by John Foxjohn
Cap reached out and picked up one of the rocks as if it would blow up in his hand. He held it up to what little light was in the lodge and watched in amazement as the light reflected off the rock. Finally, he eased it back on the robe. “Ah, Bull, um, where did you get all of this?”
“To the north,” Andy said. “Are they…valuable?”
“Valuable?” Cap asked in a reasonable tone that didn’t last long. Cap’s voice picked up in intensity. “You have at least two hundred pounds of gold and you ask if it is valuable?”
Andy reached over and scratched Sunka’s neck. The dog turned his head and licked Andy’s hand. Andy sighed. He didn’t understand Cap’s questions. He’d asked Andy the same questions Andy had just asked him. “Yes, um…are they worth money?”
“Bull, listen to me,” Cap said, leaning toward him “Most men out here would try to kill you for this gold. It must be worth twenty thousand dollars.”
The number played around in Andy’s head but didn’t mean much. He’d never heard it before, and had no reference to what it meant. The only number he knew that sounded like it meant a lot was a hundred. He didn’t know how much it was, but the men in Heath seemed to think it was a lot. Finally he asked, “Is that more than a hundred dollars?”
Cap’s eyes almost bugged out. “You’re kidding me, right?” He stared at Andy for a long moment, and then shook his head. “I don’t know what all is going on here, but Bull, it’s about two hundred times as much.”
Andy nodded as if he knew what Cap was talking about. In a way he did, but he didn’t, either. Two hundred sounded better than a hundred. Andy watched Cap pick up a yellow rock, examine it, put it down, and pick up another one. The man had an expression of pure joy, like a child with a new toy.
“We need to leave,” Andy said. “Can you ride?”
“Does a bear mess in the woods?” Cap asked.
“Of course they do. Where else…would they? What does that have to do with…riding? Can you ride?”
“Sure, ease up, Bull. Just joking. It’s dark; you want to leave now or in the morning?”
Andy turned and opened the flap, and asked a boy in the Lakota language to bring Big Red and his buckskin. Andy had several horses he kept with the Indian herd.
“Need to leave, now,” Andy said.
A few minutes later, with full darkness on them, Andy led them out of camp to the north, opposite of the direction they’d come in, with Sunka guarding their rear. Dogs barked behind them, the only sound but the soft clomp of the horse’s hooves and the creak of leather. After an hour of travel, Andy stopped Big Red and eased out of the saddle.
As Cap dismounted, he asked, “Where’re we going?”
“I need to…trade yellow rocks in for money. Where can I do that?”
“Those yellow rocks as you call them are called gold, Bull. I need to ask you something. How is it you speak the Indian language like it is your own but have so much trouble with English? Also, why is it you don’t know the basic things most whites would know?”
He had been afraid this would come up. He’d told others, people who were friendly toward him, about his background. Once they knew his story, for some reason, they changed their attitude toward him. The friendliness left and some wouldn’t even speak to him. He sucked in a pine-laden breath. “When I was little, my…folks was killed. Everyone killed. The Lakota raised me. When the soldiers…un, killed my brother. They made me become a white.”
“Your brother?” Cap asked.
“My… how do you say it, um…adopted brother.”
“I think I get it. You had an Indian brother. Not a real one.”
Andy was petting Shunka, but snapped his gaze up. “Tashunke Witco was real.”
In the moonlight the frown lines on Cap’s forehead was evident. “I’ve heard that name somewhere.”
“My brother was a great warrior. One of the greatest ever. The whites called him Crazy Horse.”
Cap almost swallowed his tongue. He was even more surprised than when he’d seen those gold rocks.
Standing, Andy pulled some grass and wiped Big Red down as minutes passed. Finally, Cap spoke. “You’re Crazy Horse’s brother?” He pointed with his thumb in the direction they’d come. “That must have been his father back there.”
“Yes, my father, too.”
Cap nodded, but the frown lines increased. “You fought with him.”
Andy wasn’t sure if what he said was a question or not, so he didn’t say anything.
“Were you at the battle of the Little Big Horn?”
“Yes,” Andy said, “but we called it the Greasy Grass.”
“Why Greasy Grass? I haven’t heard that one.”
“The…um…sheep love that place. They leave their…stuff behind. It makes the grass slippery. You slip in it, you stink.”
The horses snorted as Andy and Cap stood in the darkness, visible in the moonlight. Andy said, “I understand English. I just don’t always know…meaning of words. Sometimes you say words I don’t know.”
“How old were you when you went to live with the Indians?”
He couldn’t count the amount of times people had asked him that. “Maybe eight, maybe younger. Not real sure.”
“That explains the language problem,” Cap said as Andy mounted.
When Cap had mounted his own horse, he said, “If you fought with the Indians, I don’t imagine you get along with a lot of whites in this area. A lot of hard feelings.”
“No, not many. I also had a…Indian wife.” He shrugged. “They do not like.”
Cap’s eyes widened in surprise. “You have a wife?”
“No, had. Long time ago. She died in…childbirth.” Instead of riding off, Andy half-turned in his saddle to face Cap. “You leaving now?”
“Leaving? Why would I do that?” Then it dawned on him. “You think I’m going to leave because of your background? Podnar, I’m not made like that. For one, you saved my life. For another, you can’t help how you were raised. I wouldn’t care if you were an Indian. I don’t judge people by their race, but the kind of person they are. As it happens, though, you’re white.”
The afternoon sun sank on Andy and Cap as they rode through grass belly-deep to the horses. Their noses clogged with the scent of grass and wild flowers, and hawks screamed overhead. They rode through the miles of vast rolling grassland after they left the plains, heading northeast.
They rode down a slope into a valley as green as a picture. Andy pulled up near a fast creek and Cap beside him.
“Bull—” Cap started to say but Andy jerked a hand up.
“Listen for a moment.”
It didn’t take Cap long to hear what Andy had. A low whisper of the water gurgling over rocks created a rhythm for the breeze trickling down the slope. The breeze along with the water created a lyric, as sweet as candy, in the grass and leaves of the cottonwoods and willows bordering the creek.
Looking around in awe, Cap exclaimed, “My God, Bull, this place is beautiful.”
“I call it… Valley of Windsong,” Andy said as he dismounted.
Saddle leather creaked when Cap dismounted and tied his horse to a nearby bush. Andy laid his reins on the ground and led the way upstream. Cap grumbled as he followed. “I hope we don’t have far to go. These boots were made for riding, not walking. I don’t have moccasins like yours.”
“Not far. I could make you some moccasins,” Andy said over his shoulder.
Cap grumbled something under his breath, but Andy paid no attention. He kept going along the creek. They entered a stand of cottonwoods, waded across a narrow part of the creek, and found themselves looking at a large bench area overlooking the creek. The flat grassland of the bench encompassed at least ten acres. Steep flowing slopes with grass swaying with the wind bordered the bench on three sides.
Andy indicated the bench. “I came through here…years ago. Decided I’d live here one day.”
“Your English is getting better,” Cap said.
He and Cap had spent several days and nights traveling and talking, Andy asking him the meaning of words or phrases. The more they talked, the easier the words and their meaning came to Andy. He found himself at times speaking without having to think of the words.
“Do you think cattle will thrive in this area?” Cap asked.
“You said a ranch needs four things…grass, water, and land offering shelter from winter. This is called Owl Creek. It’s small, but it runs off a small river called Bad River. Good water but sometimes gets low in summer.”
“That’s not an endorsement for a cattle ranch, Bull,” Cap said, chuckling.
Andy frowned. He wasn’t sure what endorsement meant, but it didn’t sound good. He looked around, found a stick and squatted. With the stick, Andy pointed to the northeast. “A day’s ride in that direction is the southern end of Lake Oahe (oh-WAH'-hee). It’s a long narrow lake.” He drew the lake in the dirt. “The Missouri flows into the lake from the north and out of the lake going almost east of us.” He drew the river in the dirt. “The Missouri is a large river that has never dried up since time first began.”
On the northern part of the lake, Andrew drew a line in the dirt going southwest. “This is the Cheyenne River. Across the river is the Cheyenne reservation.”
As Cap studied the map, he drew another line representing another river, but this one south of the lake and running west. “This is the White River.”
Andy studied the map in the dirt then extended the White River further west until it almost ran into the Cheyenne River running southwest. “Bad River that Owl Creek runs off of is almost in the middle of the Cheyenne and White River. Neither is ever dry.”
Squatting next to Andy, Cap cocked his head and studied the map a moment, and then said, “Are you telling me that all this grass is basically surrounded by rivers that never dry up?”
“Yes,” Andy said. “You also said the place needs to offer shelter in the winter. Because most of the water in this area runs east to west, this whole area is filled with…what’d you call the deep ditches?”
Absently, Cap said, “Coulees.”
“Coulees,” Andy continued. “They run east and west and protect from the north wind.”
“How in the world did you find this place, Bull?”
“When the People were hungry, we could always come here and find buffalo. They liked to winter here because of the grass, water, but also the protection from the north wind. In the summers, the rivers always flow.”
“Let me show you something,” Andy said. Without waiting, he walked along the creek bed, through the stand of trees, and came out on a low, green area, but different from the grass they’d just left. Andy squatted and plucked some of the curly matted grass growing close to the ground. He handed it up to Cap. “We call this buffalo grass because the buffalo love it. It always comes back in the spring no matter how dry it is or how many buffalo run over it.”
Hand over his mouth, Cap stood looking at the buffalo grass and the lay of the land as minutes passed. Finally he said, “Bull, you might have found the most perfect place in the country for a cattle ranch.”
Cap was silent for another stretch of time as he looked over the country. He shook his finger at Andy. “I told you that four things were required. You only mentioned three. Remember, the fourth one was ‘courage to hold and defend what is yours.’ You have found a place here people will try to take from you. Make no mistake about it. But that is the least of your troubles. You’ve found gold.” He held his hand up to stop Andy from speaking. “I don’t know where you found it; don’t want to know, either. But you had better get ready because people are going to go out of their way to find out. Since you are the one who knows, they’ll be coming for you.”
Chapter Fifteen
With total darkness surrounding a small fire emitting a tinge of wood smoke and coffee, Andy and Cap relaxed. They were on a small creek a day’s ride from Heath. In the morning they would split up—Andy heading for Heath and Cap south to Fort Laramie. There he would file homestead claims on as much land as they’d let him, and then grab a train to Texas.
“You sure you want to trust me with this?” Cap asked. He was taking most of the gold, going to the assayer to trade it in for money, then to Texas to buy cattle to bring north for the ranch. Over the last month they’d worked out a partnership. Andy would provide the money and the knowledge of the land, as well as work it. Cap would provide the knowledge of cattle, make the trip to Texas, find cattle and hire men, then drive them to Windsong, the name Andy gave the ranch. When they had it operating, they would split the profits down the middle.
What took them so long to make the agreement was a little stipulation Andy had put in, and it surprised Cap. Andy would have the final say on anything concerning the ranch. On that point, he would not concede.
Finally, since Andy was contributing probably twenty thousand dollars to the endeavor, Cap agreed.
“I trust you,” Andy said. “I have the gold and you have the…knowledge.” Andy’s English had increased tenfold since he and Cap had left Worm’s lodge. “I cannot build a ranch without what you have, and you cannot without me.”
Cap glanced down at the moccasins Andy wore. “You still planning on wearing them into Heath?”
“Yes, they are comfortable. I like them better than boots. I should not have to wear what they want me to. I should be able to wear what I want to just as they do.”
“You’re right and that is the longest sentence I have heard you say. You learn fast.”
“You going to get the white-faced bulls?” Andy asked.
“Right now, people in the east are clamoring for beef. They don’t care what it looks like, and cattle buyers are paying for anything that walks and has hair.” He pointed a finger at Andy. “Mark my words, it won’t be long, and the buyers will only pay top dollar for the beef that has the most meat on it. That’s not the Texas longhorn. Too rangy. Too lean. Now, if we take one of those lean, rangy longhorns that can stand the elements, and combine it with those white-faced, I bet we come out with a big, sturdy cow with a lot of meat on the bone. The kind that will demand top dollar.”
Sunka walked past Cap and he reached out to pet him. He jerked his hand back just as the dog snapped, missing his fingers by inches.
“Come here, boy,” Andy called.
When Sunka snuggled up close to Andy, Cap shook his head. “Almost forgot that damn wolf won’t let anyone touch it but you. How do you do that, anyway, Bull?”
“He just came up to me.” Andy shrugged. “I helped him out, and he stayed.”
Cap chuckled. “Sounds like me.”
Andy put his cup down and stretched out, covering himself and the dog with the blanket.
The morning was cool but with no clouds, an indication it would turn out to be a hot one. Both Andy and Cap sat their horses, not moving, reluctant to part. Andy hadn’t had many friends, and he wasn’t sure he liked this one going all the way to Texas and driving a herd of cows back by himself. But Andy wouldn’t know how to begin. What he did know how to do was build, and by the time Cap got back with the cows, he could have their homes built.
“Watch yourself in Heath,” Cap said. “That place isn’t long for this world.”
“What do you mean?”
“That town exists only because of the fort and the reservation. Without them, the town dies. I heard the gov’ment was moving that reservation. If they do, then the fort will move. That means the town dies.”
Leaning over, Andy rubbed the horse’s neck. Where would Abbey go if the town died? She was out of his reach but that didn’t mean he didn’t care. A deep, dull pain throbbed inside him every time he thought about her.
“I’ll do my best to take care of the money,” Cap said.
The two men clasped hands. “You take care of yourself,” Andy said. “We can always get more money.”
With Sunka sitting in the grass beside Big Red, Andy watched for a long time as Cap rode off, even
after Cap had disappeared from sight. Finally, he turned Big Red, with four packhorses trailing, for Heath. He wasn’t going to be there long. He would need a lot of supplies—enough maybe to last the winter. He would hunt for meat and store it, but there was no place to get coffee, sugar, and other staples. Besides, he needed tools to build with. Of course, he didn’t need to go to Heath to get those things. He could have ridden to Fort Laramie with Cap and to get them. But Abbey was in Heath, and he’d like to see her one more time, at least.
In early afternoon, caked with trail dust, Andy topped a low hill and pulled up. Although he couldn’t see the town from where he was, it lay over the next ridge. Because he had enemies, most of them in or around Heath, he was cautious. Finally, he decided to circle to the west. He would come to his cabin in the woods before he reached town. He could clean up and leave the horses there to rest up. Depending on how long it took to get and load his supplies and talk to Abbey, he hoped to be on the trail by nightfall.
The longer he stayed the more chances he had of running into trouble.
His first indication of a problem was when Big Red stopped and shook his head. He didn’t want to go on. Andy had to tap his ribs with his heel to get him to move forward. He found the burned area before he came to the cabin, or where the cabin had been. Now there was nothing but a pile of ashes.
As the horses shifted nervously, not liking the burned odor, Andy stared at the place. The fire obviously started in the cabin, and he would bet money someone had set it on fire.
The place wasn’t much. Actually wasn’t even his. He’d rented it, and didn’t leave anything of his in it, but it still saddened him. He had lived there. The fire didn’t represent what the people thought of the cabin, but what they thought of him.
He blew out a loud breath and turned the horses away. He was leaving and not coming back, anyway. In the end it didn’t mean anything.