by John Foxjohn
With the sun coming up, he swayed with the horse’s movement. Twice he stopped and checked on the man, but his condition hadn’t changed and that worried Andy. He’d been unconscious for a long time.
A whiff of wood smoke drifted to Andy as the horse topped a hill, but he caught more than that, the familiar smell of the Indian encampment—one that was unique to anything else. The whites turned their nose up at it, but it meant home to Andy. Really the only home he remembered.
As Big Red strode into the camp, people materialized from tepees to see what was going on. The people’s stares bored through him. The usual welcomes and smiles of acknowledgement were missing. He’d expected they wouldn’t like him bringing the white man into camp, but their stance seemed almost hostile toward him and he didn’t understand that. He was one of them. He shrugged inwardly. Or was he?
Worm waited for him in front of his tepee, a frown on his weathered face. But his words lifted Andy’s spirit, somewhat. “Get down, my son. Welcome home.”
Andy swung his right leg up and over and hopped down without using his stirrups. When he was on the ground and facing Worm, he said, “Thank you, Ate.” He indicated the man on the pole drag. “He is injured. I do not know how to treat him.”
Three Bears, a warrior who’d grown up with Andy, pushed his way through the crowd. The animosity on his face was evident. “Why did you bring a white man into our camp?”
His demand seemed to echo the feelings of the group. Before Andy could say anything, Scar Face, a warrior older than Andy, said, “Wrong Hand, you need to decide. Are you of the People or white?”
A murmur of agreement swept through the crowd, but Worm jerked his hand up. “Wrong Hand is my son. That’s who he is, and he is always welcome in my lodge and this camp.”
The medicine man’s sharp words dispersed the crowd, but not the mumblings as they left. Andy frowned. “Ate, I knew they would not like me bringing him here, but I did not expect so much anger.”
“Help me get him in the tepee,” Worm said.
Bending beside the travois, Andy untied the ropes he placed around the man to help hold him on. When he had him untied, he lifted him and carried him inside, laying him on some buffalo robes. He scooted away to let Worm get close.
As the old man examined the white man’s head, he said, “Things are not good here. The whites don’t allow us to hunt, but then they cut our rations in half. The children are hungry, the women are unhappy, and the men are angry. I fear there is going to be trouble.”
Andy squatted on his haunches as Worm looked at the man. He didn’t know what to say. He’d had his troubles too with the white man. He was having problems adjusting back to a world he hadn’t known to begin with. He understood the language but not always the meanings of words.
He found himself speaking differently depending on who was talking to. His words flowed in the Lakota language, but not so in English. He’d spent a lot of time just listening to the whites speak and he would practice in his mind.
When he was with Abbey he could ask her the meaning of words and she would tell him. He’d tried that with others and they treated him like he was stupid.
“Ate, do you remember the place to the north where we camped one summer? Where Curly found the big bones?”
Worm turned from the man. “You mean the place where the hot water comes from the earth? Yes, I remember.”
“We found some yellow rocks in the creek. He Dog made a necklace of them.”
“Yes, they were pretty rocks. Why?”
Andy thought for a moment how to explain. He had to sort it out in his mind then translate it to Lakota. “The white man likes those yellow rocks. They…value them. White men find them and trade them in for things they want.”
Worm’s eyes widened. “Really? They are pretty but not good for anything. Too soft and fall apart.”
“They like them. I need to go there and get some or try to.”
Worm frowned. “It’s almost due north from here. Five or six days travel.” He wagged his finger. “A half day ride southeast of the hot water is a river, Falls River. The water empties over a mound of rocks. We stopped there once. Just below that is a sand bar. You might want to look there.”
Turning to face Andy, Worm said, “You be careful. Those thieving, murdering Crows are about. They will know who you are. These reservations the whites have put us on are lines on the white man’s paper, but the young men of our enemy cannot see those lines.”
Worm reached out and clasped Andy’s shoulder. “Son, don’t forget White Bird and the Nez Perce. They escaped the soldiers and that line on the paper means nothing to them, either.”
“Thanks Ate.” Andy indicated the man. “What about him?”
Before Worm could say anything, the man lying on the robes groaned and opened his eyes. He stared for a long moment like his vision was trying to come into focus. Andy eased beside him.
“Where am I,” he croaked out.
“You are safe,” Andy said.
The man tried to sit up, but fell back. He caught his head in both hands. “My head feels like it’s about to bust open.”
“Four men beat you with …axe handles,” Andy said.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Andy Johansson. I was riding by and…stopped them. Who are you? Why they beat you?”
He groaned, tried to sit up, but again gave up. He closed his eyes a moment, and Andy turned to see Worm scraping the inner bark of willow into hot water. He had done it right, then.
“I’m Capland Walters, but my friends call me Cap. If you stopped the four of them from beating me, podnar, you might as well call me Cap.”
He glanced at Andy, and then did a double take. “You a big un, huh. You look like one of those big bulls I saw in Kansas not long ago. Angus they called them.”
Andy reached his hand out to shake as he’d seen the men do in Heath. When he grasped Cap’s hand, they shook, but Cap held on. “Help me up.”
“You sure? You have been…out a while.”
“My head’s about to explode and spinning but it can feel that way with me sitting up as well as it can lying down.”
Still holding his hand, he eased him up. When Cap groaned, he stopped halfway up. Sweat popped out on the man’s brow. Cap, in obvious pain, clamped his mouth and eyes shut. Instead of pulling him the rest of the way up, Andy eased him down.
Cap lay that way for several moments before he opened his eyes, focused, and then refocused. “Guess I ain’t as ready as I thought,” he said. His head turned, taking in the tepee and then Worm. At last he glanced back at Andy. “Bull, where are we?”
“Bull? My name is Andy. We are in a tepee on the…reservation close to Fort.”
“Naw, with all that black hair and your size, you are a Bull, not an Andy. Mind me asking how we got to be on a Sioux reservation. Last time I checked, these Indians weren’t all that fond of our kind.”
“They are not fond of…your kind,” Andy said. “They like me okay. You never told me why men were beating you.”
“Cause I don’t know. I’ve punched cows most of my life, and thought about starting a place of my own—”As he talked, worry lines formed on his forehead and he reached for his waist, and then sighed. “I don’t suppose when you rescued me, you found a money belt and protected it, too.”
Shrugging, Andy said, “You had nothing.”
“Figures. I had five thousand dollars. Every cent I’ve saved my whole life. Wanted to get me some land and buy cattle. I met a man in Heath who said he had cattle to sell. I went with a couple of his men to look them over and the next thing I know I wake up here. Evidently with no money.”
It was Andy’s turn to frown. “How much does land…cost?’
Cap looked at Andy a little strangely. “Why do you talk the way you do?
When Andy shrugged, he looked at him for a long moment, and then said, “The land don’t cost nothing. The government allows people to homestead it. What you do is you live
on the land for five years and make improvements. At the end of five years the land is deeded over to you.”
“That is it,” Andy said. “Money is made…raising cows on the…free land?”
Looking at Andy with his head cocked, Cap said, “Yes, but how is it you’ve never heard of the homestead law? Or ranches? Or raising cattle?”
Andy didn’t know how to answer him. How does someone tell a stranger that although he was white, he was raised an Indian? Andy liked this man. There was something about him, but when he told people his story, their attitudes changed about him. They lost their friendliness. He didn’t know why, but they did. He shrugged. “I do not know it,” he said at last. “Can someone really make money raising these cows?”
Still with a bewildered expression, Cap said, “Yeah. Make good money if they know about cattle. How to take care of them, get them to market. A man needs four things to make a good cattle spread: grass, water, land that offers shelter from the winter, and most important, courage to hold and defend what is yours.
“I came here because the land offers the first three. There’s plenty of water and grass and few people. I thought I would get here first. The others will come, I can assure you.”
“If good why are others not here?” Andy asked.
“The injuns. We just whooped them, and they are still trying to make up their minds if they want to stay whooped. I’d hoped to meet with them and make peace so they wouldn’t bother me.”
Andy wanted Abbey but she was out of his reach whether he had money or not. He didn’t know what her problem with him was. She didn’t act like the others toward him. He didn’t think it was because he didn’t have any money, but he didn’t know.
He had no future the way things were going with the whites or the Lakota. Even if Abbey wanted him, he had no way of supporting her or a family. He couldn’t take her to his shack in Heath even if she would want to.
But this cow stuff sounded like something that might be a future for him. Cap knew about these cows and how to get the free land. Andy knew where those yellow rocks were. Besides, no one knew this country better than he did. He thought he might know the perfect place to raise the cows—a place with plenty of water and grass. The only problem with the area was that to live there, they’d have to get along with the Indians, and that was one thing Andy knew how to do.
Chapter Seven
Lloyd Stephens, his ego stinging from the butt chewing he’d received from his partner and boss, sat behind his desk when someone tapped on his outer door. Before he could answer, the door opened and Joshua Perkins entered. The sight of the man turned Stephens’ stomach. Thin as a rail, Perkins wore loose fitting clothes that he last washed when a cloudburst caught him outside. He had filthy blond hair and a scraggly beard stained with tobacco. The teeth he had left was black with decay. Besides that a stink cloud seemed to hover around the man.
Stephens leaned back, arms crossed. He hired Perkins because the man did Lloyd’s dirty work. He didn’t have to associate with him. “Have you found him?” Lloyd asked.
“Not yet. Really have no idea where he went to. We’ve looked everywhere.”
“Everywhere? Did you look at Johansson’s place?”
Perkins frowned. “No, why would we look there? They don’t know each other.”
“You said you’d looked everywhere. The first place I asked you about and you haven’t looked there.”
“Boss, I didn’t think he’d be there.”
Lloyd leaned forward. “You ain’t paid to think. I told you to find him and finish him off. Also take care of whoever that was who helped him. If you were capable of thinking, you would realize the description we got of the man who helped Walters. He was dark and huge. They said he seemed like a giant. Who does that sounds like?”
“Sounds like Johansson.”
“Yes, but you never even looked at the shack he lives in.” He pointed at the door. “Get your butt out there and find him. Don’t come back here without both of them dead.”
He shook his head when Perkins stormed out. He needed to find someone who could do the dirty work, but also think. Maybe wasn’t so filthy, either. Lloyd didn’t believe anyone knew about Perkins and his business association, but if the man kept coming up the back stairs people were bound to take notice.
Standing, he looked out the window, hands stuffed in his pockets. Not only that, somehow, he had to get Abbey to see the light. He didn’t regret talking to Johansson one bit. Where he’d made his mistake was talking about it where Abbey could overhear him. But he never thought she’d react the way she did because of it. He’d expected her to thank him. What had surprised him even more was the mother’s reaction. He thought he had her wrapped around his little finger like her father.
As he looked out the window, Abbey strode by on the opposite side of the street, obviously heading for the hardware store. If he was Martin, he’d never let her work like she did. Once they were married, he wouldn’t allow it.
A little leather on her back would bring her around to acting the way she should. He smiled. Once they were married, he would see to that little chore. Once when he was young, his mother had said something disrespectful to his father in public. His father had brought her home, stripped her naked, and brought in one of the hired men to whip her with a belt. That’s exactly what he would do.
Straightening his clothes, he checked himself in the mirror and smiled. When he sauntered out of his office, he told his clerk he’d be gone a little bit. As he strolled down the sidewalk of the one street in the town, he greeted people with a forced smile but wouldn’t let them delay him.
Stephens crossed the dusty street in front of the dry goods store owned by Abbey’s father. A frown crinkled his brow. The store was another reason he had to marry the girl. With them married, when something happened to Martin, he’d be in position to take over. The business was doing well and there was no reason he shouldn’t own it, too.
He stopped in the doorway as he always did. The scent of leather, pipe tobacco, gunpowder, and cleaning solvent always invigorated him, and in ways he couldn’t explain, reminded him of his childhood.
On this day the aroma of the store quickly vanished from his mind as Abbey came into view. The lithe young woman stirred places in him that no one had ever reached. Beautiful without a doubt, but more than just that, she exuded sexiness along with a classy look that few if any could pull off. But what made her stand out from the all others was it was totally natural with her. She didn’t need to work to achieve the desired effect—it walked side-by-side with her.
When she looked up and spotted him, her eyes flashed fire all the way across the store, reminding him of the spirit lying underneath that beautiful face. Despite the anger she showed, he displayed his patented smile—one that took the kinks out of women’s bloomers.
He strode across the floor, ready to forgive her silliness.
“What do you want Lloyd?” The coldness of her words stopped him in his tracks.
“I came to see you, if you’d changed your mind.”
“Changed my mind about what? Letting you dictate who can come see me and who can’t? Well, no I haven’t and won’t change my mind about that.”
“Abbey, I was referring to you marrying me. We can go ahead and set the date and get everything in order. I thought we could go to Denver on our honeymoon.”
With one hand on her hip, she cocked her head. “Lloyd, I didn’t change my mind about that either. Nor will I. You’ll have to find someone else to go to Denver with you.”
Heat crept up his neck to his face as she turned and stormed away. The fool had no idea what she was saying, but he would have the last word on it if it was the last thing he ever did.
The sun was high overhead when Abbey stormed out the back door of the dry goods store, so mad she was shaking. Because wagons unloaded supplies in this area, it had long since lost most of the grass. What remained smelled like hay.
Her heels sank into three inches of san
d when she climbed down the steps. She struggled a few moments before she was able to get out of it.
She had no idea where she was going. She just wanted to get away from a man she’d come to realize she didn’t like, and definitely didn’t trust. And that was before she saw the look in Lloyd’s eyes inside the store. She’d once heard an old mountain man talk about looking right into the eyes of a cougar. She had nothing to reference that image to, until she’d looked into Lloyd’s eyes inside the store.
A shudder of fear slashed through her and her skin crawled.
Abbey edged along the side of the building toward the front with no idea where she wanted to go. She had to get out of there. Had to find to Andy, but after the way she’d treated him, he wouldn’t want anything to do with her.
Why had she said those things to Andy? Why in this world would she defend Lloyd Stephens? It had pleased her when she thought Andy was jealous. But then he came out with that comment about a ring on her finger like he wasn’t. She shouldn’t feel that way, but she’d wanted him to be at least a little jealous.
At the front edge of the building, she spotted Mrs. Dunhill. The older woman was one of her harshest critics. She was always pointing out that Abbey wasn’t married—especially not to Lloyd. She wasn’t in the mood to run into her right then, listen to another sermon. Lately, she’d had a tendency to say what was on her mind, and it always turned out to be the wrong thing. She turned and headed to the back, a place where decent women were not supposed to be. There was nothing back there, but at least she wouldn’t run into anyone. She didn’t think she could stand being around people.
Without plan or destination, she trudged west behind the buildings on that side of the one-street town. She was almost to the back of Lloyd’s store when she realized where she was and stopped abruptly.
She sure didn’t want to run into him and she needed to get out of there, but she didn’t. Instead, she craned her neck to the side, studying the building. This was the first time she’d been in the alley and hadn’t realized stairs led from the alley to an upstairs door. More than that, she didn’t think anyone, or very few people in Health realized it—she would have heard. The town people stayed out of the alley. Rumors about Lloyd Stephens continuously passed through the small town.
