The Buffalo's Last Stand

by Stephen Bly

  Bouchet stared off into the tall brown grass far to the south of the wagons. “If he joined up with others, he has a horse now.”

  “But why did he not have a horse when I saw him? A famous Arapaho warrior without a horse is a strange thing,” Two Bears puzzled.

  “Maybe he rode him down,” Retta suggested. “Or the horse lamed up.”

  “Only if Tall Owl was chased. Who would be chasing him? You see, it is a mystery.”

  Retta watched as Two Bears drew a small cross to the right of her large one. “What does this have to do with Ansley and Shy Bear?” she asked.

  The Indian then drew a third cross to the left of hers. “Maybe that band of Indians is after Tall Owl.”

  Bobcat rocked back on his heels. “Why? Why would Arapaho be chasin’ an Arapaho?”

  “Maybe there are other tribes in the area.” Two Bears drew a sun in the dirt about the three crosses. “Did they steal any horses last night?”

  “No, not a sign of them,” Bouchet reported. “But there are some wagons up ahead of us. I haven’t gotten a message from them yet.”

  “They didn’t come after me and my family either. It is curious. I am sure they know I am here.”

  Bobcat spoke. “Looks like we’ve got two girls to look for. Maybe we should join up.”

  Two Bears studied Bouchet and then Retta. “Yes, that would be good. We will join with you, provided Red Bear comes. She is part of my family.” He reached out for her hand.

  Retta immediately took his hand. It was strong and cal- lused, much like her father’s.

  Two Bears pointed to the three crosses on the hill etched in the wet dirt. “Now Red Bear will pray.”

  I can’t pray out loud. Only with Mama. Lerryn says my prayers are funny. “I ... I...” Retta cleared her throat. “Lord Jesus, it’s me—Retta ... eh, Coretta Emily Barre. This is my friend Two Bears. I guess You know that already. And this is Bobcat Bouchet. He probably has another name, but I don’t know what it is. And, Lord, he doesn’t mean any disrespect when he cusses at the oxen. He’s really nice on the inside once you get to know him, and don’t let the tobacco stains on his beard bother you.”

  “Heh hum.” Bobcat cleared his throat.

  “Lord, we have a problem. Ansley and Shy Bear aren’t exactly lost, but they are somewhere they don’t want to be. And we want them to be here. So if You’d keep them safe until we find them, we’d appreciate it, and if I need to do something to help You, well, I’ll do it. Especially for Shy Bear. I mean, I’ll do it for Ansley, too, but ... well, she’s the redheaded girl I talked to You about last week. So You can see my dilemma. Anyway, I’ll talk to You about that later.

  Bye, Lord ... eh, in Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Bobcat jammed his hat back on.

  Two Bears grinned and sprinted toward the tall grass to the south, packing the arrow.

  * * * * *

  The oxen were yoked, mules harnessed, horses saddled and standing ready by the time Retta pulled on her buckskin dress and moccasins and rejoined Colonel Graves and her father near the lead wagon. Within a matter of minutes, the bugle sounded, and the wagons were rolling west. As they did, a small band of riders trotted out to the yucca plant on the hill.

  To come along with Two Bears and his two sons, Retta chose Bobcat Bouchet, her father, her brother William, Mr. Weaver, and old Sven Neilsen, the best shot in the wagon train. Hugh MacGregor insisted on coming, too.

  MacGregor’s thick red beard brushed out from under his hat as he pointed at Two Bears. “How do we know this Indian is not leadin’ us into an ambush?”

  Retta puffed out her cheeks. “Because his daughter is missing, too.”

  “I wasn’t talking to you,” he growled. “It’s your fault my daughter’s lost—yours and this fool Indian’s. If you had stayed with the wagons where you belong and not gotten that savage’s dress, none of this would have happened.” Eugene Barre trotted his buckskin next to MacGregor, grabbed the headstall on his horse, and jerked it around. “Listen to me, MacGregor, and listen carefully. You have a missin’ daughter, and me and my boy and my girl are puttin’ our lives on the line to help find her. Don’t you ever use that tone of voice with my daughter again. I won’t tolerate it for a minute.”

  MacGregor rested his thumb on the big hammer of his rifle. “Are you threatenin’ me?”

  Mr. Barre shoved the barrel of his gun into MacGregor’s midsection. “You better believe I am.”

  Retta could feel her heart pound.

  “Look.” Two Bears called out. “We have company.” Retta let her breath out slowly as she studied the northern horizon. Several mounted men rode through the brush near the river. Lord, I... I almost got my papa into a shooting match with Mr. MacGregor. I didn’t cause Ansley to ride off and get into trouble ... did I?

  “I reckon those are the Arapaho,” Bobcat declared.

  “No,” Two Bears replied. “It is the Cheyenne.”

  “Cheyenne?” Retta gulped.

  “Now we have stirred up a hornet’s nest,” Bouchet mumbled. “If the Cheyenne are in on it, the Sioux can’t be far behind.”

  “It looks like they want to talk,” Two Bears observed. Even though the morning sun was behind her, Retta shaded her eyes and stared at the men on the horses. “How can you tell they want to talk?”

  Two Bears dismounted. “Because they are out in the open, and they didn’t charge at us or shoot at us.”

  Hugh MacGregor cocked the massive hammer back on his rifle. “Hidin’ in the trees ain’t exactly what I’d call bein’ out in the open.”

  Bouchet slid down out of his saddle, rifle in hand. “For the Cheyenne, it is.”

  “I say we shoot ’em all,” MacGregor growled.

  “What will that do for your daughter?” Sven Neilsen challenged.

  “Revenge.” MacGregor started to raise his rifle to his shoulder.

  Mr. Weaver reached over and held the gun down. “Revenge for what, Hugh? We don’t know where your daughter is. Or how she is. We don’t even know if these Indians have anything to do with her. Besides, Ansley could be back at the wagon train by now. Don’t be a fool and jeopardize all our lives.”

  Two Bears squatted down and stared across at the Cheyenne. “We must go halfway to them. There are three of them. There must be three of us,” he explained.

  “I reckon I’d better go,” Bouchet said, “since I know a little of the language. And Two Bears and one other.”

  “I’m going,” MacGregor snarled.

  “Not with a gun,” Bouchet objected.

  “If they harmed my daughter, I’ll kill them with my bare hands.”

  “No,” Two Bears insisted. “Red Bear must be the third.”

  “Who in blazes is Red Bear?” MacGregor fumed.

  “That’s me,” Retta declared.

  “This ain’t no matter for a little girl,” MacGregor growled.

  Retta bit her lip. “I’m almost thirteen.”

  “Why does my daughter have to go?” Mr. Barre asked.

  “If they see Red Bear with us, they will know we aren’t looking for a fight. Cheyenne do not trust anyone,” Two Bears explained.

  William pulled off his wire-framed spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “But what if the Cheyenne are lookin’ for a fight?”

  “Then they would be shooting at us now and have no reason to talk. They want something from us,” Bobcat said.

  “There’s only three of them,” MacGregor pointed out.

  “Only three that can be seen. They are not fools,” Two Bears informed him. “They would not reveal their position unless they had the strength to oppose us.”

  Retta slipped off her horse and brushed down her buckskin skirt.

  “Be careful, darlin’,” her father cautioned.

  “Papa, me, Two Bears, and Mr. Bouchet have already prayed and asked for the Lord’s hand to be with us today.”

  “Bobcat prayed?” Mr. Weaver exclaimed.

  “Ever’body prays, We
aver,” Bobcat snorted. He spat a wad of tobacco on the dirt by his boots and wiped his beard on the sleeve of his shirt.

  The three hiked across the prairie toward the Indians. Retta lagged behind. When they got about halfway, Two Bears squatted down and drew circles in the damp soil. Bobcat and Retta hunkered down next to him.

  The three Indians who came toward them were taller than Two Bears, broad-shouldered, and shirtless. Their straight black hair hung halfway to their waists. One had horrible ragged horizontal scars on his upper chest. All three wore buckskin leggings, loin cloths, moccasins, and beaded headbands with a single eagle feather drooping across their ears. One wore a gold cross on a braided horsehair string.

  They squatted down across from Two Bears and spoke so rapidly that Retta could not even tell when one word ended and another began. Two Bears answered them in the same language.

  She leaned over to Bobcat and whispered, “What did they say?”

  He rubbed his beard so that his hand shielded his mouth. “I think they asked who we are,” he whispered back.

  “What did Two Bears tell them?”

  Bobcat pulled off his hat and held it over his mouth. “He said me and him were scouts for the wagon train. Then he said you were his daughter.”

  “His daughter?”

  “You got dark hair and a dress of buckskin. You don’t wear a bonnet like the other girls, and your face is as tanned as a trapper’s. Havin’ his daughter along shows peaceful intent.”

  She cupped her hands over her mouth and whispered, “Why did he tell them he was a scout?”

  Bouchet’s voice dropped even lower. “I reckon he didn’t want to tell them he has a family hidin’ in the brush.”

  The Cheyenne with scars on his chest pulled a pansy- plum gingham garment from his belt.

  “That’s my bonnet,” Retta whispered. “I mean, the one I gave to Shy Bear.”

  “Don’t look surprised,” Bouchet warned. “Show no emotions.”

  “What?”

  Bobcat nodded at the Shoshone. “Be like Two Bears.”

  Retta studied Two Bears’ quiet face. He looked as if he were about to fall asleep. “What did they just say?”

  “They’re looking for Tall Owl, the Arapaho,” Bouchet replied.

  “Why?” Retta asked.

  Bouchet drew an arrow in the dirt with his finger. “He killed someone.” He paused to listen to the Arapaho. “My word, Missy, he done killed a Cheyenne medicine man.”

  Retta studied the darting brown eyes of the Cheyenne speaker. “You mean, they are after Tall Owl and not the wagon train?”

  “I reckon so.”

  “What about the bonnet? Where did they get it? Do they know where Shy Bear is?”

  Bouchet listened for several moments. “They found it near the river this mornin’, but our remuda muddied the trail. They followed Tall Owl here and lost him in the brush. He was on foot at first, but later they found horse tracks. They think Tall Owl now has two horses. They want to know who the bonnet belongs to.”

  “Two horses? You think he has the ones Ansley and Shy Bear were riding?”

  “That’s what I surmise,” Bobcat muttered. “Two Bears told them there are two girls missing from the wagon train, and we would not stop until we got them back.”

  “Is the bonnet torn?” Retta asked.

  Two Bears continued to talk to the Cheyenne, but he handed the bonnet back to her.

  She turned it over in her hand. “It isn’t muddy. It looks like it was merely dropped.”

  “Two Bears said the girl with the bonnet was very smart and probably left it for a trail to follow. He said to look for other signs.”

  “What kind of signs?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  Retta pulled the bonnet over her head.

  Bobcat Bouchet rubbed his whiskers. “They said Tall Owl is very mean and, well, I think they said unpredictable. Somethin’ about him bein’ like an animal that has gone mad.”

  Retta puffed out her cheeks. “That’s horrible. What will happen to Ansley and Shy Bear?”

  The three Cheyenne men looked at Retta and laughed. “Are they laughing at me?”

  “Yes. They say a hat like that looks silly on a Shoshone girl like you.”

  “But it was my bonnet.”

  “They’re convinced you belong to Two Bears.”

  “Will Tall Owl hurt Ansley and Shy Bear?” she asked.

  “The Cheyenne said that out here on his own, Tall Owl will probably use them to barter for supplies.”

  “What’re we going to do?”

  Bobcat pulled out his clay pipe and chewed on the stem. “Well, I’ll be...”

  “What is it?”

  “Your Indian said we should join forces with the Cheyenne and find the man and the girls together.”

  “Join forces with the Cheyenne?”

  “They’ll take one side of the river, and we’ll take the other. We’ll ride northwest until we flush out Tall Owl.”

  “What happens when we find him?”

  “We get the girls. They get him.”

  The Cheyenne stood. Two Bears nodded. He, Bouchet, and Retta stood as well.

  “How do we know we can trust them?” Retta whispered.

  “We don’t. Tough to know that. But you saw Tall Owl down by the river. Do you want to side with him?”

  Retta shivered.

  * * * * *

  The Cheyenne crossed the river that was a hundred yards wide and about a foot deep. They fanned out into the overgrowth.

  Two Bears and his sons dismounted and scouted the thickest part of the brush. Retta rode behind her father. “What are we looking for, Papa?”

  “Fresh horse prints.”

  “Won’t he ride right in the river?”

  “Probably, but sooner or later he’ll have to come to shore.”

  “Why? Can’t they go all day in the river?”

  “Perhaps, but we should be able to go faster on the shore. We’ll catch up.”

  Retta circled his waist with her hands. “Papa, is this all my fault? I mean, if I hadn’t traded for this buckskin dress, neither Ansley nor Shy Bear would be in trouble.”

  “Nonsense, darlin’, you didn’t do one thing wrong.”

  Hugh MacGregor rode up beside them. “I’ll shoot that Arapaho on sight if he has my girl.”

  “Don’t shoot until we make sure Ansley and Shy Bear are safe,” Retta urged.

  “Don’t shoot at all,” Bobcat cautioned. “The only way we’ll get these Cheyenne to ride off is to give them Tall Owl alive. If we help them, we won’t have any future trouble— from this one band, anyway.”

  Brush moved by the river, but Retta could only see Two Bears and his sons. “At least Tall Owl doesn’t have a gun. I didn’t see one. So he can’t shoot them.”

  MacGregor pulled off his grimy hat and wiped his forehead. “I’m sure Ansley kept her pistol hidden. She knows how to protect herself.”

  Retta glanced at Bouchet and back at Mr. MacGregor. “Ansley carries a gun?”

  “She’s packed a small two-shot pocket pistol for several years.”

  “I’ve never seen it,” Retta said.

  “See? I told you she knows how to keep it concealed.”

  “That means Tall Owl does have a gun,” Bobcat exclaimed.

  “Nonsense. She wouldn’t surrender it,” MacGregor insisted.

  “That’s the silliest statement I ever heard. You can bet Tall Owl has it.”

  “He would search a young girl? That’s—that’s barbaric.”

  “A man who’s being hunted by the Cheyenne will do whatever it takes to survive.” Bobcat spurred his horse toward the brush.

  “Where’re you going?” Retta called out.

  “To warn the others that Tall Owl may be carryin’ a gun.”

  “It’s merely a two-shot,” MacGregor yelled.

  “It only takes one well-placed bullet to kill any of us,” Bobcat hollered back.

  Chapter Five />
  For over an hour Retta strained her eyes to survey the brush, the river, and the empty prairie. Once in a while she could see the Cheyenne and always those on her side of the river, but never Ansley, Shy Bear, the Arapaho, or a scrap of pansy-plum gingham.

  Her mind kept drifting to repeated prayer.

  Lord, I’m really worried about Ansley. She isn’t very wise, and she needs You to protect her. And Shy Bear. They must be scared to death, and I’m wondering what’s going to happen to them. Please protect them, Lord. Protect us all. Oh, Jesus, I wish I knew what to do!

  A lone coyote yelp brought the search to a stop. Two Bears stared across the river at the Cheyenne. Several hand signals later, he hurried back to Retta and the others.

  “They saw horses ahead in the brush on our side.”

  “Then what’re we waiting for?” MacGregor demanded.

  “We gotta find out the condition of the girls first,” Bobcat cautioned. “If he’s holdin’ a knife to their throats, we surely don’t want to set him off. We know he has a knife.”

  “So what do we do?” MacGregor asked. “Ride straight up and ask him?”

  “I reckon so,” Bobcat replied.

  “What do you mean?” Retta’s father asked.

  “Neilsen and Weaver, go around to the north,” Bouchet ordered. “Eugene and his boy should stay to guard the south. Me, Two Bears, MacGregor, and Missy will ride right up to them.”

  “Why does Retta need to go with you this time?” Mr. Barre demanded.

  “Same reason. Because she’s merely out looking for her friends. We don’t want to look like we’re expecting trouble. We’re just searchin’ for two lost girls. We’ll offer to make a trade.”

  “I won’t trade with the savage,” MacGregor snarled.

  “I will,” Two Bears stated as he remounted his horse. “I love my daughter.”

  MacGregor’s wild eyes darted from man to man. “I love my daughter, too. It’s just...”

  “You love your things more?” Two Bears challenged.

  “Of course not. But it’s not right to let that savage charge us for our own girls.”

  “Even if we trade, he won’t get far, will he?” Mr. Barre put in.