Wild Splendor (18 page)

Kit Carson looked from one Navaho to the other. “Did your chief release the white captives?” he questioned. “Are they coming down behind you? Where's Sage? Is he also surrendering?”

He became disgruntled when no one offered a response. He could see that they remained loyal to their leader even though they had lost their freedom as they had always known it.

Kit Carson stared up at the high cliff overhead. He no longer saw any Navaho looking down from it. In fact, he saw no activity whatsoever.

Kit shook his head slowly and slipped back into his saddle. He was not going to walk into any of Sage's traps. If he had to, he would camp out at the base of the mountain until Sage and the remainder of his people were starved out.

He regretted that Leonida was among those who were being forced to follow the orders of the powerful Navaho chief. He knew that General Harold Porter would not take this news civilly in the least.

Chapter 22

Keep thee today,
Tomorrow, forever.

—E
MERSON

 

 

Pure Blossom was safely on a travois, wrapped snugly in pelts to keep her from rolling off the traveling apparatus. Horses and mules were loaded down with the personal belongings of the Navaho. Some preferred to walk. Others chose to ride on horseback down the narrow paths. Leonida was on horseback, Runner on the saddle before her, tied to her with a rope that reached around each of their waists.

Tumultuous emotions flooded Leonida as she watched Sage take one last walk through his village while everyone waited for him to give the order to start. She wanted to go to him, to be with him in his time of sorrow, yet it seemed inappropriate at this time. It was a private mourning of sorts for her husband, having to leave his home behind because of the cruel, insensitive plans of white men. At this moment Leonida was ashamed of her heritage. To see such innocence taken away from such a beloved band of Indians tore at her heart. Would it never end? This constant choice of destroying the lives of innocent Indians to make things better for white people?

Her eyes widening, Leonida wondered why Sage had called many of his warriors to his side as he gazed down into the valley below, where occasional belches of smoke still rose from the destroyed crops. Her back stiffened when each of Sage's warriors picked up torches that she had not noticed lying at the edge of the cliff. She gasped as the torches were lit, then tossed down the sides of the mountain, igniting all of the trees and grass that clung to the sides of the mountain, setting them all ablaze. The fires were fanned by the breeze, and a mile-wide line of flames soon swept down the sides of the mountain like a giant scythe.

Sage and his warriors hurried to their horses. Sage mounted his close beside Leonida's. Before they left, she reached to grab his arm. “Why did you set the fire?” she asked, wishing that she could remove the pain in his eyes.

“It is a fire wall of sorts,” Sage said, his voice emotionless. “We will escape behind the cover of the dense smoke that rolls ahead of the flames. Also, it is to give Kit Carson cause to wonder about the fate of our village. It is best to draw him to the village rather than to us. By the time he reaches my stronghold, we will be long gone, safe from the man who was once a friend, now turned tyrant.”

The long, dangerous march down the back side of the mountain began. Leonida kept a close watch on the one side of her, where the sides of the mountain dropped off sharply. She clutched the reins hard, feeling as though she were scarcely breathing. Runner sat stiffly in front of her, his steady gaze on the cliff, his eyes wide as silver dollars.

Sage headed the travelers. Pure Blossom's travois was attached to the horse of a warrior who traveled just behind Leonida. Occasionally, when Leonida felt it was safe, she would cast a worried glance back at Pure Blossom. From this vantage point she could not see her face, to see how she was faring.

Leonida turned her eyes back to the path, smiling. Of late, she had sat at Pure Blossom's bedside, holding her hand, making up one story after another, feeling rewarded for her efforts when Pure Blossom would emit a soft laugh and give one of her warm smiles. Leonida hoped that she could give her the same sort of pleasure for many, many more months.

They moved relentlessly onward, through the tangled brush and occasionally across a wider span of ground, with trees and creeks alongside the path.

Again, then, they traveled on a narrow, slippery, winding path, the air filled with the fragrance of wildflowers that grew strangely from the sides of the mountain, in yellows, reds, and pinks.

As the day began to wane and the air became brisk, they arrived at the base of the mountain, the halfway point of their travels to their final destination.

Sage drew his reins tautly and gazed about him. He knew this land well, for he had studied it many times, charting it out with his mind, in case a speedy escape from his stronghold was required.

He knew where to make camp for the night, where everyone could be safe. It would take only a short while to get there. They could even build a campfire to prepare their evening meal and to give them warmth during the night.

Raising his hand, he gave the silent order to travel onward, to follow his lead. He flashed Leonida a smile over his shoulder, then edged his horse back to ride beside hers. “We will make camp soon,” he said, noticing the weariness in her eyes. “We will be safe. As soon as tomorrow we will be building hogans at our new stronghold.”

He glanced down at Runner, who was fast asleep, turned so that he could cuddle against Leonida's bosom. Seeing the awkwardness of the rope that still bound Runner to Leonida, and seeing no more need of it, Sage leaned over, untied the knot, and jerked the rope over to himself, dropping it into his saddle bag at the side of his horse.

“I'm worried about Pure Blossom,” Leonida said, giving the travois a troubled glance. “I haven't checked on her because Runner fell asleep in my arms. I did not want to awaken him.” She laughed softly, stroking her fingers through his tousled black hair. “If he is as tired as I am, the poor child might even sleep a full week.”

Sage reached a hand to Leonida's cheek and softly caressed it, then fell back to ride alongside the travois. When Pure Blossom gave him an easy smile, everything within him warmed. “My sister, we shall be arriving soon where we can make a safe camp,” he said, returning her smile. “You are well enough?”

“I am weary of being secured to this dreadful travois,” she murmured. “But, yes, my brother, I am well enough.”

Sage flinched somewhat to hear the weakness of his sister's voice, which proved the lie that she was telling her brother to keep him from worrying. He wanted to jump from his horse and gather his sister into his arms.

He was not even sure that she would live long enough to see the paradise of their new village. This time it would not be atop a mountain, where the weather changed from morning to night, from scorching to freezing.

Yes, he was traveling to another mountain to seek refuge, but this time his people would live in its shadows, in a wide, fertile canyon, instead of on it.

There, where he had explored so often, were trees in abundance, for shade and firewood, and mountain-fed streams to water the gardens and his people.

Birds filled the air with their melodies, and flowers spread their heady fragrance far and wide.

The grass was thick and tall, perfect for the sheep and goats that he would one day acquire, even if stealing them was the only way. Whatever his people needed for survival, he would supply, even if he, too, was added to the list of renegades that rode the land at the midnight hour.

Sage's heart pained him when Pure Blossom closed her eyes and fell immediately into a deep sleep. He blinked back tears as he studied her paleness and her gaunt features. She was so frail, it seemed that even a slight breeze might blow her away if she was not secured to the travois. Too soon now, he would be saying his final good-bye to his sister.

Sage nudged his horse with his heels and rode away from her, and even past Leonida. He had sent several sentries on ahead to keep watch, even though he felt it was unnecessary. He had traveled this land many times before, alone, and never had he seen signs of people, red- or white-skinned alike. He had watched the wild animals at play, their footprints the only tracks left in the dirt and along the damp ground beside the streams.

Yes, he felt confident in his decision to bring his people to this land, uncharted, he believed, by anyone but him. It was shrouded by thick trees, and clinging vines ran back and forth across the ground, popping and snapping in two as the horses rode across them. Sage's spine stiffened when he got a faint whiff of smoke. His fingers tightened on his reins and stopped any further advance. He knew that all traces of smoke from the mountain and the valley below it, far away from where Sage and his people were now traveling, should have been left behind long ago. He had not smelled smoke since they had reached the halfway point down the backside of the mountain. And the winds were still as evening fell in deep pools of purple around him.

The smoke was coming from somewhere close by, instead of far, far behind him.

Sage's warriors milled around him just as his scouts came riding toward them. Leonida scarcely breathed, afraid, yet not sure of what. The way Sage was acting, they were no longer alone in this wilderness. And she, too, now smelled the smoke. She also could read the expressions on the scouts' faces and knew that possible trouble lay ahead.

She held Runner closely to her bosom and listened to the conversation between Sage and the scouts, frustrated when they sometimes used more Navaho language than her own.

But she heard enough to know that intruders were near, and not just anyone—Chief Four Fingers.

“Chief Four Fingers abandoned camp just as we spied him through the trees ahead of us,” Spotted Feather said, his eyes wild. “They did not see us. They rode off in the opposite direction.”

A feeling of hopelessness swam through Sage, dashing his hopes of finding shelter for his people after all. If Four Fingers was making camp close by, it surely meant that he had also traveled on land that until now Sage had thought was a paradise in its secrecy.

“And so the Kiowa stand in the way of our peace again,” he mumbled, looking up at his scouts.

“We did not pursue Four Fingers,” Black Thunder said in a tone of apology. “We were too few in number.”

Spotted Feather intervened. “And we did not think it wise to draw attention to ourselves, with our people only a short distance behind us,” he said. “It is imperative to keep our people safe, even at the cost of allowing Four Fingers to escape again.”

“And you were right,” Sage mumbled. He glanced over his shoulder at the anxious faces, not only of his people but of the white captives as well. He was beginning to regret ever having taken hostages. He must discard the captive women and children at the first opportunity.

He looked slowly around, into the stretches of trees ahead of him. For now, he must find a safe refuge for everyone, so that he could be free to go and search for Four Fingers one last time. If the Kiowa was near, he could destroy all of the Navaho's future.

“What must we do?” Spotted Feather asked wearily.

“We will get our people comfortably safe and then we will go and search out Four Fingers . . . and kill him,” Sage said in a low growl.

When he heard a low gasp behind him, he turned and met Leonida's frightened stare. She knew the dangers in going against Chief Four Fingers and his Kiowa warriors at this time. If Sage and his warriors were overtaken in a surprise ambush by the Kiowa,
then
what of the future of the Navaho?

But he saw no other way than to take the gamble. No one but the Navaho could ever be allowed to know of this special place that Sage was taking his people to. It troubled him that perhaps Chief Four Fingers already knew. There was no recourse except to silence the Kiowa chieftain once and for all.

Putting Leonida's fear out of his mind, Sage motioned to his people to follow him again as he led his stallion at a soft trot into the beckoning, purple twilight of evening.

Chapter 23

Let no false pity
Spare the blow—

—A
DELAIDE
A
NNE
P
ROCTER

 

 

The moon was high as Sage finally decided on a spot for a campsite for his people. The children were restless, some weeping from exhaustion. The women moved listlessly about, spreading blankets across the dew-dampened ground and digging among their belongings for food for their families.

Since Chief Four Fingers and his warriors were in the vicinity, Sage refused to allow a campfire. His people were forced to eat cold provisions and to sleep without the comfort of a fire to warm them through the long, cool night.

As Leonida gently lay Runner on a blanket that Sage had spread for her, the child awakened, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Are we there yet?” he asked, leaning on one elbow. “Are we where we will have a new home?”

Sage knelt down and ran his fingers through Runner's thick hair. “We are at a temporary shelter,” he said. “Tomorrow we will move onward. We will arrive at a place you will learn to call your home.”

Runner shivered. “I'm cold,” he whined, gazing questioningly up at Sage. “There is no fire. Why is there no fire?”

“It is not safe to throw off the light of a fire into the heavens to be seen by our enemies,” Sage grumbled, grabbing another blanket and wrapping it around Runner's tiny shoulders. “Tonight the blankets alone must warm you.”

“I shall keep you warm, sweetie,” Leonida said, sitting down beside Runner. Sage lifted the child onto her lap, smoothing the blanket back around his shoulders as it fell down away from him.

As Runner cuddled against Leonida, she gazed up at Sage, frowning. “Must you leave us?” she murmured. “Surely Chief Four Fingers is far gone by now, so far you will never be able to catch up with him. Let us trust that he is, Sage, and go on with our lives as we have planned.”

“Our plans were altered the moment I smelled the smoke and discovered it was from a temporary camp of the Kiowa,” he said. “Four Fingers knows too much about this land that I foolishly thought was my own secret. There is not enough room for both the Kiowa and the Navaho on this land, nor can I risk that Four Fingers may find our new village once it is established.”

He paused and put a gentle hand on Leonida's cheek. “Or we will always be looking over our shoulders wondering which rock or tree he is hiding behind,” he said thickly. “Or which moment one of his arrows will find the hearts of those we love.”

He rose to his feet and placed his fists on his hips. “Once and for all I must rid our lives of all obstacles,” he said flatly, looking down at her.

“But that's impossible,” Leonida said, easing Runner from her lap. She made sure he was wrapped securely in the blanket, then rose to her feet. She put a hand on Sage's arm. “Darling, besides Chief Four Fingers, there is Kit Carson and . . .”

“This I know,” Sage said, his eyes flashing. “He, too, will vanish from our lives. Soon I will guarantee that to you.”

Leonida paled at the thought of his coming face to face with Kit Carson, which meant that he would also be facing the soldiers from Fort Defiance. She started to risk his anger by arguing with him, but he was already walking stiffly away from her.

She hugged herself with her arms, staring at him, loving him and fearing for him in the same heartbeat. In the spill of the moonlight's silver rays, he looked so magnificently noble as he went to his horse and quickly swung himself into the saddle. One thing that she was grateful for was that he had taken the time to dress in trousers and shirt of goatskin and tall moccasins of deer hide, instead of his usual scanty breechclout. At least he would be shielded against the colder breezes as he rode hard across the land toward danger.

Leonida looked nervously past him at the many Navaho warriors awaiting Sage's command to follow him into the forest, in search of their enemies. Every warrior was mounted on a fine war horse, and the gleam of the moon glittered threateningly on the steel of their rifles. As Sage whirled his horse and galloped away, his warriors wheeled their horses and swung their rifles above their heads, following his lead.

“My belly hurts,” Runner whined. “I'm hungry.”

Leonida turned around and looked down at him, glad that she had something to do to busy her hands and her heart while Sage was out there somewhere risking his life for the freedom of his people.

As she reached for their travel bag, in which was food enough to last them several more days, she glanced over at Pure Blossom, asleep close by on a blanket. Leonida wasn't sure if she should awaken her so that she could share the cold, late meal with her and Runner, or if she should allow her to sleep. Rest sometimes was as important as food for those who were ill.

Leonida chose to let her sleep. When she awakened, there would be time enough to eat. It seemed that food had lost its importance for Pure Blossom these past few days. Sleep seemed of prime importance, and perhaps that was a blessing for someone who was facing imminent death.

Taking one of the last peaches, Leonida placed it on a wooden platter and split it in half. She plucked the pit out and carefully put it in a leather pouch. It, along with many other seeds, was being saved as the last of the peaches were eaten, to be planted later, so that another orchard might be allowed to prosper for the Navaho at their newly established stronghold.

After the seed was securely in the pouch and back inside the travel bag, Leonida gave Runner half of the juicy fruit.

Before eating her half, she looked slowly around at the others. When she found Sally and Adam on a blanket on the far side of the group, she smiled to herself, for they had been seen to as though they were as important as the Navaho. They were eating beef jerky, and a peach split in half rested in a wooden bowl beside Sally.

A thrill of sorts spread through Leonida as she watched Sally place the seed from her peach in a leather pouch, obviously also thinking of the Navaho's needs in the future, showing that she was willing to do her part.

She turned her attention back to Runner as he swallowed the last of his peach and put his small hand on her arm, shaking it.

“I'd like more, please?” he said softly, his eyes looking trustingly into Leonida's.

Leonida knew there weren't that many left, and she wanted to spread out the pleasure of having them to eat for several more days. She glanced down at her uneaten half of the peach, then looked at Runner again.

Without hesitation, she scooted the dish toward him. She smiled as he grabbed the peach half from the dish and began taking eager bites from it, the juice rolling down his chin in pink streamers.

Leonida searched inside the travel bag and chose a piece of beef jerky for her meal, trying to forget the peach and how she had thought of eating it all day while traveling. Her mouth had even watered while she broke the peach in half, as though she were already able to taste the sweetness, the juiciness soon to quench her thirst.

“That was good,” Runner said, gulping down the last bite. He wiped his face with the back of a hand. “Now can I go and get Adam? Will you tell us stories?”

“Yes, go and bring whoever you wish to hear my stories,” Leonida said, but she grabbed one of his hands before he could leave. She gave Pure Blossom another troubled glance, then said sternly, “But you tell the boys that they must sit quietly and not say a word. They can't even laugh. We don't want to do anything to disturb Pure Blossom. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Runner said anxiously, then wrenched his hand free and left in a mad run toward Adam.

Before Runner returned with the eager children, Leonida took a moment to lift her eyes to the heavens with a soft prayer that might help Sage in the moments of trial that awaited him. She prayed that she be given strength to accept what might happen these next few hours to her husband.

* * *

Dawn was just breaking along the horizon when Sage caught sight of a fire up ahead, beside the shine of a river. He brought his horse to a shuddering stop, quickly dismounted, and secured the reins on the ground beneath the weight of a large rock. Then he nodded to his warriors to follow him as he began moving stealthily toward the camp ahead. His hand clutched his rifle, his eyes narrowed with hatred as he crept closer and closer.

Then he stopped, puzzled by the paucity of horses grazing at the riverbank. There were only four, which meant that there were only four riders.

Where were the rest if this camp was Four Fingers and his warriors?

If it wasn't Four Fingers, then who . . . ?

Motioning with his hand for his men to spread out and surround the camp, Sage began moving again, his moccasined feet making not even a shuffling sound in the sand beneath them. He frowned up at a red-winged hawk as it began soaring in the air in slow circles above the campfire, its screeches piercing the morning silence.

Then a rattler slithered into view, shaking its rattle at Sage, threatening him at this moment more than those who were only footsteps away with rifles lying at their sides.

A knife suddenly hissed through the air and sliced the head of the rattler off before it had time to strike at Sage.

Sage smiled over his shoulder at Spotted Feather, glad that he had chosen to stay close behind instead of going in another direction.

Sage nodded a silent thank-you, then continued moving stealthily onward until he was close enough to the sleeping men to realize for certain that he had not found Chief Four Fingers. Yet these were four of his warriors, who surely had separated from Four Fingers to continue scouting the area.

Anger and disappointment fused into one single explosive emotion within Sage. As his men moved in on all sides of the sleeping Kiowa, he inched his way toward them.

Then, as though with one heartbeat, the Navaho raced into the camp, and before the Kiowa understood what was happening, they were captured and tied together with one rope.

“Four Fingers,” Sage growled, leaning down into their faces. “Tell me where I can find Four Fingers.”

None of the Kiowa offered a response. They stood with their shoulders squared and their lips tightly pursed, eyeing Sage with contempt.

Sage nodded at Black Thunder. “Release one of them,” he said, his voice tight. “Release the one who is called Red Bonnet.”

Red Bonnet was set free. He was shoved over, to stand in front of Sage.

“Tell me where I can find your chief or you will suffer for your silence,” Sage ordered, handing his rifle to Black Thunder and yanking his knife from its sheath at his right side. “Count your fingers. You now see five? Soon it will be four, and then three.”

Red Bonnet glared at Sage, unmoved by the threat.

Sage jerked one of the Kiowa's hands out and held it out before him. Sage raised the knife, unflinching. But just as he was ready to set the sharp blade to Red Bonnet's flesh, one of the others spoke up, stopping the planned torture.

“He is gone far away,” the Kiowa said, his voice anxious as he watched the steadiness of Sage's knife. “We separated from him. We go our way. He goes his. He threatens your peace no longer. Nor do we. Allow us to leave. We will ride away and not look back. I vow to you that this is true.”

Sage eased his knife to his side, studying the Kiowa's expression, trying to tell if he told the truth. What the Kiowa said did seem logical. Usually scouts did not leave in groups of four, especially if the band of Indians was so small in number anyway. Sending so many away weakened their defenses too much should an enemy suddenly appear along their path of travel.

“It is true,” Red Bonnet said thickly, sweat pearling on his brow as he watched Sage's knife. “Let us ride free. We tell no one about you. You see, I understand that you are fleeing your stronghold. Four Fingers told Kit Carson where to find your stronghold. He did this to gain more freedom for himself from the white people. Kit Carson agreed. He allowed Four Fingers to go on his way. It was a short time later that Four Fingers sent us all away from him in groups of four, to find a life of our own. That is what I desire. To live in peace. If that is what you also seek, so be it.”

“Which way did Four Fingers go to seek his new path of life?” Sage asked guardedly. He sighed with relief when Red Bonnet pointed in the direction opposite from Sage's planned destination.

Sage went to the three Kiowa who were tied together. He untied them and frowned at each of them. “You are allowed to go, but should you decide to go back on your word and I find you anywhere near my people, you will learn the most grueling ways of slow death imaginable,” he warned.

Going to his stallion, Sage swung himself into the saddle. He took his rifle as Black Thunder handed it to him. He gripped it tightly with one hand, and with the other snapped the reins and sent his horse into a hard gallop away from the campsite. As much as he tried, he could not feel at peace with the decision that he had just made. As much as he tried, he could not see Chief Four Fingers giving up all that easily to the white pony soldiers—not even Kit Carson.

“Kit Carson,” he whispered to himself. “He is next. He must make promises that I
can
believe.”

He rode back in the direction of his camp even though tomorrow he would search for Kit Carson's. First he must make sure that enough warriors were left to protect his people in their temporary camp. If Four Fingers did decide to seek him and his people out, especially now that he must know they were no longer at the stronghold, his warriors would be ready for him.