Winter Rage (Mountain Times Book 1)

by John Legg

  “Pshaw.”

  “Then ye’ll be spendin’ the night on guard?” Squire asked, growing serious.

  “Yep.”

  “Cletus get a chance to visit the village last night?”

  “Nope. Stayed the whole time here. Watchin’ over them goddamn horses. Tryin’ to impress me, he was.”

  “He be a good one, Homer. I be glad we found him.”

  Bellows glanced around furtively. “Yep. That he is. Best kind, he is. But you didn’t hear it from me. I’d never say nuttin’ like that.”

  Squire laughed. “ ’Course ye wouldn’t. But I’ll ne’er tell no one. Well, if he ain’t already got his eyes shut, tell him to be doin’ it so’s he be havin’ some strength left for visitin’ the Sioux later. I’ll get Abner, Hank, Li’l Jim and Benji to be on guard for at least part of the night. I’ll be stayin’ on the whole night.”

  “Me, too. Yep.”

  The two men drifted their own ways. Bellows headed off to issue his orders before heading to the Indian camp. Squire saw Whitaker and stopped next to the young man. “Ye get to go into the village yet, boy?” he asked.

  “Nope. I wanted to so’s I could preach to these devilish people. Show them the true path. But I’m still feelin’ some weak. Too weak to even do the Lord’s work.” He was full of despair.

  “Ye just weak, or are ye painin’ agin?”

  “Little of both. Pain comes and goes, mostly my head and shoulder. ”

  “The Sioux’s got their own ways with such things, lad. They might be able to help ye. Go’n find Homer. He’ll be headin’ that way afore long. He can lead ye to the medicine man.”

  “I think not, Nathaniel,” Whitaker said stiffly. “I ain’t lettin’ no heathen savage use his pagan gods to try curin’ me. I have given my life into the Good Lord’s hands. He will see to my recovery, and has not saved me just so I can put my life in the hands of those savages. When I am fully recovered—in God’s own good time—I shall be free to visit the villages of the many Indians and show them the true path. ‘To give light to them that sit in darkness and in the shadow of death.’ ”

  “Don’t be a fool, boy.”

  “I am not bein’ a fool, Mr. Squire, when I refuse to believe in their false gods. It is my purpose to bring to them the words of the one true God. To introduce them into the ways of the Lord.”

  “Suit yourself, lad,” Squire said, more than a little annoyed. “You’ll be the only one who regrets it if’n ye turn worse.”

  “I can face my Maker in peace, Mr. Squire. However, I will be fine. As I have told you, the Lord has saved me for this purpose. He will not let me down. ‘He hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, He hath covered me with the robe of righteousness.’ ”

  “I be glad for ye,” Squire said, not hiding his sarcasm. He drifted off and found Train, Li’l Jim, Carpenter and Benji sitting in a small circle. Train and Carpenter looked tired but happy, and Squire was pleased to see that they were not sitting right atop one another, though he knew it must have been hard for them. Li’l Jim and Benji still looked hung over.

  “Ye lads sure be some sight,” Squire grinned. “Ye had yourselves a good time last night, then?” he asked, winking at Carpenter so that no others could see.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Li’l Jim groaned. “I feel like I been run over by a buffler bull.”

  “I told ye lads to watch how much of that goddamn stuff ye poured into ye.”

  “I’ll pay more mind next time.”

  “Now that ye’ve had your fun, lads, it be time for workin’. Ye’d best be gettin’ some sleep now whilst ye still got a chance. Ye’ll all be horse sittin’ this night.”

  “Oh, no,” Li’l Jim moaned.

  “Ye think your head hurts now, boy, ye just try not bein’ where you’re supposed to be tonight.”

  “All right, all right. Now just go away.”

  Li’l Jim was his usual cocky self when dusk arrived and the horse guards mounted up for their night’s work. Benji also felt better, though he was a little worried. Train and Carpenter looked rested.

  Near midnight, Squire rode alongside Train. “I’ve sent Hannah into the village,” he said quietly. “She be back in the lodge ye used last night. Think ye can be findin’ it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Train said eagerly.

  “Ye just wait a little yet. When I come ridin’ by agin is time enough. I’ll be coverin’ for ye.”

  Train beamed in the starlight, but Squire cautioned him. “Ye best make certain ye ain’t followed, lad, either comin’ or goin’. And I want ye back well afore dawn. I know them Sioux be plannin’ somethin’, and I reckon they’ll be tryin’ it just afore it gets light. So I want ye back at least an hour before. Ye two leave the lodge at diff’rent times, and make certain Hannah leaves first this time.”

  “I will,” Train whispered. He paused and said hoarsely, “I don’t know how I can thank ya, Nathaniel.”

  “I don’t need your thanks, lad. Just do like I told ye.”

  “I will.”

  The cold, dark hours dragged, but Squire paid it no heed. He was ever on the alert. He heard nothing unusual, and he saw nothing but the horse guards riding in a slow circle around the large horse herd.

  Train showed up quietly a few minutes after Hannah did. Each slipped into the ring of horse guards so that no one but Squire knew they had been gone.

  A short time later, Hannah rode up alongside Squire. “I think I was followed on my way back, Nathaniel,” she said tensely.

  “You’re not certain?”

  “No, sir. It was dark, and my mind wasn’t all on what I was doin’.” Despite her worry, she giggled, the sound a soft tinkle in the clear, cold night.

  “Was ye able to see anyone?”

  “No. It was just a feeling I had. Like an itching between my shoulders. And I thought I saw something once, but ...”

  “Well, I reckon it be nothin’ to be worryin’ o’er. Just set it out of your mind.”

  “Thanks, Nathaniel,” she said, sounding relieved.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  SQUIRE heard a rustling he knew did not come from one of his men guarding the horses. It was so faint that most others would not have heard it. But Squire did. He pulled Noir Astre to a stop and dismounted. Holding his hand over the horse’s nose, he listened intently.

  He nodded to himself when he heard it again. Someone slithered along the ground so silently that the horses were not disturbed. “Merde,” Squire muttered, knowing he had heard the sound just a little too late. The Sioux had already infiltrated the herd.

  Squire saw a shadow that was darker than the other shadows, as a Sioux warrior leaped on one of Melton’s horses and whooped with pride and impending victory. In the blink of an eye, two more Sioux were on horses, yelling and flapping blankets to drive the herd off.

  Horses whinnied and snorted and mules brayed as Squire leaped on Noir Astre with a curse. The sea of horseflesh flowed toward the Sioux village as Squire kicked the big black stallion into a flat-out run, covering the ground with remarkable swiftness. Off to each side, he could hear his men yelling and the sounds of an awakening camp.

  He felt, more than heard, Train, Li’l Jim, Carpenter, Benji and three others slapping their mounts, trying to wheel the herd back. And he heard Bellows roaring oaths far off to his left.

  One Sioux was at the front of the herd, leading it toward the Indian village. Two others were near the rear, urging the horses on, ignoring the lagging mules. The first Sioux turned the herd northward to bypass the village. Noir Astre gained on the lead animals, his head bobbing rhythmically to the soft thudding of the iron-shod hooves.

  The lead Sioux glanced back over his shoulder as he quirted the horse he was riding to greater speed. The wolf’s head sitting on his own gave him an eerie look. As Squire and the thundering black horse loomed alongside, Squire plucked the youth off the horse with one massive arm. Still holding the reins and rifle in his right hand, Squire slammed
the young Indian down across the saddle in front of him, knocking the wind out of the Sioux.

  Squire roared and fired his rifle, edging Noir Astre closer to the horse leading the herd. His voice boomed against the thick night sky, overriding the other noises. Slowly he and his horse began turning the herd back toward the west, until the North Star glittered to his right.

  The young warrior got his breath back and began clawing and biting at Squire’s leg, until the mountain man smashed his rifle butt against the back of the youth’s head. As Squire fought to bring the horses in the direction of his camp, some of his men were racing out on foot to help.

  Toward the rear, Benji caught up with one of the Indians and threw himself at the Sioux, pulling the warrior from the horse’s bare back and onto the ground. They hit with a solid thump and were slow getting up. Benji made it first, and when the Indian tried to rise, Benji punched him in the face. The Sioux’s coyote headdress flapped on the ground.

  Benji felt fear settle into him, face-to-face as he was with a Sioux warrior and no one around to help him. It was the fear that forced him to kick the young warrior in the face after punching him. Fear, and remembering Squire’s words when they began the long watch the night before, warning them that the Sioux would try something, that it would be young warriors out to make a name for themselves and that to the Sioux this was a game and he did not want a war on his hands.

  As the Sioux sagged, Benji snarled at him, “Try’n steal our horses, will ya, ya son of a bitch?” He hit the Indian once more. Shakily he climbed back on his horse, as he heard a voice.

  “Shoot him, y’all.”

  He turned in the saddle to see Zeb Willis ride easily up. “Go to hell, Zeb,” Benji said, still unnerved by the events of the past few minutes.

  “Hell, y’all won’t, Ah will.” He raised his rifle.

  Benji swallowed his fear and kicked his horse, moving it between Willis and the unconscious Sioux. With snakes of fear writhing wildly in his belly, he pulled his own rifle from the scabbard. “Mr. Squire said no warrin’ with these people. Unless this boy is fixin’ to kill you—which ain’t likely since he’s knocked out—you ain’t gonna hurt him.”

  “Squiah’s got no balls, boy. Don’t y’all know that? Now get out of mah way.” He looked smug.

  Benji’s hands shook as he poured a little priming powder in the pan, spilling some, much to his annoyance. He cocked the piece. “Ride on,” Benji said, surprised that his voice was firm.

  Willis started to smile in derision. But he took note of the determined look on Benji’s face. He spat tobacco juice, taking some time to make a decision. Suddenly he uncocked his rifle and jammed it down into a scabbard. “Ah ain’t gonna forget this, ya little bastard,” he snarled. Roughly he jerked the horse’s head around with the reins and kicked it much too hard, racing off back toward camp.

  Benji took a deep breath to settle himself, and he swallowed hard. It was difficult since he was so scared he couldn’t raise a spit. Trying to keep calm, he uncocked the rifle, but kept it in hand. He turned his horse and saw the young Sioux awake. The youth was groggy but sitting up and staring at him.

  The two young men looked at each other silently for a few moments. Then the Sioux flicked his hand and nodded his thanks.

  Feeling good, Benji took off at a run, heading for the others.

  The third Sioux, seeing his friends fall, swung his horse around toward the village, his short buffalo robe flapping wildly. He was not fast enough.

  Train slapped a little extra speed from his horse. When he drew alongside, the Indian swiped at him with a leather quirt, striking him over one eye. Train flinched but did not slow down. Forcing the last ounce of speed from his horse, he drew inches ahead of the Sioux. He yanked his rifle from the scabbard. Suddenly he lashed out with it. The barrel flattened the Indian’s nose. With a grunt of pain, the warrior plopped onto the ground.

  Train turned the horse and slowed. The animal was winded, and it would do no good to try to catch the others. But in the eerie gray of false dawn, he could see that his companions had mostly brought the horse herd under control and were wheeling it in a wide circle that would bring it back into their camp from the west.

  He rode slowly on until he came upon the horse the Sioux had been riding. It was cropping grass peacefully. Train grabbed a handful of the horse’s mane and tugged the animal with him toward the camp. When he arrived, men were circulating among the horses, talking softly, rubbing them down, soothing out the last of the fear from them. Other men brought in the final few mules that had scattered.

  Finally all was quiet in the camp, and the men gathered around Squire, who sat with the unconscious Sioux youth laid at his feet. It was light now, but a chill lingered in the air.

  “What’re ya gonna do with him?” Train asked.

  “Let him go soon’s he be wakin’ up.”

  “Kill him,” Willis shouted, stalking forward. Anger distorted his features. “Goddammit, Ah say we kill that red-skinned sumbitch. Damned Sioux ain’t good for nothin’ but stealin’ horses. Y’all ought to know that, Squiah.”

  Squire just stared at him, and it was Benji who answered, much to everyone’s surprise. “Didn’t you learn your lesson last night?” He was scared again, but he had conquered fear before, he could do it again. “Goddamn fool.”

  The look Willis threw at him might have caused most men to quake, but Benji no longer feared Willis or anyone else for that matter. He just sneered.

  “But they tried to steal our horses,” another man snarled.

  “That’s just their way, boy,” Bellows said. “Yep. Ain’t nuttin’ more important to a Sioux than a horse. ’Cept a buffler, of course. They’ll try’n steal horses ever’ chance they get. Only but two ways a Sioux warrior can gain honors: count coup and steal horses. They was just lookin’ for some honors. A couple young bucks like that run off a herd this big, they’d have a heap of honors. More’n enough for ’em to get wives. They didn’t mean us no harm, though. Nope. Just testin’ us, seein’ if we was payin’ attention to our possibles.

  “The rest of them Sioux ain’t gonna bother us none. ’Less’n we kill this here boy. Then we’d be up to our asses in Sioux warriors.”

  “Shut up, old man,” Willis snapped. “Goddamn old fool. Y’all ain’t got no sense. Y’all act like you’re better’n the rest of us.” Willis never saw the punch that sent him flying. But he came up fast, knife in hand, to face Train, who stood waiting for him.

  “Y’all the one that hit me, boy?” Willis demanded, eyes brittle with hate.

  “Supposin’ I was.”

  “Ah’ll kill y’all.”

  “You’ll have to go a heap to do it. ” Train’s voice was calm, but his mouth and throat were parched, and there was an icy knot in his stomach. He pulled his knife and crouched.

  Carpenter gasped, and made a move toward Train. Squire grabbed an arm and tugged. “No,” he whispered. Everyone’s attention was on the impending fight. “It might be givin’ your secret away. He can take care of himself.”

  The two crouching men faced each other, jabbing and feinting with their knives, but not making contact.

  Suddenly Train whipped his left hand—the one without the knife—forward. The move surprised Willis. Train grabbed Willis’s knife hand with his empty one. He curled his other hand up so the knife was facing back toward his body and the tip of the hilt just edged past the meat of his hand. And he used it to pound Willis in the face.

  On the fourth punch, Willis dropped his knife. On the fifth, he staggered. He slumped to his knees on the seventh, and then keeled over. Train leaned over him, knife back at the ready, poised to plunge into Willis’s heart.

  “That be enough, lad,” Squire said softly into the aching silence. Slowly, Train stepped back. “Don’t you ever speak to Homer that way again, you son of a bitch,” he rasped, breathing heavily.

  “Some of ye pork eaters set meat to cookin’,” Squire ordered, breaking the tension. He stood a
nd surveyed the men, his face hard. “And one or two of ye set out to see if’n them two other Sioux still be out there and be all right. Bring ’em back if’n ye kin, but don’t force it. The rest of ye commence to packin’ your possibles and start loadin’ them mules.”

  The men drifted off to their chores. Before long, Li’l Jim rode in. “Ain’t seen hide nor hair of either of them Sioux, Nathaniel,” he said.

  Benji breathed a small sigh of relief, pleased to know that the young warrior he had encountered had made it back to his village safely.

  Soon they sat to the morning meal. The Sioux captive awoke when a skin bucket of water was sloshed on him. He refused to eat.

  After the meal, Squire stood and yelled to have the men gather around. When they did, he said, “Ye lads best get the rest of the possibles packed. I’m headin’ to the village for a spell, and I aim to be gettin’ on the move soon’s I get back.”

  As the men drifted off, Melton asked, “Why are you going back there? I would think you’d want to be on the trail.”

  “Aye, that I do. But I want to be bringin’ this lad back. And we’ll be takin’ on a few more hands.”

  “Oh?” Melton was perplexed. He had seen no other white men in the village, and he doubted Squire would need the services of any of the Sioux warriors.

  “I aim to be takin’ Star Path, and some of the others, of course.”

  “And just who is this Star Path fellow?”

  “She, Colonel.”

  “She? We can’t…” He stopped as recognition hit him. “Oh, I see. She is your woman, then? The one you have not seen in some years?”

  “Aye.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to say no to you, Nathaniel. You’ve had your way in all else, and rightly so. But this I cannot permit. No. It’s out of the question.”

  “There don’t be no question, Colonel. I ain’t askin’ your permission. I’m just tellin’ ye the way it be.”