The Hostile Trail

by Charles G. West

  Anticipating her question, Red Hawk said, “Cooter Martin said Jack Black Dog is crazy in the head—said he aims to take you back.”

  Molly shook her head in frantic despair. The thought of Jack Black Dog stalking her brought back the terror she had felt when her mother and stepfather were blatantly shot down before her eyes. How could this nightmare continue? She remembered the breed’s threats and his sneering, lecherous stares when she was Iron Claw’s captive. It seemed he was always close by, watching her whenever she was taken outside the war chief’s lodge.

  “Don’t worry,” Red Hawk said, in an effort to reassure her. “Me and Slaughter, we’ll get him. You just stay close to the doctor’s house like Slaughter said.”

  Her fear overshadowed by the thought that Matt was near, she repeatedly signed his name. When Red Hawk appeared puzzled, she signed that she wanted to see him.

  Red Hawk cocked his head to one side, obviously uncertain about the wisdom of her request. “Slaughter said you stay close to fort.”

  Showing a spark of anger as she became frustrated with her limited knowledge of sign language, she tried to convey her thoughts to the Crow warrior, but he was clearly confused. She pounded her chest adamantly, then pointed to him, then back at herself while signing Matt’s name. Finally, after she repeated the motions several times, the meaning of her frantic gestures dawned upon him, and he asked, “If I don’t take you to Slaughter, you gonna go by yourself?” With a great sigh, she nodded her head. “I don’t know . . .” He hesitated, thinking of Slaughter’s instructions to him. She placed her hand on his arm, her eyes pleading with him. Finally, against his better judgment, he relented. “Tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll meet you at the stables when the sun is straight overhead.”

  Chapter 16

  True to his word, Red Hawk was waiting at the stables when the sun approached high noon the next day. He would have already had Molly’s horse saddled but for the two troopers on stable duty. The peace talks had started that morning, and since he was not well known to the soldiers, they looked upon him with a suspicious eye. Neither of them had been at Fort Laramie for longer than a month, so consequently, to them Red Hawk was just another Indian. Their heads had been properly filled with warnings that Indians, no matter the tribe, were constantly looking for opportunities to steal horses. After several attempts to persuade the soldiers that the mousy dun belonged to a young lady who was staying at the surgeon’s house and that she would soon be there to ride it, he gave up and sat down by the stable door to wait.

  He didn’t have to wait long. He had no sooner settled himself comfortably when he saw Molly walking hurriedly toward the stables. He didn’t get up right away, for she was still some hundred yards away, striding purposefully past the cavalry barracks. Watching her now, he thought back to the first time he had seen her. Frail and frightened, like an injured rabbit, she had clung to Slaughter, her arms clasped tightly around his neck, while he carried her from Iron Claw’s tipi. Red Hawk shook his head, thinking of that night. She was still slight in appearance, but he had learned that she was made of a tough moral fiber that could prove to be troublesome. For evidence of that, one had to look no further than this very morning.

  The realization of that caused him to have second thoughts about having agreed to take her to Slaughter. Slaughter had specifically stressed that Molly should stay close to the surgeon’s house, and he would most likely be angry with Red Hawk for allowing her to ride down the river to find him. He would have to explain that she was determined to go, with or without him. “Waugh,” he growled, wishing he had not told her where Slaughter had camped.

  She waved a greeting to the Crow scout when she saw him by the door. He nodded in response, got to his feet as she swept past him, and followed her into the stable to the two troopers mucking out stalls. Upon glancing up to see the lady, both soldiers pulled themselves to attention. “Ma’am,” one of them greeted her.

  “She say she want her horse,” Red Hawk spoke for her. Molly nodded in confirmation. The trooper looked from the Indian to the young lady, then back again at Red Hawk. “The gray pony in the pen,” Red Hawk said. “Like I already told you.”

  Still not sure if he should permit a civilian to take a horse, the private stated his concern. “Well, we can’t just let everybody come walking up and ride off with a horse. You understand that, don’t you, ma’am?” She nodded her head. “Have you got a saddle?” She pointed toward the tack room. He hesitated for a moment, exchanging glances with the other soldier, who had paused to witness the exchange. His partner shrugged indifferently.

  Before the first soldier could say more, Molly turned and walked directly to the tack room. Both troopers hastened to follow her. Inside the tack room, she walked down the line of saddles, stopping before the one that belonged to the mousy dun. Placing her hand on the saddle, she stood patiently waiting.

  Seeing that he was to have little choice, the trooper pulled the saddle and bridle from the rail. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll saddle him up for you.”

  The other soldier stood next to Red Hawk, watching the young lady follow his partner out to the corral. “She don’t waste a lot of words, does she?”

  “No,” Red Hawk replied and turned to follow.

  * * *

  With many in the garrison gone to the treaty grounds, the post presented an unusually quiet scene as the young white girl and the Crow Indian scout rode away from the stables, passing behind the cavalry barracks and the officers’ quarters, angling toward a bend in the Laramie River. Upon reaching the river, Red Hawk followed the north bank west as it wound its way into the mountains. After less than an hour’s ride, they approached a point where a creek cut between the high bluffs to empty into the river.

  Red Hawk held up his hand to halt the girl behind him. “He said he would camp somewhere close to the fork in the creek.” There was no obvious evidence of a camp, so Red Hawk began to scout the banks of the creek, working back up into the bluffs. After a short time, he called out to Molly, “Here.” When she caught up to him, he pointed to a thick stand of willows. “He camp here, but he’s gone now.”

  Disappointed, she hurried up to him, looking toward the willows he had pointed out. There was evidence of a small fire in a tiny clearing. She pushed on across the creek, and dismounted to look for any sign that might tell her where he had gone. Red Hawk slid down from his pony and walked to the edge of the creek, where he stood watching Molly as she felt the ashes of the fire. He was somewhat relieved that Slaughter was no longer there. He would take Molly back now. He should not have brought her out there in the first place. He opened his mouth to tell her that, but was unable to voice the first word.

  Hearing a sharp intake of his breath as he suddenly sucked air into his lungs, Molly turned to witness the brutal execution. Attacked from behind, Red Hawk struggled helplessly as Jack Black Dog held him with one hand across his neck, while the other hand thrust a long skinning knife deep into his side. Holding the mortally wounded Crow locked securely in the death embrace, Jack Black Dog continued to work the blade around in his side, tearing away at his victim’s organs. Feeling the life drain from the body, he withdrew the knife, then thrust it in again and again until there was no resistance left. Then he stepped back and let the body drop.

  Driven almost out of her mind by the horrifying scene playing out before her eyes, Molly felt the blood drain from her brain. The ground beneath her feet seemed to be spinning, causing her to stagger against a willow trunk. Strange grunting sounds registered in her ears, but she did not recognize them as her own attempts to scream. She gazed terrified into the leering face of Jack Black Dog until it, too, began to spin, and she slid down the tree trunk to the ground, unconscious.

  It was toward the shank of the afternoon when her eyes fluttered open and she returned to her senses, only to find her hands bound tightly together and a six-foot rawhide rope tying her wrists to a tree. The reality of her situation struck her with devastating impact. The horror she had wi
tnessed had not been a nightmare! Red Hawk’s body was lying where it had dropped, a lifeless lump on the creek bank, and she at once felt the sorrow of having been responsible for his death. Unwilling to look at him longer, she turned her head away, only to look directly into the grinning face of Jack Black Dog.

  “Well, little bird,” he sneered, “did you have a nice little nap?” He was seated cross-legged a few feet from her, obviously waiting for her to awaken. He reached out to touch her ankle, laughing when she quickly snatched it away. “Oh, I don’t reckon you’ll be so sassy when I get through with you.” Delighting in her obvious contempt for him, he continued to torment her. “You caused me a helluva lot of trouble, but I told you I’d getcha before it was over. I’m fixin’ to have me a little look at what you got under that skirt. I’m a fair man, though. If you don’t want me to, all you got to do is say no.” He chuckled gleefully at his obvious joke. “Little bird with no song,” he crowed, “just say you don’t wanna be with me, and I’ll let you go.” He leered at her, his foolish grin spread across his wide jaw. “What’s that? Did I hear you say somethin’? I reckon not, so I guess we’ll have us a little fun.” Then the grin faded completely away, replaced by a threatening scowl. “I’ll keep you alive as long as you please me. If you don’t, I’ll carve you up and eat you for supper.”

  Molly was close to choking on the terror filling her throat. She was certain she could not endure what his leering, evil eyes promised. Trying desperately to think of something that might delay the attack upon her, she could not force herself to rational thought. Her mind was reeling with the horrible thought that she was about to have her virginity ripped from her body by a foul and evil demon. Horrified, she tried to make herself urinate, hoping that if she fouled herself, it would dissuade him—at least for a short time—but she found that she was too terrified to force it.

  Growing weary of verbally tormenting her, and ready to know the pleasure that had dominated his mind, he got up and started untying his buckskin trousers. It was going to happen! She tried to shrink from him, but he grabbed her ankles and dragged her back toward him. In a fashion more akin to the butchering of an animal, he set himself upon her, forcing her ankles apart, wedging his body between her legs. With her wrists tied over her head, she did all she could to resist, causing him to hesitate long enough to slap her roughly several times before renewing his assault. She finally reached the point where she could resist no longer, and she felt her mind slipping away from consciousness. Suddenly, he stopped pressing forward. Confused and dazed, she opened her eyes, startled to find his head being forced backward, his face a painful grimace. He released her at once, reaching up with both hands in an attempt to capture the hand that grasped his hair.

  Slaughter was almost blind in his rage. He had never before experienced fury like he felt at that moment. The one thought in his mind was that he wanted to totally destroy this vile beast, and he wanted to do it in the most painful way possible. With a death grip on the half-breed’s scalp and a knee planted firmly in his back, Matt continued to force the head back until Jack Black Dog screamed out in pain. He did not stop until he heard the sharp crack of the breed’s back, and he knew that he had broken his spine. Still enraged, he dragged the limp body away from Molly and stood staring down into Jack Black Dog’s face. He realized that the treacherous half-breed was still alive, although obviously paralyzed, for he stared up at him with eyes wide with terror. With no feeling of compassion, Matt reached down and drew the knife Jack Black Dog had used to kill Red Hawk. He held it before the helpless breed’s face to let him get a good long look at the blade. Then he methodically drew it across the breed’s throat.

  Several long moments passed before the storm inside him abated, as he stood staring down at the corpse. Finally he regained his senses to the point of rational thought, and he went immediately to calm Molly. Still in a state of shock, she involuntarily jerked away from him when he knelt down to untie her wrists.

  “Molly,” he said softly, “it’s me, Matt. You’re safe now. It’s over.”

  Recognizing his voice, she relaxed. Tears began to fill her eyes as she was able to once again focus, seeing his face plainly now. The tears multiplied until she finally broke into deep sobs of relief. As soon as her wrists were free, she threw her arms around his neck and pulled herself tightly to his chest.

  He knew at that moment why he had been overcome with rage before. She was all that really mattered in the world to him. “It’s all right, darlin’, I’ll take care of you. I promise not to let anything else happen to you.”

  The thoroughly shaken young woman continued to hold on to Matt for some time before allowing him to leave long enough to take care of the dead. Finally, she became calm enough to sit down and wait while he dragged Jack Black Dog’s corpse away from his camp and dumped the hated breed over the edge of the bluff. Next, he rounded up the horses. Wrapping Red Hawk’s body in a blanket he found behind Jack Black Dog’s saddle, he lifted his friend up and laid him across the saddle. “I’ve got to take Red Hawk back to his people,” he told Molly. “I at least owe him that.” His intention was to take the body to Spotted Horse, along with Red Hawk’s and Jack Black Dog’s horses. It was risky, he had to admit, but not as risky as riding into the fort. Perhaps it would have been the wise thing to do to simply ride out and leave the army and the Sioux behind him, but he felt directly responsible for Red Hawk’s death, and obligated to return the dead warrior to his people to be given a proper burial.

  With Red Hawk securely bound across his saddle, Matt returned to the fire. “Can you ride now?” he asked Molly. She didn’t answer at once, but simply stared up at him, her eyes questioning. “I reckon I’d best get you back to the doctor’s house. Do they even know you left the fort?” She responded then, shaking her head slowly. “Well,” he repeated, “I’d best get you back. They’ll be worried about you.” She did not move, her eyes wide and following his every motion.

  He suspected what she might be thinking. He had said some things in the heat of the moment, things that had come out uncontrolled in the depth of his compassion for her, things that could not necessarily be. He had promised to take care of her. She might have interpreted that to mean she would now go with him to the mountains. Thinking back on that moment when he first saw Jack Black Dog forcing his body between her legs, he became insanely furious again. At that moment, she had been the most precious thing in his life. Now, he was confused, his feelings mixed up in his head, and he didn’t know what to do about her. One thing was clear—he couldn’t take her with him. With that thought, he made up his mind.

  “You’ll be all right now that Jack Black Dog is dead. I’ll take you back to the stables to leave your horse. You can walk back to Dr. Riddle’s house from there. It wouldn’t be too smart for me to take you to the house. I might wind up in irons.” She continued to stare at him, the disappointment apparent in her eyes. “We can take Red Hawk’s body to the Crow camp on the way back to the fort.”

  She dutifully got to her feet, and permitted him to give her a boost up onto her horse, her gaze straight ahead now. Once before, she had asked to go with him. She would not shame herself by asking again. To him, her stoic acceptance of her situation was worse than when she had stared accusingly at him. Dammit, he thought, I got no reason to feel guilty. I did what I came back to do. The murdering son of a bitch is dead, and Molly’s safe. That’s all a man can do. It still gnawed away at his conscience, and the emptiness he suddenly felt inside would not go away.

  Chapter 17

  They left the small Crow camp in mourning for the death of Red Hawk. Spotted Horse was grateful to Matt for bringing his brother’s body home. He, like Red Hawk, had counted Slaughter as a close friend, and knew the tall white scout was grieving the loss. If he blamed Molly for Red Hawk’s death, he showed no indication.

  “The soldiers still mean to arrest you,” Spotted Horse said when he walked beside Matt’s horse to the edge of the Crow camp.

  “
I know.”

  Spotted Horse turned his head briefly to gaze at Molly before remarking, “It is dangerous for you to go to the fort. Do you want me to take the woman back?”

  Matt shook his head. That would have definitely been the smarter choice, but he felt obligated to Molly to return with her to the fort—at least as far as the stables, since he had told her he would do so. “I ’preciate the offer,” he said, “but I guess I’ll see Molly home.”

  Spotted Horse slowly nodded his head as if considering Matt’s answer. Then he stepped back from the horse. “You be damn careful, Slaughter.”

  “I will.” He nudged the paint with his heels, leaving the Crow camp to bury Red Hawk. Molly followed along behind him on the mousy dun.

  * * *

  Dr. John Riddler looked up from his desk, surprised to see his wife at his office door. He was about finished for the day, and would have been home within a few minutes, so her visit was even more curious. She never came to the hospital, even when she was sick. He put the daily report aside and waited to hear the reason for her rare visit. “John,” Martha Riddler began, “I’m worried about Molly.”

  “Oh?” the doctor replied. “Why is that? Is she sick?”

  “No, it’s not that. She left the house a little before noon, and I haven’t seen her since. It’s just not like her to be gone this long without letting me know where she is.”

  The doctor was not overly concerned. “I’m sure she’s wandering around the post somewhere. Maybe she went to the sutler’s store.”

  “All afternoon?” Martha questioned. “Besides, Molly doesn’t ever go to the trader’s store unless I send her for something.” She frowned as she thought about it. “I even walked over to the chapel to see if she was there.”