Eagle People
Page 18
“I don't understand. All blood is red, right?”
“What I mean is, the chemical makeup of blood is different with some people. Some may be this type while others will be another type. Like types can be used to transfer blood. Use the wrong type and you kill the receiver.”
“How can one type be identified over another?”
“We lack the equipment and skills, but the Cheyenne Mountain People can do it. All of this medical stuff will save lives in the long run. How long does an average male live, right now, in our village? Fifty years?”
“About that, but some die younger and some older.”
“The average life span with the Sergeant's people is 83 years, which is one hell of a big difference.”
“Thirty two years is a long time. They must know much.”
“They do know much; the mountain is stocked well with medical supplies, and their doctors, they don't call them shaman, are well trained. They have rooms for surgery, to help their injured and sick, and machines assist them in saving lives. I think this move, once we iron out our minor differences, is best for The People.”
“We shall see, my friend, won't we?”
Four days later, the village was strung out for almost a half mile as they moved north by west. Sergeant Dooley pleaded with folks to stay together, but some were still weak from the pox, others were old and some were young, so the pace was difficult for them.
At one point, Mongoose move to Eldon and said, “Remember the people we found slaughtered out here on our way to the mountains? We need to find a way to keep our people close together. If we're all strung out like this and attacked, we'll lose many to death and injury. Any ideas how this can be done?”
“I think we should take some horses from the herd, place an older person and younger person on the same animal. Have them ride double. We have plenty of horses, so we can swap them out every couple of hours. On foot they'll never be able to keep up.”
“Let's try this and see if it works. The way we're spread out now worries me. We get all stretched out and then attacked it'll be all over except for the crying.”
An hour later the group was tighter and Dooley had two of his soldiers riding herd on the ass end of things to keep all moving forward. Of course, a man was riding point, one drag and outriders were in position.
Those in front rode slower than normal to allow all to stay together.
Dog Soldiers were out and about as well, constantly coming and going, making reports and so far all was well, or so it seemed. Finally, one Dog Soldier reported seeing well over a hundred horse tracks and they were carrying weight, which in most cases meant riders. But they were moving east and passed in front of the Eagle people a good half a day earlier.
When they stopped for the night, Mongoose ordered double guards and Amon complained of a feeling he had of being watched. Dooley felt they were watched as well but said, “Watching us and attacking is something very different. If they see the guns we carry they'd be fools to attack us.”
“They could attack at night, when they suspect all of us are asleep. A gun does a sleeping man no good.” Mongoose said and then added, “Two hours before dawn, I want everyone up and in a defensive position. I want the wagons circled tonight, tongue to tailgate, and the women, children, and elderly, except for warriors, inside the circle. The rest of us will circle the circle, so to speak.”
“Pass the word, if you have to relieve yourself tonight, do it in place. Moving around in the dark would be a good way to get killed. I don't know for sure we'll be attacked, but I always listen to feelings like I have right now.” Amon said, and then gave a weak grin.
Supper was cooked at individual fires, each family cooking their own meal, which was mainly beef and roots, such as cattail roots or wild potatoes. Most made simple soups, but some fried the meat and the roots. As the wonderful scent of cooking food filled the air, Mongoose and Amon ate leftover stew from the night before.
As soon as the sun went down, most went to their blankets, tired after their first day of travel. To all, except the warriors, the day had been long and exhausting. Guards moved to their posts and fires were banked for the night.
Amon awoke with a touch to his ankle. He noticed the moon was full and Mongoose signed, “It's quiet, but time to get up.”
Rubbing dried sleep from his tired eyes, he stood, picked up the rifle, and moved away from the others where he peed. As he turned, he noticed others doing the same and not a one left the circle to take care of business.
He found Sergeant Dooley, who said, “We've movement all around us, but nothing we can identify clearly. It started about twenty minutes ago and has increased.”
“They'll hit us at full light then. I need you to walk around the circle and tell the soldiers and warriors what you just told me. I want them alert and awake at dawn.”
As Dooley walked away, Amon thought, I hope there are not a bunch of them or some of our people will die.
He squatted behind a bush and waited, his finger off the trigger, but close enough for instant use. He looked to the east and saw the sun would be visible in just a few minutes.
The Sergeant had just returned when dark shadows began moving toward the wagons. Amon quit counting at 200 and thought, Damn me, but this is going to be hard.
Arrows flew through the air, to land where most of the warriors had spent the night, but all they struck were blankets. The warriors had all moved. Still they proceeded slowly forward toward the Eagle People.
As the first rays of sunlight showed over the land, a loud war cry filled the cool morning air and men ran for the wagons. Most of the attackers were coming from the west, while a few ran from the north. Not a sound was heard, until Sergeant Dooley yelled, “Fire!”
Rifle fire began to drop the warriors, as spears and arrows joined in the defense of The People. Screams were heard, yells for help, and shouts of anger. Amon fired at a huge man in front of him, struck him in the head, and down he went; the men behind him were splattered with gore. He shifted slightly to the left and fired single shots as he dropped man after man.
From his left, he spotted a figure at the last second, and before he could react, the man struck him. The impact knock the M-16 from his hands and they both landed in the grasses. Amon stood first and pulled his battle ax. The attacker picked up his spear and made a wild thrust at the Eagle warrior and when the shaft passed him, Amon swung his ax and severed the spear. He then moved forward, holding his ax at the ready. When the man turned to run, Amon threw his ax with all his strength and laughed when the wide blade stuck in the mans back, parallel to his spine. He picked up his rifle, checked the barrel and once sure it was clear, he began picking his targets.
The battle raged all around him and at one point he saw the enemy break through the line, but Mongoose and her warriors quickly filled the hole. Dead men littered the field.
An arrow of flames landed on the grasses, but due to the recent rains it did no damage. Amon heard three long whistle blasts and the enemy started to withdraw. He continued to select targets and drop them as quickly as he could. Empty magazines were on the ground in front of where he'd made his stand.
From out of the blue an arrow struck his left foot and when he glanced at it, the shaft was of the Northern Plains People, and the foot was pinned to the ground. He felt no pain, but he'd experienced enough combat to know it would come, as soon as he came down from his adrenaline high. During the wounding, other than flinching when the arrow struck, he'd kept shooting and dropping the Northern Plains warriors.
Loud explosions were heard and the unexpected noise scared the Northern Plains People, who suddenly broke into a fast run toward the rear. It must have been the grenades Dooley told me about, he thought as his pain started to come.
Suddenly it was quiet, except for the injured and dying, who were moaning, groaning, or screaming. Off in the distance, someone coughed.
“Everyone, remain in place! Stay right where you are!” Mongoose yelled.
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br /> An hour passed before she spoke again, “Dog Soldiers, check the enemy who are down. Those that are not dead, help to the other-side. Leave none alive.” Then, she turned slowly, in a complete circle, as if taking in the casualties and destruction of the enemy. She then asked, “Sergeant Dooley?”
“Yes, ma'am?”
“Get one of your men to get me a count of our wounded and dead. Have another team of two, one counting and one guarding him, find out how many dead the Northern Plains People have.”
“Yes, ma'am. Stokes, Wilson, count the enemy dead. Wilcox, see to our people and get a clear number on our casualties.”
“Will do.” Stokes said.
Wilcox, already walking toward the inner circle replied, “Give me a few minutes.”
Mongoose walked to Amon and gasped before she said, “You've been wounded.”
“Arrow through the foot, but I'll still ride this morning.”
“Sergeant, can you help Amon to the circle? He's a foot wound.” She squatted, broke the shaft and then pulled the arrow from the wound. Blood flowed freely.
Dooley walked to the two, looked the injury over and said, “Best and fastest way to get you there is to pack you. Just lean forward at the waist and I'll pick you up with my shoulder.”
Amon grunted with almost every step, mainly because the man's shoulder was digging into his ribcage. Once at the circle, Mongoose removed his shoe, looked the injury over closely and said, “You're very lucky, or so I think. There has been some tendon damage, but not nearly what I feared.”
Wilcox walked to Dooley and said, “Sergeant, we have three with arrow injuries, all minor and no dead, inside the circle. Outside the circle we have two dead and four injured. One of the injured has a serious injury to his lungs and is not expected to make it.”
Mongoose smiled and said, “Many less dead and injured than I feared. The guns made the difference.”
“That they did, ma'am.” Sergeant Dooley replied with a grin.
Wilson approached and said, “Over a hundred dead for the Northern Plains People, actual count is 127. Most were injured, but all are dead now. From the tracks, I estimate maybe 75 lived long enough to retreat.”
Mongoose said, “Everyone, listen up. We leave in an hour. I want the injured care for and they will ride in the wagons. Harness the horses to the wagons and if you're going to eat today, do it now.”
“Today?” a female voice asked.
“Yes, today. I suspect our cooking fires were spotted last night and while the enemy was already watching us, the fires allowed them to pinpoint us. Our next meal will be dried beef and that will be near dusk. Let's move, people, we need some distance between us and this place.”
Amon asked, “Do you think it's safe to move?”
“Yes, the Northern Plains People have just lost more than half their manpower, so I don't expect them to be stupid enough to attack us anytime soon.”
“I'll get a few teams of Dog Soldiers moving around us and Dooley, if you'll put one of your men on point and drag, I'll supply the outriders.”
Dooley yelled, “Wilson, you have point of the way out of here and Wilcox, you're my drag man.”
“I hear you.” Wilson replied.
“Got it.” Wilcox said and then grinned. He enjoyed drag, because he felt it was the safest place to ride.
“Now,” the shaman said, “I have to pour some whiskey on Amon's foot. I will then sew the injury closed on both sides. While I boil my tools and thread in water, I highly suggest you make a big dent in this bottle of whiskey, my friend.”
Amon smiled through his pain and said, “Don't worry about me, I'll take the pain, but I do enjoy a few good sips of whiskey now and again.”
The shaman laughed and once he grew serious said, “Remember, no walking or standing on this foot for a couple of weeks. It may cause you pain for the rest of your life, but it's hard to say at this point. Pain I'll give you, I promise, and in only a few minutes, but you've been warned.”
Amon picked up the bottle, took a long swig, and followed it with another. By the time the needle, thread and tools were boiling, he was drunk.
When the needle first pierced his skin, Amon gave a loud gasp, but kept his mouth shut. Warriors of the people were expected to ignore pain, and he'd do his best.
Thirty minutes later, his foot wrapped, he grinned and said, “That wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be.”
The shaman smiled, met his eyes, and then said, “Bullshit.”
Mongoose walked to them and said, “Go to your horses, we'll leave in a few minutes.”
Sergeant Dooley heard her comment and then yelled, “I want my point and drag men in place now. Let's move, people, we've miles to cover.”
The day was long and rough for Amon, especially when his foot started hurting and the ache wouldn't go away. He refused the strong drink and would continue to do so, until they stopped for the night. Once stopped, he'd take a long chug, or two, and was looking forward to the drink.
At the supper fire, Dog Soldiers reported all was clear, as well as the point and drag men. They'd stopped after crossing a deep stream, just to dry out, when Mongoose decided to call it a day, and to let them cook. They'd had a hard fight, some were injured, and many, even the healthy ones, needed rest. We've covered over ten miles and that's enough after a big fight like we had this morning, Mongoose thought.
The meal was beef roasted on a spit, freshly killed, and cornbread. The People had had cornbread since they could remember and it was easy to make, since they grew corn. They had a small mill that used water from a stream to crush the corn, so they could make cornmeal. The Cheyenne Mountain People had flour, but used a different system to grind wheat, which Mongoose found interesting.
Sergeant Dooley said, “Our mill uses huge stones, and the wheat is first husked and then our mill grinds the wheat into almost a fine powder, like dirt, maybe. We use a three-step process. We have eggs because we caught some wild chickens, years before I was born. As I said before, we also have domesticated some cows, sheep, dogs and cats.”
“Do you use the milk from the cows?” Amon asked.
“Yes, of course we do. It's good for baking and drinking.” Dooley replied.
“I've never tasted cow's milk.” Mongoose said.
“Never?”
“No, but only because we never thought to capture a cow. Our hunters usually take only steers, leaving the females alone, so they'll produce more cows.”
“Good plan, in my eyes.” Amon said.
“It's good cold.” Dooley said.
A young woman, who Mongoose recognized as Lilly ran to their fire and said, “I need help! My son was just bitten by a snake!”
Mongoose stood and said, “Amon, you and Dooley look for the shaman as I go to the boy. I will give first aid and try to determine the type of snake. Now, go.”
Mongoose, spear in hand, and the woman ran to the boy. She recognized the young man as John and when near enough, she asked, “Where is the snake, John?”
“In the . . . grass, or was, on . . . my left. See . . . the bush? He was right . . . in front of it . . . when I . . . was struck. It is . . . starting . . . to hurt.”
“I need to see the kind of snake and kill it if possible.”
“See . . . what kind, but . . . don't kill it.”
“Why not?”
“It was m . . . my fault. Let . . . snake . . . live.”
Mongoose looked and in front of the bush was a huge prairie rattlesnake, maybe four feet long. Using the tip of her spear, she flipped the snake into the bushes and watched as it slithered away. Turning to John, she pulled her knife, cut two deep X's on each fang mark and began to suck the poison from his leg. As her mouth filled with blood and poison, she'd lean over and spit the distasteful liquid to the ground. She disliked the coppery taste of the blood and the sour taste of the poison, but it was the only way she knew to treat him. Twenty minutes later, the men weren't back yet and John's leg was almost three times the siz
e of his other one. One thing at a time, she thought, get the poison out first, then worry about the leg swelling. Every snakebite I've ever seen swells, so this is normal.
“Lilly, start me a fire and then run back to my campfire and bring my leather bag to me. It is on the ground near where I was sitting, now hurry.”
As soon as the fire was burning, with hungry flames eating at the wood, Lilly ran away.
“John, how do you feel?”
“Hurt . . . bad. Leg too . . . tight.”
“The venom causes the swelling, but I have only seen the old and very young die of snakebite. If you are healthy, you'll be fine, but there will be pain.”
Lilly returned, but Amon and the shaman were with her.
“You've done well, my chief, and there is little for me to do, except give the young boy some whiskey for his pain.” the shaman said.
Amon asked, “Where do you want me to take him?”
“First, it was a prairie rattlesnake, was it not?”
“Yes, but John told me not to kill it.”
“He is a good boy then. The snake was only protecting itself and didn't attack because it was aggressive. John is wise in the ways of snakes and will one day be a man filled with compassion. We should not kill things just because they are acting as they are expected do. Now, Amon, if you will pick him up, take him to my fire.”
“Can I come too?” Lilly asked, her face red from crying.
“Sure, and Lilly, he will be fine. He's a healthy young man and has nothing to worry about, except for pain.”
As they walked away, Mongoose stood and scanned the area, stopping when she spotted a lone rider watching them from half a mile away. The rider watched for close to five minutes and then rode back over a crest to disappear. I need to get the Dog Soldiers on that rider, she thought, or we might have another attack coming.
Near her fire, she saw Albert, a Dog Soldier, talking with Dooley. She walked to her spot, lowered her bag and said, “Albert, to the south of us I spotted a lone rider watching us a few minutes ago. I want you to take another man and find out who that rider was. I suspect he's a scout of the Northern Plains People, but I need confirmation.”