Wind Rider (20 page)

“In Powder River country. In Red Cloud’s
camp. She’s whore to a Cheyenne warrior.”

“Good God! What were you doing in Indian territory? Don’t you know how dangerous it is?
There’s a patrol out there right now, looking for Indians.”

“The Indians won’t hurt me. I’m a trader. I
bring geegaws, pots and pans, and useful items
for the women.”

“What else do you bring them?” Gilmore queried.

“Why, nothin’. That’s why they don’t bother
me. I’m harmless.”

“As harmless as a rattlesnake,” Gilmore muttered beneath his breath. “What about the
woman? If you’re on such good terms with
the Indians, why didn’t you bring the woman
back with you?”

“I would have if Red Cloud had allowed it.
It’s your job to negotiate for captives, ain’t
it?”

“Are you suggesting I send a patrol out to
get her? If you are, I’m afraid you’ll have to guide us. We’ve been hunting for Red Cloud’s
camp for months, but so far we’ve had little
luck locating him. He’s moved frequently to
throw us off the trail.”

“Hell no! I ain’t suggestin’ you send a patrol. They’ll be slaughtered. There’s lookouts posted
all over the area. They’d know you was on your
way hours in advance of your arrival.”

At the end of his patience, Gilmore asked,
“Just what
are
you suggesting, Wilton?”

“Just you and me will go in. They know me and won’t hurt us. You negotiate for the wom
an’s release and I’ll do the translating although
Red Cloud can speak English well enough. As
long as we go alone and they realize there’s
no patrol with us, they’ll not be alarmed. To
be safe, don’t wear your uniform.”

Gilmore sat back in his chair, staring at Wilton over his tented fingers. He imagined young Hannah McLin in the hands of savages and his
blood ran cold. “Did she appear well?”

Wilton recalled the radiant beauty who stuck
out like a gilded rose in a dark field and
answered truthfully. “She looked well enough
to me. Evidently, the young buck is treatin’ her
good. But that ain’t no excuse not to rescue her.
There’s a reward out for her, ain’t there?”

Gilmore snorted in disgust. “I should have
known there was more to your concern than
worry over a servant girl. The reward is yours if I decide to rescue her. But I’ll need the colonel’s
permission first.”

Wilton nodded. “I’ll be stayin’ at the fort for
a few days. Look me up when you know for
sure.”

Lt. Trent Gilmore stared at the handbill
describing Hannah after the trader left, and
something stirred within him. He knew the
woman was probably being abused, but that
wasn’t the only reason he felt he should negotiate with Red Cloud.

A southerner who had joined the western army after the end of the Civil War, Lt.
Gilmore was a man out to regain all that he
had lost during the conflict. He was a glory seeker who sought advancement in the army,
and he believed that rescuing a woman in jeop
ardy was a good way to gain the recognition
he deserved. Unfortunately, it was not easy to
convince Col. Renfro that he should rescue a
runaway servant girl.

“We already have a patrol out in Powder
River country, Lieutenant,” Renfro explained when he heard Gilmore’s proposal. “Are you
taking the word of a man like Wilton? What
if the woman doesn’t exist?”

“Oh, she exists all right, Colonel, else Wilton
wouldn’t be so concerned about earning the reward offered by her owner. We both know
for a fact that the trader comes and goes as he
pleases inside Indian territory. And though we
suspect him of smuggling guns and whiskey, we’ve never caught him red-handed. Maybe I
can kill two birds with one stone. Perhaps I
can learn more about his smuggling activities
as well as rescue the girl.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Lieutenant? With patrols out, we’re short of men right
now. Just as soon as we ride to quell one upris
ing, the Indians strike in another place. We’ve spread ourselves as thin as we dare. Our men
can’t seem to find their way to Indian strong
holds due to bad maps and inept guides.”

“The trader assures me he can find Red
Cloud’s camp. But we must go alone; otherwise we will not be allowed to enter the camp. Do I
have your permission to go after the girl, sir?”

“It’s your life, Lieutenant. Since you’re so
determined, you may go. I will give you a
message to carry to Red Cloud. We have prepared a new treaty and need his signature. Tell
him that the Plains tribes may keep the Powder
River country in return for permission to build forts and roads. I will give you a copy of the
treaty for him to sign. Tell him some minor
chiefs have already signed. You may also tell him that releasing the woman captive will help
cement friendship between our people.”

A slow smile curved Gilmore’s lips. His mis
sion was to be more important than he origi
nally thought. “You can count on me, sir. I
will not return without Miss Hannah McLin.
And, hopefully, Red Cloud’s signature on the
treaty.”

Fear for her husband’s safety plagued Hannah
during Wind Rider’s prolonged absence. She
performed her duties and tried not to anger
Spotted Doe during those infrequent times
when they met. Coyote appeared regularly with game he had killed, and Woman-Who-Waddles showed her how to skin and cook his catch. She
knew nothing of what was happening outside
the village, despite the fact that runners arrived
frequently with messages for Red Cloud. Obvi
ously, no one thought her important enough to be kept informed of events taking place in the outside world.

Over two weeks had passed since the men
of the village had left. Hannah was preparing
the noon meal for her and Woman-Who-
Waddles
 
when
 
one
 
of the
 
men
 
from
 
the
Shield society rode into camp. He reined
in before Red Cloud’s tepee and slid from his horse, obviously in a great state of agi
tation. Red Cloud came out to greet him. An
excited exchange of words ensued, accom
panied with much gesturing. By now, men,
women, and children had crowded around
their chief, listening with great interest to
the conversation.

Hannah spotted Coyote in the crowd and rushed to join him, since she knew he under
stood a smattering of English. Using a combi
nation of English, Indian words, and sign lan
guage, she asked him what was happening.

“The trader has been spotted traveling
toward the village,” he said in halting English.
“He brings a stranger with him.”

”A stranger?”

Coyote nodded. “Howling Wolf wants to
know if the Shield society should kill them
before they reach the village.”

“What does Red Cloud say?”

Coyote withheld his answer until Red Cloud
finished speaking and sat down outside his
lodge, his legs crossed, his face stoic.

“He told Howling Wolf to let them enter the
village. He does not think the trader would
bring a stranger if he presented a danger to
the village. Red Cloud will listen to what
they have to say. Perhaps the stranger bears
a message from the Great White Father in
Washington, or the commission who makes
the treaties.”

The people slowly dispersed, whispering among themselves, speculating on the reason
for the trader’s appearance so soon after his
last visit. Hannah was curious herself, won
dering what the man with Trader wanted.
She thought the stranger a brave man for
venturing into an Indian stronghold without
a company of soldiers behind him. Or more
likely a corrupt one, given what she knew
about the trader. Did the stranger also deal
in smuggled arms?

Less than an hour passed before the two men
rode into the village. Trader had no pack mules with him, which meant there would be no trad
ing taking place. Red Cloud still sat in front
of his lodge, waiting patiently. When the two
riders approached he rose. His stark features
appeared carved in granite, his proud bearing
giving mute testimony to his determination
to stand fast against the enemy. The people
drifted toward Red Cloud’s lodge, gathering in
small groups as the two men dismounted and
greeted their chief.

Trader greeted Red Cloud in the Sioux lan
guage, and after Red Cloud returned the greeting Trader began speaking rapidly. Hannah could not follow the conversation. But when
Trader gazed out over the crowd, spotted her,
and nudged the man standing quietly beside him, panic seized her. They both stared at her,
as if they knew her. She wanted to turn and
run, but her legs refused to obey the command.
When Hannah thought she heard her name
mentioned, her heart plummeted to her feet.

“Why have you brought an enemy to my village?” Red Cloud asked Trader.

“This is Lieutenant Gilmore from Fort
Laramie. He comes in peace. As you can
see, he does not wear his uniform. He brings
a message to you from the army.”

“You are welcome in peace,” Red Cloud replied, turning his piercing gaze on Gilmore.
Though he was angry with the army, he still
harbored slim hopes of living in peace with the
white eyes. If a peace could not be reached,
he feared all Plains Indians would be slain or
forced to live on reservations. “Tell me about this new treaty.”

“Lieutenant Gilmore brings a new peace
treaty from the fort. Many great chiefs have already signed it. The commission hopes you
will sign it as well.”

Red Cloud stared intently at the young man standing before him. With an impa
tient gesture, he gave Gilmore permission to
speak. Gilmore cleared his throat and said,
“My superiors strongly advise that you sign
the treaty, Red Cloud.”

Trader started to translate, but Red Cloud
gave the man a withering glance and said,
“I understand the white man’s tongue. What
does the treaty say?” Though Red Cloud was
a hostile chief, even he knew it was important
to listen to all proposals.

“The treaty gives the Plains Indians full rights to Powder River country in exchange for permission to build forts and roads/’

Red Cloud gave a snort of disgust. “Powder
River country is already ours. Our people are here in force. We will stay.”

“What about the chiefs who have already signed the treaty?”

“Name them,” Red Cloud demanded.

Gilmore cleared his throat and named a few
chiefs of several small friendly bands. Not one
important chief was included in the list.

“I will not touch the pen,” Red Cloud
declared, “nor will any other important Sioux,
Cheyenne, or Arapaho chief. Tell the commis
sion we will fight for the right to live where we please. If they try to build forts they will
be destroyed. Travelers through our territory
will not be welcomed.”

Lt. Gilmore knew that Gen. Carrington had
been sent to Fort Laramie with 600 infantry
men to keep the Powder River country safe for white travelers. In order to do so, roads
and forts would have to be built through
the area.

“Is that your final word?”

“I have spoken.”

If Red Cloud expected Gilmore to leave, he was mistaken. The lieutenant merely pocketed
the treaty and stood his ground.

“There is another matter Lieutenant Gilmore wishes to discuss with you, Red Cloud,” Trad
er said, trying to defuse a potentially volatile situation. “It has nothing to do with the treaty.
I ask that you listen.”

Red Cloud looked at Gilmore and motioned for him to sit down. Gilmore understood
immediately, dropping down to his haunches
while Red Cloud lowered himself to the
ground, crossing his legs in front of him.
“Speak, blue coat. What more do you have
to say?”