Stone Hand

by Charles G. West

  He sat there for a long while before deciding the incident was a closed one. Weak from the pain of his wound, his body suddenly weary, he struggled to his feet and retraced his steps back out into the bright sunlight. Tired as he was, he seemed to appreciate the warmth of the sun in a new way. It felt good on his back. He looked up at the sky and noticed for the first time that day how blue it was. “It’s a whole lot better world with that son of a bitch at the bottom of that hole,” he said.

  Long Foot was waiting beside the crevice at the base of the mountain. He had positioned himself with his back against a huge boulder, facing the start of the hidden trail, his rifle lying ready across his lap. When he heard the sound of approaching hoofs, he slowly raised his rifle and aimed at the opening behind the gnarled old tree. Great was his relief when he recognized Birdie’s white face. Still he kept the rifle trained on the figure on Birdie’s back until he was clear of the branches of the tree and he could see that it was Jason. The relief was apparent in his face. “Damn,” he muttered.

  Jason could not help but be amused by the somber Indian’s expression. “What’s the matter with you? You look like you didn’t expect me to come back.”

  Long Foot got to his feet. “Maybe, maybe not, damn right.” He climbed on his horse and rode to meet Jason. “I hear gunshots. Stone Hand get away?” Then he noticed Jason’s arm hanging limply at his side and the blood streaking his buckskin shirt. “Damn. You shot!”

  “Me shot all right,” Jason returned, mocking the scout’s broken English, “and I need to get it bandaged up pretty quick.”

  “I find water on other side of mountain. Follow me and I fix up wound, damn right.”

  Long Foot did a first-rate job of cleaning out his wound and applying a bandage made from a sleeve of Jason’s one clean shirt. While he was being doctored by the scout, Jason recounted the events that had taken place in the narrow walls of the trail up the mountain. Long Foot was visibly upset that Jason had not brought Stone Hand’s body back, or even a scalp, as evidence of the renegade’s death. He was relieved somewhat when Jason assured him that he had damn near cut him in two with two rifle slugs in his midsection before the Indian had plunged to his death. But he was not relieved to the point where he could rid his mind of the notion that Stone Hand might possibly be a spirit. Jason, exasperated with the scout, told him that he could crawl down that deep shaft in the floor of the cave and get Stone Hand’s scalp if he wanted to take the chance on not being able to get back out.

  “Not me. Damn right!”

  Long Foot sat back on his heels and evaluated the work he had done on Jason’s shoulder. He seemed satisfied it would do until they got back to Camp Supply. There, he suggested, it might be wise to let his sister-in-law take a look at it. She had the gift of healing.

  “I’ll be all right,” Jason said. “You done a good enough job on it.”

  The ride back to Supply was long and uncomfortable for Jason. His arm hurt and the longer he rode, the more inflamed the wound became. By the time the tents of the army camp came into view, Jason was feverish and slumping in the saddle. Long Foot had been watching him closely for the past several hours, even suggesting once that it might be wise to stop and rest. Jason insisted on continuing. He felt it important to let the colonel, and certainly Sarah, know that there was no longer any threat from Stone Hand.

  Sick with fever, Jason was irritated by the feeling of growing helplessness that caused his brain to spin and he strained just to remain upright in the saddle. A few more miles, if he could just hold on, and he could rest. Long Foot was going to have to get the bullet out of his shoulder. That was a fact, for it had surely festered. The willows—he remembered seeing the willows by the stream that ran along the outside perimeter of the camp, the willows where Sarah and John Welch had picnicked—and then everything went black.

  When he opened his eyes, he at first wondered if he was dead. The face looking down at him was surely that of an angel. Her dark eyes peered deep into his, searching, and when he blinked to make sure he was not seeing a vision, she smiled. Then he was certain she was an angel.

  “You sleep a long time,” the angel said, her voice soft as a summer breeze. He tried to sit up but she gently held him back. “Not yet. You are still too weak.” He relaxed.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am called Magpie. I am Raven’s sister.” When he still looked puzzled, she added, “Long Foot’s wife.”

  “Oh, Long Foot’s wife.”

  She laughed and he could not help but notice that the sound of her laughter reminded him of the music made by a busy mountain stream. “I am not Long Foot’s wife. Raven is Long Foot’s wife. I am Raven’s sister.”

  For a reason he could not explain, he was glad she was not Long Foot’s wife. He studied her face intently. Magpie? he thought. The name somehow didn’t seem to fit the face he found so striking. It seemed more fitting that her name should be something more melodious, like Lark or Wren. So, he thought, my angel turns out to be Osage.

  He turned his head to examine his shoulder. It was wrapped in a clean cloth and no longer throbbed, and he realized his dizziness was gone. “You take care of this?” She nodded yes. “Cut the bullet out?” She reached behind her and held up a lead ball. He grinned. “Then I reckon I owe you my thanks.”

  “I am happy that you are feeling well again. I worried about you. You were very sick.”

  “How long have I been sleeping?”

  “Two days.”

  “Two days!” He bolted upright again. “Where am I, anyway?”

  “Lie still,” she cautioned, her voice calm and soft. “You’ll start the bleeding again. You are here in Long Foot’s tent at the soldier camp.”

  “I need to see the colonel,” he protested.

  She smiled and gently pushed him back down. “The soldier chief has already been here to see you. Long Foot has told him about Stone Hand. You must rest now.”

  He lay back and after a few minutes fell asleep again. His sleep was filled with dreams of Stone Hand and Long Foot, of Sarah and Magpie. Several times, in a state of almost waking, he was aware of a cool hand on his forehead. When next he opened his eyes, it was to behold the same angelic face that had been there before. It brought an instant feeling of contentment. In addition, there were two more sensations that he was acutely aware of—he felt like getting up, and he was starving.

  While Magpie busied herself getting him something to eat, he was visited by Long Foot and his wife, Raven. Long Foot, especially, looked relieved to see his friend bouncing back to health. “I think you dead for sure, damn right,” he announced.

  Jason smiled. “I reckon this ol’ hide’s too tough to kill. I sure can’t figure why I got so sick over a shoulder wound though.”

  “Stone Hand, his bullets make big medicine.”

  “I reckon,” Jason agreed. “And I thank you folks for looking after me.”

  “Magpie took care of you. She wouldn’t let anyone else near you.” He looked at Raven for confirmation. She nodded in agreement.

  CHAPTER 12

  Colonel Holder frowned as he listened to Jason’s accounting of the business of dealing with Stone Hand. He welcomed the news of the renegade’s demise but he would have preferred to have a body to display for the reservation Indians. When Jason finished, he thanked him and expressed concern for Jason’s wound. Jason assured him that it was not significant.

  “You ought to have Captain Welch take a look at it,” Holder advised.

  Jason shrugged. “I reckon not. Long Foot’s sister-in-law did a pretty good job on it.” He didn’t explain that he would damn near see his arm fall off before he would let John Welch look at it.

  “Suit yourself.” The colonel rose from his desk to shake Jason’s hand. “Thanks, Coles, I appreciate your help on this thing. I know you just hired on to track that renegade down, but if you want to stay on awhile I can keep you on the payroll.”

  “‘Predate it, Colonel, but I reckon I’ll take
a ride up to Colorado Territory. I want to get a cabin started before winter hits.”

  Holder smiled broadly. “I hear you saying the words but I just can’t believe Jason Coles is ready to settle down in one spot.”

  Jason grinned. “Well, I don’t guarantee I’ll stay there but I’m ready to give it a try. I’ve been thinking about maybe taking a little trip over toward the Bitterroots to do a little trading with the Nez Percés. They’ve got a fine stock of horses that I’d like to breed.”

  “Appaloosa?”

  “Yessir.”

  “You better watch your scalp, Coles.”

  There was scant need to warn Jason to be careful. His little valley was well hidden and he had never crossed trails with any of the mountain tribes, those that still roamed free of the reservation. But there were still a lot of free bands between his valley and the Bitterroots. The Shoshone and the Crow were usually friendly but he tried to avoid the Northern Utes and Blackfeet. There was never any thought in Jason’s mind about foregoing the trip because of the potential danger. There was always danger. The simple fact was that the breed stock he wanted was in Nez Percé territory, so that’s where he would go to get it.

  He said his good-byes to Colonel Holder and went outside to find a stern-faced Maxwell Kennedy waiting for him. The sergeant major took him by the elbow and led him away from the headquarters tent before he spoke. The look on his face told Jason that he wanted to talk about something awfully important. “Damn, Max, you look like you bit into something rotten.”

  The sergeant major ignored Jason’s remark. The stern expression deepened. “So, you’ll be leaving us?”

  “I reckon.” There was a moment’s silence. “What’s on your mind, Max?”

  Kennedy looked quickly from side to side to make sure no one else was in earshot. “Sarah,” he whispered.

  “What about Sarah? I was just on my way to visit her. Is she all right?”

  “The colonel is planning to send her back East, back to Baltimore.”

  This was not news to Jason. “The last time I talked to her she said that was what she wanted.”

  “I know, I know,” Max returned. “But things have changed since you went out after Stone Hand.”

  “What things?” Jason prodded. He was beginning to become impatient with the sergeant major’s hesitancy to spit it out.

  Max hesitated, reluctant to say the words. “Well, for one thing…Sarah’s going to have a baby.”

  The words hit him with much the same impact with which Stone Hand’s bullet had smashed into his shoulder. A baby! His mind reeled for a moment. In considering all the trauma that had cascaded upon her as a result of the terrible ordeal with the savage…the assault, the violation…no one had even considered the possibility that she might have been left carrying the child of that murdering savage.

  “My God, Max…” was all he could mutter for a few moments while his brain staggered back to an even keel.

  “The colonel doesn’t know. Cora made me swear not to tell him. She’s afraid he might do something terrible if he knew. You know how damn proud he is.”

  “My God,” he repeated softly under his breath. “That poor girl.” He looked up quickly. “How’s she taking it?”

  “Hard. Cora’s been afraid she’s going to do something drastic.” Max watched Jason closely, measuring the scout’s reaction to the shocking news. He knew that Jason was more than a little fond of the colonel’s daughter and he wanted to make sure the news of her condition didn’t repel him. When he could see that Jason had nothing other than compassion for the girl, he said, “I thought you ought to know before you went to see her.”

  * * *

  “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You don’t like the way I look again.” She said it with a hint of sarcasm but it was not vicious sarcasm. Had her expression not been so somber, it would have passed for a joke.

  He had spoken not a word after his polite greeting upon entering the sergeant major’s tent, where Sarah was sitting with Cora Kennedy. They were peeling potatoes when he tapped on the tent pole. It was obvious to her that the tall scout was having difficulty arranging his words for what he wanted to say. His expression told her that he had already been told of her condition. Cora filled the void.

  “Well, for goodness sakes, look what drifted in from the hills.” She got up, handing her pan to Sarah, and moved to the cookfire. “Come on in, Jason, there may be some coffee left in the pot. We heard you were mighty sick for a spell. I was thinking you should have seen the doctor but Max said your Indian friends were taking care of you.”

  “Much obliged,” he mumbled when Cora handed him the cup. He moved over to a corner of the tent and sat down. “Yeah, they done a good job all right.”

  Sarah lowered her gaze back to the potato she was working on. “Sergeant Kennedy told you?”

  He nodded. “What are you going to do?”

  She glanced up, perplexed. “What do you think I’m going to do? I’m going to have a baby.” Her gaze dropped back down to the pan of potatoes. “What choice do I have?”

  “I mean, are you going back East?”

  Sarah looked up again, her face a mask of anger now. “I can’t go back to Baltimore. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? To show up at Mrs. Abigail Worth’s School for Girls with my little half-breed bastard.”

  Jason felt almost scorched by the intensity of her eyes. He took a moment to answer, glancing at Cora Kennedy, who was standing motionless, the coffeepot still clutched in her hand. It was obvious that the topic had been discussed at length between the two of them without a satisfactory solution to the young girl’s dilemma. “You’ll stay here then?” he asked.

  She was impatient with his apparent lack of understanding. “I can’t stay here. I can’t let Daddy know I’m going to have a baby. It would kill him.”

  “What are you gonna do then? Looks like you’re either gonna have to let the colonel find out about the baby or let whatever you said her name was at the school know. What are you gonna do?”

  “I don’t know. It seems I don’t have any other choices and neither of those two will do.”

  There was a long silence while Jason made up his mind to make his next statement. He got up from the camp stool and walked to the tent flap and tossed the dregs of his coffee cup outside. Then he handed the empty cup to Cora and turned to face Sarah. “There is one more choice if it wouldn’t be too rude for you. You could come with me to Colorado. We could take Long Foot and his wife to help you with the baby. He’s been talking about leaving Camp Supply anyway. Nobody here would have to know anything about it.”

  There was a silence longer than the one before. Neither woman spoke at first. Both stared openmouthed at the scout, who was now flushing visibly after having blurted out his invitation. Cora looked at Sarah, her face brightened considerably, searching for the young girl’s reaction to Jason’s proposal. Sarah hesitated a moment longer before responding.

  “That’s sweet of you, Jason, but I don’t think of you in that way. I’m fond of you but not in that way.”

  Jason was quick to explain. “Oh, no, ma’am. I didn’t mean nothing like that.” He had to admit that at one time he had considered the possibility but now he was not so sure. Sarah would always have a special place in his heart but she could never be the woman he could see in his future. He hastened to reassure her. “I meant that it would be a place to have your baby without anyone knowing. Long Foot’s wife would more’n likely take the baby and raise it as her own. Indians are like that, especially Osage. They don’t ever mind a few extra younguns in the tipi.”

  Cora looked from Jason to Sarah, then back to Jason, where she allowed her gaze to rest. She was thinking what a wonderful solution it would be if there were more to Jason’s offer than just being a good Samaritan. Sarah could do a great deal worse than Jason Coles. As she studied Jason’s eyes, she concluded there was no longing there. Pity, she thought, waste of a good man. She spoke up. “Seems like a mighty good solution to your
problem, honey. Jason might have a pretty good idea there.”

  “Daddy would never stand for it…running off to the wilderness with Jason Coles. Why, he’d probably kill both of us.”

  “He doesn’t have to know,” Cora quickly replied. “He plans to send you back to Fort Cobb anyway. When you get there, instead of going on to the railroad, Jason can be there to take you with him. As far as your father will know, you’ll be on your way to Baltimore.”

  Sarah gave the notion serious thought then she spoke. “You’d do that, Jason?”

  “I would.”

  * * *

  It was late summer when they left Camp Supply and started out toward the Colorado Territory. Sarah, with a military escort, traveled in the same ambulance that had delivered her to Camp Supply some months earlier. The only difference was the absence of Captain John Welch on this return trip. Jason, accompanied by the scout, Long Foot, Long Foot’s wife, Raven, and Raven’s sister, Magpie, set out in generally the same direction but on a different trail. Max and Cora stood with Colonel Holder and watched the departing parties until they had cleared the willows by the stream and plunged into the rolling prairie.

  “Damn…excuse me, Cora…but I’m relieved to see that girl on her way back East.” Colonel Holder exhaled. “She had no business coming out here in the first place. Folks back East just can’t realize how savage these people out here are.”

  “That young lady has too much spunk to spend her life teaching little girls how to hold their teacups,” Max said. “Yessir, that’s quite a little lady you got there, sir.”

  The colonel ignored the remark, shifting his gaze toward the small party of four disappearing over a gentle slope in the prairie. “What do you suppose makes a man like Jason Coles want to go up into the mountains to settle down? I offered him a steady job here but he said he wants to raise horses.”

  “Hard to say, sir. Coles is a hard one to figure out.” He stole a quick glance at his wife. She met his gaze with the hint of a smile.