Oushata Massacre

by Robert Vaughan

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” Marcus said. “But I swear to you, I said nothing to Missouri Joe last night that would give him cause to leave the post. And I certainly gave him no military information.”

  “I believe you, Marcus,” Forsyth said. He sighed, then smiled wanly. “But when we accepted our commissions, we weren’t guaranteed fair treatment for our entire careers. Things like this happen.”

  “Captain, what exactly does a two-week suspension mean?”

  “Just what it says,” Forsyth answered. “For two weeks you won’t be allowed to perform any of your regular duties.”

  “How about irregular duties?” Marcus asked. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I would like to go find Missouri Joe and bring him back.”

  Forsyth scratched his head for a moment as he studied Marcus.

  “That could be dangerous,” he warned. “I’m aware of that, sir. But it will be worth the danger if it will relieve Colonel Pettibone of his suspicions. And it might get you and me out of hot water.”

  “If it doesn’t work, and the colonel finds out about it, it could get us in even deeper,” Forsyth said. “And if I let you go, I don’t know how to keep him from finding out.”

  “I have an idea of how I might do it. As you recall, I reported for duty directly from the academy. I still have thirty days’ graduation leave coming. Is there anything that says I can’t take fifteen days of leave during my suspension of duty?”

  Captain Forsyth smiled. “Nothing that I know of,” he said. “Put in for the leave, and I’ll sign the papers. But, Marcus,” he added. “Yes, sir?”

  “If you are serious about doing this . . . about going out to look for Missouri Joe, don’t go in uniform. A single hunter, prospector, or traveler can sometimes move around without raising too much fuss. But a soldier in uniform is just asking for trouble.” “I’ll be the most unmilitary person you ever saw,” Marcus said.

  Captain Forsyth smiled broadly. “That’s going to be hard for you to do. You’ve been in the Army less than a year, but I already have the feeling that if you were cut, you would bleed army blue.”

  Marcus pulled his parka about him more tightly and, standing in the stirrups of his saddle, looked down on the other side of the hill his horse had just climbed. He had been out for eight days, and last night was the first storm of winter. It was a very heavy snow and the world before him was harsh white and stark black, covered with the newly fallen snow. About a mile and a half away he saw a small encampment, consisting of two tepees and a campfire.

  Marcus did not happen upon the encampment by accident. He had smelled the woodsmoke when he awoke earlier this morning, and he merely followed his nose to this point.

  “Well, horse, I do believe that is them,” Marcus said. “One of the tepees, anyway, looks like the one Missouri Joe had pitched inside the fort.”

  Marcus had accustomed himself to the complete isolation of the wide-open spaces by talking to his horse, just to hear the sound of a human voice . . . even his own. He leaned over and patted his horse on the neck.

  “I hope Missouri Joe is as friendly to me out here as he was inside.”

  Marcus started riding toward the little camp. He could see a woman working around the fire, and from the size of her, knew that it was Moon Cow Woman. A moment later he saw Missouri Joe, then, to his surprise, another woman. There hadn’t been a second woman with them when they were in camp.

  He knew they had seen him by now, for his approach was as visible as black ink on white paper. His horse left a trail in the snow behind him; a long, dark scar on the face of the white hill. The second woman went back into one of the tepees and didn’t come back out.

  “Hello, the camp,” he called when he was within hailing distance.

  “Lieutenant Cavanaugh? Do that be you?” Missouri Joe called back.

  “Yes, it’s me,” Marcus replied.

  “What are you doin’ out here?” Missouri Joe asked. “And why is it you ain’t in your soldier suit? You ain’t left the Army, have you?” “No,” Marcus said. He swung down from the horse and handed over a packet of coffee beans. “I’ll trade you some of this for some you already made,” he offered.

  “Sure,” Missouri Joe said. “Moon Cow Woman, pour the boy a cup of coffee.”

  “Pretty man like coffee Moon Cow Woman,” she said, smiling broadly. That was the first time Marcus had ever heard her speak in anything except her own guttural tongue.

  “I didn’t know she could speak English,” he said.

  “It’s just a trick Indians use sometimes,” Missouri Joe said. “If the soldiers don’t know she can speak our lingo, they sometimes say things that’s helpful.”

  “Like what?” Marcus asked sharply. Could it be that the colonel was right? Had they overheard some information, and were they taking it to Two Eagles?

  “Don’t get your dander up,” Missouri Joe said, laughing. “It ain’t like we’re listenin’ for a chance to do any spyin’ or anythin’. What are you doin’ out here, anyway?”

  “I’ve come to take you back with me.” “Take me back? Look here, boy, you plan-nin’ on arrestin’ me for somethin’? ’Cause if you are, I wouldn’t take too kindly to that. Most ’specially since I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

  “No, nothing like that,” Marcus said. “I want to take you back to save my career. And Captain Forsyth’s.” Marcus went on to explain Pettibone’s reaction when he learned that Missouri Joe had left.

  Missouri Joe listened to it all, then he laughed. “Boy, iffen you ask me, you’d be better off gettin’ plumb on out of the Army. Any outfit that would let a crazy man like Pettibone be its head man ain’t worth hangin’ around.”

  “I have no intention of leaving the Army,” Marcus said.

  “I see. And what if I tell you I don’t want to go back? What will you do, then?”

  “I’ll take you back.”

  “How?”

  “I’m not exactly sure yet,” Marcus said. “But I’ll find a way.”

  Missouri Joe laughed again. “You know, son, I believe you would at that,” he said. “All right, I’ll go back with you. Fact is, I’ll do better’n that. I’ll give you somethin’ to take back with you.”

  “What’s that?” Marcus asked.

  “Two Eagles has gathered all his warriors together into one big village. They’re callin’ it Oushata. Sasha told us about it, and where it is.”

  “That’s Moon Cow Woman’s little sister. She’s the one you seen when you was ridin’ into camp. She was married to Dog Runner. She slipped into the Fort last night. We figured Pettibone wouldn’t take to her none too kind, ’specially since she’d been livin’ with Two Eagles’s band. So we figured the best thing to do would be to get her to some place safe. That’s why we left. We was plannin’ on comin’ back, once we got Sasha settled.”

  “And this Sasha . . . Dog Runner’s widow . . . knows where Two Eagles’s camp is?”

  “Yep.” Missouri Joe stared at Cavanaugh for a minute.

  “Can you get me into it?”

  “I knew that was coming,” Missouri Joe said, shaking his head. “That’s a fool notion, son.” “I need to see it, Joe.”

  “You don’t have to see it, boy. I can tell you exactly where it is.”

  “The colonel will not believe me unless I observe it with my own eyes.”

  Missouri Joe spit and stroked his beard. “Boy, you’re askin’ a hell of a lot,” he said.

  “I know,” Marcus replied.

  “Pretty man know Two Eagles want kill him?” Moon Cow Woman asked.

  “Yes,” Marcus said. “I know.

  “Pretty man very brave,” Moon Cow Woman said. “My man take you.”

  “Wait a minute, now. Just hold on there, Moon Cow Woman,” Missouri Joe said.

  “You take him,” Moon Cow Woman said again, and her voice was so resolute that even Marcus could tell that she didn’t plan to argue about it.

  “All right, all right, I’ll
take him. But if we get caught and I get hung out over some fire, I don’t expect to see you throwin’ any wood into the flames.”

  “I will cry much,” Moon Cow Woman said.

  “Oh, yeah, that will make me feel real good,” Missouri Joe teased, and Marcus smiled because he knew the issue was settled now, and he would be able to count on Missouri Joe.

  Sasha came out of the other tepee then. She was thin and young, with large, doelike eyes and clear, olive skin. She looked at Marcus with undisguised curiosity. He was surprised because even beneath all the winter clothes she was wearing, he could see that she was a very pretty woman. Sasha said something in her own language but it didn’t seem to have the same, guttural quality it had when Moon Cow Woman spoke it. Instead it had a lilting, almost musical quality.

  “She wants to know if you are the one who killed her man,” Missouri Joe said. Missouri Joe looked at the pretty young Indian woman and even to Marcus’s untrained ear, he knew that he was telling her yes. She just continued to stare at him.

  “Missouri Joe, you told me Dog Runner was your wife’s cousin. You didn’t tell me her sister was married to him.”

  “Well, he was her cousin,” Missouri Joe said. “But Indians ain’t that particular about it. You don’t get no brothers marryin’ sisters or nothin’ like that. But cousins is fair game. And I didn’t tell you he was married to my wife’s sister ’cause I figured you done felt bad enough already ’bout killin’ him.”

  “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  Sasha said something again, and again her voice had a lilting, musical quality to it . . . like the sound of wind bells.

  “What did she say?”

  “She thanked you for killing Dog Runner and setting her free.”

  “What am I supposed to say?” Marcus asked. “I can hardly say ‘you’re welcome’ to something like that.”

  Sasha spoke again, except this time, before Marcus could even ask what she had said, Moon Cow Woman spoke out harshly to the young woman. The two exchanged brief, angry words while Missouri Joe laughed. Sasha turned to go back into her tepee.

  “What is it?” Marcus asked. “What was that all about?”

  “Sasha offered to sleep with you tonight,” Missouri Joe said. “She said she has no man and you have no woman. It is cold, and you could keep each other warm.”

  “Oh, no, I’d . .

  Missouri Joe laughed again and held up his hand. “Don’t worry none about it,” he said, interrupting Marcus’s protestations. “Moon Cow Woman done took care of it for you. She said you was her pretty man and if you didn’t share her robes, you sure as hell wasn’t going to share the robes with Sasha.”

  “Missouri Joe, doesn’t this kind of talk bother, you?” Marcus asked.

  “Why?” Missouri Joe replied. “You mean am I jealous ’cause Moon Cow Woman wants to roll around in the furs with you?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “Why the hell should I be?” Missouri Joe asked. “Look at her. You ever seen anyone that ugly?”

  “Well, I . . .”

  “Come on, tell me the truth now. You ever seen anyone any uglier than Moon Cow Woman?”

  “I admit that she’s not what I would call a very pretty woman,” Marcus said as diplomatically as possible.

  “No, she ain’t. She’s ugly as a wart hog. So, do you think I really believe you’d ever sleep with her?”

  “Not willingly,” Marcus agreed.

  “Hell, no; not you nor anybody else I ever met. And iffen someone was to come along who actually would sleep with her, you don’t reckon he’d really try and take her away from me, do you?”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Marcus said.

  “Well, then, that’s it, Lieutenant. Moon Cow Woman can have all the cravin’ she wants. She can see pretty men day in and day out as far as I’m concerned. I got me no worries. Ain’t nobody wants Moon Cow Woman but me.” “Missouri Joe, you are a most unusual man,” Marcus said.

  “Ain’t I, though? Now, what say we get inside out of the cold, while the women fix us up somethin’ to eat? Iffen we’re gonna sneak into Oushata tonight, we got some plans need to be made.”

  9

  “Here,” Missouri Joe said, handing a buffalo robe to Marcus. “This’ll keep you warmer than anything you got to wear, and besides that, it won’t stand out like that white man’s coat you got on.”

  Marcus wrapped himself in the robe, then smiled at Missouri Joe. The scout was right, it was warmer.

  “Iffen the soldiers had any sense they’d throw away them cloth coats the Army gives ’em an’ make coats out of buffalo hide,” Missouri Joe went on.

  “Maybe I’ll write a letter suggesting that the Army adopt buffalo coats,” Marcus said.

  Missouri Joe grunted. “Yeah, well, that all depends on whether you live through this little adventure we’re takin’ tonight,” he said. “Now, when we get started, you follow me, you do ever’thin’ I tell you to do, an’ you don’t say nothin’.”

  “Don’t worry, I will. All I want to do is see that village for myself.”

  “Yeah, well I’d like to see it from outside. I don’t particular want to stand tied up to a pole in the inner circle, lookin’ out on the village through a bonfire, if you know what I mean.” “Yes, I think I know what you mean,” Marcus said. Moon Cow Woman came up to Marcus then, and to his surprise began sniffing around on him like a dog. “What is she doing?”

  “Pretty man smell too pretty,” Moon Cow Woman said.

  “What?” Missouri Joe said. He walked over to Marcus and took a couple of whiffs himself. “Damn me if she ain’t right,” he said. “Boy, you smell like soap an’ shavin’ cream an’ hair tonic. We got to do somethin’ about that.” “What do you have in mind?”

  “Moon Cow Woman, take care of him,” Missouri Joe said.

  Moon Cow Woman said something in her own language, and Missouri Joe interpreted. “Take offen your shirt,” he said. “Iffen you got long-handles on underneath, strip it off, too, so’s you’re down to the bare skin.”

  “What are you going to do?” Marcus asked as he did what Missouri Joe told him.

  “We’re gonna cover your body with burned wood ash,” Missouri Joe said. “That’ll make you smell like smoke. You see, bein’ as smoke’s a natural scent, it don’t spook Indians or animals. It’ll cover you up real good.”

  Moon Cow Woman and Sasha rubbed Marcus’s body down with ash, then added some grease of their own.

  “Little buffalo grease will help,” Missouri Joe explained. Missouri Joe took a bottle of whiskey from one of his packs, pulled the cork, then took several long swallows before he recorked it and returned the bottle without offering a drink to Marcus.

  When she finished with him, Moon Cow Woman smiled at Marcus. “Now, pretty man no smell pretty,” she said.

  Missouri Joe took another whiff, then turned his head. “Whew,” he said. “Even I think you stink.”

  “They may never let me back onto the fort,” Marcus said, grimacing.

  “Well, come on, let’s go. If we get to movin’ now, we can be to the village after dark.” Marcus mounted his horse, and he and Missouri Joe rode away from the little camp. Though the snow wasn’t deep enough to cause the horses a great deal of difficulty, it was enough to cause them to be very deliberate with their footing, so the going was a little slower than normal. They plodded on across the cold terrain for the rest of the day, stopping only a few times to give the horses a rest.

  Finally, just after dark, Missouri Joe stopped and swung down.

  “Leave the horses here,” he said.

  “Are we near the camp?”

  “No more’n mile off in that direction,” Missouri Joe said, pointing to the north. “We’ll walk on down and take a look.”

  “What’s the best approach to avoid their guards?” Marcus asked.

  Missouri Joe grunted. “Guards? Boy, Indians don’t have guards.”

  “What do you mean? They have to have guards. Their villag
es would be wide open, otherwise.”

  “They are.”

  “But this is supposed to be a war camp.”

  “It is. But there won’t be no guards. Look, do your soldier boys like to stand guard in the middle of the night when its cold, when they’re tired, or when somethin’ else is goin’ on?”

  “Well, no, I wouldn’t say they like it.” “Then why do they do it?”

  “Because they are ordered to.”

  “Well, there you go,” Missouri Joe said. “You can order a soldier to do somethin’ and he will. But no Indian can order another Indian to do anythin’. An Indian does only what he wants to do, and none of ’em want to stand guard.”

  “That’s amazing,” Marcus said.

  “Don’t matter. Like as not half the camp will be up dancin’ and singin’, anyway. This bein’ a war camp composed of Indians from different villages, I reckon they’ll be goin’ way into the night, sharin’ tales of great deeds and the like. That means that even if they don’t have guards, they’ll be plenty of people awake, so we’ll have to be careful.”

  The village of Oushata was pitched on the banks of a small stream. Though the sky was heavily overcast and threatening more snow, the snow that had already fallen managed to hold what light there was so they could see better than under normal night conditions. Marcus didn’t even have to use his newly learned night-vision technique to see nearly two hundred tepees. It helped that in the exact center of the village was a large fire with several Indians dancing around it.

  “No doubt about it,” Missouri Joe said. “They’re gettin’ themselves worked up for somethin’ pretty big.”

  “Do you think we could get in close enough to find out what is going on?” Marcus asked.

  “Boy, you ain’t got much sense, but I’ll give it to you for guts,” Missouri Joe said. “Come on, let’s see what we can do.”

  They walked for a mile over the hard ground, the only sounds being the crunching of snow under their feet and their breath, which blew out like little steam clouds and drifted away. When they reached the south end of the village, several dogs came bounding toward them. Missouri Joe reached down into his satchel and took out a handful of bones. He scattered them on the snow, and the dogs went to the food.