He and Cody reported back. “Sir, I think they’ve split their forces to confuse us.”
General Carr shifted his weight in the saddle. “Then all we can do is split our forces and follow both trails so we don’t take a chance on losing them.”
Major North pulled at his mustache thoughtfully. “Sir, with all due respect, the majority of my men are too ill and weary to go another step and our horses are down to half rations. We can’t pick up the pace any in this heat.”
“Then we’ll take the men and horses who can keep up and leave the rest behind.” The portly officer turned to Johnny and looked at him keenly. “What do you think, scout?”
“That’s not my decision to make, sir. What you suggest could be dangerous if we run into a hornet’s nest of Dog Soldiers.”
“But that’s what you’d do, isn’t it?”
Johnny had to nod in agreement. “I suppose it’s worth the risk.” He thought of Luci, who might be riding with them. There was no help for that. “There’s not much cover in the direction we seem to be heading and they’ll have scouts out, too, just like us. There’s not much chance of surprising them.”
Major North reached for his canteen and took a drink. “Johnny, from your experience, do you still think you know where they’re headed?”
“Could be several places.” Johnny rolled a cigarette thoughtfully, and brushed a fly away. “One of those trails is bound to be a fake to lead us astray. They’ll all meet up ahead someplace.”
“You said before you thought that would be Summit Springs. Do you still think that?” General Carr wiped his sweating face again.
Johnny lit his smoke and shook out the match. The success of this campaign might depend on his judgment. Suppose he led them on a wild-goose chase and the Cheyenne weren’t there?
“Well?” Major North prompted.
“I still feel it’s Summit Springs,” Johnny said. “I’d wager my life they’re headed up to the northeastern part of the Colorado Territory. There’s water and plenty of grass for the horses.”
“Do we have a chance of surprising them?” North said.
Johnny shrugged, blowing smoke toward the sky. “The forts lie to the southeast, so that’s where they’ll be watching. We could make a wide circle, come around behind them, and maybe catch them by surprise.”
“That’s what we’ll do then,” the general said. “Major, you take some men and follow that one trail away from here; I’ll follow the other. I hope your scout isn’t wrong.”
Major North grinned. “I doubt he’ll be wrong. I have complete confidence in Johnny Ace.”
“Johnny Ace? Funny name for an Indian.”
“The soldiers can’t remember my Pawnee name, Asataka, so they call me that.”
“Asataka,” the general mused. “What does it mean?”
“White Horse,” Johnny said.
Chapter Twenty-three
Sunday, July 11, 1869. The cavalry had covered 150 miles in the past four days. It had been a long, hard ride in the heat. Now thunderheads built off to the west, angry, black clouds piling up behind the horizon. Thunder rumbled and echoed far away and a cool breeze blew against sweating faces. When they circled around behind the low-lying hills, they concealed themselves in a gully.
Johnny crept up the slope. On the hill between him and the camp, the Cheyenne horse herd grazed. There were nearly a hundred lodges, Johnny noted. It was a big camp, bigger than Johnny had expected.
General Carr sent a rider to find the other force and bring it posthaste. He had said he wanted to attack at dawn, but the sun moved relentlessly across the July sky and he grew more and more nervous, as did Johnny.
“General, the longer we hide here in this gully, the better chance we have of being discovered and losing the element of surprise.”
“You’re right. What a helluva way to spend a Sunday afternoon! Take another look and report back. If the others don’t get here soon, we’ll attack without them!”
Johnny, like the other Pawnee, had stripped down to his breechcloth and moccasins. Because a bare-backed horse carried less weight and could run faster, the scouts all took their saddles off. It was revenge time for them against an old enemy. But he felt no thrill in it. Luci might be in that camp and he wasn’t sure how to save her.
He crawled up the slope and looked around. The giant herd of horses grazed on the hill, watched over by a guard on horseback who seemed to be marking in a ledger book. He paused occasionally to gaze off toward the southeast, the direction from which an attack could surely be expected. If the camp was under attack, the guard would try to drive the herd into the camp so the warriors could get mounted. A brave on foot was not much threat. That sentry would have to be killed to keep him from giving early warning.
Johnny reached for his knife. With a good throw, he could hit the sentry in the back, straight through the heart. Forever silenced. But the guard turned and Johnny saw he was only a boy and a crippled one at that. Very slowly, he took his hand off his knife, cursing himself for his softness.
In the camp beyond, children laughed and ran about, women stood in groups to gossip, and war-painted warriors strolled or sat in groups, talking. A dog barked somewhere and again the thunder rolled and echoed faintly to the west. The scent of campfires and cooking meat drifted to his nostrils.
Where was Luci? He pulled out the scrap of cloth. Was she in this camp? He strained to see the small figures in the distance. Johnny watched, torn between half hoping, half dreading he would see her. Then almost as if in answer to his thoughts, she came out of a tipi, walked over to a kettle hanging over a fire, and dished up some food.
He had to restrain himself from jumping up and shouting at her. Yes, it was her small, slight form all right. She took two bowls of food and disappeared into the tipi.
Where were the two white women captives who were supposed to be held prisoner by this band? He looked around, but saw no sign of them. Could they be the ones Luci carried food to? When the soldiers attacked the camp, he’d check that lodge first. His beloved was in danger. But what could be done about that? If the Fifth launched an attack, Luci and the women prisoners might be either executed by the vengeful Indians or caught in the deadly crossfire.
With a sigh of foreboding, Johnny returned to the officers and reported. General Carr shifted his big frame restlessly.
“We’re going to have to go on with it! It’s only a matter of luck we haven’t been seen already. If we can hit that camp, catch those warriors by surprise, we’ve got a real advantage if they’re afoot.”
The decision made, orders passed softly through the waiting cavalry. As always, the Pawnee scouts would lead the charge because they preferred to be the first to ride in, kill, and count coup on their old enemies.
How could he save Luci and the other captives? Johnny thought as he smeared war paint on his muscular, almost naked frame. He had the best horse in the bunch. If he rode out in front, ahead of even the Pawnee scouts, he stood a good chance of being killed, but he also had a better chance of arriving as the shooting started, saving his love.
Was it foolish to risk his life to save a girl who, given the choice, would surely go on to Denver with her rich father when she was rescued? More and more, he decided Pani Le-shar was right. His enlistment was up. The smart thing to do was take Luci away without ever giving her a chance to hear about Manning Starrett. He’d have to save her first.
Behind him, he heard the jingle of bridles as the Fifth readied itself for the charge. They’d come up out of the draw, cut off that pony herd from galloping into the village and then attack the camp itself. Without ponies, those Dog Soldiers were almost helpless.
He felt sweat run down his broad chest in the scorching July heat, smearing his scarlet and ochre war paint. Off to the west, the angry clouds piled layer on layer, the thunder rumbling ominously, echoing across the plains. The wind picked up suddenly ahead of the coming storm, blowing cool against his painted face.
Was that a raind
rop on his cheek or a tear? Warriors do not weep, he reminded himself sternly, but he didn’t know if he was crying for himself, out of fear for Luci, or for the lives that were about to be lost. He was getting too soft to be a soldier.
The sky darkened now as the boiling lavender and gray clouds pushed his way, driven by the wind. Would the rain hit before the battle ended? He had never fought in a rainstorm before. It could only make it harder, galloping through mud, his vision blurred by driving rain. Lightning flashed in the west, making a jagged tear in the dark sky from ground to heaven.
His heart beat hard as he led the scouts up the slope. The crippled boy still sat his pony, marking in the book, looking occasionally off toward the southeast, oblivious to the threat coming up behind him from the north.
Now Major North’s troops rejoined them. The bugle charge cut through the rumbling thunder. A cry went up from hundreds of throats as the Fifth Cavalry charged up the slope, determined to keep the pony herd from being driven into the camp.
The herdboy looked up suddenly as the scouts charged toward him. Always Johnny would remember the shock and disbelief in his eyes, the way his mouth opened in surprise. He turned and, still holding his ledger book, quirted his white pony, shouted at the grazing herd. He galloped through the milling horses, heading toward the village to warn his people.
He must not be allowed to reach the camp, Johnny thought, raising his pistol. The boy shouted a warning, but the thunder rolled again and drowned him out. Or was it thunder? Those in the camp below might think so, Johnny realized, but in reality, it was the drumming hooves of the hundreds of Fifth Cavalry horses making their charge.
Even as he aimed at the crippled youth, Johnny hesitated. He no longer saw him as a hated enemy, but as a young boy, a human being with a long life ahead of him. Their eyes met for a split second as the boy looked back over his shoulder. Johnny couldn’t do it. He couldn’t pull the trigger on a crippled boy. But in the moment that followed, someone else did.
A shot rang out, drowned by the rolling thunder of hooves to all but those riding in the forefront of the charge. A splotch of crimson soaked the back of the slight form. For only a heartbeat more, the boy clung to his horse, obviously determined to make it to the camp to warn his people. He cried out faintly, then fell from his running pony and was lost beneath the hooves of the running herd.
Johnny felt a sudden loss as if a little piece of himself had died with the enemy youth. Now his thoughts went to Luci, somewhere in that camp ahead. “Cut off that herd!” he shouted with a wave of his arm “Don’t let it reach the camp!”
Charging riders raced to do his bidding and Johnny spurred his great horse, galloping into the edge of the camp in the front of the attack.
Behind him, the Pawnees raised a savage war cry, exulting in the coming fight. Once he, too, would have been eager to kill, ready to dip his lance in old enemies’ blood, take their hair to hang on his pony’s bridle, and dance the scalp dances. But now as the first shots rang out, he thought of his enemies only as fellow human beings who, like himself, wanted more than anything to live. He cursed, thinking how a blue-eyed half-breed girl had ruined him as a warrior forever. Beloved enemy.
People ran out of their tipis as he galloped into the edge of the camp ahead of the cavalry charge. “Luci? Luci, where are you?”
His voice was drowned out by the roll of thunder, the echoing shots, shouts, and screams of confusion.
Luci sat in Tall Bull’s tipi with the captives, listening to the growing thunder. If there were a terrible storm, would tonight’s marriage to Snake be called off? Probably not. She should have escaped last night when she had that chance. Even as she thought that, she knew she could not have taken it, not when it would have brought punishment to Bear Cub, Susanna, and Maria.
The thunder boomed louder. “It must be a terrible storm,” she shouted to the two women. A storm. She remembered the old Shaman’s warning. Beware of the storm and the thunder from the north. Beware of the white horse. Such nonsense! And yet she shivered as the noise outside the tipi seemed to build to a roar. Now there were screams and shouts and loud noises, almost like shots echoing all around the camp.
Mercy! What on earth? Luci ran outside, followed by the two white girls. The camp was under attack! She saw a blur of garishly painted brown bodies, then blue uniforms coming down the slope behind the braves. For a split second, she stood there, not quite sure what to do, or which way to run in the shooting and confusion. The cavalry, Luci realized suddenly. The camp was under attack by the cavalry! “We’re saved!” She turned to yell at the captives, “The army has found us! We’re–Tall Bull, no!”
Her uncle had run up behind the captives. Even as Luci screamed her protest and ran to stop him, it was already too late. The flashing lightning reflected off his tomahawk as he swung it. “Soldiers never get captives alive!”
Maria and Susanna turned and threw up their hands to ward off the blows even as Luci risked her own life, grabbing at his arm. He shoved her to one side and tomahawked Susanna as he shot Maria.
“No!” Luci screamed, kneeling beside the bloody bodies. “Oh, my God, not now! Not when rescue is so close!”
Tall Bull turned, grabbed up his Appaloosa’s reins, and took off at a gallop.
She must get help! How? Where? All around her were noise and confusion as people ran and horses charged past. The acrid scent of gunpowder made her cough. Her ears rang with the shots. A very few of the pony herd made it into the camp, and Dog Soldiers grabbed the mounts as they ran past, then swung up on them using their long manes to guide them.
Was someone calling her name? Dimly, Luci heard a voice over the roar around her. Luci, it seemed to call Luci, where are you?
“Johnny?” Through the swirling smoke, she saw a big brave on a giant black horse. “Oh, my God, Johnny! I thought you’d never come!”
But even as she ran toward him, a galloping horseman leaned over and lifted her before him on to a pinto pony. “Morning Star, I’ll take you out of here!”
“Snake, let go of me! I don’t want to go with you!” Luci struggled, but she was helpless in the ugly Dog Soldier’s grasp. He spurred his horse around and took off at a gallop through the camp.
“We’ll live to fight another day!” Snake shouted and hung on to her as his pony galloped toward the edge of the camp. If he could make it out of the camp, he might escape across the prairie.
“The captives are hurt!” she screamed, and fought him, but he held her easily. “Snake, don’t you hear me? Our own people are hurt. They need help! You can’t just run!”
But he didn’t slow his pony. “I don’t care about anyone but you! We can escape!”
In the swirling smoke Johnny saw first the bloody captives lying on the ground and then Luci being grabbed up by a galloping Dog Soldier. Frantically, he waved for a medic and watched a split second to see David Van Schuyler rushing to aid the women. Then Johnny took off at a gallop after the Dog Soldier.
The smoke from gunfire and flaming tipis burned his eyes and nostrils. His ears rang with screams and the neighs of dying horses. Half-naked children and old women ran before him. The storm to the west rumbled again, blowing a chill breeze across his sweating face and bringing a new scent across the camp–warm blood.
“Luci?” He heard her scream somewhere ahead of him, and spurred his horse forward. Some of the Dog Soldiers had grabbed weapons, caught horses, and were fighting back. Oblivious to his own safety, Johnny cared only about saving the beloved enemy girl.
He charged after the ugly Cheyenne, who galloped out of camp toward a draw. But Johnny’s horse was fast. He was rapidly gaining on the other man, and the Dog Soldier seemed to know it, too. He glanced back over his shoulder, but he didn’t relax his grip on the screaming, fighting girl. Then as he chased the Cheyenne into a blind canyon, the man seemed to realize he was trapped. For a heartbeat, he attempted to turn his horse, but the mount stumbled and threw them both in the dirt.
The Cheyenn
e had a rifle and Johnny had only his knife and a pistol. The other brave had the advantage of a longer range. And even as Johnny fired, the hammer clicked harmlessly; all six chambers were empty.
But the other had heard the sound, too. The Dog Soldier came up grinning. “So now you die, Pawnee coyote!”
Luci grabbed the man’s arm, pleading with him. “Let him live, Snake! I’ll go with you!”
The ugly Cheyenne laughed, shaking her hand away. “So you care that much for this wolf for the bluecoats! I’ll enjoy his death twice as much and you’ll still go with me, Lucero. I intend to have you for my woman!”
Could he bargain with Snake to save Luci? Johnny dismounted slowly, tossing away the useless Colt. “Let her go. Kill me, take my horse, but let the girl go!”
Snake laughed, dragging Luci along by the arm as he advanced on Johnny, rifle ready. “You have nothing to bargain with, scout! I want your life, and your horse, and your woman! Tonight, while ants and vultures fight over your rotting carcass, I will lie between Lucero’s thighs. Think about that now, scout. As you die, think about how I will enjoy her!”
That thought was more terrible to him even than his own death. As the ugly Cheyenne dragged the weeping girl forward, Johnny tried to decide what to do. All he had was his knife. To save his own life, he would not risk Luci’s.
What could she do to save her love? Luci tried desperately to think of something as Snake dragged her toward the big stallion. All Johnny had was a knife, and that wasn’t much good against a rifle. If she grabbed the barrel, and held it against her, the shot would kill her, but give Johnny time to make a move. Beloved enemy. Yes, it was worth the sacrifice to save the man she loved!
“Step away from that horse, Pawnee!”
Slowly, Johnny obeyed.
Cheyenne Caress Page 35
