by Lynn Landes
“You’d never know he was a savage from a distance. If it weren’t for the boots and hair, he’d look like any other man in a saloon,” the kid says to himself before his friend shoves him.
“What the hell was that? Are you trying to get us killed?”
“Of course not, I just wanted to make sure he was clear on the mission.”
“Your serious? We’ll just stay a while before leaving. I’m not sure I trust him not to wait around for us.”
The letter is heavy in his pocket like a weight pulling him under. They had an agreement after the last job that he was free of this. Now, the General has drawn him back in. Even at double the rate this job will be difficult. The natives are untrustworthy of everyone. Tracking a doctor, a captive Indian, and a soldier should prove simple enough. It’s getting across the land without encountering any of the other tribes that will prove difficult. Difficult, but not impossible. He grins and begins to plan.
Chapter 26
“Esteemed members of the Senate hear my plea. With the sheer size of the land and difficulty of the terrain, the U.S. Army needs your help. Innocent families are being slaughtered, supply wagons are intercepted, trains are being derailed and ambushed. We are down eight Gatling guns and hundreds of cases of weapons and ammunition. We’ve seen what happens when they use our weapons on our Forts.” General Barclay glances at Senator Crowder and nods. The Senator stands and speaks.
“Eight days ago, a band of Sioux led an attack on Fort Darion. They led soldiers away from the fort using a decoy band of Indians, and a second larger band raided the Fort. Killing women, children, young and old. None were spared.” Senator Crowder hands an envelope to the General who opens it and begins to distribute paper copies of tintypes.
“This is the aftermath of these attacks. You will see they mutilated the bodies for sport.” Gasps and groans, followed by shouts of outrage, filter through the men.
“General Barclay tell us what you need,” Senator Wes Briggs asks.
“I’m asking for authorization to conscribe five-hundred Indian Scouts for recon and combat duty. No one knows the territory better. We must ferret them out before they can regroup and attack again,” he demands loudly.
A commotion at the door, has everyone turning to watch a man enter with two U.S. Marshall following close behind. “Excuse the interruption, but I have information that needs to be heard,” Chase Rivers states loudly. “My name is Chase Rivers, retired U.S. Marshall.”
“This is a closed meeting of the Senate, why is a former U.S. Marshall being allowed entrance,” General Barclay shouts.
“The true question, General Barclay, is why you would authorize and carry out an attack on a peaceful tribe of Shoshone under the protection of a treaty? Two hundred men, women and children were slaughtered by your order, General!” Rage has Chase storming across the room, desperate to get to him. His friends struggle to hold him back.
“That’s ridiculous! Where’s your proof?”
“You left one alive, and she will be glad to testify against the atrocities you committed. Not only that, but the dead will speak. You left their bodies as evidence, decimated by Gatling gunfire,” Chase shouts.
“Gatling gun?” General Barclay smiles at the enraged Marshall and thinks, thank you, Marshall, you just brought the evidence I need. He turns to the Senators, “This is what I’ve warned you about! The stolen guns are being used to stage attacks to incite the tribes to join and fight us.”
Senator Briggs shouts, “That’s absurd, they wouldn’t kill their own kind, General.”
“Wouldn’t they? The tribes war with each other all the time. The Apache hunt the Sioux, the Sioux hunt the Cherokee, and so on. They only care for themselves and the salvation of their own tribes. They mutilate and hunt each other for sport all the time.”
“No!” Chase shouts. “They are peaceful people, reacting to the atrocities brought against them.”
“Are you related to Dr. Harris Rivers?” General Barclay asks.
“I am. He’s my brother,” Chase tries to speak, but it quickly cut off again by the General.
“That’s what I thought. I’ve heard rumors about your family and how they share the land with the savages. This Doctor even treated them during the war. You are prejudiced against our goals, Mr. Rivers, which is probably why you are no longer a Marshall.”
“Say what you want, Barclay, but everyone knows you are a butcher and now we have proof. Senators, I beg you, do not give him what he’s asking for. His personal vendetta will only lead to more violence,” Chase pleads.
“Two hundred at the Snake River? Imagine the death toll on a larger city of four or five times those numbers,” Barclay exclaims. “A thousand or more citizens. How many more must die for you to act? You have the reports of trains and missing weapons in front of you.”
Chase sees the moment they disregard him and his stomach revolts. “No. General Barclay lies!”
“Security remove this man! You have no proof, Sir and we have all the proof we need right here,” Senator Briggs shouts and shoves a picture at Chase.
“He’s orchestrated all of this to what end I don’t know, but I will find out.” Chase jerks away and slams from the council room. Followed by his friends. All he can think is that he’s got to get to his brother, Harris, and Kimani.
General Barclay stifles a grin and turns back, “The tribes are uniting gentlemen. If we don’t act quickly, we will be facing an army trained in guerilla tactics using our own weapons against us. To make it worse, they will be in terrain we are unfamiliar with.”
“It would be a slaughter,” one voice shouts. Angry voices raise, and Barclay relaxes. Fear always seals the deal. Inside he smiles. They will give him everything he asks for. Thank you, Rivers Brothers. He almost laughs in glee. Sometimes you must clear the vermin out before you can move in.
He will use the trackers to hunt them down and push those left alive from the land. Then the real work can begin. The Indians have no use for the oil flowing beneath the Fort. Gold and Silver have been stripped from this land but not the oil. It is the next big commodity, and once they are off the land, he can buy low and make an actual killing. One way or another, he snickers as he strolls out to his horse.
The sound of a gun cocking has him freezing in his tracks. “Did you really think it would be that easy, Barclay?” Chase snarls from behind him.
“Really, Marshall? You’d kill a General for those savages.” Barclay turns to look at Chase and smiles at the rage emanating from him.
“They were good people. Tell me this, General. How did you know the name of the River? I didn’t mention it by name.” Chase can see the fear enter his eyes. “You murdered them with no remorse!” Chase trembles and he can see all the varied ways that he could make him suffer.
“If I were you, Marshall, I’d be worried about my brother right now. I mean how well can a Doctor defend himself against an Apache hunter?”
Chase frowns and steps back when a voice shouts.
“Senator!” A voice calls and a clerk from the court runs over to him. “You left your case,” he holds up a leather satchel.
The General glances at the man and back to Chase only to find the spot empty. “Need to hire security,” he mumbles and grabs his case.
Chapter 27
“Tell me about the wolf,” Harris asks as they huddle in the cabin. A two-day rain storm has blown in giving them a chance to be still and rest. Harris leaves only to check on the horses and collect firewood. Vanessa sleeps, a lot and Harris watches over her carefully. The stitches were removed from her thigh, and though it will leave a scar, it will fade with time.
Vanessa stands up and walks with a groan, rubbing her back and ribs. “Is it normal, Dr. Harris, that the less I move, the more I hurt?” she teases and ignores his request.
“Yes, the body doesn’t like to be still. I can bring a tub for you to soak in if you’d like,” he offers.
Vanessa stares at him and smiles, “Don’t
tempt me, Harris. I’ll have you heating water for the next few hours.”
Harris laughs, “Yes, but the view would be worth it, Nessa.”
“Harris!” Nessa blushes and turns away to continue walking around the tiny room.
“Forgive me,” he pulls her back to the table and offers her some hot coffee. “Talk to me. Tell me about the wolf.” Green eyes look at him warily, and she chews her lip.
“You won’t believe me,” she whispers and looks down at the hot cup.
“I will always believe you, Nessa. Nothing you could say will make me doubt you,” he declares and squeezes her free hand gently. She clutches his hand and smiles at how true the words are. Her eyes lift to his, and she stares deep into the silver color.
“You must understand, Harris, I thought it was from shock, at first. The water was so cold, and they hit me, kicking me, and I thought the blows caused me to imagine him,” she murmurs, and the words begin to flow quickly.
“I rode from camp, fast, freezing from the river, bleeding and beaten, all I knew was I needed to put distance between us. I drove the horse hard, over and over I urged him to run. I gave him his head and leaned close the way Ahbe’ taught me.” A tear slips free, and she pulls her hand from his to wipe it away.
“The storm probably slowed them down,” Harris says.
Vanessa nods, “Yes, and I could hardly see through the flakes, so I stayed close to the river. I was panicked, I didn’t know what to do, and that’s when I realized I needed to get to you,” she sniffs and wraps her arms around herself.
Harris hides the way her words affect him. “You were going the wrong direction,” he says.
“Yes. I turned the horse, and that’s when the wolf came. He chased us down the river, snapping at my legs and drove me into the river.” Nessa jumps up and starts walking as she talks. “I had no choice, but to go across.” She paces remembering the sounds and fear.
“Did he follow?”
“No, not then.” Glancing over at him, she frowns. “Harris, I can’t…” she grabs her cup and walks over to the small kitchen area to wipe it clean. He follows her and pulls her back into the heat of his body.
“You said you trusted me, Nessa.” She turns into his arms and rests her head over his heart, listening to the steady rhythm.
“Nessa, I like when you call me that,” she murmurs and wraps her arms around him. Harris sighs and holds her tight.
“How many times have you seen him?” he changes tactics.
Muttering under her breath, she pushes away and stalks over to the fireplace. “Pushy weda,” she grumbles.
Harris laughs and follows her to sit on the bench. Nessa grabs a blanket and wraps it around her frail shoulders and stares at him. When he opens his arms to her and grins, she smiles and rushes to curl into his heat.
They snuggle together, and she turns into his neck to smell him, without even realizing she’s memorizing the feel, touch, and smell of him. Like she needs help to remember him. Harris frowns when her hand clutches his shirt in a fist. He covers her hand with his and presses a kiss to her forehead.
“Three or four times, I think,” she whispers. “Every time I’m in trouble, he shows up. Once when I blacked out, he slept with me, sharing his fur and body heat to keep me warm.”
Harris listens fascinated by the possibilities. “He warned me that you were in trouble,” he exclaims.
Nessa nods, “Ahbe’ told us once the story of the Spirit Walker.” She pushes back and looks at him. “When a warrior perishes with shame, he is not free to cross over until he resolves his dishonor.”
“Okay,” Harris runs a hand over his face and scratches his beard. “What are you trying not to say?”
The silence grows between them. “Ahote came to me in a vision, Harris. He apologized for hurting me and told me to be happy.”
Harris stares at her in surprise. “You’d be surprised by the things I’ve seen as a doctor, that have no explanation.”
Nessa sags in relief and drops her head to his shoulder.
“You don’t think I’m crazy?” she gasps.
“No, babe. I think anything is possible and I’m thankful that he’s watching over you.” Kimani glances up at him with tears glistening in her eyes. Her hand cups his face, and she strokes his beard.
“Thank you,” she leans over and kisses him softly, shocking them both. Jumping up she stumbles over the blanket and almost falls, but he follows her swiftly grabbing her before she crashes to the wooden floor.
“Easy, Nessa. I’ve got you.”
“Thank you,” she whispers and waits for him to untangle her. “I shouldn’t have done that. Forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive. As soon as this is resolved, and you are safe we will discuss our future.” Nessa steps back away from him even as he snarls. “I want you, screaming my name in passion. I want to take away all of your pain and replace it with pleasure.” She rushes at him and covers his mouth with her hand causing him to laugh.
“Stop!” The images of her night with Ahote making love for the first time are shut out by the thought of Harris touching her, loving her, and she feels shame. “This isn’t a game, Harris.” She shoves at him and struggles against the tears.
Harris grips her tightly by the upper arms, “I’m not playing, I’ve wanted Kimani for years, and now I find that I want Vanessa too. I won’t be ashamed of my feelings for you. It is natural.”
Nessa shoves at him, and this time he releases her. “You lost your wife, years ago. Maybe for you, it’s natural, but Ahote… is still with me. I don’t know what to do with all of this.” Tears stream now unchecked, and she sobs as he pulls her against him. “I’m so confused.”
“I’m sorry, Nessa, don’t cry. I promise not to push you again until this is over.”
“Thank you,” she pulls away and grabs a blanket to go sit on the porch and watch the rain.
Harris sits next to her on the deck as the rain washes the snow away, revealing muddy earth beneath. “Do you know what a gift it is, Nessa, to see him? I wonder what she’d say to me. Would she be proud of me? Would the love that I had for her still exist?”
A new shame strikes Nessa’s heart. Here she is complaining about seeing her husband, and he has no way to see his wife. “Any woman lucky enough to love you would carry that for a lifetime, Harris Rivers.”
Harris looks at her in surprise. “She’d be so proud of the man you’ve become, though she’d probably not like the beard,” Nessa teases.
“Thank you,” he says thinking of his wife and watching the rain.
Her heart breaks again, he still loves her after all these years. Once again, she is forced to face facts that they have no future together. But how does she tell her heart that? It has loved him for as long as she can remember.
Chapter 28
Tracking people isn’t as hard as the Army makes it sound. This woman is not Shoshone, she makes the mistake of thinking it is over. Blood Eagle laughs as he rides from town. Dr. Harris will be her weakness. He started the search at Riverton and soon learned that the Doctor was collected by a family of homesteaders outside of town.
“Tell me about this family,” he asks a stable hand and pulls out his wad of money. The boy’s eyes light up.
“What do you need to know?”
“Everything.”
Blood Eagle watches the family for two days before deciding to move on. This woman is surprising him. According to the stable boy, the family sold an army horse which General Barclay verified in his letter that she stole. They obviously sheltered her and somehow found Dr. Rivers. He sees no sign that she’s still with them. Sometimes the direct approach is the best. Killing innocents isn’t what he gets paid for. He only kills when necessary.
His map shows the nearest town to be Riverton. They may head back, but he is thinking that this Doctor will want to take her to safety. “Think like a white man,” he mutters and paces as he looks at the map. The railroad tracks are marked on the map, a
long with the army fort, rivers, and terrain. “Where would you take your woman to heal?” he mutters.
Someplace private, empty, safe… his eyes trace the railroad tracks, and he grins. Of course! He kicks the fire out and mounts to ride out. Following the tracks, he knows the Indians will have no problem killing him if he’s caught. He’s considered a betrayer to his kind, and it is true.
The goal is to survive, but from the size of the Army, he learned quickly that the only way to survive in the white man’s world was to have money. Lots of money. He joined as a scout and quickly proved his worth. The fact is that he doesn’t kill his own kind. They sometimes need to be convinced to move on. The reservations may seem cruel to those who are used to running free on the land, but it is better than the alternative, which is death.
His vision walk showed him the end of his people. Others fought against his belief, but the Apache don’t ignore the warnings of the spirits.
A few days later he follows train tracks, and it isn’t long before he picks up horse prints. The good thing about snow and cold weather is that the tracks are often frozen, and he’s able to read the depth of the tracks and determine how many riders are on a horse. He can even tell judging by the size if it is a mare, indicating a female rider or male. Blood Eagle follows the tracks to a camp overlooking the railroad tracks. Judging by the condition, he knows they’ve been gone for a while. Leaping down he walks around, following shoe prints. He frowns when he notices the animal print. “Ban-chu?” What is a wolf doing this far out from prey?
He trails along following the animals prints from the camp out around a tree. The smell hits him before his eyes reach the body. A dead white man, with his face missing. He’s on his back staring up in a bloody mess. Blood Eagle reaches for his knife, just in case, and he glances around, to look for more bodies. No signs of others. Footprints around the body as expected, a struggle but it’s the wolf prints that has him stopping, again. One on each side of the man’s body. A left paw and right paw, indicating that he straddled the body. “You’re a big one, aren’t you?” he murmurs.
