Red Eagle's War

by Cheryl Pierson

  “Come on, boy.”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice.

  Chapter 4

  We rode into the dark of night, farther and farther away from Red Eagle and his men. Toward safety. Toward the light of morning. How I hated the dark.

  He didn’t try to talk to me, and I was glad of it. I understood that we had to ride hard and put the miles between us and the Apache. I was bone weary, but exultant at the same time. I was not going to die tonight. And it was almost too large an idea for me to think of, either way—the dying, or the relief that I was not going to.

  The man rode just ahead of me, cutting a ribbon through the darkness that I followed. The Indians had ridden a long way across that devil’s desert to get to where my Papa had built our cabin. They’d come a far piece, I thought, to get to us, to kill. My mama had herself a little flower garden right outside the front door. Forget-me-nots, and daisies, and beautiful roses of all colors. One day, I was going to go back to our cabin and see if those flowers had grown. And if they had, I promised myself right then as I rode through the endless black night I was going to pick one and put it on Mama’s grave—wherever she was buried. My mama had loved her flowers more’n anything in this world.

  I thought about Papa and tried to remember things he’d told me, to pass the riding time. “Son,” he said once as we were working out in the field, “when I was your age, I already knew that I’d be the owner of a large shipping company when I grew up. But I didn’t want to do what my father did, and his father before him, there in Boston.

  “The ocean and I just don’t get along. No sir,” he went on, hoeing the corn, “this is the life for me. Working the land. Building my own empire.”

  I thought about how he looked at me kind of strange-like then.

  “Will,” he said, “you might not like this life I love so much. I hope you won’t feel bound to something you don’t cotton to. Your grandpa and I, we never patched things up after I left—but you’re his only grandson. One day, you might get up to Boston, and if you do—” He stopped, like he’d said too much. It seemed like, maybe he wished that he hadn’t left in the way he had back when he and Mama decided to come west. Right then, it seemed to me as if maybe he was bound to something he didn’t love nearly as much as he thought he did. Now, he was part of it forever.

  Thinking on it, as I rode, I started to get mad. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. Why had he come west? If he and Mama had’ve stayed in Boston, they’d still be alive. And so would Lisbeth. I would not have had to see them red devils lay their murderin’ hands on my family, and I wouldn’t have had to ever know what it felt like to be so mortally wounded from that vision that I felt like I’d never get over it. Like my own heart had been cut out of me. But here I was, still ridin’. Still hurtin’. Still livin’.

  It was a good thing Red Eagle’s horse was surefooted and didn’t need much guiding. With the way my eyes felt, all hot and burning, I couldn’t see much, anyhow.

  ****

  Finally, when I thought I couldn’t go another mile, the man drew up his horse and stopped. I hadn’t paid much attention, but the sky was starting to get a little lighter, and the land had gotten barren again. We were in the heart of the desert once more.

  “I know you’re worn out, boy. We’ll stop for good, here pretty soon, if you can just last a little longer.”

  I nodded, and he said, “Good. Let’s go.”

  The sound of his voice was a comfort to me. Gentle-like, and kind. But I already had seen a measure of how tough he was. A tingle ran through me. He had ridden right into Red Eagle’s camp and taken me back! How could he have done such a thing? No hero from the legends and mythology tales Mama told was as brave as he was. He had dared to thwart Red Eagle and had succeeded—there was no doubt about that. I felt as invincible as Sir Lancelot, riding behind him, and I didn’t even know his name.

  That feeling of safety lulled me, took the edge off my fear, and let me relax. My eyelids grew heavy and I slumped forward. The next thing I knew, I’d fallen off of my horse. Strong hands lifted me up, but I was asleep on my feet.

  He lifted me onto his horse and swung up behind me, chuckling. That soft laugh still echoed in his chest as I settled against him, and slept in earnest. Security surrounded me, and I finally felt safe for the first time I could remember. I dreamed of a cabin, sitting snug and protected beside a traveled road, with real glass windows. It was the first time I’d dreamed anything at all, since it had all happened.

  Chapter 5

  When I woke up, it was dark and cool. We were in a cave. I rolled over and stood up, wobbly from the sleep of exhaustion, and the crushing sadness that seemed to come out of nowhere to weigh me down.

  I got my first good look at my rescuer in the dim light. He was propped against a stone near the front of the cave, a watchful eye marking the land outside. He was much taller and broader than my Papa had been, his face hard as the rock that enclosed us. When he turned to look at me, though, a flash of softening washed across his craggy features before they set into hardness again.

  “If you have to pee, young ’un, there’s a place right yonder where I can keep an eye on you.”

  I guess the shock must’ve registered on my face. Even Red Eagle’s band had given me a bit of privacy to take care of my business.

  The man laughed aloud at my expression. “Take that trail yonder down to that lone bush.” He gestured with the rifle. “I can’t see you once you’re there, so make it quick and hightail it back up here soon’s you can.”

  I nodded, then started down the slope toward the bush he’d pointed out.

  Once I’d gotten back safe to the cave, much relieved, I sat down a few feet from the man and crossed my legs. He took a piece of jerky from his bag that lay beside him and handed it to me.

  “Go on,” he said when I hesitated. “You gotta be hungry. I know Red Eagle doesn’t take special care with his captives. He doesn’t care if you eat or not, long as you stay alive until he gets you sold.”

  At that, my blood froze in my veins. I’d heard stories of the Indians kidnapping white settlers for their own purposes—and of them bartering them. Why it hadn’t dawned on me that might be what Red Eagle had planned for me, I didn’t know. But this man seemed to be certain that was the fate I’d been bound for, and I believed him.

  I took the jerky from him and bit off a piece of it, chewing slowly. I was plenty hungry five minutes ago. Now, the piece of dried meat tasted like sawdust. Just two weeks ago, I had had everything—a home, a full stomach, a safe bed to sleep in, and my family.

  Now, I was sure my home was nothing but a heap of burnt ashes and my bed was wherever I happened to fall asleep—including the back of a horse. I had no family. All I had was the clothes I wore—ragged, filthy, and one of my galluses had snapped earlier when I’d visited the bush. That, as Mama said, was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

  The tears rose up in my eyes and my throat closed, nearly choking me as I swallowed the jerky. I glanced at the man and was horrified to see a look of understanding and pity cross his craggy face. My heart pounded as I fought to get control of myself. I wouldn’t cry. And I dern sure wouldn’t do it in front of him. Somehow, that would’ve been worse than breaking down in front of Red Eagle.

  But as I sat there fingering the frayed piece of my suspender strap, the world twisted and whirled until I almost felt sick to my stomach before it righted itself. No matter what else happened, Mama would say I should remember to say ‘thank you’ for saving me from Red Eagle. Right now, I didn’t know if I was thankful. I was feeling sorry for myself and my broken suspender strap.

  “By the way,” he said, looking back out across the sweep of barren land. “I’m Jacobi Kane.” He never turned back to me, never put out his hand or met my eyes like what’s proper when you make an introduction. So, I figured right then maybe he could overlook that I hadn’t said a thank you yet to him for savin’ my hide. He didn’t expect it, so why was I
worryin’ over it? Guess he didn’t expect an introduction from me, neither, cause he went right on talkin’ while he kept watch for any livin’ thing out that cave opening.

  “I know how you’re feelin’ right about now.”

  No, I thought. You don’t know the very first thing about how I’m feelin’.

  “You’re stomach’s twisted up in knots—and I know it ain’t cause you’re afraid. You’re the strongest boy I think I ever clapped my eyes on. I saw the way Red Eagle treated you…and the things he did to your folks.”

  How would he know about any of that, unless he’d been trailing Red Eagle’s band for several days? Had he come by the home place just afterward? A thought shot into my head like a jagged bolt of lightning that burned and wouldn’t turn a-loose. Had he seen it happen? Been there in the shadows of the woods, watching, and not helping?

  He turned around to look at me, and he could see the dark path my thoughts had taken by the look on his face. His eyes took on a sorrowful light. “Wasn’t anything I coulda done, young ’un. Too many of ’em. All I could do was follow you, and wait my chance to jump Red Eagle. But tryin’ to save your pa and ma—they was kilt so quick I couldn’t’ve got from where I was to them before he got ’em nohow. Then, the girl came runnin’ out—I sure wasn’t expectin’ that.” He shook his head, almost as if he felt responsible for Lisbeth gettin’ shot.

  Once again, my mind relived those last seconds my sister had spent on this earth. She’d sprung from the cabin, running like a wild thing when she’d seen Mama fall. Lisbeth had long red hair. It flew out behind her as she ran, like streaks of fire. She had let out a shriek that I would never forget, jumping from the porch across the small space that separated Red Eagle from our cabin. She clawed at him with the fury of an animal that had the hydrophobe. He’d cut her with his knife—but that wasn’t what killed her. From somewhere, the crack of a rifle had stopped her cold. I began to think on that, because it just came to me that the rifle shot had sounded like it came from behind me. From the woods.

  When Lisbeth fell dead in Red Eagle’s arms, I lost my senses. I forgot about any warning Papa had given me. He was dead on the ground. There’d be no more whuppin’s. Mama was beyond a care, too. I flung myself out of that shelter and ran across the open space between the outbuildings and the front yard where the red murderin’ devils were. And that’s the last thing I remember until I came to that night, laid out on the ground with my hands tied up, Red Eagle standing over me.

  “You’re still peaked, aren’t you, son?” The man patted the ground beside where he sat, looking out into the noonday sun. I got up and walked over to where he sat, easing myself down beside him, but not so close as to touch him. It surprised me, how much I wished I would’ve sat just a couple of inches closer to him. Right then, I needed someone to put an arm around my shoulder and hug me. In the next instant, I felt ashamed for even thinking that way—disloyal, somehow, to Papa. Though Papa was never the kind that would’ve hugged me up. That wasn’t manly, he said. And he’d even given Mama a look or two when she did it. I couldn’t help it, though. I wanted to know another human was alive in the world like me—not like them blasted savages that killed everything, and brought ruination everywhere they went.

  But Jacobi Kane didn’t make any kind of move, and I guess it was a good thing. Cause if he’d have put an arm around me right then, I’d’ve probably let those tears start. And I wasn’t about to do that, even though my eyes were burnin’ somethin’ fierce.

  “You know,” he said in a soft, slow voice, “sometimes, a person sees things he wishes he’d never had to lay his eyes on. Sometimes, a person does things he—well, things he has no choice in doing. But he wishes like hell he had been able to see a way out—” He broke off, and finally he looked at me. In his rugged face were the mountains and valleys of his life, drawn like a map. Sorrowful memories and not much happiness. Sadness that was deeper than I could know, even, being all of ten years old. But mainly, there was an understanding. His mouth turned upward and he gave me a quick pat on the back.

  “You’ll talk when you’re ready, I reckon. You’ve had a rough week, but you’re safe, now. We’ll get you back to Fort Worth and…well, you be thinking about what relations you might go live with. We got plenty of time, young ’un. Another several days’ travelin’ time.”

  What Mr. Kane said weighed heavy on my mind. What relations did I have? A grandpa in Boston I’d never known. That was all I knew about. Just him. I didn’t want to be a ship builder! Like my pa, I didn’t believe me and the ocean would get on too well. I didn’t even know how to swim. My parents had left Boston before I was born to come west. I didn’t know my grandfather, or what kind of a man he might turn out to be. All I knew was, there was some powerful reason my pa had seen fit to leave there and come so far west—away from everything that was familiar to him.

  Mr. Kane went about getting the horses ready to go. I dreaded the thought of another day of riding. Arrow was a beauty, no doubt, but with no saddle like I was used to, it was hard going at times, when I got tired. Which, pretty much, was all the time right now.

  Where would I go, once we got back to Fort Worth? The question just wouldn’t leave me. And the answer was apparent. I was suddenly homeless and orphaned. It made me angry to think of how Mama, Papa, and even Lisbeth were all together, and I was left alone here to try to make my own way and figure out what to do.

  “Boy?” Mr. Kane gave me a gentle nudge, and I realized he was ready to go. I guess he read the weariness in my expression, because he reached for me and sat me on his own horse’s back, leading both animals out of the sheltering cave. Then he swung up behind me, and tied Arrow’s reins to the pommel of his saddle. He set an unhurried pace downward, back to the sparse, barren desert land, holding the reins with his left hand, his rifle with his right. His body was solid and tense behind me, but I believed what he’d told me. I was safe, now, with him. And I felt the flowering of a trust that I thought never to know again after losing all that was dear to me. We rode eastward. Hours later, as the sun was setting behind us, I spoke the first words I’d uttered in well over a week.

  “Will. My name is William Green.”

  He stiffened a little behind me, and I felt him nod. “Good to meet you, Will.” He never made any kind of commotion over me telling him who I was. It just slipped out. And then I felt the tightness ease up inside my chest just a little.

  To tell the truth, I’d been afraid, and hadn’t realized it. I’d thought, when Red Eagle had me, I wasn’t talking because I didn’t want to. But somewhere in that week’s time, I think I must’ve figured out the truth. I wasn’t talking because I couldn’t. I tried to make myself think I was only being stubborn and defiant, but that wasn’t true. I wasn’t scared, though. Fact was, I just couldn’t talk, so I didn’t try.

  I could tell that it relieved him. He didn’t say so, but I could hear his smile when he answered me.

  Chapter 6

  We made camp that night up on a high mesa. It took us the last hour of daylight to get up to the top, but it was a safe place. We didn’t have a fire, and ate more jerky. I was too tired to care.

  We lay down under the wide-open sky that night and I looked up at the stars, thinking that Mama, Papa and Lisbeth were looking at the stars from the other side.

  “Where do you live, Mr. Kane?” I asked, drifting in that fog just before sleep overcame me.

  “In the world, Will,” he answered very quietly. “In this great big old world.”

  His voice sounded sad and lonely. And it made me wish for him to have a nice cabin like ours had been—a home—with cornbread cooking in the oven and a soft bed at night to sleep in, with forget-me-nots and roses growing just outside the doorway in the flower garden. Nobody could ask for more than that, could they?

  Maybe he’d never had such a thing.

  Or…maybe he had.

  ****

  I don’t know what it was that startled me out of my sleep. Something mad
e the hairs at the back of my neck feel like they were singed with a trail of danger streaking down my back like it was burning me. I jerked awake, just as a familiar form jumped from the shadows into the full moonlight.

  Jacobi Kane woke just as I did, throwing up a strong arm to ward off Red Eagle’s attack. The Indian screeched as he fell backward, and Jacobi came atop him, slugging and rolling on the ground.

  We hadn’t been asleep long, I thought, since the sand under my bedroll still held the warmth of the daytime sun. The moon spilled a brilliant sheen of silver over the mesa—light enough to see.

  I looked around quickly for Red Eagle’s men. We were dead, for sure. But he appeared to be alone. Still, he was a fighter. I had seen him and his tricks. If Jacobi lost…

  His words came back to me when he’d talked to me about the Apache selling their captives. Could anything be worse than being taken by Red Eagle again? This time, would he even bother?

  Jacobi’s rifle lay near his bedroll. I crawled the few feet to where it lay and picked it up. It would be loaded already. I only needed to shoot. But what if I killed Jacobi instead?

  Fear wallowed a place in my heart, then took a good grip. If I waited, Red Eagle might kill Jacobi. If I shot and missed, I might.

  “Will!”

  He wanted me to shoot. I could hear it in his voice. I swallowed hard. It wasn’t that I couldn’t. I’d shot a rifle before. And it wasn’t that I didn’t want to kill that murderin’ son-of-a-gun, Red Eagle.

  But why did I hesitate, even hearing the edge of desperation in Jacobi’s voice? I could kill Red Eagle, and easy, for what he’d done to my family. But what if I missed? That fear became huge, and overpowered everything else, paralyzing me.

  I stood up and carried the rifle a few steps forward. That was a mistake. The rifle was nearly as long as I was tall, and it got me to thinking about how young I was—a boy! What good could I do against a demon like Red Eagle?