The lieutenant leaned over to Deek. “I don’t suppose that’s really—?”
“Of course not!” Deek swore again. “Now you’ve gone and done it!”
In the moonlight, the officer’s baby face paled. “I forgot you said no smoking; no matches.”
“You forgot!” Deek bit off a chaw of tobacco in disgust. “I warned everybody them Nez Perce lookouts would see a flicker of fire, no matter how small. Reckon they smelled the scent of tobacco, too.”
How in the hell had he got hisself in a partnership with this sniveling little whelp? Billy Warton was liable to get the whole troop killed; possibly before they ever found the secret of the Nez Perce treasure. Deek decided right then and there, that if the Injuns didn’t get Billy, Deek would kill him himself, once he didn’t need him anymore. Deek had been raised by the Blackfeet and learned fast that to survive, a man looked out for himself and no one else.
The coyote call came again. Deek felt the sweat running down his hairy back as he pictured those braves lying out there in the brush, watching the column. There’d be no chance of surprise now. If he had any sense, he’d skedaddle and let this bunch of greenhorns ride in alone. ’Course, the Nez Perce were pretty peaceable and Captain Perry had a sizable force, what with the Injun scouts and the settler volunteers they’d picked up along the way.
Billy Warton wiped sweat from his weak chin. “Deek, you really think they’re out there?”
Deek snorted and spat tobacco juice. “I know they’re out there. Now hush up a’fore your blabber draws them in on us like flies on a dead mule.”
It would be dawn soon, Deek thought and the column was descending now into White Bird Canyon, the drainage system for White Bird Creek. The canyon extended maybe ten miles or so toward the southwest where the creek emptied into the Salmon River.
Deek stayed alert, watching the shadowy ridges that sloped toward the creek. This valley was a great place for an ambush. The peaceable Nez Perce interpreters and Shoshoni Injun scouts were as aware of that fact as he was, Deek thought as he scratched his dirty beard. He could see some of them in the moonlight; the way they kept looking around. The white soldiers hadn’t had much sleep in the past forty-eight hours and not much food, either, so they were dozing in their saddles. If there hadn’t been men riding behind him on the trail, blamed if Deek wouldn’t have turned and ridden out. As it was, his Blackfoot upbringing would save his scalp, maybe. The coyote that wasn’t a coyote howled again, and somewhere in the predawn darkness, another answered the first and the faint howl echoed across the hills.
No treasure would do him any good if he got killed for it, Deek thought, watching Ad Chapman, one of the civilian volunteers up ahead. Ad wore a white hat and it gleamed in the coming gray dawn. That would make one helluva target; the man must be stupid or loco. Deek shrugged his big shoulders. It didn’t make him no never mind.
Word came back along the column to halt and for Lieutenant Warton and Deek to join the captain up front. Billy’s expression looked as if he was about to puke. Yellow kid, Deek thought with disgust; too afraid to fight. He spat contemptuously and the two of them rode forward.
The captain wasn’t very old himself, Deek thought as they reined in next to him.
“Lieutenant, there’s seems to be a small group of Indians coming over that distant ridge; I’d swear they’re carrying a white flag.”
Billy stood up in his stirrups and peered into the lavender gray of the coming dawn. “You may be right, sir.”
“I’m going to send a little group out to parlay with them,” Captain Perry said.
There was a long moment of silence. The officer was evidently waiting for volunteers. Billy’s handsome face had turned pale as a dead frog’s belly.
Ad Chapman, nearby, said, “I’ll go.”
A couple of soldiers and an interpreter offered to go, too.
Deek leaned on his saddle horn and licked his yellow teeth. He wasn’t about to ride out there with a man presenting a big target with that white hat like Ad Chapman. “I’ll provide cover,” he said, “in case it’s a red-skinned trick.”
“Now,” the captain admonished, “remember, we aren’t here to start a major Indian war; our orders are to try to get the Nez Perce back to the reservation.”
Deek Tanner looked at the young officer with scorn. “Captain, they done started the war; but we may have to finish it.” He grinned and reached for his rifle. He carried an old-fashioned buffalo gun; a Sharps rifle. When a man took a hit from a Big Fifty, it left a hole big enough to put your fist through. He hoped the Nez Perce did try something; Deek hadn’t killed a man in a long time.
Bear reined in his mount in the shadowy grove of trees on the other side of the ridge; the white rag tied to his lance flapped gently in the dawn breeze. He looked around at the half-dozen warriors with him, including Raven and Chief Joseph. “You are certain this is what you want?”
The chief nodded, his face grave. “Even though my heart rebels, I know it will be better for my people if we do not fight the Pony Soldiers. We have few warriors, but many women, old ones and children.”
“We will parlay then,” Bear said, “but I do not trust them to keep their word.”
“We can hope,” Joseph answered. “If not, we have our other men positioned and we have the advantage with these high ridges.”
Bear nodded and reined his great horse around toward the soldiers in the distance. Joseph returned to join Ollokot in placing warriors in strategic positions should this attempt fail. Bear glanced over at Raven who looked a little drunk, but proud to have been asked to accompany the truce flag. He will yet one day be a man to be proud of, Bear thought. “Ride next to me, Raven.”
Raven squared his shoulders and fell in next to Bear as the two rode out toward the cavalry. “There have been things left unsaid between us. . . .”
“I know, but deep in our hearts, we are brothers; always remember that.”
“I am proud you chose me to go,” Raven said. “If I should be killed—”
“It is bad luck to speak like that,” Bear said sharply.
“It is only that I want to make things right. Sometimes people die and many things are left unsaid.”
Bear nodded. “Say no more; I understand.”
In the pale purple of the coming dawn, the little group of warriors rode out, the breeze flapping the white truce flag above Bear’s head as the hazy fog rose up off the valley. It felt good to have his brother riding at his side, to know he had a woman who loved him as he loved her. Somehow, there had to be a way for them to live in peace and freedom. He wanted nothing more than that. Behind him as they rode, he heard one of the other braves beginning to sing his warrior’s song very softly so that if he were to be killed today, it would not be left unsung. Bear wasn’t yet ready to concede that this attempt to parlay might fail.
The breeze came up with the dawn and he wondered if it were the hattia tinukin, the death wind, coming to carry some of their spirits away. He glanced back at Chief Joseph, riding among his warriors as they prepared for the worst. There might not be many of them, but the location on the high ground gave the Nez Perce the advantage.
Up ahead, he saw a couple of soldiers waiting, a man in a big white hat, that bearded scout that Raven had tangled with that day in town. Even as the Nez Perce rode closer, Bear saw the sudden movement as the scout reached for his rifle. The bullet sang past his head and he shouted for the warriors to defend themselves. They scattered, even as he saw Raven put his rifle to his shoulder on his dancing, nervous horse and fire, knocking the white hat off the big man, who promptly bolted for the rear.
“Warriors, take cover!” Bear shouted and threw down the truce flag even as he raised his own gun. The soldier bugler abruptly blew his horn, the sound sharp and shrill, echoing through the valley. Bear acted instinctively. He knew the soldiers would follow the sound of that bugle. He aimed as the bugle sounded again. The sound broke off in midnote and the man tumbled from his horse. Now the sol
dier chief would have a difficult time directing his men. With satisfaction, Bear rode his stallion behind some rocks that protected them both and reached for his cartridges.
Raven was slightly drunk, he thought suddenly as he watched his brother’s rearing horse dance about. There’d been whiskey at that last trader’s they had burned out. “Raven! Over here!”
His brother looked around as if bewildered, then galloped his horse behind the rocks and slid off. Bear tossed him his spare rifle and peered over the top of the boulder.
The soldiers milled in confusion and on the southern part of the ridge they occupied, there was little cover in the way of rocks or shrubs. Bear aimed and picked off a civilian. The Nez Perce had good cover and the advantage of the ridge. The white civilians and the young, green soldiers seemed terrified, confused. Only the Shoshoni scouts, old enemies of the Nez Perce, were fighting like seasoned men.
Below Bear, soldiers shouted in panic as one or another was hit, horses reared and neighed. The thunder of shots seemed to echo and reecho down the canyon. Men screamed in mortal pain and many panicked, attempting to retreat. The early morning sun reflected off the captain’s shoulder bars as he tried to rally his men, but the lack of a bugler to sound commands, the smoke and screams and scent of blood sent men scrambling to save themselves.
Bear got just a glimpse of Lieutenant Warton’s handsome face as he retreated down the valley, saw the bearded, ugly scout duck behind a boulder, but he was out of range. The valiant captain was still attempting to rally his men, but as part of them retreated, the panic spread and some of the white volunteers turned and fled. Bear’s heart beat faster with excitement as he waved to the warrior on a cliff. The lookout waved a red blanket, signaling the Nez Perce to press the attack. Bear mounted his stallion, and with a yell, he led the braves to harry the flanks of the retreating troops.
Willow, against Bear’s orders, had followed the truce party out to watch the happenings from the safety of the rocks. Now she watched with mixed emotions as the battle began. Below her, men were clutching their chests and falling, mortally wounded. Horses reared and galloped away at the scent of blood and gunpowder. Why, there was Billy Warton and that scout, Deek Tanner! Without thinking, she stood up to get a better look. A bullet sang past her head and she remembered and ducked back behind the rocks. Peeking over the edge, she watched the victorious Nez Perce pursuing the panicked soldiers and civilians back up the trail. She wished she could feel pleased, but all she could think of as she saw the blue-clad bodies sprawled in the distant brush was that somewhere tonight, women would mourn as women always did when their men were killed.
Abruptly, Bear was galloping back toward her. “You little fool!” He reached to lift her up on the stallion before him. “You could have been killed!”
She wasn’t afraid; not when she was safe in Bear’s strong arms. Willow sighed with relief. “Where’s Raven?”
He nodded back over his shoulder and grinned. “I think he’s harrying the soldiers all the way back to that town.” His chest seemed to swell with pride as he nudged his stallion into a lope down the ridge.
“What will happen now?” Willow leaned against his chest as they rode.
“Nothing good, I fear.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “At least, now our men will be better armed; they are picking up the weapons and cartridges from the dead soldiers. Joseph will want to call a meeting of his warriors to make plans.”
Willow closed her mind to the grim hardness of his voice. For whatever time they might have left, she would savor every moment with her man. It was only tragic that they could not find solace in their lovemaking because of the taboo. Perhaps soon, the Nez Perce would at least find a safe haven where they could live and love in peace.
Even Raven swaggered a little when the warriors gathered back in camp to assess the battle. In the ambush, the warriors had wiped out almost one-third of the troops and white volunteers and chased the survivors many miles while the whites fled like panicked rabbits. Five Wounds said that one of the dead men was young and wore a lieutenant’s insignia on his blue uniform. Now he would be forever young and sleep for eternity in the dirt of White Bird Canyon.
Bear drew a sigh of relief when he heard these words. He had seen the way Billy Warton had looked at Willow and Bear feared for her as long as Warton lived. With the young lieutenant dead, that was one less problem for Bear to worry about.
The Nez Perce had lost no men and only a couple had been wounded. In addition, Joseph’s men had captured a couple of treaty Nez Perce interpreters who promptly brought Joseph and Ollokot up to date on every move the soldiers had planned. Besides that, the braves had picked up many weapons and extra ammunition, both from the dead soldiers and those who fled back out of the canyon.
The most troubling thing to Bear was that he had seen the big scout called Tanner with that column. Had Tanner seen Willow? If he had, no doubt there would be a renewed effort to get her back.
Willow hurried to help around the camp. The women were trilling victory songs over the defeat that had been handed the soldiers. Willow was torn by her feelings. Even though she was glad the soldiers had been driven off, there were dead men out in that canyon and widows and orphans would be weeping tonight. Sorrow cared little if the women were white or brown. She knew one thing, though, now the Nez Perce would have to move again and soon, because the soldiers would return; and this time, they would bring more men and maybe cannons.
The others around her were too primitive to understand that, she realized, and so they could celebrate this victory, thinking with the bluecoats fleeing in defeat, that it was ended, rather than just beginning.
She saw Bear come out of the meeting lodge and ran to him. “Is there news?”
He nodded. “The captured treaty Nez Perce tell us the Reverend Harlow was found dead after you fled; the whites think our people murdered him and kidnapped you.”
“What? Why, that’s not true. I’ll tell them—”
“It doesn’t matter; you’ll never be able to get close enough to tell them, and they’d probably think you loco, force you to return to the whites.”
Willow put her face in her hands and tried to think. No doubt the old preacher had had a heart attack or fell and hit his head while he was chasing her through the house. She tried to feel sorry for his death, but he had been a cold, strange man, not a credit to his religion at all. And she had found out that he and his wife had cold-bloodedly stolen her from her mother. Willow remembered again the terror and the pain of the beating the old man had given her. “I have brought more trouble to the Nez Perce.”
“It. doesn’t matter,” Bear said, “they were looking for an excuse to attack us or they wouldn’t have fired when we went out under a flag of truce.”
They both turned to watch their people joyously dancing through the camp at the great victory.
Bear shook his head. “They do not seem to realize the soldiers will be back. We’ll be leaving here soon. Has Raven returned?”
Almost as if in answer, Raven and the others who had chased the soldiers rode into camp on lathered horses, smiling broadly. Willow and Bear went to meet them. Bear looked proud. “See? I told you you had the blood of a warrior. I need you now to help me with something before we pack up this camp and leave.”
Raven slid from his pony. “What is it?”
Bear looked at Willow as if considering, then he motioned Raven to follow him off into the shadows.
Willow stared after them, hurt. What was so important that he could tell Raven but not the woman he loved? Did he still think of her as a white woman? How many times would she have to prove herself? Stunned and offended, she went into her lodge.
Out in the shadows, Bear lowered his voice as he spoke to Raven. “Chief Joseph has given me a great task. I need someone who is true and brave to help me.”
Raven’s chest puffed out. “You know you can count on me. What is it?”
Bear looked around to make sure no one else was list
ening. “We are going to have to be on the move from now on and move fast.”
“Those soldiers won’t be back,” Raven boasted, “not after the defeat our warriors gave them.”
“Oh, but they will,” Bear said firmly, “this is only the beginning, not the end of the trouble, so Joseph has entrusted me with something important. He told me to take one man I can trust to help me.”
Raven looked at him a long moment, his face uncertain. “You are choosing me after all the trouble between us?”
“Yes.”
“Why me? There are other warriors in camp with many honors who would be pleased to be chosen.”
“Because I trust you, have faith in you,” Bear said and looked into his eyes. “Deep in your heart, you have the makings of an honored warrior.”
Raven started to say something, but Bear held up his hand to stop him. “Only the two of us are to know of this. You must give your word to keep this great secret.”
His handsome younger brother looked mystified. “You do not tell Willow?”
Bear shook his head. “Anyone who knows this risks torture should the whites find out. I would not subject the woman we both love to that risk, so I will not tell her.”
Raven turned away uncertainly. “Suppose I let you down? Suppose—?”
“I would trust you with my life,” Bear whispered, “even though we have had our differences.”
Raven’s eyes grew moist and he blinked them away. He had to clear his throat before he spoke. “What is it you would have me do?”
Bear took a deep breath. He was risking a lot to depend on Raven, but Joseph had told him to use his own judgment. “Under no circumstances must you tell this. Only you, me, Joseph, and a few of the ancient ones know now that as we travel, we carry the Nez Perce treasure with us.”
Song Of The Warrior Page 19
