Ride the Free Wind
Page 25
The officer leaned back in his chair. “I suggest you tell us the whole story, Baker. If you intend to volunteer for this war and join our ranks, you’d best be honest with us now.”
Baker sighed. “All right. I’ll tell you again. This Arapaho woman we met on the way here, she told us about a white woman that was bein’ held captive by the Cheyenne. She said that the woman was so brainwashed by the bucks and so ashamed to face her own people again that it might be hard to get her away from them to help her. Well, we figured it was our duty to help the poor woman if we could. So, on our way here we checked out all the Cheyenne we could, hid out and scouted them, you know? Then, this here one band, we watched them awhile and we was sure we saw a real light-skinned woman with them. So we rode in, thinkin’ the Cheyenne would hand her over quick enough if they knew they’d be in a heap of trouble and had been found out. But it was true, like the Arapaho woman told us. She’d been so brainwashed that she done stuck up for the Cheyenne—pointed a rifle at us and everything! Said she was there of her own free will and wanted to stay! They threatened us, sir. I think them bucks would have scalped us all if we’d of tried to take her out of there.”
The officer pressed his fingers together and stared up at a clock. “Mmm-hmm.” He shifted his eyes to Baker. “Well, Baker, I’d say if she’s apparently satisfied where she is, then we’d best leave it alone for now. We have a war with Mexico to worry about, not one with Indians. That will most likely come later. The woman is probably some kind of half-breed anyway. Since we’ve had no reports of missing white women and are presently having no major problems with the Cheyenne, we will stay out of it.”
“But, sir—”
“I said to forget it, Mr. Baker!” the man barked. “Your job as a volunteer is to muster out of here in two days and head south with a garrison that will be going to Santa Fe to reinforce Kearny once his men take the city. You came here to join up with the Mexican war, not to go chasing over the plains after some white squaw, even if she does appeal to you.”
Baker looked down sheepishly. “Yes, sir.”
“You should be glad. You joined up to see some action. You’ll see a lot more when you head to Santa Fe than you would running around chasing after a white woman who probably isn’t even white! You’re dismissed, Baker!”
Baker scowled at them, but decided to push the matter was useless. He rose and trudged through the door. The officer leaned forward in his chair and lit a pipe. “What do you think of that story, Windy?” he asked the scout.
“Hard to say, sir. Like I said, we ain’t had a lot of trouble … and no reports of stolen women. And it just ain’t like the Cheyenne to do that anyway.”
The officer puffed at his pipe. “Well, spread the word just the same. I don’t want anyone to go riding into any Indian camps and threatening anyone. Just have people keep their eyes and ears open at the trading posts. And it wouldn’t hurt to ask a few questions when you’re out there and run into small bands of Cheyenne.”
“I’ll do that, sir. But it will be awhile before I run into any real small parties. They’re all headed up to meet with the Sioux for the summer ceremonies. There’ll be a hell of a lot of them together, and I don’t aim to go ridin’ into anything like that. They get pretty worked up over the Sun Dance and all. They get mighty touchy—start feelin’ their oats, if you know what I mean, celebratin’ their manhood and all.”
The officer grinned. “I understand, Windy. Just lay low and see what you can find out.” He leaned back again. “I see bad times ahead, Windy. Bad times for the Indians and for us soldiers, and the settlers, too … Seems like a big enough country, Windy. But I see it growing smaller every day.”
Thirteen
Abbie started awake from a deep sleep, shivering and sweating. She looked around the tipi, dimly lit by the coals of a fire. Her nightmare brought tears to her eyes, and she heard Swift Arrow call to her.
“What is wrong?” he asked her. “You called out in your sleep.”
Her breath came in short gasps so at first she could not reply; for she was still filled with the terror of the dream, and a whimper rose from her throat. Swift Arrow waited no longer, but went inside, without her invitation, to find her sitting wide-eyed on her bed of robes, looking around at the floor as though something were after her. Swift Arrow went to her side, grasping her arms. She choked out another cry.
“Get them away!” she murmured. Swift Arrow looked around the tipi.
“Get what away?” He shook her lightly. “Wake up, Abigail. You only dream.”
She looked at him with frightened eyes that began to focus on their true target, and she finally realized she had indeed been dreaming. But there was something about it that remained ominous to her.
“Snakes!” she whispered. “There were … snakes … all around me! Hissing at me! Crawling over me!”
He frowned. “This is a bad dream. What do you think it means?”
“I… don’t know,” she answered, searching his eyes. “But I … I feel it has something to do with Zeke!” she whimpered, her eyes filling with tears. “He’s in trouble, Swift Arrow. I just know it! Something terrible has happened to him!”
He squeezed her arms. “If you feel this is so, my sister, then I will call the elders together and we will hold a prayer council. I will gather the most honored ones and the priests, and we will smoke the pipe and offer prayers to all of the spirits to watch over our brother and bring him back to us. Together we have much power. We will send it to him, and he will be strong!”
She nodded, and he left to summon the elders and the priests and the most honored dog soldiers. Abigail had had a dream. Zeke was in danger. They must help him.
Zeke drew on all his reserve strength and discipline to keep from moving. He even kept his breathing as light as possible. For hours he lay in the dark pit, listening to the hissing all around him. Once he even felt something crawl over his legs, but he knew if he did not move, the snakes would have no reason to attack him. He thought of himself as one of the rocks and prayed to the spirits to help him melt into the boulders and become a part of the earth, for wasn’t he one with the land after all?
“Give me courage, Maheo!” he prayed silently. “Fill me with your great strength, and remember that in my vision I was protected by the great eagle! Help me now, my Father, in my moment of great need!”
“Ho-shuh,” came the voice again out of the darkness. “Be still. Be confident!”
He felt a warmth flooding over him, and he could see Abbie as vividly as if she were standing beside him. “Ho-shuh,” came her voice. “You can overcome this, Zeke. You must, for I wait for you.”
“Abbie!” he whispered, tears filling his eyes. He heard a hissing near his ear, and he did not whisper again. But he cried out to her from within. He could see her standing in a field of green prairie grass, smiling, looking lovely in her doeskin tunic. He felt warm again and strangely calm. He closed his eyes and let his body relax, releasing tension in his muscles from head to toe. If he was to defeat this pit of snakes, he must be calm and not panic. He had to remember that he was a man, and that the snake was the lowest form of life. Snakes could never conquer man, especially not a warrior who had suffered the Sun Dance.
For hours he lay there, praying and feeling warmth and power flooding through him, while the night lingered and morning seemed forever far, far away. But a shaft of light finally filtered through the hole above him, and Zeke began moving his eyes to look around, keeping his head still.
He saw that he lay on a large, flat rock that jutted up from an even deeper pit. Maheo had seen fit to keep him from falling even deeper. Zeke could tell that if he had gone all the way down, there would have been no hope of ever climbing back out. This was good. He could tell by the light and by a brush of warm air that the exit hole above was not so far that he could not climb to it. The problem would be avoiding snakes on the way, but at least, he was not at the bottom of the pit, where most of the snakes congregated.
All around him he could see nothing but the deeper pit. He could not be certain just how big the rock he lay on was, but he sensed that should he move too quickly, he would go over the edge. Without changing his position and thereby risking snake bite, he could not know what was behind him. But he would not lie there and die and rot in that stinking hole with rattlers as his graveside partners! He had to get out! Even if he was bitten as he climbed, he would have time to reach the top before the venom took hold. At least that way he would die above ground, and not in this devil’s pit, where evil spirits lurked, waiting to rob his soul and take him to places where his soul and body would be forever tormented. He would not die such a death!
He summoned all of his courage and raised himself ever so slowly to a sitting position, feeling the power of the spirits with him. He winced with pain, for his bones ached from the fall and from spending a whole night in the cold, damp pit with no clothing. He took another look around him, now able to see what had been behind him. A ledge jutted out, nearly touching the rock on which he sat, and on it was another rattler. Its head was straight up and its tail began shaking.
“So you are the one who hissed in my ear, are you?” he said to the snake. “I honor the spirit that controls you, oh master of the underworld. But your world is not for me, I am afraid. I ask you to let me leave.”
The snake’s tail continued to rattle, and its tongue flicked in and out with lightning speed. Zeke stared at the creature for several minutes, concentrating on the power of Maheo, and suddenly the rattler slithered farther back under another ledge where Zeke could not see it.
Zeke swallowed and breathed deeply, trying to stay in control. He turned slowly to look at the snake that was curled beside his knife. “Good morning to you, black spirit,” he said to the diamond-backed monster. “I don’t suppose you will let me have my knife?”
The snake hissed, and Zeke scowled.
“That is what I was afraid of,” he said. He sighed. “Then I must tell you that I intend to take my weapon from you, whether you like it or not. We shall see, master of demons, who is the fastest!”
He breathed deeply again. “Guide me, Maheo,” he whispered. He set his eyes on the knife, staring at it, gauging in his mind just how far away it was, concentrating on that one spot. He had to move like lightning and he had to get a sure grip, or the weapon would fall into the pit below. He waited another moment until the rattler beside it let its head sink down slightly. Then he moved!
In an instant Zeke’s arm was out and his hand gripped the buffalo hide that was wrapped around the jawbone handle of the knife. Something brushed his wrist, and he thought he’d been bitten. But in that fraction of a second, the knife had been retrieved! He gripped it tightly in his hand and then dared to look down, his body trembling with dread. He saw no fang marks, and when he looked across at the ledge, the snake was gone. It had apparently tried to strike him and had fallen from the ledge when it did so.
Zeke breathed a sigh of relief and slowly sat up straighter, looking around at the ledges above and taking more deep breaths to help clear his mind. It would be easy to climb out of the pit using the ledges, but it was impossible to tell which ones might hold a snake; and if he slipped or a ledge broke under his weight, he would be cast into the deeper pit below, where he was sure to die almost instantly from a hundred snake bites. That would be a gruesome death indeed. He tried to remain calm, remembering again the spirits that guided him and the strength and cunning only they could give him.
“I sing to you, Maheo!” he said softly. He got to his knees and began to chant the Cheyenne death song. If he was to fall into the pit, he would go down singing the great Cheyenne song of courage.
“Nothing lives long,” he chanted in the Cheyenne tongue. “Nothing stays here, except the earth and the mountains.”
He got to his feet and continued to chant softly. “Nothing lives long, nothing stays here, except the earth and the mountains.”
He took a deep breath and reached out for a ledge on the wall of the pit. He got a firm hold with his left hand. “Nothing lives long, nothing stays here,” he chanted again. “Except the earth and the mountains.”
He put his knife in his mouth, clamping his teeth down on the blade so that his other hand would be free for climbing. Since he wore no clothes, every part of his body would be exposed to the snakes, which only made the danger worse. Every inching step upward would be filled with terrible danger, still he had no choice but to try. He hummed the chant for courage as he placed one bare foot on a ledge and pulled himself up.
Hisses seemed to come from every crack and hole, and Zeke’s body broke out in a drenching sweat. He continued to hum, putting a foot on the next ledge up, then boosting himself and grasping a higher ledge with his left hand.
He summoned all of his prayer power to ask the spirits to keep the ledges from breaking off. As he boosted himself one step higher, a rattler stared him in the face. It reared back to strike, but quickly Zeke grabbed the knife from his mouth and plunged it into the back of the snake’s head. Venom squirted onto his chest, and wincing with nausea, Zeke thought that he preferred killing a man enemy to killing these smelly demons of the pits. The piece of rock, to which only his left hand clung, started to crumble. Quickly he yanked the knife from the snake and put it back in his mouth, tasting snake’s blood and groaning at the horror of it as he quickly grabbed hold of another ledge with his right hand.
Already he was close to the top of the hole, and he speculated that Dancing Moon and the others must have thought he had fallen all the way to the bottom. They never would have left him so close to the top if they had known, but would have found a way to push his body farther down. This thought gave him courage, for again Maheo had smiled upon him by keeping Dancing Moon and the others from double-checking to be sure he had fallen all the way down. Now he knew he was meant to live! He was meant to reap his revenge!
He climbed faster, shunning all fear of the snakes, scrambling toward the blessed sunlight and fresh air and freedom! Higher and faster he climbed, while rocks broke off and crumbled to the awful pit below, and finally he broke forth into the wonderful, warm sunshine!
How he wanted to cry out with his joy! But he knew it was possible Dancing Moon and the others were still about. He grasped the knife from his mouth and began slithering like the snakes he had just left, moving silently across the hardened earth, not caring that the stones dug at his body. It felt wonderful to have the earth cutting at his body, for it meant he was above the ground! He was free and alive, and cries of joy and laughter pushed at his throat for release. But he stifled them until he reached a large boulder behind which he could take a moment to compose himself and determine whether anyone was still around before deciding what his next move would be. He was alive, and Dancing Moon would pay!
Morning broke across the Black Hills—Paha-Sapa the Sioux called them. It was beautiful country, this place where Abigail was camped with the Cheyenne and Arapaho, waiting for the arrival of more Sioux. But this morning Abigail was not concerned with the Sioux or the Sun Dance. She was concerned only with the breakthrough of the sun, for just as it broke, an eagle flew above them, circling and calling.
“Look!” Deer Slayer called out. “It is a sign! It is a good sign. Lone Eagle lives!”
Abbie looked up, and the eagle cried out again, circling so low that it cast its shadow over the circle of praying elders and priests.
“It is good,” Swift Arrow told her. “Our prayers have helped Zeke.”
Abbie covered her face and bent over to smell the sweet earth, for its smell made her think of Zeke’s earthy, manly scent. “Thank you,
God!” she whispered, her heart feeling lighter. She prayed that the eagle truly was a good sign. Someone touched her hair.
“You should not weep,” she heard Deer Slayer telling her. “This is a good sign.”
“I only weep with joy,” she replied.
He patted her head. “This we understand. There is no shame in such weeping, my daughter.”
Zeke crawled to the Mexicans’ campsite to see that they had broken camp and left. His buckskins still lay near the spot where he had been tied to the wagon wheel. He looked around cautiously, his all-seeing eyes scanning the cliffs and canyons around him. No living thing was about, except for the hidden snakes.
He stood up and spit. Then he vomited at the thought of the snake’s blood in his mouth. He picked up some sand and, rubbing it on his chest to get rid of the venom, walked to get his clothing. He winced with pain as he walked, for he still ached badly from Dancing Moon’s kick. He hoped she had not put an end to his ability to plant more life in Abigail’s belly.
He tied on his loincloth, again wincing with pain. He pulled on his buckskins and his deerskin shirt. His head pained him, he felt dizzy from the superficial bullet wound on his forehead, and every bone in his body ached; but he knew he must start walking right away if he was to catch up with Dancing Moon and the others. And he most certainly intended to do so. Now that he had survived the pit of snakes, he could survive anything!
He noticed that someone had carelessly left behind a tin cup. He hurried over to it and discovered to his joy, that it was three-quarters full of cold coffee. He took a mouthful to rinse his mouth and spit it out, then drank the rest. He threw down the cup and looked around for Grimey’s body, which he intended to cover with rocks before he left. But the body was nowhere to be seen, and he realized the Mexicans must have thrown it into a pit to hide it. It was agonizing to know that he was responsible for the death of his good and faithful friend.