Death Rides the Black Hills: A Frontier G-Man Novel

by Franklin D. Lincoln

DEATH RIDES THE BLACK HILLS

  A Frontier G-Man Novel

  by

  Franklin D. Lincoln

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Death Rides the Black Hills- Frontier G-Man No. 2

  Copyright © 2012 by Franklin D. Lincoln

  ISBN 9781476098920

  ****

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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  Chapter One

  Ghost Riders

  From out of the night they came, as ghosts with the full moon glowing on their skeletal faces and shiny buttons on their blue army uniforms that blended with the purple darkness of the night. Atop black steeds, they thundered out of the trees and splashed across the waters of Split Toe Creek. With the eerie shrill screams of long dead spirits, the night exploded into another world, dividing the real from the unreal as the riders came out of the water. Their skull like faces glowed in the dark, as did the rib cages, back bones and skulls of their ghostly mounts.

  It was Little Elk who saw them first. He had heard of the Ghost Soldiers, but in all of his twelve summers, he had never seen them before. Chills swept over his small body as he realized that he was seeing the apparitions that he had long heard about but somehow always hoped they were just a legend.

  He crouched low to the ground and peered out through the thicket. Shaking with fear, he dared not move for fear of being seen. He should have stayed in the teepee until morning, but the fire had dwindled low and the cool night air had aroused him from his sleep. It was usually his job to go out and gather more twigs for the fire and this night would be no exception His sister White Fawn, still slept soundly on the other side of the fire. She was several years older than Little Elk and had acted as a mother to him since the death of their mother and father. She was married to Brave Bear, a huge brutish man who had paid White Fawn’s father twelve ponies for her. As was her duty she served and obeyed Brave Bear. It had been peaceful these last few days with Brave Bear gone with the rest of the warriors and braves.

  He was headed back with his arms full of branches, when he heard the sound of horses hooves. His eyes widened in fear and he dropped the load as he ran into the cover of the thicket.

  Now, he watched as the Ghost Soldiers came nearer. He knew these were the famed ghosts of the soldiers that the Ogalala Sioux had defeated years before, and had became known as the hundred slain. Their spirits now inhabit these hills looking for revenge against the Lakota Spirits that guard the Black Hills from the Wasichus.

  The Wasichus were flowing into the Black Hills in great numbers. At first they flowed like a creek and then as great rivers, invading sacred lands and spoiling hallowed ground. It was for the yellow metal that makes men crazy. Gold!

  Gathering himself together and realizing that the Ghost Soldiers were attacking, Little Elk knew he must warn his village for they would be helpless. Three days ago, the braves and warriors rode off to battle, leaving only the old men, women and children behind. Pushing himself to his feet he turned and crashed through the thicket back toward the village. He ran, staggering through the wooded debris. Even above the loud panting of his breath and the drumming of his heart beating his ears, he could hear the riders closing in behind him.

  Closer and closer, they thundered after him, their ghostly mounts crashing through the thicket. Little Elk knew they had seen him. He raced onward screaming as he went. If the camp hadn’t heard the riders by now, his screams should surely arouse someone.

  Then as if a door had opened for him, he emerged out of the thicket. The camp lie just ahead. Voices and screams answered his own as women and children emerged from their teepees as the elder men were too old and sick to arise. Little Elk’s feet flew across the encampment. He was still screaming with terror.

  The Ghost Soldiers burst out of the thicket with renewed speed, galloping into the camp, trampling teepees and all that still remained inside them. The Soldiers slashed with their mighty sabers at the fabric of the falling teepees and anyone in their way.

  Screaming women snatched up their children and tried to run. Older children ran screaming for their lives. The mighty horde of Ghost Soldiers poured full stream attack into the village, their horses hooves trampling all in the way and churning the earth with their sharp gleaming horseshoes.

  “White Fawn!” Little Elk cried as he saw his sister running to meet him. He ran faster, toward her and she swooped him into her arms, starting to run.

  “No White Fawn!” Little Elk protested. “Put me down! We can run faster than you can carry me.!”

  She dropped him to his feet without slowing her pace and they continued to run away. Almost out of the light of the village now, but a huge Ghost Soldier was just behind. His gleaming saber slashed though the night air and his mournful banshee like scream seemed to turn the cool night air even colder.

  White Fawn stopped and whirled to face the attacking demon. Flames from the burning camp flared high into the dark sky. The mounted apparition reared his horse onto its hind legs, silhouetting himself against the light of the fires, appearing as a devil from hell.

  Then as if by some weird magic of fate, the horse reared over backward, spilling the Ghost Soldier to the ground. White Fawn and Little Elk resumed their flight. But, they knew the other Ghosts could catch them. They dove behind a large boulder and fell flat against the damp earth, White Fawn holding Little Elk’s trembling body close to her.

  “Little Elk!” she whispered. “Listen carefully. It is I they want. I’ve got to stop this terror on our people. It is all my fault. I’m going to run out and let them chase me.”

  “No White Fawn. Don’t Leave me,” he pleaded. He couldn’t understand how any of this could be White Fawn’s fault. She was good and all the family he had.

  She pushed him back and looked him straight in the face. “Listen! I know what I’m doing. Here,” she said removing a chain from her neck. A stone gleaming in the moonlight dangled from it. “Take this.” She looped the chain over Little Elk’s head and tucked the stone beneath his shirt.

  “Don’t let anyone know you have this. Understand?”

  Little Elk was shaking violently, his eyes filled with tears. White Fawn repeated, “Do you understand me, Little Elk?”

  Little Elk nodded slightly.

  “Now ,when I run out, you move back into the bushes. Stay quiet until the soldiers are gone. You will be safe. I promise.”

  “But sister…”

  “Hush, do as I say. When the soldiers are gone, go to the soldier’s town. Find Brave Bear and give the stone to him. Understand? Don’t let anyone else know about the stone. Only Brave Bear.”

  Little Elk nodded. He had thought that Brave Bear had left with the other braves and warriors. He had not seen him for days. Little Elk had been glad that he was gone, for he did not like Brave Bear. He was a big man and often times cruel to him and his sister. There was little white Fawn could do to protect him from B
rave Bear for she must obey her husband. She must obey. And now Little Elk must obey White Fawn and seek out the man he disliked and usually feared. Little Elk did not understand, but he knew he must do as he was told.

  Little Elk tried to compose himself. He straightened, fighting to keep tears from his eyes. “Yes sister. I understand. I will take the stone to Brave Bear. I will tell no one else about the stone.”

  “Now,” White Fawn said pushing him away from her. “I must go now. Do as I say.” He faded back into the bushes.

  Without further word, she pushed herself up and ran back into the clearing. Shouts from the riders indicated they had found their prey and horses thundered after her. She ran with all her might, neither looking backward or left to right. She just kept running blindly ahead, the apparitions quickly closing on her until she was surrounded by horses and riders. She stumbled as a large burly ghost swept her off the ground and kept going, his mount’s gleaming shoes pounding the turf and disappeared into the darkness. The other soldiers followed, whooping shrilly and dissolving into the shadows from whence they had come.

  Little Elk, trembling, peered out of the bushes and watched his sister disappear with the ghosts. He watched as they melted away into dark nothingness. Their eerie wails dying in the distance. Strangely, he did not cry as he had so easily before. A strange sensation waved over him. One of strength and anger. His jaw set, eyes glaring, fear being replaced by complacence and determination.

  Strangely, as he had hidden in the bushes, he felt his fear subside and a heaviness held him tightly to the ground as if covered by a giant rock, an impenetrable fortress of security.

  As the ghosts dissolved, the heaviness seemed to lift from him and he started to emerge from the bushes. The tremendous noise of pounding hooves, shrill yells and the screams of women and children subsided to relative silence. There in the glow of the burning village, all that remained were bodies, strewn about the compound. Of the few survivors, women wailed in grief for the loss of their friends and children. The wounded moaned in agonizing pain. Surviving children cried and many hugged the dead bodies of their mothers.

  Little Elk stood there in silence, surveying the damage and feeling bitterness over the scene before him. There was nothing he could do. It was over. His home had been destroyed and he had lost White Fawn. All he could do was to obey White Fawn and find Brave Bear. He shuddered at the thought of approaching Brave Bear without the protection of his sister. And what would Brave Bear do anyways? How would he find her?. Could she still be saved? Would he even care? He had never been in sympathy with the war chiefs, especially Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse. He had always favored Red Cloud’s passive approach to the invasion of the Wasichus, white men, and had always hung around the soldier’s town, taking what ever he could that the whites would hand his way. He and others like him were disliked by the Braves and Warriors and referred to them as ‘Hangs Around the Fort’ dogs.

  Little Elk stared off to the south, where the ghosts had vanished, heading back into the sacred Black Hills. He pondered his dilemma. If he went to find Brave Bear he would not know where his sister had been taken. He would not be able to tell brave Bear how to find her. But, White Fawn had told him to go and find Brave Bear. No. Little Elk thought. He should follow the trail of the Ghost Soldiers, find where they had taken his sister, then find Brave Bear and bring him to White fawn’s rescue. But what if the Ghost Soldiers found him? What if he got lost? Worse yet. He knew it was forbidden to set foot into the sacred Black Hills. What if the spirits swallowed him up? He would have to risk it. Without his sister, what would he do anyways? If his fate was to be left to the spirits, then that is what it should be.

  The darkness of the night was beginning to melt into the oncoming grayness of dawn as Little Elk, with fear and anger in his heart, set out on his long perilous journey following the Ghost Trail into the Black Hills.

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