Wilderness Double Edition #8

by David Robbins

  Indians rarely owned Hawkens. Not only were the rifles manufactured by the Hawken brothers of St. Louis much more costly than trade guns, they were difficult to come by for the simple reason there wasn’t a trapper alive, free or company man, willing to part with his prized possession no matter how much he was offered.

  So there were only three possible explanations for Dog with Horns having one. Either the warrior had somehow been able to afford its purchase price, or he had found a rare mountain man willing to trade it away, or he had stolen the gun.

  Nate had no proof one way or the other, but a hunch told him the third possibility was the most likely. There was something about the warrior, perhaps Dog with Horns’s transparent arrogance or another quality less obvious, that Nate instinctively didn’t like. He suppressed his feelings as he came close to the special guest and waited to be properly introduced.

  Chief Broken Paw had about run the gamut of notable braves in his village, and was turning to lead their distinguished visitor to his lodge when his eyes alighted on the returned hunters. “Ho!” he declared. “Here are some men you must meet, Dog with Horns. One of them is the man you asked for.”

  The brother of the high chief smiled as the introductions were made, but the smile did not light up his dark eyes. He stared at Nate the whole time, and when Broken Paw stopped talking, he said, “It is my pleasure to meet these three. Touch the Clouds, it is rumored, might one day be a chief himself. Spotted Bull’s many coups are a credit to his family and all Shoshones.” He paused. “As for Grizzly Killer, what need be said?”

  And that was it. No compliment. No acknowledgment of Nate’s status in the tribe. Just a statement so phrased that it could be construed as a flattering comment or as a blatant insult. Nate had the feeling it had not been the former. Nonetheless, he stepped forward and said, “It is my pleasure to welcome Dog with Horns to our village. Perhaps he will do me the honor of visiting my lodge during his stay?”

  “You can be sure I will look for you,” Dog with Horns responded. “I have already agreed to stay with Broken Paw. Know, though, that seeing you is one of the purposes for my being here.”

  Touch the Clouds came forward. “Would you accept an invitation to my lodge to eat tonight? Grizzly Killer killed three black bears earlier and we have enough fresh meat for a feast.”

  “Three bears?” Dog with Horns said. “Then what they say is true? He kills bears like other men kill flies?”

  “He claims he does it by accident,” Touch the Clouds mentioned, which sparked laughter in everyone listening except for the guest of honor.

  “A man should never be shy about his skill,” Dog with Horns said. “At least, an Indian should never be.” Although the sky was clear, clouds marred the features of some of those present, Nate among them. He had just been insulted, but again Dog with Horns had done it in such a way that it seemed perfectly innocent. Unwilling to let the slur pass unchallenged, he said, effectively turning Dog with Horns’s own words against the man, “As an adopted member of the tribe, I thank you for your kind regard.”

  “You have a nimble tongue,” Dog with Horns countered. “That is good to have when prying into matters better left alone.” Before Nate could reply, the warrior motioned and Broken Paw led him off, many of the village’s inhabitants trailing devotedly.

  Touch the Clouds faced Nate. “You have never met him before?”

  “Never.”

  “Odd that he should dislike you so.”

  “You noticed, did you?”

  “What did he mean about coming here to see you?”

  “If I knew that my heart would not be so troubled,” Nate said. He rotated on his heel and began to retrace his steps to Spotted Bull’s lodge, but he hadn’t gone ten feet when the man himself appeared at his right elbow.

  “There can only be one reason Dog with Horns has come. He has heard that you are pushing for a truce with the Utes. I have heard he despises them, so I would not be surprised if he wants to stop you before you can convince too many others to agree to the idea.”

  “That was my first guess, but we must be wrong,” Nate said. “How could he have learned about the visit of Two Owls to my cabin? I have told no one except for Broken Paw, a few of the elders, Touch the Clouds, and yourself.”

  “My tongue speaks true. Dog with Horns knows.”

  Logic dictated Spotted Bull must be mistaken, but Nate didn’t debate the point because his intuition was telling him the same thing. Somehow, some way, Dog with Horns had learned of the peace plan. If so, then Nate had to marvel at how swiftly Dog with Horns had reached the village. He tried to figure the time involved: Since it would have taken Dog with Horns three days, riding almost night and day, to make the trip from the east fork of the Snake River, Dog with Horns had to have learned of the matter at least four days ago. Yet at that time Nate and his family had still been en route from their cabin and no one else had even known of their mission. To make the matter more puzzling, since his family had only been in the village a single day, there hadn’t been time for anyone to ride to the Snake and inform on them. So how in the world had Dog with Horns heard, if indeed he had? It was all totally perplexing.

  Nate spent the rest of the afternoon trying in vain to make sense of the mystery. And there was another aspect worthy of his attention, a far more disturbing one. Assuming Dog with Horns did know, his rushed trip to Broken Paw’s village and his hostile attitude toward Nate indicated he most definitely was opposed to smoking a pipe with the Utes, as Spotted Bull had said might be the case.

  Nate didn’t relish the notion of having so prominent a brave as an enemy, especially one who had the ear of Mighty Thunder in Sky himself. Dog with Horns could cause him no end of trouble in a variety of ways. Among them was speaking against him behind his back, which would cause ill will toward him in the other Shoshone villages. Those who didn’t know him personally would easily be swayed by the opinion of a warrior who ranked so high in the councils of their nation. Or Dog with Horns might go even further and try souring the Shoshones on the notion of adopting whites into their tribe; he might try to have Nate stripped of any tribal affiliation and made an outcast.

  As the time neared for the feast, Nate tried convincing himself he was making a mountain out of the proverbial molehill. He had no real proof Dog with Horns was against the truce. For all he knew, there might be another reason for the warrior’s arrival. Yet despite rationalizing the situation over and over, he was still wary as he neared the lodge of Touch the Clouds.

  This was an informal affair, so wives and children were permitted to attend. Winona, as was the custom, had brought the bowls and spoons they would need to eat with.

  Nate gave his wife’s arm a gentle squeeze as they paused outside the flap; then he smiled at Zach, stroked Evelyn’s brow, and stooped to enter. Everyone was already there. The men were seated in a ring toward the back, the women were busy preparing the food, and the children were playing quietly.

  Nate moved to the right and stopped, waiting for the giant to indicate where he should sit, while his wife and son separated and joined their respective groups. A discussion had been taking place among the warriors when Nate entered, but now it had stopped and all eyes were on him. He was bothered by the steady, almost hostile stare of Dog with Horns, yet he did not let on.

  “Grizzly Killer!” Touch the Clouds declared with a broad smile. “Come, my friend. Join us.”

  The place saved for Nate turned out to be to the right of the giant. Occupying the guest place on Touch the Clouds’s left was Dog with Horns. As Nate sank to the ground, he nodded at Spotted Bull, who was on his right, and at the other Shoshone leaders present: Broken Paw, Lame Elk, and four more.

  To the left of Dog with Horns sat three braves who had arrived with him. All three were studying Nate intently.

  “You are just in time,” Touch the Clouds said. “My belly has been growling and I was about ready to start eating without you.”

  “Maybe the reason he w
as delayed is because he had to kill another bear on the way here,” Dog with Horns commented, a fake smile plastered on his smug features.

  And that statement set the tone for the whole evening. From then on, Dog with Horns took advantage of every opportunity to make remarks either about Nate or white men in general, remarks that, while not open insults, left no doubt as to his animosity.

  Nate was given a partial reprieve during the main course of the meal when everyone was too busy eating to talk. Touch the Clouds’s wife had outdone herself, and the food was outstanding. Served up first was a huge tin containing juicy stewed bear meat. Then came a slightly smaller pan filled with roasted deer. There was also a boiled flour pudding, a tangy sauce made from sugar and berries, and plenty of strong, sweet coffee. For dessert they were fed delicious cakes.

  Despite the undercurrent of bad blood, Nate ate heartily. Indeed, it was always expected of guests at a meal that they would eat every last morsel placed before them. Not to do so was a supreme insult. So he filled his stomach to bursting, then sat back contentedly and waited for Dog with Horns to broach the subject he felt sure had brought the warrior to the village. Nor was he kept in suspense for long.

  Chief Broken Paw had just given an account of recent events: telling of a man who had been gored while on a buffalo hunt, of the coup certain warriors had earned on a recent raid against the Sioux, and of the ongoing depredations of the Blackfeet, who were getting bolder and bolder all the time.

  “When a nation is as powerful as ours,” Dog with Horns said, “it can expect to have powerful enemies. The Blackfeet, the Bloods, the Piegans”—he glanced sharply at Nate—“the Utes, they are all worthy fighters. We must always be strong as a people if we are to hold our own against them.”

  “Very true,” Broken Paw agreed.

  “How about you, Grizzly Killer?” Dog with Horns asked. “Do you agree?”

  “No true warrior would not.”

  “Ahhh,” Dog with Horns said, propping his elbows on his knees. “I am pleased to hear you share my sentiments, but I am confused by your words since your actions go against them.”

  Nate stiffened. He had just been branded a liar in front of the leading men of the village, an insult so grievous that normally bloodshed would be the likely outcome. But he wasn’t about to let resentment cause him to do something he would later regret. Not since he half suspected he would be playing right into Dog with Horns’s hands if he did. To buy time to collect his thoughts, he slowly lowered his coffee, aware that all activity in the lodge had ceased and everyone had turned toward the men to better hear his response. “Perhaps I can correct your confusion if you would speak plainly and not in riddles such as young children use.”

  Someone gasped. One of the visiting braves made a move as if to grab his knife, but the man next to him stopped him.

  Dog with Horns was unruffled. Nodding, he spoke softly but with an edge to his tone. “You have a point. A true man does not hide his intentions behind clever words. Very well.” He leaned forward. “It has come to my attention that you plan to push for a truce with the Utes over Bow Valley. It is said you will visit my brother soon and try to persuade him to smoke the pipe of peace. Is all this true?”

  “It is,” Nate said.

  “Then it is good I came, so I can show you how wrong you are before you make a fool of yourself in front of the whole tribe.”

  “That is the reason you have come here?”

  “None other.”

  Nate looked into his tin cup and gave the coffee a swirl. “Now it is my turn to be confused. Since I have told so few, and none of them could have let you know, how is it you have learned all this?”

  “How I learned is unimportant,” Dog with Horns said. He chuckled, then added, “But you might say a snake told me.”

  The three members of his band all laughed.

  “I did not know you are gifted with the power to talk to animals,” Nate responded. “If I had that gift, perhaps I would ask the same snake why you are opposed to a truce.”

  “The answer is simple. It is not best for our people.”

  “How can saving lives be wrong for them?”

  “Heed what I say next. Since you are white, I do not expect you to fully understand, but I will make this as simple as I can to make it easy on you.” Dog with Horns made sure everyone was paying attention to him before going on. “Our people are a warrior race. We live to fight, to count coup. Because we are strong, our enemies fear us and make fewer raids on us than they would if they thought we were a nation of cowards.” He glanced at Broken Paw and the other leaders of the village. “Which they will do if they hear we are making peace with our enemies instead of taking their scalps. The Blackfeet, the Bloods, the Piegans, they will say the Shoshones are like women, and they will feel free to come and take from us whatever they want. Our horses, our weapons, our wives and children, they will take them all. We will be laughed at by every tribe in the mountains and on the plains.”

  “You are exaggerating,” Nate said.

  “Let me finish, white man,” Dog with Horns responded testily. “There is another reason why I do not want a truce. Our dispute with the Utes is an honorable one. Bow Valley should be ours, not theirs, and eventually it will be if we do not show weakness now.”

  A long silence followed this declaration. Nate knew every person present would be hanging on his every word, so he had to choose each one with the utmost care. Of critical importance was winning over Broken Paw. He needed the chief at his side when he went before Mighty Thunder in Sky to lend weight to his proposition. Unfortunately, he couldn’t determine from the chief’s expression whether or not Broken Paw had been swayed by Dog with Horns’s argument.

  Lifting his head, Nate locked eyes with the distinguished visitor and said, “As an adopted Shoshone, as a hunter of note and a man who has counted many coups, I know the importance of being strong in the face of our enemies. When the Blackfeet attack, am I not one of the first to help drive them off? Whenever a Shoshone is in need of help, have I not been willing to lend a hand? Is there anyone here who would question my bravery?”

  For a second Dog with Horns appeared on the verge of accepting the gauntlet. His lips parted, then closed again. Evidently he realized how unseemly it would be to criticize Nate’s widely known past achievements.

  “So when I say that establishing a truce with the Utes has nothing to do with courage or the prowess of the Shoshones in battle, I hope all here will see the truth,”

  Nate went on. “Think. Remember our triumphs. For every time the Blackfeet have made a successful raid on us, we have made one on them. For every Shoshone scalp the Bloods have taken, we have taken one of theirs. There is not a tribe anywhere who regards us as weak.” He took a sip of coffee. “Dog with Horns would have you believe that if we make peace with the Utes, then other tribes will think they can do as they please with us, but a little thought should show you how wrong he is. When the Blackfeet made peace with the Piegans, did anyone think that of them? Of course not. And when the Cheyennes made peace with the Arapahos, did any other tribe go into Cheyenne territory and try to take what they wanted? No, because the Cheyenne are strong just as we are strong.”

  One of the village elders grunted, a sign of agreement. “Instead of showing us as weak, a truce would show we are powerful. For only a powerful tribe, one that commands much respect, can force an enemy into making peace. This is how the Blackfeet will think. They will say among themselves, ‘The Utes smoked the pipe because they were afraid of the Shoshones.’.”

  “This is true,” Broken Paw commented.

  Delighted, Nate drove home a few more points. “If we do make peace with the Utes, it will free us to pay more attention to our enemies to the north and the east. Our women and children will be able to sleep a little easier at night. And our warriors will once more be able to carry bows made from the special wood in Bow Valley. Is all this not worth the effort?”

  Again silence ensued. Since Do
g with Horns had been the one who challenged Nate, he had to be the one to again offer an opposing viewpoint

  “Your tongue is like a spider’s web,” the renowned brave began, “and like the strands of a web, the statements you have made will trap our people in a position where they will come to great harm. I can see that, and so can anyone else who sincerely cares for our nation. But even if I am wrong, even if our enemies do not decide we are weak enough to be destroyed or driven from our lands, there is one more reason for not making peace. And it is this.” He jabbed a finger at the men from the village. “How many of you know someone who lost a loved one to the Utes? How many of you lost a relative or a friend yourselves? I did. And I refuse to let the deaths go unavenged. Their blood cries out for us to do something, to show our love for them by taking the lives of those responsible.”

  Nate knew he must tread cautiously. It was hard to fight strong personal feelings by appealing to human reason, as his reading of James Fenimore Cooper had shown. So he didn’t bother trying. He merely mentioned, “The Utes have lost as many loved ones as we have, which does not excuse their actions at all. Many have ample cause to mourn, to hate. But do we want even more to suffer in the same way? They will. If the Bow Valley issue is not settled, many on both sides will lose their lives, and all because we were not wise enough to end the conflict when we had the chance to do so.” He surveyed the ring of warriors. “I ask you. Which will benefit our people more in the winters ahead, revenge or peace?”

  The question served as the cue for general talk to resume, with the warriors engaged in earnest conversations over the topic of the truce.