Blood Feather (8 page)

Thirty yards off, Claw Marks dropped off his war pony and tied a long rawhide thong to his leg. He tied the other end of the twenty-foot leather thong to a stake, jammed it into the ground, and pounded it down with a nearby rock.

Claw Marks faced the Crow, a challenging grin on his face, and raising his rifle into the air with one hand and his war club with the other, he yelled, “
Hokahey!
”

They knew he was going nowhere and would fight to the death, taking as many as he could with him. They yelled back, more in admiration for his raw courage than to taunt a warrior. They agreed they would ride him down, and each warrior wanted to count coup on this mighty enemy, touching him without killing him with a coup stick, bow, or rifle. They charged, screaming and yelling, and he raised his rifle, taking careful aim—and bodies started falling. The group rode down upon him, and he swung his rifle one way and the other and broke the stock over the face of the largest Crow. Then he started swinging his war club, as he felt stab wounds and strikes hitting his body all over. His scalp was a great reward for the hardest fighting of the Crows, who finally struck the fatal blow against him. Near
Siostukala
's, or Claw Marks's, body eight Crow bodies also lay on the grass by the shallow sand– and rock-bottomed Little Big Horn, and several more moaned and groaned with wounds.

The two elderly warriors wanted to help the courageous young man, but they knew they must lie back and wait, buying more time for their extended family members. They knew that they, too, would make the great walk this day. Inspired by his ferocious fighting and tremendous courage, they, too, held the Crows off for another hour, giving the tribal remnants plenty of time to hide in Badger Coulee.

After they had hidden far down the river valley, Joshua's young half brother crept through the tall waving buffalo grass high on a ridge that would be traveled years later by Custer and his men. He found a vantage point and actually watched the heroic death of his father. With no other warriors or tribal members around, he cried. But then he returned to the others. He was bursting with pride at the incredible courage of his father and vowed then to never tarnish such a family legacy.

When he had heard all this a year earlier, Joshua had felt like he could easily cry, wishing he would have known his father. After his stepfather died and his mother gave him the man's gun and knife, which he had gotten from the man who was now Joshua's new friend, Chris Colt—only then did she reveal to him about her relationship with Claw Marks. When his name was mentioned, she did not cry out of bad memory, as Joshua had always assumed, but out of pure love loss.

Strongheart thought about how much his own story reminded him of Quanah Parker's, and he really did not blame the chief for wanting to fight on to try to stop the slaughter of the buffalo, the life-giver of the Comanche, Lakota, Cheyenne, Arapaho, and other Plains tribes. He felt like he, too, probably would have kept fighting given the same situation and set of circumstances.

The two men retrieved their deer and returned to the lodges of the Quahadi. Once there, both of them went to some women tanning hides and lay the bucks down before them. The women seemed very grateful, and several made eyes at Strongheart.

As they walked away, Strongheart said, “You have been a good host, Chief. I will pass your words to my boss, and the Pinkertons will pass them back to Washington.”

Quanah Parker grinned. “And those in Washington will then pass my words on to somebody who will send even more buffalo hunters.”

Strongheart said, “I reckon they will.”

Quanah grinned again, saying, “The Americans are like the weeds that grow in the prairie grass. They spoil the land but keep coming. But when they fight the Quahadi, it will be a remembered fight. Then, someday, if I smoke the pipe with the Americans, I will learn how to become a great chief among them.”

Strongheart said, “Dan, my pa, the white man who married my ma and raised me, used to say that the best revenge in the world is success.”

Quanah grinned again, saying, “That might be better than shooting the Americans. Instead of scalps I will collect their dollars.”

Strongheart grinned also, saying, “Quanah Parker, I believe you will, if you decide to come to the white man's world someday.”

He was serious, too. This chief really impressed Joshua. He was wise, savvy, and very intelligent. He knew that, like himself, the man had something to prove. As Strongheart had said, the best revenge in the world is success. Joshua lived his life that way, because he had been sometimes called and oft-times simply treated or viewed as a half-breed, in the ugliest connotation of that word.

6

Men of Two Worlds

Within the hour, Joshua was packed up and headed back toward the mountains far to the west. Maybe it was because he grew up in central Montana. Maybe it was because of Cañon City and its environs, but although his people on the red side of his ancestry were called Plains Indians, Strongheart had become a man of the mountains, and he missed them when he was away. He liked the prairie and the desert, but he really loved the mountains. Joshua once told Annabelle that he preferred land that had personality, and the mountains gave land plenty of personality.

Although he was not pleased with Quanah Parker's answer, he'd left there with good feelings about his visit and about the Comanche leader. He had heard that Quanah Parker was aloof and hard to get to know, but Joshua had not felt that at all. The man did not seem guarded with him, probably because they were so much alike in so many ways.

We Wiyake
was ready to make a kill again. It was time to take a
wasicun
.
He had a new challenge too. Joshua Strongheart would be a tough adversary compared to all the others, but eating his heart would give Blood Feather more strength and stronger medicine than he had gotten from any other prey.

He had passed near Cañon City but was now in an area called High Park, north and west of the town and southwest of Pikes Peak. The terrain was rolling hills and valleys covered with large growth evergreens as well as piñons and cedars. The area had an abundance of grizzly bears, elk, mule deer, turkeys, and mountain lions, but very few people. The miners would come in droves, but not for a number of years. Now there were fur trappers, Ute Indians, and a few large ranches.

Blood Feather decided to get closer to civilization, as it was in his twisted mind to select only certain victims. There had to be something about them that would make him desire taking from their spirit. Usually, that trait was only the subconscious sense that he could intimidate them, but he also liked to challenge himself in some ways. Hence his desire to pit himself against Joshua Strongheart.

That is when the idea struck him. He would locate Strongheart's actual area, his place of living. He would find someone close to Strongheart and kill that person, or even better he would kidnap someone. He would make the half-breed pursue him.

Joshua went to Fort Union first and found that General Phillip Sheridan was there, as well as several colonels. They wanted a briefing, Joshua was told. First, he would prepare his report for Lucky and then he would use that to brief the general.

There was a billiard hall at Fort Union, adobe but covered with red bricks. This was where the men congregated when they could manage a little time off. Joshua Strongheart, a year earlier, had gotten addicted to a new drink, iced tea. He could not drink alcohol because the Lakota blood he carried betrayed his system. He would become a monster if he drank.

Bellying up to the bar, he said, “Howdy, do you have a new drink called iced tea, by any chance?”

The bartender had a pleasant smile and a long handlebar mustache, a white shirt and red sleeve garters.

“Right ya are, laddie,” he said with a thick Scottish accent, “and a tasty drink it is. Ya want sugarrr with that, sirrr?”

“Plenty,” Joshua responded with a smile.

The bartender chipped some ice with a pick, filled a frosted glass with tea, and added several spoonfuls of sugar.

Strongheart enjoyed the cold drink and spotted a large group of boisterous drinking soldiers around the several billiard tables. He noticed Chris Colt having words with several men. A black-skinned cowboy stood next to Chris. Strongheart sensed trouble brewing.

“I say that you cheated me, Scout!” Joshua heard a burly man saying with a strong Southern accent as he walked up.

Strongheart saw a man in an oversized, rumpled tunic with corporal stripes, and he had four men around him who seemed to be friends. They all looked like they were ready to jump on Colt if the leader started swinging at Chris. Joshua thought quickly, trying to figure out a way to defuse the situation so he and his new friend did not have a big fight on their hands.

The bruiser looked like he was ready to let go with a balled up ham-sized fist, and Joshua stepped forward holding his hands up.

“Wait a minute, boys!” Strongheart said. “Don't start fighting just yet. We need a strength test first.”

The behemoth said, “Well I shore as hell aint havin' no durn blanket nigger tellin' me what ta do. Y'all heah him?”

Strongheart seethed inside but instead smiled and said, “Now, that's not the right attitude. Most men who want to toe the line around here do the strength test first, unless you are both too yellow to try it.”

Chris Colt grinned, knowing Strongheart was trying to defuse things somehow, without having the slightest clue how he was doing it.

He said, “I'm not yellow, mister. I'll do it, I'll go first.”

Joshua was glad Chris said that, as he needed him to go first.

The giant bully roared, “I ain't no lily-liver. Ef he is a doing it, ah'll do it, too. Ah'll do it better.”

Joshua ran to the corner and got the bucket of wash water for the floor and carried it over to the crowd.

He said, “Back up, boys,” and all the soldiers moved back.

Strongheart set a chair between two billiard tables, then looked at Chris and said, “Grab that cue stick there, mister, and stand on this chair.”

Colt complied, and then Strongheart climbed up on one of the tables holding the wooden bucket of mop water.

He yelled, “Now, I need all of you except these two to go outside a few minutes.”

Nobody could figure out what he was doing, but like sheep they filed out, holding beers mugs and cigars.

Strongheart raised the bucket overhead and pushed the rim against the ceiling.

He said to Colt, “Now, sir, push the end of that billiard cue up against the center of the bucket and hold the bucket tight against the ceiling.”

Colt complied and Joshua counted slowly to ten. He then reached up and took hold of the bucket, carefully lowering it so it would not spill.

The bully thought to himself,
I can hold it a lot longer than that
.

Strongheart said, “Okay, mister, it's your turn. He passed. Let's see if you can.”

“Hale yes, I kin,” the big bruiser said, climbing up on the chair.

He sneered at Colt as the handsome scout handed the cue stick to him. Strongheart pushed the big bucket up against the ceiling and held it there until the big man pushed the stick up in the center and held the bucket hard against the ceiling himself. The hillbilly had not realized it would be that heavy to hold that way, but he knew he could certainly hold it a lot longer than the scout did.

Strongheart said, “Okay, are you ready?”

The heavy said, “Yeah, boy, ah'm ready.”

Joshua hopped down off the table and grabbed Colt by the upper arm, leading him toward the door. The bully suddenly knew what was happening. He had to hold the bucket against the ceiling or be drenched with a bucket of dirty wash water.

“Hey, where the hell ya goin'? Come back here!” the monster yelled, while Colt and Strongheart went out the door laughing.

Outside, the assembled men looked at them coming out the door, and Strongheart said, “Your partner sure beat the scout here good. He is still winning and wants you to wait until he is done.”

Several shrugged their shoulders, and Chris and Joshua walked away chuckling to themselves.

“Boy is he going to be angry now,” Colt laughed.

Strongheart said, “But hopefully by the time we see him again, he will be sobered up.”

Colt said, “I hope so. I really don't want to fight soldiers I am working with. That was quick thinking on your part. I'll have to use that trick again sometime.”

The two men went to the quartermaster depot.

Dutch wore his ever-present smile and said, “Mr. Strongheart it is, and the Comanches have not lifted yer scalp, I see.”

“Howdy, Dutch,” Strongheart replied. “Some tried, but Chris Colt stopped them short. Do you happen to have a room where I can prepare a briefing? Have to brief the general in the morning and send a report to my boss.”

“Aye,” Dutch replied. “Go inta the office in the corner yonder. Ye'll find pen and ink, pencils, and paper. Help yourself, youngster, and old Colt and me will tell each other lies.”

It took Strongheart two hours before he emerged with his report made out and briefing prepared.

“Come on. Let me buy you guys dinner,” he said.

Chris said, “Sounds good. My belly is rubbing a blister on my backbone.”

Dutch said, “Ah, you lads go eat. I have ta do inventory.”

The pair left and headed toward a small saloon that served food. Five shadows appeared suddenly out of the darkness, and three were carrying what looked like axe handles. They waded into Chris Colt and Joshua Strongheart, and the two men instinctively dashed for the door, wanting to take the fight into the light, where they could see. Inside, Chris's right eye was swelling shut from a blow, and Joshua's left eye was swelling shut from the same.

Strongheart said, “Why don't we make this fight a little more even?”

He drew and fired, hitting one of the axe handles near the man's hand and shattering it. Almost immediately, Joshua heard Chris's gun boom next to him, and another axe handle splintered. Then both men fanned their Colt .45 Peacemakers and the third axe handle exploded.

The biggest man swung at Chris Colt, who ducked under it, and the big man was met by a thundering right hook from Strongheart, shattering his jaw. Colt hit the man closest to him with a head-butt tackle, sending him crashing over the bar. Joshua faced another tall man and suddenly pointed at the man's foot. The man looked down and Strongheart caught him with a vicious uppercut, lifting him off his feet and onto a table, which crashed over backward with him and several glasses and bottles. Colt and Joshua both hit the next man simultaneously, one with a thundering overhand right and the other with powerful left hook. The eyes of the last one looked like those of a small deer facing a family of mountain lions, as he gawked at Joshua Strongheart standing before him. He turned to run and was immediately tripped by Chris Colt, who hit him with a downward right as he fell forward. He was out cold when his face hit the floor.

Chris and Joshua looked at each other and the fallen men and started chuckling, both subconsciously touching their blackened eyes. They ordered steaks, and Colt had a beer, while Strongheart drank coffee. The defeated bullies each slowly left the room sheepishly as they awakened individually, while the two men spoke with each other and ignored them.

Strongheart said, “Tomorrow I have to brief General Sheridan. He is famous for the Civil War and his friendship with Grant, but I want to know from you what to expect.”

Chris Colt started chuckling and Joshua said, “What's funny, Colt?”

Colt replied, “He will not like you from the get-go, for the same reason he does not like me.”

His curiosity piqued, the Pinkerton asked, “What is that?”

Colt said, “You and I both stand about six-foot-four or so.”

“So why won't he like that?” Joshua said.

Chris laughed and replied, “'Cause he's the very last guy to get snowed or rained on.”

Strongheart laughed, saying, “Short?”

Colt said, “Five-foot-five. You ever hear the famous quote about Sheridan by old Honest Abe?”

“No,” Strongheart said. “What did he say?”

Colt replied, “Abe Lincoln said of General Sheridan, ‘A brown, chunky little chap, with a long body, short legs, not enough neck to hang him, and such long arms that if his ankles itch he can scratch them without stooping.' I heard that several times from several soldiers and laughed every time.”

Joshua was laughing hard himself at the late President's words.

Chris went on to reiterate that Sheridan was indeed just barely five-foot-five.

Another item, which he knew would anger Joshua as much as it angered him, was the fact that Sheridan was one of the prime backers of the program to slaughter the buffalo to defeat the red man. Colt was correct in his assumption. Joshua was very angry when he heard this.

Colt told Strongheart that Sheridan had had a mistress years before, when he was dealing with the Nez Perce, Modoc, and other tribes in the northwest. Her name was
Sidnayoh
, but he called her Frances. She was the daughter of the chief of the Klickitat tribe. Colt did not know it at the time, but she would never be mentioned in Sheridan's memoirs.

The two men went to bed, and Strongheart met the very short general the next morning. Sheridan had sharp creases and nary a spot or a thread showing on his uniform. He had a well-trimmed beard.

Colt showed up for the briefing, and there were a number of staff there as well. Coffee and fresh donuts were served, and a map of the tactical area was placed behind Strongheart.

The briefing did not start off well.

“Why do you and Mr. Colt have black eyes, Mr. Strongheart?” the flag officer asked derisively.

“We got in a fight, General,” Joshua replied.

“With whom?”

Strongheart said, “Was about to tell you, General. You know we tangled with some Comanches before we even got to Quanah Parker's area.”

“Oh,” the general said. “Proceed.”

Strongheart briefed him on the fight with the Comanches. Then he told about meeting with Quanah Parker.

The general interrupted, “Mr. Colt, why didn't you escort him to Quanah Parker's stronghold?”

Colt grinned and said, “Well, sir, Parker did not like the fact that I would not give my word not to divulge his whereabouts.”

The general grinned for the only time that morning.

But then he looked at Strongheart, saying, “So, Mr. Strongheart, did he take you to his stronghold?”

Joshua said, “Yes, he did.”