“His death song,” Rivers explained. “It’s an acceptance of dying, letting his Gods know his spirit is on the way.”
Wheatfall nodded. “Them Injuns seem to sense when the end is near. I remember stories the old folks used to tell us young’uns about Africa. They told of people that knowed they was dying even when they seemed all right. But they sure enough died.”
“O’ course in Many Elks if gonna croak for sure,” Rivers said. “I got a good look at that chest wound when I filled his pipe for him. Lord, you coulda stuck your fist in it,”
“And he could still sing?” Pepperdine asked astounded.
“It sorta gives a hint of jest how strong that Injun enemy of ours is, don’t it?” Rivers commented.
~*~
Toward early evening, Pepperdine began noticing a low cloud of dust dancing fitfully over the horizon. It was obvious that both Wheatfall and Rivers had seen it as well. Since the two more experienced men were showing no alarm the young lieutenant decided the phenomenon meant nothing, or at least very little.
But another half hour passed and the dust was growing noticeably larger. In fact, it seemed to be approaching them. Finally, Pepperdine could contain himself no longer. He pointed at the sight in a silent question.
“Buffalo herd,” Rivers said.
“Big ‘un,” Wheatfall added.
“The North American bison,” Pepperdine stated.
“Hell, no!” Rivers argued. “Buffalo. Ain’t you ever heard of ’em back east, Brad?”
“They’re called North American bison in the east,” Pepperdine said.
“Hell of a waste of words,” Rivers remarked.
They continued on to an area of higher ground and halted their horses. The buffalo herd, still far away, appeared as a dark carpet spreading over the prairie. They watched the animals for nearly a quarter of an hour until Pepperdine began to feel impatient. “Shall we press on?”
“Nope,” Rivers replied.
“Why not? Captain Delaney was most explicit about the importance of speed.”
“There ain’t no sense in hurrying now, Lieutenant,” Wheatfall said. “Them buffaloes is too many to get around. By the time we got down to where they are, we’d be held up ’til nightfall anyhow.”
Pepperdine stood in his stirrups and watched the herd’s numerical size seemingly grow as it spread out from the horizon. “My God! So many! I hadn’t realized the herds were that big.”
“Hell, Brad, there used to be more herds that size than you could count,” Rivers said. “But hunters is fast thinning ’em out.”
“Remember when we was talking about the Injuns needing land, Lieutenant?” Wheatfall asked. “The biggest need for that territory is so’s the buffalo can feed on the sweet grass.”
“I trust the need of the Indians for those animals is of great importance to their survival,” Pepperdine remarked.
Rivers laughed. “You have the damndest habit of saying things as muddy as you kin, Brad, but you’re dead right.”
“To tell you the truth, suh,” Wheatfall said, “if I was a general and wanted to whup the Injuns here on the plains, I wouldn’t fight ’em at all. I’d just kill off all them buffalo.”
“You mean that if the buffalo disappeared it would be the end of the Indians?” Pepperdine asked.
“That’s all you have to do,” Rivers agreed. “Instead of having you soljer boys shoot the Indians, the bigwigs oughta have you shooting the buffalo.”
The herd had drawn abreast of them now. The shaggy animals were led by an old cow who took her charges down through a wide draw a hundred yards away from the three spectators.
Rivers drew his rifle. “I may not be a soljer, but I sure as hell ain’t about to have Ambrose Delaney cuss me out when he finds we was this close to a herd and there ain’t gonna be no buffalo steaks for supper tonight.”
Wheatfall grinned. “You’re dead right about that, Jim.” He hesitated and turned to Pepperdine. “I reckon you ain’t been on a buffalo hunt before, suh?”
“No Sergeant.”
“Well, then, you ain’t gonna ever forget the next hour or so for as long as you live.”
Pepperdine, delighted at the prospect, pulled his carbine from its boot.
“Well let’s cut the gabbing and get to shooting!” Rivers said. He let out a wild yell and spurred his horse. Pepperdine followed as the trio galloped down toward the gigantic herd.
Chapter Seven
It was late morning and although the sun had yet to reach its maximum brilliance, stinging sweat was already dripping into Pepperdine’s eyes. Finally, in desperation, he pulled the blue bandana from his cap and wiped his brow.
The buffalo hunt had been two days before. Rivers had picked out only one young bull for the kill. The exuberant troopers wanted to go on a shooting spree, but the scout forbade a slaughter that would result in wasted, rotting carcasses littering the grassland. As it was, they were unable to consume all the single kill, thus much of the meat was left for scavenging animals. Buzzards and coyotes would have no trouble completely devouring the one carcass.
Now, with Wheatfall detailed to supervise the flankers, only the young officer and Jim Rivers were on point. The scout glanced over at Pepperdine, noting the young man’s discomfort. “Hot, ain’t it?”
“I didn’t think it could get any hotter, but it has,” Pepperdine answered, reaching for his canteen. He thought better of it and replaced the stopper.
“Go on ahead and drink,” Rivers said. “There’s plenty of creeks and streams to be found in this area.”
“I want to use water sparingly,” Pepperdine said. “If I don’t, I could get sick. At least that’s what the army says.”
“Well, the army’s full of shit,” Rivers opined. “I ain’t got a lot of scientific know-how, but it only makes sense to me that when a man is sweating hard, he’s losing water. The best thing to do is drink plenty to keep a happy balance. I done it both ways, boy, sparingly and drinking ’til my belly was sloshing. I always felt better when I was good and wet inside on a hot day.”
Pepperdine licked his dry lips. “I can’t argue with an expert.” He got his canteen and took several long, satisfying swallows.
“Got another bit of information for you too,” Rivers said. “It’s gonna rain soon.”
“Rain?” Pepperdine asked. “There’s not a cloud in the sky.”
“Cain’t you smell it?”
Pepperdine sniffed the air. “No. I just smell dusty grass, that’s all.”
“Plain as can be to me.”
“Then it must be going to rain,” Pepperdine said good naturedly. “And I hope it does.”
“When I said it was going to rain, I meant it was going to rain!” Rivers said. “There’s a helluva storm moving this way. Ain’t you seen the lightning on the horizon?”
“I can’t say that I have,” Pepperdine said. Rivers was forever amazing him. “Jim, there’s something I meant to ask you.”
“Shoot.”
“You can see, smell and even feel things out here long before I do,” Pepperdine said. “Are these acute senses of yours something you were born with or developed?”
“They’re developed, Brad,” Rivers answered. “Ever’ man has ’em. I seen fellers come out here from the city and stumble around for months. Then slowly but surely they start taking note of things. They begin to see farther, smell keener and even sense ever’thing from weather to nearby Injuns. You will pretty soon, too. Just wait’n see.”
“I hope so,” Pepperdine said.
“Hey! Did you see that?” Rivers asked.
“What?”
“That white flash over yonder. That was lightning.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t see it.”
“I’ll admit it wasn’t too plain, Brad. Keep your eye on the skyline. I bet within an hour we’ll spot some black thunderclouds building up.”
“You’ll spot them, not me.”
“Just keep your eyes and nose working,” Riv
ers said. “In the meantime, we might as well hole up and wait for Ambrose and the rest of the company. We don’t want nobody separated once that storm hits.”
~*~
Despite the enormous black clouds and the rolling thunder, the storm did not rush down on the column. It reached them with scattered, large rain drops that hit the ground so hard they raised little clouds of dust. Pepperdine followed the troopers’ lead and donned his rubberized poncho.
A growing darkness eased down over the stark prairie until within an hour it seemed as if it was night rather than early afternoon. Startling claps of thunder and blinding flashes of lightning drew closer as the aerial fury now swept over them like the act of an avenging deity. Pepperdine huddled down in the issued slicker wishing he had the broad brimmed headgear the troopers wore.
Quick glances for shelter proved futile. There wasn’t a single terrain feature to protect them from nature’s onslaught. They were as well off plodding on as standing still, so Captain Delaney kept his command moving.
The wind whipped up in gusts, swirling the rain through their ranks with a howling vengeance as if it, like the towering dark clouds, resented their presence in this sweeping wilderness.
Pepperdine had been placed a few yards out on the flanks with instructions to make sure none of the men wandered out of the formation. He performed this task by looking up into the driving wet whenever a flash of lightning lit up the scene for him.
It was during one of these quick glances that the horror began. It was something that had never occurred in even his worst nightmare.
A den of rattlesnakes had been flooded out into the open. The lightning revealed dozens of the serpents under the hooves of Pepperdine’s horse as the rattlers crawled in search of an escape from the sudden cold and wet. Stark terror and revulsion kicked up the young officer’s emotions at the hideous sight.
His horse, as panicked as its rider, began bucking and rearing. Pepperdine hung on as best he could, but the wet saddle was making it extremely difficult to keep his seat. If he slipped and fell into the rattlers, he was sure to sustain numerous bites that would result in a painful, swollen death. The horse whirled, stomping on the snakes and whinnying its fear. As the troopers watched in fascinated horror, Pepperdine began slipping over to one side. He let go of the reins and grasped the horse’s neck as he left the saddle.
Now, under the horse’s head and tightly hugging the animal with arms and legs, Pepperdine closed his eyes trying to tighten his waning grip.
Finally, he fell.
He was on his feet in an instant, kicking out and screaming, his voice whipped away by the storm’s own howling. He expected painful stabs at any moment, but when he opened his eyes he saw that his mount had carried him out of the tangle of reptiles. Nevertheless, he spun around, making sure there were no stragglers from the rattlers’ den.
Wheatfall, leading Pepperdine’s horse, galloped up. “You didn’t get bit, did you Lieutenant?”
Pepperdine took the reins and swung back up in the saddle. He swallowed hard and leaned close to the first sergeant so he could be heard. “No…no, I’m fine. Thank you, Sergeant Wheatfall.”
Delaney and Rivers also joined him, their concern shown by the expressions on their faces. Pepperdine forced himself to grin. “Lots of snakes out here, isn’t there?” he yelled.
Delaney smiled back at his second-in-command, then reached out and patted his shoulder before returning to his place at the head of the column. Jim Rivers laughed out loud and waved, then followed the captain.
As they resumed their march, Pepperdine began shaking badly. He was soaked clear through, since the heavy woolen uniform retained the water it had absorbed. But he wasn’t sure that being cold and wet had anything to do with the shivering. From then on, he would not only keep watch on the column, but take quick glances at the ground, dreading what he might find there.
The storm dissipated as slowly as it had built up, and it finally moved away, leaving an eerie stillness behind. The sky cleared, and the silence magnified the sounds of the horses’ hooves and the men’s muted voices. Pepperdine rode up to the head of the column and joined Delaney.
“Shall I take the point again, sir?”
“You look a little peaked,” Delaney remarked.
“I’m fine, sir,” Pepperdine said. He involuntarily shuddered and then regretted it.
“I think you’ve spent enough time away from the column, Mr. Pepperdine. You ride along with me for a while,” Delaney said. He stood up in the stirrups and looked back at his company searching for Wheatfall. “First Sergeant!”
“Yes, suh!” Wheatfall called back and spurred his horse. He saluted as he rode up.
“Pick a good man to ride point with Rivers,” Delaney said. “Mr. Pepperdine is staying with me for a while. Are the flankers posted?”
“Yes, suh, they’re out. I’ll get Corporal Jones to go with Jim.” He swung his mount and hurried back to tend to his duties.
“Take off that poncho, Mr. Pepperdine,” Delaney ordered. “The sun should dry you out some.”
Pepperdine wordlessly struggled out of the garment.
“Hell of an experience with those snakes,” Delaney said.
“Yes, sir.”
“I’ve never seen anything like that in all my years out here.”
“I hope I never do again,” Pepperdine responded.
“You handled the situation well. My compliments on your conduct in a horrendous situation.”
“I thank the captain.”
“Do you feel all right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Just relax in the saddle, Mr. Pepperdine. We’ll let others strain their eyes for the rest of the day.”
“Captain Delaney, I’m really fine,” Pepperdine said. “I’m capable of—“
“Mr. Pepperdine! You will stay in the column, you will ride relaxed and you will not discuss my orders further…ever!”
Pepperdine gratefully closed his eyes letting his body relax to the horse’s gait. He felt very weary. The fatigue of riding and the experience with the snakes now swept over him, lowering his energy level to a low ebb.
~*~
Jim Rivers suddenly appeared over a rise on the terrain. He was riding fast toward them. Pepperdine, rubbing eyes, was instantly alert.
Rivers joined them within moments. “Running Horse raided a little farm,” he said gesturing in the direction. “Jones is there now waiting for us.”
“Any survivors?” Delaney asked.
Rivers shook his head as an answer, then whipped his horse around to return to the scene of the attack.
“Forward, at a gallop, yo-oh!” Delaney ordered. The company lurched forward, picking up speed as it followed after the scout.
There was a sod cabin easily visible from a distance. Pepperdine noticed a pale lump as they approached the scene. When they drew closer he nearly retched. It was the remains of a mutilated white man. It took all of Pepperdine’s will to fight the nausea, but somehow he succeeded.
The victim had been literally hacked into pieces. Dozens of arrows stuck from his headless, armless and legless torso. Pepperdine couldn’t help but continue to stare down at the remains as they rode past.
The corral had been knocked down and burned. Only the storm had prevented a tremendous grassfire. Jones saluted as the two officers dismounted.
“They’re two more over there,” he said. “A woman and a young feller.” He led them to the other bodies. Both were stripped. The young male had suffered the same fate as the first cadaver. He was mutilated with long gashes all over parts of his body. Many arrows had also been shot into him.
Rivers came out of the soddie and took note of Pepperdine’s anguished expression. He walked up to the young officer. “It’s part of the Injuns’ religion, Brad,” he explained. “They believe that by mutilating their dead enemies, they cripple them in the afterlife as well.”
The woman showed only a massive head wound. She was the first naked female that
Pepperdine had ever seen.
“They bashed in her skull when they finished with her,” Rivers said. He looked around for Delaney. “Hey, Ambrose, come here.”
Delaney had been inspecting the vicinity as Wheatfall organized a burial party. “What’s up, Jim?”
“I think there’s somebody missing. A girl mayhaps.”
“What makes you think so?”
“There’re three beds in the soddie—leastways what’s left of ’em—and two differ’nt sizes of female clothes. I seen some letters and stuff scattered around too. Seems the family’s name’s Starling. Two women is mentioned too; one is a Beulah and the other is Martha Ann. But I cain’t tell which is the older woman and which is the gal that’s missing.”
“Get Wheatfall to give you a couple of men and take a look around,” Delaney said. “They may have left her out there somewhere.” He turned back to his junior officer. “Welcome to the prairie campaign, Mr. Pepperdine.”
“Why’d they do it, sir? There’s nothing here. Surely no good horses and maybe an old muzzle-loader rifle or two,” Pepperdine said. “It seems so pointless.”
“They feel all whites are intruders on their land. It doesn’t matter if they’re rich or poor. Also, it was a way of Running Horse letting his warriors blow off steam.”
“Poor people.”
“Don’t worry about this. It’ll give you a tale to thrill your friends back east when you finally get transferred to that staff assignment that’s waiting for you.”
“Captain Delaney, I—“
“Hold it! Here comes Rivers.” He waited for their scout. “What did you find, Jim?”
“Plenty of sign, Ambrose,” Rivers said. “There’s no doubt they took a young white woman with ’em—poor soul—and something else. Another war party’s joined up with ’em.”
“That makes me wonder,” Delaney mused. “They didn’t bother to retrieve the arrows from these bodies and there’s now more hostiles than before. I think the other group must’ve been from the Fort Sill Agency.”
“I’d say they ain’t worried about supplies and that this get-together of theirs was planned,” Delaney surmised.
Glory's Guidons (The Long-Knives US Cavalry Western Book 3) Page 6
