The disadvantages of this plan were all too obvious to him. Any indians that happened to be in the area as Hugh floated by would be bound to see him. This time of year, the river ran slowly enough that a man on foot, or swimming with the current, could catch him easily. This would be even more true for men on horseback. With every tribe in the area potentially on the warpath, the this would be asking for trouble. Hugh still had no means of defending himself.
It was a knotty problem. Hugh didn't get to ponder it for very long. Suddenly aware that he was being watched, Hugh looked to his left. On a hill just outside the village, a dozen mounted Sioux braves sat regarding him. Calmly, they began to walk their mounts toward the village. Cursing his clumsiness, Hugh waited for them. It would have been a wasted attempt to try running or hiding from them. They had seen him long before he became aware that they were there.
One thing you could never show to the Sioux, or to any of the tribes, was fear. The indians respected bravery, but to display fear was to court their contemptand a slow, painful death.
Hugh Glass waited. He was determined that, whatever happened, he could not let them take him prisoner. If they tried, he would have to make them kill him quickly. No one knew better than he did what kind of creative tortures they were capable of. Better to force them to kill him quickly, if it came to that.
Hugh hoped it wouldn't. He had things he still needed to do. Specifically, he had two men to kill.
The Sioux entered the village, taking their time. Like Hugh, they would have watched the village for some time before making their presence known. They knew he was alone.
Standing on the slope of the earth lodge, Hugh tried not to look too dependent on the crutch. The Sioux warriors rode up to him, fanning out in a semi-circle. There were thirteen in all. Behind them ran a string of six extra ponies. Thinking they were going to surround him, Hugh took an awkward step back and prepared to fight. The indians stopped.
For a moment nothing happened. Hugh stood, waiting as the indians regarded him. Then one of the warriors spoke--not to Hugh, but to another member of the war party. Without a word, that indian got off his horse. Carrying his lance, the brave walked up to Hugh. Not knowing the indian's intention, Glass balanced on his left leg and held up the crutch to protect himself. The indian held up his hand in an un-threatening way. Warily, Hugh lowered the crutch.
The indian seemed to be examining Hugh's wounds. Hugh knew that he looked a mess, but aside from an occasional dip in the river, there was nothing to be done about it. He could only imagine what his face looked like. The wounds on his neck and scalp were nearly healed, but Hugh had been unable to remove the thread that Henry and the others had sewn him up with. To the indians, he must have looked like a patchwork quilt.
The indian on the ground spoke to the man who ordered him to examine Hugh, then moved around to look at Hugh's back. Watching from the corner of his eye, Hugh Glass allowed him to do so.
Wrinkling his nose at the smell, the indian peered closely at Hugh's back and began talking excitedly to the others. As he spoke, he made a clawing motion in the air. Those who were on horseback gave murmurs of astonishment. The man who had spoken first--who seemed to be in command of the group--was wearing a bearclaw necklace. Holding it up, he addressed Hugh in a questioning way. Hugh didn't speak their language. He could only guess at what he was being asked.
He nodded.
The indian then noticed the bundle of corn that Hugh had taken from the cache. Pointing at it, he once more asked what seemed to be a question.
So that's why they're here, he thought. They're after the corn. Just like me.
"Over there," he told them in English, "in a small clearing, three lodges over."
The indian with the bear necklace spoke quickly to two of the others. Without hesitation they rode over to the place Hugh had described. Hugh smiled.
"You speak english," he said to the indian.
"Little," the man answered. Then, indicating the man who was on the ground, he added, "He say, you back, full worms."
Hugh exhaled.
"Well," he said, "I knew something was going on back there."
The indians found the corn. Immediately, they began to scavenge poles from the burned out village, and started constructing travois', which they fastened to the extra ponies they had brought. It was clear that they intended to take all the corn they could possibly carry.
The indian who had spoken to him said nothing more as the others worked, but he stayed next to Hugh. Finally, he spoke again.
"Where-you-gun?" the Sioux warrior asked.
"Gone." Hugh told him. "Two white men stole it--long way back." He pointed back in the direction he had come from. "They thought I would die. I'm going to Fort Kiowa to get a new gun, so that I can find those men and kill them."
The indian accepted this as perfectly logical. Nothing more was said betwee them.
After awhile the others came back, having loaded all the corn that was in the cache. Without a word they mounted their ponies and began to exit the village. Jus before they reached the gate, the indian who spoke English said something to the man that had examined Hugh. Abruptly, that man turned and rode back to where Hugh was. Turning his horse sideways in front of Hugh, the indian put out his hand. Hugh accepted. None too gracefully, he managed to climb up behind the indian and onto the horse. In moments, they had left the burned village behind and were riding toward the village of the Sioux.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
IT WAS ANYTHING but an easy ride. Hugh's wounds were not yet healed. The fact that a large chunk of his right buttock had been bitten away made it awkward for him to sit in the saddle, as well as painful.
Hugh wasn't sure what to expect from the Sioux. He didn't think they intended to kill him. If that was what they wanted he would already be dead, or would be undergoing a slow, painful torture. Since that hadn't happened, and since he'd helped them find the corn they were looking for, it was likely that they intended to help him. Indians respected bravery. The fact that he had survived the attack by the grizzly and was intent on killing two white men would be big medicine to them. It's probably because I'm going to kill two white men, he thought humorously. Two less white men would be a plus to them.
They traveled until late in the afternoon, heading west, finally stopping to make their camp next to a stream. For Hugh Glass, it was none too soon. The last hours of the trip had been spent in agony. Knowing the Sioux would be watching for signs of weakness, he kept his face impassive and didn't wince. The exertion of his feat caused the sweat to roll down his body. By the time they stopped he was soaked from head to foot.
Tomorrow, he knew, would be no better.
Out of respect for his hosts, Hugh limped downstream a short distance, then walked out into the water and washed himself Perhaps later the Sioux would kill him, but for now they were treating him kindly enough. It seemed to him that the least he could do was to try not to smell bad.
When he came back he found a familiar scene. A fire had been constructed. A few of the men were around it, lying on their backs, thumping their chests and humming. Hugh felt a sudden homesickness for the Pawnees. He missed Big Axe, Big Soldier, Lucky Hawk, and the others. He made up his mind that, when this was over, he would go and pay them a visit.
That was, if he lived through it.
Almost as soon as Hugh returned from his bath, one of the indians came up to him carrying a small bowl. At first Hugh thought it was food, then he realized that the bowl contained a liquid that had healing herbs in it. Turning, he allowed the man to clean his back wounds.
The effect was almost immediate. Instantly, the itching ceased. The liquid caused the wounds to dry up, where before they had been open and runny. By the following morning the wounds would be scabbed over and would finally be starting to heal. When the indian was done, he showed Hugh the "worms" that had infested his back. They were actually maggots. That made Hugh feel only slightly better about having them there. He remembered a ship's
doctor telling him once abou deliberately putting maggots on a wound. The maggots ate the dead flesh, which helped to prevent putrification from setting in. Disgusting as it was, these little "worms" might well have played a major part in saving his life.
For supper, they ate pemmican and corn. Hugh ate only a little. Then exhaustion overtook him and he crawled off to sleep.
The trip back to the Sioux village took three days. Each of those days was the same for Hugh Glass--agonizing and exhausting. He nearly fell from the back of the horse several times. On the second day, his buttock wound broke open. By the end of the day his right leg was soaked with blood. The indians seemed to find some humor in this. Working together, they managed to produce a piece of cloth, which they folded and, after some difficulty, tied into place, giving him a new "butt". This improved his balance and made it easier to stay on the horse. Sitting on the cloth, though painful, kept the wound from bleeding.
Hugh greeted the sight of the village with mixed emotions. It was a relief to know that the long hours of painful jostling on the back of a horse would soon end, but Hugh was apprehensive. What he knew of the Sioux came mostly from when he lived with the Pawnees. The Pawnees and the Sioux were mortal enemies and would kill each other on sight. Living as a Pawnee, Hugh had fought them, but he knew little about their customs of hospitality. So far they were helping him, but you could never know when that might change.
They entered the village amidst a chorus of greets and yells, and a lot of curious stares. Hugh knew the indians in the village would have been hopefully expecting the loads of corn, but the sight of a busted up white man riding along was a surprise to them.
The village itself was much like the portable villages of the Pawnees, and consisted of teepees made of buffalo skins. Hugh didn't know if the Sioux kept permanent lodges or not. The Pawnees did, but they were on the move for about eight months out of the year.
Like the Pawnees, the Sioux men were clean-faced and probably considered facial hair unclean. This made Hugh a little uncomfortable. Since being mauled he had not even attempted to use his razor for anything other than survival. His neck wound alone made it almost impossible to shave. Hugh knew he must look a real sight to them.
They rode into the center of the village and stopped. Immediately, the women began attacking the bundles of corn, pulling them off the travois' and piling corn into baskets. With help from the man he was riding with, Hugh gingerly let himself down.
He had a moment to look around now. The men were talking amongst themselves, and the women were emptying the bundles of corn. A large group of children had gathered to stare at Hugh. Hugh looked around at the teepees and at the general layout of the village. Other than some of the markings and artwork he saw, this could almost be a Pawnee village. The biggest difference that he noticed was in the way the men wore their hair. Most Pawnee men shaved their heads, leaving only a scalplock. The Sioux warriors wore their hair long. This made the Sioux seem less ferocious, although only slightly so, and this, Hugh Glass knew, was an illusion. Some of the men wore buckskin shirts, but many were bare-chested. Those men who went shirtless all had thick scars on their chests. Hugh had heard that those scars came from enduring the Sioux rites of manhood.
The attention of the men suddenly turned to Hugh. They formed a circle around him, which he guessed consisted of their principal warriors and their chief. The chief was a proud, white-haired warrior with a powerful manner and sharp eyes. He said something to the man next to him, who spoke english to Hugh.
"You--fight with bear?"
"Yes," Hugh told them. "I fought with a bear."
The man related Hugh's words to the chief. The chief nodded and spoke again.
"Where bear now?" the man translated.
"The bear is dead," Hugh answered, not really knowing if it were true or not. "The men who were with me took the skin. They took my weapons and left me to die, alone. I am going to Fort Kiowa to get new weapons. Then I will find these men and kill them."
Again the interpreter told the chief what Hugh had said. Once more the chief spoke. The Sioux warrior relayed his words.
"You welcome here. Stay long--get better. You ready, we take to fort."
The men continued to stay with him for a few minutes longer, examining his wounds, shaking their heads in awe and appreciation. Then, one by one, they began to drift away. As the circle of men parted, the women were able to get in where they could see.
About fifteen feet away, one of the women stood idly looking on, holding a basket of corn at her waist. Something about her was familiar... Slowly, Hugh's mind accepted the fact that he was looking at Little Feather. Almost at the same instant, recognition showed in her eyes as well. Dropping the basket of corn, she pushed through the crowd of women and rushed to him, nearly knocking him to the ground in her excitement.
"Taka-Kuruks! Taka-Kuruks!" she cried. "You came! At last, you have come for me!"
***
The Sioux had pulled her from the river, more than a year earlier. She had been unconcious and close to death. Although they thought her their enemy, they nursed her back to health. It was only after she was awake and able to talk to them that they realized that Little Feather was one of their own. At that point they refused to let her return to the Pawnees. She explained that she had a husband--a white man living with the Pawnees, and that she had to get back, but they insisted she stay with her own people. Since that time she had waited for Hugh to find her, sensing and hoping that, somehow, he would do so. Over the past few months there had been pressure for her to choose a new husband Little Feather had been stubborn in her refusal, insisting that Taka-Kuruks would find her.
Ashamed and disappointed in himself for letting Little Feather down, Hugh found it nearly impossible to tell her that he had given up looking for her a year earlier. It was only his own sense of conscience, sharpened by contact with men who had no conscience at all, that would not let him keep silent.
It didn't matter to her. It pleased her that he had grieved for her for so long. What was important was that they were together again.
***
Hugh stayed with Little Feather for several days, growing stronger each day. They were happy, blissful days compared with those he had just been through. Under the care of the Sioux, his healing seemed to accelerate.
Both Hugh and Little Feather knew he couldn't stay. He had made a promise to himself to kill two men. Every scar he carried from his encounter with the grizzly, and every ache he endured from those wounds, was a reminder of that promise. Hugh knew he would never be at peace until he had confronted Bridger and Fitzgerald.
When it was over he would return to her.
PART THREE
And anger in him... was a still, white Hell... "
-John G. Neihardt
"The Song of Hugh Glass"
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
ON OCTOBER 8, 1823, Hugh Glass arrived at Fort Kiowa. Six Sioux braves were with him, having accompanied him from their village. The indians knew the fort, having gone there before to trade. Kiowa was the nickname of the man who had built the fort, a man named Brazeau, and had nothing at all to do with the indians of that nation. When Brazeau passed on, the nickname fell to his son, so it was Kiowa Junior that stood behind the counter at the general store, and looked in awe at the spectacle of a white man that entered, surrounded by six Sioux braves.
Hugh was wearing a new buckskin shirt and pants, so most of his wounds were hidden. He still limped, though. Little Feather had shaved him, so the wounds on his scalp and throat were visible. She had taken the stitches out for him, too. These had been in much too long. The scars would remain a permanent reminder of the hardships Hugh Glass had endured.
When Hugh told Kiowa what had happened to him, the storekeeper could only shake his head in wonder.
"My god," he told Hugh, "what an incredible story. What trials you have gone through! What did you say the names of the two men were?"
"I didn't. Don't worry, they know w
ho they are. The others who were with them do, too."
"Well, I admire your discretion. If it were me they'd abandoned, everyone I came into contact with would hear of it!"
"After I deal with them. In the meantime, I'll need a new outfit. The bastards took everything I had."
"Take anything you need," Brazeau told him. "You're an Ashley man, so your credit's good. Just sign for whatever you take."
"I was hoping you'd say that." Then, indicating the indians who had brought him to the fort, he added, "In that case, I'd like to repay these gentlemen for helping me out."
"Of course. Take whatever you need."
Hugh gave each of the indians a new knife, blankets, and beads, thanking them for their kindness. Then he gave Bright Eagle, the man who spoke English, a bolt of blue cloth that had a red trim on it, and asked him to give it to Little Feather.
After the indians had gone, Hugh asked Brazeau how things were on the upper Missouri.
"Pretty much back to normal," the storekeeper said. "Some of the tribes started to go a little wild after the bad show that Leavenworth made, but after word got out about the burning of the Arikara village, things settled down again. In fact, Toussaint Charboneau is taking a party of men up to trade with the Mandans in a couple of days."
"I'll be going with them," Hugh told him.
Kiowa looked shocked.
"Are you sure you want to do that? I mean, so soon? Will you be in any shape to travel?"
"I made it here, didn't I"
As for the Arikaras, they appeared to have broken up into several groups, and no one seemed to know where any of the groups were. Two of those groups, though--one led by Elk's Tongue and another led by Bloody Hand, were known to be looking for trouble. Hugh Glass knew both of these warriors, and they knew him. He also knew that, since being recognized by Little Soldier during the fight at the Arikara village, Taka' Kur'uks would be considered an enemy to all Arikaras. It wouldn't matter that the Arikaras had attacked first. The fact that he had once been their "friend" and that he had slain one of their principal warriors would be enough to place him high on their tribal death list.
Hugh Glass - Bruce Bradley Page 21
