Wilderness Double Edition 11

by David Robbins

  Presently the cabin appeared. Winona was in such haste to get there that she was mere yards from the door when she realized it hung partway open. She stopped short so unexpectedly that her son nearly blundered into her. Puzzled, she listened but heard no sounds from inside. Yet she was certain she had closed the door behind her when she left, and she whispered as much to Zach.

  Holding the pistol in front of him, the youth stepped around his mother. He looked for his father’s horse in the corral, but it wasn’t there. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach and his mouth went dry. He nervously licked his lips as he stalked to the front wall and ducked so he could peek into the window.

  The cabin appeared empty. Zach motioned for his mother to stay put and cat-footed to the doorway. Pushing with his left foot, he swung the door wide open. No shots or shouts rang out. Bending at the waist, he darted inside and confirmed no one was there.

  “All clear,” Zach reported.

  Winona wasted no time in placing the pail on the counter and shrugging out of the cradleboard, which she hung from a stout peg above the bed. “I must have been mistaken,” she told her son, even though she was sure that she was not. To be on the safe side, she added, “But we will check around the cabin, just in case.”

  Zach went to the corner where his Hawken leaned. It was his pride and joy, a gift from his parents. They had bestowed it on him at the last rendezvous, and he had spent at least half an hour every night ever since, cleaning and polishing it until it shone from one end to the other.

  Winona grabbed her rifle, an ammo pouch, and a powder horn. She made a point of closing the door behind Zach, then moved to the northeast corner.

  In order to prevent anyone from taking them by surprise, Nate had cleared all the brush within a fifty-foot radius. Winona saw no one close by or in the trees. She cautiously went on to the next corner.

  Zach kept glancing to their rear. Experience had taught him that hostiles could be downright sneaky, and he was not about to lose his hair if he could help it.

  Suddenly Winona stopped. In the dirt at the base of the north wall were a number of moccasin tracks. She pointed them out to Zach, who nodded. Sinking onto her left knee, she scrutinized them. By their shape it was plain that they had not been made by Shoshones.

  A very worried Zach kept his eyes on the trees. If there were enemies about, he reflected, that was where they would be. A slight creak above them prompted him to glance up at the roof, and he learned he had been wrong. The forest wasn’t the only place the hostiles might be hiding.

  Over the edge of the roof plummeted four buckskin-clad warriors.

  Three

  Nate King was worried sick by the time he paused on a grassy bench overlooking the verdant valley he had staked out as his own. The lake sparkled like a shimmering jewel in the brilliant sunshine, and to the southeast several elk were visible on a low slope. He couldn’t see the cabin.

  The nine warriors had descended the bench in single file and stayed in single file once they reached the valley floor. It was a tactic typically employed when a war party knew it was nearing an enemy camp.

  Nate threw off all caution. His family was in mortal peril, and for all he knew they might have already been attacked. He pushed the big black stallion at a breakneck pace, vaulting logs and plowing through thickets rather than going around them.

  The woods were so thick that Nate didn’t catch a glimpse of the cabin until he was within a hundred yards of it. His innate caution made him slow down even though an inner voice screamed at him to rush on in there before it was too late.

  In a stand of spruce, Nate drew rein and dismounted. Ground-hitching the stallion, he padded forward and cocked the Hawken. In the brush at the edge of the clearing, he squatted and parted the branches in front of him.

  All appeared tranquil. The cabin was quiet and there was no sign of hostile warriors.

  Nate glided to the east, to a vantage point behind an old stump situated 40 feet from the front door. It was closed. The glare on the windows prevented him from seeing inside, but he thought he detected movement. He was about to stride into the open when the latch rasped and the door opened.

  Out walked a warrior painted for war.

  Instantly Nate brought the Hawken up and sighted on the center of the man’s chest. In his mind’s eye he saw his slaughtered family lying in bloody pools on the cabin floor. His finger started to close on the trigger.

  Then the warrior looked right at Nate and smiled. Holding his right hand in front of his neck with the palm outward and the index and second fingers extended skyward, the warrior raised his hand until the extended fingers were as high as the top of his head.

  It was sign language. The gesture meant ‘friend’.

  Nate blinked, and slowly lowered the rifle as recognition set in. The style of the warrior’s buckskins and the pair of long braids on either side of his head were the earmarks of a Crow. The tribe was generally friendly to whites, although there had been isolated instances where the two sides had clashed.

  Looking closer, Nate was startled to find that he knew this particular warrior. Lowering the Hawken, he stepped from concealment.

  The Crow’s hands flew in more sign language, saying, in effect, “My heart is glad that we meet again, Grizzly Killer. It has been too many moons since last we shared a pipe.”

  Nate glanced at the doorway. Other warriors were inside, staring at him.

  “You do remember me?” the warrior went on. “I am Two Humps. You saved my son from the renegade white who was known as the Invincible One.”

  Nate remembered all too well. A man by the name of Jacob Pierce had tricked the Crows into believing he could not be killed and had instigated a bloodbath that resulted in the loss of many innocent lives. During the conflict, Two Humps had befriended Nate and Nate’s mentor, Shakespeare McNair. They had parted on the best of terms.

  Warily, Nate set the stock of the Hawken on the ground and leaned the rifle against his leg to free his hands. “I remember you,” he signed. “I remember telling you where to find my lodge, but I did not think I would see you again so soon.” Nate gazed over the warrior’s shoulder. “I see you have others with you. I hope they did not harm my family”

  “What kind of man would I be if I repaid your kindness with treachery?” Two Humps beckoned. “Come see for yourself. Your wife and son and daughter are fine.”

  At that juncture the warriors inside parted, and out came Winona with Evelyn in her arms. Zach followed. Mother and son hurried over, the youth armed with his pistol and knife.

  Nate finally allowed himself to relax. If the Crows were up to no good, they would hardly have let the boy keep any weapons. He embraced each in turn. “For a while there I was mighty worried,” he admitted softly so only they could hear.

  “That makes two of us, husband,” Winona said, giving the Crows an indignant look. She had feared for their lives when the four warriors jumped from the roof. One had torn the rifle from her grasp as three more rushed around the corner of the cabin and bore her to the earth. Only instead of slashing her throat, they had stripped her of her knife and pinned her until she quieted. The same had been done to Zach. When both of them were safely unarmed, Two Humps had appeared and explained the purpose for his visit in sign. He had apologized for their rough treatment and given back their weapons. All this Winona now told her husband, adding, “He claimed that he was afraid we might shoot him before he had a chance to explain himself, so that is why he took us by surprise.”

  Nate pursed his lips. The precaution made sense. It didn’t do for strangers to waltz up to a camp or a cabin unannounced. Some mountaineers would shoot first and ask questions later. “I reckon we can’t hold it against him,” he said.

  “I can,” Zach groused. “I’ve got a goose egg on the back of my noggin. They were awful rough on me.

  “You’re almost an adult now, son,” Nate reminded him. “So they treated you like one.”

  The suggestion that he was so clos
e to manhood made Zach beam. “That’s right, I am. I suppose I shouldn’t hold a grudge. I might have done the same if I was in their moccasins.”

  Two Humps advanced. “I trust there are no bad feelings,” he signed earnestly. “Please accept my apology.”

  There was no denying the warrior’s sincerity. Nate put his hand on the Crow’s shoulder before signing, “You did what you had to do. Let us go inside. We will smoke a pipe together and you can tell me what has brought you so far from your country.”

  The warriors in the cabin respectfully backed out of the way and ringed themselves around the room. Most were younger than Two Humps. A notable exception was a man who appeared years older and wore a sorrowful countenance at all times. The younger ones were amazed by the wooden lodge and never tired of running their fingers over every odd object they came across. One even stuck his head into the fireplace and wound up with soot on his forehead and cheeks.

  While this was going on, Nate and Two Humps sat at the table and shared a pipe. The Crow smacked the chair a few times before he would sit down and gave it a hard shake to verify it was strong enough to hold his weight.

  With the amenities disposed of, Nate regarded the warrior intently. The younger warriors stopped their shenanigans to pay close attention, while the older man walked over to the table, his features as somber as a storm cloud.

  “This is my brother, Bull Standing With Cow,” Two Humps introduced them. “His heart is heavy because he has lost his woman and his son.” The warrior motioned at the others. “All our hearts our heavy. Twenty sleeps ago our village was raided by a large band of Lakota. They struck early in the morning when the sun had not yet cleared the horizon. Many of our people were slain, and many horses were stolen.”

  Bull Standing With Cow grunted. “They also took three of our women,” he signed. “One is my daughter, Fetches Water. She has only seen fourteen winters.”

  Nate sympathized. He’d be devastated if the same thing ever happened to his wife or children. It was a long harbored dread of his that one day he would come back from a trapping trip and find them gone, kidnapped by one of his many enemies.

  “These Lakota have raided us before,” Two Humps went on. “They are Oglalas.”

  “I have heard of them,” Nate signed. They lived in the region of the South Platte River and had a reputation for being an extremely warlike tribe. The Lakota were more often called the ‘Sioux’ by most whites, the name stemming from an old French word for them, ‘Nadowessioux’.

  “They know no mercy, these Oglalas,” Two Humps said. “They killed all they could and then escaped before we could gather our scattered horses. Many brave men died that day protecting those they loved.”

  Nate did not need to be reminded how bloody Indian warfare could be. He had witnessed it firsthand. “So now you are on your way to Oglala country to try and rescue the women?” he speculated.

  “Yes,” Two Humps confirmed. “Bull Standing With Cow is sick inside with fear for his daughter. He wanted to come by himself, but I would not let him.”

  A young warrior whose stocky body rippled with muscles motioned in contempt and signed sharply, “The Lakota do not scare us! We will make them regret what they have done! They will learn that the Absaroka are not timid rabbits they can attack at will!”

  Two Humps frowned. “That is He Dog. He has never fought the Lakota. He was off hunting when our village was raided, or he would not be so eager to confront them again.”

  The stocky warrior was offended. “I fear no one!” he signed emphatically. “Let any man who claims I do tell me so to my face.”

  Bull Standing With Cow glowered at the younger man. “No one here questions your bravery. But courage alone does not win battles. A man must have wisdom. He must be able to think clearly at all times if he is to prevail.”

  “Are you saying I do not?”

  “I am saying you have much to learn before you will be a warrior the equal of Two Humps. Now be still and let your elders speak. Or have you lost your manners as well as your judgment?” Bull Standing With Cow shot back.

  Tension hung thick in the air. Nate knew that his friend had his work cut out for him. The Crows would have a hard enough time without petty bickering among themselves. “Just the nine of you against the whole Oglala tribe,” he commented. “Those are not good odds.”

  “Nine were all that could be spared,” Two Humps responded. “The rest had to stay to safeguard our village.” His dark eyes locked on Nate. “I was hoping we could lower the odds, Grizzly Killer. We have all seen for ourselves that your medicine is very powerful. You were the one who defeated the Iron Warrior. So I have come to you for help.”

  Winona was in the act of making a pot of coffee. She had carried the pot to the fireplace and was about to start a small fire when she happened to glance around and saw the Crow warrior sign his last statement. Forgetting the fire for the time being, she walked to the table and stood at her husband’s elbow to await his response.

  Nate did not quite know what to say. He liked Two Humps and considered the man a friend, but they were not all that close. The truth was that they hardly knew one another. In his opinion it was downright presumptuous of the Crow to ask him to risk his life. He was all set to decline, but the image of a terrified fourteen-year-old gave him pause.

  Two Humps seemed to read his thoughts. “I know I ask a lot of you, Grizzly Killer. But there is no one else to whom we can turn.” He leaned forward. “We do not know the country of the Lakotas very well. You do. Or at least you told me once that you had crossed the great sea of grass when you came to these mountains to live, and another time when you visited the Mandans.”

  Bull Standing With Cow broke in. “We do not want you to do our fighting for us, Grizzly Killer. We only ask that you guide us to the land of Oglalas by the shortest possible route. Once you have done that, you can turn around and head home if you want.” His weathered features shifted. A haunted aspect came over them. “Please, Grizzly Killer. As one father to another, I plead with you to help me rescue my daughter. I do not want her to spend the rest of her life as the unwilling wife of a Lakota who treats her worse than he does his dog.” He clasped his hands together. “Please.”

  Winona could tell that the heartfelt appeal touched her husband deeply. Knowing him as well as she did herself, she spoke up in English before he could reply. “Think this over carefully, husband. The Sioux are formidable foes. If they learn that you helped the Crows, they will not rest until they have taken their revenge.”

  “A man can’t turn his back on another in need,” Nate noted. “My mother used to quote from the Good Book a lot. And one of the sayings always stuck in my head. ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you’.”

  “White ways are not our ways,” Winona countered. “The Sioux have never heard of your Good Book. All they care about is counting coup on every white they find in their land.”

  Nate shifted to face her. “The girl is the main issue. How can we turn our backs on her?”

  “We do not know her.”

  “Does that mean we just leave her to her fate? If she were ours, we wouldn’t rest until she was safe and sound.”

  “She is not ours,” Winona stressed. It wasn’t that she had anything against the Crow girl. It was the fact that there was a definite possibility she would never set eyes on her husband again if he ventured into Lakota country that made her balk at the proposal.

  “I don’t see where that makes a difference. If Zach were missing and I went to Two Humps for help, you know as well as I do that he’d do all he could on our behalf.”

  Winona knew a losing cause when she saw one. Sighing, she tenderly touched his chin and said, “Sometimes you are too good for your own good. Very well. We will go with them.”

  “We?”

  “Stalking Coyote is old enough to go on a raid. And I will not be left behind.”

  Young Zachary King had been lounging against the counter with his arms folded acros
s his chest. He did not have much interest in the proceedings since he knew his father would go the moment the Crow asked and assumed that he’d be left behind once again to watch over his mother and sister. It was the same old story every time his father went traipsing off. So he was all the more shocked when he heard his mother say he should be in on the raid. Excitement quickened his pulse as he straightened and nodded. “I think Ma’s right,” he declared. “Some of the Shoshone boys my age have gone on raids already. And you said just a while ago, Pa, that I’m almost a full-growed man.”

  Nate wanted to bite his tongue. He had made the comment to bolster his son’s esteem, not to imply the boy was mature enough to go on the warpath. Having nothing better to retort, he responded curtly, “You stay out of this, young ’un. You’re not a man yet, and until you are, what I say goes.”

  “What we both say goes,” Winona corrected him, “and I say our son should join you. He will learn much. And his rifle will come in handy if the Lakotas spot us.”

  “There you go with that ‘us’ business again,” Nate griped. “A raid is no place for a woman with a baby.”

  “Evelyn will pose no problem. I will tend to her at all times,” Winona pledged. “And you know that she will not cry and give us away while we are on the trail, so you need not worry in that regard.”

  Nate gazed fondly at their infant. He had never quite grown accustomed to the Shoshone custom of toting a baby out into the woods every time it bawled and hanging the cradleboard from a high limb until it quieted down, but he had to admit the tactic worked. Four or five times of such harsh treatment was enough to stop most babies from ever blubbering aloud. They learned early on to keep their emotions under control, or else.

  It was a hard but essential lesson. The wail of an infant might give a village away to marauding enemies. Older children, when they played, knew to keep their voices down. It was a price they had to pay in the name of survival.