She was sitting outside Iron Wing’s lodge one bright summer morning when Tall Buffalo, Bull Calf, and a dozen other braves rode into camp leading four captive white men.
Katy watched with interest as the four men, all soldiers, were tied to four of the cottonwood trees that grew along the northern edge of the camp. The men struggled valiantly, but they were outnumbered and quickly subdued.
Katy stared hard at the men. She had not seen another white person for so long that it seemed odd to see hair and eyes that weren’t black or dark brown, stranger still to see a man with a beard. One man, a sergeant, had blond hair and a bright red moustache. Another had brown hair and light eyes, the third was bald, but he wore a handlebar moustache and a full beard. The last prisoner was just a boy, no more than sixteen or seventeen.
There was a good deal of excitement as the Indians began to gather around the captives, reviling them in the Cheyenne tongue. Some of the women poked the prisoners with sharp sticks, shouting with glee when they drew blood.
Shocked and disgusted by such unnecessary cruelty, Katy went into Iron Wing’s lodge, her mind awhirl. Were those four men all that was left of a larger group? Perhaps there were other soldiers in the area. Perhaps they were searching for her!
Towards evening, Katy left the lodge and strolled casually toward the prisoners. No one paid any attention to her. Iron Wing was with Tall Buffalo. Most of the women were busily preparing the evening meal, or tending their children.
The four white men glared at Katy as she approached them, thinking she was just another squaw come to torment them. The bald man spat at Katy, and she drew back, confused, until she realized that, with her black hair, sun-browned skin, and Indian garb, the soldiers had mistaken her for a Cheyenne.
“Listen, please,” Katy whispered in English. “I am a captive, as you are.”
“My God,” breathed the sergeant. “She’s a white woman.”
“Yes.” Katy glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Are there other soldiers nearby? Will they come looking for you?”
“No. Damned redskins took us by surprise. They killed the others. We’re all that’s left.”
“Lady, cut us free,” begged the bald headed man.
“I can’t. Not now.” Katy smiled as an idea struck her. “If I can free you, will you take me away with you?”
The sergeant grinned broadly. “Shit, little lady, if you can get us out of here while we’ve got our hair, we’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”
Katy smothered the happy laughter bubbling in her breast. Soon she would be free! It was almost more than she could bear.
“I’ll be back later, when everyone is asleep,” Katy promised, and hurried back to Iron Wing’s lodge before she was missed.
Dinner was a tense meal that night. Katy was on edge the whole time, and she ate without tasting anything. So absorbed was she with her thoughts and plans, she did not notice Iron Wing’s speculative gaze, and when he sat back to smoke his pipe, she quickly put the dinner things away, then crawled into bed, pleading a headache.
She pretended to be asleep when Iron Wing crawled in beside her. Nerves humming with excitement, she forced herself to lie still until she was certain Iron Wing was asleep. Lying there, she felt a twinge of apprehension as she contemplated freeing the prisoners. It had seemed such an easy task in the light of day. She would cut them free while the village slept unaware. They would steal five horses, sneak out of camp, and ride like hell!
But now, with Iron Wing sleeping close beside her, his arm flung across her breasts, doubts began to creep into Katy’s mind. What if she were caught freeing the prisoners? What if, once out of the Cheyenne camp, they were captured by the Utes, or the Crow? What if she freed the captives and then they refused to take her with them? And what of Iron Wing? How far would he pursue her? He had already killed four men because of his desire for her.
Doubts, doubts, nothing but doubts. With an effort, she cast them aside and slipped out from under the buffalo robes. Taking one of the knives she used to slice meat, she crept outside and stood in the shadow of the lodge, listening to the sounds of the night, and the frantic pounding of her own heart. Heaving a sigh, she tiptoed through the sleeping village toward the prisoners.
The men were awake, waiting for her, and they called out to her in anxious whispers, begging her to hurry.
Cautioning them to be silent, Katy began to saw through the heavy rawhide cords binding the first man’s hands. Fear and excitement hummed in her veins. This is it! she thought. Soon I’ll be home.
She had almost cut through the rope when one of the white men uttered a vile oath filled with despair.
Katy froze as a shiver of apprehension slithered down her spine. She was suddenly very cold, as if her blood had turned to ice water. Without turning around, she knew Iron Wing was standing behind her. She could feel his dark eyes drilling into her back. A wordless cry of terror erupted in her throat as she dropped the knife and ran back to Iron Wing’s lodge.
Ducking inside, she sank down on the sleeping robes, her legs too weak to support her. What would he do? What would he do?
Heart pounding like a wild thing, eyes wide, ears straining, she waited. And then she heard the soft thud of his footsteps. A rush of cool air brushed her cheeks as he opened the lodge flap and stepped inside.
He loomed large and terrible before her, his face a dark mask of anger. Never had he looked so fierce, or so frightening, and Katy knew that the consequences of her act would be far worse than anything she had imagined.
She waited in dreadful anticipation for him to speak, but the force of his anger held him mute, and only the violent pulsing of a muscle in his jaw betrayed the depth of his fury.
The seconds dragged by, each one seeming like an hour. Finally, without a word, Iron Wing tossed a handful of wood on the sputtering coals, then sat cross-legged before the fire, his eyes intent on the rising flames.
Despite her fears, Katy felt her eyelids grow heavy. With a soft sigh of hopelessness, she curled up on the soft robes and fell into a troubled sleep.
Iron Wing watched Katy sleeping, his thoughts in turmoil. He longed to go to her, to take her in his arms, but he knew if he touched her, he could never do what had to be done. Head raised, arms outstretched, he beseeched Man Above for strength and wisdom.
When Katy woke the next morning, Iron Wing was still sitting beside the fire, though only cold ashes remained in the pit. He raised his head when she sat up, and Katy felt a warm surge of relief when she saw that the anger was gone from his eyes. She read pity in his expression now, and what might have been compassion.
“Get ready,” Iron Wing said tonelessly. “It is almost time.”
It did not seem wise to argue or ask questions, so Katy obediently put on a clean dress and began to brush her long black hair.
Iron Wing rose smoothly to his feet when she laid the brush aside. For the first time, Katy noticed he was wearing his best wolfskin clout. Fringed leggings hugged his powerful legs. The bearclaw necklace circled his throat.
“Come,” he said flatly.
Timidly, Katy asked where they were going.
“The prisoners are going to be killed this morning.”
“Killed? Why?”
Iron Wing looked at her as if she were a not-too-bright child. “They are our enemies. What else should we do with them?”
“You could let them go.”
“No. They must pay for the Cheyenne blood they have shed.”
“I don’t want to watch.”
“It is necessary for you to be there.”
“Necessary?” Katy asked, puzzled. “Why?”
“You were caught in a deliberate act of disobedience. You must be punished.”
A small knot of fear began to form in Katy’s belly. “Punished how?”
“The usual penalty is ten lashes,” Iron Wing answered in the same flat tone. “But since you are not Cheyenne, and a woman, it will only be six.”
Katy s
tared at him in disbelief. “You’re going to let them whip me?” she asked incredulously. “What kind of a man are you?”
“I am a Cheyenne warrior, and you are my woman. A law must be for everyone, or it is no good.”
“But you’re the only one who saw me,” Katy said, her voice rising in desperation. “Please don’t do this. I’ll do anything you want, only please don’t let them whip me.”
“There is nothing I can do to stop it. Sun Dreamer was making water behind his lodge last night. He saw you cutting the white man free.”
Katy listened to Iron Wing’s words, but she did not hear them. She was too frightened to understand, too hopelessly scared of what was coming to notice the tormented look in Iron Wing’s eyes, or to see that he was dying inside. She could not know that he had spent the night haunted by visions of the lash tearing into her tender flesh.
“I’ll never forgive you for this,” Katy threatened. “Not the longest day I live.”
“It is time,” Iron Wing stated. “When we get outside, stay beside me. The prisoners will be killed first.”
The whole village was assembled around the four white men. Katy’s fears for her own punishment were quickly forgotten when she saw the prisoners. They had been stripped naked, and she realized with horror that the Indians were going to torture the men in some way.
Sun Dreamer stepped into the middle of the crowd, and an immediate hush fell over the tribe.
“When the white man first came to our land, we met him in peace,” the medicine man began slowly. “But the white eyes do not want peace. They have killed the buffalo and defiled mother earth with their plows. And now they openly make war against us, shedding the blood of our young men, despoiling our women. There will never be peace as long as the white man lives. But now it is our turn to draw blood!”
And that is what the Indians did. One by one, each member of the tribe old enough to hold a knife stepped forward and slashed at the white men, until there was not an inch of any of the prisoners that was not torn and bleeding.
Katy looked away, unable to watch, as some of the older children ran forward and drove their knives into the arms and legs of the captive white men. There would never be peace, she thought sadly, not when such intense hatred was passed from parent to child.
The Indians were careful not to sever any major veins or arteries. Nevertheless, the blood flowed freely, coursing down the bodies of the white men in scarlet rivers, oozing from cuts in their faces and necks, until the dirt at their feet was stained with crimson.
It was a cruel, painful death, Katy thought sympathetically. The slightest of cuts was painful when the air touched it. She could not imagine such pain multiplied a thousand times.
Two of the white men wept helplessly, their tears turning red as they dripped onto their bloodied faces. The bearded man mumbled the Lord’s Prayer over and over again, his voice growing weaker each time as more and more of his blood was spilled. The sergeant bore the Indians’ abuse in stoic silence, even when Iron Wing’s hunting knife carved a deep slash across his belly.
Katy’s eyes burned with accusation and reproach when Iron Wing returned to her side. “How can you attack four helpless men?” she demanded coldly. “How can you condone such treachery? You’re nothing but savages, all of you!”
Iron Wing was still holding his knife in his hand. He stared at it for some time, watching a single drop of blood slip toward the tip of the blade, glistening brightly in the sunlight before it fell to the earth.
He was still staring at his knife when he began to speak, his voice pitched low so that only Katy could hear him.
“Once, long ago, a peaceful band of Cheyenne were camped at Sand Creek. They were there with the permission of the Army, and were supposedly under the protection of the white man’s fort. But one cold winter morning the village was attacked by white men. Almost two hundred Indians were slaughtered that day. Most were women and children.” Iron Wing lifted his head and gazed deep into Katy’s eyes. “Is that not treachery also?”
“Yes,” Katy admitted. “But that was a long time ago. You said so yourself. Surely these men were not responsible.”
“Yes, a long time ago,” Iron Wing repeated softly. “I was a boy of thirteen summers then.”
“You were there, at Sand Creek? How awful!”
“Yes, awful. My parents were killed that day, shot down in cold blood. Our chief, Black Kettle, dragged me to safety.”
Iron Wing paused for a moment, staring at the prisoners. The bearded man was already dead. Two were whimpering pathetically. The sergeant remained stolidly silent, though his whole body trembled convulsively.
“Four years passed, and I became a warrior.” Iron Wing picked up his story in the same flat tone of voice. “We were camped in the valley of the Washita when Yellow Hair came. It was winter again, and the snow lay thick upon the ground, but that did not stop the soldier coats from attacking our village. They made music while they slaughtered my people.”
Another prisoner died with a high-pitched whine that sent shivers skittering down Katy’s spine. A look of satisfaction flitted across Iron Wing’s face as he went on with his story.
“Black Kettle, that mighty man of peace, was killed that day, shot down with every other warrior found in the village. When the battle was over, Yellow Hair killed the wounded. Women or children, it made no difference to the soldiers. Tall Buffalo and I were out hunting that day, or we would have died with the others.”
Iron Wing finished his story and Katy realized the entire village was silent as a tomb. Death was in the air, and all eyes were focused on the last two prisoners. Against her will, Katy found herself staring at the dying white men. Their bodies were splotched with red, as if someone had thrown paint over them. Their faces were pale and waxy looking, and Katy knew they could not last much longer.
The young boy cried out for his mother. It was a pitiful call for help that brought tears to Katy’s eyes. It was the boy’s last utterance. A heavy sigh escaped his bloodless lips, and then his body sagged against the ropes that held him erect. The sergeant turned his eyes toward Katy.
He sent her a brief smile before death took him.
A collective sigh rippled through the crowd as they turned away from the dead men.
“It is time,” Iron Wing said, and his words filled Katy with despair. There was a moment of sheer breathtaking panic that threatened to drain the strength from her limbs, and then a peculiar icy calm engulfed her. Whip her, would they? Well, let them! They were nothing but a bunch of damn savages, and Iron Wing was the worst of the lot!
Head high, chin thrust out in defiance, Katy followed Iron Wing to the whipping post. Someone reached out of the crowd to give her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. Someone else, Yellow Flower, perhaps, whispered, “Have courage, little sister.”
The post loomed directly ahead, tall and menacing even in the light of day. She was aware of many eyes fastened upon her, of numerous faces turned in her direction. She knew most of the Cheyenne people, but now they all looked like strangers. She saw Bull Calf standing nearby, but he would not meet her eyes. Tall Buffalo stood beside the boy, his handsome face grave and filled with disapproval.
Iron Wing’s face remained impassive as he tied Katy’s hands to the post, then ripped her dress from neck to waist, exposing the smooth creamy skin of her back and shoulders.
Katy felt a quick flash of anger because he had ruined her best dress, but then she realized that, had he slipped the garment down to her waist, he would have exposed not only her back to the watching tribe, but her breasts as well. Apparently it was all right for everyone to see her humiliated, she mused bitterly, but it was not all right for anyone else to see her naked.
From the corner of her eye, Katy saw Sun Dreamer hand Iron Wing a long black whip, the kind used by muleskinners and stagecoach drivers. Somehow, the fact that Iron Wing was going to beat her made it seem even more terrible, more degrading, though she could not think why.
A wry smile twisted Katy’s lips as Iron Wing shook the whip out to its full deadly length. He had always threatened to beat her, and now he was getting the chance. She wondered if he would enjoy it.
“The woman, Ka-ty, was caught in a deliberate act of disobedience,” Iron Wing called out for all to hear. “The penalty is ten lashes, but because she is only a white woman, and not a Cheyenne, the penalty will be six lashes.”
Only a woman! Katy let out an angry breath. Damn him! Only a woman, was she? She would show him that a white woman was the equal to any Cheyenne. She would show them all!
“I demand the full penalty!” Katy shouted in the Cheyenne tongue.
“Ka-ty…” Iron Wing’s voice begged her to accept the lesser penalty that he had argued so hard to win for her.
“Don’t speak to me, you savage,” Katy hissed through clenched teeth. “You have made me a squaw, now I insist that you treat me like one. I want no special favors from you.”
Iron Wing’s face went white, and then he let a surge of pride sweep through him. Truly, she was a remarkable woman, the equal of any Cheyenne, male or female.
There was a low-pitched murmur as Iron Wing raised the whip, and Katy sucked in her breath, all her bravado gone now that the time was at hand. Was this why Iron Wing had killed four men, she thought, on the verge of hysteria, so he could whip her to death? Why didn’t he do it and get it over with? Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Tall Buffalo standing beside Iron Wing.
“I will do it,” Tall Buffalo said, his voice hushed so only Iron Wing could hear his words.
“No. She is my woman. It is for me to punish her.”
“You will never forgive yourself for this if she dies at your hand,” Tall Buffalo argued. “And she will never forgive you for hurting her.”
Iron Wing nodded in agreement, his eyes dark with torment. But he could not let Tall Buffalo whip Katy. He would kill anyone who dared lay a hand on her. In his heart he knew that he would die a little each time the lash cut into her delicate flesh.
Love in the Wind Page 13
