The composition of Chief Joseph’s hostiles had changed considerably in less than a month. At the first encounter at White Bird Canyon, he probably had not had seventy warriors. However, with Looking Glass joining up and the wavering Huishuis Kute and others coming in because of the warriors’ victories, there were now at least three hundred, maybe more warriors riding with him. Some of the treaty Indians were so taken with the joyous defiance and victories of the hostiles that they, too, turned against the whites and came over to join up with Joseph’s nontreaty clan.
The weather had been rainy and cold for some days now, but it cleared and became very hot as General Howard readied his forces. He possibly had almost six hundred, what with scouts and civilian volunteers as he marched to the Clearwater River planning to engage the Indians on a Wednesday morning, July 11.
It was hot, Willow thought as she prepared food, even though it was still morning. The scouts hadn’t seen anything of General Howard’s soldiers so it was thought that maybe he was still waiting out there to be reinforced before he came on. Besides, the Indians grinned knowingly, dragging those big cannons slowed the troops down to the point that no one worried too much about being taken by surprise; all thought they would have many hours’ notice when the cavalry moved close enough to be a threat.
Willow wiped her face and smiled at Raven and Bear as they finished the smoked salmon and camas bulbs she had roasted for them.
“It is hot,” Bear agreed with a smile, “but soon, we will be in the high country, crossing the Lolo Trail that we have used for many generations to go to the buffalo hunts in that place you call Montana.”
“It’s very steep and dangerous, isn’t it?” Willow remembered aloud what she had heard about it. “The air will be thin and it is almost a hundred miles through it.”
Raven nodded. “But it will be cool in the mountains. Once we reach that, I do not think soldiers will follow us. They couldn’t get those cannon across the narrow trail anyway.”
“The Nez Perce venture along cliffs even a mountain goat wouldn’t chance,” Bear said. “I cannot imagine the army following us up there.”
Willow breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe they were right; maybe once Chief Joseph’s forces made it across that narrow twisting trail, the army wouldn’t follow. Perhaps things were going to work out after all.
“You have looked sad all morning; what is it?” Bear asked.
“Not much; I weary of the constant moving, that’s all.” This was not the time to tell him that her monthly menses had just come and gone; there was no child. Later, Willow thought, once they were safely away from the troops so that the warrior’s taboo was lifted, they would make passionate love again and she would give her man a son. The fact that she was not yet pregnant was no big thing, she thought, it was just that they had both been so eager for a child.
Raven stood up. “It is my turn to stand watch; just in case the soldiers do show up.”
“Oh, you’ll miss the lesson,” Willow said, reaching to pick up her precious book. “I was going to work with the children this afternoon.”
“Don’t read any more of that story until I can be there,” Raven said. “I don’t want to miss the ending.”
Willow laughed. “At the rate you are learning, you will soon be able to read the ending for yourself, over and over.”
“Enough, you two,” Bear said good-naturedly. “Can a man not enjoy his rest without his woman and his brother teasing each other?”
Raven punched Bear’s shoulder. “Rest? It’s quiet now; wait until she presents you a wailing son to disturb your peace.”
“That,” Bear said, giving Willow a gentle, loving glance, “that sound I could listen to all day and it would be music to my ears. I will go with you, little brother; maybe while we sit guarding the horse herd near the river, we can catch a few fish for tomorrow.”
“Wonderful!” Willow nodded. “Otherwise, we’ll be eating dried jerky or more smoked salmon tomorrow.”
Willow watched them mount up and ride out toward the river, regretting that she was not yet expecting Bear’s child. It was important to carry on the family bloodlines and if a warrior fell in battle, he wanted to leave a son to be remembered by.
A shadow seemed to pass over Willow’s soul, despite the fact that the July morning was very hot and dazzlingly bright. She shivered and shrugged it off. Things were going very well for the Nez Perce; they had been victorious at every clash with the whites so far. Certainly after they managed to get across the Lolo Trail, the army might give up the chase. Why would a government that had endured heavy debts from the Civil War want to spent untold thousands of dollars in expenses, not to mention the loss of life, to corral a handful of Indians once they were no longer a threat to the settlers in the area?
It was about one o’clock in the afternoon that Captain Trimble’s advance party spotted some Indian herders driving cattle and horses down the bluffs to drink at the river. He rode back to alert General Howard. Quickly, the officer brought his three pieces of artillery to the front and began lobbing charges toward the Indian camp.
Bear saw the bluecoats first, their brass buttons reflecting the sun. He gave a shout of alarm, “Alert the camp! Move those cattle!”
Herders raced to chase the grazing livestock behind the Indians’ lines even as the cannons roared in the hot afternoon stillness, surprising the Nez Perce. Raven’s horse reared, but he managed to stay aboard.
Another shell hit near them, throwing dirt and rock in the air, shattering the silence.
“Take cover! Get back to the camp!” Bear shouted, but he could hardly be heard over the din of noise and the lowing of the running cattle.
“Not this time!” Raven shouted back. “I’m through leaving the fight to my big brother. It is kiuala piyakasiusa, time to fight and I’m staying to fight beside you!”
The two of them urged their rearing horses and galloped to join Too-hool-hool-zote, the old Indian leader Howard had once imprisoned in the treaty dispute. The elderly brave was leading a little group to the top of the bluff. Protected by the woods and the crests of the slopes there, a small force might stall the army’s advance.
They were badly outnumbered, Bear knew as he and Raven charged into the fray. There was probably no more than twenty warriors with Too-hool-hool-zote, and there were hundreds of soldiers. However, at the top of the bluff and protected as they were by the ravines, a handful of men could hold off an attack ... for a while.
He and Raven were off their mounts and diving for cover behind the rocks. In the distant camp, they could hear the shouts and the screams as the people realized they’d been taken by surprise.
“Soldiers!” he heard a man shout. “Soldiers are coming! ”
But not yet, Bear thought, not as long as he had ammunition for his rifle. He glanced up and down the line. All around him, warriors were loading their rifles, reaching for arrows, preparing to die here to halt the advance long enough for their people to regroup and escape. What really mattered, Bear thought grimly as he reloaded, was that the people should escape and his woman should live a very long time, that his son she might be carrying in her womb survive to breathe free air.
Old Too-hool-hool-zote shouted for a messenger. “Some one with a fast horse not afraid to show himself in the soldiers’ gunfire!”
“Raven!” Bear yelled. “My brother is the best rider of them all! He’ll go!”
“No!” Raven screamed defiantly as he aimed and fired. “My place is with the warriors, holding back the enemy!”
“Go!” the old chieftain ordered. “Ride back to the village, alert Joseph what is happening, how many soldiers there are! We might be able to hold them long enough for the people to clear the camp!”
It was an important, brave task, Bear knew. “Raven, do it!” he urged. “You ride faster, better than anyone, we’ve got to let Joseph and Ollokot know what’s happening!”
“All right, but I’ll be back!” Raven swung up on his nervous horse.”
“Tell Willow—”
A shot rang out from the other side and Bear could not stop himself from crying out as he clutched his body.
“You’re hit!” Raven started to dismount, but Bear waved him off. His body felt on fire, but he must not let his brother know how bad the wound might be.
“Go on, saving the village, that is important! I’ll be coming later! Go on!” He waved Raven away and the boy hesitated a moment.
“Go on!” Bear ordered.
“I’ll be back!” Raven galloped away through the deadly barrage of rifle fire as the soldiers tried to pick him off, keep the messenger from getting through.
At least his brother would live, Bear thought as he took his hand away and looked at the warm blood smeared there. No doubt these twenty men at the top of the bluff were going to be overrun and killed. The artillery boomed again and the dirt flew, scattering a spray of dust across his sweating face. Maybe Raven could get Willow out of the village. The survival of his people, and most of all, his woman, was what mattered to Bear.
He would sell his life dearly, he thought in a haze as he aimed and fired again, taking a soldier from his saddle. He and the others would die here, but they would not die in vain. A warrior’s death was all a brave man could ask for. Along the bluff now, he heard the faint, beginning strains of warrior’s songs as they prepared to die with honor. Honor; it was so very important.
Bear looked down where the bullet had entered. His flesh felt as if it were on fire and the hot blood ran to mix with the dust and sweat. It didn’t matter anymore; all that mattered was protecting the retreat. It was his duty as a warrior. His only regret was that he would never see the son Willow had promised him.
His vision seemed to be fading. He must not lose consciousness yet, there was still so much to do. As long as he had the strength to pull a trigger, he might help hold those soldiers at bay. If only the people could make it to the narrow Lolo Trail, they might escape. The general couldn’t follow with his clumsy wagons and cannons.
Bear aimed and fired. Some of the warriors had moved to meet the oncoming troops; others were dead and wounded around him. Only he and two others held the strategic bluff. He must stay conscious and keep firing. In his pain, he concentrated on the memory of Willow’s dear face, wishing he could taste her soft lips one more time. All he could do for her and the others might be hold this bluff at the cost of his life; give the people precious minutes more. He was going to die here on the Clearwater River along with these other warriors, but he had saved Raven, looked after him just as he had promised his mother on her deathbed. Surely Raven would look after Willow because he loved her, too. Bear hoped they would be happy together.
Willow; Willow, my love; live, my dear one; live at the cost of my life, which I gladly give up now. . . . Grimly, Bear gritted his teeth against the pain and reloaded his rifle with his last cartridge. Was that the sound of horses’hooves running through the dry grass or was it the hattia tinukin coming for him? Very faintly, he began to sing his warrior’s song.
Seventeen
Raven galloped back to warn the people. “Soldiers coming!” he shouted to Joseph. “Too-hool-hool-zote and about twenty more try to hold the bluff!”
In the background, gunfire echoed. The camp was in a state of confusion, people running, babies screaming, dogs barking. Horses, panicked by the noise, raced through the camp, toppling lodges and trampling needed supplies.
Willow. Bear would want to make sure Willow was all right. She was already attempting to bridle a horse, hook up the travois.
“Do not stop for those things!” Raven yelled. “Go now, grab some food and ammunition, clear out before the soldiers come!”
Her face was pale, but she looked grimly determined as she threw a bundle of smoked jerky on her travois along with her precious book. “Bear! Where’s Bear?”
Raven gestured behind him. “Holding the soldiers back! Now I must return there, too!”
Even as Raven wheeled his horse to return to the fray, Joseph shouted to him. “Help calm the people! Koiimize! Organize and lead them out!”
“I am needed at the battle!” Raven argued over the thunder of cannon fire and the screams of women and terrified horses.
“You are needed here,” Joseph ordered, “it does no good to warn the people if no one leads them!”
The hot wind seemed to carry the acrid scent of burning powder and warm blood. Raven took a deep breath of it as he fought to control his nervous horse. “I will help,” he said, “then I return to the fight!”
Cub stood in the middle of the camp circle, crying with horses stampeding all around him. Raven cursed the baby’s drunken mother, wondering where she was at this moment as he grabbed him out of harm’s way, put him in Willow’s travois. “Help me get our people out!” he shouted.
Willow nodded, her face pale, but brave. Raven galloped on, his mind on the battle behind him. Here he was playing nurse to feeble old women and crying babies while the warriors reaped battle honors. No one would ever sing Raven’s praises for that. Ahead of him, he saw the old woman, looking about, attempting to catch a horse. “Grandmother, here, let me catch you a mount! Can you ride this wild steed?” He roped a rearing, neighing Appaloosa.
“Huh! I was riding more spirited ponies than this when you were but a smile in your mother’s eye,” Grandmother said contemptuously as she swung up on the horse and reached to lift plump little Atsi behind her.
Bear. He must get more ammunition and return to help him hold the perimeter of the camp until the people escaped. No one would ever say again that Raven had run away from danger as he had the day of the grizzly attack. In the noise, smoke, and confusion, people seemed to be milling about; not certain which way led to safety and unsure whether they were surrounded by enemies.
“This way!” Raven shouted over the shrieks and gunfire. They must not ride into an ambush of soldiers. A woman was down and dying, perhaps hit by a stray bullet. Raven dismounted to see about her, yelled frantically for a travois, but by the time he found one, she was dead. Lodges, blankets, and food were all being left behind as people fled from the camp. These were things the people were going to need. Raven grabbed up a small bundle of dried fish, a blanket or two, and all the weapons he saw. Thus heavily burdened, he hurried to add these things to Willow’s travois, knowing full well that they would be needed to survive.
The smoke from the shells swirled around them, making the camp hazy and adding to the confusion. Some of the people seemed to have lost their way, milling about in panic.
Raven shouted to Willow, “Lead the people and follow me! I’ll get them started before I go back!”
He saw Joseph and Ollokot hurrying their wives and children, everyone knowing that if the soldiers broke through and captured the camp, there would be widespread carnage.
Old Too-hool-hool-zote galloped into camp to report. “Many are dead behind me, but they are holding the soldiers back! We must save the children.”
Bear. Was his beloved brother still alive? How Raven wanted to race to help him, but a small boy, wearing a blood-soaked buckskin shirt, collapsed at his feet. Raven swung the boy up in his arms and handed him up to the old grandmother. “This way!” he yelled and waved his arms wildly. “Follow me! This way to safety!”
He looked to see if Willow was in the group that now gathered and followed. Yes, there she was. She was Nez Perce all right; a wife Bear could be proud of. Coolly, she was riding her horse out with the travois hooked on behind. She had little Cub in her travois, her precious book, a heap of supplies. Others were fleeing with no thought of anything but escaping the deadly gunfire.
“Joseph,” Raven yelled, “I will lead these people away; then I’m going back to help the warriors—”
“No!” Joseph ordered, his face grim. “We cannot afford to sacrifice any more men. Live to fight another day; we need you here!”
Were they already all dead back on that bluff? The cannon boomed again as if to answer. Cou
ld anyone survive that deadly rifle fire? Even as Raven hesitated, Looking Glass shouted, “Move the people out! The warriors who hold the line are dying back there so our people can escape!”
“My brother,” Raven explained, “I must go back, I—”
“No!” a warrior yelled over the booming cannon that tore up the ground around them with each hit, dirt flying, horses rearing in terror. “I saw Bear as I retreated. He was covered with blood but still loading and firing.”
“Tananisa!” Raven cursed. “Are you certain?” He looked to see if Willow had heard. If she had, he wouldn’t be able to keep her from riding to that bluff, even though it would be committing suicide. Bear wouldn’t want that. “Are you certain?” he demanded again, struggling to stay aboard his own dancing stallion.
The man nodded. “He was bloody and singing his warrior’s song. If you return, you die for nothing. Do not let Bear have died in vain; save the people he fought to protect!”
Raven wanted to scream in his mental anguish. Bear dead? Now he had lost all his blood relatives. Once again, his older brother had sacrificed himself while Raven had fled. The cannon boomed again.
“Amitiz!” Joseph gestured, ordering them to go. “Move the children!”
Almost in a daze, Raven led out so the people would follow. Wounded people clung to horses or rode a travois. They were clearing the camp in haste, but at what cost? Precious food and blankets were being left behind and sleeping out in the cool air would cost some of the wounded their lives. And what of women big with child or like Joseph’s wife with a new baby?
Song Of The Warrior Page 22
