Song Of The Warrior (25 page)

At last, Willow choked on tears and could not continue. She paused and handed the book to Raven. “Raven, read the ending, please.”

He hesitated as he took the treasured book. Over the last several weeks, he had begun to read well as if it were something he needed to accomplish to deal with the whites. Now he read the last paragraphs slowly but with feeling, describing how the crowd yelled for blood while Sydney Carton walked up the scaffold to be executed in another man's place and said, “. . . it is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done. It is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.”

Very slowly, he closed the book. In the silence, a bird called somewhere in the hot August afternoon.

Atsi blinked. “This man was a great and a brave warrior,” she said gravely and the other children nodded agreement. “He died so that the other man might live because the girl loved the other man so, and he knew it.”

Willow was too moved to speak, remembering Bear. She swallowed hard.

Raven seemed to realize her anguish. “Children,” he said, “I think your teacher is tired; that's all for today.”

They scattered with a glad cry. Raven leaned over, put the book down, took Cub from her arms, and laid him gently in the shade of a bush. “It is a very fine story,” he said, “that a man would love a woman so much, he would sacrifice his life for her happiness.”

For just a moment, she buried her face in her hands. She hadn't been feeling well the last day or two. There was so little food and not much time to hunt or fish with the soldiers always on their trail.

He sat next to her, reached out, drew her to lean against his broad shoulder. “I know; I miss him, too.”

In all these weeks, since that one time, Raven had not touched her, now he patted her like a big brother; offering comfort.

“Oh, Raven, how will it all end?”

“I don't know; only the soldiers know,” he said grimly. “We would be content to survive in this place called Montana if they would leave us in peace.” “I don't think they will do that and we've traveled so far already.”

He nodded and didn't speak. He seemed to be only half listening and Willow knew that as a warrior, his thoughts were already on tomorrow and the tribe's safety. “If they won't leave us in peace, maybe we will head north toward Canada.”

“But we turned south to avoid the soldiers, we're many miles farther now from the border, and there's so many wounded.”

“Yes.” He patted her absently as if comforting a child and she was abruptly ashamed. There was so much pain and suffering around her, and she knew Raven saw to it that if there was food, she got a little of it.

“I shouldn't complain,” she said. “I don't know why I'm so emotional; and get upset over little things when others are in worse shape. It just seems so pointless to teach children to read when the soldiers may soon kill them all.”

“I do what I can for you, Willow, as Bear would have wanted.”

“I know that; I suppose I'm losing hope that the Nez Perce have any future. We're such a long way from Canada; getting there is impossible.”

Raven shrugged. “They said it was impossible for us to cross the Lolo Trail with all these old people and children, but we made it.” He tilted her chin up with one finger and looked into her eyes. “Remember the Nez Perce are special; we are created from a heart's blood. If it can be done, we will do it.”

She saw the unspoken love in his handsome face, but he had never voiced his feelings since that desperate night he had spent in her arms. “You're right, Raven. These people are brave; you are brave. You've shown it in a hundred ways in the past few weeks and become a respected warrior; Bear would have been proud of you.”

“Are you—are you proud of me, Willow?”

“You know I am.”

He hesitated, took his hand away, looked off at the distant horizon and she knew he was remembering how Bear had stayed behind, died to save them both. “If we make it to Canada,” he whispered, “there is something then I will ask you. I know you will never love me as you loved Bear, but . . .”

The pause sounded heavy in the silence. She knew what he wanted to ask and she didn't even want to think about it right now. Life must go on somehow. But with Bear dead, she felt dead inside, too. She loved Raven, but she wasn't certain she could ever love him as he loved her and it wasn't fair; but then, life wasn't fair. “Let us not talk about this until we finally reach a place of refuge,” she said quickly and stood up.

He smiled, hope in his eyes. “That means you'll think about it?”

“Of course. I think Bear would want us to be together. The old grandmother won't last forever, and someone will have to raise Cub and Atsi.”

“You have given me something to believe in, something to fight for,” he said and squared his shoulders. “Thank you, Willow.”

She nodded and picked up her beloved book. She didn't even want to think about becoming Raven's woman, but it was as Bear would have wished and it was still sometime in the future . . . if they were lucky enough to have a future. She would think no further than tomorrow. Willow gestured to the sleeping toddler. “Will you bring him?”

Raven grinned, swung the baby up in his strong arms and followed her. “We will raise him,” he said, “and someday, we will have our own son and name him for my brother.”

Bear. She swallowed hard and didn't look at Raven as she walked.
Name him for my brother.
Yes, it was right that they remember the one who had died so that they might escape. She would become Raven's woman and he need never know that each time he took her in his arms, she would try not to close her eyes and think of Bear.

 

 

Dawn, August 9. Willow came awake and yawned just before the gray of early light turned into the pink of sunrise. The dew still glittered like diamonds across the prairie grass of this camp the Nez Perce called
Its-koom-tse-le-lick Pa,
Place of the Ground Squirrels, where the Trail and Ruby Creeks joined.

She sat up and smiled for the first time in a long time. Even though they had lost most of their lodges and food was short, the past several days had been quiet, so much so, that last night, the tribe had celebrated late, dancing and singing. As a result, almost everyone was still asleep. Maybe, Willow thought, just maybe, the whites might let the tribe live in peace now that the Nez Perce had left the disputed Idaho country for Montana.

Perhaps she could stir around without disturbing anyone. Certainly the whole tribe needed rest and food, the chance to take care of its sick and wounded without having to move the camp for a few days. A bird sang to welcome the new day. She stood up and stretched, her gaze following an elderly man walking across the creek and into the woods beyond to check on the horse herd that grazed past the trees.

And then hell erupted. Shots rang out and the old man fell. Before she could move or even wonder, noise and shouts rolled across the quiet landscape. She stood frozen in horrified realization as the thunder built and she heard before she saw the charging cavalry like a tidal wave of blue coming through the trees and across the creek.

“Soldiers!” she screamed and dashed through the camp. “Hurry, everyone! Soldiers coming!”

Already the crack of rifle fire and the yells of charging men, the thunder of galloping horses, broke the stillness. Now people screamed, babies cried, men shouted as the people came awake, not certain what was happening, what to do. They jumped to their feet, milling in confusion. She paused; someone was shouting her name.

“Willow, this way!” Raven grabbed her and threw her up on a horse as he reached for his rifle. “Lead the women out of here!”

The horse reared, frightened by the noise and shrieks. Women and children were running in circles as the rifles cracked, not sure what was happening, which way to flee. Little Atsi ran toward her, dragging the toddler. Her plump face was etched in terror, the small boy screamed with fright.

“Here,” Willow shouted, “take my horse!” She slid off, held onto the bridle while Atsi swung up barebacked. Willow hugged little Cub to her just a moment. “Hush,” she whispered, “you'll be all right.” She handed him up to the young girl, slapped the horse on the rump, and ran it out of the camp. Around her, other women were catching horses, attempting to flee as Raven rallied the men into a defense line.

Willow ran to Raven's side and handed him another rifle. He paused, glanced over at her. “I sent you out!”

“I know, but I'm needed here!” She took the rifle from his hands and reloaded it as they crouched behind a log. “I gave Atsi my horse.”

He grinned in admiration and took the gun. “You are truly a Nez Perce woman after all.”

“Did you ever doubt it?” She looked toward the cavalry charging into the camp now.

“Bear would have been proud of you,” Raven said as he aimed and fired, taking a Bannock scout from his galloping paint horse.

“Of his little brother, too,” Willow said.

He looked at her, blinked and swallowed hard, then returned to firing at the invaders.

Around them, acrid gun smoke swirled. Her ears rang with shouts and screams and gunfire. The Nez Perce warriors were rallying under the able leadership of Looking Glass and Ollokot, backed up by brave warriors like Raven who were prepared to sell their lives dearly. Riderless Appaloosa horses galloped past, rolling their white eyes in terror. People ran and screamed. Over the roar, blue-clad officers shouted orders.

It was like some kind of nightmare, Willow thought as she crouched behind the log with Raven, coolly reloading for him as he aimed and fired. The cavalry charged through the creek, water flying, met a line of deadly gunfire from the Nez Perce marksmen, faltered and retreated, leaving dead and wounded soldiers moaning and jerking in the water. Around her, people crumpled, fell and died. Now besides the scent of gunpowder, the smell of blood hung heavy in the coming dawn that was almost as pink as the water that swirled in eddies around the dying men who lay in the creek.

She glanced over at Raven. There was no sign of fear in his handsome face, only grim determination. If he were going to be killed, he was facing it as the bravest of warriors would. Bear's faith in him had finally been justified, she thought with quiet pride. Raven wasn't retreating, his set face told her he would die in this spot to protect the retreat of the women and children. Somehow in the past few weeks, the boy had grown into a man; no, more than a man; a respected Nez Perce warrior.

She voiced her thoughts aloud over the sporadic gunfire that echoed though the hills as she put her hand on his arm. “If we don't live to see nightfall, I want you to know how proud I am of you.”

He glanced sideways at her as he reloaded, then grinned to cover the awkward moment, “Hey, I'm not ready to sing a warrior's song yet; I have something worth fighting for.”

She knew from the way he looked at her how much he loved her. Her heart swelled and she blinked hard. He wasn't Bear, but maybe they could make some kind of life together if they survived this long ordeal.

Many Indians had been shot down or clubbed as they came awake in the first surprise attack and there was hand-to-hand fighting, but the determined warriors had stalled the advance. Willow saw an officer fall and now the leaderless soldiers gravitated toward the center of the camp as the warriors came at them from both sides. The soldiers had managed to set fire to the few tipis that the tribe still possessed. Now as the sun rose, the determined braves took the offensive and began picking off the confused and leaderless men. The Nez Perce who had galloped away in a panic returned to attack the soldiers dug in among the burning tipis.

Willow saw several officers fall and then the older man wearing colonel's insignia cried out; grabbed his thighs as a shot hit him. He signaled his bugler to sound retreat and the disorganized soldiers fled. They were retreating in a disorganized panic, dragging their wounded with them, attempting to set up a defense line behind logs and rocks across the creek. The warriors shouted in triumph and pressed the attack, on the offensive now as they attacked the soldiers' hastily thrown-up defense.

As Raven ran across the creek to continue the attack, Willow paused and looked around at the burning Indian camp. Tipis and supplies blazed, riderless horses galloped through, dogs barked. The slain lay everywhere and the wounded were crying for water. Women screamed as they walked among the dead, then fell to their knees in grief as they found a loved one among the burning wreckage.

Willow felt numb as she hurried to help. Women, children, and old people lay slain in the wrecked camp, but also important warriors, including
Wahchumyus, Wahlitits,
and the important Paloose leader,
Hahtalekin.
When
Sarpsis Il-pihlp
heard that his cousin and close friend,
Wahlitit,
had been killed,
Sarpsis
fulfilled his vow that the two would die on the same day by riding recklessly back into the battle and so was killed, too.

Many others were wounded, including the wives of Joseph and Ollokot. There was no time to grieve, Willow realized. While the warriors kept the soldiers pinned down, Joseph instructed the people in hastily digging shallow graves for the dead, and then hurried his people in a retreat to the south. White Bird helped him lead the people out. Important war leaders like Ollokot and Looking Glass stayed behind to fight.

Atsi had returned for her and Willow found the old grandmother, too. Willow breathed a sigh of relief as she realized her little adopted family was not hurt. With a few possessions thrown on the travois, they joined the column of wailing, weeping women hurrying south. Willow blinked away the tears and looked behind her. Raven was among those brave ones holding the soldiers at bay. Some of those singing their warriors songs would not live to see the sunset, she knew, but it must be done. A Nez Perce warrior would gladly sacrifice his life to save his people.