All these things contributed to the state of fear and depression she now dwelt in. But the one thing that injured her most was the coolness of John Welch. He was there to greet her when she had first returned from her ordeal. He had been obviously worried and concerned for her safety and was anxious to offer his assistance as a physician. But the thing she needed was his understanding and a show of affection. For one who had avowed his undying love for her so recently, he was now conspicuously detached. It was not hard to guess that he now saw her as defiled, damaged goods, and certainly less desirable than the fresh young virgin he had sought to woo. It was difficult for her to understand why he looked at her as if she had somehow betrayed him. She had done nothing wrong. His visits to her tent were polite and clinical with no mention of picnics or evening rides. The visits brought more pain to an already overloaded mind and she finally told him it was no longer necessary for him to call. He responded politely and graciously, saying that she could call on him anytime she needed medical assistance.
There was one whose attitude had not changed toward her, Jason Coles. If anything, he displayed a tenderness and thoughtful concern that was quite unexpected for one of his rough background. There was an honesty about Jason that she knew was real. He did not look down on her for having been raped by the Indian and he constantly concerned himself with persuading her that she should not be ashamed of it either. She knew he only remained in Camp Supply because of her. His work was ended with Stone Hand in custody. Still he was there to call on her at least once a day and sometimes more. She wondered if he would leave after Stone Hand’s hanging, which was scheduled two days hence. These were the thoughts that occupied her mind on this bright summer morning as she sat outside Cora Kennedy’s tent, soaking in the sun’s healing rays, watching Jason Coles approach on horseback.
“Morning, Sarah.” He stepped down from the saddle and threw the reins loosely over the tent rope.
“Morning, Jason,” she replied.
“Right pretty morning, ain’t it? How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she said, her tone not convincing. “Would you like some coffee? Mrs. Kennedy might have a biscuit left from breakfast if you’re hungry.”
She was at least making an effort to make light conversation, he thought. But the hurt was still in her eyes. “Why, yes, ma’am, I wouldn’t turn one of Cora’s biscuits down,” he said, still looking deep into her eyes. He hated seeing her this way and he could not help but blame himself for much of her sorrow. It had been a mistake on his part, telling Colonel Holder that Sarah had been violated by Stone Hand. But dammit, he was her father. He hadn’t expected the colonel to respond the way he did. If Jason had suspected that the colonel would inform John Welch about his daughter’s tragic encounter, he would have lied about it. Still, he supposed the colonel thought he should seek medical advice—thought he was doing the right thing. The young doctor’s reaction didn’t help Jason’s opinion of his integrity.
Cora, hearing the exchange from inside, came out with a cup of coffee and a plate with several biscuits on it. “I ain’t never known you, Jason Coles, when you wasn’t hungry.” She offered him the plate then looked at Sarah. “You want some coffee, honey?” Sarah shook her head no.
“It’s just that you make the best biscuits this side of the Canadian, Cora. Otherwise I’da said no.”
Cora looked at him in mock disgust. “Jason, you’re a bigger liar than Maxwell Kennedy.” She placed the plate in front of him. “I ain’t got time to chitchat with the likes of you. I’ve got chores to get done.” She left the two alone to talk.
They sat in silence for a few minutes while Jason sipped the hot liquid. Sarah felt no pressure to generate polite conversation. Jason was as comfortable with silence as anyone she had ever met. When he had finished the biscuit he was working on, he threw out the dregs of his coffee cup and sat down facing her.
“I reckon you’ll be thinking about going back to Baltimore before long.”
“You, too?” she replied. Then realizing that he had meant no more by it than to ask an honest question, she quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, Jason. It’s just that Daddy keeps pushing me to leave. I think he’ll just be a lot more comfortable when I’m gone.”
“Oh, I don’t think that, Sarah. Your daddy’s just awful busy, that’s all. And he’s worried about you.”
She smiled at his efforts to reassure her. “Perhaps,” she said. “But I think he’ll be a lot happier to have me gone.”
“Baltimore is a long way away from here,” he said. “It’s like another world. Folks back there don’t even know there’s a place like Camp Supply in the world.”
She smiled again. His attempt to influence her attitude was so obvious that she could not resist teasing him. “You’re not trying to work on my mind again, are you, Mr. Coles?”
He flushed. “Why no, ma’am, no such thing.”
“How about you? What are your plans? I guess you’re going to wait around to see the hanging.”
“I don’t know. It depends, I reckon. I might go north. I’ve got me a little valley staked out up in Colorado territory that would make a fine place to raise horses. It might be time to quit chasing around after Indians and settle down. It’s a mighty pretty little valley with good water and pasture-land.”
“It sounds like a peaceful place. Are you sure you’re ready to settle down? It might be a lonely life.”
“Well, yes, ma’am. It might be. I reckon it’d be a lot less lonely if I knew someone who wanted to go with me, raise a family maybe. It’d be a good life.”
“Is there someone?” she asked.
He quickly responded. “No, ma’am. I reckon I’m still looking for the right kind of woman.”
She smiled and looked directly into his eyes. “I hope you find her, Jason. You’re a fine man and any girl would be lucky to have you as a husband.” His eyes brightened for an instant, encouraged by her comment. Then she added, “She will have to be a woman of better stock than I. I don’t think I could ever live in a wilderness like your valley.”
No, I guess you couldn’t, he thought. To her he said, “Well, I think I’ll ride out for a little scout around the camp. Maybe I’ll run across a deer or something. I’m getting downright tired of salt pork.” He climbed up on his horse and turned to leave. As an afterthought he checked his horse and asked. “Are you going to stay on for a while?”
“I’ve been thinking about that and I’ve decided that maybe Daddy’s right. There’s no reason for me to stay here any longer. So I think I may as well go on back to Baltimore as soon as a patrol is heading back to Fort Cobb.”
“Oh,” was all he could reply for a moment. “Well, I’ll see you later.” He spurred his horse and rode away through the willows by the stream and out across the hills beyond.
He scolded himself for a fool as he rode away, blabbering on about his ranch in Colorado. When he took an honest look at the conversation he had just had, he realized that it must have seemed to her that he was hinting that she might go with him to his ranch. “Damn fool,” he muttered. “I bet she got a good laugh outta that.” Admittedly he had given it some thought, but it was more or less idle fantasy. He encouraged the little mare to pick up the pace, anxious to get far from the camp. “She like as not wouldn’t make much of a wife out here. She’s too used to city life. Hell…” He tried to dismiss it from his thoughts and decided a two-or-three-day hunting trip might help his mind right then.
* * *
Stone Hand stood motionless before the tiny window in the rough log guard house. He peered out through the iron bars for hours on end, looking toward the far hills. He drew his medicine from the hills. The spirits of the rocks and earth spoke to him. They told him that his medicine was strong, stronger than that of the soldier chiefs.
He ate very little of the food that was brought to him twice a day by the sentries, taking only a few bites now and then. He ignored the guard outside the window as well as the one by the door. At times he ap
peared to be in a trance, his eyes staring but seeming not to focus. It was during these times that he sought to communicate with the spirits and ask for their help to enable him to conquer his enemies.
He had very few visitors, since he had been a loner even among his own people. But there were occasional visits by one or two of the young men of the tribe. They would come from the reservation and stand outside the window and stare at the man who had taken so many white scalps, hoping to absorb some of his powerful medicine. Only occasionally would they speak to Stone Hand and he never responded beyond a grunt. It was a curious ceremony for the guards to observe. It was almost as though the Indians regarded the renegade as a spirit and they hoped to gain some measure of strength by simply being in his presence.
Because of the wall of silence between the reservation Indians and this most notorious of outlaws, the guard was quite surprised when a young Cheyenne of seventeen or eighteen brought the prisoner a corn cake wrapped in a cloth and asked if he could give it to Stone Hand. The guard permitted it but only after he had inspected the bundle and broken the bread into small pieces to make sure nothing was inside. Then he stepped back and motioned to the young boy to give it to the prisoner. He failed to notice the knife that was deftly slipped into the cloth as the boy pushed the bundle through the bars.
* * *
For the first time since Sarah had come to Camp Supply, John Welch declined an invitation to dine with the colonel and his daughter. The doctor was apologetic when he respectfully sent his regrets to his commanding officer, saying that he would not be able to return from the clinic at the reservation until late. Sarah was not surprised. John had avoided her since she had acquired the stigma of having been raped by an Indian. While she tried to convince herself that she would no longer have serious thoughts about the handsome young surgeon, still the rejection hurt her deeply. There was no way she could convince herself that her feelings for John were of a casual nature. She had fallen hard for him and it was not an easy thing to cast him from her mind. At times she almost convinced herself that she hated him when she thought about those terrified nights she had spent in captivity. She had prayed that John would find her, come to her rescue, and take her to safety in his arms.
She had always gotten more than the average amount of attention from the opposite sex, even when she was no more than a child. Now, to suddenly find herself undesirable and even to be avoided was enough to send her into a fit of depression. If her father shared her assessment of Captain Welch’s attitude, he made no mention of it. He took John’s excuse as legitimate and unavoidable. And since Jason Coles was out of the camp on a hunting trip, their only dinner guest was the colonel’s adjutant, Captain Horace Sykes. Sykes was not much in the way of a dinner companion. He was a man of middle age and so boringly obtuse that the three of them ate in virtual silence for the most part of the meal. They had just finished eating and the men were lighting cigars when an enlisted man rushed in with the shocking report that chilled the blood in her veins.
“The Injun got away!” he blurted to the stunned diners.
“Stone Hand?” Colonel Holder gasped.
“Yessir,” the excited trooper returned. “He killed both guards at the guard house, slit their throats and took off!”
There was a long moment of stunned silence before anyone spoke. Then the colonel. commanded, “Captain Sykes, mount a detachment right away. We can’t let that devil get away!”
“Sir,” Sykes responded, “you mean right now? I doubt if we’d have much luck trailing him in the dark.”
Colonel Holder hesitated. “No, of course not, I mean have a detachment ready to move out at first light. Where’s Jason Coles”
“He’s not in camp, sir. I think he’s on a hunting trip somewhere.”
“Where? Did he say where he was heading?” Colonel Holder did not like vague answers when he needed action.
“I don’t know, sir. You know Coles rarely tells anyone where he’s going.”
“Send somebody out to find him. Send one of the scouts. Tell him to get back here. I need him!”
Sarah, a terrified witness to the last few minutes, was aware only of the crashing beat of her heart against her breastbone. He was out! The beast had escaped, just as he had threatened when he promised to come back and kill her and Jason. Her brain was numb with fear as she sat silently at the table. The trembling in her hands went unnoticed in the urgency of the moment. Her father’s excited orders to his adjutant and Captain Sykes’s responses were but a distant echo in the far regions of her conscious mind, heard but not recorded. There was only one image that dominated her mind and seared an imprint on her brain…Stone Hand! His evil face filled her mind’s eye. He would come back! He would kill her!
* * *
The word spread quickly through the camp. When a sentry came to get the sergeant major, Cora Kennedy listened while she silently helped her husband on with his boots. As soon as he had left, her first thoughts were for Sarah Holder. She hurriedly picked up a shawl for her shoulders and went directly to the colonel’s tent. Not pausing to announce her presence, she raised the flap and entered to find what she feared she might find. Sarah Holder was still seated at the table, her supper only half finished, her eyes staring but unseeing.
“Oh, dear God,” Cora said. “You poor child.” She went to the frightened girl and putting her arms around her, pulled her close to her bosom. “You poor child.”
Sarah seemed to be in a trance. She did not respond beyond allowing herself to be cradled close to the older woman’s heart. Cora recognized the signs she saw in the glazed eyes of the young girl. She had seen it before in the faces of children after an Indian massacre. The wide-eyed, nonseeing look of a stunned animal told her that Sarah was in deep shock. She helped her to her feet and with her arm around her shoulders she walked Sarah back to her tent and helped her down on her cot. Sarah, still trancelike, did as she was directed without resisting. “You just rest there a bit, honey,” Cora said. “I’ll be right back with the doctor.”
Colonel Holder, occupied with his anger at having the notorious renegade escape, killing two of his men in the process, was unaware of his daughter’s condition until he saw Captain Welch and Cora Kennedy coming out of Sarah’s tent. He stopped abruptly as they approached him. “What is it?” he asked. “Is Sarah all right?”
Cora didn’t wait for the doctor to respond. “No she isn’t. Your daughter is bad off and she’s going to need some attention.”
Colonel Holder said nothing but glanced at John Welch, who spoke to confirm Cora’s diagnosis. “I’m afraid this latest thing has caused Sarah to go into shock. She seems to have lost touch with reality for the moment.”
The colonel was obviously taken aback. “What? Will she be all right?”
“I don’t know. There’s no way to tell on something like this. Usually, if it’s not too serious, a person will come out of it in a matter of a few minutes to a few hours. We just have to wait and see.”
“Can’t you do something for her, give her something?” The colonel was impatient.
John shrugged his shoulders. “There’s nothing I can give her. We just have to wait and see. She needs rest now. That’s all I can suggest. Her body has to recover from the strain her brain is undergoing.”
“Damn!” was all Colonel Holder could muster.
“I’ll stay with her,” Cora volunteered.
Holder was relieved. “Thank you, Cora. I really appreciate that. That devil is probably hightailing it as far away from here as he can run but I’m not taking any chances with that maniac. I’ll have a guard detail stationed by her tent.” He immediately turned his attention to the sergeant major, who was approaching from the command tent. “Somebody find Jason Coles!”
“I’m sending two scouts in opposite directions to find him. As soon as they get enough light to see, they’ll be on their way.”
CHAPTER 9
Jason stood for a few minutes, watching the lone rider in the distance un
til he was certain the man was definitely coming his way. Though the rider was still little more than a black speck pulling a small dust cloud, Jason felt it prudent to back his horse down below the crest of the hill. It was best to keep out of sight until the traveler was identified. There seemed to be little doubt the man was following the river and he appeared to be in a hurry. Jason dismounted and situated himself in the tall buffalo grass just below the crest of the hill. He checked his rifle and laid it down on the ground beside him and watched the horseman approach. Below him, beneath the crest of the hill, Birdie snorted, now aware of the approaching horse. Jason gazed at his horse for an extended moment. Birdie was a dependable mount but she was no match for Henry. Jason sorely missed Henry. He felt his loss more than for that of any horse he had ever owned. The little mare was a willing replacement though and Jason resolved not to become so attached to her as he had to Henry. Max Kennedy jokingly referred to Jason’s horses as the ugliest collection of uncurried flesh on the prairie, but Jason knew his Indian ponies were head and shoulders above the army’s sleek mounts when it came to taking care of a man in the open.
He glanced back in the direction of the approaching rider. He could make out the man’s features now as he neared the bend in the river below the hill Jason was crouched upon. It appeared to be Long Foot, one of the colonel’s scouts. He was easy to recognize by the way he rode slouched over in the saddle, giving the impression that he was sleeping as he rode. Jason stood up and took the few steps to the top of the hill.
“Long Foot!” he yelled, waving his arms above his head.
Stone Hand Page 11