Lakota Winds (Zebra Historical Romance) (36 page)

They reasoned that the awesome storm would keep all Whites and
the Indians who camped nearby inside their dwellings either until it
passed or until morning. They had watched the post's grazing animals
being gathered and herded into the lofty enclosure. They had seen both
gates being closed and assumed they were barred afterward for protection.
They saw extensive and prolonged lightning bolts separate into several
branches which split into smaller limbs. Thunder rumbled almost continuously, reminding them of war drums beating.

At last, Wind Dancer crowded them together to give his orders. "We
must go while they are held captive by the storm," he said. "We will
take my horse to carry our raid goods, for he is well trained and obeys me in all times. Dewdrops, you will stay here and guard the others or
the fury of the sky spirits might frighten them away. We cannot stake
them to Mother Earth, for her face is too soft from rain to grip them
tightly enough. If we fail to return before the moon sleeps, go to our
camp and tell our people all that happened here. Do not try to rescue
us if we are taken captive or avenge us if we are slain, for it is certain
death to do so."

A surprised Chumani asked, "Why must I be the one to stay?"

Wind Dancer grasped her slick hands in his. "I do not choose you
to remain here because I love you and fear for your safety or doubt
your skills. You are the Vision Woman, so you must live to continue
our sacred quest if I cannot do so. If both of the vision leaders are lost,
our people may lose hope and will not know how to walk our path to
victory. And our horses need comfort and protection. Zitkala is larger
and stronger and must help us with our task, as are Red Feather and
War Eagle. My words are hard to accept, mitawin, but they are wise
and true."

"That is so, mihigna. I will obey," she said as her gaze locked on his.

Wind Dancer smiled, pleased by her quick compliance. "Do not
worry, micante, for we will return soon and leave this evil place together."

"That is so, mihigna. " Chumani turned to the small group. "Be
careful," she said to them and each nodded to her. She wanted to
embrace her husband and best friend, but reasoned that might appear
as if she doubted their chance of survival. Yet, as she watched the four
vanish into an impenetrable deluge, she was all too cognizant of the
grim possibility she may have seen them for a last time.

At a prechosen site on the bank, Wind Dancer and Red Featherclad in breechclouts and barefooted-slipped into the swift and muddy
Mnisose to swim toward two keelboats which were tied up at the post's
landing. Enormous strength and stamina were required to battle the
river's awesome currents and intense concentration needed to evade
branches and logs that were bobbing furiously on or just below its
choppy surface. It was even more perilous when they hastily ducked beneath the water whenever lightning illuminated the area to prevent
being seen by an enemy, a few times almost ascending in the perilous
path of a large limb.

Much earlier, they had seen twelve keelmen-six per boat-hurriedly
setting up tents to escape the storm's impending fury, that encampment
situated a short distance away on higher and harder ground. With the
aid of a dazzling lightning display, they had sighted two men on the
front boat who were crouched beneath a canvas shelter. They had
suspected guards might be left aboard, so they had approached their
first goal with great caution.

After reaching it, the two Oglala warriors heaved slick and chilled
bodies over its side where eight men sometimes sat on benches to row
the boat downstream and a sighter stood at all times to watch for
hazards. Wind Dancer and Red Feather concealed themselves behind
a large oblong wooden structure in its center, certain their movements
went unnoticed on a steadily undulating boat. They exchanged hand
signals as they made an assault plan. Using the plankways where four
men walked back and forth on each side as they poled the craft upriver,
Wind Dancer sneaked along the right one and Red Feather crept along
the left, the storage area separating them.

They struck simultaneously and caught the white men by surprise,
rendering them unconscious before they could shout for help or defend
themselves. Wind Dancer and Red Feather only bound and gagged
their helpless prey, as there was no honor in or coup to be earned from
killing men who did not linger in their land. They made their way to
the second boat, but there were no men standing guard there; they
thought that was strange since the load to be sold upriver at other
trading posts was said to be valuable, if the two women had overheard
two keelmen's talk correctly. They assumed no one was in the wooden
room because there were no windows and its three doors were locked
from the outside. The men considered it fortunate that the entryways
were located on the structure's side away from the riverbank, as it would
obscure their presence and actions from enemy eyes.

Wind Dancer waited until the thunder quieted before he sent forth a series of bird calls to summon War Eagle and Zitkala to join them.
Then the four of them gathered on the far side of the keelboat. Wind
Dancer took the Crow hatchet from War Eagle to chop away the storage
room's three locks, timing each thud to be muffled by thunder which
growled like an angry grizzly. They opened the doors and looked inside.
When lightning flashed to illuminate the area, they found stacks of
oblong crates, large barrels and small kegs, so many that no space had
been left for the keelmen to sleep aboard out of the rain.

Wind Dancer used the hatchet to pry off a crate top. He lifted out
a long weapon and said, "They are filled with firesticks as Dewdrops
and Zitkala learned at the post. We must push the wasicun's weapons
into the river. The water spirits will destroy them so they cannot be
used to attack us and our allies or be used to slay the Creator's buffalo
and other creatures."

Wind Dancer told them they could not use a torch or lantern, as
the glow of either might be sighted from the rivermen's camp. More
important, gunpowder was dangerous and deadly. He reminded them
that black powder fed the long and short firesticks, the swift spitting
howitzer, and the powerful cannon.

The four set to work easing unsealed heavy crates of arms and opened
barrels of gunpowder into the greedy currents which either gobbled
them up immediately or sent them floating along until they filled
with water and sank. Although the storm's violent attack on the area
continued, they did not shove the load overboard recklessly and risk
creating noisy splashes or scrapes against the boat's surface. They moved
gingerly on the slick deck, relieved their moccasins gripped it sufficiently
to prevent accidents. As they labored, all they could do was pray that
the lightning would not strike them, which could be fatal. Rain gushed
over them and dripped from their garments. They yearned for dry
clothes and footwear, a warm blanket, a cozy tepee and fire, and a hot
drink made from refreshing herbs gathered on the Plains. Their muscles
ached from their constant exertions, yet they knew what they were doing
was important, so they refused to halt until they either finished or were
forced to flee the scene.

After they emptied one keelboat, they rushed to the second to do
the same. As so much time had passed during their previous task, Wind
Dancer assigned Zitkala to watch for any approaching threat. Without
her, it required longer for them to dump that load; and they were aware
of the gradually vanishing night and slowly subsiding storm, along with
the fact they were afoot and had a long way to retreat across ground
with little to conceal them and the horse. They saved one small keg of
gunpowder, a few weapons, and some of the supplies to use during
future raids on the Crow.

While War Eagle, Zitkala, and Red Feather hauled those items to
the lone packhorse and secured them in place, Wind Dancer lingered
to plant possessions they had taken from Four Wolves and his small band
in places where the traders would find them and hold the Apsaalooke to
blame for this daring and destructive deed. Chaheechopes's bow and
another's quiver-since Four Wolves's wanju had not been recovered
from the Spirit Dog's cunning theft-were placed near the stillunconscious guards as if those weapons had been forgotten or left behind
in a rush to escape. He placed the Crow hatchet atop the other boat's
center structure, then hurried to join his companions behind dense
scrub brush. With their bold deed completed, they knew that all they
had to do was get away without encountering trouble.

Chumani waited in mounting dread and suspense. She knew the raid
would take a long time, but she thought they should have returned by
now. The weather had worsened after their departure, though it appeared
to be improving as the night slipped away. She worried they had gotten
captured or been injured, and struggled against the thought of a worse
fate. She had heard many booming sounds but was certain it was only
thunder, not the noise of the wasicun's weapon. She was sure they could
find their way to and from the locations even blindfolded, so they could
not have gotten lost. Yet, they had gone afoot and near weaponless.
She knew she could not bear it if anything dire had happened to her
beloved husband and her best friend, and she would grieve over the
losses of War Eagle and Red Feather. How could she, Chumani fretted, carry on with daily life and with the visionquest without them? Surely
the Great Spirit would not demand such horrible sacrifices from them,
from her, in order to obtain peace and survival for their people.

More time passed, and her tension grew. The violent lightning and
crashing thunder decreased, and gradually the rain slowed its pounding
force and ominous clouds dispersed. A half-moon peeked from behind
them, yet its light was not enough for her to locate her loved ones at
the river.

She knew she could not stay where she was to greet the morning sun
and what it brought with it. Besides the discovery of her companions'
daring deed and the ensuing uproar over it and search of the surrounding
area for those responsible, Bert was sure to send his men after her for
the horses and trade goods. She had to confront and accept the bitter
truth: if they were alive and unharmed, they would have returned by
now. With the moon in occasional view, she could not lie and say she
did not know it had reached the location in the sky where her husband
had told her to leave; and she had promised to obey him.

With clothes and hair soaked and her spirits low, Chumani descended
the almost slippery hillside after scanning the area one last time. She
gathered their possessions and loaded them. She had never imagined
she would be making the return ride alone. She told herself she must
not lose faith and hope; she must believe they would catch up with her
soon, even though she had their horses and weapons. She mounted,
grasped the other four horses' tethers, and headed toward the Sica River
to follow its bank toward their summer camp.

As she journeyed over the rolling landscape, the gentle rain halted.
The storm was gone, and would not conceal her departure tracks. The
wind still blew forcefully, but the air warmed steadily. The sky cleared
and brightened as dawn approached from her rear; now she would be
visible from a distance until she reached concealing trees. Yet, she knew
she was leaving a trail even a small boy could follow. She kept her
weapons ready to use, as she was certain they would be needed when
the post trader's men eventually pursued her.

Every few minutes, Chumani glanced over her shoulder to see if Zeb and the other man were galloping up behind her, and sighed in relief
each time the terrain was clear of attackers. Then, without warning and
close upon relief, came the dreaded; she sighted two riders-white
men-galloping in her direction. She urged her horse onward at a
swifter pace and pulled on the other four's tethers to coax them closer
and faster. If she could make it to a section of trees and scrubs not far
away and dismount before they reached her, she knew she had a better
chance to defend herself. She almost did not care if they stole the
packhorse and trade goods, but she did not want them to take the horses
and weapons of War Eagle, Zitkala, and Red Feather, and especially not
the possessions of Wind Dancer.

Chumani glanced over her shoulder again and realized the men were
gaining on her fast. As her destination drew nearer, she was certain she
could reach it before they closed the gap between them. As soon as the
horses' thongs were secured and her husband's weapons were protected,
she would give the two enemies a surprise they would never forget, for
they would not expect an attack or ever imagine her to be so skilled
with a bow and arrows.

She rode into the trees to use them as shields for herself and the
winded animals. She bounded from her horse and tied all leashes to
sturdy bushes. She grabbed her bow and quiver and darted behind a
cottonwood where she jabbed the sharp tips of several arrows into the
rain-softened ground, readying them for hasty retrieval. She made a
daring plan of attack as she nocked the first chokecherry shaft. She
knew she had to shoot fast and accurately once she showed herself and
before they could take aim and fire their weapons. At least there were
only two of them. She heard them approach and halt several tepees'
length from her. She stayed still and quiet and listened to their offensive
words.

"Come on out, woman, 'cause you cain't git away from us!"

Zeb laughed. "You're wasting your breath, Harry, 'cause she don't
speak no English. Keep alert, man, 'cause she might try to jump us. I
don't plan on getting bit, scratched, or stuck with no rusty knife today."

"You said she was a real looker, Zeb, so I'd like a piece of her afore we slit her throat. You know we can't leave her alive to go a tattling to
her people about us stealing her horses and goods. You said there wuz
two of 'em, so where's the other one? And where did she git more
horses?"