Blood Feather (16 page)

The two brothers ran up and both kicked him in the rib cage, knocking the wind out of him and severely bruising the ribs. Most boys would have folded over and cried, but their kicks simply made Joshua furious. He came off the ground with a fury and tore into both brothers. His fists were swinging so wildly and so quickly, nobody noticed the horseshoes sticking out of both ends of his right and left fists. The faces of the bullies, however, showed signs of the horseshoes. Within a minute, both brothers were lying on the ground unconscious, each sporting two black eyes and a broken nose. Strongheart tucked the horseshoes back in his waistband, and nobody ever saw them.

He became the hero of the young girl he had defended, and of the whole community. His reputation grew, as it did with each telling the story of the fight. As he grew and gained confidence, Joshua realized how smart he had really been. One thing he never forgot was the butterflies he'd felt in his stomach when he'd had to face the two bullies, and the great fear that had clutched at him. It would have been so easy to start his life out as a coward back then; instead, Joshua Strongheart had chosen to act like a man. That decision started him on a pathway of being a hero whenever danger reared its ugly head.

He saw that the tracks of the big draft horse suddenly turned toward the southwest, far to his left.
We Wiyake
had gotten to a small brush-clogged arroyo running through the valley east to west and entered it, probably hoping the brush would obscure his tracks and slow Strongheart somewhat.

Joshua followed along the arroyo and kept his eyes moving along the ridges in front of him. Many of the ridges to the west, where he headed, were devoid of vegetation, which would offer much cover, but directly behind them were taller ridges covered with large growths of dark timber. Joshua Strongheart was positive that was where Blood Feather was right now watching and waiting in those trees, maybe preparing an ambush.

Missy watched the large back of
We Wiyake
while he looked through the stolen telescope he had resting and steady in the fork of a small tree. She was so frightened of this man, as he had started paying closer attention to her the past few days and was acting differently. Something about it made her even more nervous and much more uncomfortable. The little girl knew now was the time to do what she had been planning. Her hands were bound as usual by leather thongs, but she reached into her shoe and pulled out the little knife that Strongheart had heard about in the stable. She quickly cut through the bonds, replaced the knife, and slowly, quietly made her way back into the trees where the horses were. She knew every few minutes the killer would turn around and quickly look for her, and he would soon be after her with a fury. She was very, very frightened, but knew she must act now. Missy had been waiting for an opportunity like this.

She got the packhorse she had been riding, put the bridle on him, and tried to mount up bareback, but he was too tall. The little girl kept looking back toward the area of the trees she had just passed through, knowing the seven-foot monster would come charging through any moment. She thought of something new and quickly ran to his big draft horse, untied his lead line, and pulled him behind her. Reaching a small tree, Missy climbed up the branches sticking out each side, and jumped on her horse's back. She was so scared now she was whimpering in fear, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she had her mind made up.

She kicked her horse with both heels as hard as she could and held the lead line of the other horse in her right hand. The packhorse took off at a trot, with the big draft horse following. A few hundred yards away, Missy let go of the lead line and the draft horse quickly slowed and started grazing. The giant had already seen that she was missing and was running to catch up now.

Knowing he would soon be following, Missy kept kicking the horse's ribs, and finally got him into a canter. All she could see was trees, but she knew that Strongheart was in the valley toward the big peaks of the Sangre de Cristos, so all she had to do was ride toward them, seeing them easily in breaks between the trees. In minutes, Missy heard the hoofbeats of the large draft horse cantering far behind her and branches breaking as the seven-footer pursued. Tears streaked down her face.

Panicked, she cried and kicked the horse harder over and over, trying to get him into a full gallop. She looked back, and suddenly the giant killer on the big draft horse burst out of the trees, charging after her. Fortunately, the draft horse was no match for her mustang mount, especially with her not weighing more than a passing thought. The little mount sensed her desperation, and the gelding turned on his steam engine full throttle.

The killer raised his rifle and fired. She heard the bullet crack as it went past her left ear, and she actually felt pressure from the bullet as it whizzed by. Missy was almost paralyzed with fear. She was begging the little horse in a whisper to go faster. She did not know it, but Blood Feather was trying to shoot her horse in the head; he was still not ready to kill her. He never considered the fact that shooting her galloping horse in the head could very well kill her, because his mind did not work like any normal person's, red or white.

It now seemed to Missy that the harder she tried to make her gelding go faster, the more it slowed down, and she felt the monster was gaining on her. She wondered if she should give up and just stop and let him take her hostage again. The little girl had never been so scared, helpless, and lonely in her life.

Then she saw him. It was Joshua Strongheart, atop Gabriel, riding toward her at full gallop. Now tears streamed out of her eyes with hope. She saw his hand streak down and come up with his Colt Peacemaker, and she saw him carefully aim and fire. She heard the bullet crack as it passed over her, and she turned her head.

Blood Feather spun slightly on the horse's back as a bright spot of crimson appeared on his left shoulder. He turned the big horse and headed back toward the trees, bending down low over the horse's back. Joshua sent more bullets after him, pulled up, holstered his gun, and turned Gabe.

As Missy approached, Joshua yelled, “Keep going!”

She rode right by him, and he put the spurs to Gabe, quickly overtook her, reached over, pulled her from the saddle, and swung her behind him. She wrapped her little arms around his muscular body, and he headed east across the valley toward the towering Sangre de Cristo range. She held him as tightly as she could, closed her eyes, and laid her cheek up against his back.

Strongheart let Gabe stretch his legs in a fast lope, as they streaked across the wide valley floor toward the Sangre de Cristos. They were at the north end of the San Luis Valley, which was like the bottleneck of a giant water or milk jug. Here the valley was miles across instead of dozens of miles. Strongheart was about a mile or two south of the small town of Villa Grove. Hayden Pass was used by the Utes to cross from the Arkansas River to the San Luis Valley, and a small road came almost straight across the valley to the town of Villa Grove. Joshua hit that road in minutes and set out for Hayden Pass. It was named for an early Wet Mountain Valley settler on the other side of the range named Lewis Hayden, but just that year, 1875, another man, completely unrelated but named Ferdinand Hayden had crossed over and started telling people the pass was named after him.

Right now, Joshua did not know or care who the pass was named for. He was headed for it at a full gallop. First, he would head into the trees in the foothills, and then he would turn north to head to the trail going over the pass. The trail was steeper on the San Luis Valley side; then at the top there was a long ridge which slowly ran up through evergreens to timberline, to 12,500-foot Galena Peak and, to the south of the pass, Nipple Mountain, a breast-shaped mountain that had earned its name from obvious features. Then there was a long trail that switchbacked from the top of the 10,000-foot pass, and would lead Joshua to come out less than ten miles west of his good friend Zach Banta in Cotopaxi.

Joshua got inside the tree line so he was out of sight by anybody out in the valley. He stopped and dismounted. He pulled Missy down and wrapped his big, safe arms around her. She held on and just started sobbing.

He stroked her hair, saying softly, “I have you now, and I will not let him get near you again. I promise. You are safe, Missy, and I am so proud of you for surviving. We still have to move fast, because he will chase us. You might get tired and hungry. Will you keep being brave for me?”

“I want my mommy,” she said, but then added, “I'll be very brave, Mr. Strongheart. That man is mean and his head is crazy. He scared me so much.”

“How did you get away from him?”

She smiled. “Remember the little knife Momma gave me? I hid it all the time in my shoe. Then today, I cut the rawhide when he wasn't looking. He was in those trees,” she said, pointing toward them, “watching you with a spyglass. What about my horse?” she asked.

He said, “You do not weigh that much, so I decided to keep you with me so I can protect you better. Gabe doesn't mind. He likes pretty little girls.”

She grinned and put her head up against his broad chest and held tight to his shirt.

He mounted up, holding her, and set her up on top of his saddlebags, saying, “Okay, young lady, let's get you back to Cañon City. It will take us a couple days, but we will get there as fast as I can.”

They took off up the narrow weather-beaten road winding up the not-often-traveled Hayden Pass.

We Wiyake
quickly built himself a fire and stuck the end of his giant knife in it. He had to remove the bullet from his arm and get the bleeding stopped before anything. He was insane, but he was not stupid. In fact, he was extremely intelligent, but there had been a sickness in his brain from childhood.

While the knife heated, Blood Feather thought back to his childhood. He had witnessed his uncle murdering his aunt with a skinning knife. The uncle, an enormous warrior, saw him and gave chase.
We Wiyak
e was a youngster and his uncle was monstrous, but fat, too. The boy made it to a war pony and jumped on its back, taking off at a gallop as two arrows whistled by his head. The uncle mounted up and gave chase, and the young
We Wiyake
, who was then called
Agleska
, which means “lizard,” pushed the little war pony as fast as he could go. Figuring his uncle, who was far back, was out to kill him and would not give up, he headed toward the closest trees. Since the uncle was so tall and fat,
Agleska
reasoned that the big man would get held up by thick branches. He was correct. The uncle gave up shortly after entering the trees, but the young man slammed his head on a thick branch. It snapped his neck back, and he somersaulted backward off the rump of the galloping pony and fell unmoving on the ground.

Fortunately, the blow did not kill him, but it did crack his skull and gave him what would now be a grade-three concussion. He lay there unconscious for hours with a subdural hematoma. In short, his brain bled and was severely bruised. He awakened after darkness and had no idea where he was or how he got there.
Agleska
wandered aimlessly and in an hour got dizzy, fell, and hit his head on a rock, causing a second concussion within hours. In about three weeks, some of the headaches started to subside, but his personality had changed dramatically, and he suffered from permanent depression. He had amnesia and did not remember what had happened that day for about a half a year. He became essentially emotionless, and over the years that he lived on his own in the wilderness, his mind created his own spirit world, and these spirits, so to speak, became his mentors and the closest things to friends he would ever have.

That day was the last time he ever saw any of his family members, except one time in his twentieth summer when he came upon his village. A female cousin had married, and he sneaked into the village circle of lodges on the wedding night and crept into the wedding lodge to murder his cousin's new husband in his sleep. Then, lying next to his body, he tore off his cousin's buffalo robe and attempted to rape her, but he was unable to perform. He instead acted like he was prolonging the rape ritual just to see her frightened. Then, he started cutting her just to watch the sheer terror in her eyes. This was when he first learned this was the only thing that would bring him some feeling of being alive. Fascinated, he covered himself with her blood. As time went on, his killings became more ritualistic, and each part of the murder held some special meaning to him.

When he left his cousin's lodge, a red-tailed hawk feather came out of his hair and was soaked in her blood. The tribal elders then started calling him
We Wiyake
, “Blood Feather.” He learned of this later and kept the name, because he felt too old to be called “Lizard” anyway.

His eyes remained emotionless as he dug the knife blade into his bicep to cut out the Colt .45 bullet from Joshua Strongheart. It was mushroomed and half-buried in his humerus bone, which was cracked down the middle.
We Wiyake
knew he must first fix his arm and stop the bleeding or he would never get the girl back or eat the heart of his enemy.

Joshua made it over the rugged pass and was heading down on the Arkansas River side of the Sangre de Cristos. They rode into a narrow gulch that ran crosswise of their path toward the mountains. One quarter mile down, the gulch widened out and deepened. Missy could now see the thin ribbon of a stream far down below them, and figured that was where they were headed. Numerous slashes in the ground cut down into the sides of this gulch, and the possibility of hiding places lay everywhere. About halfway down to the stream there was a very long dead cottonwood log, which stretched out from the east.

As they approached it, Joshua said, “See that log down there?”

“Yes, sir,” Missy replied.

“When we ride by it, I'm not going to stop,” Joshua said. “I'm going to swing you down with my left arm, and you need to walk to the end of the log and wait for me.”