by Rory Black
‘You have tribe?’ Silent Wolf asked again.
‘I ain’t too sure, friend,’ Iron Eyes replied as he raised the canteen and felt the cooling water filtering down inside his body. ‘I’ve always been alone. Guess no tribe would have me for one of their own.’
The Cheyenne seemed interested and stood up.
‘You like being on own?’
‘Never had much choice.’ Iron Eyes offered the canteen to the wary youth and nodded when it was accepted. He watched as the Cheyenne drank and then returned the canteen.
‘You white man?’
Iron Eyes shrugged. ‘I ain’t too sure.’
There seemed to be no fear in the young Cheyenne as he began to edge around the curiosity he had discovered. Above all things, Silent Wolf could not help but be amazed at the height of Iron Eyes. It was like being in the presence of a giant.
‘You must be Indian,’ Silent Wolf said before reconsidering his words. ‘But no Indian tall like trees. What your name?’
‘They call me Iron Eyes,’ the bounty hunter answered.
‘I am called Silent Wolf. I great hunter.’
‘I’m a hunter too, Silent Wolf,’ Iron Eyes smiled.
‘The Great Spirit has brought two hunters together,’ Silent Wolf said as he pointed his gleaming knife at the moon.
‘Where are we, little hunter?’ Iron Eyes asked as he hung the canteen back on his saddle horn and stared out at the moonlit scenery.
‘This Cheyenne land,’ Silent Wolf replied.
Iron Eyes’ head turned and looked down at the handsome face.
‘The whole damn thing belongs to the Cheyenne?’
The brave nodded. ‘We have treaty.’
‘If they’re all as hospitable as you, I’ll be OK.’ Iron Eyes rubbed his aching head as he leaned on the saddle. ‘If not, I’m in a mighty bad pickle.’
‘Me no understand.’
‘It don’t matter none,’ Iron Eyes sighed.
Chapter Thirteen
Night had quickly found the valley where Major Thomas Roberts was encamped with his hundred troopers and the gold miners. Yet the hours of night were not to bring them any security due to the brilliant moon which had replaced the blazing sun. Roberts knew they required a black sky if they were to make a successful retreat from this dangerous place. The officer could still see the smoke rising from the forested hills against the hazy night sky, but now he could also make out the flames which were being fanned.
They were being warned to get off the reservation of the Southern Cheyenne and Major Roberts intended to heed that warning. There was no glory in fighting a foe when you knew, with every sinew of your being, that it was you who were in the wrong.
Roberts prayed that he still had time to get his caravan of miners, wagons and troopers out of the valley before sun-up. He also prayed that he had not left it too late.
A sound began to chill his entire company as they remained in their shallow ditches. It was a sound that had not filled the officer’s ears for many years, but it haunted his memory. It was the sound of distant drumming echoing around the dark hills of trees. It was impossible to tell where the drumming was coming from, but wherever it was originating, it seemed to be getting louder with every passing second.
‘Are we gonna be attacked by Indians, Major?’ one of the troopers asked Roberts as he walked slowly along the line of men in their foxholes.
‘Easy, son,’ Roberts’s calm voice soothed.
Bull Fergis rushed from his wagons up to the major and gasped as he spoke.
‘My boys have hitched up all the oxen to the wagons. We’re ready and able to skedaddle out of here when you’ve a mind to give the order.’
‘Good.’ Roberts patted the man on his solid shoulder as he walked through the long, moist grass to where Sergeant Walker was waiting. ‘Are the horses saddled and readied, John?’
‘Like you ordered, sir,’ Walker nodded.
Thomas Roberts removed his white gauntlets from his black belt and pulled them on to his hands.
‘Gentlemen, we have to do this properly if we are to escape with our hair. We must make a quiet evacuation of this place. It is obvious that we are being watched and the Cheyenne could strike at any time, but I think they will allow us to leave their land peacefully.’
‘I heard tell that Injuns don’t attack at night, Major,’ Bull Fergis said.
‘I’m afraid that is not exactly accurate, Mr. Fergis,’ Roberts informed the miner.
‘It ain’t?’
‘It ain’t!’Walker grunted.
‘I suggest you offload as much heavy tools and machinery as possible from your wagons,’ Roberts instructed Fergis.
‘But all our money is tied up in our equipment,’ Bull Fergis protested. ‘We can’t just dump it.’
‘It will slow you and us up, Mr. Fergis,’ Roberts said in a stern voice.
‘But it’s valuable,’ Fergis protested.
‘More valuable than your hair?’
‘My hair?’ Bull Fergis’s eyes widened as he looked into the face of the officer. It was a face with every last bit of humor drained from it. ‘What ya mean?’
‘I could be wrong about the mood of the Cheyenne. They might be just boiling over to have a fight with us, Mr. Fergis,’ Major Roberts sighed. ‘Oxen don’t run very fast at the best of times, let alone when they are pulling heavy wagons.’
‘What about the explosives?’ Bull Fergis swallowed hard as he suddenly began to realize that their escape from this lush valley was by no means a certainty.
‘Keep all your weaponry, liquor and explosives on your wagons, Mr. Fergis,’ Roberts advised. ‘We do not want them falling into the wrong hands, do we?’
It was a pale-faced Fergis who turned around towards his fellow miners.
‘We’d better strip some of the heavy equipment off the wagons, boys. We might have to make a run for it.’
Roberts leaned closer to his burly sergeant.
‘Get a dozen troopers and bring all our horses here. I do not wish to waste a single second when the miners have stripped some weight off their wagons.’
‘Right away, Major.’ Walker touched the brim of his hat. Then he ran along the line of troopers lying on their bellies and gathered enough men together to accomplish his orders.
Thomas Roberts knew that if the Cheyenne were to attack, they would not ride at his men offering themselves as target, but crawl through the long grass unseen and then strike.
For all Roberts knew, they were already doing just that.
Chapter Fourteen
The tall, ghost-like figure of Iron Eyes stepped to the very edge of the clearing and stared down at the vast, tree-covered scenery below him. He was suddenly nervous.
‘What wrong, Iron Eyes?’ Silent Wolf asked.
‘You smell smoke?’
‘Yes,’ Silent Wolf nodded as he sniffed the air. ‘Fire!’
Both men tried to work out where the burning scent was coming from as they moved around the lip of a sheer drop. Then the young Cheyenne pointed to their right. Even though it was still night, the moonlight showed the dark swirling clouds drifting on the still air.
‘There. See?’
‘Yep. I see it okay. Is it a forest fire, Silent Wolf?’ Iron Eyes asked his companion.
‘No. Smoke come from many signal fires.’
Iron Eyes looked perplexed. ‘I don’t get it.’
‘Smoke signals. Warning of intruders,’ the young Cheyenne added as he gestured with his hands, the way many plains tribes communicated to one another when unsure of the other’s dialect.
‘Maybe your people noticed me.’ The bounty hunter moved away from the sheer drop and studied his newly-found friend. It was something he found awkward as he had never felt the emotion of friendship before. ‘Maybe I got them all riled up.’
‘Not you. Must be others. Many others.’ Silent Wolf moved back to his pony. ‘Smoke only used when our land is violated by outsiders.’
‘What
do you mean by outsiders, little hunter?’ Iron Eyes gazed at the handsome Indian curiously.
‘My people only make smoke signals when army or other big enemy enters reservation, Iron Eyes,’ the youth explained.
‘What would soldiers want to enter your reservation for?’
‘This land has the yellow stones white men like.’
‘You mean gold?’ Iron Eyes had never understood why so many men seemed to lose their sanity when it came to gold. To him it was worthless unless made into a golden eagle coin.
‘Yes. Gold.’ The Cheyenne threw himself on to the back of his mount and gathered up the crude, rawhide-rope rein with one hand as his other held the animal’s mane.
‘Maybe we ought to go take a look at what’s gotten your people so worked up, Silent Wolf,’ Iron Eyes said through gritted teeth as he moved towards his horse.
‘We go and see,’ the Cheyenne hunter nodded as he expertly controlled his pony.
Iron Eyes raised an eyebrow. ‘Is it healthy for me to be seen by your tribe?’
‘You safe with me. They not harm friend of Silent Wolf.’
Reluctantly, Iron Eyes stepped into his stirrup and hauled himself atop his horse.
‘Okay. But if they start shooting at me, I’ll shoot back.’
‘They say man never see or hear bullet or arrow that kill him, Iron Eyes,’ Silent Wolf said as he turned his pony around.
‘Maybe so, but I’ll kill the varmint who kills me.’ Iron Eyes stared at the brave Cheyenne and nudged his mount closer. There was something about the Indian which intrigued the battle-scarred bounty hunter. Perhaps he reminded him of himself at that age. ‘Are you as good a hunter as you look, Silent Wolf?’
‘There are those who say I am blessed by the Great Spirit and able to turn into a real wolf whenever I wish,’ Silent Wolf said calmly.
‘Is it true?’
‘Maybe true. Maybe not true.’
‘You teasing a fellow hunter, Silent Wolf?’ Iron Eyes gave the young brave a long, knowing look.
‘Me no understand, Iron Eyes.’ The Cheyenne almost smiled as he kicked his heels into the sides of his pony and started down the overgrown trail.
‘The hell you don’t.’
The smell of smoke filled the bounty hunter’s nostrils as he gathered up his loose reins. Suddenly Iron Eyes was reminded that he and Silent Wolf were not alone in this vast forest.
Iron Eyes tapped his spurs into the flesh of his horse and began to follow the young brave into the black shadows. He had heard of the legends which told of certain Indians being able to turn into animals and birds at will. Until now, he had thought they were just tall tales, yet Iron Eyes knew there was something different about the elegant Cheyenne he was following. If there was an Indian capable of transforming into another creature, it was Silent Wolf, Iron Eyes thought.
As the bounty hunter’s tall horse followed the grey pony deeper and deeper along the dark, narrow trail which wound its way between the straight pine trees, Iron Eyes knew in his guts that they were heading into a place he had been to many times. A place called trouble.
Chapter Fifteen
‘There!’ Silent Wolf pointed as the two riders reached another clearing halfway down the steep mountain trail. ‘See them, Iron Eyes? Soldiers!’
‘I see them, Silent Wolf,’ Iron Eyes growled as he focused on the valley below their high vantage point. Even the moonlight could not disguise the white-canvas-topped wagons and scores of mounted cavalry milling around in the valley of swaying grass. ‘What the hell are them soldier boys doing there? If this is an Indian reservation, they got no right to even enter.’
‘They on Cheyenne land. Why?’ Silent Wolf asked angrily as he pulled his ancient rifle from its hiding place inside a large hide bag, hanging across the shoulders of his pony.
‘Reckon it must be something to do with the gold you told me about, little hunter.’ Iron Eyes held his reins high to his chest as he balanced in his stirrups watching the activity below. ‘A lot of white folks would skin their mothers to get hold of a few ounces of gold.’
Silent Wolf raised his rifle and nestled its wooden stock against his shoulder, whilst looking down its length trying to line up its rusty sights.
‘I kill white men.’
‘No! You can’t just start killing troopers.’ Iron Eyes reached across and pushed the barrel down.
‘Why, Iron Eyes?’
‘Cos it would give them critters an excuse to attack your people, Silent Wolf,’ Iron Eyes reasoned. He had seen it happen many times. ‘That sort don’t need any excuse to kill more Indians.’
Suddenly Silent Wolf aimed his index finger at the densely-wooded hill opposite the one they were on.
‘Big trouble coming.’
Iron Eyes could see what the young brave was talking about as he stared in the direction his companion was indicating. At first it just looked like spots of light moving in a long line through a forest trail. Then, Iron Eyes realized it was the light of the large moon catching the raised war lances and rifles of hundreds of Cheyenne riders as they made their way to a point above the encamped soldiers.
‘Looks like them soldiers are in for a fight.’ Iron Eyes ran his fingers through his mane of black hair and felt the pain of his stitched-up scalp. His head still ached but he no longer heard the throbbing drumming inside his skull. The only drumming he heard now was coming from somewhere below in the heartland of the Cheyenne as their warriors advanced on the cavalry.
‘Why soldiers want gold?’ the young brave asked his grim-faced companion.
‘Greed,’ Iron Eyes muttered under his breath.
‘No understand,’ Silent Wolf said as he looked back into the stony features of the bounty hunter. ‘What is greed?’
‘It’s when one man wants what another man has,’ Iron Eyes informed.
‘You mean they want Cheyenne gold?’
Iron Eyes nudged his horse closer to the younger man’s pony. ‘They probably want your entire reservation as well.’
‘That is wrong,’ Silent Wolf breathed heavily as his chest heaved. ‘My people would give them the yellow rocks if they asked, for it is of no use. Gold is not strong enough make knife. It is heavy. It useless.’
‘But it shines,’ Iron Eyes shrugged. ‘Folks back east like it ‘cos it shines.’
‘They stupid.’ The young Cheyenne spat at the ground.
‘They sure ain’t got the same values as us hunters and that’s for sure, Silent Wolf.’ Iron Eyes watched as the distant warriors continued past the soldiers and headed towards the mouth of the valley. He was curious. ‘Where are your people headed?’
‘I do not know,’ Silent Wolf replied as he, too, wondered where his fellow Cheyenne were going. As a hunter, he would have stopped when he was above his prey and then struck. Seeing the long line of Indian riders continuing through the trees made no sense to his own honed instincts.
Before either man could speak again, a noise like thunderous lightning bolts filled both their ears. The red-hot tapers of bullets seemed to flash all around them from behind their mounts.
They were being shot at.
Without knowing what or who could be using them for target practice, Iron Eyes slapped his long reins across the tail of Silent Wolfs grey pony. The animal leapt forward and raced through a gap between the trees with its young master hanging on to its mane. Iron Eyes swung his horse full-circle as the shots tore up the air around him, and drew one of his Navy Colts. He fired blindly back at the place where the bullets were originating.
As Iron Eyes’ sixth bullet blasted from the long blue barrel of his pistol, he turned the horse and dug his spurs into its flesh. The animal jumped down on to the lower ground where the grey pony had just fled, and then began to follow.
Pushing his empty gun into one of his roomy coat pockets, Iron Eyes grabbed his reins in both hands, pulled his mount’s head up and rode into the darkness.
Bullets continued to follow the bounty hunter until he man
aged to steer his petrified horse into the dense trees. He continued riding hard until he saw the waiting Cheyenne rider before him. Only then did he drag his mount to a stop.
‘Who shoot at us, Iron Eyes?’
Iron Eyes dismounted and checked his horse before replying. ‘Whoever it was, they were using handguns.’
‘How you know this?’
‘I’ve heard most guns in my time, little hunter. That was two Remingtons and a Colt.’ Iron Eyes ran his hand over his tired horse and bit his lip.
‘Must be white men,’ Silent Wolf said thoughtfully. ‘But why white men up here and why they shoot at us?’
‘I figure they was shooting at me.’ Iron Eyes shook his head as he felt the pain starting once again inside his skull. The violent riding had also started his head wound bleeding again and a thin line of blood trickled down his face. The bounty hunter ran a finger across his temple and stared at the blood on it.
‘You bleeding.’
‘Yeah,’ Iron Eyes said whilst loading his empty gun before ramming it into his belt next to its lethal twin. ‘I keep bleeding like this and there ain’t gonna be none left.’
‘Who shoot at Iron Eyes and Silent Wolf?’ the brave asked out loud.
Iron Eyes tied his reins to a tree branch. ‘Reckon I ought to take a look.’
Silent Wolf leapt from his pony and ran to the side of the gaunt figure. ‘We both take look.’
Iron Eyes was in no mood to argue. ‘Let’s do us some tracking, little hunter.’
Chapter Sixteen
The sound of distant gunfire was still echoing all around the moonlit valley, and in the hearts of the cavalry who waited anxiously for the gold miners to ready their ten wagons. There was a chilling warning to the troopers in the sounds of the bullets that came from the mountainous forests.
It was clear that something had or was still occurring in the black trees above his men, and Major Roberts decided he could wait no longer to make his retreat from this handsome valley. Bullets were being fired and the officer had no idea who their intended targets were. He stepped into his stirrup, hauled himself on to his fresh, eager mount and rode around his men trying to impart his own stalwart courage into his meager force.
