“Here? You mean here in the village? On the reservation?”
Sam nodded.
“Why that…He’s a gutsy son of a bitch! You’re telling me he was right here under the army’s nose last night?”
“He goes where he pleases,” Sam said stoically.
“Where did he go? Did he say where he was heading?” The thought of the brazen renegade rubbing the army’s nose in it was enough to get Jason’s blood hot.
“He never says. Only Stone Hand knows where he goes.”
“Aw, horse manure, Sam. He’s got you people believing he’s some kind of spirit.” Jason was tired of playing the game. “Did you see which way he rode out?”
“Yessir, I did. He rode out to the south, if that helps you any, but I doubt you’ll have much luck trailing him.” He watched Jason climb up into the saddle before he added, “Jason, I ain’t no personal friend of Stone Hand, nobody is. I can’t tell you much more than what I see. And I reckon if he found out I told you anything at all, you might see my hair hanging on his lance.”
“I appreciate it, Sam. I reckon I’ll go see if I can catch a ghost.”
“You better watch your back.”
Stone Hand wasn’t the only one who rode out to the south that morning. There were tracks of a dozen or more ponies leaving camp in that direction, hunting parties looking for the little game that could still be found. Counting on the stories he had heard, that Stone Hand was a loner, Jason followed the common trail, disregarding trails that branched off showing two or more ponies. He stayed with the trail until he came to a small stream where one set of tracks crossed over to the other side and headed east. He was riding on a hunch that his man was not leading a packhorse. Stone Hand seemed the type to prefer riding one horse to death and then stealing a replacement. It seemed like a long shot but Jason had little else to go on so he stayed with the trail. He was to have no better luck than the first time he had trailed the Indian. After spending most of the day tracking Stone Hand, Jason was stopped cold when the trail petered out at the edge of a steep ravine.
“Well, damn. Did he just take off and fly?” he muttered in disgust and backed Henry in an effort to see if the Cheyenne had backtracked on him. If he did, he had been too clever for Jason to catch him at it. Jason, frustrated, spent the rest of the day scouting in a circle, trying to pick up the trail. Finally, he had to give up and admit another defeat at the hands of the Cheyenne warrior.
When he returned to Camp Supply that night, he learned from Max Kennedy that a settler and his wife had been murdered over on the Arkansas River. A patrol discovered the bodies that afternoon and reported that they were badly mutilated and the cabin burned to the ground. Out of curiosity, Jason asked if the victims had a slit through the left eyebrow.
“As a matter of fact, they did. How’d you know that?”
“Just a hunch,” Jason replied. To himself he thought, Well, now I know where he was yesterday.
* * *
Jason was greeted by Captain Horace Sykes, Colonel Holder’s executive officer, when he reported in that night. The colonel had decided to go on patrol, an overnight march, with B Company to Lame Dog’s camp. Had he known Jason would be back that night, he probably would have waited for the scout to lead the patrol. As it was, it was after nine when Jason returned. Sarah Holder had retired to her tent and John Welch was sitting in the headquarters tent talking to Captain Sykes.
“Well, Mr. Coles, how is the hunt for your renegade progressing? I’m surprised to see you back here. I thought you’d be out trailing him.”
Jason looked at the young surgeon for a moment before answering. “The hunt isn’t progressing very fast,” he replied, “and I’m back here in camp because that’s where the trail leads.”
Captain Welch was confused. “I don’t understand. You think he’s here in Camp Supply?”
“Well, he was last night. I don’t know where he is tonight but he seems to want to stay close to the army, I reckon to show us he can go where he damn well pleases.”
“I guess I should keep a close eye on Miss Holder then, if what you say is true.”
“Yeah, I reckon,” Jason responded. In his mind, he wondered what good the doctor would do for Sarah Holder if Stone Hand was around. He was pretty sure Welch would keep a close eye on Sarah even if there wasn’t a savage within fifty miles. He said good night to the two officers and retired to the far edge of the camp where the horses were grazing. Before settling into his blankets, he told the trooper on horse guard of his presence. He didn’t want some trigger-happy guard stumbling over him in the middle of the night.
* * *
He was awake the next morning with the first rays of the sun. He didn’t get out of his blanket right away, preferring to lie there for a few minutes and consider his options. Where to start his search again, he could only guess. Stone Hand was too unpredictable to try to establish a pattern. The only thing that approached a constant was the man’s audacity and his penchant for sticking close to his enemies. Jason was beginning to think Stone Hand believed in his invincibility as much as his fellow tribesmen did. Maybe he should go back to talk to Sam Running Fox again. It made little sense to ride out to the settler’s cabin on the Arkansas. He needed a fresh trail to follow and he didn’t have any idea where to search for one.
He rolled over on his side, preparing to get up when his eye caught sight of something on his saddle beside his head. At first he thought it was a caterpillar. It was hairy and approximately that size. But it didn’t look like any caterpillar he had ever seen before. He sat up to examine it more closely and then realized what he was looking at. It was no caterpillar or worm of any kind. It was a human eyebrow. He bolted out of his blanket and looked quickly around him. There was no one near him. He looked toward the herd of horses grazing peacefully by the river bed. All seemed peaceful. Off to his right the usual sounds of an army camp awakening indicated nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
His initial reaction after that first startling discovery was anger, anger at himself. The brazen son of a bitch had sneaked right up on him and left his gruesome calling card. Jason was not a heavy sleeper. He could be fully alert at the sound a crow makes walking across a grassy meadow. It was a characteristic necessary for survival in his line of work. How then was this man able to walk right into an armed camp and lay this piece of flesh and hair right beside him without waking him? More than anger, it caused an unsettled feeling in his mind and he couldn’t help but recall Sam Running Fox’s words about the man he hunted. He wondered no more than a moment about why he was still alive. That was easy to answer. The savage was playing with him, letting Jason know he knew he was being hunted, daring him to come after him. He showed his contempt for the white scout by not killing him and counting coup on the sleeping man. The thought of that savage standing over him, watching him as he slept, vulnerable and helpless as a baby, infuriated Jason. This was no ordinary maverick Indian. This renegade amused himself with mind games. His message was clear—he could take the army scout anytime he wanted.
At least the two men had an understanding now, and Stone Hand, by his actions, let it be known that the game was on, if the white man still had the stomach for it. Jason gathered his blankets and picked up his saddle pack. He noted with some chagrin that his visitor did not even steal his rifle. “Well, that might have been a mistake, mister,” he muttered. “You might better wish you had shot me while you had the chance.”
After Henry was saddled, Jason scouted around his bed, looking for sign that would tell him how the renegade had approached. It didn’t take long because the tracks were obvious. There was no attempt to disguise them, another show of contempt on Stone Hand’s part and an obvious indication that the Cheyenne wanted Jason to know that he had simply walked right by the sentry and stood over the sleeping form of the Indian scout. Jason had a feeling that he wouldn’t have to worry about tracking the Indian all over the territory. No, this rebel was a breed apart. His ego, or arrogance, o
r whatever, would dictate that he stay close to Jason, taunting and tempting until he tired of the game and decided to kill him.
Recovered now from his initial anger, Jason was able to look at his situation with more rational thought. He even had to smile as he realized that the game was on. Sam Running Fox thought Jason was trailing a spirit but Jason didn’t think so, and as long as he was mortal Stone Hand was as vulnerable as any man to be bested. “All right, Big Medicine, we’ve dealt this hand. We’ll just see who’s the best poker player.”
CHAPTER 5
The morning was fresh and bright, a perfect day for a picnic, she decided. The thought of spending the afternoon with Captain John Welch was a pleasant one. She had tried to remind herself that she was not looking for involvement with any man, especially on a brief visit to the frontier. Still, she was reluctant to admit there had been a quickening of her heartbeat when the dashing young officer rode up, leading a horse for her. God, she thought, he is a handsome devil. She could see that any young girl might be mesmerized by the finely chiseled features and the regal mane of dark black hair that never seemed out of place, even in such crude surroundings as Camp Supply.
Her first impression of the young doctor, that he was a harmless flirt, had been somewhat tempered in her conversations with him over the past few days. He seemed to be genuinely taken by her and she had to admit that she found it to be more than a little disturbing to her sense of control. Was she at last beginning to feel the amorous stirrings that preceded infatuation? I must sweep such thoughts out of my mind right now before I start wondering what it would be like to be in his arms, she told herself.
“Sarah, you look as bright as the morning sun. Are you ready to go?”
She favored him with a warm smile and replied, “Why, thank you, sir. Yes, I’m ready.” He helped her up in the saddle and they rode out across the rough parade ground toward a small clump of willows that lined the banks of the shallow stream, no more than a quarter of a mile from the command tent.
What happened that day, in the balmy shade of the willows, came as a complete surprise to Sarah Holder. She had no plans to fall in love with the handsome young army surgeon. Her thoughts of him, up to that day, had been mere flights of fantasy, solely to amuse herself. John Welch, on the other hand, had thought of nothing but the wooing and winning of the colonel’s daughter. In his eyes she was the perfect candidate for a career officer’s wife…beautiful, vivacious, educated…and the daughter of a colonel.
Though somewhat calculating in his thoughts of capturing the prize that was Sarah Holder, still he had to admit that he was totally charmed by the young lady and might have sought to woo her even had she not been the colonel’s daughter. He had already decided he was in love. Sarah had yet to discover her infatuation. After the horses were tied to a willow, John spread a cloth beside the stream. He selected a spot just below the rise of the bank so as not to be in constant view of the camp.
“I’m afraid it’s not what you might call an elegant lunch,” she commented cheerfully. “But I think Sergeant Ortiz did a wonderful job under the circumstances.” She held up a biscuit for him to see. “It could be a crumpet if you exercised your imagination a bit.”
He laughed and reached to take it from her, his fingers brushing hers. “It is the most elegant of picnics if only because I’m sharing it with you.”
She blushed. “Why, Captain Welch, are your flirting with me?”
His expression sobered and he reached out and took her hands in his. “No, Sarah, I’m not. It’s far beyond that. I’m in love with you.”
His blunt declaration of love sent her senses reeling. She had not been prepared for it. The shock must have shown in her eyes because John recoiled as if he had been rebuked. He quickly stammered, “Please, I don’t mean to be too forward. I hope you’ll forgive my bluntness but I hope you feel…” He didn’t finish the statement. “I’m sorry. Have I offended you?”
The concern in his eyes melted her heart. “No, John, I’m not offended. I’m just a little surprised, that’s all. That’s quite a mouthful, combined with Sergeant Ortiz’s biscuit.”
“Damn. I really feel like an ass…a simple schoolboy.” He released her hands. “Do you want me to take you back?”
She reached out, taking his hands in hers. “No, of course not. I don’t want you to take me back. I want to stay here and talk and have our picnic.”
Encouraged, he pressed her for an answer. “Do you feel anything at all for me? Or am I in this thing alone?”
She laughed. “This is all a little too sudden for me.” Before his face could cloud up again, she added, “But, yes, I feel something for you.”
At once his smile returned and once again there was hope in his eyes. “Oh, Sarah, I do love you and if you’ll give me the chance, I’ll make you love me.” He did not wait for her to respond. “You know, I won’t be assigned to this godforsaken outpost for long. We could go back East. If the army won’t transfer me back, I’ll resign my commission and go into private practice.”
Sarah could not help herself. She could feel herself being caught up in the excitement of his proposal and had to force herself to remain in control. She looked deeply into his eyes, seeing a new image of Captain John Welch, one that she found desirable. “Let’s not rush into anything. You haven’t even given me time to catch my breath.”
“Do you love me?” he asked bluntly.
“I don’t know.” She hesitated. “Yes, I love you.” She blushed, surprised by her own answer.
He pulled her closer to him. He kissed her. She let him, passive at first and then she returned it, having found the passion that she knew was in her but until that moment had never been permitted to surface.
The midday sun was warm as it embraced the two lovers lying on the army blanket beneath the willows. John was eager to love her and she responded to his passion. He drew her closer and closer to him until their bodies were pressed together as one. The young doctor was intoxicated with the magic of the moment. His fire engulfed her and she was swept away in the tide of his passion. She had not thought to let it go that far. The afternoon ended all too soon.
“Let’s just keep this our little secret for awhile,” she said when it was time to go back.
“Whatever you say, darling. I’m just the happiest man in the world.”
Afterward, when she was alone in her tent, thinking of the incredible change that had taken place on that day, she found it almost too much to believe. Had it really happened? It must have. She could still feel the fire that had raged through her thighs, leaving her weak and warm. But was she really in love? Or was it the passion of the moment? Possibly the surroundings she found herself in inspired a disproportionate balance between infatuation and genuine love. And John Welch would not have overwhelmed her so had the location been in the park in Baltimore instead of this isolated outpost. Mrs. John Welch? Could it be possible? I guess it could, Sarah girl, she told herself. You could do a whole lot worse.
* * *
“So, Mr. Coles, I see you’re still with us. I thought you might be riding out after your renegade.”
Jason turned to see Sarah Holder approaching the mess tent where he stood drinking a cup of coffee. “Morning, Miss Holder.” He watched, amused, as the colonel’s daughter glided through the group of men standing around the tent, causing them to jump to attention, stumbling over one another to get out of her way. She graced the assembly with her smile and thanked Sergeant Ortiz for the cup of coffee he had hastened to fetch for her. It was her nature, Jason decided, to shun the privacy of her tent and ignore the breakfast no doubt delivered there for her convenience. The cook, expecting a complaint and consequently a dressing-down by the colonel’s daughter, fumbled for words.
“Can I help you, ma’am? Was something wrong with your breakfast? I can sure cook you some…”
“Oh, it was fine, very good.” She didn’t let him finish. “I just thought I’d like some more coffee.” Her smile put the flustered
man at ease.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered.
Jason, enjoying the havoc the little lady could wreak just by showing up in the mess tent, said nothing until she turned to face him again. “You better be careful with that coffee. That tin cup will blister your lips.” He figured the coffee served with her breakfast might have been sipped from a china cup.
“Thanks for the warning but I’ve had coffee from an army cup.” She settled herself on a camp stool and smiled up at the tall scout. She said nothing for a few moments, her smile seemingly frozen on her face and Jason realized that he was staring at her…and she was aware of it.
“Well,” he blurted abruptly, “I reckon I better get to work.”
“You’re always running off someplace, Mr. Coles. I declare, I believe I must have that effect on you.” She flashed her smile again and pretended to be offended.
Jason considered her coquettish gesture for a moment before answering. “No, ma’am, I wouldn’t say that. I figured Captain Welch was taking care of the social activities for you.”
His remark brought a twinkle to her eye. It pleased her that his thoughts were running along that vein. Maybe he looked upon the surgeon as competition. Was it possible this rough-hewn frontiersman was not as indifferent to her charms as he had taken pains to show. She pretended to concentrate on the hot cup of coffee in her hand as she studied the rugged face that under her gaze seemed to appear slightly flushed. She could not deny a keen fascination for the man her father had described as more Indian than some full-blooded Cheyennes. She decided to probe his intentions a bit further.
“We had a delightful picnic in the willows yesterday. Captain Welch arranged for a basket from Sergeant Ortiz, and I must say, it was surprisingly elegant.” She watched his face closely for his reactions. “I wish you could have joined us,” she added.
Jason began to fidget. He was uncomfortable with the conversation and he realized he was being drawn into a childish game with a girl barely out of her studies. “Thank you, ma’am, but I don’t reckon I’m much on picnicking.”
Stone Hand Page 6