Silken Savage

by Catherine Hart

  Following the storm, there was a sudden break in the weather. The air turned balmy and held the smell of spring to it. The celebration to honor Hunter’s birth was held, and the drums beat out the news; Black Kettle’s grandson was born.

  Activity picked up around the camp as the Cheyenne were able to move about as they had not since winter had set in. Quickly, the braves organized a hunt, as food supplies were extremely low. While they were gone, the women scoured about for dry firewood and cleaned the winter’s collection of debris from their tipis and the camp. From the still frozen earth, they dug roots to supplement their food stores and fished the frigid stream.

  Tanya did her share of the work, glad to be out, about, and slim once again. Sometimes she left Hunter with Melissa or Woman-To-Be-Hereafter, but often she bundled him into his cradleboard, swathed in furs, and carried him along on her back. She’d talk softly to him as they walked along, or sing lullabys to entertain him.

  Kit and Kat were always underfoot. At first Tanya was fearful the large cubs would harm Hunter, and kept a watchful eye on them. They were about half-grown now and had lost their spots and the rings on their tails. They had exchanged their downy kitten-fuzz for a glowing coat of tawny fur.

  From the first, the cats adopted a protective attitude toward Hunter, as though he were one of their brothers. They fought over the space near his cradle, nudging one another out of the way until they could both find room. There they slept, guarding him all night.

  They followed when Tanya took Hunter on her walks. If she left him with Melissa or Woman-To-Be-Hereafter, one of the cats would go on with Tanya while the other stayed with Hunter. It was quite a sight to see them padding through the village together. Many a solemn faced Cheyenne had to smile at the picture they created.

  The warriors had no sooner returned from their hunt, when a messenger arrived for Black Kettle. It startled Tanya to see a white man in camp for the first time, and she stayed in her lodge until Panther came to explain.

  The message was from Major Wynkoop at Fort Larned, Kansas, to inform Black Kettle of a meeting to be held on Pawnee Fork in April, the next moon. General Hancock, newly arrived from the east, wished to meet with the renegade leader of the Northern Cheyenne Dog Soldiers, Roman Nose, and all Cheyenne Chiefs. Hancock and his company, including young George Custer, wished to discuss a new treaty. Major Wynkoop, agent to the Cheyenne and Arapahoe Nations, was arranging the talks.

  George Bent, the son of William Bent, and his Cheyenne wife, Owl Woman, was the messenger who had arrived. William Bent had operated the trading post at Bent’s Fort, which he later sold to the U.S. government. After that, Bent’s Fort had become Fort Lyon, a military fort. Tanya recalled having met William Bent and his second wife, Yellow Woman, when the wagon train had stopped at Fort Lyon.

  George Bent, himself a halfbreed, had years before married Black Kettle’s niece, Magpie, Panther’s half- sister. She had come with him, and Tanya soon discovered why she was called Magpie. The woman never stopped chattering.

  Magpie had been married to George Bent at age fourteen. She was now twenty-two, and they had a son, Blue Horse, who had just turned eight, and another who was four.

  Tanya thought the woman extremely homely, though very friendly. She could not imagine how Panther’s father, White Antelope, could have fathered such a handsome son and such a plain daughter, and she told Panther so as delicately as she could.

  Laughing, he told her, “You should have seen her mother! I take after my father, whom everyone thought was very handsome. Magpie resembles her mother, my father’s second wife.”

  “Where is her mother?” Tanya asked.

  “She died several years ago.”

  “And what happened to yourmother?” she persisted. Until Magpie had arrived, Panther had not talked much of his family, and Tanya had not even been aware he had a half-sister.

  “My mother is gone also,” he said simply, and from that she assumed Panther’s mother, too had died.

  “You’ve never mentioned Magpie. Have you any other brothers or sisters?”

  Panther grinned. “Not that I know of; at least none that my father openly claimed as his.”

  “Panther!” Tanya pretended to be shocked at his words, but she couldn’t prevent a smile from escaping as she shook her head at him.

  “I think after Father saw what Magpie looked like, he gave up,” he joked.

  Tanya laughed. “You are terrible, Panther, but I love you.”

  * * *

  Pawnee Fork was roughly 300 miles from where Black Kettle’s tribe was now camped. Traveling at a brisk pace, it would take at least half a month to get there, so the tribe packed up and moved out right away. The women were dismayed that they had not had the opportunity to plant their spring vegetables, but Major Wynkoop had sent word that food and blankets would be distributed at the meeting place. Tanya looked forward to a new supply of coffee, flour and salt. The braves hunted along the way and the women gathered berries and roots wherever they stopped to camp.

  A third of the way into their voyage, the tribe camped near Fort Lyon. Panther, George Bent, Winter Bear, and some of the other braves went to the fort to trade furs and hides for supplies. Tanya held her breath until they returned safely with their traded goods. She couldn’t help wondering if Jeffrey was once again stationed there and if perhaps he and Panther had come face to face, neither knowing of the other.

  Under a wave of homesickness, she longed to see her family once more, but she would never jeopardize her life with Panther and her son to do so. She told herself it didn’t matter, swallowed her longings for her family and bravely went about her business, reminding herself that she was Cheyenne now. Her family would not understand. They would never accept Panther or Hunter, and Tanya could never give them up. They were her heart, her soul, and her life, and she would die before she would part with them.

  When they at last reached Pawnee Fork, a tributary of the Arkansas River, Major Wynkoop rode out from Fort Larned to meet them. Several other tribes had arrived ahead of them, including Roman Nose’s band of Dog Soldiers from the North. General Hancock, being new to the area, mistakenly assumed Roman Nose to be a chief, an important chief, and would not hear otherwise. Major Wynkoop tried to tell him that Roman Nose was merely a warrior leading a group of renegade Dog Soldiers on unauthorized raids along the Colorado-Kansas border. He stressed that Black Kettle, a peaceful man, was head chief of the Southern Cheyenne; Dull Knife, the chief of the Dog Soldiers; and Panther, Little Robe, and Little Wolf also important Cheyenne chiefs. Chief Little Raven was also expected with his band of Arapahoe.

  Hancock shrugged off Wynkoop’s information and advice. He preferred to form his own opinions and enlist his own scouts and advisors. He waited impatiently for the tribes to arrive, expecting them to be grateful and humble that the U.S. government was recognizing them and prepared to treaty with them. He completely ignored the fact that the government meant to steal away more of the Indian land, invade their hunting grounds, and open the territory to settlers, all the while expecting the Indians to calmly accept this, sign away their lands, and remain peaceful.

  Black Kettle settled his tribe upstream, away from Roman Nose’s band and the main camp of Cheyenne. He was insulted at the snub from General Hancock. Chief Little Raven, when he finally arrived, camped nearby.

  While they were awaiting the arrival of the other tribes, Major Wynkoop came often to soothe Black Kettle’s injured pride. He brought a few gifts, but most of them would be handed out once the talks were underway.

  Black Kettle and Major Wynkoop understood and respected one another. Their association went back to the time when Major Wynkoop had first come west, when he had been commander of Fort Lyon; before he had been relieved of duty there and replaced by Major Anthony in 1864. Wynkoop had mourned with Black Kettle over the Sand Creek Massacre and the death of White Antelope. He had railed at the government and defended the Cheyenne and Arapahoe.

  Wynkoop went out of
his way to understand the Indian way of life. He truly liked and respected them. Quite possibly, he was their only true friend among the whites, for he stood up for them time after time. He visited Washington and met with government committees on their behalf, and argued for their rights.

  Wynkoop detested the cavalier attitude the government took toward the Indians. They grabbed Indian land with one hand, doling out a handful of worthless trinkets with the other. They initiated treaties that cheated the Indian, then expected him to abide by them while the government broke nearly every one. It saddened him to see peaceful men like Black Kettle sit down in good faith, only to be cheated. He could not blame some of the younger chiefs and braves for becoming angry when they saw the whites breaking their word. He sympathized with their plight, and while he could not condone their raids and war parties, he understood it.

  On one of Wynkoop’s first visits, he discovered that Black Kettle had an adopted daughter who had married Panther and given him a son. He wondered about the woman they called Wildcat, for he could not recall having seen or heard of her before. His curiosity was such that Panther decided something had to be done about it. Constantly making excuses to Wynkoop to cover Wildcat’s absences was likely to make the man suspicions.

  All the other white slaves had been hidden whenever Wynkoop or his men were about. Had he not been so curious about her, Tanya would merely have remained out of sight during his visits.

  Between them, Panther and Tanya devised a plan. Using Panther’s paints and wood dyes, they darkened Tanya’s tawny locks. Her skin had tanned almost as dark as Shy Deer’s in the last year, but a bit of root dye rubbed into her flesh darkened it further. By leaving her hair loose to shield her face and eyes, her disguise was complete.

  The next time Wynkoop arrived, he found Panther, Wildcat, and Hunter in Black Kettle’s lodge. Tanya was seated to the rear of the tipi with Woman-To-Be-Hereafter, nursing her son. He greeted her in Cheyenne, and she responded softly in kind. Later, as her mother served Major Wynkoop and Black Kettle their meal, Tanya served Panther, careful to keep her face shielded. With her darkened hair and skin, she looked like any other young Cheyenne woman.

  Major Wynkoop spoke to her, nearly causing her to drop the bowl she carried. “You are called Wildcat?” Keeping her eyes lowered, she answered. “I am called Little Wildcat.”

  “How did you come to be adopted by Chief Black Kettle?”

  Tanya swallowed hard and adlibbed, “He took pity on a girl who had lost her family.”

  Here Black Kettle cut in, “Truly, I wanted the most beautiful girl in the tribe for my daughter, and jumped at the chance.”

  Wynkoop chuckled and joked. “Why didn’t you take her to wife instead of adopting her?”

  Not taking offense, Black Kettle responded, “She already had eyes for Panther, and I am too old and wrinkled to compete with such a handsome, virile young buck.”

  “You may be long in years, my friend, but your heart is yet young.”

  At one point in the visit, Wynkoop surprised them all by asking if he might hold Black Kettle’s new grandson. Tanya nearly swallowed her tongue, but at Panther’s nod, she brought the child forth and laid him in Wynkoop’s arms. Luckily, Hunter was asleep, so his eyes remained closed. With his dark complexion and midnight hair, he was obviously an Indian infant. He did not awaken the entire time Wynkoop held him.

  Major Wynkoop arrived so frequently and unannounced, that Tanya thought it wiser not to wash the stain from her skin and hair until after the meetings were over and the Cheyenne could move on. As it turned out, this was sooner than anyone expected.

  Hancock was ready to start the talks immediately after all the tribes had gathered. He had a treaty to get signed as soon as possible, and wanted to get it sent to Washington quickly. He became agitated with the standard rituals the Indians expected. They were lengthy and involved, and the tribes expected them to be observed as a matter of courtesy before any important matters could be discussed and decided upon.

  Hancock, in his impatience, rudely cut the rituals short on the third day. He sent the chiefs back to their tribes, instructing them to advise them of the terms of their treaty to be signed. Giving them two days at most, he told them not to return to Fort Larned at the end of that time. He would come the few miles to their camps and meet them in their own lodges then.

  The chiefs were very upset and nervous at this pronouncement. They went back to their people and presented the case for a vote. Black Kettle’s tribe decided to ignore the treaty offered them. They were anxious over having Hancock and his troops arrive in their camp. Fearing another deception, and remembering the Sand Creek Massacre, they voted to pack up and flee south before the two days were up. In the middle of the night, under cover of darkness, they fled, taking everything with them. In the light of dawn, the only signs of their camp were a few still smoldering campfires.

  The other tribes evidently decided to follow suit, some of them not so quickly, however. Many tribes left their lodges and heavier belongings behind in their rush. Not one Cheyenne or Arapahoe remained when Hancock arrived. So incensed was he by this, that he ordered the villages that still stood burned to the ground. He sent out scouts and small companies to try to locate and overtake the Indians, much to Wynkoop’s dismay. General Custer’s company spotted what was believed to be Roman Nose’s band headed northwest, but could not catch them. No sign of Black Kettle’s tribe or any of the others was found except a few scattered campfires and a handful of confusing trails that always seemed to double back on themselves and disappear. They had vanished overnight into thin air.

  That spring of 1867, both Northern and Southern Cheyenne banded together to make war on the whites. They raided, hitting settlements and terrorizing settlers all along its course.

  As the cavalries lent chase, sent from the forts to rout the Cheyenne, the tribes split up. In June, the Northern Cheyenne went north of the Arkansas to raid and raise havoc. Black Kettle and Panther, led their people south into Texas territory to a place the whites called Sweetwater, but the Cheyenne had named Bitter Water. They camped on a branch of the north fork of the Red River. With this as their base, they raided in northern Texas, Colorado, and Kansas, rampaging all along the territory south of the Arkansas River. Between them, the Northern and Southern Cheyenne held the entire area in terror that summer.

  Far enough south not to be bothered by the soldiers, the Cheyenne women of Black Kettle’s tribe felt safe enough to plant their crops. All summer they tended their plants and children under the hot Texas sun.

  Early June brought the wedding of Winter Bear and Shy Deer, which had been postponed until now. Between raids, the newly-wedded lovers grabbed every second they could get to be alone together. By summer’s end, Shy Deer was already expecting their first child.

  Their tribes stayed on at Bitter Water through September, giving the women plenty of time to harvest their crops. Periodically, between raids, the men would organize a hunt, but it was nothing like the hunts they had been on the previous summer. It promised to be a lean winter, unless the weather held.

  Hunter grew by leaps and bounds. A sweet- tempered baby, he was constantly smiling and cooing. That summer, as small as he was, Tanya taught him to swim in the shallows of the river. He seemed to do everything at an early age. He was sitting at five months old, and cut two pearly front teeth about the same time. At six months, he was jabbering his very first words, not calling for his mother or father, but for Kit and Kat. By mid September he was crawling, and getting into everything. Tanya swore she had everything imaginable hung from the walls and poles of the tipi out of his reach.

  Everything his chubby little hands could grasp went into his mouth, including the cubs’ tails. The only time he was still was in his sleep, and Tanya would kneel for ages over his cradle gazing at his cherubic face with its chunky, rosy cheeks and small red bow-shaped mouth. Awake, he played for hours on end with the toys Panther had carved for him, his golden eyes sparkling with delig
ht.

  With Panther gone so much that summer, Hunter was Tanya’s joy. He never lacked for attention but neither did he seem to become spoiled by it. Black Kettle and Woman-To-Be-Hereafter adored him. Walks-Like-A-Duck and Shy Deer were always willing to take him off of Tanya’s hands for a few hours, and Melissa doted on him like a second mother. As much love and affection as he received and gave to the others, Tanya included, when his father came home, Hunter preferred Panther to anyone else.

  The summer was hectic. It seemed the men were always gone and Tanya cherished the few times Panther was home. His muscles, always hard and well-honed, were even more so now. He was leaner, having little time to eat properly and being always on the move. If possible, the sun seemed to have bronzed his skin to an even deeper hue.

  Lying between his hard thighs each night, Tanya revelled in their stolen moments. Nowadays, they came together with an urgency that bespoke the danger ever-present in their lives. Each time he rode away from her, there was the possibility he would not return.

  “I know you must go,” she told him, “but I cannot help worrying over your safety.”

  “I cannot promise to return to you if the spirits wish it otherwise,” he answered, softly stroking her hair, “but my heart is with you always.”

  When Panther was at home, he enjoyed spending time with his wife and son. Each time he returned, Hunter had grown more and learned something new. He applauded his son’s achievements as proudly as any father the world over.

  The picture Panther took with him on each trip was that of Wildcat nursing his son at her breast. That mental portrait was precious to him. Each time he saw the small dark head nestled tenderly against her, the rosy lips eagerly searching out her nipple, his heart overflowed with love.

  Tanya’s figure had altered with the birth of their child. Though still slim, her breasts were more full and her hips more rounded. Gone was the girlish maiden’s form, and in its place was that of a mature woman.