Cheyenne Song

by Georgina Gentry

  That was what David had said. David. His calm, dependable face came to her mind as her head cleared, and she lay there panting, a sheen of moisture on her skin from meshing with this virile warrior. Was she out of her mind; a civilized white woman lying naked on the grass, coupling with the Cheyenne brave who had kidnapped her? “Oh God, what have we done?”

  “I knew you’d regret it.” Two Arrows sighed, pulled away from her.

  Did she regret it? No, and yet, this was a love that could never be. “Lieutenant Krueger—”

  “To hell with Lieutenant Krueger!” Two Arrows flared. “I have so little respect for him, I won’t ever salute him!”

  He started to get up, but she reached out and caught his arm, not willing to give up the special intimacy they had just shared. “You don’t understand.”

  He brushed her hand away. “I understand; he’s rich and white. The ignorant savage was just a moment’s entertainment!”

  “No, it was so much more than that.”

  “Was it?” His voice was bitter as he turned and strode away.

  She stared after him, confused and unhappy. She wasn’t certain how she felt or even if her feelings really mattered. Sooner or later, most of these Indians would be captured or killed. Two Arrows would be punished for his part in this uprising; they would hang him or throw him in prison. No, he was too defiant to be taken alive; he would go down fighting. Once she would have looked forward to that; now she wished there was some way she could save him. It was inevitable. Two Arrows would be punished, the army would rescue her, and she would marry David Krueger. He need never know about this one Indian summer afternoon when a Cheyenne dog soldier had taught her passion such as she had not known existed.

  She could hear the confusion as the people made leave to march again. With a sigh, Glory reached for her clothes. Whatever the army’s action, she was still that warrior’s prisoner, and the Cheyenne were on the move.

  Fourteen

  As September lengthened, the Cheyenne moved across Kansas, fighting two more engagements with the army, then fading from the scene like wisps of morning fog. Only their footprints, or the occasional remains of a worn-out horse, gave any clue that they had passed through.

  On a cool morning, David and Corporal Muldoon, riding ahead of Major Lewis’s column, which they had joined at Dodge City, found an abandoned campsite. They squatted by the scattered bones and stared at them. “Those Indians are starving,” David said. “As much as the Cheyenne love horses, they’re eating them now; that means they’re desperate. Why don’t they just give up?”

  Corporal Muldoon rubbed his arthritic hands absently, stuffed them in the pockets of his fur overcoat, then looked back to the blue column approaching from the south. “Don’t ask an Irishman that question, lad. Freedom’s more important to men than food.”

  “You’re right; damn them! They’ve got Glory, and they can’t win, yet I can’t help but admire their spirit.” He stood up and fumbled in the pocket of his buffalo fur coat, found and lit his pipe, remembering everything that he loved about her. “Oh God, there’s no telling what she’s enduring.”

  “She’s a valuable hostage, lad. They’ll treat her well.”

  His old comrade was trying to comfort him, he knew, but it was useless. David had not known a moment’s peace since she’d been kidnapped. “That damned Two Arrows. I’m going to kill him personally; nothing else will satisfy me.”

  “Aye, but you may not be here for that. Remember, General Sheridan has sent for you.”

  “I don’t know what insight I can give him,” David grumbled, as he prepared to mount Second Chance. “I don’t really understand Two Arrows; except that he’s arrogant and disrespectful. I can’t predict what he’ll do next.”

  Corporal Muldoon pulled the collar of his thick buffalo coat up around his red ears. “You know him better than any man.”

  David put his pipe between his teeth, staring toward the north, wondering where his love was and how she was faring? “I wish I’d never laid eyes on him,” he answered bitterly. “And I intend to make him wish he’d never been born!”

  General Sheridan was in a nasty mood, David thought as he came into the general’s temporary office at the frontier fort, snapped to attention, saluted.

  “At ease, Lieutenant—?”

  “Krueger, sir.”

  “Krueger? Oh, yes, I remember your brother, William; fine soldier; too bad he was killed so early in the war; know your father, too.” He combed his fingers through his beard thoughtfully, and David flinched, knowing the officer was thinking how shameful it was that a family of military men had spawned one who had been broken in rank. Sheridan turned back to the maps spread on his desk before him. “You know something about these Indians, Lieutenant?”

  “Yes, sir.” David walked over to the map, studied it. “Unfortunately, they’ve got one of my ex-scouts with them, so he knows army thinking, what move we might make next.”

  His frustration and fury must have shown in his face and voice because the general said, “I hear you have a personal stake in this, Lieutenant.”

  “There’s a lady, Glory Halstead, who was kidnapped and taken along as a hostage.”

  “Hmm.” The older man leaned on his desk with both hands, staring at the maps. “Judging from past history of white women captives, you know what’s probably happened to her.”

  He didn’t want to think about it. “She’s spunky, sir. If anyone could survive an ordeal like this, Glory could.”

  “I didn’t mean just survive, Lieutenant.” The general hesitated. “You know what savages usually do to female captives.”

  David closed his eyes, swallowing hard, and when he finally managed to speak, his voice was little more than a whisper. “I love her. I want her back, nothing else matters, so I’m requesting a return to the field as soon as possible. I want to be there when she’s found; I want to be there to deal with Two Arrows!”

  “Easy, son.” The other man’s hard face softened, and he went over to a sideboard. “Here, have a drink, then look at these maps and tell me what you think. I’ve got to do something to get President Hayes off my back!”

  David accepted the brandy gratefully. It was the best, bracing and smooth. “I thought Major Thornburgh was closing in on them?”

  “Thornburgh!” Sheridan snorted as he sipped his drink. “Good fellow, excellent shot; we go bird hunting together. Unfortunately, all Tip’s done on this assignment is get his command lost in Kansas. The wires tell me he’s been wandering around out there for days without finding anything.”

  An aide stuck his head in the door. “Excuse me, sir, but I’ve got the latest papers. You said to let you know when they arrived.”

  The general set his drink on the desk as the aide brought in the newspapers. Sheridan took them, reading as he returned to the desk. “Damn it, I’ve got to end this Cheyenne thing; the papers are crucifying us!”

  David wasn’t sure whether he was expected to comment. He ran his hand through his light hair and waited as the older man spread the newspapers on the desk, scanning them.

  Now the general’s ruddy face turned redder still. “The press is laughing at the army; look at this one and this one!” He rapped his fingers across the papers. “They all want to know why a handful of ragged, starving savages are outwitting the finest army in the world!”

  “Like I said, sir, the Cheyenne have one of our best scouts advising them.”

  Sheridan paced the office. “That shouldn’t enable them to just disappear like ghosts! Last year, when the Nez Perce took flight, they had forests and mountains to hide in and still, the army caught them. These Cheyenne are moving across flat prairie that mostly wouldn’t hide a quail.”

  “Yes sir, but the Nez Perce didn’t have Two Arrows.”

  “You sound like you’re beginning to admire the red devil, Lieutenant.”

  “Not likely; although he’s done a superb job of leading his people and avoiding capture.”

  “Whe
re the hell do you think they’re headed?”

  “Back up to the Dakotas where they’re from.”

  “Impossible!” Sheridan snorted. “They can’t walk fifteen hundred miles across flat plains without being intercepted. There’s three railroads across their paths that can transport troops anywhere in a few hours. We’ve got telegraph wires galore to alert every fort and lawman at the drop of a hat. Walk fifteen hundred miles? For God’s sake; they can’t do this!”

  “Begging your pardon, sir,” David countered gently. “So far, they’re doing a pretty good job of it.”

  Sheridan didn’t seem to hear him. The officer was staring at the newspapers again. “Oh damn, here’s the Chicago Times and listen to this quote about Major Thornburgh’s fiasco: ‘It wasn’t that anyone expected Thornburgh to capture the Cheyenne, they’re just happy the Cheyenne have not captured the major.’ And here’s one in the New York Times commenting on the jealousy between General Miles and General Gibbon and that the Indians have outgeneraled the generals. Damn newsmen to hell, and I hope they take the Cheyenne with them!”

  David watched the officer pace up and down in a fury. “Those stubborn Indians are not going to ruin my career! The army will stop them, no matter how many men I have to put in the field.” He paused and looked at David.

  “Sir, I respectfully request an assignment back to the front. I want to be there for the kill.”

  “Yes, you’re going back to the Plains, Lieutenant. I want someone who can identify this Two Arrows when we finally corral those Indians. If he’s not killed in the fighting, we’ll hang him. We can’t allow the American public to sympathize with this so-called noble redman.”

  “My sentiments exactly, sir.” He thought of his beloved Glory, wondered again if she were alive, and if that savage had raped and tortured her?

  The general paused to light a cigar, stare at the map again. “Before the month’s out, I want the hostage freed, this Cheyenne scout dead, and the other ringleaders in prison.”

  David smiled without mirth. “Believe me, General Sheridan, Two Arrows is going to die. I promise you that!”

  It seemed to Glory as she rode behind Two Arrows that the Cheyenne had been on the trail forever instead of several weeks. Her expectation of being rescued had faded with each encounter with the army. Whether the soldiers were just being outwitted or outfought was something she hadn’t decided.

  “The bluecoats fight for money.” Two Arrows shrugged. “We fight for our freedom and our very lives. It makes a difference.”

  He had been cool and distant to her ever since they made love in a frenzy of feeling, only to realize it could come to nothing. For herself, she had never experienced such an emotional high, yet she didn’t encourage him, knowing it could come to nothing, and she was uncertain how she felt about him.

  It was almost dark somewhere in northern Kansas when the Cheyenne found a small arroyo that offered some protection from the chill wind and possible sighting by the army or ranchers. Two Arrows conferred with the chiefs and they called a halt for the night.

  He dismounted and held his hands up for her. She slid off the horse, too weary to speak and stood there a long moment, feeling his hands on her shoulders.

  “Proud One, you’re very quiet. What is it you are thinking?”

  She wanted to lay her face against his broad chest, but she did not. “The skirmishes with the army, this constant riding; will it never end?”

  “Maybe not,” he admitted, stroking her hair, “but Dull Knife believes the whites will let us live in peace once we return to our own country.”

  “How can he be so naive?” She looked up at him.

  “Man lives by hope, and that’s all the Cheyenne have right now.” He shrugged and began to unsaddle his horse.

  “If you don’t believe you can win, why do you go on with this fool’s errand?”

  “Because my people have confidence in me; they’ve given me another chance. I’m probably leading them to their deaths or a prison cell, but I can’t look them in the face and tell them freedom is not a possibility, only a dream.”

  “The wind’s getting cold,” Glory said, wrapping her arms around herself.

  “There’s a good place over there under that little bluff that should be warm enough with a campfire.” He turned his face toward the north. “Time is our enemy; winter may unleash heavy snows and bitter cold before we can make a permanent camp.”

  More people would die then, she thought. She avoided his eyes, knowing he watched her; seeing anger and hurt there. Worse yet, when she looked into his face, she remembered their frenzied, passionate coupling that day after they had crossed the river. She was not going to allow herself to care for this man; to do so would only add to the heartbreak and tragedy that waited at the end of this road. “I’ll start a fire.”

  “Keep it small,” he said. “I don’t want the north wind to carry the smell of smoke if there are soldiers anywhere south of us.”

  “We haven’t seen a sign of soldiers for days.”

  “They’re out there somewhere. Lieutenant Krueger is not going to give you up easily.”

  David. She felt guilty because he hadn’t crossed her mind in days. “This rivalry and hatred between you two isn’t about me,” Glory said as she broke up twigs. “It’s something between you two—a personal rivalry, about winning.”

  “That, too,” he answered, checking his rifle.

  “If it were just about me, the army would stop pursuing your people if you’d turn me loose.”

  He shook his head. “You’re our insurance, Proud One. They won’t risk a full-fledged attack as long as they fear hurting our prisoner.”

  Glory looked around at the bony horses, the thin, exhausted people. “Some of these can’t go much farther.”

  “We will keep moving as long as a single one of us can stand on his feet.” Two Arrows shrugged. “And pray that maybe the great god, Heammawihio will give his people another chance like he did me.”

  It was a doomed flight, they were all going to die, she thought, whether from army bullets, cold, or starvation. At least, she had a rabbit to cook. Two Arrows was an excellent shot with a bow. Bullets were now too precious to waste on something as small as a rabbit. Glory made a soup and shared it around as far as it would go with Moccasin Woman, little Grasshopper, and Redbird. Two old ones and a warrior who had been wounded in the last skirmish with the army had died yesterday.

  At least, she had a good, snug camp up against this bluff out of the wind. “I saw you talking to the leaders earlier.”

  Two Arrows nodded, his face shadowed with concern. “I thought I saw soldiers in the distance this morning, but no one else did. Broken Blade convinced them that my eyes are playing tricks on me. Little Wolf and Dull Knife are disagreeing again. The group may split up and go two separate ways.”

  He hobbled his paint, and turned it out to graze in the buffalo grass along the shallow canyon. As darkness fell, he sat down before the fire watching her. “You look like a Cheyenne woman in that buckskin dress and braids. Be careful, Proud One. If the soldiers should see you, they might shoot you before they realized who you are.”

  “Soldiers don’t shoot women.”

  His lip curled with derision. “Sure they do; I’ve ridden with them for years, remember?”

  Glory didn’t know how to answer that. “I don’t intend to get killed; I’m a survivor; otherwise, I never would have ended up in Indian Territory.” She reached for her blanket, wrapped it around her, and settled down by the fire.

  Two Arrows stared into the flames. “I made a mistake, bringing you with me,” he said in a voice so low, she had to strain to hear him.

  She shrugged, playing with her beaded bracelet. “You needed a hostage, I guess, and I happened along.”

  “That’s what I said; what I told my people, but I spoke with a forked tongue, even to myself. I kept seeing you riding at night, your head up like a wild mustang filly running into the wind, your hair loose and b
lowing. I wanted you as I have never wanted a woman, not even my wife, Pretty Flower.”

  “So that’s why you tried to drag me off my horse?” She wrapped her arms around her knees, staring at him.

  “I didn’t try to drag you off your horse,” he protested. “I caught the filly’s bridle to keep her from rearing and throwing you.”

  “I’m sorry you got whipped, but I didn’t go to David begging for help. I’m too proud to beg anyone for anything.”

  “It’s a trait I like.”

  Glory shivered and scooted closer to the fire.

  “You’re cold; take my blanket.” He held it out to her.

  She shook her head. “Then you’ll freeze.” He was her captor, and yet, he had been tender and protective of her.

  “I’ve put you through a lot of misery, Glory; I’m sorry.”

  She was touched by his words, by the tender expression on his face. “No more misery than the Cheyenne are enduring.”

  “But you’re not one of us.”

  She didn’t answer, looking into his eyes. For an hour one afternoon, she had felt like one of the people because for a brief time, she had truly been a dog soldier’s woman. She would never forget the precious moments in his embrace. Without thinking, she reached out and put her hand on his muscular arm.

  He put his other hand on top of her hand. “I’ve given this a lot of thought, Glory. The next time the soldiers are within sight, I’m going to give you a white flag so they won’t shoot, send you away.”

  She blinked in surprise. “Mercy! After all these miles and all this time, you’d free me? Why?”

  He didn’t look at her. “You are much trouble. Besides, maybe then the lieutenant will go easier on me if he finally captures me.”

  “You lie! After all this, you’d send me back; what’s the real reason?”

  He looked at her a long moment, and she was not sure he would answer. “I took you because I lusted for you; I’ll return you because I love you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”