So he was staying behind to protect them, even though he faced torture if captured by the enemy. Well, maybe it was because the woman was Smoke’s wife and Smoke was his friend. Twilight’s estimation of the man grew. As she spread blankets and helped the woman, Yellow Jacket built a small fire and set up a lean-to of blankets against the wind.
Twilight knelt by the woman and took her hand. To Yellow Jacket she said, “Do you have any water?”
“Not much.”
“Put some of it on to boil,” Twilight said.
The woman gasped and bit her lip until it bled.
Twilight said to Yellow Jacket, “Tell her it’s okay to cry out.”
The woman seemed to understand some of what she said, because she shook her head and said something in their language to Yellow Jacket.
He nodded. “She says she must not cry out, it might alert the enemy if they have scouts out ahead of their troops.”
“Oh.” Twilight sighed. She was very much afraid with darkness only hours away and the Confederate troops advancing. The firing seemed louder now. She could still get in her buggy and get out of the conflict zone . . . but only if she abandoned this woman. The woman looked up at her with imploring dark eyes, and Twilight wiped the sweat off the woman’s brow. “Tell her I’m staying; everything will be all right.”
Yellow Jacket nodded and told the woman, who relaxed and smiled. “She understands, but she thinks we should abandon her and go on. She doesn’t see why all three of us should risk death or capture.”
The girl’s bravery impressed Twilight. “You can go on if you want, but in good conscience, I can’t leave her.”
“I know.” His voice was almost gentle. “You’re a better person than I thought you were, Mrs. Dumont, unlike most of the whites I’ve known.”
“So when this crisis is over, you’ll free me?”
Now he scowled. “So that’s what this is about? I should have known. The bad news is, white girl, that even if I freed you now, you’re liable to get accidentally shot trying to make it back to the other side. Front-line troops are nervous about strangers approaching at night.”
The woman groaned softly.
Twilight reached to mop the girl’s forehead. To Yellow Jacket she said, “I can handle this if you’ll stand guard.”
He nodded, hefted his rifle, and stood up. “I’ll keep a lookout.”
“Let me know if the troops are getting close.”
He nodded and left the hollow.
The next couple of hours crawled past slowly. It would soon be dark, and the sound of gunfire seemed closer. Twilight was scared but tried not to show it to the straining girl. If only she could put her in the buggy and retreat to the Confederate side, there would be safety and a real doctor, but the girl was now in hard labor. “Push!” Twilight said, and made a sign.
Yellow Jacket suddenly appeared. “How much longer? I can see rebel scouts coming through the trees in the distance.”
“Any minute now,” Twilight answered. “Then we’ll get in the buggy and move out.”
“I’m good with a rifle,” Yellow Jacket said. “I’ll try to get up in a tree and buy us a little time.”
“Buy us as much time as you can,” Twilight said.
He left, and the girl began to push harder. After a moment, a small, dark head appeared. With Twilight assisting her, the girl gave birth to a baby girl. Twilight smiled and smacked its bottom so that it wailed, then wrapped the baby in her shawl. The little mother smiled, too.
Immediately, Yellow Jacket appeared. “Everything all right here?”
The woman said something to Yellow Jacket, and he grinned. “She wants to name the baby for you because you saved its life.”
Twilight blinked back tears and laid the baby in the crook of its mother’s arm. “Tell her I would be greatly honored.”
Yellow Jacket spoke to the woman, then to Twilight. “Can we move on now?”
“In a minute,” Twilight said. “There’s a little finishing up to do; then you can help me get them into the buggy.”
“I’ll hold them off as long as I can, but hurry.”
Twilight did what she could with the little bit of water, then yelled for Yellow Jacket. “Can you get her into the buggy if I carry the baby?”
In answer he dismounted, swung the girl up into his arms, and headed for the buggy, with Twilight coming behind with the baby and her medical bag. “Let’s get out of here.”
Yellow Jacket put the girl in the buggy, and Twilight handed her the baby and climbed up on the seat. Yellow Jacket mounted up, looked behind him. “Those rebs aren’t half a mile away.”
Twilight snapped the reins, and the horse started off at a trot. She hated the rough ride for the Indian girl, but it couldn’t be helped. The late afternoon was shadowy across the frozen prairie as they headed for the river.
They reached the river at sundown. Mass confusion reigned as the fleeing Indians tried to cross the river the whites called the Arkansas. Children cried, and loose dogs ran about barking while sheep baaed and cattle milled. Yellow Jacket shook his head and shouted to Twilight. “We’ve got to cross the river or be slaughtered right here. Can you take the buggy across?”
Twilight touched her chest in dismay. The river looked deep and dark, with a swift current. As she watched, another light wagon started across. The Indian driving it cracked his whip and yelled at the horses. The horses hesitated, not wanting to brave the current, then plunged in. Immediately, the wagon began to float, then overturned, dumping people into the swift, cold stream. Women screamed and others waded in to rescue them as the driver fought to right the wagon. The horses broke free and headed for the far shore, but the driver and the wagon were swept away and were seen no more.
Yellow Jacket rode up and down the bank, yelling to people, encouraging them to cross. The gunfire of the advancing Confederates grew even louder. The Creeks and the others trapped on the bank looked back toward the sound of the advancing army, then toward the distant shore. To be trapped here on this side, with the river behind them, was a death sentence, and they knew it. More and more of the people drove their cattle and goats into the water or rode horses into the river, fighting to reach the other side. Some of them were swept away and lost.
Twilight looked at the Creek girl next to her. The girl clutched her baby and looked at the water with fearful eyes. Twilight had faced more danger in the past couple of days than she ever had in her whole sheltered life. She drove up to the edge of the water and hesitated. If the buggy overturned, the young mother and her baby didn’t stand a chance.
Yellow Jacket galloped up. “Here, I’ll help you.” He rode out into the water, reached to grab her horse’s bridle, led it deeper. “Hang on!” he yelled at Twilight. “The buggy will float if you can stay with it.”
Twilight reached over and put her arm around the young Indian woman. “We’re ready.”
Yellow Jacket nodded and forced her horse deeper into the river. Twilight had a helpless feeling as the buggy began to float. She watched Yellow Jacket’s strong arm hanging onto her horse to keep it from panicking and heading back to shore. Now both horses were swimming strongly. The cold water came up in the buggy, around her ankles, and Twilight gasped at the cold. It was numbing and icy. Anyone who was drenched would probably freeze to death before they could be dried out.
It seemed like an eternity that they fought the river, the buggy threatening to overturn or be swept away at any moment, but finally, she felt her horse regain its footing and the buggy wheels hit ground. Then Yellow Jacket was leading it up the other side. He was drenched and shivering.
“Find shelter out of the wind,” he gasped. “I think we’ll have to fight rebels there at Round Mountain.” He nodded toward the low profile of the hill nearby. Now he wheeled his horse and headed back into the water.
“Where are you going?” Twilight called.
“I’ve got to help hold that bank until we can get all our people across; otherwise, they’ll be
slaughtered.”
“You’ll be killed!” Suddenly Twilight was very much afraid of losing him.
He shrugged and plunged back into the racing water. “Get out of sight!” he shouted back.
Twilight watched him reenter the river, her heart in her throat. It was growing dusky dark, and if they didn’t get the hundreds of stragglers across soon, they’d have to wait until morning, and by then the Confederates would be here. Women and children would be slaughtered if the rebels overtook them. She looked over at her sleeping namesake with her tiny face and dark hair, and decided she would do whatever it took to aid these helpless people in reaching Kansas and safety.
Behind them, the noise and the echo of gunfire increased. Twilight urged her horse to move faster. Once she would have welcomed being overtaken by her own side, but now she was afraid the gray-clad soldiers might shoot first and ask questions later.
Twilight looked at the weapons the warriors carried as they galloped back across the river to help Yellow Jacket and Smoke. Some of them were well mounted, some afoot. None had warm enough clothing. Few besides Yellow Jacket carried good weapons. Most had old hunting rifles or shotguns; a few were armed only with bows and arrows, knives, and lances.
Twilight stared after them, trying to decide what to do next. Right now, she decided, her main responsibility was to get the woman and baby in her buggy out of the line of fire. The mountain ahead of her was small. Off to one side, the women and children were heading for the safety of the brush and rocks. Twilight slapped her horse with the reins and joined them.
Just before he plunged into the river, Yellow Jacket turned in his saddle to glance back at the white woman and her buggy. She appealed to him as a female, and, too, she might make a good bargaining chip if needed. He must think of her that way, as an object, and stop thinking of her as a desirable woman.
He drew up and addressed his men. “You have your orders from old Opothleyahola. We are badly outnumbered, but perhaps by ambush, we can even the score. Are you ready to die for the good of our people?”
The men set up a shout of defiance, and Yellow Jacket nodded. “We go, then.”
With him in the lead, his small war party topped the ridge and saw a line of gray-clad men coming through the brush ahead of them. Yellow Jacket said a small prayer to the Master of Breath and then charged forward, yelling a war cry. Behind him, his men hurled insults and challenges as they rushed forward. The rebels looked startled for a moment, then dropped to one knee and began to fire as their cavalry surged around them, galloping toward the war party.
Yellow Jacket drew in sharply, causing his fine horse to rear. He felt shells whiz past him as the rebels rushed forward. He must not panic and flee. He and his men must wait until the enemy was almost upon them, then turn and lead the unsuspecting gray line back to where the ambush awaited. He could hear the rebels calling to each other as they ran, and behind him he heard a cry as one of his own warriors was shot from his saddle. The smell of gunpowder burned his nose, and the smoke from the weapons made the cold dusk hazy, so that at times he could barely make out the gray-clad men riding toward him.
“Now!” He wheeled his horse as the rebel cavalry rode so close that he could almost make out the color of the white men’s eyes. “Now, brave men, make them follow us!” He put the spurs to his horse, as did the others, and turned to ride toward the mountain, forcing the unsuspecting cavalry to chase them. Near him, an old friend cried out and fell from his horse, wounded. Yellow Jacket hesitated. His soul told him to ride back, try to rescue his friend, but there was not time unless he sacrificed his mission. He had been given his orders.
Yelling to his braves to stay just ahead of the rebel cavalry, Yellow Jacket kept riding. When he glanced back, he saw a rebel shoot the helpless brave who had fallen. Yellow Jacket’s anger made him give a defiant shout. Now he could feel the bullets whizzing past him, hear the labored breathing of the rebel horses. Were they going to make it or would the cavalry commander realize he was being led into an ambush and pull back?
He looked behind him. The commander was the young Captain Wellsley. The boy would be too green to know what was happening. Only a few more yards, and he and his braves would reach safety, where the warriors hid in ambush on either side of the little gully up ahead. It seemed like a million miles to that draw, and he was not sure any of them was going to make it. Behind him, he heard a rebel rider shout a warning, but when Yellow Jacket looked back, the captain was riding pell-mell ahead, too green to realize that he and his little patrol of cavalry were riding right into the heart of the Indian ambush. He glanced to one side, seeing the last rays of the dying sun glinting off the hidden guns.
“Now!” Yellow Jacket shouted, and wheeled his horse to face the oncoming cavalry even as the guns hidden in the draw opened up with a roar.
Chapter 9
In confusion, Captain Wellsley reined in his rearing bay horse. A moment ago, he and his cavalry unit had been chasing down a ragtag band of savages, led by that big warrior he’d recognized as Yellow Jacket. As he galloped after the fleeing Indians, he imagined the parade back in Austin, his proud, beaming mother watching as he accepted his medal and promotion. Now all hell had broken loose, with rifle fire blazing from behind every shrub and rock. The savages he’d been chasing had disappeared into thin air or had turned their horses, charging him instead of fleeing. Around him, men shouted and screamed as they went down; horses neighed and bolted, dragging riders.
“Ambush!” someone shouted. “Ambush!”
Ambush, yes, that was it. Wellsley hadn’t thought the savages would know such battle tactics. “Take cover, men!” he shouted, dismounting his own rearing horse.
Near him, a cavalry mount went down, trapping a rider beneath it. The man screamed as the half ton of horse fell on him. Oh, God, what to do next? Captain Wellsley suddenly couldn’t remember anything they’d taught him at West Point, and he’d lost his hat. The noise deafened him as his horse neighed and reared and he hung on to the reins. A man afoot is a dead man. It took all his strength to hold the horse and tie it to a sturdy bush. The wind felt icy cold against his pale face as the sun sank on the horizon.
Where were the rest of the Texas troops and the rebel Indians? They’d had such superior numbers, but now his men were being shot to pieces after being stupid enough to fall for the oldest trick in the world. Ambush. He wouldn’t get a medal; he was going to lose his silver bars and be drummed out of the army in disgrace. What will Mother say?
At least no one could say he didn’t die bravely. Captain Wellsley grabbed the rifle from his saddle and crouched down behind a boulder. He aimed and fired, taking out a warrior who had raised his head too high. What had happened to that escaping group of savages he’d been chasing? They were nowhere in sight, having melted into the landscape, and were now firing back at him. Around him, his Confederate cavalry fell groaning in the bloody snow. In the distant twilight, he saw gray-clad Texas troops coming, but they weren’t going to get here in time.
His sergeant grabbed his shoulder, shook him back to reality. “Sir, we’re in trouble here;, we should retreat.”
“Retreat? Gallant Confederates? What will people say?”
The old sergeant blinked. “Better to retreat than to lose all our men, sir.”
Wellsley looked about, uncertain. Yes, of course the sergeant was right. Only he wouldn’t call it “retreat”; he’d call it regrouping. “Very well, Sergeant,” he shouted over the gunfire, “sound recall!”
In a split second, the bugle rang out loud and clear over the gunfire, and the gray-clad men began to retreat. Some of them had lost their horses and were afoot; others, badly wounded, died in a hail of gunfire as they tried to limp away.
Captain Wellsley swung up on his horse, feeling the bullets whiz past him in the dark and the cold. He was terrified. As for Mrs. Dumont, he’d made a gallant effort to rescue her, if indeed she was still alive, and he had failed. With his head hanging in humiliation, he turned his
horse to gallop back to the advancing rebels, knowing it was a complete rout. He’d lost most of his command to a clever ambush from a bunch of poorly armed savages.
Behind him, Yellow Jacket watched in satisfaction as the rebels fled. He thought he had seen Captain Wellsley among the rebels and knew the white officer would try to rescue the beautiful white girl. Yellow Jacket didn’t intend to give her up. “They run! The first battle of the white man’s Civil War in Indian Territory is our victory!”
Around him, warriors set off war whoops and chants, and some ran out to scalp the enemy dead. Yellow Jacket almost stopped them, then shrugged. The civilized tribes had never owned the custom of scalping as the plains tribes did, but he knew some of the rebel Indians and even the Texans were scalping the slain. Twilight. With his heart beating hard with apprehension, he crossed the river and went looking for the white woman. He found her huddled behind a rock, holding Smoke’s new baby against her. “Are you all right?”
Twilight was as angry as she was scared, looking up at him. “Is it over?”
“For now.” His rugged face was grim and hard. “They’ll lick their wounds, and maybe we can sneak away after dark.”
She stood up. “Sneak away? Are you joking? You’ve got a lot of dead and wounded here.”
His face in the dusk of the coming night grew stern. “Yes, we have. Get your medical bag and see what you can do. The leaders have to meet with the ancient one to see what he plans next.”
Twilight glanced from him to Smoke’s woman as she handed her the new baby. “What am I to do with them?”
“I’ll see if I can find Smoke. Maybe he can find an abandoned army wagon to transport them.” With that, he strode away. She stared after his broad back, thinking he seemed to be a tower of strength among these people. They had little food or weapons, and the odds were against them. All they had in abundance was courage. With all these Confederate forces chasing them, these Indians didn’t have a chance of making it the three hundred miles to the Kansas border, and yet, they wouldn’t give up. From the smallest child to the frailest old woman, they were teaching Twilight something about bravery and stubborn determination.
To Tame A Rebel Page 12
