Wilderness Double Edition 11 Page 18

  Two Humps had been watching the trapper and his wife with growing anxiety. When they fell silent, he signed, “Is your woman against your going, Grizzly Killer?”

  “She does not want anything to happen to me,” Nate hedged. “She thinks it best that I take my whole family along, and I agree.”

  Zach whooped for joy and spun in a circle. Winona smiled and squeezed her husband’s shoulder in gratitude.

  He Dog sputtered and stormed toward the table. “Do my ears hear right?” he angrily signed. “This white man wants to bring a woman on a raid? I will not hear of it.”

  Two Humps turned on the younger warrior and half rose out of his chair. For the benefit of the Kings, he used sign language instead of the Crow tongue. “It is not your place to say who comes and who does not. As for a woman making war, need I remind you that there is a woman warrior living with Long Hair’s band who has counted more coup than you have? If Grizzly Killer wants his wife to come, she can.”

  “She will slow us down,” He Dog signed. “And these mixed-breed cubs of hers have—”

  Nate King exploded out of his chair. He reached the stocky warrior in two bounds and slammed his fist into the Crow’s chin. He Dog was knocked back against the wall. Belatedly the hothead clawed for a knife on his right hip. Nate did not let him draw it. Another right to the jaw rocked He Dog to one side. A left jab and an uppercut stiffened him as rigid as a board. And a roundhouse right flattened the man in his tracks.

  Breathing heavily from his exertion, Nate slowly drew one of his pistols and pivoted. Some of the other warriors had started to move toward him but they stopped at sight of the flintlock.

  “Enough!” Two Humps urgently signed. “We came here to ask Grizzly Killer’s help, not to insult his woman or to attack him.”

  All the Crows but one heeded their leader. A lanky warrior made as if to lift his lance but checked his movement when two loud clicks sounded.

  Winona King had her rifle in hand. Zach had produced his pistol. Both guns were trained on the lanky warriors torso. He had only to see the fires blazing in the Shoshone woman’s eyes to change his mind about aiding his friend.

  Moving to his family, Nate placed his pistol on the counter within ready reach and signed, “You all heard He Dog. He had no right to heap abuse on us. He had no right to say those things about my wife.”

  The Crows exchanged glances. Little hostility was evident.

  Winona believed that most of the warriors agreed with her husband. But since it was her ability which had been called into question, she elected to demonstrate to them that she would be useful in the days ahead. “I want all of you to step outside,” she signed, and exited without bothering to confirm that they complied with her request.

  Stepping to the left, Winona searched the woods and spotted a large knot on a tree about as far from the cabin as an arrow could fly.

  Voices murmured. The Crows were gathered in a group, a few eyeing her skeptically. Nate and Zach were by the window.

  “See that knot?” Winona asked. Without waiting for a response, she aimed, compensating for the distance by hiking the barrel a hair, held her breath as her husband had taught her to do, counted to three in her head, and lightly stroked the trigger. Smoke and lead belched from the barrel, the smoke forming a cloud which momentarily hid the tree from view. She lowered the gun and signed, “I would be grateful if one of you would go examine the tree.”

  Two warriors bounded off. They hollered on reaching the trunk and pointed excitedly at the knot.

  Two Humps nodded and smiled. “They say you hit the knot in the center,” he signed. “I am impressed. It is a feat that would challenge our best bowmen.”

  “So there is no one else who would speak against me?” Winona asked, deliberately staring at the lanky warrior.

  No one did.

  Nate walked over to Winona and looped an arm around her shoulders. He was so proud of her, he was fit to bust. For the umpteenth time since the day they became man and wife, amazement came over him that so lovely and competent a woman had chosen him to be her mate. For the life of him he did not know what he had done to deserve her.

  “We will go off by ourselves and hold a council,” Two Humps said. “I will ask each man to give his opinion, and those who still do not want a woman along will be told to return to our village.”

  He Dog had to be carted from the cabin like a sack of grain. He was still unconscious and blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth.

  The Crows melted into the forest to the south. Zach waited until they were out of sight, then laughed and exclaimed, “Tarnation! You sure showed them, Ma! And Pa! You tore into that man like a riled grizzly!”

  “Its no laughing matter,” Nate scolded. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper. He Dog doesn’t strike me as the forgiving type. I’ll have to keep my eyes skinned the whole time from now on.”

  “I’ll watch him like a hawk too,” Zach volunteered. “If he tries to make trouble, we’ll teach him some manners.”

  Nate hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but he had to face facts. They hadn’t even left yet and already he had earned the hatred of one Crow and the ill will of a second. If he had a lick of common sense, he would back out before it was too late. But he couldn’t. Not with the welfare of the 14-year-old girl at stake.

  “Let us go inside,” Winona said. “I must check on our daughter and begin to pack.” She held her rifle at arm’s length. “I must remember to bring extra ammunition. Something tells me that we are going to need it.”

  Four

  At first light the next morning the war party of vengeful Crows and the King family departed. Not one of the Crows backed out, not even He Dog or his lanky friend, Runs Against.

  Nate wasn’t surprised. He Dog had a score to settle. The dour looks the pair frequently bestowed on him when they thought he wouldn’t notice were ample proof they had it in for him.

  The other Crows, though, were as nice as could be. Bull Standing With Cow, especially, pledged his undying friendship, and told Nate in sign language that for as long as they both lived, his lodge was Nate’s lodge and anything he owned was Nate’s for the taking.

  Since Nate had been asked to serve as their guide, he led the way to a notch in the ring of heavily forested mountains to the east. Beyond it, they paused on a wide shelf to enjoy a sweeping panoramic vista of the many stark lower peaks and rolling green foothills below, as well as the well-nigh limitless expanse of prairie stretching eastward for as far as the eye could see. It was a breathtaking sight.

  A switchback brought them to a meadow luxuriant with grass and flowers. Presently they came on a gurgling stream and paralleled its winding course lower to where it flowed into a swift but shallow river. This was the Big Thompson, as a few of the mountaineer men called it, and further on the river coursed through the spectacular Big Thompson canyon where towering rock ramparts hemmed the party in on both sides.

  Some of the warriors muttered uneasily and cast distrustful glances at the remote heights. Nate didn’t blame them. He had never much liked the closed-in sort of feeling that riding through the canyon always sparked. And, too, there was the ever present danger of massive boulders falling from on high. Twice in the past he had narrowly escaped being crushed to a pulp when that happened.

  Which explained why Nate so seldom took the Big Thompson route. There was another way into this remote valley, a winding trail long used by Indians and animals alike. The going was much easier and more open. Unfortunately, it would have brought them out of the mountains a good twenty miles south of where the Big Thompson canyon would.

  Winona rode behind her husband, their daughter nestled in the cradleboard on her back. Her mount was a favorite surefooted mare. In addition to her rifle, she had a knife and a pistol.

  The Shoshone woman did not fail to note the bitter looks that He Dog and Runs Against gave her man. She didn’t let on how pleased she was to see He Dog’s swollen, puffy lips and cheeks. Whenever the party stopped
to rest, she made it a point to keep her eyes on the two. If either lifted a finger against her husband, she would shoot them dead without hesitation.

  Zach was also watching his father’s back. When he thought of it. He was so thrilled at being allowed to go on the raid that his blood practically sang in his veins. He was giddy at the prospect of counting coup.

  Shoshones measured manhood by the same standard as the Sioux, the Cheyenne, the Crows and Blackfeet and many other tribes; by brave deeds performed in the heat of battle. When Zach visited with his mother’s people every summer, he heard countless tales of the exploits of famous warriors. War was all the boys his age liked to talk about.

  In order to rise in public esteem, a Shoshone boy had to count coup on his enemies. The more coup he counted, the more esteemed he became. It was as simple as that.

  Young Zach was no stranger to bloodshed. He had a number of coups to his credit already. He had even killed. But he wanted more coups, the more the better, and he prayed that the Great Mystery would grant him his heart’s desire when they struck Lakota country.

  In the meantime, the boy was intoxicated with excitement. He felt more alive than he ever had. The very air seemed invigorating, and his whole body tingled at times. He could barely sit still in the saddle and constantly shifted to take in all there was to see.

  So it was that Zach was the first to notice movement at the rim of the towering cliff to their right just as the war party entered a shadowed stretch where the walls narrowed, affording them barely enough room for their horses to proceed in single file.

  Zach looked closer. Eagles sometimes perched on the rim and he liked to watch them take flight. Occasionally, bighorn sheep appeared, prancing about the sheer cliffs as if they were on solid ground. But the thing he saw moving was huge and brown, and for a few moments he imagined it was a grizzly tumbling end over end. Then he recognized it for what it was. “Pa! One of the boulders is falling!”

  Nate took one glance and hollered, “Ride! Ride!” while motioning for the Crows to do just that. He jabbed his heels into the stallion’s flanks and took off at a gallop, hugging the wall to his right to avoid a misstep which might send him sliding into the river.

  The pounding clatter of heavy hooves drummed in Nate’s ears. He would much rather have moved aside so his wife and son could go past him, but there wasn’t enough room. Above him erupted a tremendous booming crash as the cabin-sized boulder bounced off a spur of rock.

  A look back showed the warriors were in full flight.

  The boulder was falling faster, gaining momentum rapidly. It smashed against the cliff time and again. Deafening crashes resembled the peal of thunder.

  The trail grew steeper, forcing Nate to concentrate on his riding to the exclusion of all else. A short slope brought him to a wide level area where he could give the stallion its head, but instead he cut to the right and slowed so Winona and Zach could get in front of him as he wanted. Once they were past, he fell into place beside Two Humps.

  The last warrior in line was also the youngest. His name was Feather Earring and he made no attempt to conceal his rising fright. Nate saw him look upward again and again, gauging whether he would get out of the way in time.

  It was close. Feather Earring was almost to the bottom of the short slope when the boulder impacted in the middle of the trail less than ten feet behind him. The ground shook as if from an earthquake and the high walls themselves seemed to shake and shimmy. A thick cloud of dust swirled skyward above the boulder as dirt and small stones and other debris rained down.

  Nate smiled in relief. They were safe. Or so he believed until the clouds parted and the circular boulder rolled down the slope in their wake, going faster and faster with every foot it traveled.

  “Go! Go!” Nate cried, urging the Crows on. Not that they needed to be prompted. They all saw the immense monster hard on their heels and lashed their mounts with their quirts or their reins.

  Feathered Earring let out a yelp. His horse had stumbled and nearly fallen and he had lost precious ground to the stone titan. He had a bow in hand which he frantically applied to his mount.

  Ahead lay a bend. If they reached it, they would be safe. But could they? Nate wondered as he flew across the level area with the wind in his hair and dust in his nostrils. The rumbling crunch of the boulder was growing louder by the second. He could have sworn it was right behind him.

  Incongruously, little Evelyn was smiling and giggling, having great fun. Her cherubic face and tiny fingers poked from the top of the cradleboard. When the mare swept around the bend and nearly lost its footing, she squealed in delight.

  Zach was so close to his mother that he had to haul on the reins of his pinto in order not to crash into the tottering mare. The trail broadened, enabling him to veer to the right. He went a score of yards, then drew rein to see if the Crows gained cover. Two Humps, Bull Standing With Cow, and He Dog came around the bend one right after the other. So did two other warriors. To his dismay, there was no sign of his father.

  Nate had slowed again to goad the warriors on. Runs Against flashed past him. So did Flying Hawk and Long Forelock. Feather Earring was yards back, flailing his flagging horse with all his strength. It was doing no good.

  The boulder was almost upon them. Rolling at an incredible rate of speed, with part of it in the river and part on dry land, it was like a raging bull or a runaway steam engine. There was no stopping it. Gravel, branches and brush were smashed to bits under its incalculable weight.

  Nate could delay no longer. Slapping his legs, he sped around the bend, twisting as he did. He saw the nose of the young warrior’s mount appear. And then there was a horrid screech and he saw Feather Earring and the animal caught under the onrushing goliath. There was wild desperation in the Crow’s eyes as the boulder rolled up over him. Man and horse were bent and flattened and reduced to a commingled reddish mass of oozing gore, pulverized flesh, and shattered bones.

  The boulder plowed across the river, throwing a wide spray in its wake. It rammed into the opposite wall with an ear-blistering concussion, fracturing the craggy surface in a regular spider’s web of small cracks and wider clefts.

  Panic seized some of the Crows’ horses. The animals pitched and plunged, whinnying in a frenzy of unbridled fear. The warriors held on for dear life. Flying Hawk was thrown onto his shoulder and lay there, dazed. He Dog was nearly unhorsed but grabbed his sorrel’s mane and belabored it about the head and neck with his fists until it calmed down and stood trembling like a frightened child.

  The black stallion quaked a few times but that was all. Nate rode over to Winona and Zach and placed a hand on each of them in turn. He did not say anything. Words weren’t necessary.

  The Crows called a halt then and there. A council was held. Since they conversed in their tongue, the Kings had no idea what was being discussed until afterward when Two Humps summarized the dispute.

  Four of the warriors had been in favor of going back. Led by Long Forelock, the faction maintained that the death of Feather Earring was bad medicine, an omen of worse to come.

  Bull Standing With Cow made an eloquent appeal, asking those who had children if they would be so eager to give up if it was their child and not his. He also pointed out to those who were not married that they had a sacred obligation to do all in their power to help members of their tribe whenever and wherever help was needed.

  The four men changed their minds.

  The Crows wanted to do right by Feather Earring but there were no trees nearby, nor was there enough left of him to scrape up and bury. They compromised. From a gravel bed in the river they gathered enough to cover the pulped remains with an inch-thick layer. A simple ceremony was performed and the journey resumed.

  From there on until the end of the canyon, each and every one of them rode with his or her eyes glued to the boulder-strewn heights. They avoided making any undue loud noises.

  At last the canyon widened and rolling foothills unfolded before them.


  The sun hung high in the afternoon sky, but not high enough to justify stopping for the night. Nate pushed on, wending lower past earthen and sandstone cliffs.

  They were shy of the prairie by just a few miles when twilight overtook them. Nate knew the region as well as he did the proverbial back of his hand. He selected a spacious clearing near the river for their camp. Enclosed by cottonwoods and willows, it offered adequate shelter from the wind and screened their fire from prying eyes.

  The Crows were in a somber mood. Saddened by the loss of their companion, they were not much interested in eating or talking.

  Nate made coffee and a stew from a rabbit he shot. He did the butchering while his wife went off by the river to feed their daughter.

  Winona did not care to have the Crows watch her breast-feed. Shoshones as a rule were not shy about normal bodily functions, but she had learned that other people did not share the Shoshone outlook. Some whites, for instance, considered it a sin for a woman to expose her breasts in public. Some Indians, the Cheyennes foremost among them, were just as reserved about nudity. She did not know the Crow attitude, but she was taking no chances. In the interests of harmony, she sat at the water’s edge with her back to the men and cradled Evelyn in her arms.

  The child sucked greedily, kneading Winona’s supple flesh with her small fingers. Nate had once told Winona that among his people it was not uncommon for a mother to stop breast-feeding when an infant was no older than a year and a half. The revelation had shocked her.

  Among the Shoshones, a mother often breastfed until the child was three or even four years of age. Her people were of the conviction that doing so instilled an even temperament. Cutting a child off early crimped the child’s character, contributing to insolence and rebellion later in life.

  Soon Evelyn had drunk her fill and was dozing in perfect bliss. Winona covered herself and gently rocked her daughter, staring down into that innocent face, her heart brimming with love.