Knowing it would be impossible to ride along the shallow creek without being seen from the camp, he struck out straight toward some low hills to the south of the village, keeping the tipis between him and the Commanches. He would gain the cover of the hills before circling around to pick up Sarah and Magpie.
From her vantage point behind the rise, Magpie saw Jason gallop away toward the south. Instantly sizing up the situation, she helped Sarah onto Jason’s horse. Scrambling up on hers, she led them out of the bottom and set off in a direction to rendezvous with Jason.
Jason pushed the Appaloosa for all the speed it would give him. The ground was rough but the horse proved nimble enough to take it at full speed. He doubled back toward the Commanche camp and as he cleared an enormous outcropping of rock, he saw the two women galloping to meet him.
“Good girl,” he murmured as they pulled up to him. Magpie was in the lead. She carried the baby. Sarah followed. As soon as they were even with him he wheeled his horse and led them away toward the hills to the east.
They rode hard until Jason knew they had to let up or the horses would falter. His primary thought was to put as much distance between them and the Commanches as possible. There was no communication between the three of them. The women followed doggedly behind him as he led them across flat barren stretches of sagebrush, through shallow streams, by isolated stands of cottonwoods, always pressing toward the distant hills. The only sounds that were heard were the constant drumbeat of the horses’ hooves and the rhythmic thumping of their labored breathing. Finally he feared for the horses’ lungs and he knew he must rest them. He slowed them to a walk and after another mile he stopped in a small stand of trees next to a trickle of water.
Jason walked back to the top of a grass-covered hill to watch their back trail to make sure no one was following them. That was one of the reasons he walked back. The other was to give Sarah a moment of privacy to nurse her baby. The infant started crying the moment Magpie dismounted and handed him to Sarah. It struck Jason that the baby looked more natural in Magpie’s arms than he did in his mother’s. Sarah seemed to be in a trance. She took her baby and immediately untied her blouse. It was done without emotion, almost unconsciously. Jason could only wonder at the abuse she must have suffered at the hands of Stone Hand. Her bruised face was evidence enough of her physical torment. The cuts and bruises would soon heal. He feared the scars in her mind would be a lot longer in healing.
When he returned to their hastily made camp, Magpie was holding the baby once more. She was gently rocking the infant and cooing to him in the Osage tongue. Sarah sat beside the small fire Magpie had built, seemingly oblivious to the baby now that she had performed her duty. When Jason approached, she stared up at him for a long time without speaking.
“Are you all right, Sarah?” She did not answer but continued to stare blankly as if seeing through him. He tried to comfort her. “Everything’s gonna be all right now. I think we got a good enough head start. It’ll be a while before they’ll even know which way we went.” He waited for her response. Just when he decided she was not going to answer, she spoke.
The words were low and trancelike and she looked straight ahead when she talked. “I haven’t got much milk anymore.” He started to reassure her that that was all right when she continued. “He’ll come after me. He’ll keep coming after me till he kills me.”
“No…no, Sarah.” He wanted to convince her that she was safe. “I’m not going to let him kill you.”
She laughed. It was a humorless laugh. “You can’t stop him. He’ll kill you, too.” She stared into the fire. “We should have left the baby. He wants the baby.”
It pained him to hear her talk like that. Long Foot and Raven had offered to take the baby in the beginning but after it was born Jason thought Sarah might change her mind.
Magpie’s English was not very extensive but she seemed to understand the meaning of Sarah’s words and she held the baby closer to her bosom, cooing again to quiet his fussing.
Jason stood looking down at Sarah for a moment, not knowing what to say to reassure her in her obvious mental state. Finally, he spoke his mind. “Well, I reckon you’re right. He’ll be coming after us as soon as he gets on our trail. And I aim to put an end to this thing once and for all. First thing, though, I’m gonna get you and Magpie to a safe place, then I’m going after him. I’m not waiting for him to come to me.”
“He’ll kill you,” she stated without emotion.
“We’ll see,” he responded. “He might, but I don’t plan on it.” He noticed the concern in Magpie’s face and smiled to reassure her.
CHAPTER 18
It would have to do. Jason was not totally satisfied with the scarcity of trees in the canyon he had picked, but the two women should be safe there. They were only two days from Camp Supply and the army but he was concerned that the renegade might be able to overtake them in a race for the fort. Better to hide out in a well-hidden canyon like the one they were now setting up camp in. He could have made a run for Supply but there were other reasons to lay low for a while. He didn’t want to take Sarah back to her father in the state she was now in. At least he wanted to give her physical scars a couple of days to heal. Maybe her mental state might improve also, given a little time.
They were running short of food but he explained to Magpie that he could not take the time to hunt. He figured that if Stone Hand had picked up their trail he would probably be no more than a day behind them. Jason wanted to make sure he intercepted him long before he even had a chance to stumble onto their camp in the canyon. Magpie nodded solemnly. She still had some corn, she explained, and they had plenty of coffee. Food for the baby would soon be a problem, however, for she said that Sarah had very little milk.
It was time to leave but Jason still had some concerns that the women would not be able to defend themselves in the event things didn’t turn out the way he planned. There were no trees, save a few scrubby oaks in the tiny canyon he had picked for their camp. But near the point of the canyon there was a broad stand of shrubs that covered the base of the ravine and a portion of the sides. This was the spot where he settled his charges, where he could hide the horses in the bushes. Still not completely satisfied with the camp but resigned to the fact that there was nothing more he could do, he figured it would have to do.
“Well, ladies,” he began, “I reckon you can take care of yourselves for a spell.” He took his pistol from his belt and handed it to Magpie. “You can keep this just in case. It’s loaded and ready to fire.” She took it silently, her eyes never leaving his. “If for some reason you have to make a run for it, ride straight through the brush and come out at the foot of the canyon. There’s a game trail on the far side of the brush. Follow it till you break clear of the hills then hightail it straight south toward Camp Supply.”
Both women watched him with intense attention though neither spoke. He could sense that they felt they were hearing a farewell speech and in all probability they would never see him again.
“Well, I’m wasting time.” With that he turned and walked to his horse.
“Jason!”
He looked back. Magpie ran to him. He turned to face her. “What is it, little Magpie?” His tone was soft, as if comforting a child. Something in the girl’s eyes touched his heart and he realized at that moment the depth of his feelings for this innocent Osage maiden.
She put her arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. “Be careful,” she whispered. “I fear I will not see you again.”
“You will. Don’t worry.” He was deeply touched by the young girl’s concern for his safety. But there was something more. As he took her by her shoulders and held her at arm’s length, he looked into her dark eyes and suddenly he was enveloped by a warm blanket of his own emotions. It was as if he had just seen the girl for the first time. The feeling left him with a strange sensation that he had not experienced before. He was held there for a few moments before he forced himself to get back to the
business at hand. “I best get going.”
He had made a decision to leave the Appaloosas with the women and ride Birdie. He thought it best to ride a horse he was familiar with as well as one that knew him well. He stepped up in the stirrup and threw his leg over. When she felt his weight, Birdie began to prance sideways for a few steps. It seemed that she sensed the importance of their mission and she was eager to begin. With a slight wave of his hand he turned and rode off toward the mouth of the canyon. Birdie picked up a smart pace without any urging. Suddenly she dropped to her knees and tumbled, throwing Jason from the saddle. At about the same instant, he heard the shot.
Jason lay stunned for a moment, the wind knocked out of his lungs. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened and he struggled to get to his knees, fighting to get his breath. What seemed to him like minutes were actually mere seconds that he remained on his knees waiting for the heavy pain in his chest to subside. At last he caught a breath and his brain started to work again. Then he realized what had happened. His horse had been shot out from under him! He looked quickly right and left, trying to see where the shot had come from. There was no one. He looked behind him where Birdie lay, already dead, the bullet having gone through her lungs. Able to function now, he started for his rifle in the saddle sling. Two bullets kicked up dust in front of his feet, stopping him in his tracks. The report of the rifle sounded a split second after the dust kicked up. He knew they were not just shots that missed. He would be dead if Stone Hand wanted him dead. He took one more step toward his rifle only to be warned by another bullet in the dust, this time barely missing his boot. Jason stood still then and waited.
In a moment he emerged from behind a high rock formation at the mouth of the canyon. His rifle leveled at Jason, he walked toward him, taking his time as he did, confident in his mastery of the situation.
The son of a bitch, Jason thought, watching the evil grin form on the renegade’s face as he approached. As it was with Long Foot, he intends to kill me, but not mercifully with a bullet. Well, that just might be his last big mistake. Come on, you evil bastard!
He was within about thirty feet of Jason now and the grin turned into a sneer when he spoke. “Jason Coles.” He spat the words at him, laden with contempt. Then he held his rifle up for Jason to see. Tied to the barrel was a fresh scalp. Jason knew it belonged to Long Foot. “Do you like it, Coles? I am going to tie two more with it, yours and the white bitch hiding up there in the brush.”
“You’re mighty damn confident of yourself, aren’t you? My scalp don’t come off that easy. You better shoot me while you got a chance. That’s the only way you’re gonna get this scalp.” Jason hoped to goad him into putting his rifle aside.
It was needless goading, for Stone Hand had no intention of denying himself the pleasure of killing Jason. He smiled. “You talk as big as that Osage dog I just cut up. I have waited a long time for you, Coles.” He slowly waved the rifle, causing the scalp to swing back and forth, taunting his victim. Then he grasped the lever and rapidly cocked the rifle until all the shells had ejected into the dust. That done, he tossed the rifle aside and drew his knife.
Jason drew his own knife and prepared to defend himself. Bending his knees slightly, he crouched and waited, watching the Indian as he slowly began to circle him. Stone Hand continued to circle, feinting every few seconds but not attacking. Jason sensed that he wanted him to charge so he remained patient, watching and waiting. There seemed to be no sound in the canyon as the two men faced each other, slowly moving in a circle, like two serpents measuring each other. Stone Hand’s lust for blood finally overpowered his patience and with a sudden cry of rage he lunged toward Jason like a rabid wolf. As best he could, Jason braced for the collision but the renegade was too strong. He fell on his back, Stone Hand on top of him. They struggled desperately, rolling over and over in the dust, each man straining to free his knife hand while fighting to hold the other man’s. Suddenly, Stone Hand broke free and scrambled to his feet. Just as swiftly, Jason was up and on his feet.
Now they circled again, each man having sampled the other’s strength. Jason knew now he was in a desperate battle for his life, for his adversary possessed the strength of a mountain lion. After a moment of cautious feinting, Stone Hand charged once again. This time Jason was ready. The two men crashed together, their chests pressing close, their arms above their heads, each man straining to stab with his knife while locking his opponent’s wrist with his other hand. Now they were straining against each other like two rams, each trying to overpower the other. But neither man could bend the other back. Finding that his opponent was too strong to overpower, Stone Hand hooked his leg around Jason’s knee and Jason, caught off balance, was thrown to the ground. Like a great cat, Stone Hand was on him immediately, his knife blade flashing briefly in the sunlight as he struck. Jason instinctively rolled to avoid the attack but he felt the burn of the blade as it sliced the back of his upper arm. The sight of the blood seemed to incite the savage even more, sensing the prospect of a kill. Jason was too quick for a second thrust, rolling over several times before scrambling to his feet. Stone Hand was immediately after him, crashing into him, searching for an opening to bury his knife. Both men grunted with the exertion necessary to hold off the other’s assault. The blood from Jason’s wound covered his forearm and hand, making his grip on Stone Hand’s knife hand slippery. Stone Hand jerked his hand free and struck at Jason’s ribs. Jason managed to slip to the side just enough to escape a mortal wound but the knife found the flesh on the outside of his rib cage. This fresh blood brought a look of triumph to the renegade’s face and his lip curled up into a sneer. His overconfidence caused him to loosen his grip slightly and his sneer was frozen by a look of surprise when Jason’s knife slashed across his chest, laying open a long gash. Stone Hand backed away and stared down at his chest, amazed. Then the anger raged in him and he charged Jason again.
Back at the foot of the canyon, hidden in the brush, Sarah and Magpie sat, momentarily transfixed by the desperate battle they witnessed. Although it seemed like an eternity it had in actuality been but a few minutes. In that time, Magpie made her decision. She could not sit watching while Jason was fighting for his life. She turned to Sarah, who was huddled, terrified against a scrubby bush. “Here, take the baby.” Sarah was almost paralyzed with fear and Magpie had to repeat it several times before the frightened woman reluctantly reached out for her child.
So desperate was the battle that neither man noticed the woman walking toward them, the pistol in her hand. When she was within a distance of twenty or thirty feet, she stopped and raised the pistol. Locked in struggle, the two men lunged and turned, first one way and then another, causing her to hesitate as she tried to get a clear shot. Finally, in desperation, she pulled the trigger, the bullet passing harmlessly beside the renegade’s shoulder.
Shocked by the explosion of the pistol so close behind them, both men stepped back. Stone Hand’s reflexes were too swift for Magpie as he sprang upon her and wrenched the weapon from her hand before she could get off another shot. Furious at the attempted attack by the Osage girl, he shoved her away from him. Now he had the pistol and having lost his enthusiasm for killing Jason with his knife, he decided to end it with a bullet. Jason, however, was as quick to react as the Cheyenne, and when Stone Hand turned to shoot, Jason was already behind him. When Stone Hand’s gun hand swung around, Jason was there to grab his wrist. At the same time, Jason sank his knife up to the hilt in the Indian’s belly.
Stone Hand’s eyes flashed wide with shock and he stared down at the knife, only the handle visible, in disbelief. Still he struggled against Jason’s grip on his wrist. As Stone Hand groped for the knife in his belly with his free hand, Jason jerked it out and sank it a second time. Stone Hand screamed in pain. Then his eyes began to glaze and Jason, looking straight into them, knew he was fading rapidly. His lips almost touching Stone Hand’s ear, he spoke, almost in a whisper. “Die, you son of a bitch.”
Jaso
n stood over the still body of the infamous Cheyenne renegade. Now that it was over, he felt weak and completely wrung out. It was then that he became aware of his wounds.
“Come. I must clean your wounds.” Magpie was now at his side, concerned about the amount of blood he had lost.
“It ain’t as bad as it looks,” he assured her. “It can wait for a bit.” He turned his attention back to the dead renegade.
He and Magpie both stared at the remains of a Cheyenne legend, turned now into a lifeless lump in the canyon’s dust. Neither of them noticed the woman walking purposely toward them until she was almost beside them. Jason turned to speak but she brushed past him and stood before the body. There was a wild look in her eyes that worried Jason. She seemed dazed.
“It’s all over now, Sarah. He can’t hurt you no more.”
She seemed not to hear him and continued to stare at Stone Hand. With a cry of anguish, she suddenly picked up Stone Hand’s bloody knife and began stabbing the body, again and again, as fast as she could—over and over—the savage’s blood spattering on her arms and face until she could not lift her arm anymore. Jason, at first too shocked to stop her, decided it best to let her get it all out. When she lay back in the dust, sobbing, he helped her to her feet.
“You don’t need to fear this Injun no more. Spirit or not, he ain’t coming back.”
From the thicket at the end of the canyon came the thin cry of the baby. He looked down at the once feared Cheyenne butcher and then at the knife still in his hand. He knelt down beside the mutilated body and started to take the scalp. With the point of his knife resting at the front of the savage’s scalp lock, he hesitated, seemingly spellbound by the evil presence that lingered near the body. After a moment, he turned and instructed Magpie, in her own tongue. “Take Sarah back to the camp and get her and the baby ready to leave this place.” Magpie nodded and took Sarah by the arm, leading her away. Jason returned to his work.
Stone Hand Page 20