to stop, bunching up and causing one of the caravan wagons to fall over. Soon another wagon collapsed.
Makoyi arose and, pacing back and forth for several seconds, came to sit down upon a ledge, where he ruffed the hair on his neck and immediately began to howl.
At the same time, an awful feeling took hold of her. Where had that shot come from? Surely not from Moon Wolf, for he carried no gun.
Who then? What an irresponsible thing to do, to fire a shot into a herd already frightened.
Premonition struck. Someone had been shooting at Moon Wolf. She knew it. Had they made their mark?
No. Please, dear Lord, no, she prayed.
Jumping up, she sent a quick look to Makoyi, who was howling all out of control. She said, “Quit it, we are going to go and find him. But I will need your help to guide me to him, for there is still a herd of buffalo between me and Moon Wolf.”
Makoyi stopped his howling to stare at her, and she continued, “If the shot occurred close to the bull wagons, there might be other problems, too. For there will be those who will want to kill our man. Still, we must go and find him and hope for the best.”
With her words, the wolf came up onto his feet and began pacing back and forth, whining and glancing alternately at her, back at the buffalo, to her again. She spoke to the animal anew. “Yes, we need to get to Moon Wolf. You are going to have to guide me, Makoyi, for I do not know how to find him.”