Shatterhand and the People

by BJ Holmes

  For the spell of time that Shatterhand looked at the prone figure it didn’t move. Whether the man was dead or unconscious was immaterial. For the present at least he was out of action and posed no immediate threat. Shatterhand hauled his aching body to an erect position and looked down to squint at the combatants near the river. Their fight hadn’t finished. Winnetou still had a chance. The frontiersman picked up the fallen rifle and heavy-footed along the edge, then down the slope between the rocks.

  Down below, both combatants had lost hold of their knives and were making warfare with their war-hatchets. Whooping, the Apache was charging with his axe arm raised. His adversary stumbled backwards and Winnetou leapt at him, bringing his weapon down with all his might. The Chis-Chis-Chash chief rolled adroitly and the single devastating blow from the younger man was so powerful that, when it missed its target, the weapon hit the ground with such force the axe-haft shattered.

  Cold-Mist was on his feet and, encouraged by his opponent being weapon-less, gave a courage yell, swinging down his arm. Winnetou evaded the descending weapon and jabbed a fist under the warrior’s arm into his ribs. Cold-Mist stumbled for a few seconds before reclaiming his equilibrium. He whirled around to come back with a rush, aiming a succession of wild blows.

  Cold-Mist moved in close as Winnetou keeled over. But it was a mistake as the Apache jabbed out with his foot along the ground, concentrating so much of his energy into it that when it caught his adversary’s shin, the man crumpled.

  Before Winnetou could take advantage the man was back on his feet and advancing, axe whooshing in horizontal, deadly arcs. The Apache back-footed. Suddenly the chief leapt taking Winnetou down with his weight. The two men locked together turning over and over with the impetus of Cold-Mist’s charge. Their violent roll continued in a dust cloud, on and on until they eventually disappeared over the edge of the bank. Still locked together they bounced off a rock before crashing into the water.

  The river was shallow and, when Winnetou surfaced, Cold-Mist was several yards away. The Apache ploughed through the water and, before his adversary could rise, hurled himself upon him. Having the advantage, he held the man under the water to the point when his own lungs were bursting, then yanked him up. Breathing deep, he again plunged the man beneath the waves. As soon as he felt the man’s resistance wane, he raised him from the water. Cold-Mist was still alive, but spluttering breathlessly with no fight left.

  Slowly Winnetou hauled the man out of the water and up on to the bank. Blood was pouring from Cold-Mist’s head. It had taken the brunt of the fall when the two men had smashed against the rock before they had fallen into the water. He lay on the ground, coughing and offering no further fight. Sensing an outcome was near, the chiefs moved close.

  ‘The Apache is the victor,’ Roman Nose said after a while. ‘His word has been shown to be the truth.’

  That might have been the decision but victory alone was not enough for Winnetou. He retrieved his knife and knelt over the prostrate man, the blade point at his throat. ‘Speak, that all shall hear,’ he ordered. ‘Avow your guilt.’

  Water was dripping from Cold Mist’s lips, but his coughing was weak. His skull was smashed.

  ‘Confess, dog!’ Winnetou snarled, moving the knife, unconcerned that his adversary was near death. ‘Speak.’

  It was some time before any words came from Cold-Mist. Eventually he mumbled, ‘I have disgraced my tribe.’ Then almost inaudibly came the words, ‘The Apache’s charge is true. I sought to bring discredit to The People.’ He said no more and his body went limp.

  ‘Take the body back to his tribe,’ Roman Nose ordered. ‘His fate has been determined.’ He turned to Winnetou. ‘Although the Apache chief could not send a bold company to aid our arms in our battle against the whites, he in fact served us well when he sent this valiant young buck.’

  Shatterhand approached the two major chiefs. ‘If you should tell your braves to go up into the rocks yonder they will find Cold-Mist’s second-in-command. We fought. I think he too is dead.’ He held out the rifle. ‘With this he sought to intercede in the combat of truth.’

  Roman Nose took the weapon. ‘We already have the truth of the matter. This is merely further confirmation.’ He turned to Red Cloud. ‘With both their chief and lieutenant dead the Chis-Chis-Chash are leaderless and they may decide to return home. When the herdsman is smitten, the sheep are scattered. Yet their braves are a valuable addition to our forces.’

  ‘We shall return to the main camp,’ Red Cloud said, ‘and address them together, telling them to select new leaders.’ He smiled sagely and with confidence. ‘Roman Nose and Red Cloud can persuade them to do so and remain with The People. The red men are once more united to give us strength in our negotiations with the white man. Now there is no impediment to the drawing up of an honorable treaty.’ He looked at the frontiersman and smiled before adding, ‘And the mighty Shoh-tah-hay has once again proved himself man of legend.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Two days later Shatterhand rode into Fort Laramie. He was soon in Sherman’s office relating events to the general and Sanborn, his fellow commissioner. ‘So, General,’ Shatterhand concluded, ‘as you can see there is now no obstacle to Roman Nose and Red Cloud talking peace. They will speak with one voice at the negotiating table. Red man and white can together decide the long-contended question for this land and end at once these tedious conflicts.’

  ‘And what are the terms?’ the tired old army man asked.

  ‘I have written down Red Cloud’s words,’ the frontiersman said. He took out a piece of paper and read. ‘We are on the mountains looking down on the soldiers and the forts.’

  ‘I know,’ the general said. ‘I’ve had reports from all along the Powder that redmen are lining the skyline. No movement, no attacking, just watching, day and night.’

  Shatterhand continued reading: ‘He finishes by saying, When we see the soldiers moving away and the forts abandoned, then I will come down and talk.’

  Sherman shook his head. ‘Just as I figured, the old coot still wants the limit. I’ve got the signatures of a few minor chiefs who came in for our presents but they’re chicken feed. The peace commission has got nowhere without the marks of Roman Nose and Red Cloud.’

  ‘I speak objectively as an intermediary without taking sides,’ Shatterhand said. ‘That is my function in this matter. The two major chiefs of The People have had trouble keeping the tribes united. I’m not divulging any secrets by telling you that. But I will tell you one thing: if you were to delay entering an honorable agreement, they may decide to act before dissension rises amongst their ranks again. They know that if their league is dissolved their forces will be far too few to enable them to prosecute their enterprise. If that should happen I truly do not know who would win. Maybe the redmen, maybe the army. At the moment all the tribes are united. I don’t have to tell you there’d be much spilling of blood.’

  ‘Thank you for your work, sir,’ the general said. ‘Can you stand by in the event of further communications between us? You can bunk in army quarters.’

  Shatterhand touched his hat and left the room.

  ‘We’ve already got orders to abandon the forts on the Powder if necessary,’ Sanborn said. ‘Why wait?’

  ‘Red Cloud is pushing to keep his face,’ Sherman said. ‘The army needs to keep face too. Abandoning a line of forts and closing a whole stretch of road is the last resort. I’m not doing that unless I really have to.’

  Sherman returned to Washington, then one by one the peace commissioners abandoned their task until there were only a couple left. But still the massed forces of The People remained on the Powder, keeping a close watch on the forts and effectively blocking the road to Montana.

  Eventually in July word came through to Fort CF Smith: the War Department had issued orders for the final abandonment of the Powder River country. On receiving the news Shatterhand rode out once more to pass the message to the chiefs. Shortly afterwards the troops march
ed out of the fort heading south; Red Cloud led a band into the post, and they set fire to every building.

  Shatterhand and his Apache friend sat on their horses alongside Roman Nose looking down at the flames licking up to the early morning sky. Red Cloud broke free from the fort and rode back up the hill to join them, triumph gleaming in his eyes.

  ‘The honor of Winnetou and the Apache name is redeemed in the eyes of The People,’ Roman Nose said. ‘Now that things are passed, what is in the mind of the staunch Winnetou?’

  ‘Your humble servant wishes to return to his tribe,’ the young brave said. ‘He is needed there.’

  ‘He is free of all obligation,’ Roman Nose said, ‘and may ride south to the warm lands with our gratitude. Together with gifts for the mighty Intschu-tschuna.’ He signaled to an attendant to pass over a buckskin-wrapped package.

  Red Cloud turned to Shatterhand. ‘And what is in the heart of Shoh-tah-hay?’

  ‘It is one thing to pass on good wishes to a friend from afar,’ the frontiersman said, ‘it is another to visit and meet with the old friend. Especially if the friend has seen many summers and may see few more. It is the wish of Shatterhand to accompany the young Winnetou in his journey south so that the white eyes can pay respects to the brave’s grandfather and talk of old times before it is too late.’

  Roman Nose nodded. ‘That is understood. May the Great Manitou ride with you both.’

  The four struck their chests with clenched fists in the redman’s universal sign of well wishing, then the frontiersman and the young Apache wheeled their horses to gig them down the grade.

  Silently, the chiefs watched the two riders until they reached a clump of trees on the southward trail. There, the shadows of the trees reached out for the horsemen, closing around them, claiming them as their own.

  Epilogue

  Weeks later Fort Phil Kearny was abandoned and left to the Cheyenne. After ceremonially burning it they moved down to Fort Reno, the last army outpost. They camped outside, silently waiting and watching while the soldiers left. The last Bluecoat coming out through the gates marked the official closing of the Powder River.

  But the wily Red Cloud still kept the peace commissioners waiting. It was not until November that he rode triumphantly into Fort Laramie and eventually put his mark on the treaty. His comments at the time are recorded:

  From this day forward all war between the parties to this agreement shall forever cease. The government of the United States desires peace, and its honor is hereby pledged to keep it. The Indians desire peace, and they now pledge their honor to maintain it.

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