by B. S. Dunn
The teepees were constructed with a four main pole frame work, with another dozen or more laid against these to complete the skeleton of the structure. All were lashed firmly into place before the hides were stretched over it and affixed.
They stopped outside a large teepee located near the centre of the encampment. A tall warrior stepped through the open flap and stared with contempt at the white prisoner. His skin was a deep bronze colour and his muscles rippled when he moved. His long, black hair was held off his face by a decorated headband and he wore deerskin leggings and a loin cloth. A necklace adorned with bear claws were testament to his bravery.
The Blackfoot brave who'd brought Laramie into camp spoke to this new warrior in a low voice. Laramie could not hear what was said but could guess that he was the subject of the conversation.
The Indian turned his attention back to Laramie and asked in heavily accented English, “Why are you in our land white man?”
“Your land? The last I heard the Blackfoot tribe were people of the plains.”
“It is not by choice we are here,” the Indian stated.
“Then it seems we have something in common.”
The warrior's dark eyes glittered, “You have nothing in common with Black Elk or my people.”
Laramie shrugged, “More than you think.”
Black Elk remained silent.
Laramie knew that he would only get one chance to be able to convince Black Elk that Laramie alive was better than him dead.
“I know that you seek the men who killed your brother and his woman.”
“How do you know this?” Black Elk hissed.
“Because I am after the same men,” Laramie explained.
Black Elk motioned the brave forward who'd brought the gunfighter into camp. The two conversed for a short moment before the Blackfoot chief addressed Laramie.
“You were with the men who wore the shiny badges. The ones who killed my warriors at the place where the wagons change horses.”
“Did he also tell you that my hands were tied?” Laramie asked.
Black Elk nodded, “Why?”
“I killed a man. He was no good and wanted to steal my horse.”
“If what you say is true, why should I believe you?” the chief asked sceptically.
“The men you seek killed my friend, the old man who lived alone in the valley of the Ksisk-staki, the beaver.”
Black Elk nodded to a couple of his braves and they turned and ran off.
“You speak our language,” observed the Blackfoot chief.
Laramie nodded, “I picked up a little in my travels.”
“Tell me more about these men you speak of and then I will decide what to do with you.”
Laramie noticed that Black Elk's hostility had waned some but the suspicion was still present. At least he was still alive, which was the main thing.
“They are lead by a man called Blackie Harbin. He is a wanted killer by the white man's law. There is a young one with him called Benny, he's mean even though he's a kid. Two others ride with him, a man called Cato and a Crow, he's called Lone Wolf. The others are dead.”
“Do you know where they have gone?” Black Elk asked expectantly.
Laramie nodded, “I think so.”
“Then you will tell me now,” the chief snapped.
The gunfighter shook his head, “No, but I will take you.”
Black Elk was annoyed with his answer and it showed. He stepped forward swiftly and took out a wickedly sharp knife from the sheath at his narrow waist. He placed the knife at Laramie's throat, “You will tell me white man or you will be made speak, the choice is yours.”
Laramie pushed it just a little further, “After I tell you, I go with you.”
“Why, because he killed your friend?”
“There is another reason,” the gunfighter confessed.
“What is it?” asked the chief as he withdrew the knife.
“There is a woman with the gang,” Laramie told Black Elk, “she was on the stage the gang stopped. I took her away from them but now they have her back. The last thing I told her was that I was goin' to come get her.”
He waited for the Indian to digest the information he'd been given.
Black Elk nodded, “Tell me where.”
Chapter 10
The Coltrains made camp that evening deep amongst a stand of firs, well off the trail so the flickering, orange flames of the small fire would not be visible.
Earlier, they had returned to the scene of the Blackfoot ambush and found nothing other than their dead comrades. They had discussed a burial but Jeb had refused. If the Blackfeet returned, he didn't want them to find freshly turned earth. There was no sign of Laramie and they'd spent a few cautious hours trying to pick up his trail, without success. With darkness upon them now, they did the only thing left to do and made camp for the night.
“What are we goin' to do now Uncle Jeb?” asked Shell Coltrain, who tossed a small stick onto the fire.
The Sheriff shrugged his shoulders, “Don't rightly know Shell. Davis could be anywhere in these mountains by now.”
“We keep looking,” asserted the Judge, “Come sun up tomorrow, we search for him until he is found.”
“Sure Zeb, why not,” the Sheriff agreed sarcastically, “We'll just keep traipsin' all over these mountains, just the three of us, with all them Indians tryin' to lift our hair, especially when we know just where to find him don't we?”
“What about the girl?” Shell interrupted.
“What about her?” questioned his uncle.
“Do you think he would go after her?”
“It's possible I guess,” the Sheriff conceded, “but she's gone off with Harbin and God alone knows where that is.”
“I know,” said Shell confidently, “I overheard them talkin' and they've a hideout over by Eagle falls.”
“Do you think you can find it?” asked his father.
Shell looked at the Judge and saw the renewed hope in his face, “Sure, at least I think I can.”
The Judge looked across the fire at his brother, “How far is it to Eagle falls?”
“A day and a bit in this country,” Jeb Coltrain confirmed.
“Have you been there before?”
“Yeah, but it's the first I've heard about some sort of hideout bein' over that way though.”
“It's there I tell you,” Shell insisted, “I heard 'em talkin'”
“Alright then,” said the Sheriff, “We'll do that.”
*
The outlaws sat about an old, scarred wooden table, piled with the stolen money from the stage.
“What are we goin' to do with the girl, Blackie?” Cato asked warily.
“I don't know, let me think about it for a day or so,” the outlaw leader answered as he counted out the cash.
“Do you think she's worth anythin'?” asked Benny.
Harbin shrugged, “Maybe, we can try I guess, but I want you boys to leave her alone for the time being.”
“Hell Blackie, can't we just have a little fun?” begged Benny.
“I said no. If any of you touch her,” Harbin paused and stared unflinchingly at Benny, “I'll damn well shoot you.”
Sally was in the only other room that the rough hewn log cabin possessed and had heard everything that the outlaws said. In a way she was relieved, for the moment. She wasn't sure what would happen after that. What would the outlaws do to her?
They had arrived at the cabin late in the afternoon, just before dark and she'd been locked away in the room ever since. It was small, dark and smelt like a skunk had died in it, but if it was where Blackie Harbin slept, she could understand why it had that peculiar odour.
Sally tried not to think of the bad things that could happen to her. She wanted to stay positive and focus on the one chance she knew she had. That one hope that had been taken away to be hanged for killing a man. The more Sally thought about her predicament, the more she thought she had no hope at all.
&
nbsp; Raucous laughter from the next room brought Sally back to the present. She looked at the door, old, gap ridden and grey with age. More laughter, this time much louder.
“I'll come after you,” Laramie's words echoed in her head.
Hopefully, he would come soon.
*
The following afternoon, Black Elk and Laramie sat on their horses, hidden from sight in a dense thicket of Spruce.
“Do you see the tall tree?” asked the Indian Chief as he pointed to a Cedar next to a large rock monolith.
Laramie nodded, “I see it.”
“Young Deer told me that an entrance lies beyond the rock beside it. There were many tracks going in and out. It seems you tell the truth.”
A flood of relief washed over Laramie at the news, “What do you want to do now?”
“We will wait for dark and then go into the canyon,” said Black Elk.
“And then what?”
“Then we wait.”
Two hours after the sun went down, Laramie, Black Elk and ten other warriors entered the box canyon. Laramie was apprehensive about the outcome, once the Indians attacked the cabin. He tried to get Black Elk to allow him to try to get Sally out before the attack but he would not hear of it.
“She will have to take her chances,” the Indian said coldly, “But if she dies, it will not be by the hand of one of my warriors.”
Laramie made up his mind that once the battle started, he would somehow get Sally to safety.
“I want a gun,” Laramie insisted.
Black Elk stared at the gunfighter in silence.
“I aim to get the woman when the battle starts, and to do that I need a gun,” Laramie explained.
“What about the man you have come to kill?”
“For me, the woman comes first.”
Black Elk nodded and signalled to a brave, “Take Coyote Man's rifle.”
The Indian gave Laramie his old Henry. It had seen better days, and the stock was pitted and scratched, but it was clean so he guessed it wouldn't blow up in his face when he fired it. He emptied the magazine and found that it was fully loaded. Then he thumbed the bullets back in and worked the lever to put one back in the breech.
The soon to be attackers surrounded the run down cabin. Horses were in a makeshift corral but the Indian braves were so skilled in what they did, not one stirred or nickered in alarm. Once in position, a chorus of night bird calls drifted through the canyon on the light mountain breeze.
“My warriors are ready,” Black Elk confirmed.
Now they had to wait.
*
“I need to go outside,” said Sally.
Blackie Harbin raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise, “What, again?”
“Yes, again.”
“Girl, you just don't stop do you,” Harbin grouched, “Damn it to hell. Cato take her out.”
“Aww, why me Blackie?” Cato complained.
“Because it's your turn, now take her out damn it,” Harbin ordered, “and keep an eye on her. These trips outside is becoming too frequent.”
Cato rose from where he sat with the others as they played poker to pass the time. It was probably a good thing that he was forced to take a break because he was on a hot losing streak and his pile of money had dwindled fast. If the queen high hand he now had was any indication, it wasn't going to get any better.
The outlaw opened the door and stepped aside to allow Sally to pass. Once through, Sally went around the side of the cabin and out back where there was a small patch of brush she could use for privacy. The cold made her shiver.
“Hurry it up,” Cato urged, “I got a game to get back to.”
Sally ignored him.
“Did you hear me?”
Sally rolled her eyes at the outlaw's impatience, “I hear you.”
Cato mumbled something under his breath that she couldn't make out.
With her business finished, Sally was about to step from behind the bush when a feint whisper behind her drew her attention, then a muscular arm snaked out of the darkness and a hand fastened over her mouth.
Her scream was immediately stifled as another arm wrapped around her body. A strong smell permeated her nostrils as she struggled against the vice like grip.
A heavily accented voice sounded close to her ear, “Don't fight, I help.”
It took a moment for Sally to realise what the speaker had said, and she struggled against the unbreakable grip a little longer.
The voice spoke again, “Don't fight, I help.”
Sally stilled herself and the voice said, “Come with me.”
*
“Are you finished yet or what?” Cato asked, his impatience evident.
There was no reply from the other side of the bush.
“Ma'am, are you finished?” This time his voice held a different tone. That of concern. Not for the woman, but for himself.
An internal conflict started to rage inside of Cato, “Ma'am, I asked if you were finished?”
No answer or movement. Cato couldn't wait any longer, he had to know. His pulse quickened and a bead of sweat formed on his brow. Cato stepped around the brush.
And found nothing. Sally was gone. Harbin was going to kill him for letting her get away. His gaze raked the enshrouding darkness in the hope that she would appear. Just walk out into the light and make it all better. Then he wouldn't have to tell Blackie.
“She's gone,” Cato said, his head hung low like a school boy about to be scolded by the teacher.
“She's what?” Blackie Harbin exploded.
“I'm sorry Blackie, she's gone,” Cato explained sheepishly, “one minute she was there and then the next she was gone.”
“God damn it!” Harbin cursed, as his face turned crimson, “One simple job. Take her outside and keep an eye on her. How hard can it be?”
“But I was watchin' her.”
“Yeah, sure,” came Harbin's sarcastic reply, “That's why you're in here and she's out there. Sometimes I wonder whether any of you men have a damn brain between you.”
Cato made for the door.
“Where are you goin'? Harbin asked.
“Out to look for her,” said Cato.
Blackie shook his head, “No, stay here. Lone Wolf you go.”
The Crow disappeared out the door.
“You better hope he finds her,” Harbin warned, “for your sake.”
A cold chill ran down Cato's spine.
*
“Laramie, you're here,” Sally's voice was a mixture of relief and happiness as she threw her arms around him.
“Did you ever doubt that I would come?” he said, embarrassed and tried to extricate himself from her embrace.
She let him go, aware of his unease, “I'm not sure what I expected.”
“Are all of the bad men still there?” Black Elk asked, as he abruptly interrupted the reunion.
Sally looked at the big Blackfoot chief and then back to Laramie, “It's okay, if it wasn't for Black Elk, you would still be with Harbin.”
“Yes,” Sally confirmed.
“Would it be possible to get her out of here before the fighting starts?” Laramie asked hopefully.
Black Elk thought for a moment and then nodded, “I will have Leaning Bear take her back to our camp. My woman will look after her.”
“I don't want to go,” Sally protested.
“You'll be safer there, they will take care of you,” Laramie reassured her, “after we are done here, I'll come and get you and take you to your father.”
“I'm not sure...”
“Just do it,” he said more forcefully, “I need to do this for Lonesome.”
“Okay,” she agreed reluctantly and turned to leave.
A short time later Sally was gone with her Blackfoot escort.
Laramie turned to Black Elk, “If anythin' happens to me can you...”
“Yes,” the Chief said deadpan, “I will make her my second wife.”
“What?'
“Whit
e man humour,” Black Elk explained, “she will be returned to her people.”
*
“Well, where is she?” Blackie Harbin asked Lone Wolf.
“I don't know.”
“Damn it Cato, I told you to keep an eye on her,” Harbin's temper rose and his hand drifted toward one of his pearl handled gun-butts.
“Wait,” said Lone Wolf, “before you decide you want to shoot someone, you need to know we are surrounded by Blackfeet.”
Cato turned pale, “Aww hell, we're dead.”
Harbin remained quiet, a hundred things flicked through his mind.
Benny on the other hand, smiled. He checked the loads in his new Remingtons and said almost gleefully, “Let's kill us some Indians.”
Blackie's eyes darted across to Benny, “Hold on kid, don't be in such a rush to die.”
“Who's goin' to die?” he said cockily, “I sure as hell ain't, I got too much livin' to do. Besides, I ain't famous yet.”
Blackie looked hard at Lone Wolf, “Are you sure we're totally surrounded?”
The Crow nodded.
“Are the horses still there?” Blackie asked hopefully.
“Yes.”
“What are we goin' to do?” asked an ashen faced Cato.
“Well the way I figure it,” said Harbin confidently, “is they have the girl. And they'll be expectin' us to come out lookin' for her.”
“Yeah, but we ain't goin' to do that right?” Cato asked hesitantly.
“That's exactly what we're goin to do,” the boss outlaw confirmed, “it wouldn't look right if we didn't.”
“They'll kill us if we go out there. Pick us off one by one,” Lone wolf stated the obvious.
Harbin ignored the comment and continued, “We'll get into the corral and take the horses on outta here. Don't worry about saddlin' 'em, just jump on 'em and light out. They won't be expectin' it and in all the confusion we'll be able to get away.”
