by A. M. Burns
“So?” Gray Talon stared at the two white eyes. Trey was more of the People than one of the pale skins, but sometimes Gray Talon just didn’t understand the way his mind worked. “That will mean that more feel comfortable moving into the Crows’ territory. Do you really want that kind of pressure for Jumping Elk and his people?”
“It might also help the authorities look the other way if we encounter problems with Dabinshire and McNair. Taking down most of this gang of outlaws will make us heroes, at least for a little while. Hopefully that’s all the time we’re going to need.” Trey walked over, set the bags on the ground next to Spot, and laid a hand on Gray Talon’s shoulder. “Talon, we have a debt to repay to a dragon. That’s a serious debt. We need all the help we can to resolve this. If beheading a few dead thieves who have no hope of a peaceful next life anyway is going to help us pay off the dragon, then we need to do it.”
Gray Talon sighed. “I still don’t like it. But, I suppose it will help us. Not sure if one of their horses would carry the burden or not.”
“I can carry them, Master Gray Talon,” Copperpot offered. “We could put them all in a sack, and the burden would be a simple one for me.”
“Then it’s settled,” Sarah said, her voice lighter than it should’ve been at the thought of the grizzly task. “Why don’t you two finish loading what we’re taking.” She gestured to the two horses next to Spot that were already equipped with pack saddles. “Copperpot and I will handle gathering the heads.”
“Are you sure?” Trey asked.
She pulled out the axe she’d added to her horse’s saddle. “I found this in the barn. It should make quick work of them.” She looked up at the construct. “Why don’t we look in the barn and see if there’s any gunny sacks in there. We could probably get a head or three per sack if we stack them right.”
Gray Talon watched the two walk toward the barn. “She’d make a good warrior.”
“She would,” Trey replied. “Something tells me she might be around for a while.”
“I think you’re right. She’s entitled to want vengeance, just like you do,” he said. “I also think she is more angry about the death of her husband than she’s letting on.”
Trey’s blue gaze bore into Gray Talon. “What would you do if they had killed me?”
It wasn’t something Gray Talon wanted to ever consider. He blinked at the thought, and visions of white man’s blood staining the ground red filled him. “I wouldn’t rest until every last one of them was wiped off the face of the Earth, and she had feasted on their blood.”
Trey gave him a thoughtful look. “Exactly what I would do if they killed you. We understand her anger. I hope neither of us has to experience her pain. Even if the memory is new, the death of my parents was ten years ago.” He caught Gray Talon in his arms. “I don’t think I could bear a memory of your death.”
“Nor I yours.” Their lips met briefly. “We should get on the trail soon. The sun will be high, and I’d rather be out of this canyon by nightfall.”
“Are you still planning on flying to Jumping Elk to let the tribe know about Cunning Bird?” Trey took a step backward.
Gray Talon nodded. “When we are close enough that it won’t separate me from you for very long.” Looking over his shoulder, he saw Sarah lift the axe and swing it toward the neck of a dead thief. He wanted to turn away but refused to be seen as weak, either by the woman or his lover.
TWO DAYS later, as the trail angled east toward Cheyenne, Gray Talon turned his tail feathers and flew west, deeper into the foothills, to find Jumping Elk’s camp. He hoped he would be able to rejoin Trey and the others by daybreak the following day. Even in his eagle form, it would take him several hours to reach Jumping Elk’s people, and then he’d have to stay for the mourning ritual as required by custom. It would be well after dark when it finished, and owls flew much slower than eagles. His return flight would take longer, but he’d have better night vision than in his eagle form.
The atmosphere of their little group had grown stuffy as they traveled with the heads back to Cheyenne. He still wasn’t comfortable with it. Trey was darker. He talked of wintering either in Cheyenne or with the Crow so they would be in the area to start searching for the scarred man as soon as the warm winds of spring began to blow again. Gray Talon wanted to head back to the Comanche winter camp down in Texas. They knew what to expect there. Sarah wanted to stay with them until the outlaw leader was caught and killed. Her need for vengeance was stronger than Trey’s. Gray Talon figured it was because her loss was more recent. When asked what Copperpot was planning after they found the dragon’s daughter, all the construct would say was that his place was with them, and he wanted to try to find out who he had been before he was Copperpot.
Smoke trickled up from the rise as Gray Talon flew into the mountains. The campfires from Jumping Elk’s camp led him to the Crow. It was closer to the plains than it had been a week earlier. The tribe was on the move to lower ground to winter on.
Landing the traditional quarter mile from the edge of camp, Gray Talon walked sedately up to the closest sentry. “I need to speak with Jumping Elk.”
“Of course, Gray Talon of the Comanche.” The man whistled, and seconds later a young warrior ran up to them. “Take Gray Talon to the chief,” he commanded. The boy gestured and silently turned back toward the camp.
Several tipis were still in the process of being erected. The Crow had only recently arrived on the site. Women and children rushed about while the men hoisted the logs that provided the support for the structures. Gray Talon recognized several of Jumping Elk’s advisors among the workers. It was good to see that the Crow understood that everyone needed to help out. Some tribes were adopting the pompous ways of most whites, where the leaders felt that they were separate from the work their people did to secure their continued existence.
The young warrior paused at the center of the encampment. A large tipi was going up. Gray Talon spotted Jumping Elk’s massive shoulders helping force the poles into their upright position. Like the other men, he was shirtless, and sweat glistened off his powerful back.
“Chief,” the warrior said once the pole was secured. “I have someone to see you.”
The Crow chief and the other men working turned toward them. A frown creased Jumping Elk’s moisture-beaded face.
“You return alone, Gray Talon,” the chief said. “This cannot be good news. Unfortunately my tent is not yet ready to receive visitors.”
“I’m sorry to interrupt you setting up camp with my news. Perhaps after it is delivered, I can assist your tribe.”
“You and your partner have already done much to assist us,” Jumping Elk replied. “For you to do more would put us again in your debt.”
Gray Talon held up a hand in denial. “There will be no debt incurred this day. I bring ill tidings, great chief of the Crow.” Around them work stopped, and the people pushed forward to hear what was said. “Your valiant warrior, Cunning Bird, has flown to be with Crow until he is again called back to this land.”
The gathered crowd remained silent. Gray Talon expected an old woman to cry out in grief, but none did. They simply watched, listened, and waited.
“He was an old and respected warrior of the Crow People,” the chief said slowly, softly. “Many songs have been sung to him during his lifetime. How did he die?”
“We were attacking the thieves that have terrorized these mountains for many years. He fell during the fight. The man we suspect was their leader shot him.”
“Then his death was a good one,” Jumping Elk said. “He died with honor, fighting to rid our mountains of the white menace. And was his death avenged?”
Frowning, Gray Talon pursed his lips before he spoke. “The leader escaped. He eluded us. He is a man with a scar across his cheek and a bullet hole in his ear. We killed all of the men who were at his camp with him. Even now, Trey and Copperpot carry their heads to the white authorities in Cheyenne to let them know of the deaths of the
se outlaws.”
“We shall watch for this scarred man,” the Crow chief said. “Should he cross our path, he owes our tribe blood.”
“Should he cross your path, please send word,” Gray Talon replied. “He owes us blood as well. We have learned that he is the one who killed Trey’s parents ten years ago.”
“Then your vengeance shall be paid,” Jumping Elk said. “This man will be found, and he shall die an unsung death.”
The men of the Crow raised their fists and voices to the sky. The war cry rang across the hillside. Birds took flight and mule deer raised their heads in wonder.
When the war cry died down, the Crow chief continued. “I hope that Trey McAlister sang Cunning Bird’s spirit into the wings of Crow.”
Gray Talon nodded. “It was done. Your great warrior will be with the great bird until it is time for him to return to this world.”
“Very good.” Jumping Elk returned the bow. “You will stay tonight as we sing our farewell to him.”
“I can stay until the songs are done, then I must rejoin Trey as he continues to ride on to Cheyenne. The fall breezes will soon give way to the winter winds. We need to be on our way to the Comanche winter camps before the winds blow too hard.”
“Then let us finish raising our camp!” Jumping Elk shouted. “Women, prepare the feast of Cunning Bird. Men, we shall sing and dance once our tipis are raised.” The flurry of activity increased as the Crow tribe hurried to follow their chief’s orders. Gray Talon set to work alongside the chief, as more tents needed raising.
It was good to be doing something familiar. As a boy he often groaned about having to help set up tipis. Once he and Trey had their own, it was different. Now, after being on the trail for longer than ever before in his life, helping to do something ordinary felt good. Gray Talon wondered how long it would be before they got to do regular things again. But what mattered most, even though they were away from their friends, family, and day-to-day life, was that he at least had Trey by his side on this strange trail they rode.
14
THE COOL wind blew down from the foothills as Trey, Sarah, and Copperpot set up camp. Not having Gray Talon helping was strange to Trey. His partner was rarely apart from him. He tried to remember the last time they’d been apart for more than a few hours.
Sarah walked back from checking the horses picketed on the line they’d strung between two trees. “You look sad.” The setting sunlight added a bit of red to her brown hair.
“Not really.” He shook his head. “Just seems odd to set up camp without Talon around.”
“You guys are really close, aren’t you?” She settled onto the ground next to the fire he’d built. Copperpot was still hauling wood.
“You might say that,” he replied. “We’ve been together for about ten years now, ever since my parents were killed and the Comanche took me in.”
Her face tightened. “I can understand that. Daniel and I had only been married about a month before we headed west. But we grew up in the same little town in Illinois. I’d known him since I can remember. We were actually heading to Oregon, but we realized we couldn’t make it through the mountains before winter, so we stopped and built a small cabin to stay out the winter in.” Her hard blue eyes softened for a moment. “It wasn’t much, but Daniel said it was a good trial run for building our permanent home once we got to Oregon next summer. That was, until those outlaws killed him.” Tears trickled down her face. They were the first ones Trey had ever seen the rugged woman shed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do once we find that last outlaw.”
“We’ll see what’s happening by then.” Trey walked over and set a hand on her shoulder. “Who knows what opportunities will arise between now and then?”
She shook his hand off. “For all we know, I won’t survive us killing him. But I will see him dead.” All softness vanished from her face, and she wiped away the tears with a savage wave of her hand. “Thank you, for you and Gray Talon letting me tag along. I would’ve followed if you hadn’t.”
Trey stepped back and set another branch on the fire. “You’ve proven to be very adept at killing white men. Our Comanche tribesmen would be pleased.”
“You consider yourself a Comanche?” she asked, skillfully changing the subject.
“I guess I do. Like I’ve said, they took me in when I needed them. I remember my parents but can’t remember anything other than living in the cabin, just our family out in the wilds near Bald Peak. I’m sure I have grandparents and other family somewhere, but the Comanche gave me a home and a new family. Their way of life has become mine.” He fingered the cotton shirt he reluctantly wore. “Even these clothes feel strange to me. I’m used to my buckskins, just like what Talon wears. The only reason I bought these back in Cheyenne was so I can fit in and hopefully get information from the whites up here to help us find the dragon’s daughter.”
“I can see you wearing buckskins. You don’t move comfortably in these clothes.”
“They’re too light. They feel like they aren’t going to be able to keep the winter out when it comes.”
She laughed. It wasn’t a full-on happy laugh. “When we get to Cheyenne and get these heads traded in for some more cash….” She paused. “Well, I guess we don’t need more cash after what we took from their cabins. But, anyway, I’ll take you shopping—Gray Talon too—and we’ll get you guys outfitted for winter. I hear the winters up this way can be harsh, but they were pretty bad in Illinois, so I know what you’ll need… at least as far as white people clothes go.”
Trey nodded. “I’d appreciate that. We didn’t have much in the way of trade goods when we arrived in Cheyenne. We traded three buffalo hides for these clothes and my pistol.”
Her eyes grew large and angry. “Three buffalo hides? Let me see that pistol of yours again.” He handed her the pistol. She turned it over in her hands and shook her head. “I’ve not seen work like this before. The metal feels almost too light to be of much good. How does it shoot?”
“I’ve done a little target practice with it on the ride from Cheyenne. It does all right. I’m not used to pistols. Mostly I just use my dad’s rifle.”
“My father was a gunsmith. That’s where I learned to shoot so well. He used to experiment with new alloys and such, but I’ve never seen anything like this.” She aimed the pistol at a tree just beyond their camp. The pistol rang out as she fired. Sarah nodded, then fired off three more rounds. “Not bad. The sight is true, and the bullets hit what I was aiming at. Okay, maybe you didn’t get taken in the trade, but I personally wouldn’t have gone more than two hides. That trader will probably ship the hides back east and get a really high price for them. There’s still a large demand for quality buffalo hides, and the supply is falling off. A lot of the traders are switching to bringing in bone meal instead. The farmers are using it for fertilizer.” She grinned. “It’s amazing what you learn when you keep your ears open, and your father is a blacksmith with lots of customers heading west.”
She handed him the pistol, and he slid it back into his holster with a disgusted sigh. “The whites are even finding a use for the bones of the buffalo. I guess they won’t stop until they are all gone.”
“You need to be careful talking like that,” Sarah scolded. “You’re white on the outside, even if you’re red inside. Most people won’t understand you talking about the rest of us whites like that.”
“I guess you’re right. It’s just hard getting past the ‘us and them’ attitude.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll be happy to point it out to you as I see potential problems. We might need to fit in around here to find this dragon’s daughter. You know, I didn’t even know dragons existed for real until I met you guys.”
“I just recently remembered meeting the dragon of Bald Peak. She did some kind of magic on me to keep me from remembering about the men killing my parents. She thought she was being kind. I guess, in a way, she was. If I had remembered, I probably would’ve been chasing out after
them years ago, before I would’ve been able to do much against them. I’d have gotten myself and Talon killed.”
“So what was she like?”
Trey paced slowly on the other side of the fire from her. “She was very beautiful, with long green hair and a faint green cast to her skin.”
“So you do know what a beautiful woman looks like?”
He paused and stared at her, trying to understand where her comment came from. “Of course I know what a beautiful woman looks like. Why would you ask that?”
She shrugged. “I just figured since you and Gray Talon are… together, that you weren’t interested in women.”
“I’m not, and neither is he. But I still recognize beauty when I see it. It would be hard not to. We’ve both been courted by some of the most prized beauties in the Comanche tribe, me because of my magic, and him because he can assume multiple shapes. To this day there are still women who don’t take no for an answer from us. We’ve talked about letting some woman bear our children, but don’t think we could deal with the jealousy in our tipi that she would have toward us. It wouldn’t be fair to her or us. Plus there are plenty of Comanche children that will benefit from our knowledge. It is just our seed that will not be spread.”
She glared across the fire at him. “You would let some woman bear your children. You make it sound like it would be a privilege. That tells me how much you know about women.”
Her words confused him. Trey was training to be shaman when Singing Crow passed. The old man had taught him much about women, men, and children. “I don’t understand. Wouldn’t giving a woman what she wants and allowing her to bear our children be a good thing?”
Sarah shook her head. “Why do you think that men and women get married?”
