Bittersweet Ecstasy (24 page)

“You’ve got rocks in your head!” Smith nearly shouted at him.

“I was at Fort Henry in ‘82 when Major Hodges thought he could capture the Eagle, and darn near got us killed with his scheme. Oh, he lured Gray Eagle into his trap, but not for long. We had him trussed up like a chicken, standing in Hodges’ office, and he tricked his way free. I should know, I was the guard holding a gun on him.”

“Well, what happened?” Smith asked impatiently.

“Hodges was boasting to this Spaniard named Don Diego de Gardoqui, who was visiting us for his government. I won’t ever forget that day. Hodges argued like a wild man when Diego insisted Gray Eagle be cut loose ‘cause his wrists were bleeding all over the floor. Hodges kept spouting about Gray Eagle wasn’t just any man and couldn’t be trusted. Diego pulled rank on Hodges and he buckled. Afore we knew what hit us, Gray Eagle had snatched Hodges’ knife and had it at Diego’s throat and was demanding his freedom. Lordy, Hodges wanted to let Gray Eagle slit it for him, but he knew what trouble he would be in if he did. He let the Eagle fly away as pretty as you please.”

“How the hell did you survive?”

“Gray Eagle made Hodges tie me up, then he walked right out of there, without killing a single man, except the one who betrayed him and got him caught.” Course, his horse was the one who did Jed Hawkins in for him, but he ordered it and that steed obeyed, like everything else does as he says. But Hodges was real riled and set another trap for Gray Eagle. He had soldiers attack Running Wolf’s camp; that was when the old man was still alive and chief. Major Sturgis over at Fort Meade tried to reason with Hodges and Collins, but they wouldn’t listen. I must have some angel watching over me ‘cause I was sick with dysentery and couldn’t ride out with them. The Eagle fooled ‘em and wiped ‘em out. It wasn’t long before Hodges vanished one day. Still don’t know what happened to him, but I can guess.”

This time, Smith did not interrupt when Clint caught a breather and sipped more water. “Somehow Sturgis wrangled a treaty with Gray Eagle and things settled down until he left in ‘95, then hell broke loose again, because the new commander in this area wouldn’t
honor Sturgis’ treaty. He stirred things up so much that he got Fort Dakota nearly destroyed that following year. That time, it was Lieutenant Timothy Moore and the Eagle’s son in the middle. I was at Fort Meade then, but we heard what happened from a few survivors.”

Clint glanced at Smith again and was surprised to find the man listening intently, for Smith rarely held silent very long. “This tiny white girl who belonged to Bright Arrow arrived at the fort, enchanted Moore, then helped Bright Arrow escape. From what we were told, Moore was completely fooled by her and was planning to marry her. She must have been real clever and pretty to pull off a
coup
like that. While Moore was off trying to wipe out the chiefs and leaders at a war council—sound familiar, sir?” he hinted pointedly— “Gray Eagle attacked Fort Dakota and Moore’s troops. I don’t need to tell you, only a few men survived and the fort was plundered.”

“You ain’t got your facts straight, Clint,” Smith debated. “Timothy Moore isn’t dead. He’s on his way here with General Cooper.”

“Yep, as a major. After he lost his fort and men, he was demoted to a private. He’s been working his way back up the ranks for years. I bet his desire for revenge is as red as his hair.”

“You know Moore?”

“Yep. He was at Fort Meade for a while, then back at Fort Dakota after she was rebuilt. He was one of the men called back east in ‘12 to help fight those English devils. I bet he’s been chomping at the bit to get back here and finish this matter with Gray Eagle and his son. Seems like some men don’t learn from their mistakes.”

“What happened to the white girl?” Smith asked suddenly.

“Rumor said she married the Eagle’s son, then they got rid of her. Name was Rebecca Kenny. Sure would
like to meet me a woman like that,” Clint murmured dreamily. “Then I wouldn’t be single long.”

Smith sighed heavily and sank into deep thought, from which Clint withdrew him. “Right after them mappers, Lewis and Clark, came through, people started heading this way. More of ‘em after the war ended in ‘15. The more which comes, the more the Sioux gets riled. If’n I was President Monroe, I would be real careful out here.”

“Why should we? We own this damn land, paid enough for it.”

Clint laughed and shook his head. “It weren’t the French’s to sell, and it ain’t ours to claim. If’n we wanted to buy it, we should have dealt with the real owners, them Sioux. And we should have waited for General Cooper to arrive before we brought our asses here today.”

“Major Butler ain’t got no intention of waiting for Cooper to steal all the glory, and medals, and promotions. Hell, man, there’s history to be made here!” Smith exclaimed excitedly.

“Yep, past history, ours,” Clint Richards scoffed.

“Not with Rochelle’s tricks to help us,” Smith argued.

“You really think those exploding balls are going to work?”

“You will too when you watch Gray Eagle go
poof.”
Smith clamped his hands over his mouth to prevent his raucous laughter from spilling forth into the quietness which surrounded them.

Clint eyed the wicked man and shook his head. He wished he was anywhere but here today. Gray Eagle had spared his life once, and that memory had never deserted him. Gray Eagle was a great leader, and a special man, and Clint hated to think he’d be killed in this cowardly and despicable manner. A soldier like the
Eagle should die in battle; it turned Clint’s stomach to envision this kind of death.

Gray Eagle rode between his sons on a ghostly white stallion, for his beloved Chula had been set free from old age years ago. It was a must for a warrior to have a mount who was fleet, responsive, agile, alert, strong, and smart. A warrior depended on his horse in battle and on the hunt for his success and survival. It was one of the highest
coups
to steal a foe’s war horse, which, in battle, carried symbols of his and his master’s prowess. Such a prized animal was kept near a warrior’s tepee and was cared for lovingly, and only he could ride it.

At most times, a warrior rode bareback with only a leather thong in the animal’s mouth for control and guidance. Sometimes, a light saddle which was made of a hide filled with grass or buffalo hair was used. The Indian horses could not be compared to the white man’s mounts, for the Plains-bred animals far excelled those used by the Army.

During an Indian boy’s training period, which covered many years, he was taught how to fight and ride simultaneously by using the animal as a shield. As with hand-to-hand fighting, lance throwing, arrow shooting, and hatchet tossing, a boy was drilled in battling on horseback with all weapons. He was also taught how to retrieve a wounded comrade by practicing with objects with grew larger and heavier as his size and skills improved. By the time he was a warrior, he could pick up a wounded or slain warrior and carry him away without breaking his speed. Agility for this necessary skill came from years of races, games, and sports which involved all of his senses working as one.

The four Sacred Bow carriers rode as the four points
of the Medicine Wheel—one on each side, one in the front, and one in the back—as it was their duty to protect their people with their lives and skills, just as it was the responsibility of each man not to allow a sacred bow to fall into the hands of an enemy if a carrier was slain. The four “shirt wearers” rode amongst the council members, chatting genially, while the two scouts stayed ahead of the group, ever alert for any sign of danger.

The scouts had checked the first two canyons thoroughly and were approaching the third and next to last one before they reached open land. They had decided, if there was trouble, it would come at the last one, five miles beyond this point. One had ridden to the left and one to the right to scan behind the clusters of tall boulders; neither had sighted horses or men. They entered the canyon and studied it, finding no tracks and hearing no sound. They waved the party forward…

The four Sacred Bow carriers rotated their positions, placing Sun Cloud to the left of the group. Bright Arrow dropped back to speak with Flaming Star, son of White Arrow. Gray Eagle did the same to speak with the war chief, Big Elk. Powchutu was talking with Strong Heart and Snow Warrior as they entered the canyon at three o’clock.

Powchutu adjusted the shield he was carrying for his half brother. His eyes roamed its taut surface. The pattern represented the powers of the sky and its starburst design gave its owner protection. An ermine skin, for an ermine was said to deliver messages from the Great Spirit, was attached to its center, along with four eagle feathers from the warriors of the sky. Sacred and magical tokens,
coup
feathers, and scalplocks were fastened to its borders and at points on the painted star. It was a shield few men earned the right to make and to
carry, and it thrilled him to know his bloodline possessed one.

“Which one is him?” Smith whispered to Clint as the unsuspecting Oglala band neared the center of the enclosed area.

Clint peered between the rocks and replied tonelessly, “The one near the front, with gray hair, carrying that Shooting Star shield.”

Smith’s eyes enlarged as he recognized the old man who had visited the fort under the name of Tanner Gaston. He was astounded to realize he had met and spoken with the Eagle himself! Surely Red Band had been half-accurate, and that second man had, indeed, been Bright Arrow, son of Gray Eagle. How those two Indians must have laughed at their stupidity. But soon, he vowed, he would have the final laugh.

The signal to attack came when the band reached the appointed place. Suddenly bursts of light and loud noises filled the air as grenades, designed by Captain Andre Rochelle, were tossed into the group. Smoke surrounded them; horses reared and whickered; and men and mounts went down. There was a desperate scramble for weapons and cover, but gunfire opened up on them; and more men and horses were slain.

Some made it to the rocks nearby, but they were trapped between their enemies. It looked impossible to get to the wounded and dead. Bright Arrow saw his father move slightly and his heart pounded fiercely. Amidst gunfire, he flung himself onto his horse. Hooking one heel over his mount’s back and beneath the thong which surrounded his belly, he caught his rein in the bend of his elbow, slipped to the animal’s side, and raced toward his father. Concealed by his horse’s body, no soldier could recognize him as the man who had visited the fort as Clay Rivera. He moved so quickly and skillfully as he mounted and retrieved
his father, that no musket fire struck them.

Having that same intention, Sun Cloud swept up Powchutu as his brother was rescuing his father. Both made it to the safety of cover and placed their precious burdens side by side. From his uncle, Sun Cloud took the shield which Powchutu had refused to release earlier, and placed it beside his wounded father.

The others were returning the gunfire with arrows when a target seemed in the clear, for it was foolish to waste shafts when they were pinned down. The two scouts lay dead near the front of their column. Sun Cloud checked for movement from any of the other fallen warriors, but saw none. His tormented gaze went to his father’s face.

“Sun Cloud,” Gray Eagle spoke weakly, “you must ride for help.”

“I am needed here, Father,” he protested, knowing the odds.

“You must go quickly before more bluecoats arrive and we all die.”

Sun Cloud knew his father could not survive his wound long, and he hated to leave his side. “It is your duty, Sun Cloud,” Gray Eagle said.

Sun Cloud’s eyes sparkled with moisture as he embraced his father and vowed, “I will return and slay them all, Father. I love you.”

“Remember all I told you and taught you, my son. Go quickly.”

Sun Cloud mounted in the rescue fashion and galloped from the canyon. As Plenty Coups watched his dust lengthen, he told his dying chief, “He is away safe, my friend and brother.”

Gray Eagle looked at Bright Arrow. “You must return to camp and warn our people, for the bluecoats may strike there next. Care for your mother, Bright Arrow, for she was my life.”

As with Sun Cloud, Bright Arrow protested with damp eyes, “How can I leave you and the others unprotected, Father? They are many.”

“Do you wish them to attack our camp by surprise? You are a shirt wearer and must do the bidding of the council and your chief. You must not die this day, for the Great Spirit has work for you. Your duty is to your people, Bright Arrow, not to yourself or to your family. I am old, and my life has been long and good; do not risk all for a dying man. The lives of many are more important than the life of one or those of a few. You must take all of my possessions with you; do not allow the bluecoats to have bloody souvenirs from Gray Eagle.”

“But how can you fight without your bow, lance, and shield?”

“My fighting days are over, my son; you know this. The Great Spirit calls my name this sun, and I must answer. All is good with me.”

Anguish seared through Bright Arrow as he watched his “vision” coming true. He removed Gray Eagle’s
wanapin
from his neck and collected his other possessions. He raged at the gunfire which was filling the area around them. “I love you, Father, and I will return for you when my mission is done. I swear on my life and honor, no white man will touch you this day or any day.”

Gray Eagle smiled faintly. “Remember all I have taught you, my son, and lead your people wisely and bravely,” he remarked without meaning his words to sound as he and others nearby took them. “Go quickly, and tell your mother of my love for her.”

Bright Arrow embraced his father as he fought back his tears. “The white man will curse this day, Father; this I swear.” He did as his brother earlier, and cleared the canyon with only a slight wound.

Gray Eagle looked at Powchutu. “Our lives have been entwined since birth, my brother, and we will die together. It is good.”

Powchutu smiled and replied, “It is good.” Then he died.