It was only Yellow Hair he wanted. At a push, he wouldn’t care if Mulligan died too. The sergeant was known for heavy handed treatment but he had never heard of him abusing any of the women. He had no grudge against the rest of the soldiers. Sure they could be kinder but they were fighting men not women in skirts.
Little Beaver paced back and forth. The wind grew stronger, the ice it contained hitting his face like shards of glass. It would get worse when darkness fell. He made his way back to the caves where his horse sheltered. First he would make sure his animal was warm and in no danger from the weather. Then he’d make a decision about the men outside.
He lit a small fire. His horse whined as if to say thank you. He moved closer and nudged Little Beaver. “So you have an opinion too? Do you think I should try to bring those men here to safety?”
The horse didn’t answer. Little Beaver hobbled him as he had seen the white man do. He didn’t want the horse getting spooked and venturing out into the wilderness. Not tonight. Last thing he needed was the death of this loyal animal on his conscience. He ate some of the dried meat he had brought with him as he stared into the fire. What should he do?
A shout from below had him jumping to his feet. It sounded like the horses had run off which left the soldiers more vulnerable. Had the scout let them go on purpose? That would be madness. Unless he wished the soldiers to die too.
Cursing he grabbed the rope from his horse. He tied one end securely to an outcrop of rock in the cave and dragging the rope behind him made his way back to the ledge. The snow was falling quite heavily now making visibility difficult. Soon it would be impossible. He kept moving slowly. He didn’t want one of the soldiers to shoot him.
He sent out an owl call, his signal to the scout. He waited for a response but none came. He tried again, this time the call was answered.
“Tell your leader and his men, I will take them to shelter.” Little Beaver told the scout.
‘He would rather kill you first.” Black Elks gruff reply floated back to Little Beaver.
“Tell him his men will all be dead by morning. The storm is closing in fast. We must move quickly.”
Little Beaver waited. He could dimly make out figures moving below. The scout soon replied.
“He said you are to surrender. Then we will all go home.”
“Home? He couldn’t find his way to the end of the trail. None of us could. Not tonight. If he won’t come, I have a rope here. If you follow it, you will find a cave and a fire. Save yourself.”
‘For what? They will only kill me when they catch me. I would rather die a man than run away.” Black Elk’s tone was final.
Little Beaver understood the Indian’s point and couldn’t argue with him. But he didn’t want to cause his death either. Why did I make this plan? Why listen to the angry spirits when everyone told me it was wrong? Now He is punishing all of us.
Little Beaver moved further down, keeping the rope close. The captain got into an argument with one of the men. Little Beaver watched as the lower ranked man jumped onto his horse. A gun shot rang out. Little Beaver ducked instinctively, but it had been fired in the opposite direction. The captain shot the mounted soldier in the back leaving the horse to run off riderless.
Little Beaver stood with the shock of what he had witnessed. It was one thing to kill an enemy but to shoot someone in the back was the actions of a coward. The captain had no scruples whatsoever.
He saw a uniform slightly ahead of him. Moving quickly, he pulled the man backwards towards the ledge. With relief he saw it was Mulligan, the sergeant he had heard arguing with the captain.
“Do not talk. Listen. The snow will kill you if your officer doesn’t shoot you first.”
Mulligan didn’t move an inch. “Was that the captain’s gun? His aim was off if you are still standing.”
“It wasn’t me he was shooting at. The dead man wears a blue coat.”
Mulligan swore.
“You recognize me?”
Mulligan nodded.
“I heard you talking to the captain. You tried to reason with him. You believe your men will die if they stay out here.”
Mulligan didn’t respond. Everything Little Beaver said was true.
“I will help you.”
“Why?” Mulligan spat.
“It’s the right thing to do.”
Mulligan looked doubtful.
“You can trust me.” Little Beaver wished the man would hurry up. The weather was getting worse.
This time it took a few seconds before Mulligan nodded. “If you turn around, you will find a rope. Follow that rope, it will lead you to a cave and a fire. Stay there until your friends reach you. By morning we will know if it is safe to leave.”
Little Beaver risked turning his back.
“The men will not trust you. I will wait here and tell them to follow your instructions. Watch out for Captain Shopshire. He is out for your blood.”
Little Beaver nodded once to show he understood before he turned back. He had to find a way to speed this up. It would take all night otherwise.
He decided to risk running past a small group of soldiers and leading them back toward the rope. He guessed the weather would have frozen their guns. At least he hoped so.
His ploy worked. The men followed him. He stopped and waited for them to catch up.
Mulligan moved forward before the men had time to react. “Come on men, grab this rope and let’s get out of here before we all freeze to death.”
“But, Sarge, the captain will have us in the stockade.”
“The captain can’t punish a dead man. This isn’t a mutiny. We are searching for the Indian. Wakefield you saw him head for the cave up there didn’t you?”
Wakefield grunted obviously unwilling to commit himself one way or another.
“Ok men, you heard him. Captains orders, we have to bring in that Indian.”
He pushed the man nearest him toward the rope and they all started moving slowly up toward the cave.
“Go on get the others. Don’t care what you do with the captain but make sure you get Miles, Canfield and Murphy. The scout too, he’s a good sort. And young Littleton. The poor boy is only seventeen, he lied about his age.”
Little Beaver grinned to himself. Mulligan obviously thought he was older than seventeen. He moved quickly back toward the area where the soldiers had been standing. The scout spotted him. He crept over to find out what the new plan was. Little Beaver explained quickly. After some convincing the scout helped him round up the men.
After all were accounted for, Mulligan started moving up the rope, his hands rosy red from the cold. “Here take this. You will lose some fingers if you do not get warm soon. When you get to the cave, don’t let the men get too warm too quickly. Let it happen slowly or they will get a chill.”
Mulligan let the rope go and held out his hand to take the rabbit skin mittens and shake Little Beaver’s hand. “For a savage, you are a real gentleman.” He winked before putting his hands back on the rope. “There’s only the captain left.”
Little Beaver’s nostrils flared. “I will deal with him.”
“I won’t tell you how to live your life but believe me, my friend, that man is not worth stretching your neck for.”
With that, the sergeant was gone.
Chapter 31
Little Beaver waited near the rope until he was sure the men had moved on some distance. Then he went looking for the captain. The snow was swirling around them now making visibility worse. It was also difficult to hear anything other than the noise of the wind. But fear he could smell. He relished the idea the captain was afraid. How he wished Asha was with him. She could see her abuser reduced to the pathetic individual he was.
“Who goes there? Identify yourself soldier.” Captain Shopshire commanded.
Little Beaver said nothing. He threw a stick which fell somewhere behind the captain causing him to whirl around. He had drawn his weapon. Let’s get rid of that. A well placed stick cau
ght the captain on the wrist making him drop his weapon by reflex. He bent down probably intent on retrieving it. This was the chance Little Beaver had been waiting for.
He leaped forward catching the captain with his knee sending him flying backwards. Before the captain could react, Little Beaver was on him. His weak arm didn’t stop him. Every punch he delivered was for someone he knew this man had mistreated. Kind Mrs. Murphy and the children Murphy would never have. Chief White Moon and the rest of his people starving to death slowly by this man’s hand. But the majority of his punches were for Asha. His sweet Asha whose innocence this coward had stolen and abused. He kept going until the captain didn’t fight back.
“Come on get up. Fight like a man.”
There was no answer. Had he died already?
Little Beaver checked the pulse at his neck. It was still beating. It looked like the masterful captain had passed out.
He spat at the man’s uniform and turned back in the direction of the tree where he tied the end of the rope. The man was in his God’s hands now. It was his choice whether he lived or died.
Little Beaver made his way slowly. It wasn’t the weather slowing him down but his own conscious. Lessons he had learnt from various people tumbled through his head but it was Wilma’s words that struck him most. She had said, “Don’t let the anger eat away your heart, your goodness, as then evil has won.”
With a loud curse only fit for his ears, Little Beaver turned back toward where the captain still lay, his uniform freezing to the forest floor. With a muffled groan caused by his weak arm, he heaved the man onto his back and set off for the rope and the safety in the cave.
By the time he arrived, he was almost as frozen as the man he carried. The soldiers stared at him, some with hatred but most with shock. Mulligan frowned as if he blamed Little Beaver for not leaving the man to die.
“Sergeant, he killed the captain. What do we do?”
“Give him a medal,” One of the men said, but Little Beaver wasn’t sure who it was.
He placed the captain on the floor near the fire. He gestured to the Indian scout to bring him some hides he had left some time earlier in the cave. Addressing Mulligan, he asked them to strip off the wet frozen uniform and wrap the captain in the skins. His uniform could dry by the fire.
Little Beaver took a seat at the opposite end of the cave to where the captain lay. The scout came over to speak to him but he closed his eyes pretending he was asleep. He couldn’t answer anyone’s questions about why he brought his enemy to safety. He wasn’t sure himself.
Chapter 32
“Asha, Mr. Aaron wants to speak with you. I think you should hear him out.”
Asha looked at Wilma before looking at Samuel's brother. His face was rosy and he couldn’t meet her eyes. Her stomach churned. She wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
“Asha, I want to marry you.”
“Why? You don't know me.”
“I owe Little Beaver. Well, my family does.”
Stunned, Asha didn’t know what to say.
“He can't marry you. Well, he could but then he would have to live on the reservation.”
Asha didn’t argue. What Aaron said was true.
“I know you have feelings for him but you wouldn’t want that.” Aaron played with his hat. “This way, you will be safe. All of you.”
Asha tried to talk but her tongue was all twisted. She sat down.
Wilma sat beside her taking one of her hands. “Can't you see it’s for the best? The sheriff told us the soldiers are coming back. They intend taking you to the reservation.”
“Let them try,” Asha retorted but even she knew it was pointless. She was alone and pregnant against a troop of armed men.
“Asha, child. We have all come to care for you. We love Little Beaver and want him to be safe too. We are worried he will do something stupid.”
“Did he go after the soldiers? Is that why he not call on m... Rosa and John?” Asha corrected herself quickly.
“He gave up his badge. The sheriff tried to talk him out of it, but he wasn’t in the mood to listen. One thing you Indians share is a streak of stubbornness a mile wide.” Wilma smiled but Asha couldn’t smile. Her heart was breaking. She looked at the man who was prepared to marry her. He looked more uncomfortable than she did.
“Do you not have a woman?”
“Me? No, ma'am,” Aaron mumbled. “I'll treat you well. You won't ever go hungry or be scared again. Not while I can help it.”
“Asha, please say yes. For the sake of your babe, if not yourself. For Little Beaver.”
Asha closed her eyes. She had lain awake night after night praying for an answer. She knew she wouldn’t be welcome at the reservation. While she talked about going into the mountains, she didn’t want to live alone. She liked the people in Clover Springs. She wanted to stay here. With Little Beaver. Well that wasn’t possible. At least this way, she would see him from time to time. He would be safe too. She knew if she went into the mountains he would follow her. He would become a fugitive to be hunted down and killed. She couldn’t do that to the man she loved.
“Yes, I will marry you. How?”
Aaron’s face lit up. “You will?” He leaned forward as if to kiss her but stopped.
Would he expect a real marriage? Would he be kind? Panic stricken, she looked at Wilma.
“Aaron, can you go tell Reverend Tim, she said yes.”
“Yes, ma’am.” In his haste to go, he didn’t say anything to Asha.
“Reverend Tim agreed to marry you. Aaron checked with him before he asked you.”
“Wilma, is this the only way?”
“I think so, child. It’s all we can think of. I know it’s not what you want but Aaron is a kind man. He will be patient and understanding. In time you may grow to love him.”
Asha doubted that. She couldn’t imagine having feelings for any man other than Little Beaver, never mind a white one. But Wilma was right. There was more at stake here than her happiness. This would give her baby a home and keep Little Beaver safe. It would have to be enough.
Chapter 33
“Take that horse outside, he stinks.” A soldier complained.
“You go outside, the horse stays.” Little Beaver snarled having lost his patience for these white men some days previously. The blizzard hadn’t broken for any length of time leaving them all stuck in a small cave. The mixture of body odors, smoke from wood that wasn’t quite dry and the rank scent coming from the cave itself, he yearned to race across the meadow on horseback.
The soldiers whined constantly. If they weren’t moaning about the water dripping down their necks from the cracks in the roof of the cave, they were complaining the stone floor was too cold to sleep properly. Looking around him, Little Beaver wished over and over he had listened to his friends in Clover Springs and not gone looking for trouble.
The captain had taken hours to regain consciousness. Little Beaver wondered if he had punched him harder than he thought but an examination revealed a lump on his head. He must have hit a rock or something when he fell.
The wind howled as the snow kept falling. The visibility was so poor only Little Beaver and Black Elk, the Indian scout, risked going outside. They had tried to venture down to rescue some of the horses but were unsuccessful. They had managed to trap a couple of small animals. Initially, the soldiers declined to eat them but after a few days without food, they soon agreed. The captain was the exception; he ate everything.
One morning, when he obviously felt better, he shouted an order.
“Arrest this man and the scout too. They obviously planned the ambush.”
The soldiers looked to their sergeant to see if they should comply. They were sick of the officer and the way he treated them. Most didn’t agree with the way he treated the Indians either but they weren’t brave enough to say so.
“No point in arresting the man who saved your life, Captain. Ours too by my reckoning. We’d all be dead by now if it wasn’t fo
r Little Beaver. The soldiers murmured their consent. Perhaps the captain sensed he was vulnerable, it wouldn’t take much for the men to mutiny and leave him behind. He stopped mentioning arrest but his eyes followed Little Beaver everywhere.
The winds finally died down. Little Beaver scouted first before coming back to tell the soldiers their horses had either died or run off. There was nothing for it but to walk back toward the fort and hope a rescue party had been sent out to find the soldiers.
The captain, too badly bruised to walk, would have to ride Little Beaver’s horse. The men muttered, but they soon fell in line behind Little Beaver. Mulligan’s support won them over.
It took a long time to lead the party down the hazardous trail. Although the blanket of white looked pretty, it concealed many obstacles.
“Tell your men to be on guard for wild animals. They are hungry and will be more likely to attack.”
Mulligan delivered the message and the soldiers obeyed.
“Why did you not leave him? I would have.” Mulligan spat on the ground. “The man is a menace. He’s a disgrace to our uniform.”
“He is a human being. If I had left him, I would be the savage he thinks I am.”
“You know, I never knew any Indians until I got posted to the reservation. It’s not what I signed up for. I joined to fight to end slavery in the Civil War.”
“Yet here you are.”
Mulligans facial reaction to his comment made him wish he hadn’t spoken.
“Yes, here I am. But not for long. I have two years left and then I am going home. Got my eye on a little business. Might find myself a wife as well.”
Thanksgiving In Clover Springs Page 11
