Revenge Requires Two Graves

by George Emery Townsend

  Chapter 24

  Warrior

  The next morning found Larry and Ray several miles out from the wagons hoping to find their next water supply. It was going to be a longer drive today for the wagons to be able to camp near a water source. No one was too fond of setting up a dry camp. Stopping at a small dry riverbed to check for water, they tied their horses to a couple of tree falls. There was a ten-foot rise on both sides of the river. The wheels of several hundred wagons had broken down the bank. Kneeling down on their knees, they began to dig into the soft sand, realizing before long there wasn’t any water below the surface. Larry and Ray rose to start back to their horses when Horse whinnied. Grabbing his snout to keep him quiet, Ray waited for another horse to answer. It wasn’t a long wait. Down by where wagons had crossed and headed in the same direction rode two Indians. In front, there was a very proud looking warrior and behind him, with less stature rode a small woman. The boys stood as still as they could and held tight to their horse’s reins. Having no cover their only hope was that the Indians wouldn’t look in their direction. The brave reached the other side of the small stream and headed up the broken down bank on the opposite side. Just as the woman started to climb out of the riverbed, she turned and spotted them. She let out more of a scream than a warning to her brave. The boys’ presence had apparently frightened her. Like a bolt of lighting the warrior rode off the rise in front of them. He was upon them before they could move. Larry was struck by the warrior’s left leg, falling to the ground. The warrior tightly turned his mount and was quickly back on them before they could mount a defense. With a rock tied to the end of a long stick the Indian swung out and connected with Ray’s shoulder. To his anguish he realized that spot was the only one left that didn’t already hurt.

  As the warrior turned his horse again, Ray, finally catching his wits about him, ran toward the turning steed. He jumped up and grabbed the warrior from his horse. The Indian flew to the ground, hitting the sandy riverbed hard, but not hard enough to end the battle. He was back on his feet with his knife in his hand. Before Ray had a chance to reach for his, the Indian circled Ray, preparing to make his move.

  Ray knew he was no knife fighter. He knew he had only gotten lucky back in that Indian camp. Fortunately, he noticed Larry sneaking up behind the Indian with a large rock held over his head. Unfortunately Larry tripped on a piece of driftwood and fell, dropping the rock next to the brave. The good news was it gave Ray time to secure his knife. Now was the time for a crash course in knife fighting and the winner got to live.

  Like a cat the warrior dove at Ray, his knife slicing a small cut across Ray’s right thigh. Ray countered by swinging his blade and managed to put a hole in the Indian’s buckskins.

  Ray figured if he got killed now, at least this winter the man would remember him when the cold wind blew through that small hole.

  Ray was trying to collect as many small victories in this fight as he could. He was able to cut the back of the warrior’s buckskin jacket as he dove past. Ray rolled past the Indian and up on his feet in one movement. That’s when Ray saw the squaw standing directly behind him, holding their horses. The brave stared at Ray and began to smile. Ray knew he was no match for the Indian’s skill with a knife. The Indian began to move forward toward him when the squaw stepped up, running her blade deep into the Brave’s back. He turned to face her and raised his knife to stab her. Ray raced in and grabbed his arm and pulled it back. The Indian fell backwards onto the knife, driving it deeper into his spine. With a contortion of his body he died in the sand of the riverbed.

  Ray stepped back from the woman who had just saved his life and didn’t know what to say or what to do. Why had she done this? Ray was sure the smile he had seen from her earlier was a smile of a proud squaw about to witness another victory from her man. Slowly moving towards her, she stepped back, raising her hands in defense.

  “It’s okay I’m not gonna hurt you. Do you understand?” Ray said as he tried to read her face.

  By this time Larry was up and moving to Ray’s side, "Well what do we have here?” smiled Larry.

  “Well, I’m not sure. But I do know she just saved our lives,” Ray answered while keeping his eyes on the frightened squaw.

  “It really is okay; we’re not here to hurt you. Why did you save us? Why did you kill your man?”

  “HE NOT MY MAN!” yelled the small framed woman. And with that she began to tear at her clothes and scream in pain. Tears ran down her face as she fell to her knees and then flat on her face, weeping. There didn’t appear to be any letting up. Larry and Ray didn’t know what to do. Ray was afraid if he reached down to comfort her, she just might have a hidden blade with his name on it. He looked at Larry and shrugged his shoulders. He then knelt down next to her, and began to pat her on the shoulder. She didn’t react to his touch so he began to talk softly to her, trying to give her some reassurance. Slowly her crying subsided and she rose up onto her hands and knees. She then rolled over onto her backside and sat up. This was the first time Ray really got a clear look at her face. The tears that had flooded down her face had washed away a lot of trail dust, revealing fair skin instead of the deeply tanned, weather hardened skin of a Sioux.

  “Larry! This is a white woman!” Ray announced.

  “What?” said Larry as he leaned down and looked directly into her face. He apparently got too close as she raised her hand and placed it squarely on Larry’s face, pushing him back. He fell over backwards with his boots rising straight into the air. Ray looked to Larry to see if he was okay, then he heard her starting to laugh. All the pain and suffering she had endured was all working its way out. If she could laugh then there was hope for her yet, thought Ray.

  Ray stayed with the woman while Larry took one of the Indian ponies and rode off to catch up to their mounts. It wasn’t long before he returned and they helped the woman back onto her horse. She rode quietly between them, constantly looking all around them. In a couple of hours they reached the wagons. Seeing them riding in with an Indian, Mr. Woods called a halt to the procession.

  “What in tar nation have you two done now? Don’t you know what the Sioux will do when they hear you’ve stolen one of their women?” questioned Quincy.

  “She was one of our women first, Quincy. She’s a white woman,” Ray stated.

  About then two or three of the front drivers approached them with anger written all about their faces.

  “I don’t give a good Goddamn if she is white. Once she bedded down with an Indian Buck, she became Indian. She ain’t no white woman no more. Send her back before Red Cloud comes to fetch her,” yelled one of the men.

  “Yeah! Yelled another, all she’s good for now is to get us all killed!” yelled another angry traveler.

  Several others joined their group as the protest grew. Ray knew the vile things they said cut deep into this small woman sitting on her horse next to him. He just couldn’t take it any longer.

  “The next person who has anything ugly to say about this person sittin’ next to me will have me to deal with.” Ray knew he could take most of the family men on the train, but a few of the drivers were pretty game. He was hoping they would base their decision to beat him up on all the high tales that had been spread around the camp about his fighting ability.

  “Now look Ray, we ain’t got no fight with you, and you don’t have to get all riled up. We have our families to think of. What if Red Cloud comes after her?” asked one of the husbands as he walked up to the group.

  “Listen. I know this is a raw deal. I know the risk we face. But if we were to send her back out there they would kill her. She saved our lives out there and I plan on being there for her as long as it takes,” stated Ray.

  The woman turned and looked into his eyes with such emotion that he could tell this was the first measure of compassion she had felt in a long time.

  “Now all you men just break this up, now,” came a familiar voice pushing its way through the group.

>   Emerging in front of the woman’s horse stood Florence and Sis. “Shame on you people, this is a frightened child of God and we will not have any harm come to her.”

  Florence and Sis moved around to the side of her horse, reached up and with reassuring hands helped her down from her mount. They threw a blanket over her shoulders and wrapped their arms around her waist. Together they walked her through the group and back toward their wagon.

  Over Sis’s shoulder she was heard to call out exalted, “she will be our first conversion on this train!”

  Under Quincy’s breath Ray heard him say, “Heaven help her.”

  “Okay gents, there’s a chance we can move through this area before the Sioux know she’s gone. So we better double all the guards tonight and ride with a rifle in the box next to ya,” said Quincy. “Now back to the wagons and let’s see if we can’t put some distance between them and the stream up ahead.”