Blue Bonnet (3 page)

Now that the first shafts of pale
sunlight had broken over the area, the birds woke up and flapped
their wings, ready to fly off their tree roosts. A redwing
blackbird's thrill stood out among the repetitive cheeps of song
sparrows. In the distance, a quail called his bobwhite tune, and
another answered. At least, Hannah thought she heard real quails.
Indians were experts at bird calls as signals so she knew she
couldn't trust her hearing.

A mourning dove cooed in the
brush, and one answered down by the creek. Most mornings as they
walked toward the creek, they heard mourning doves. That was always
a good sign when the birds weren't afraid to sing.

The rooster crowed in the chicken
coop back of the cabin. He upset the laying hens, causing them to
cackle and caw. The rooster didn't have a reason to be quiet. What
did that old cock know about the dangers outside his coop? He was
just a domesticated chicken. Not a wild bird loose on the prairie
with wild instincts when it came to danger.

With Indians on the prowl, even
the short distance from the house down the path through the trees
to the creek was a nervous march. Half way down that path, they
would lose sight of the cabin. Any distance away from the cabin
made it hard to race back to the cabin's safety.

Usually, when Hannah and Billie
saw Indians glide by the clearing in recent days, it was just
before dusk or just after dawn. So far, Hannah hadn't seen any
signs of Indians. With watchful eyes, she tightened her grip on her
Winchester and said softly over her shoulder, “Might as well come
on out, Billie.”

“No sign of Indians today? That's
good, isn't it?” Billie asked hopefully. She took a quick look
around as she stood in the doorway. “I don't see old skinny chief
out here.” She smiled weakly at Hannah.

“I haven't seen
any Indians atall. That old chief is probably long gone by now,”
said Hannah. She wanted to sound more confident of her answer for
Billie's sake than she felt. She added softly, “I don't see any
strange movement, but that doesn't mean Indians aren't nearby right
this minute. This may be the day, they didn't move on.”

“I'd rather you
hadn't put that idea in my head,” Billie grumbled.

Hannah was trying to prepare
herself as much as Billie to face the facts. The savages might be
standing as quiet as mice and still as a statue of General Robert
E. Lee, watching from behind the trees. Billie was smart enough to
understand that and just the same, scared enough to have
butterflies in her stomach.

Even if the Indian were around,
the women had made up their minds, they couldn’t do without water.
As they edged away from the cabin, Hannah's head swiveled on her
neck one way and the other, reminding Billie of a hoot owl looking
for a mouse. As the distance lengthened between them and the cabin,
Hannah's determination weaken. “We can't do without water for a
whole two weeks until Bat gets home. We got to chance going to the
creek, don't we?”

“We do. Now don't start trying to
change your mind. We're out in the open, and on our way to the
creek so just keep walking across this yard. There isn't anything
else we can do,” Billie chided.

With a little encouragement from
each other, their minds were made up. They kept moving.

Hannah planned, “Once we get to
the creek, dipped the buckets full fast.”

“I know and head back to the cabin
quick,” Billie whispered. “Then what?”

“We'll make the decision about
another trip to the creek once we're safe in the cabin,” Hannah
answered.

“Good, because I may lose my nerve
and not want to try this jaunt again today,” Billie
groused.

“I know what ya
mean.” Hannah eased to the path, alert for danger and Billie moved
softly beside her. Wordlessly, the women started on the shaded,
timber lined clay, rocky path to Sidewinder Creek.

A sharp crack of a broken stick
sounded like a knife cutting a rabbit bone and sliced through the
quiet timber. Hannah and Billie expected the worse as they froze in
place. Their eyes on behind and in front of them as they listened
intently.

“This time of morning that might
have been a deer stirring in the hardwoods,” Billie suggested in a
trembling voice.

“They usually do stir right about
now for sure. Ya just might be right. It was a deer we heard,”
Hannah said in a whisper, trying to convince herself.

Billie summoned the courage to
agree. “That's what it was.”

Hannah hated to upset Billie. She
could have mentioned the birds quit singing once they started down
the path, but she didn't. She still wasn't sure birds is what she
heard earlier.

A rabbit ran in front of them
across the path. They normally shot rabbits on these walks to use
in rabbit track soup. Billie raised her gun
instinctively.

Hannah reached over and lowered
the barrel, giving Billie a nod of her head. She hissed, “No more
noise than we can help today. Not a good idea to announce to the
Indians we're out here. Anyway, we need to save our ammo in case we
have an emergency.”

A slight breeze ruffled Billie’s
curls. Nervous perspiration plastered one stray curl over her left
eye. She wiped across her eye and pressed her hand on top her head
to hold her hair in place. “Hannah, we forgot our
bonnets.”

“Too late now,” grumbled Hannah
with her eyes on the surroundings. “Just keep moving.”

She could see the creek bank ahead
of them. The soothing rush of running water gave her a calming
feeling. They were almost there.

Another twig snapped. That was the
only noise in the timber. Someone or some animal was close by.
Hannah bit her lower lip as she darted a nervous glance at Billie.
Billie's face had paled.

Hannah’s heart pounded as she
thought of Indians. She listened intently. Not too far from them, a
whippoorwill called. From the other side the path, a whippoorwill
answered.

Hannah stopped and shook her head
at Billie. “We got to make a run for the cabin. Them whippoorwill
calls was wrong.”

Billie dropped her buckets and
took off running. “Must be really dumb Indians behind the trees to
think they can fool us. Whippoorwills only hollered at the
beginning of night. For sure, they don't call this time of
day.”

Hannah wasn’t a bit surprised when
six Indians stepped from behind the trees. She halted behind Billie
when the Indians slowly surrounded them.

Billie gave a low squeal but kept
her composure. She raised her rifle, turning so her back was to
Hannah's back. That way she faced the Indians blocking the path to
the cabin.

The tall, skinny leader confronted
Hannah. In a deep passive tone, the narrow faced Indian jabbered
gruffly at the women. Waving a finger at their guns, he pointed the
finger down toward the ground.

A tall, solid built woman, Hannah
planted her feet and glared at the Indian. She raised her head
high, wanting him to see the fire in her eyes. “Old Skinny Chief is
as ugly as a mud fence,” she cracked.

“This is no time to be making
jokes he isn't going to like,” Billie complained.

Back to back with her
sister-in-law, Hannah felt Billie tremble. Out of the corner of her
mouth, she said, “Stay calm, Sis. That old buzzard can't understand
a word we say.” Hannah looked the Indian chief in the eyes and
shook her head. “I don’t understand yer language.”

An Indian, with the quickness of a
mountain lion, snatched Billie’s rifle out of her hands. Billie
squealed as the weapon landed in a gooseberry thicket.

The chief grabbed for Hannah’s
rifle barrel and missed. She brought the rifle up and swiped the
Indian’s face hard enough to make a resounding smack.

That was totally unexpected. With
a surprised look, he rubbed the red streak instantly turning purple
on his cheek. He glowered at Hannah and shouted angry words to his
men. The Indians rushed the women.

The fight was on. Two braves
grabbed Hannah’s arms while the leader wrestled Hannah’s rifle out
of her grip and threw it into the bushes.

Hannah and Billie shouted,
encouraging each other between yelling and screaming. The women
kicked, punched, pulled braids and bit hands and arms.

The Indians yowled in pain between
grunting and panting hard. They tried their darnedest to hold onto
the women. At times, it looked as if the women were getting the
best of them.

Finally, Billie gave up and
collapsed from exhaustion. Three of the Indians pulled her to the
side of the path. They squatted down next to her to watch the show
as the other three Indians fought with Hannah. Billie's attackers
didn't want any part of the fight with Hannah. They were tuckered
from fighting Billie.

Time stood still as the struggle
continued with no sign of let up on Hannah’s part. The three braves
struggled with her, letting go one at a time when she assaulted
them. They backed out of her reach, yelping in pain.

Then for a spell, they strategy
was to take turns getting back into the fracas one at a time. They
hoped the other two braves would be more rested when it was their
turn.

Screaming like a cat a mount
threatening to kill, Hannah turned in a slow circle with her hands
shaped into claws. She gave each of the Indians a wild eyed look,
jabbing her hands at them. As tired and bruised as she was, she
dared the braves to continue to take her on.

Finally, while one of the braves
had Hannah distracted, the tall, skinny Indian rushed her from
behind. His strong arms circled her in a steel vise grip, pinning
her arms to her sides.

With renewed determination, he
grunted as he picked her up. Hannah kicked his shins as hard as she
could. The Indian grunted in pain, but he didn't dare let go of
this fighting she devil now that he had her caught. She'd kill him
for sure. He endured her thrashing struggles and horrendous screams
without losing his grip.

With a breathless, halting effort,
the Indian spoke over his shoulder to the other braves as he
staggered for the creek, carrying Hannah. The men pulled the
struggling Billie to her feet and dragged her along with
them.

Hannah figured the chief meant to
drown her. As the cold water whipped under her torn cotton skirt
and rushed around her weak legs, she yelled, “Good bye, Billie. If
ya live, tell Bat I love him.”

The Indian kept wading until
Hannah was waist deep in the swirling rapids. He put one hand on
top Hannah’s head and ducked the ranting woman under the
water.

This is the
end,
she thought, trying to hold her
breath as she struggled to free herself from the Indian's
grip.

Suddenly, Hannah realized she was
being pulled upward by strong hands. She rose slowly among the air
bubbles in the murky water. The brave lifted her with strong
griping fingers that bit into her shoulders until her head was
above water. She felt light headed when she reached the surface and
inhaled air.

Gasping to fill her lungs, she
spit out a mouth full of water. With an iron grip on her upper
arms, the Indian twisted her to face him. His face close to hers,
Hannah stared at his swollen, discolored cheek. She was proud she
had done that to him. The Indian touched his sore cheek gingerly
with two fingers and uttered words softly as if he spoke for her
ears only.

With a hard shove, he sent her
backward. Hannah sank under the water. Exhausted, she plummeted
like a rock to the bottom. Instinctively, free from the Indian's
grip and revived by the cold water, she, with what little energy
she had left, gave a swift kick and sprang back to the
surface.

Coughing and sputtering, Hannah
tread water, watching the skinny Indian’s back as he waded away
from her. Staggering up the bank, he spoke haltingly, in between
trying to catch his breath, to the other braves. He gestured toward
the west.

The Indians took their hands away
from Billie. The chief turned to look at Hannah still in the creek
and gave her a solemn nod. Before either woman understood they had
been set free, the braves moved swiftly and melted into the
timber.

“What just happened?”
Hannah said to Billie as she waded out of the water.

“I can't believe they just
let us go. Do you think they will be back when they get rested up
and try to capture us again?” Billie asked, sitting hunched
over.

“I don't know, but I
figure it might take them a good long time to rest up after what we
did to them,” Hannah said, grinning.

“Billie grimaced when she
moved and groaned. “I figure we got as good as we gave.”

“I don't want to stick
around in the open to find out if they are going to change their
minds. We better hunt the buckets we dropped in the path so we can
get our water toted to the house. I'm ready to bar the door and
stay put until Bat comes home. I sure need a while to rest and
heal. Ya do, too. Ya look awful bad,” Hannah said
bluntly.

“You don't look so good
yourself,” Billie retorted with a grin as she rubbed her swollen
cheek.