by Vella Munn
"So they're offering up your life, and you're letting them. After what happened to you"—Wilfred looked pointedly at the scar on Jed's forehead—"I'd think you'd be looking for excuses to add to your collection of Indian scalps, not the other way around."
"I never took a scalp! Never!"
"Calm down, will you? You just ain't got no sense of humor."
That, Jed admitted, was something he couldn't argue with. He hadn't had to tell his friend what he'd agreed to do. If he'd wanted to keep from being asked a lot of hard questions, he'd have kept his mouth shut until he'd gotten back—if he got back. But he'd confided in Wilfred. Maybe he wanted Wilfred to talk him out of this insanity.
Only, he wouldn't listen to the argument, he acknowledged as Wilfred handed him a half empty jug of whiskey. He was leaving for the stronghold tomorrow because he didn't want to carry any more wounded boys off a battlefield.
And because he hadn't seen Luash for nearly two weeks.
* * *
"Soldier coming!"
Luash jumped up from where she and Whe-cha were smoking the fish the men had caught at the lake last night after breaking through a thick layer of ice. Ignoring disapproving glares from the women scrambling for cover with their children and from the men who'd already lifted their rifles to their shoulders, she hurried over sharp lava rocks and stared down at the approaching mounted army man. He carried a small white flag and wore a full cape which spread over his horse's flanks. Because he was bareheaded, she easily recognized him.
Jed Britton was coming her way, his horse stepping carefully over new-fallen snow already hardened into ice.
"What is this?" Cho-ocks insisted. "A trick. Kill him!"
Ha-kar-Jim pressed close to the shaman. Like Cho-ocks, the hot-tempered young brave was well armed. "His scalp will fly from my horse's tail," he boasted. "When the other army men see, they will shake in fear."
"No. There will be no killing today." Kientpoos, flanked by Cho-Cho, stepped in front of the two. "This is one man; there is nowhere for others to hide. My niece, stay with me."
"What?" Cho-ocks protested. "You would have a woman speak with the enemy?"
"Speak, maybe. Listen, yes," Kientpoos insisted. "She understands the white man's language far better than the rest of us. She will know if he uses words meant to confuse, lying words."
Uneasy, Luash moved a little closer to her uncle. Since fleeing to the lava beds, her skin had become dry and it was nearly impossible to keep her hair clean. On this windy, clear, and bitterly cold day, the long strands flew about her head and tried to wrap around her neck and face. She was acutely aware of her often repaired footwear and didn't know what Jed would think when he saw her wearing a blanket that had once belonged to the army.
When Jed swung off his horse and made his slow way up the trail she and the others had worn between the stronghold and Modoc Lake, hesitancy was replaced by anger so hot she forgot her frozen cheeks. He had forced her to spend the winter like some burrowing animal. He and the rest of his kind. Let the shaman kill him. Let Ha-kar-Jim finish the job a Sioux had begun years ago.
"What are you doing here?" Kientpoos demanded once Jed was close enough to hear. "Maybe you come to buy food? If you have, we have much to sell. Deer and rabbit, ducks and geese. Many fish, all gifts from the lake."
"Only because the army hasn't seen fit to cut you off from it." Jed's voice was calm and even. Still, his eyes had turned from gray to black, making her wonder how much emotion he'd knotted inside himself. "Also, if the ranchers are to be believed, you continue to steal cattle."
Kientpoos shrugged. Sitting, he indicated to Luash that he wanted her beside him. Jed seated himself on a rock opposite them. Cho-ocks, Cho-Cho, and Ha-kar-Jim remained standing nearby.
"We cannot help it if a few foolish strays wander too close." His comment was followed by loud laughter. Even Jed smiled.
"Maybe you and I will roast some beef and speak of peace," Jed said.
"No peace!" Cho-ocks interrupted. "This is our land! My magic will keep all Modocs safe."
Luash waited for Jed to tell the shaman he was wrong. Instead, he shifted his weight and looked slowly around him. His hands were folded on his lap. Because the cape fell nearly to his knees, she couldn't tell whether his fingers were relaxed or fisted. The wind caught the cape and blew it tightly around him, then released its grip. He looked so incredibly brave and alone that the hot anger she'd felt a minute before faded. He'd glanced at her as he was sitting down, but his gaze now held on Kientpoos. "You remember Alfred Meacham?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," Kientpoos acknowledged, his mouth a hard line. "When he became Indian superintendent, he said there could be no more shamen, that gambling was wrong. He would not meet with me when I asked him to. It is good that he is no longer here."
"He's coming back."
"Ah." A cold smile twisted Cho-ock's lips. "Maybe he would like to give me his scalp."
"I doubt that." Jed's look was grim. "He's been far away, talking to our great chief."
"President Grant. I know your chief's name. I am not as ignorant as you think."
Jed gave the shaman a quick nod. "President-Grant is very concerned about what's happening here. He doesn't want any more bloodshed."
"Maybe he should come to Modoc country."
"Maybe he should," Jed muttered. "But he doesn't have time. That's why he let Meacham and others talk him into trying a peace commission. Fighting isn't proving anything."
Ha-kar-Jim, who'd leaned over to sharpen his knife on a rock, straightened. "So Meacham wants to talk peace. I say it is because your president knows how powerful the Modocs are. He fears us, knows that even if there were more army men than there are birds in the sky, they would not be enough to beat us."
"You're wrong," Jed said, the words little more than a whisper. He turned so that he was now facing Ha-kar-Jim. "Fighting costs a great deal of money and folks aren't going to want any more men risking their lives. That's why they're looking to find a peaceful way to end these hostilities." His gaze returned to Kientpoos. "I've heard that you feel the same way. Is it the truth?"
"Ha!" Ha-kar-Jim jabbed his knife in Jed's direction, the gesture making Luash's heart lurch. From where she sat, there was no way she could stop the brave from attacking Jed. "Why should we surrender when we are wolves who hunt and kill at will? Are you part of this, the peace commission?"
"I don't know. That hasn't been decided. I'm here to tell you why there's been no more attacks on the stronghold."
Cho-ocks laughed. "There have been no attacks because the army men know my magic is powerful. Your soldiers are like newborn puppies with their eyes still closed. They stumble over rocks and bite themselves and each other."
That caused the standing Modocs to snicker. As they muttered among themselves, Luash kept her gaze on Jed. For no more than a heartbeat, he took his attention off Kientpoos and glanced her way. She couldn't tell what he was thinking or whether he was glad to see her; she barely had time to send him a silent message of admiration and warning.
"You are a brave man," Kientpoos said once the others had calmed down. "Either that, or you are so foolish you do not know your heart may stop beating before nightfall."
"Believe me, chief, I'm no fool. What I'm saying is, if you want out of here before you're forced out by more soldiers than you've ever seen, you have to listen to what Meacham and the others say. In fact, there's nothing General Canby and Colonel Gillem would like more than to have this matter resolved before Meacham gets his commission going."
"Matter resolved? What is this?"
"The end to war," Luash supplied. "Surrender. That is what you are saying, is it not, Lieutenant?"
Jed didn't move so much as a muscle, gave no sign of what he was thinking. "Yes."
For a long time no one spoke. She was terrified that Jed had so angered the shaman or one of the young braves, maybe even her uncle, that they would vent their anger by killing him. "What will happen to me?" Ha-kar-Ji
m asked. "Will I be allowed to join the others who speak with Meacham of peace?"
"You?" Jed said slowly. "I don't know. You're wanted for murder. You and several others, including your shaman."
"If I am not promised land and freedom, I will not leave this place," Ha-kar-Jim insisted with a glance in Kientpoos's direction. "My chief gave me shelter when our enemies sought vengeance. He will not abandon me."
Luash hated hearing Ha-kar-Jim say that. She hadn't been there when he, Cho-ocks, and the other braves returned from their raids on the settlers and didn't understand why Kientpoos had allowed them to stay here. When she'd asked him about it, he'd said the Modocs were one and had to remain together, that they could not live without their shaman, but since then, Ha-kar-Jim and Cho-ocks had protested every time Kientpoos spoke of a peaceful end to the conflict.
"Tell me about these peace talks," Kientpoos said, ignoring Ha-kar-Jim. "When they are over, will the Modocs be allowed to return to their land?"
Despite the sun glinting off the frozen snow that surrounded them, Jed's eyes darkened. "You know the answer to that. The settlers have the weight of the army and government behind them; things will never go back to what they used to be."
"Then—"
"Hear me out. There's another place. The president's been talking about sending your people to the coast. They'd set up a reservation—"
"No! This is our land, not the coast! This government of yours forced us to live with the Klamaths. There we felt like rabbits being hunted by wolves. I say it: we are done being rabbits!"
"You may not have a choice."
That one unarmed man could ever silence four Modocs struck Luash as impossible, and yet it happened. "No choice?" Kientpoos said finally. "You said you can make no promises for Ha-kar-Jim and those who followed him. What about me?" He pointed at Cho-Cho. "What about him? My friend walked beside me when I took my people off the reservation. What will the army do with us?"
Jed's mouth tightened. Despite her tangled emotions, Luash longed to put her arm around him. But he'd come here knowing what questions would be put to him—knowing he was risking his life. "I'm not going to lie to you, chief," Jed said. "And I don't think the peace commission would either. You will probably be sent to prison."
Prison. Luash forced herself to imagine Kientpoos sitting inside the stockade at Fort Klamath while the seasons played themselves out where he couldn't feel or smell or see them. She would rather plunge a knife in her uncle's heart—in her own heart—than allow that to happen.
"Prison." Kientpoos spat the word. "No."
"Would you rather be dead?"
"Maybe," her uncle said, as Luash had expected. Kientpoos stood. With a sharp nod of his head, he indicated he wanted Ha-kar-Jim and Cho-ocks to follow him. Cho-Cho started to join them, but Kientpoos ordered his lifelong friend to keep an eye on Jed.
Cho-Cho stepped toward Jed, then stopped, as if not sure whether Jed was a prisoner or a guest. Ignoring the curious and sometimes hostile gazes from the men, women, and children who had slipped close during the conversation and were still staring openly at Jed, she joined Cho-Cho. "He will not run," she told him.
Cho-Cho grunted, his scarred cheek not moving with the rest of his grimace, but said nothing. Instead, he indicated he wanted Jed to follow him. After a glance in her direction, Jed did so, his boots making a dull crunching sound. Several children giggled; a woman ordered them to be quiet. Her command was followed by even more giggles. Luash went with Cho-Cho and Jed, only a little surprised to realize that Cho-Cho was leading Jed to his cave. Cho-Cho climbed down the rock stairs, then held up his hand to help her descend. He didn't ask what she was doing here, only waited for Jed to join them. Although she'd often come to Cho-Cho's cave, today she tried to see it through Jed's eyes.
The small underground opening was narrow. At the back where Cho-Cho and his wife had placed their tule bed, it was utterly without light. They'd shifted rocks from the middle of the cave's floor to the sides, so their children had a flat place to play, although most of the children at the stronghold preferred to be outside whenever it wasn't storming. There was a fire pit near the entrance, unlit today because fuel was scarce and only used at night or for cooking.
Jed, his eyes constantly moving, stood with his arms by his side and took a deep breath. Luash imagined the feel of the cold, dry air entering his lungs. She wanted to scream at him that he and the rest of the army were responsible for making her people flee to this lifeless place. Then he looked at her with eyes that said he understood how much she missed the valleys and mountains, and once again she stopped hating him.
"Luash? Why are you here?" Cho-Cho asked.
She turned toward the handsome young warrior who, as a child, had torn his cheek while trying to climb onto a settler's wagon. "I know him," she said.
"Know?"
She nodded but didn't try to explain herself. Instead, she sat on the nearest rock and waited while Jed chose another for himself. He took several minutes to take in his surroundings, including a careful study of the figures and symbols Cho-Cho's oldest son had painted on the wall above his sleeping place. Finally, he turned his attention to her. She felt herself begin to shudder and wondered if it was because she didn't want him looking at her or if the days and nights of not knowing whether she'd ever see him again had been harder than she'd allowed herself to admit.
"You're looking well," he said, ignoring Cho-Cho.
"So are you."
He laughed at that, the sound soft and low. "I might not be before the day's over."
"No," she told him honestly. "You might not be. Why did you come here?"
"Why?" he repeated and she wondered if he was asking himself the question. "A lot of reasons. It's my job. And there's more to it than that."
"Is there?"
"Yes. I kept thinking about the first time I saw you. You and your spirit."
"What is this?" Cho-Cho interrupted. "You let him see you and Eagle together?"
She nodded but didn't take her eyes off Jed—Jed who looked so strong and brave and alive. "You have not gone back to fight the Sioux?" she asked.
"This war isn't over. Until it is, I can't leave."
"Why not? Does your president order you to stay here?"
"No, I want to stay. Is that what you want to hear? I'm not ready to leave."
She'd seen something hard and sudden in his eyes. "You are a brave man. Not many would have ridden into an enemy's camp."
"You did."
She could all but hear Cho-Cho's silent question and guessed that everything she and Jed said would be relayed to Kientpoos. She shrugged. "The army is too stupid to know when a Modoc is in their midst."
"And because you wanted to see how I was."
She'd sensed he was going to say that, and even though she didn't know what to do with his honest words, she was glad they could be like that with each other. "Kientpoos will never agree to being sent to the coast," she told him. "We do not know that land; it is not ours."
"You might not have any choice."
She was so weary of hearing that that she wanted to rip the words from Jed's throat. "What will you do if Ha-kar-Jim and the others refuse to let you leave?"
"Do? I won't have any choice." He held up his hands as proof that they were no defense against a Modoc rifle.
"Then why—"
"Why did I come, knowing the danger? I don't know, Luash. That's the hell of it. I don't know."
Chapter 10
They live in here.
The stone roof over Jed's head hung so low that he couldn't stand upright. Closer to the opening, the ceiling rose so steeply that neither he nor the man he knew as Scarface but Luash called Cho-Cho were in danger of tearing their scalps on the jagged projections. The air, cold and slightly stale, hung around him like a barely living thing, and the rock walls were a breeding ground for endless shadows.
He didn't understand how anyone could remain in here without becoming claustrophobic. True, the Mo
docs were accustomed to living in dark wickiups, but those were made from brush and twigs, tule and willow, not centuries-old lava. From infancy, the Indians looked up at a sky that went on forever, vast and free.
The army had forced them here. And yet if what he'd seen of the men, women, and children was any indication, they seemed to be thriving. It was obvious that they knew how to use every resource available to them, no matter how meager.
He had been in enemy camps before, including once as part of a peace party at a Sioux hunting camp. That time, too, he'd wondered whether he'd live out the day, but at least then there had been other soldiers with him, and everyone had sat out on the prairie with a warm breeze tickling their flesh.
Here it was terribly cold. He glanced at Scarface, who stood near the fire pit. The faintest whiff of smoke rose from the blackened coals, but although both Scarface and Luash wore several layers of clothing as protection against the winter, no attempt had been made to keep the fire going. When he saw the small pile of sage brush beside the pit, he understood why. What little fuel they'd found had to be carefully parceled out.
A doll lay close to his feet. Made from tule stalks tied with twine at the neck, waist, arms, and legs, the figure wore a scarf of faded calico. He'd sensed and heard several Modoc children watching him while he was talking to the braves, but hadn't dared turn his attention to them. Now he all too easily imagined a little girl clutching that doll while her parents entertained her with stories about Modoc history—stories Luash had given him a glimpse of. How did that child's parents answer her questions about why she couldn't go to the river that had always been her home?
"Sqa'o Jane's mother made that for her when she wouldn't stop crying after the army burned her home," Luash said, her voice so void of emotion that it made more of an impact than if she'd screamed at him. "Sqa'o Jane. A girl who is half of the old way and half new."
He wished she was closer so the dark interior of the cave didn't hide so much of her features. This way, he kept being distracted by the endless weave and buckle of the cave's walls. The structure seemed to hang over and around him, taking him back thousands of years to when molten lava burst from deep within the earth to pour its hot energy over sage and manzanita. The walls and roof were silent; still, he imagined what it had sounded like when flame and gases screamed their way to freedom.
