Blood Bond

by William W. Johnstone

  Bodine sighed and brought himself back to the present. “Slim Man came by the ranch last week. Took a chance doing it, too.”

  “Slim Man? Do I know him?”

  “I doubt it. He’s like Two Wolves in that he’s a half breed. Sometimes he stays on the reservation and sometimes he just wanders. Slim Man told me that he heard the Army is chomping at the bit for war with the Indians, especially the Sioux and the Cheyenne. He said the official attitude toward the upcoming hostilities was one of enthusiasm. He said that the Army had suffered enough humiliation at the hands of the Indians—without really being allowed to strike back in force—and this time it was to be a fight to the finish. They were really looking forward to it.”

  “Medicine Horse and his followers have been good to us, boy. There was that winter that I hurt my back, and had it not been for the game Medicine Horse supplied us, none of us would have made it.”

  “I know. I remember only too well.”

  “You was just a boy, but you did a man’s work all that winter.”

  “Carl did too, Pa.”

  “Not like you, Matt. You was in your eleventh year and you had to become a man. Far too young, boy.”

  Bodine laughed. “Then there was that time that grizzly raked your behind and you had to ride sidesaddle all the way home!”

  The father shared in the laugh. “I’ll damn sure never forget that, you can bet. I skinned that bear out and scraped the hide clean and gave it to Medicine Horse. He kept it for years.”

  The men rolled cigarettes and smoked in silence for a time.

  “You be careful riding out in the wilderness, boy. I think that Lone Dog is crazy.”

  “Yes, he is.” Bodine touched the three-stone necklace that was never removed from his neck. “But this frightens him. He doesn’t want any trouble with Medicine Horse. Don’t you worry. I’ll be careful, Pa.”

  * * *

  “Bo-dine is a fool!” Lone Dog spat the words at him. It was the second day out and Bodine had watched Rowdy’s ears as they came up, and he had felt the horse tense under him. He had been expecting Lone Dog to find him. Then Lone Dog and some twenty of his warriors had come out of the ravine in a screaming rush, to surround him.

  Bodine sat his horse and looked at Lone Dog. The Indian was painted for war and his horse’s mane had several scalps tied to it. One of them was very fresh.

  When Rowdy’s ears had peaked, Bodine had slipped the hammer thong from his right-hand Colt. He held the reins in his left hand. If it came down to it, Bodine felt he could kill three or four—or at least get lead in them—before they dropped him. But he did not think it would come to that.

  One could always hope.

  “Why does Lone Dog insult me so?”

  Lone Dog spat on the ground as the hate shone out of his dark eyes. “Bo-dine will not live long in his fine house once we have reclaimed the land that is ours. The silly charm around your neck will not protect you then.”

  “You will not reclaim the land, Lone Dog. All you will do is die on it.”

  Lone Dog went into a screaming rage, and Bodine knew then the man was crazy.

  “Stop your silly behavior!” Bodine told him in his own language.

  The braves with Lone Dog hissed and some drew back, not knowing what might happen next. Lone Dog had proclaimed himself a chief and one just did not speak to a chief in this manner. And the Cheyenne riding with Lone Dog resented the man’s referring to Medicine Horse’s amulet as a silly charm. Medicine Horse was powerful, and his medicine was not to be taken lightly.

  “You call me . . . silly!” Lone Dog screamed the words, spittle spraying from his mouth.

  “If you behave as a fool then you surely must be a fool.” Bodine’s words were calmly spoken. “Now listen to me. If you continue on the path of war, killing women and children, you only toss water on the fires of peace. And only with peace do any of you have a future.”

  “Bo-dine has had a vision through pain?” a Cheyenne asked.

  Bodine opened his shirt, showing them all the scars on his chest, the pain he had endured as he entered manhood, hooked to the medicine pole. “I have had many visions since becoming a human being. The pins could not be torn free from my flesh. The older man, who was wise in the ways of the spirits who ruled the earth, so decreed. I slept on the hilltop and held many conversations with the Wolf. Two Wolves was on the next hill and did the same as I. For five days and nights!”

  Even Lone Dog drew back at this. One day of the self-torture and visions was considered enough to enter a young man into full manhood and be considered a warrior. But five days and nights?

  Bodine took a small pouch from his pocket and opened it, showing them all the Wolf hair in the medicine bundle. “The Wolf gave this to me.”

  Actually, Bodine did not know how in the hell the wolf hair came to be in his medicine bundle. It was not there when he started his vision-quest, but it was there when he’d finished. But he did remember talking with a Great Gray Wolf. Thereafter Bodine did not question the unknown.

  “Bo-dine’s medicine is good.” Lone Dog verbally backed away. “Bo-dine is truly a human being. But because of what you are does not mean I must follow your words. I am a warrior and in my visions, I saw myself driving the whites from our lands. Each of us must pursue our own visions, Bodine.”

  Bodine did not question that, for that was truth, and one did not argue the truth. Bodine nodded his head in agreement.

  Bo-dine is Brother to the Wolf,” a young Cheyenne spoke up. “IIyi!” he cried, fear springing into his eyes as he pointed behind Bodine.

  Bodine did not turn his head or cut his eyes. He knew he had to play this hand out with his cards close to his vest. Whatever the warrior was looking at had touched his heart. Bodine hoped only that it wasn’t a grizzly about to slap him out of the saddle or a puma about to leap.

  The Sioux and Cheyenne warriors cried out and turned their horses, leaving Bodine in a cloud of dust. Only when they had gone did Bodine twist in the saddle and look behind him.

  A Gray Wolf stood on a hilltop, looking at Bodine.

  “Brother,” Bodine said.

  The Wolf snarled his agreement and then was gone in a distance-consuming lope that could carry him a hundred miles during a day.

  “My son,” Medicine Horse said, putting both hands on Bodine’s shoulders. “It has been so long. Now I have both my sons to share my lodge.”

  “It is good to see my father,” Bodine said. “I have thought of you much over the months.”

  Medicine Horse was still a tall and powerful and handsome man. But his smile slowly faded as he looked at his adopted son. “There is trouble on the land, son. Wo iv sto is has had a vision, and it was not a good one.

  Wo iv sto is, or He Who Mounts The Clouds, son of Alights On The Clouds, was a very important man in the tribe, and his words were always listened to closely.

  Medicine Horse forced a smile back on his face and took Bodine’s arm. “I must be getting old. I am forgetting my manners. Come. We will eat and you can rest and then we will talk.”

  Bodine ate the stew of buffalo and wild onions and Indian potatoes and then rested for a time in the lodge of his adopted father. He opened his eyes as the flap was pulled back.

  “Brother,” the brave said.

  “Brother.” Bodine greeted Two Wolves, as he sat up on the robe and smiled. He was shocked at Two Wolves’ appearance but managed to keep his expression bland. Two Wolves had lost weight and Bodine was sure he had been fasting, seeking a vision to give him direction.

  “You are rested?”

  “I feel fine.”

  “Come. We must talk.”

  As they walked through the large camp, Two Wolves said, “My father and I shared the same vision, Bodine. There can be no war. Medicine Horse has spoken. And he has ordered that I return to the white side of me. You know that my mother left me a large sum of money. My father has no use for money; what she left him, he has given to me. Medicine Horse has s
aid that when I leave this village, I should not wear the Indian clothing, but instead the clothing of the white man. He is my father, and I must obey. However reluctantly.”

  Bodine was glad, but he hid that joy, for he sensed that Two Wolves was filled with sorrow.

  “There is more, Bodine. My father has met with government representatives, and he has agreed to the reservation life. The tribe, his followers, will be settled—for the time being—at the Standing Rock Reservation in the Dakotas. Colonel Travers has suggested that you lead them there. Our father would be honored if you would accept.”

  “You know I will, Two Wolves. But with both happiness and sadness in my heart.”

  “I understand the feeling, Brother. My own heart is filled with the heaviness of pain. My father has also said that the others will fight, but it is a fight they cannot win.”

  “When do we leave?”

  “We shall begin packing in the morning. It will be a long trek. Without joy.”

  “But our father’s people will be alive, Two Wolves.”

  “In a manner of speaking.”

  Chapter 13

  The trek of Medicine Horse’s people was to begin in five days. They would follow the Yellowstone up about a hundred and fifty miles and then turn straight east into the Dakotas. When they came to the Cannonball, they would turn south until they reached the reservation. They had agreed that the Army could escort them, only if Bodine led the trek.

  Colonel Travers jumped at that, silencing Lieutenant Gerry with a hard look. Lieutenant Gerry would lead the Army patrol escorting the Cheyenne to their new home.

  And Bodine was not looking forward to several weeks on the trail with Gerry.

  All in all, it promised to be a very interesting trip.

  What made it even more interesting was that Lone Dog’s following had strengthened during this summer of discontent. His band now numbered close to three hundred braves, all well-armed and all cocked and primed for war. Lone Dog and his braves had been making life miserable for many and ending it for a few.

  And Lone Dog had made it clear that he considered Medicine Horse a coward for agreeing to a return to reservation life. Lone Dog just might try to attack the column before they got too far along the Yellowstone.

  Bodine approached Two Wolves with this theory.

  “He would be a fool to do so. The Cheyenne would eat him alive. What he will probably do, if he does anything at all, will be to wait until we return with the Army patrol and attack us then.”

  Bodine thought about that and agreed with his brother. “These are not green troops, Two Wolves; with the exception of Lieutenant Gerry. They will stand firm.”

  Two Wolves nodded and turned away. They were almost ready to go. The following dawn.

  * * *

  Medicine Horse stood in the spreading sunlight and looked back at the land the government had promised would be his forever and ever.

  “Forever and ever,” he muttered. “Strange that with the coming of the white man, how forever is such a short time.” He lifted his arms toward the rising sun and spread them as the sun touched his face. “My people shall look no more on this valley. I have spoken and it is so.” He turned to face Bodine. “It is time.” Medicine Horse walked to his pony and swung onto its back. He rode slowly to his position near the head of the long column and waited, Two Wolves at his side. Two Wolves had cut his long hair and wore jeans and boots and a leather jacket.

  Bodine stepped into the saddle and walked Rowdy past his adopted father and his blood brother, past a line of mounted soldiers. He paused at Lieutenant Gerry’s side. “All hail the conquering heroes, Lieutenant.” Bodine’s voice was filled with sarcasm, and it wasn’t lost on Lieutenant Gerry “And all that crap. We kill those who fight us and punish those who have been our friends. Let’s go!”

  For once, Gerry felt some of the emotion of the moment. “I didn’t ask for this assignment, Bodine. And I don’t like it. I am aware of the peacefulness of this band of Cheyenne. If it makes any difference to you, I think this is wrong.”

  Bodine nodded his understanding. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you, Lieutenant. We have a job to do, let’s do it.”

  Gerry turned to a sergeant. “Move them out, Sergeant.” A few minutes later, as the long column began to stretch out and settle into the march, Bodine said, “I have an uneasy feeling about this, Gerry. I think this is just the beginning of Medicine Horse and his people getting the short end of the stick handed them.”

  Surprisingly, Gerry said, “I agree with you, Bodine. I think this move to the Dakotas is only a temporary one. I think the government is deliberately separating the Cheyenne. It was my understanding that the permanent reservation for the Northern Cheyenne was to be in Montana, next to the Crow reservation. The borders of the Cheyenne reservation were to be the Tongue to the west and the Rosebud to the East.”

  “That was my understanding.”

  “And it could be that the government is trying to separate the Cheyenne for Medicine Horse’s own good. To keep his peaceful tribe away from the warring tribe. Have you thought about that?”

  “I have to keep that thought in my mind, Gerry. To keep from getting angrier than I am.”

  “I . . . sort of understand how you feel, Bodine. I think.”

  * * *

  The long trek of Medicine Horse and his people from Montana to the Dakotas was made without incident. On the day before they were to be met by the Indian agent at the northernmost tip of the reservation, Medicine Horse came to Bodine.

  “We shall say our goodbyes here, my son. You will not look again on my face.”

  “Medicine Horse, I . . .”

  “No! Hear my words. I have placed myself in disgrace to save my little band of Cheyenne. But that is fitting and just. That is the way of a chief. A chief must take both the glory and the humiliation when one or the other is deserved. What I say to you now, hold in your heart and your head and do not let the words leave your tongue. I am entrusting the fate of Two Wolves into your hands. Keep him safe and out of the valley of the Rosebuds. I have had a vision; a vision that will be shared by many chiefs over the coming months. You will learn of the vision when it is time, and not before. After the snow flies this winter, stay away from the river that runs through the Rosebuds.” He smiled at his adopted son. “You have been a good son. And I am glad in my heart that you have stopped falling down a lot.”

  Bodine laughed with the man, then sobered. “Do you know Custer, Medicine Horse?”

  “Yellow Hair? Yes. He is a great warrior. Why do you ask that at this time?”

  “I had a dream the other night, while we were camped beside the Cannonball. It was . . . disturbing.”

  “Tell me of this vision.”

  “It was June, father. The month of the Moon Of Making Fat. I’m sure of that. I saw many soldiers falling upside down into an Indian camp. Yellow Hair was among them. It was a great battle, my father. It was also the beginning of the end.”

  “For whom?”

  “For you.”

  Medicine Horse smiled and nodded. “We have shared the same vision, my son. That is good and that is bad. It is good that you are truly a human being. It is bad that you must continue the struggle within your heart. Just as your brother, Two Wolves, must always struggle. We have spoken for the last time, my son. This is goodbye. Remember my words.”

  Medicine Horse walked away into the night. He did not look back at Bodine.

  * * *

  “Heads up,” Lieutenant Gerry cautioned his troops just before they pulled out for the return trip. “Lone Dog is probably going to hit us. Bodine thinks it will be when we’re only a couple of days from the garrison. We’ll be thinking of a warm bed and hot food and a bath and won’t be worrying about an Indian attack. I agree with him. But between here and the fort, we’ve got several thousand other Sioux and Cheyenne to worry about. Not to mention Pawnee and Arapahoe. So ride alert, men.”

  * * *

  “Boring,” Li
eutenant Gerry said on the evening of the second day out. He stretched his legs out and relaxed after a long day in the saddle. “Just damn boring.”

  “Pray that it stays that way,” Two Wolves said. “My father’s power will no longer protect us from the renegades, Brother. Especially Lone Dog . . .” Two Wolves stopped speaking and held up a hand. “Silence. Someone comes.”

  The fire was quickly doused and the men took their positions around the camp. The troopers were armed with six-shooters and single-shot Springfield 1873 carbines. Most of the Indians, with Winchester or Henry repeating rifles, were better armed than the soldiers they fought. The Army just would not—for whatever reason, probably due to some lard-butted armchair general back in Washington—properly arm its men in the western field of operation.

  “Oh, please God, help me!” the female voice came out of the darkness.

  “Easy,” Bodine cautioned. “It could be a ruse to pull us out there. Just stay quiet for a minute.”

  “Please!” the voice pleaded. “I saw your fire and know you’re soldiers. I’ve been watching you since you camped. My name is Terri Kelly. The Sioux hit us yesterday morning, down on the Little Missouri. Killed my uncle and aunt and took several prisoners. I’m hungry and cold and scared. Please help me!” she screamed.

  “Stand up and walk toward the sound of my voice,” Bodine instructed. “If Indians are forcing you to do this, you’re going to be caught in a crossfire.”

  “If I never see another of those murdering savages again it will be fine with me,” the woman’s words were bitterly offered.

  Two Wolves stirred beside Bodine but said nothing. “All right, I see you,” Bodine called. “Come on.”

  “Sharp eyes, boys,” Gerry called.

  The woman stepped into the protected area of the soldiers’ camp. She wore a dress that was no more than rags. It was torn at the bodice and she held that torn strip with one hand, in an effort to cover her breasts. She was only partially successful.