Blood Feather (11 page)

Over the past several days, the psychotic killer had been watching people going to other people's houses. They would knock on the front door of the house in every case. Someone usually answered, and they would enter the house. Although
We Wiyake
had not lived in a circle of lodges since he was a teenager and had been on his own in the wilds all that time, he remembered that this was similar to what the Lakota did. If you went to someone's teepee and wanted to visit, you would scratch your fingernails on the outside of the buffalo-hide housing next to the door.

He crept through the rocks to the hiding spot where he kept his big draft horse picketed. He placed the war bridle, the white man's saddle, and the blanket on it, and affixed the parfleche he carried his supplies in, as well as the rifle he had but seldom used, a Henry repeater, and a bow and quiver of arrows. Behind the saddle he had his giant buffalo coat tied.

He now started back down the mountainside toward Annabelle's house. Being careful to stay among the shadows, the giant made it to her yard in just over an hour.

From the edge of the yard, he could see movement through the windows. Then, as he inched through the shadows, he could hear the faint sounds of laughter coming from Belle and Missy.

Creak!
He froze as a streak of light shot from the front door of the neighbor's house across the street. A man walked out the door. He was wearing a six-shooter and walked directly at Blood Feather, who was only armed with his giant knife. His pace was fast, and Blood Feather stood still in the shadow of the several hardwood trees in the yard.

His hand squeezed the handle of the giant knife, but then the man simply reached down and picked up a stick horse sitting on the edge of Belle's front yard. He turned and walked back to his house.

Blood Feather's expression remained unchanged, as always. He moved slowly forward and finally looked through a window. Belle was seated near the front door, and Missy was on her lap smiling intently as the beauty read to her from a book.

We Wiyake
moved around to the front door of the house, checking the dark street in both directions. There was no light in front of the house, just deep shadows of the trees, so he stood back a little in the darkness. His ham-sized fist reached out, and as he had seen the
wasicun
do, he rapped lightly and politely on the door. His other hand held his giant knife.

Belle was startled by the sound, and Missy jumped off her lap.

Bellle stood up and smiled at Missy. “I wonder who is visiting at this time?”

She looked through the small window but could not make out the figure in the shadows. Smiling, she flung the door open, and
We Wiyake
's giant hand came out of the darkness and grabbed her by the throat, pushing her back into the room. Missy screamed as she looked up at the giant monster whose head was touching the ceiling. Annabelle tried to scream, but nothing would come out of her mouth because of Blood Feather's grip. She looked down at the giant knife blade and her heart beat in her ears; she felt weak in the knees and could not swallow or breathe.

The little girl started to run, and Blood Feather reached out with that gargantuan arm and snatched her up with one hand, pulling her up to his chest, where he held her tight. She screamed bloody murder, and he raised the knife to her throat. When she stopped screaming, he lowered it.

The sight of this behemoth would have been enough to make most women unable to speak at all.
We Wiyake
stared at Belle with those deep, dark, blank eyes. His head touched her ceiling, and he wore leather-fringed leggings, moccasins, a breechcloth, a few feathers in his long black braided hair, a buckskin war shirt, and that giant knife, which would almost have been a broadsword to a normal-sized man.

Missy silently sobbed in his massive arm, and as frightened as she was, Belle rose, jaw set.

She said, “Do you speak English?”

He just stared at her with that blank look. Summoning all her courage, she stepped forward, hands outstretched, to take Missy out of his grasp. The knife came straight up and cut away the front of her clothing, which fell off to both sides. She pulled it together covering herself, and her immediate thought was that she was now going to get raped, too. But she noticed that his eyes never dropped down to see the brief glimpse of her nakedness. He seemed to have no interest, and that she immediately sensed with a great deal of relief.

He stepped toward her and Belle's heart skipped a beat. She did not know what to say or what to do. She was almost paralyzed with fear, and all she could think of was not to make him angry or he might snap Missy's neck like a twig or even dash her against the fireplace. Belle wondered why he had stepped closer, and suddenly his arm swept up with blinding speed. She could not react, and the heel of his hand struck her on the point of the chin. She sailed backward through the air and felt her back hit the wall, and the room started spinning. Before she slid, unconscious, to the floor, she felt panic as she saw
Wi Wiyake
open her front door and step into the night with Missy in his arm.

9

Taking Flight

They moved through the shadows, and Missy knew she had to not yell. She could just sense it. She had stopped sobbing now. Now the little girl's mind was focused on survival.

He moved effortlessly and tirelessly through the rocks up the hillside and finally to his hiding place and his latest stolen draft horse. Missy had never seen a man so large in her life, and now she was seeing a horse that also was much bigger than any she had ever seen. He climbed up into the saddle and put her in front of him. They rode down the other side of Razor Ridge, to the road that wound its way out of town and up Eight Mile Hill. It would slowly climb up another thousand feet. However
,
We Wiyake
was only going part of the way up that road, then back over the rocks to the area on the town's west end, where Strongheart usually stayed. The river was down there, and he forded the mighty Arkansas right after entering the steep-walled Grand Canyon of the Arkansas, which decades later would be renamed the Royal Gorge. He headed toward the egress of Grape Creek, where it poured into the big river, and he would follow the creek up to higher ground in the mountains.

Blood Feather had picked this route from his hideout up on Razor Ridge, simply because he saw that it was rocky, and he was on a gigantic draft horse, which would have been very easy to follow on normal soil.

Missy was so tired when they finally stopped, well after midnight, and camped briefly. She saw high rock walls all around them, and
We Wiyake
built a larger fire than normal to keep the little girl with the special medicine warm. He bound her wrists and ankles with leather thongs and placed her close to the fire, covering her with his winter robe. She slept very soundly despite her fear.

Although she did not know it, he named her
Wicicala Waka
,
which is pronounced
Wee Chee Cha-La Wa-Kahn
and means “holy girl.”

* * *

When Annabelle opened her eyes, she did not know where she was. Everything seemed foggy. She went out her back door and to the outhouse, then returned. Once inside again, she realized that she had been watching her cousin's daughter, Missy. Then the appearance of Blood Feather came back to her, his cutting of her dress, slamming her against the wall, and then, remembered with horror, the sight of him carrying Missy out the door.

Belle got weak in the knees then sick to her stomach. She ran out the front door and emptied her stomach in the front yard. Quickly, she ran across the street and banged on the front door of the neighbor who'd come out earlier.

He opened his door, gun in hand, and Belle was bawling and shaking. He holstered his pistol and set his night lamp down and held her upper arms.

“Annabelle!” the man said. “What is wrong? Come in! Come in!”

His wife walked in wearing a nightgown and robe and put coffee on the stove. She handed Belle a hankie.

Between sobs Annabelle said, “I musn't cry. We must hurry. My cousin's little girl, Missy, has been staying with me for two days now. Tonight a gigantic Indian knocked on my door and abducted her, and knocked me out! You have to help me, Clancy.”

The man's wife let out a gasp of astonishment.

Clancy said, “How long ago did this happen, Annabelle?”

She thought and shook her head, saying, “I don't know. I was knocked out. When I came to, they were gone. His head touched my ceiling, Clancy. My ceiling is seven feet tall.”

Clancy whistled and said, “Martha, you stay with Annabelle and take care of her. I will get help! The sheriff must raise a posse quickly!”

Belle started sobbing again and said, “It is obviously the brutal assassin named Blood Feather who Joshua has been after. He is the same killer who murdered Joshua's friend, the Pinkerton agent, up on Road Gulch Stage Road. When Joshua was mauled by the grizzly, he was looking for his friend's body. I must get ahold of Joshua.”

Martha said, “If anybody can find them and save her, Mr. Strongheart can.”

While she comforted Belle, and they spoke about what had happened, Clancy was out rounding up two sheriff's deputies, and they got a dozen men together. One was a Ute Indian who was an expert tracker. These men were loaded for bear and anxious to go after this renegade who stole a little girl.

Sheriff Frank H. Bengley, who was helpful when Joshua had his big shoot-out in Florence, showed up and immediately swept Annabelle into his arms and tried to comfort her.

She said, “Thank you so much for coming this late at night, Sheriff. Can you try to get word to Joshua? He is in Colorado Springs.”

He said, “I will send a telegram immediately to the El Paso County sheriff. Don't worry.”

Men stood in the yard with torches while the Ute tracker began searching for Blood Feather's tracks and sorting out the trail. An hour later the entire posse followed the tracker up the side of Razor Ridge.

Belle spent the rest of the night at the neighbors' with no sleep. Strongheart arrived the next day before noon. Gabe looked well lathered. Clancy summoned him to his house and told Joshua he would get a stable boy to come and take care of Gabriel. Joshua handed him the money to pay the young man and went into the house.

Belle saw Strongheart walk in the door, and she leapt up from the Victorian couch and threw her arms around his neck crying. They kissed fervently and then he set her back down gently. Martha brought him a cup of coffee, and Belle told him all she knew.

This hit home hard with Strongheart. Although Belle had not been kidnapped, she could have been, and her innocent little charge, Missy, had been. This was his fear. The reason why he should not marry her. Now it had come home to roost.

Within an hour, Gabe was saddled and Joshua was downtown looking for a deputy.

He found one and spoke to him, learning that the posse had tracked
We Wiyake
to the mouth of Grape Creek and had headed up that gulch. Strongheart took off at a trot.

The Grape Creek drainage ran northeast from the Sangre de Cristo mountains near Westcliffe to Cañon City, pouring out into the Arkansas River right at the finish of the treacherous stretch of white water at the end of the Grand Canyon of the Arkansas. The drainage consisted of very scenic wild terrain, and the area had brook trout–filled pools and riffles in the high, forested ridges south of Cañon City, with elevations varying from 6,400 to 9,600 feet. There was much colorful vegetation, including sagebrush, rabbitbrush, cholla cactus, and yucca in the canyon, as well as piñon-juniper woodland, ponderosa pine, and Engelmann spruce forest, along with typical forest meadows at higher elevations.

There were many predators in the Grape Creek area, from grizzly bears to a high concentration of mountain lions, black bears, bobcats, coyotes, and many eagles, hawks, and falcons. Attracting the predation were high densities of mule deer, elk, and many types of smaller mammals.

The drainage was very rugged, with high rock walls in many places, lots of overhangs, caves, and a few unforgiving narrows along the creek, making it a rough ride for horseback riders, a very rough ride of thirty miles or better. What concerned Joshua was the fact that Grape Creek had many excellent ambush spots where the killer could hide and pick off posse members easily.

He pushed Gabe up the drainage quickly, at a mile-eating trot most of the time, figuring that being on the easy trail of the posse would be reasonably safe, as Blood Feather would be more likely to ambush the posse or individual members than someone trailing them.

Strongheart rode into their night campsite a couple hours after dark.

Blood Feather went high up into the rocks to make a campsite, where he built a smokeless fire in a large jumble of rocks with a flat caprock overhead. The fire reflected off the three rock walls and gave a lot of comforting heat. Missy was very hungry and ate heartily of the bowl of food Blood Feather handed her. She knew there was meat in it and wild vegetables but didn't really want to know what it was. She ate a second bowl.

Strongheart sat across the campfire from the sheriff, while both men drank coffee.

Joshua said, “Well, Sheriff, I wanted to give Gabe some time to rest, drink water, and eat some grain and graze. I need to saddle up and get going though. I will be riding well ahead of you and the posse.”

The sheriff said, “Well, Joshua, I know there would be nothing I could say that would stop you. If we can hear shooting, we will come running. Best of luck. We have a lot of grub. Why don't you take some extra with you?”

Strongheart said, “Thanks, but I am okay. I will drop sign for you along the trail so you can move faster.”

They shook hands, and Joshua whistled for Gabe while grabbing his gear.

It seemed that every man in the posse came over and shook hands with him, wishing him luck before he left. Strongheart headed up Grape Creek toward a date with destiny, another dangerous journey into the unknown, possibly against his toughest opponent ever.

Missy was so frightened of this crazy man, but she was praying that Joshua Strongheart might well be on their trail now.
We Wiyake
now had her sitting on a rock cross-legged, with the firelight playing on her long curls. He had painted his face with war paint and was smoking a pipe and, it seemed, singing a song to her. He would use his hands to brush the smoke over his head as it came out. He sang a deep, guttural song, and Missy could instinctively tell that he essentially was worshipping her.

Strongheart rode for miles, rightfully figuring that Blood Feather would stay in this gulch. Knowing the killer would camp up high, he finally spotted what he had been looking for. There was a faint glow high up on a ridge to his right front. Most people would not have noticed it, but Strongheart was looking for just such a thing. The reddish tinge reflected off the high part of several large rocks and showed him where
We Wiyake
had his small campfire.

Joshua rode Gabe up into the rocks and ground-reined him. He took his soft-soled Lakota moccasins out of his bedroll and stored his boots and jingle bob spurs in his saddlebags. The Pinkerton took a long swig of water from his canteen, checked his pistol, tucked his extra Peacemaker into the belt at the small of his back, and moved silently into the shadows.

He headed up the ridgeline and disappeared quickly, his movements a whisper gliding silently in and out of the rocks and piñons. The landscape here was very rocky on both sides, with Grape Creek cutting through the middle of the gulch. Iron Mountain towered over the area to Joshua's right, and the gulch spread out just ahead into a flatter area with more trees, an area called by the locals McClure Gulch. Just beyond that it came out of the Wet Mountain Valley, passing just north of Westcliffe, and into the Sangre de Cristo range near the base of fourteen-thousand-foot Hermit Peak.

The glow on the rocks grew brighter as Strongheart drew closer, and now he could hear the deep, guttural sounds of
We Wiyake
singing his chant to Missy.

Joshua now slithered on his belly, moving in and around boulders. He had gotten to the outside of the red and brown rocks surrounding Blood Feather and Missy, when suddenly there was a loud rattle from the rock directly in front of his face. It was a rattlesnake, a large one, and it was two feet in front of Strongheart. He froze. The chanting stopped, and now he heard a loud thud to his right. The snake rattled even more, and Strongheart felt drips of sweat rolling off his cheeks. Silence! His hand moved up slowly, ever so slowly, and finally reached his hat brim. He moved his hat down in front of his face and felt the snake's head hit the hat as he backed away from the rock.

He looked over and saw the large rock that had made the thud near him.
We Wiyake
knew the snake was rattling because it was alarmed, so he'd tossed the rock in hopes of exposing or startling whoever was stalking him.

Avoiding the buzztail, Strongheart slowly crept up over the rocks, a pistol in each hand, and peered into the camping spot Blood Feather had made. The fire was going strong but no Missy, no
We Wiyake
. Joshua did not want to walk into a trap, so he slowly circled the rocks and in the moonlight saw where the draft horse had been tied. It was gone, which is what he'd anticipated. As soon as Blood Feather heard the rattlesnake, he would have tossed the rock and gotten out of there quietly and quickly.

Strongheart decided to simply use the same site, same fire, and get some rest for himself and his horse. Knowing that
We Wiyake
would not be stupid enough to simply continue straight up Grape Creek, Joshua would divert to another route. The Pinkerton turned Gabe loose in a small park nearby and then on hands and knees studied the inside of the circle of rocks for any clue no matter how slight. He found nothing.

Knowing Blood Feather would be working hard to distance himself and not leave a trail, Strongheart slept the sleep of the dead that night, counting on Gabe to warn him of any danger. When they left shortly after daybreak, Joshua noticed that the posse had not even caught up to them yet. They were probably still getting organized, he figured.

Now Joshua would have to track carefully but as rapidly as possible. It was obvious that
We Wiyake
was insane, but he was, at the same time, very cunning and intelligent. The murderer would wait until daylight before setting off on a new side trail, because he would need daylight to securely cover his tracks. So he would push on at a fast clip, and at some point when it felt right he would slow down and start watching for the new cutoff trail.

Strongheart moved rapidly up the creek bed and soon left Iron Mountain far behind him. The trees finally thinned out, and he was blessed with the sight he never tired of. Across the valley floor, less than ten miles away, the majestic Sangre de Cristo range rose up before him, and there were snowcapped peaks as far as he could see to both the right and left. He emerged from McClure Gulch, turned northwest, crossed a small strip of prairie, and headed toward Reed Gulch. Strongheart just could never tire of this view, of what had been aptly described by many explorers and geographers as “the most beautiful mountain range in the world.” Starting to Joshua's right, it extended from Poncha Pass south 242 miles through southern Colorado, all the way to a spot north of Santa Fe in New Mexico Territory. There were ten peaks over fourteen thousand feet in height and twenty-five peaks over thirteen thousand feet tall. In some places the Sangre de Cristo mountain range was up to 120 miles wide as well. It was a wild, rugged area, which had enthralled all who'd cast their eyes upon it, but also had taken the lives of many who did not respect the sheer power of nature that traversed the entire range. The area was teeming with grizzly bears, black bears, usually colored in a cinnamon or blond phase, mule deer, bison, pronghorns, mountain lions, elk, big horn sheep, Rocky Mountain goats, wolves, wolverines, golden and bald eagles, hawks, falcons, wild mustangs, donkeys, bobcats, coyotes, foxes, martins, badgers, beaver, mink, and many small game animals.