“You think that you know how they vanished, white man?” Standing Bull asked with marked sarcasm. “Are you a medicine man that you can see events far off?”
“No,” Nate answered calmly, facing the tracker. “Tell me. Did these men you were following stop shortly after they came to the flat country?”
Little Raven pondered a moment. “Yes, they did. How did you guess? That was the only time they stopped too. Had they done so sooner, they might have left a footprint by which I could determine which tribe they were from.”
Nate nodded. He had experience himself in distinguishing the different types of moccasins worn by men from different tribes by the shapes of the soles and the weave of the stitching. “As I suspected,” he said. “They stopped to cut up some of their blankets.”
“Why would they do that?” Little Raven asked.
“Once, when the Blackfeet were after me, I threw them off my scent by cutting up a blanket and wrapping each hoof on my horse so there would be no print at all when it put its full weight down,” Nate detailed. He nearly laughed at the comical expressions of wonder they wore. Sometimes, he mused, the simplest answers were so obvious it was startling. “The ruse only works on ground as hard as rock. In softer soil there will always be smudges left by the blankets.”
Long Holy regained his composure first. “A truly marvelous way of deceiving an enemy. I must remember to use it if ever the need arises.”
“This would indeed explain why I could not find sign,” Little Raven said.
“Who ever heard of such a trick?” Standing Bull said. “Leave it to a white man to think of it.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Perhaps the ones responsible were white themselves. Perhaps this white man was one of them. Who is he anyway? Why is he in our camp?” Nate reined in his anger at the accusation as Long Holy disclosed his identity to the members of the search party. When Long Holy was done, Nate declared for the enlightenment of all, “My skin may be white but my heart is Shoshone. Let any who doubt it talk to Broken Paw and his people. They know me well and they will vouch for my integrity. I would never kill a fellow tribesman.”
“No one claims you did,” Long Holy said, casting a pointed glance at Standing Bull.
And that was that. The gathering broke up, and Long Holy conveyed the news to the lodge of Mighty Thunder in Sky. Later another search party returned to also report failure in finding the culprits.
To say that Nate spent an anxious night would be an understatement. He tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable, working and reworking in his mind exactly what he should say when he sat before the chief. So much depended on his eloquence, and he didn’t consider himself a persuasive man with words. He wasn’t glib, like his closest friend and mentor Shakespeare McNair, who could charm a rattler out of its rattles. If he was to have any hope of convincing Mighty Thunder in Sky, he must rely on simple sincerity.
The sound of a stick being poked into the embers of the fire by Her Shawl brought Nate out of the light slumber into which he had finally drifted in the wee hours of the morning. Easing out from under the blanket so as not to awaken Winona or Evelyn, he donned his moccasins and buckskin shirt and stepped outside. Already a number of men and women were abroad. An elderly woman bearing an armful of limbs smiled at him as she went by. Over by the river several warriors were taking their morning plunge. Although they were naked, they swam unaffected in the frigid water.
Nate went into the bushes, and when he came back he found his son waiting for him. “Morning. What has you up with the chickadees?”
“Can I come with you when you go to see Mighty Thunder in Sky?” Zach asked eagerly.
“Afraid not,” Nate responded. “Boys your age aren’t allowed to sit in on councils. You know that.”
“Dam.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Zach said forlornly, tracing a line in the dirt with his toe.
“This coon knows better. Talk straight with me.”
The boy answered in a rush. “It’s just that I don’t want to spend the whole blamed day with the women, Pa. Not that I have anything against them or don’t like Ma or anything like that. But I’m getting too old to have to follow my mother around like a little kid has to do.”
“I see,” Nate said, both amused and pleased. This was the first time Zach had ever expressed reservations about being in the company of women, a sure sign he was chomping at the bit to become a full-fledged man. Nate was about to dispense some fatherly advice about patience being one of the prime traits of a grown-up when the lodge flap parted and out stepped Long Holy.
“We can go as soon as we have eaten, Grizzly Killer, if that is all right with you.”
“It is fine,” Nate said.
“Let us hope Mighty Thunder in Sky is in a better mood than he has been.” Long Holy grew somber. “But who can blame him when he is mourning the death of his own brother?”
“Who?” Nate asked, hoping he had heard wrong. “His brother. Have you forgotten so soon? You told us that you met him when he stopped by the village of Broken Paw. His name was Dog with Horns.”
Chapter Nine
The Rattler chuckled as he admired the string of three fresh new scalps tied to a cord looped fast around his muscular waist. “Did you see the looks on the faces of those dumb Shoshones when we sprang our trap? They never suspected.”
“They still fought well,” Leaping Wolf remarked. “If we had not had them pinned down, they would have killed many of us.”
“But they did not,” The Rattler said crankily. “When will you learn to look at life as it is and not as it might be or might have been? My plan has worked perfectly and you are just too stubborn to admit it.”
“We have been very lucky.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it. Thank my spirit guardian, who has watched over me from the moment I first decided to stop Two Owls.” The Rattler fondly fingered one of the scalps. “Now, not only have I thwarted him, but I have killed one of the leading warriors in the Shoshone nation and arranged everything so that the Shoshones themselves will slay the white dog who has caused us more trouble than any man alive.”
“So you keep saying. But they might not.”
“The Shoshones are not complete fools. Once they make the connection, Grizzly Killer will be lucky if they do not throw him to the ground and slice off his hair while he is still alive!”
~*~
The interior of the high chief’s lodge was cool and gloomy, conditions brought about because he insisted on keeping the flap closed and the fire low, the flames no more than thin flickering tongues lapping at the darkness. Mighty Thunder in Sky’s three wives sat by themselves to one side while a pair of small children played near the entrance.
Nate paused upon entering and waited to be bidden to a seat. He had not yet gotten over the shocking revelation Long Holy had made. Dog with Horns dead! The one man who stood in the way of achieving peace with the Utes was gone. Nate should feel elated, since he could now present his case unhindered, yet oddly, he felt terribly agitated, and had to resist a mad impulse to collect his loved ones and ride from the village just as swiftly as their mounts could move.
Mighty Thunder in Sky sat huddled next to the fire, a heavy buffalo robe draped over his wide shoulders, his chiseled features as downcast as it was humanly possible to be and still be alive. A desultory motion was his signal. He hardly bothered to glance up when Nate and Long Holy came over.
Taking his cue from Long Holy, Nate moved to the right of the chief and slowly sank down. Because he didn’t care to offend his host by implying Mighty Thunder in Sky couldn’t be trusted, Nate had left his Hawken propped against the lodge wall near the entrance.
“Greetings,” the chief said in a desultory fashion. “I welcome you. It is an honor to have you as my guest.” To say the esteemed leader of the whole Shoshone tribe was heavy of heart would have been an understatement. Mighty Thunder in Sky’s entire body slumped as under an enormous weight. Sha
dows under his eyes and his stooped posture told of his profound emotional turmoil, of his many hours without sleep or nourishment. He made an effort to square his shoulders that only made the robe slip off on one side. “I have been informed who you are,” he said to Nate. “And that you urgently needed to see me.”
“Yes,” Nate confirmed.
“No doubt you know my only brother has been killed and scalped.” Mighty Thunder in Sky hitched the robe back up. “He was found with his hair gone and three holes in his body.”
“Bullet holes?”
“No, Grizzly Killer. Arrow holes. Whoever shot him and those with him went around afterward and removed all the shafts.”
“I have never heard of anyone doing that before,” Nate commented.
“Neither have I. Perhaps they feared we would be able to learn which tribe was involved from the markings on their arrows.”
“That could be,” Nate admitted, since arrows, like moccasins, were variously made by various tribes. “But enemies usually do not hide the taking of scalps. It is a deed they are proud of.”
“There is much about the death of Dog with Horns that puzzles me,” the chief admitted. “Why was he coming here? Who would have been brazen enough to attack him so deep in our own country? Why did they work so hard to hide all trace of their identity? Even the lengths they went to in order to avoid being trailed was exceptional.”
He stared inquisitively at Nate. “Word has reached me that you saw him just a few sleeps before his death. Did you speak to him?”
“Yes,” Nate said.
“Did he give you any idea why he was on his way here?”
This was the moment of truth. Literally. Nate could lie, in which case Mighty Thunder in Sky might become unduly hostile later on when he learned the truth, or Nate could own up to what had really happened and hope for the best. He opted to be frank. “Dog with Horns was going to try and convince you not to agree to establishing a truce with the Utes over Bow Valley.”
“What truce? This is the first I have heard of it?”
“I was visited by Two Owls, a Ute chief. He asked me to speak to you on his behalf. If you agree peace would be in the best interests of both tribes, you are invited to a council to be held in Bow Valley during the Rose Moon.”
Mighty Thunder in Sky was a study in confusion. “And my brother knew all this? That is why he came to the village of Broken Paw?”
“Yes.”
“This makes no sense. How could he have learned that you intended to see me?”
“I asked, but Dog with Horns would not reveal who relayed the news to him.”
“What else did he say to you?”
“He was most insistent on not making peace. When he was unable to persuade Broken Paw, he rushed off to come here,” Nate hedged. He decided it would be smarter not to mention that Dog with Horns had publicly branded him an enemy.
The chief gazed into the fire for a full minute without speaking. Then he suddenly lifted his head and called out, “Food. A lot of food. And hurry.” Squaring his shoulders, he threw the robe down and said gruffly, “Enough mourning! I must learn the truth of this matter, and to do so I must be at my full strength.”
“If there is anything I can do to help ...” Nate said, and received a hawkish scrutiny for his overture.
“Later, after I have eaten and washed, we will talk at length about this truce and about my brother.”
“Very well,” Nate said. Taking the statement as a dismissal, he began to rise.
“Hold, Grizzly Killer,” Mighty Thunder in Sky said. “Before you leave I would like your opinion on something.” He indicated one of his wives, then nodded toward the side of the lodge where the shadows were dark. “While no arrows or tracks were found at the site of the slaughter, we did find two things that might help us find those who are to blame.”
Nate saw the wife pick up a large object and carry it over. She approached from directly behind her husband, so the item she carried was not in clear view until she gave it to the chief.
“Here is one of them,” Mighty Thunder in Sky said, holding it up.
Nate stared. And stared. A frigid chill enveloped his body and he barely suppressed a shudder. For suspended by its strap from the chief’s weathered hand was a parfleche. Not just any parfleche either. It was theirs, the one belonging to his family, the one stolen when the packhorse was taken back on the trail to Broken Paw’s village! The implications were staggering.
“Are you all right?” the chief unexpectedly inquired.
“Yes,” Nate replied.
“You looked as if a spirit had sat in your lap.”
“My stomach has been acting poorly lately,” Nate said, since pleading illness was better than the alternative. How, he asked himself, could he possibly explain the situation to the chief’s satisfaction?
“This was found near where my brother and the warriors with him were slain,” Mighty Thunder in Sky was saying. “It is most peculiar they had it with them since men traveling without wives and children always live off the land as they go. And no other parfleches were found.” He set it down and ran a hand over the beads decorating the flap. “Yet this was made by a Shoshone woman. Of that there can be no doubt.”
Indian women from one tribe never made anything exactly like the women from another tribe. Styles varied greatly. And within each tribe, every woman took pains to put as much individuality and creativity into every article she produced so that no two were ever the same. If ten women tossed ten parfleches into one big pile, they would have no problem finding their own again later. There wasn’t another parfleche anywhere in the Shoshone nation exactly similar to the one the chief was examining, the one Winona had made, the one many of her relatives and friends had seen and would no doubt be able to identify if Mighty Thunder in Sky should take it into his head to have the parfleche taken around from village to village in an effort to identify its owner.
In confirmation of Nate’s misgiving, the chief commented, “Long Holy thinks it would be a good idea to have the parfleche shown publicly for every woman in the tribe to inspect. Perhaps that way we could find who made it.”
“Doing so would take many sleeps, more than a full moon,” Nate mentioned.
“I do not care how long the task takes,” Mighty Thunder in Sky said. “Not if I can uncover a clue as to who took my brother’s life.” The parfleche received an angry smack. “And I will find them! I will take their hair in vengeance! And their wives and children will be taken captive! Everyone will see what it means to tempt my wrath.”
A fierce gleam lit the chief’s eyes, a gleam that transformed Nate’s stomach into a giant knot. Mighty Thunder in Sky wasn’t about to listen to the voice of reason, not where the death of Dog with Horns was concerned. Nate thought of Winona and their children and of the fate they might suffer if the chief learned the truth about the parfleche, and he wanted to pound something himself.
“But enough of my personal problems,” Mighty Thunder in Sky declared. “Leave me now. Return when the sun is straight overhead and we will talk again.”
The fresh air was a tonic for Nate’s frayed nerves. As he strode toward Long Holy’s lodge he tried to figure out the best course to take. For years he had instructed his son that honesty should be uppermost in all dealings with others, but this time he wasn’t so sure. Given the frame of mind Mighty Thunder in Sky was in, the truth might get his family and him slain.
“What is wrong with them?” his companion abruptly asked.
Glancing up, Nate saw Standing Bull, Little Raven, and four other braves a dozen yards to the east, hurrying in the general direction of the chief’s lodge. They were conversing excitedly, arguing from the looks of it. Suddenly Little Raven spotted him and whispered to the others, all of whom then adopted flinty expressions. Nate wondered why.
“You go on ahead. I will come later,” Long Holy said, turning and hastening after his friends.
Nate did as bidden, his uneasy feeling growing with eac
h step he took. Something had happened, but he was at a loss for an answer until he came within sight of Long Holy’s dwelling and saw his wife and son anxiously awaiting him.
“Pa!” Zach declared, running to his side. “You’ll never guess who we found right here in the village!”
“Who?”
“Stockings.”
Stopping short, Nate looked back. So that explained the attitude of the others! Stockings was the name Zach had given the packhorse that was stolen. “Where did you see him?” he asked.
“Why, tied to a stake near Standing Bull’s lodge, of all places,” the boy answered. “I couldn’t believe my eyes.”
Winona came up, Evelyn tucked tenderly in her arms. “Long Holy’s wives were showing us around the village,” she explained. “When Zach saw our horse he went to pet it. Standing Bull appeared and demanded to know what we were doing with his animal. It seems he took possession of it after Stockings was found near where Dog with Horns was killed.” She frowned. “He became quite upset and went off in a rush.”
A premonition of grave danger stabbed into Nate’s core. “Where are Long Holy’s wives now?”
“They left as soon as we came back,” Winona said. Of course they had, Nate reflected. They were off spreading the story to all their friends. By nightfall everyone would know. His more immediate concern, however, was how the high chief would react. “Saddle your horses,” he directed. “Forget the pack animal. We’ll have to travel light and fast.”
“What’s wrong, Pa?” Zach asked. “Why are we leaving?”
“I’ll fill you in later.” Nate stared at each of them in turn. “Trust me on this. And hurry. If we’re not gone when Long Holy comes back, we could find ourselves in a heap of trouble.”
When a man and a woman have been husband and wife for any length of time, living together twenty-four hours of every day, doing everything from eating to sleeping together, sharing everything they have and everything they are, an implicit trust builds up between them. Often the closeness of their sharing results in a bond so deep and so intense they can practically read the other’s thoughts. So it was with Nate and Winona. She had only to see into his eyes to know they were in dire straits, and her implicit trust of his judgment and devotion was such that she raced to do as he requested without a word of argument.
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