The crowd yelled their approval.
The local barber looked around. “So what should we do about it?”
Everyone stared at one another uncertainly.
This was his chance. Billy said, “General Howard is going to need some volunteers if he’s gonna fight Injuns. You people need to get organized.”
The crowd roared uncertainly.
“Now, just a blame minute,” argued the fat saloon owner, “that’s what taxpayers have soldiers for. Besides, we shouldn’t get all fired up yet. Maybe the Nez Perce will turn in the killers and things’ll get peaceable again.”
“Injun lover!” Deek spat tobacco juice on the man’s dusty shoes. “ ’Course we all know why you’d hesitate; you sell the red devils whiskey!”
The crowd grumbled in agreement.
“Hey,” said another, “why don’t we go see what Parson Harlow thinks?”
“He’ll probably tell us to pray over it,” the gunsmith snorted, “seeings as how he’s a man of the cloth and got a half-Injun ward besides.”
“Well, we could at least include him,” the hardware store owner insisted.
Billy wanted to see Willow again. If he was leading this group, he’d look like a powerful man in her eyes. “While we wait for General Howard to get here, we could go ask the reverend his opinion; maybe make some plans to defend the town!”
The restless crowd roared their approval and began to move down the street. A mob was a mindless thing like a brainless monster, but powerful, Billy thought with a grin as he began the march; all it needed was someone to get it moving in the right direction. They followed along as he and Deek Tanner marched toward the parson’s house.
Billy went up and banged loudly on the door while the crowd waited. No answer. He banged again. Puzzled, Billy turned and looked at the crowd. “Anyone seen him this morning?”
There was a murmur and shaking of heads. “He was at that christening party last night,” a slab-sided woman offered.
Billy began to get a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. The parson was a familiar figure around town; it wasn’t like him not to appear downtown of a morning. “There might just be something wrong,” he announced importantly to the crowd, although he hadn’t the foggiest idea if that were true. Now all attention was centered on him and he liked that. “Follow me, men; you ladies might want to wait outside.”
He knew that scent the moment he walked into the house; blood and the cloying smell of death. Billy took a deep breath, gulped to keep from vomiting; that wouldn’t look good at all. Had something happened to Willow before Billy ever got to sleep with her even once? The possible reality made his heart quicken with dread as he led the men inside and they began to search.
“Hey, Lieutenant,” Deek yelled from the study, “come in here quick!”
Oh, God, if that sweet little wench was dead. . . .
Billy hurried to the parlor. The reverend lay sprawled on his face, one scrawny hand clutching a belt. The room was in disarray, a lamp broken, a nearby table turned over as if the old man had stumbled over it as he fell. “Deek, turn him over.”
The big scout obliged and Billy gulped hard. The old man’s eyes were wide open, his face distorted with rage and pain as if he could not believe what was happening. His other hand clutched his chest and a black bruise marked his wrinkled forehead.
Deek cleared his throat. “Heart attack; maybe.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Billy said grandly, standing up. “Something violent happened here last night. I—”
“Hey, Lieutenant!” the barber yelled from a back room. “You better come, there’s blood in here!”
God, if that hot little squaw was dead before Billy ever got to . . .
“No sign of the girl, though,” the barber said as Billy ran into the bedroom.
Billy looked around. Something violent had happened here last night; there was no doubt of it. Across the rumpled white sheets and across the carpet were drops of blood. “All right, men, spread out and look all over the property; we may find poor Miss Willow’s body next.”
The excitement and the intrigue appealed to the crowd. They obeyed, searching around while the women came into the house, shrieked and were properly shocked.
“Oh, Lieutenant,” the storekeeper’s plump wife asked, “what do you think happened?”
He didn’t have the vaguest idea. Billy looked at Deek Tanner.
“Maybe Injuns.”
“Injuns?” Billy smiled. Of course, Injuns. “All right, folks, the scout’s right. There’s no doubt in my mind, what’s happened; those dirty redskins have killed this saintly man and carried off his innocent ward.”
An excited murmur ran though the mob and the ladies looked at one another. “Lieutenant, what-what do you suppose them savages will do with her?”
“Oh, dear lady,” Billy said, rolling his eyes at the slab-sided woman, “I-I dare not voice my thoughts to such innocent ears.” He knew what he’d do to that beauty if he got the chance, he couldn’t blame the savages if they did the same.
The murmur of dismay became almost a roar.
“Oh, my, just think of the horror of it!” the mayor’s wife breathed. “Her so innocent and all them savage, virile bucks.” She didn’t look horrified, Billy thought, she looked wistful.
“ ’ppears to me,” Deek scratched thoughtfully, “Miss Willow might still be alive, since we didn’t find no body.”
“Well,” sputtered the blacksmith, “she’s gone to a fate worse than death if all them Injun braves has—”
“Watch your mouth,” Billy cautioned, “there’s ladies present.” In his mind, he saw Willow with her silky thighs spread, some big buck like that Bear or Raven mounting her. Billy had meant to be the first to enjoy her innocence. The fact that some savage might have beat him to it enraged him.
He gestured for silence. “I think I’d better report back to the fort what’s happened here.”
“Them Nez Perce will be on the run,” Deek said, pushing his hat back on his greasy, tangled hair.
“Then we’ll just have to gather a troop, go after them.” Billy was angry; really angry. He still wanted Willow’s pretty body and the rich expanse of land that the reverend had promised as a dowry. Would she still inherit it, even with the old rascal dead? “If poor Miss Willow can be rescued, I intend to do it. After I talk with General Howard, the army’ll make those savages rue the day they ever began this campaign of rape and murder! ”
Twelve
Rainbow watched the activity in the camp around her. Everyone was taking down tents, gathering up livestock, making ready to clear out, move to the new reservation before the soldiers came.
She licked her dry lips while folding some smoked salmon into a packet. She needed some whiskey. Oh, she had tried to fight this overpowering urge, but it was more than she could control. Furtively, she glanced over at the old grandmother, her plump younger sister, Atsi, gathering blankets. Her son, little Wolf, played happily in the dirt, completely oblivious to the confusion and activity around him.
Rainbow tried to concentrate on her task, but all she could think of was the taste of whiskey. When she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, or ran her tongue over her lips, it almost seemed as if she could taste and smell the scent of liquor. It was powerful magic, all right. The first time Rainbow had tasted it was less than a year ago when she wanted to dull the anguish of her young warrior husband’s death. At first, she had traded bead work and fresh-caught salmon to the shopkeepers for the numbing whiskey. Soon, she had run out of anything to trade, but she must have the liquor that numbed her brain and heart so much, she could not feel the pain of loss.
That was when the storekeeper, with a grin and a wink, suggested that a pretty little Nez Perce woman had something else of value she could trade.
At first, Rainbow had been horrified and shook her head, then fled. But she had to have a drink; her body craved it. Later, she discovered that when she was half drunk lying on a pile of bur
lap bags in the storeroom with the storekeeper pawing her naked body and using her for his pleasure, she was hardly aware of the shameful thing he did to her.
Humiliated, she resolved that she would stay away from the settlement, try to raise her little boy as a strong, brave warrior and be helpful to the old woman and her little sister. However, the lure of liquor brought her back to the trader’s store.
By now, winks and snickers had spread the word about the pretty Nez Perce widow. More and more often, Rainbow ended up helplessly drunk with some panting soldier or trader using her in the grass, a barn, or a storeroom. Sometimes, Rainbow couldn’t even remember who the man had been . . . or how many there had been. That only added to her shame and humiliation.
Always, she swore she would do better, not bring shame to her people. However, word had even spread among the Nez Perce and no warrior offered to take her as his wife. A woman who would mate with any man for goods or money, brought shame to a proud people. Finally, Rainbow didn’t care anymore as long as she got whiskey. Maybe tomorrow, far from here as the tribe moved, she would make a fresh start, try again to be a good mother to her child, but today . . .
Whiskey. The need was overpowering. Somewhere in the settlement or at the fort, some man would offer her a drink in exchange for . . . what difference did that make? She would get her drink and catch up with the moving tribe before she was even missed. Glancing around to make sure no one saw her, Rainbow slipped into the shadows of the big trees. The nakaz, the grandmother, was busy packing up, her younger sister was playing with the little son. Yes, she would get her liquor and be back before she was even missed. Satisfied with that, Rainbow headed for the fort.
Once, General Howard had even held the defiant old chief, Too-hool-hool-zote, hostage, to make sure the Nez Perce moved to the smaller reservation as they were ordered. Although the young warriors smoldered with fury and resentment, the chiefs had agreed with Joseph that they had no other option but to comply. In vain, they argued for a delay because it was spring and the rivers were running at swift flood stage from recent rains and melted snow. Again, Howard, under orders from his superiors in Washington, had no choice but to show the tribe the rifle, let them know in no uncertain terms that he would put them on the reservation by force. When Joseph agreed to comply with moving his people and his livestock, the general released old Too-hool-hool-zote.
So it was that Joseph was off rounding up livestock when Raven and his friends made their raid and created new trouble. Bear and some of the other leaders hurried the tribe into moving, knowing the soldiers would be coming soon.
They were on the move all day, but finally, it was night and the weary people had to rest. Raven had not ridden near his brother or spoken to either of them all day. Bear and Willow retired to their tipi. Outside, warriors sat around fires, beat drums and talked about what might happen next, but Willow and Bear were content to pull off their buckskins and lie in each other’s arms in the privacy of their own lodge and stare into the little fire.
Bear stroked her hair. “Perhaps the worst is over and we can make some kind of a life for ourselves at the new place. Are you sorry, Willow?”
“About what? We’ll make the general’s deadline with a day or two to spare.” She traced one of the scars on his massive shoulder with the tip of her finger.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I meant about me; about everything. If you were, I don’t know if I could stand it.”
She lay her face against his bare chest and closed her eyes. “Here is where I belong, forever in your arms, my warrior. If something happened to you, I would not want to live.”
“Don’t say that.” He held her close in the circle of his powerful embrace and kissed the tip of her nose. “The people must survive; that is the important thing. I would want you to go on living, helping the people if I died. Our custom is that the widow marry one of her husband’s brothers.”
That made her think again of the handsome Raven. “Do you suppose he will ever forgive either of us? I feel so responsible and he’s so angry.”
“I know, my little love. Still, I have hopes that someday, when he is needed most, he will yet fight like a Nez Perce warrior, and do some great thing. For what other reason could the great god, Hunyewat, have caused me to save him from the grizzly?”
She looked up at him. “You think there’s a plan behind all things?”
He nodded and hugged her close. “It comforts me when the world seems tilted and nothing makes any sense. Why else did a green-eyed woman come all the way from Boston?”
“You think our love was meant to be, too?” She leaned against him, listening to his strong heartbeat.
“Of course. Why else would you have come and stepped off that stage at the very moment I was riding down the street?”
She laughed and reached up for his kiss. “I’ll try to remember that whatever happens, we are in the hand of the great God. I’m not sure Reverend Harlow would understand.”
“Twice, I have almost died,” Bear said as if thinking aloud. “That time I saved Raven from the grizzly and once when I was a very young boy.”
“Oh?”
He nodded. “I fell into a river and a Cheyenne dog soldier named Iron Knife saved my life. My father gave him a very fine Appaloosa colt as a gift of thanks. I didn’t know it all these years, but I was destined to live so that I could love you.”
They both fell silent then, each with his own thoughts. Perhaps, she thought with a sense of relief, the crabby old preacher had washed his hands of her and wouldn’t demand she be returned. Anyway, priggish Lieutenant Warton wouldn’t be interested in her now that she had become a warrior’s woman.
“You promised me a son,” he whispered, “a grandson for my dead warrior father. It is good to have strong sons to carry on our family line.” He kissed her slowly, lingeringly.
“Oh, Bear, I love you so. I will give your family sons; many sons.” She kissed him fervently.
Against the echoing rhythm of drums in the night, she heard the faint wail of a voice she recognized and sighed. “Little Cub, he’s lonely for his mother.”
“She’s not much of a mother or even a Nez Perce woman,” Bear snorted, “sneaking away to get whiskey and being left behind. You make a better mother for the boy than she does.”
“Then if she decides not to return, we may have to raise him and the little sister; the grandmother is old.”
Bear laughed. “I intend to give you so many children, two strays mixed in will hardly be noticed.”
Willow reached to bite his nipple and she heard his sharp intake of breath. “So far,” she whispered, “all I’ve gotten tonight are promises, but not much action in that direction.”
“You shameless chit.” His voice went husky with passion. “I’ll show you action. How many times can you take me tonight?” His hand reached to stroke her breast.
“How many times am I offered?” she whispered, and then she kissed him deeply, hotly.
With a groan, he rolled over on his back, pulled her on top of him. “I surrender. Use me for your pleasure, green-eyed chit.”
And she used him, all right, again and again until they were both panting and breathless. Then they dropped off to sleep, locked in each other’s arms, lulled by the beat of the drums and the rhythmic chanting of the people gathered to dance around the fire.
Outside, someone had brought out a bottle of whiskey and the young men conducted a Tal-La-Klee-Tsa parade, boasting of their war honors. Raven knew he had no honors to boast of, but after a few drinks of whiskey, it didn’t matter anymore. He glanced toward his brother’s tipi. Inside, he knew Bear would be making love to Willow, putting his son in her warm belly. The thought caused Raven great anguish. He took another drink. Now nothing seemed to matter anymore. His friends were in the same condition, drinking wildly as they danced.
One of the old men sneered. “You young pups take part in this Tal-La-Klee-Tsa, when you have no right to; no brave deeds to your credi
t.”
The group looked at one another, shamefaced that others, especially the women were listening.
The old man gestured again. “You, Wahlitit, you did not even avenge the murder of your own father by white settlers in the Salmon River country that time.”
Raven caught his friend’s arm as he saw the anger flare behind the dark eyes. “Forget his taunts, he is an old man.”
“True,” the old man said, nodding, “but a warrior nonetheless; not one of you pups can say the same.”
Wahlitit swayed on his feet. “I will go now and avenge my father’s death. I will show this old man I can take revenge. Friends, are you with me?”
Raven hesitated, but Wahlitit’s cousin, Sarpsis Ilpihlp, nodded eagerly. “Pony and I will go with you, my cousin, even if Raven is afraid—”
“It isn’t that; you saw what trouble some of us got into last night,” Raven protested.
Five Stars said, “I am Paloose, not Nez Perce, and this is not really my concern.”
“I think I will not go, either,” Raven agreed.
Wahlitit threw back his head and laughed. “Are you afraid of your brother, Raven? Will he scold you like a tikash, a cradleboard baby? Do not worry, he is too busy tonight with the woman you chose for yourself.”
Raven came to his feet, fists clenched. “I am not a meopkowit, a little baby! I will ride with you!” he declared. “We will show everyone we have the right to ride with the other warriors in this ceremony.” Pushing all misgivings to the back of his mind, he stumbled after his friends who were more drunk than he was.
They bridled their horses, grabbed weapons, and rode out into the warm June night at a gallop. He would show everyone he was as brave as Bear; as brave as their dead father.
The young warriors in a drunken anger, gathered other angry warriors and burned and looted throughout the area over the next several days. With Joseph gone, there was no reasoning or stopping them.
Song Of The Warrior Page 16
