He rode his mule right up the side of the knoll and stopped just before he reached the top. Then slowly one step at a time he urged Red forward ‘til he could see over the top. He studied the land back towards Smith’s Fork for any sign of the Arapahos or movement of any kind but the only movement was of a hawk soaring low over the tree tops.
He headed back towards Smith’s Fork figuring on reaching the stream two or three miles below where the Arapahos had ambushed him just a few hours ago. He covered the seven or eight miles in less than an hour then sent Jimbo to scout upstream. He was in the brush and trees growing along the stream as he slowly made his way back toward where he had been ambushed.
When he was only a mile or so downstream from where he had first met the Arapaho, Jimbo came back to him. He was making his soft low growl from deep down in his chest and the hair down the middle of his back was raised. Zach knew his leg was not in good enough shape to get any closer on foot and he knew he couldn’t get close riding Ol’ Red without being seen. For now, all he could do was wait.
They stayed under cover on the eastern edge of the tree line and waited. It was now late in the day and he wondered if they would start back with their dead to their main camp this late in the day or wait ‘til morning. He found a downed tree he could use to step off Ol’ Red and did so. He knew the big mule had had a real workout today and getting his own weight off his back while they waited would help Ol’ Red relax and rest.
Zach watched Jimbo sitting there facing up stream, ears straight forward ever alert for any danger. He knew the big dog would know long before himself when danger was coming. As he waited he flexed his leg and would put varying amounts of weight on it. It was painful but the more he worked it the better it felt.
He could see many miles off to the east and there had been no sign the Arapaho had left the area. So he just waited ‘til the sun was setting and he was sure they were spending the night. He didn’t know just what he was going to do yet but he knew very well it would be much easier to get close to them in the dark of night.
As the sun set a wind started up coming from the south and he could smell hints of wood smoke coming from their fire. He had been walking in a circle keeping his leg limbered up, but he still couldn’t put all of his weight on it and that caused him to walk with a severe limp. He wanted to get close enough to cut their horses loose and leave them on foot but he didn’t think he could do that, not with the hole through his leg. He considered riding Ol’ Red right in amongst them but he figured they would have a guard all night so he wouldn’t be able to surprise them that way. As the last of the light faded from the sky and a deep darkness settled under the trees along Smith’s Fork, Zach was still considering just how he was going to stop four warriors from leaving this area.
He gave Jimbo a piece of jerky and ate one himself then wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and leaned up against a cottonwood to get a couple hours of rest. As he dozed off and on he could feel Jimbo setting right there by his side and he could hear Ol’ Red munching on the grass that was growing amongst the brush under the cottonwoods.
When Zach got back up he wasn’t sure how long he had slept. A cloud cover had moved over and he couldn’t see any stars at all making it a very dark night. He tested his leg and it had stiffened up and when he put his weight on it the pain shot all through his body. He knew then any thoughts of him cutting the Arapaho’s horses loose were gone. However, there was nothing wrong with Jimbo and he could see in the dark much better than people. So he figured Jimbo could at least spook them some and maybe cause some damage that would slow them down.
Ol’ Red had moved about fifty yards off so he silently gave Jimbo a hand signal and he went right out and brought the mule up to Zach. Zach tightened the cinch and with extreme effort climbed up into the saddle. They slowly walked along the east side of the tree line south getting closer to the enemy with each step.
They were moving extremely slow, trying to avoid making any noise. Jimbo was leading the way but not getting more than a few yards out in front. They were moving south along the east side of the tree line staying away from the brush as much as possible. They had moved less than half a mile when Zach realized he would not be able to get close enough on the big mule without alerting them. Ol’ Red was making too much noise even walking as slowly as he was. He stopped and tried to standup in the stirrups but the pain in his leg was just too great, so in total frustration he turned around and followed Smith’s Fork North.
Zach kept Ol’ Red at just a walk for well over an hour then he came to the confluence of Smith’s Fork with Black’s Fork. Once there he figured he was six or eight miles from where the Arapaho were camped. With a circle of his hand over his head he sent Jimbo on a scout of the area. He then carefully slid off Ol’ Red, loosened the cinch but left the saddle on. He tucked his pistol under his belt and using his rifle as a crutch he made his way over to a cottonwood, leaned against it and slid to the ground.
Just a few minutes later Jimbo came back wagging his tail letting Zach know the area was clear. He gave the dog a piece of jerky and ate one himself, then dozed off for a few hours of much needed sleep.
12 Painted for War
Running Wolf and Buffalo Heart were nearly to the spot where Zach had turned off the main trail leading down Black’s Fork as it was getting light. They could now clearly see Ol’ Red’s tracks in the trail. As the tracks turned east they followed. They were only a mile or so west of where Zach had been ambushed when Running Wolf sighted the tiny trail of smoke. It was coming from the tree line that followed Smith’s Fork and was directly in front of them.
They turned south for about a mile staying well out of sight. Then back east till they hit Smith’s Fork. There they left their horses and continued on foot moving as silently as a soft breeze. They slowed as they got closer to the source of the smoke. Running Wolf went ahead alone, when he was close enough to see the camp was deserted he signaled Buffalo Heart to come forward.
They examined the tracks thoroughly and could plainly see there were four warriors moving around the camp. Buffalo Heart told Running Wolf, “Grizzly Killer must have found them, for there were six hunters not four.”
Running Wolf then found several drops of blood where it appeared they had loaded their horses. In the back of his mind he thought Buffalo Heart was right, Grizzly Killer had probably killed or wounded two of them thinking they had either captured or killed Red Hawk and Buffalo Heart.
The tracks leaving the camp headed south following Smith’s Fork. Running Wolf had Buffalo Heart go back and get the horses while he followed the tracks south on foot. He figured the camp had been abandoned no more than an hour ago. So he wanted to be very careful not to come up behind them too quickly.
Zach was awake before the first light of dawn had started to show along the eastern horizon. He was perfectly still as he always was after he had been asleep. He listened for the sounds of early morning that told him all was clear around him. There was a splash in the stream, a fish he figured or maybe a muskrat, then on a hill just to the north a lone wolf howled his mournful song to the coming dawn. Just a few minutes later the small song birds started waking up in the willows that were along the stream. In the high branches of the few cottonwoods that were where Smith’s Fork joins Black’s Fork, a couple of wood-peckers started their rapid tapping looking for bugs. He could hear the water of both streams as it made its way toward the much larger Seeds-Kee-Dee. He pictured in his mind where Black’s Fork joins the much larger river just before it crashes its way through the deep red walled gorge that cuts through the mountains to continue on its journey south.
He figured the Arapaho would start back to their main camp on the Seeds-Kee-Dee which he figured was around forty miles from here first thing this morning. If he was going to stop them it had to mighty soon. He didn’t start a fire, no sense warning them someone was in the area. He quickly ate another piece of jerky and threw one to Jimbo, then using a good stout cottonwood branch for
a crutch he hobbled over to Ol’ Red, cinched up the saddle and climbed on. His leg was stiff and sore. He sat there for much longer than usual hoping the throbbing would subside. Finally, he decided he was going to have to ignore the throbbing ache.
He didn’t know for sure which route the Arapaho would take back to their main camp. If it was him he would want to stay close to the water and he figured they would do the same. In the back of his mind he hoped Buffalo Heart and Red Hawk were safe but he knew none of them would be safe if the Arapaho launched an all-out search for himself. He figured that is exactly what would happen after losing two members of their hunting party.
Knowing he didn’t have much time, he got started right away. It was just getting light enough to see when he started back up the trail towards the Arapaho camp. He went no more than a quarter mile when he found what he was looking for. A tall narrow sapling right on the side of the trail. He tied a length of rawhide rope to it as high as he could reach from the back of Ol’ Red then he pulled the sapling over across the trail. Fighting through the pain in his leg, he slid off his mule and tied the upper end of the sapling to a log right near the ground. Then set a trigger just like on a large snare. He climbed back in the saddle and rode Ol’ Red down to where he had camped and turned him loose to graze.
Staying off the trail he made his way back to where he had set his trap. He had Jimbo stay in a thicket on one side of the trail while he crossed over to the other. He cocked his pistol and carefully laid it on the ground in front of him. Then set his powder horn beside it, got two lead balls from his possibles bag and cut two pieces of patch cloth, carefully wrapping the cloth around the lead balls he placed them on the ground where he could reload mighty fast.
He heard them coming long before he saw them and bought up his rifle to the ready and waited, still as a statue. When the first rider came around a tree into view, Zach’s first thought was what a magnificent looking fellow. He sat straight on his beautiful painted stallion. The top half of his face was painted black, he wore three eagle feathers tied to a braid that went down past the middle of his back. In his right hand he carried his bow and over his back a quiver full of arrows. Slid under the belt that held up his leggings and breach cloth was a vicious looking stone headed war club. Zach could see this was now a serious war party, no longer the hunting party that had started out.
As the other riders came into view he could see all four of them were painted for war. The last one was leading the two horses carrying their dead. Zach now knew for sure Jimbo had killed the one he had attacked just the seconds before he himself had been ambushed.
The leader stopped when he saw the sapling down across the trail. Zach could see his eyes moving back and forth covering every inch of the terrain around him. He waited and watched, thinking if it was a trap whoever set it would eventually make himself known. Zach was a very patient man; he had learned as a hunter at an early age. He knew he was well concealed and he had to outlast the weary warriors.
Several minutes passed and one of the other Arapahos said something only to be quieted immediately with a sharp look from the leader. He sat there studying every inch of the brush and trees around them for several more minutes then told the impatient one to his rear to go clear the trail. The warrior that came forward had his face painted with red and yellow and he had a disgusted look on his face as he passed the leader on a slow walk to the sapling. Just as he got past the leader he stepped down off his horse. The black faced leader took an arrow from his quiver and set in his bow. Zach knew his first shot must take out this dangerously alert warrior and hope he had time to reach his pistol for another quick shot.
He had confidence in Jimbo to take on the one in the rear but what he didn’t know was whether the sapling trap would do any real damage to the one approaching it. As the warrior approached the sapling, Zach readied himself. The warrior reached out and grabbed a branch of the sapling and the trigger released. All of the energy of the bent sapling released hitting the Arapaho directly in the face. He dropped his bow as he brought up both hands to his eyes.
At the same instant Zach fired, the .54 caliber ball hitting the lead warrior directly in the chest. Motion slowed for Zach, as he reached for the pistol he saw a look of surprise then disbelief on the warrior’s face as he slowly slid off the side on his stallion. He saw only a grey streak take the last warrior off his horse and as he fired the pistol the awful sounds of Jimbo’s vicious attack came to him. He didn’t take the time to see the one he had just shot at fall but he knew his shot was on target.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and dropped to the ground just as the heavy stone head of a war club flew by just barely missing his head. The pain from his still healing ribs just about took his breath away but he had no time to deal with the pain. He rolled as he hit the ground and heard the dreadful scream of a war cry as the red and yellow faced warrior came charging through the brush at him. Zach reached for his tomahawk only to find it was not there, it had come out as he hit the ground and rolled. He had no time now the Indian was diving through the air with a knife in his hand. Zach kicked his feet up into the warrior’s belly and the warrior’s own momentum carried him over the top of Zach. He landed hard on his face several feet away.
Zach tried to push up to stand but as he planted his feet and tried, his wounded leg buckled under him shooting a white hot pain up the whole side of his body. He collapsed to the ground again just as he saw the enemy stand and come toward him with knife in hand. He reached for his knife only to find it was gone too. All he could come up with was a small stick, not big or strong enough to use as a weapon.
The Arapaho approached slowly, a smile forming on his face. Zach noticed one eye was red and swollen but that was the only damage he could see from the sapling springing up. Even though the eye was red and swollen on the surface, inside the dark eye he could see the fierce hatred and burning desire for revenge. He could see the determination in those eyes that told him this warrior would gladly die trying to take the life and scalp of Grizzly Killer back to his village.
The Arapaho didn’t know it but Zach could see something else as well. His faithful friend and companion, Jimbo was crouched ready to attack just a few feet behind the warrior. The enemy slowly moved his knife back and forth in front of himself in a taunting manor, then stopped as a smile grew on Zach’s face. This made the anger grow and he stepped forward again. Zach nodded his head and Jimbo attacked. It was over in just a couple of seconds. The enemy warrior heard Jimbo jump and was turning around as the two-hundred-pound dog hit him. The turn was just enough to expose the Indian’s throat. Jimbo’s powerful jaws clamped down on his neck and his forward momentum ripped out his throat and snapped his neck, killing him before he even hit the ground.
The Arapaho fell only inches from where Zach lay. Zach pushed himself away as the life-giving blood drained from the body forming a large pool under the warrior’s head and shoulders. Zach reloaded his Hawken and pistol and he could feel his body start to relax as the adrenalin that was surging through him started to fade away.
Running Wolf and Buffalo Heart faintly heard the two shots. They were still more than a mile behind the Arapaho warriors. Running Wolf quickly checked, making sure he had powder in the pan, he snapped the frizzen in place and kicked his chestnut into a run. Buffalo Heart was right behind him with an arrow in his bow, he rode using only his legs as both hands were on the bow and arrow ready to shoot.
Jimbo came up to Zach knowing he was hurt, he licked his master’s hand wanting to help. Zach put his arm around the big dog and looking into his eye’s said, “Well boy, you sure saved my bacon this time.” Then using his rifle as a crutch he got back up on his feet. He hobbled over and picked up his knife and tomahawk sliding them both back under his wide rawhide belt.
He wasn’t sure whether he felt the pounding hooves through the ground or heard them first, but he knew more riders were coming mighty fast. With a silent hand signal, he sent Jimbo to the other
side of the trail again as he leaned against a tree with his rifle leveled. The Arapaho’s horses hadn’t gone far and were in plain sight, but Zach knew there was nothing he could do about them.
Only a few seconds had passed when his sharp eyes caught the first movement of the running horses coming right at him. He couldn’t tell how many there were and the thought of Shining Star ready to give birth to his first child flashed through his mind. He was determined to survive; he would live to see his child born. He readied himself to fire as the first warrior rounded a bend to the trail. It was nearly too late to stop as he recognized the chestnut then Running Wolf on her back.
As Running Wolf rounded the bend and seen the Arapaho’s horses he slid his chestnut to an instant stop, jumped off and ran for cover. Buffalo Heart was right behind him and likewise jumped for cover. Zach, was surprised and relieved all at the same time seeing Buffalo Heart, then still leaning against the tree for support yelled, “You two are a little late, ain’t ya?” In hearing the friendly tone in his master’s voice Jimbo came from his cover and ran right to Running Wolf and Buffalo heart.
Hearing Zach’s voice the two of them stepped out and greeted Jimbo with smiles, rubbing his ears. They were greatly relieved that Grizzly Killer was alive and apparently alright.
Zach could feel a warm wet feeling in his moccasin and knew his leg had started to bleed again. Using his rifle for a crutch he stepped away from the tree, but putting any weight on the injured leg shot and excruciating pain up the whole side of his body.
Running Wolf looked up just as Zach faltered and leaned back into the tree and slowly slid to the ground. He rushed forward seeing the cut off legging of Grizzly Killer’s left leg. He could see the blood-soaked strip of legging that Zach had used for a bandage and the look of pain in his eyes. Running Wolf knelt by his brother in law and asked, “How bad are you hurt, Grizzly Killer?”
Grizzly Killer: The Medicine Wheel Page 10
