By God, thought Jody, I’ll make the bastard eat crow before I’m through.
Finally, Harrison was replete. He lay back and rested from his exertions, making a lordly gesture to the women, whereupon they fell upon the kettle and ate with as much appreciation as their master. He chatted with them amiably and they answered him between mouthfuls, there seemed to be a good relationship between the three of them. Jody was surprised that there were no children in the household. He was proved mistaken when a face appeared in the doorway of the lodge and a young man came shyly in. Harrison spoke to him, gesturing toward Jody, then saying in English: “This is my oldest son. Call him Feather in Ute. Good boy. Neither of these is his mother. Died a good few years back now. He ain’t blooded yet. But he’s sure rarin’ to go. Ain’t you, boy?” The young man didn’t understand, but he nodded modestly. He sank to his haunches and spoke softly to his father. Harrison sat up, all attention at once. He replied and the young man slipped out of the lodge.
Harrison turned to Jody.
“Could be a heap of trouble brewin’, boy.”
“What happened?”
“Feller you shot. He don’t appreciate he could be daid. Turned a mite nasty. His brother’s talkin’ around camp, stirrin’ things a mite. ’Pears he’s talkin’ with Arrow right this minute. Maybe this hoss should git along there and put in his two cents worth.” He rose to his feet and added: “You stay close an’ don’t you stir none.” He spoke briefly to the women and walked out. Jody noticed that he did not take a gun with him. He also noticed that the man’s face was grave.
Jody lay there feeling uneasy. The two women gave him long doubtful looks and carried the bowl out of the lodge. Alone, Jody wondered if he should try and make a break for it. Only the squawman might stand between him and his having his throat cut. But he had no idea where his horses were. Fetching one solitary bull for his father entailed more than he bargained for. Was there something the matter with him? Did he attract trouble? He drew out his revolver and cleaned it. An ill-cared-for gun could bring about a man’s end surer than anything. The gun was an old one and one which he knew well. He could have dismantled it and cleaned it in the dark. It was a familiar thing of beauty to Jody and a comfort to him now. It had been made in 1860 and it was a Beal’s gun manufactured by Remington of New York. It weighed nearly three pounds and a man knew he had it along with him when he carried it on his hip. It was a percussion gun with an eight-inch barrel and a caliber forty-four. It held six shots and they had to be loaded carefully by hand, powder, ball and caps. A man’s life could depend on the skill with which he loaded. Jody fondled the old worn walnut butt, dark with oil and handling. He removed the percussion caps, emptied the loads, cleaned the gun and reloaded it. In his pocket was a spare chamber. This he loaded too. He had a feeling he was going to need it. He laid the hammer down on an empty chamber and felt better.
Next he paid attention to his rifle. This had been a present from his father and was no common gun. While most men would deem themselves lucky to have a breech-loading cartridge rifle, he had eight shots in a loading tube. This at once put him in a position of strength and he knew it. He cleaned the weapon carefully, then slipped the loading-tube up the butt. Then he lay and listened to the sounds of the camp.
There seemed to be children playing around the tent. He could hear a girl laughing. He responded to the sound. He moved toward the door and saw before him the flowing water of the creek. There were several youngsters diving and swimming. One or two were playing tag in and out of the bushes that grew along the shore.
He became aware that there was a horse tied near the lodge and saw that it was Harrison’s mount. He looked away to the right and saw Blue on the other side of the lodge. His heart beat a little faster. A white man’s saddle lay on the ground. It was his own. He wondered if he dared ...
He strolled unconcernedly out of the tepee and looked nonchalantly around.
There was a girl carrying water up from the river. She was young and not bad to look at. Her body and legs were hidden under the folds of a skin robe that reached almost to the ground, but he’d bet it was shapely. She noticed him looking at her and as she walked past him, she flicked a look from under thick black lashes. He smiled and she giggled. Beyond her was a young man sitting with his back to a tree. He had a rifle across his knees. He didn’t appear to be looking at anything in particular.
Jody strolled to the other side of the lodge and there at the same distance as the other warrior he saw another young man, also sitting. This one had a bow across his knees and in one hand he carelessly dangled a befeathered arrow. Coincidence. He wasn’t looking at anything in particular either.
Jody knew that he was being watched. His hackles rose.
He walked back into the lodge and flung himself down on the buffalo robe. His thoughts took him this way and that way, but he couldn’t think of what he should do. He thought of Uncle Mart. He’d talk or fight his way out of this one. Jody knew that he depended on Harrison, but he didn’t know how far he could trust the squawman. Harrison was a part of the tribe, he had lived with these people for years. He wasn’t going to foul his own nest for the sake of a stranger.
Jody groaned — hell, why did he have to pick that spot to camp? Why did he have to be so damned eager to go fetch this goddam stupid bull?
Dusk started to gather over the hills and with it the camp quietened down. Jody started to imagine all sorts of furtive and threatening sounds around the lodge. He lay back with his hand on that old walnut butt, watching the doorway. If one of those accursed bucks was to appear there with bow or gun in hand, Jody would blow him back to the creek. Then it would be run for Blue and get the hell out of there, saddle or no saddle.
It was full dark inside the lodge when Harrison entered. He came so silently and unexpectedly that Jody nearly cut down on him with the Remington. If the man was aware that the boy had drawn on him, he gave no sign. He sat down and said with disgust: “Them damn women didn’t light a fire. By God, I’ll ... They knows right well I have to have light. ’Sides it gits cold as night draws on.” He roared out in Ute, bellowing deafeningly until one of the women came running and built a fire. The flames flickered, giving a friendly light. Jody could see Harrison’s face now and he saw that it was grim.
“What took you so long?” Jody demanded.
“Long,” said Harrison reaching for a long-stemmed pipe and stuffing it with native weed, “Boy, you ain’t seen nothin’. That were jest a little chit-chat. Injuns like words. Words is jest ’bout the sum total of their fun. But I rustled things along a mite. I have a heap of patience, but it has its limits, I reckon.”
“What was said?”
“The chiefs wanted to know all about you. That took an hour.”
“I thought Arrow was chief.”
“Sure. He’s chief, so’s a half-dozen more. Maybe he’s a piece more chief than the rest, but that don’t mean to say his word’s law when it comes to this kinda thing. It has to be talked over an’ they all have an equal say. I told ’em you was kin to me an’ you come into this country tryin’ to locate me. That went down purty well. They swallered it. It made some sort of sense to ’em. But they was still fit to be tied ’cause you went an’ shot one of their sons. Old Stalk Horse. I reckon thet’s the way you say it in American. Christ knows. You shot his pride and joy, Eagle Foot.”
“Too bad,” said Jody. “They was tryin’ to lift my horses.”
“Sure was, but you can’t expect the daddy of a wounded boy to see sense. You think if young Feather got a ball up his butt when he was helpin’ hisself to a horse I’d feel reasonable about it? I’d go raisin’ ole Cain. No,” Harrison continued, “They’re after your hide and I reckon they’re goin’ to git it.”
Jody looked at the possibility of taking on the whole tribe and he didn’t much like that he saw.
“They’ll lose a few if they try,” he declared stoutly.
Harrison swung his head and glared at him.
“What in burnin’ hell’re you talkin’ about, boy?” he demanded.
“I’ll take a few of these bastards with me,” Jody informed him.
“What’re you reckon they want from you?”
“You said — my hide.”
Harrison exploded in laughter.
“Figure of speech, son,” he roared. “They want payment.”
Jody almost stopped shaking.
“What kinda payment?”
“That’s what I been dickering over. A hoss or two maybe.”
“I don’t have a horse.”
“You come in with two,” Harrison reminded him, his eyes twinkling.
“I can’t travel without horses.” Jody’s face registered utter dismay. He hated the thought of parting with Blue at all.
Harrison laughed again and reached over to slap Jody on the shoulder. This was the one he had fallen on during the fight and the boy winced.
Harrison said: “I wasn’t thinkin’ of you givin’ up a hoss, boy. I’ll pay the compensation.”
Jody said: “I can’t — why should you do this for me, Mr. Harrison?”
Harrison looked at him blankly.
“Boy,” he said, “I have more horses ’an I kin count. I’m a big man around here. You have to understand, I live an’ think ’most like a Injun. A big man don’t covet earthly goods. I give jest ’bout fast as I receive. Kinda keeps goods circulatin’, the big men allus givin’ things away. It don’t hurt me none to part with two-three hosses. I’m dickerin’ ’cause I hate to think of ole Stalk Horse puttin’ one over on me. If he
was to ask me nice, why I’d give him a half-dozen of the critters.”
Jody looked at this man in amazement. This wasn’t his idea of a property-owning man at all. All his material values were shaken.
“Mr. Harrison,” he said, “I’m sure beholden to you. If ever I can repay you ...”
“Think nothin’ of it, son,” Harrison said with a magnanimous wave of a horny hand. “There’s jest one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Arrow took a kinda fancy to that there rifle of yourn.”
Harrison watched him with his head cocked to one side. Jody stared at him.
“You mean ...? Hell’s bells, he don’t git that rifle. No, sir. My daddy give me that rifle. When did you ever see a rifle as good as that? You tell me.”
“All right,” said Harrison. “I’ll tell you. I never saw a rifle as good as that. Nor did Arrow and that’s what counts, boy.”
“A man needs a rifle. What good’s a belt gun to me in these hills?”
“I’ll give you a rifle.”
“A repeater?”
“If I could, do you think Arrow would be a-lookin’ covetous at yourn? Breechloader though. Good gun. Short Sharps. Old but it’ll stand you in good stead.”
Jody felt small, being offered a rifle in the open-handed way Harrison did it. Just the same, a Henry was a Henry.
“What if I refuse? he asked.
“You’re right,” Harrison replied. “But the chiefs holdin’ back the young men ’at wanta cut your throat. He feels purty friendly ’cause you’re my kin. You hang on to the Henry an’ maybe he won’t feel so friendly. Do you value your life above a rifle?”
“Aw, hell,” Jody said, picked up the Henry and thrust it into Harrison’s hands.
The older man grinned wryly and said: “Give you thirty rounds for the Sharps.” He stood up. “Come on, we’ll go see old Arrow.”
Jody stood.
“Me go see him? Look, just give him the rifle an’ leave me light a shuck outa here.
“What’s the hurry?”
“I have business to attend to.”
“I think mebbe you don’t like Injuns.”
“I love Injuns.”
“All right, we go see Arrow, then I ketch up a hoss or two and see how Eagle Foot looks on ’em.” He led the way out of the lodge. Jody hitched at his gun belt to make sure the Remington was near his hand. He still saw himself shooting his way free of the camp. Outside, Harrison handed him the Henry. Jody checked in his pocket that he had the spare chamber on him and prayed the percussion caps were still on the nipples.
They started through the camp, Harrison walking at a slow loping pace that covered the ground fast. Jody found it hard to keep up in his high-heeled cowman’s boots. They passed lodge doors and Jody glimpsed the dark faces by the light of the flickering fires within. Here and there a man sat at his lodge door enjoying the cool of the evening. Dogs sniffed at him and growled; Harrison cursed them good-naturedly and kicked them away. He heard the soft sound of an instrument like a flute, so gentle that it could have been the musical sighing of the wind in the trees. All seemed peace. Yet he felt that eyes were watching him as he walked.
They came to a tepee larger than the others. Harrison stooped and entered. Jody followed and found that there were a couple of dozen men present, most of them in their late years, sitting cross-legged in a circle with the fire in the center. The very old were wrapped in blankets or furs. A pipe was being passed. Behind them stood younger men, splendid in their paint and their colored clothes, resplendent with feathers, showing here and there the soft glitter of silver, the mellowed white of bone. All eyes turned on him as he appeared.
On the far side of the tent sat Arrow, younger than most of the chiefs there, but very much the most important man present, carrying his authority easily. He leaned forward slightly, one elbow resting on a knee. His clothes were mostly of a dark blue; his face bore no more paint than a touch of white and vermilion on either cheek and his forehead. In his neatly plaited hair was a single eagle’s feather. There was something somber and sober about the man.
Harrison was talking. He seemed to talk for a long time. At the end of it, Arrow gestured with his right hand, indicating that they should sit. Room was made for them on the opposite side of the circle from him and they sat. Jody was glad that he was within one jump of the doorway.
Arrow talked for a while. Then an old man to Jody’s right said his piece. Harrison leaned across to Jody and told him that was Eagle Foot. Behind him stood the son Jody hadn’t managed to shoot. Jody could feel the hostility reaching out from them. When Arrow was through, old Eagle Foot said his piece. He became excited. He repeatedly pointed at Jody. Eyes turned to look at him. Jody asked Harrison what he was saying. Harrison told him that the old man said that he would be perfectly satisfied if the white man gave his injured son six horses. Six horses? Jody exclaimed so loudly that everybody turned to stare at him. Harrison laughed. The old fool could demand six horses till the crack of doom, but he knew he wouldn’t get ‘em. No, he’d settle for two. Eagle Foot knew that and Harrison knew that, but Eagle Foot was plying for other stakes too. Jody didn’t have any idea what they were, but he reckoned that Harrison did. The boy wondered if the squawman was using him as a pawn in his game. When the old fellow had gone on for some time, Harrison interrupted him rudely. The old man looked a little mad. Harrison started laying down the law. He waxed eloquent. Jody felt pretty frustrated, not being able to understand a word.
The heat of the place was starting to get the better of him. It was hard to concentrate on a scene that didn’t mean much to you. That wasn’t altogether true, of course, because his life might depend upon the scene. It was just that ... his chin hit his chest. Harrison nudged him into wakefulness, violently.
Jody became aware that the young man behind Eagle Foot was talking. Angrily — pointing at Jody. The elders seemed put out that a young man should butt into the council, but the young man went on just the same.
Finally, even his father had enough of him and sternly told him to hold his tongue. That much was even plain to Jody. The young man got the blood in his eyes and he started elbowing his way out of there. As he passed behind Jody, the white boy felt the young warrior’s eyes boring into the back of his head.
“Arrow’s this way, that way,” Harrison informed him. “Now’s the time to make the play with
the rifle.” He started haranguing the chief. Arrow listened intently. His eyes became fixed on the rifle in Jody’s hands. When Harrison finished, he told Jody that he hadn’t definitely promised the rifle to the chief, but had hinted that if Arrow proved himself a friend to Jody, the white man would feel suitably grateful. He had also hinted, though a little more vaguely, that in Jody’s packs were a couple more such weapons and, if the other gentlemen present were also a little less hostile to the stranger in the camp he might be suitably grateful to them too. The old man nodded, realizing fully the game that Harrison was playing, but wanting a rifle just the same.
Harrison told Jody to hand the rifle over. Jody picked his way across the lodge to Arrow and offered him the rifle. The chief’s eyes glittered with excitement and he took the weapon. Jody then took the ammunition from his pocket and handed it over. A murmur of admiration and envy ran around the meeting. Jody walked back to his place and Harrison said: “Time we wasn’t here. We’ll head back to my lodge and let the idea of more guns git to work in their evil ole haids.”
He said his farewells to the gathering, then they both rose and stalked out.
As they walked side by side through the moonlight, Harrison said: “We did purty well back there, son. We ain’t outa trouble yet. Old Eagle Foot carries a lotta weight, but some of them’re waverin’. I reckon we’ll be able to git you outa camp all right. It’s after I’m worried about.”
“Let me just saddle Blue an’ take my chance,” said Jody.
“You wouldn’t git a mile,” Harrison told him. “Bear Claw, that’s old Eagle Foot’s son, he’s two-three fellers tag along with him. They’re sure short on horses. That Blue of yourn has caught his eye. He’d kill you for that horse, leave alone for shootin’ his brother.” They reached the lodge and went inside. The two women were in there making moccasins. Harrison seated himself and Jody squatted down. The squaw-man went on: “You’ll have to ride out openly an’ I’ll show ’em I’m backin’ you. Feather’ll go five-ten miles with you. Now git a good night’s sleep. You’ll need to cover a lotta ground tomorrow.”
One Man, One Gun Page 5
