* * *
Little Bull, like most of the other warriors, did not leave his bed until the sun was high in the morning sky. The inside of his mouth felt as if it had grown fur during the night, and he had a terrible thirst for water. But after a long drink from the water bag, his head began to spin and he had to sit to let it settle down. After a while, he was able to stand again. Once he was convinced that he was steady enough, he left the lodge and made his way down to the creek, cursing the evil whiskey that Plum had brought the night before. Last night he had craved more and more of Plum’s firewater, not caring what the cost was. Now he felt foolish and angry at the same time. This was not the first time Plum and the three other white men had cheated him. The more he thought about his dealings with the hatchet-faced trapper, the more it made his head hurt. He decided to put his anger aside until he could think more clearly.
Many of the men of the tribe were at the creek when Little Bull arrived. He peeled off his shirt and leggings, and wearing only his breechclout, plunged into the frigid water, thrashing his arms about and kicking his feet. It was a custom of the Blackfoot men to take a morning plunge, to clean themselves and to condition their bodies to withstand the bitter cold of the winter hunts. But this day found most of the men of the village seeking only to clear their heads of the cobwebs from the night of celebration.
When Little Bull felt he could stand the chilly water no longer, he climbed out and dried himself, then sat down on a flat rock beside the creek. In a moment he was joined by Two Kills.
“My wife said that Plum brought the white woman down to the creek this morning to make her clean herself,” Two Kills said. “She said the woman had been badly beaten.” Little Bull nodded, and Two Kills continued, “These white men are evil. They say they are our friends, but how many horses did you trade for the worthless firewater?” Little Bull did not answer. “No friend would cheat me to get my horses.” There was a pause, then, “How long are we going to permit these white men to remain in our village?”
Little Bull did not answer his friend immediately. He was thinking about what Two Kills had said. He had no more fondness for Plum than Two Kills did. Yet Plum and his partners had supplied Little Bull’s warriors with guns and powder, and Little Bull hesitated to cut off that source of supply. His Blackfeet were at war with every trading post in the territory, and Plum had been a useful supplier. Still, he was a filthy and treacherous man. Little Bull would like to be rid of him—and the dangerous one called Crown. He realized that he had not answered Two Kills’s question, so he said, “As long as they can bring us guns.”
When Little Bull sat before the fire later that afternoon, eating the boiled meat that his wife, Red Sky, had prepared, he thought again of the four white men in his camp. Calling Red Sky to him, he asked, “Have you seen the white woman today?”
“Yes,” Red Sky answered. “I saw her this morning when the hatchet-faced one led her to the creek.”
“What are the people saying about her?”
Red Sky shrugged indifferently. “Nothing. She was badly beaten. I think he will kill her pretty soon.”
Little Bull considered this for a few moments. It was of no concern to him whether the white woman lived or died. Still, it troubled him some that Plum would treat the woman so cruelly. Blackfoot men had occasionally captured white women and taken them as wives. These women were usually treated the same as Blackfoot wives. Little Bull did not understand why Plum didn’t treat the woman as his wife—or just go ahead and kill her. He decided that Plum’s chief interest in the woman was merely to satisfy his sadistic urges.
* * *
In the plain-hide lodge on the outer circle of the camp, Jamie was not certain whether this assault upon her was the second or third, for she had been unconscious for most of the initial night of terror. This time she had made only a feeble effort to resist, giving it up completely when he added a few fresh welts to her already battered face. In order to endure the nightmare, she tried to go totally limp, as if she were dead, her mind leaving her body and the present behind. This lack of movement on her part was infuriating to Plum, and he threatened her life if she did not respond. Still she made no response—death would only bring relief from her suffering. After a few minutes of mauling and pawing the helpless girl, Plum lost the edge on his lust and withdrew.
He went outside, where his three partners were seated around the fire, roasting some meat over the flames. Plum grabbed the willow limb that Ox was holding and pulled the strip of meat from it. Tossing the hot venison back and forth in his hands to cool it, he settled himself before the fire and proceeded to tear at the meat with his teeth.
“Ah . . . damn, Plum,” Ox complained, “that was just about done.”
“There’s plenty of meat. Cook another one,” Plum replied. The simpleminded giant puckered his lips as if about to protest but said nothing. He cut another strip of raw meat and held it over the flames.
Crown sat across from Plum and studied him with a cold eye. Plum had what Crown wanted, and Crown’s mind would usually fester over something like that, knowing no peace until he got what he wanted. He considered simply killing Plum and taking the girl. As he sat there glaring at his partner across the coals of the fire, he thought about the consequences that might follow. There was the matter of Ox and Sowers—where would they stand? With him or with Plum? He had no qualms about killing all three, but he didn’t like the odds if they decided to side with Plum. As far as the Indians were concerned, he doubted if Little Bull cared whether the white men killed each other off or not. There was a good possibility, however, that once the killing started, the Blackfeet might decide to go ahead and clear all the white men out. He made up his mind that it would be best to wait until they were away from the Blackfoot camp, but he scowled at the thought that he would have to bide his time.
“What are you lookin’ so glum about, Crown?” Sowers asked, as he blew on a strip of sizzling deer meat.
“None of your damn business,” Crown snapped back.
Sowers jerked his head back as if he were dodging a punch. “I swear! You’ve been cross as a she-bear for the last several days. Must be the cold weather settin’ in.”
Plum, watching the two with a hint of a smirk on his lips, said, “Crown’s got somethin’ else eatin’ at his liver. Ain’tcha, Crown?” Crown didn’t answer. Plum continued to goad his sullen partner. “Crown’s been eyeballing my woman in there, thinkin’ ’bout how it would be with a white woman.”
Crown’s face grew dark as a thundercloud as he continued to stare at Plum through eyes narrow with anger. Though he remained silent, he was thinking, Keep talking, you son of a bitch. Talk yourself into an early grave. He made up his mind right then that Plum was a dead man as soon as he caught him with his back turned.
Plum silently measured Crown with his eyes. He had read the signs in Crown’s disposition since the raid on the Kutenai camp, and he had seen the man fester over something before. He knew Crown wouldn’t let it go—he would let it build until he exploded. Only this time, Plum would be the object of his rage. Knowing that, Plum purposely continued to goad him, trying to bring Crown’s anger to a head while there were plenty of people around. Crown would have to make a move or back down. Plum hoped he would make a move toward him. He had a cocked pistol under his leg, and he would settle his hash for him in short order. Crown’s share of the plunder would make a right nice bonus for the three remaining partners.
But Crown was not as foolish as Plum had hoped. He had already considered his odds and decided that this was not the time for a showdown. In addition, the pistol almost hidden under Plum’s leg had not escaped his notice. No, he told himself, the showdown would be on his terms, not Plum’s. “I’m goin’ to see to my horses,” he finally stated and got up to leave.
Sowers breathed a little sigh of relief as Crown walked away. He was still holding a piece of roasted meat in his hand, having forgotten about it while he watched the war of wills between Plum and Crow
n. Unlike his sidekick Ox, who was happily chewing away, oblivious to the friction between the two cougars, Sowers could see a violent confrontation coming. It had been coming for a while now—Crown was getting more and more edgy every day.
The obvious way to defuse the situation was for Plum to let Crown share the woman. He had done it before, but that was with Indian women, and Plum must have wanted to keep this one around for a spell. Crown was hard on women. He had left two of them dead—the Cree girl up above the Medicine Line and a Pend d’Oreille woman near the Missouri. Sowers reckoned that Plum must be thinking about those two and he wasn’t ready to have Crown fly into one of his rages and slit the white woman’s throat. It was coming, though, the showdown between the two of them. When it happened, Sowers hoped they would kill each other off. He and Ox would be happy to take the leavings and bid farewell to this band of Blackfeet for good.
* * *
Inside the tipi, Jamie painfully forced herself to get to her feet. She felt dirty, and while she wanted to go to the creek to clean her body, she knew that she had been soiled inside her soul and would never be completely cleansed of that stain. Her head throbbing, her face marked by trails of countless tears, she determined to rid herself of thoughts of suicide. For during the savage, bruising attacks on her body, her fright had turned into a numbing anger. She now had a reason to live—to somehow take revenge on the man who had so brutally destroyed her life. She resolved to withstand the beatings and the assaults and determined that Plum would pay for what he had done to her. What did it matter anymore what abuse her body endured? There were no more thoughts of Trace McCall and a possible future that might include him. Her mind had been scarred forever. This was no time to think of dying. This was a time to reach deep down inside her battered soul and summon any strength that remained there. Determined now, she straightened herself and threw the door flap back.
The three men still seated by the fire were startled to see Jamie suddenly appear in the doorway of the lodge, a blanket wrapped around her. Plum’s eyes immediately narrowed as he looked for some sign of treachery from the girl. Sowers, a grin plastered across his chubby cheeks, leered at the battered woman. Even though he felt no sympathy for her misery, he was still mildly shocked to see the evidence of Plum’s physical abuse. Ox smiled his foolish smile and said, “Good morning, Mrs. Plum.” His simple greeting held no intent to be sarcastic.
Looking from Plum’s suspicious glare, to Sowers’s openmouthed smirk, and finally to the blank gaze of innocence on the huge man-child’s face, she endeavored to maintain a fearless expression. Her eye caught sight of the roasted piece of venison in Sowers’s hand and she felt a sudden pain in her stomach that reminded her that she had not eaten for two days. Plum watched her closely as she reached out toward the piece of meat.
“Git your own damn meat,” Sowers snapped and pulled his hand away.
Ox immediately jumped to his feet. He pulled a piece of roasting deer meat off the willow branch that had served as a spit and offered it to Jamie. “Here’s you somethin’ to eat, Mrs. Plum.”
Jamie cocked her head slightly to look into the simple giant’s eyes, her own left eye still swollen enough to make sight difficult on that side. Reading no deception there, she took the piece of meat and began to chew it furiously. Ox smiled his satisfaction.
Plum watched the incident with suspicion, expecting some sudden attempt to escape. But Jamie seemed intent upon satisfying her hunger and nothing more. Finally he surmised that the woman’s spirit had been broken and she was too frightened to do anything that might call his wrath down upon her again. He smiled to himself, amused that Ox referred to her as Mrs. Plum.
“I want to clean myself,” Jamie stated boldly.
Plum’s eyebrows raised in surprise to hear her speak. “Oh, you do, do you?” He stared at her while he thought about her request, considering the potential for any tricks on her part. He decided there was little risk in letting the woman clean up. She stood waiting for his permission. “All right,” he said at last, “you can go down to the creek yonder.” Then he pointed toward the flat expanse of treeless terrain between the creek and the hills. “You see that open land there? I can set right here and put a bullet between your shoulder blades before you ever get to them hills.”
“I won’t try to run,” Jamie stated frankly.
“Damn right, you won’t,” Plum fired back. “Now, go on. Ox, you go with her.” He was confident that Ox was no threat to try anything with his woman. “You watch her, but you keep your hands off her.” Ox nodded eagerly.
Jamie looked from Plum’s scowl to the open face of the bearlike Ox and came to the same conclusion that Plum had reached. This simpleminded hulk was probably no threat to her. She was thankful that his mind was like that of a child, for if he harbored any lustful thoughts toward her, she thought she would probably be crushed under his attack. She turned and started walking toward the creek, Ox following happily along behind.
The morning air was cold, and the water was even colder, but Jamie didn’t mind. It felt good on her bruised face and arms, numbing the tender cuts that were too fresh to have started healing yet. Ox sat on the bank and smiled broadly as he watched her bathe. His smile turned to a frown when he saw the bleeding start again on her facial wounds.
“He beat you bad,” Ox sympathized.
“Yes,” she answered softly, then paused. “Turn around. I have to clean myself down there.”
His smile returned. “Plum said I should watch.”
She didn’t bother to ask again. She could see that he had no intention of turning around. After what she had been through, it didn’t matter a great deal, anyway. He had seen everything there was to see, and she supposed it was no different than exposing herself before a dog or a horse. To make it a little less public, she waded farther out into the icy water, until it was up to her thighs. Then she sat down and hurriedly completed her bath. When she came shivering out of the cold water, Ox handed her the blanket she had brought. She dried herself as best she could with it and returned to the fire, Ox following dutifully behind.
* * *
After that morning Jamie was granted a bit more freedom during the daytime when Plum was not concerned that she might escape. Still, he was wary enough to continue to tie her at night after he was finished with her. Jamie endured her nightmare, using the method that had saved her sanity before as she forced her mind to separate itself from her body. She prayed nightly that there would come a time when he did not tie her and she would have an opportunity to take her revenge.
The bad blood between Plum and Crown still simmered, and Jamie was aware that she was the cause of it. She shuddered to think of her fate if the two men finally fought over her and Crown was the victor. One evil might be as bad as the other, but Jamie knew that Crown lusted for more than satisfaction for his animalistic desires. He had a bloodlust. She was convinced that he would kill her.
* * *
Little Bull sat in front of his lodge, talking to Two Kills and Medicine Horse. His wife, Red Sky, brought a bowl of boiled meat and set it down before the three most influential men of the village. The discussion that was taking place was to decide if it was time to move into winter camp. Little Bull was of the opinion that it was past time to go. “This time last winter, we were already settled near the headwaters of the Yellowstone. That was a good camp. I think we should return there.”
Medicine Horse, being the eldest of the three, nodded solemnly and said, “It would be good to return there—if the Sioux are not in the vicinity.” He drew deeply from the clay pipe, then handed it to Two Kills. “The winter is late in coming this time, but I think the snow will come before two more sleeps.”
Two Kills was about to comment when their talk was interrupted by a commotion near the outer circle of lodges. They paused while they looked for the cause. In a few moments they saw Black Otter approaching them. He was leading his daughter by the arm, and a small crowd was following them. As they neared the three
men sitting there, Little Bull could see blood around the girl’s mouth. He got to his feet to meet Black Otter.
Fully irate, Black Otter began railing at once. “Look at my daughter!” He grabbed her chin roughly and pushed it up so Little Bull could see the girl’s bleeding mouth. Before Little Bull could ask what had happened to her, Black Otter exclaimed, “That white dog, the evil one, tried to force himself on her! Look at her mouth!”
Little Bull was immediately incensed. He did not have to ask which white man had assaulted Black Otter’s daughter. “The evil one” could only mean Crown. He knew Black Otter had come to him for justice because of the fear that he, like most of the camp, had of Crown, believing the man to be an evil spirit.
When Black Otter calmed down to the point where he could relate the incident that had taken place, Little Bull learned the details of the story. Bright Cloud and some of the other women went to the creek to fill the water pouches. They saw Crown sitting on a log near the creek, but they paid him no mind until he started to talk to them. He said he would bring Bright Cloud gifts if she would lie with him. She rebuffed his advances, saying that she was a virtuous girl and had no desire to lie with one as filthy as he. Crown became angry and grabbed her. He tried to pull her into the bushes, but her friends came to her aid, pulling back on her arms and flailing Crown with sticks and pebbles. Furious, he lashed out at them, knocking one of them down while he kept his hold on Bright Cloud’s arm. She struggled to get away, but he threw her down and got on top of her, trying to pull her skirt up over her leggings. When the other women continued to pelt him with rocks, he finally had to retreat. But before he did, he struck Bright Cloud hard across the mouth with his fist.
Mountain Hawk Page 11
