Brings the Lightning (The Ames Archives Book 1) (27 page)

There was another discussion between the Indians. “Satank says you must have powerful medicine, to bring the lightning at the fort and to shoot Hunting Wolf’s medicine bundle from his hands at so great a distance. He asks how a white man comes by such medicine.”

“Tell him I earned my medicine in battle, fighting in the great white man’s war. I was with the gray soldiers, not the blue. The blue soldiers defeated our armies, but they did not defeat me. I kept my medicine. Now I seek to make a new life for myself and my wife at the distant mountains,” and he gestured to the west, “far from the blue soldiers who now live in the place that once was my home.”

Walt could almost imagine that a hint of sympathy crossed Satank’s face as he spoke to the interpreter. “Satank says he understands what it is to be driven from your lands. It has happened to the Kiowa too. However, he asks why you ride with blue soldiers now.”

“Because I must. If I tried to ride through this country with just my wife and two hired hands, we’d all be killed within a matter of days.”

“Satank understands. Because you would not stay in your homeland after it was lost to the blue soldiers, and because you do not seek to take land from the Kiowa in which to make your home, he says you and your friends may pass safely through these lands, that have always been our hunting grounds. He will not attack your wagons, and will send word to the rest of the Kiowa to let you pass in peace.”

“Please thank him for me.”

“Satank asks where you got that rifle sleeve.”

“I took it from the body of an outlaw in Missouri last year. He and five of his friends tried to attack my wagons. We killed all of them. I don’t know where he got it.”

“Satank asks if he can look at the sleeve. He thinks he knew the warrior who owned it.”

“Of course.”

Walt lifted the heavy Sharps rifle, pulled the sleeve from it and lowered the rifle onto his saddle, careful to ensure that its barrel pointed away from the two Indians. He folded the sleeve and held it out to the interpreter. The man took the sleeve, turned, and handed it to Satank. The old man unfolded it and peered closely at the beadwork, fingering the eagle and owl feathers in the tassel.

“He says this belonged to Laughing Crow, a Dog Soldier of our tribe. He was Satank’s blood brother and friend. He was killed in a fight with buffalo hunters long ago, before the white men made war on each other.”

Walt could see a flicker of emotion on the old warrior’s otherwise impassive face as he recalled his friend. He was struck with a sudden inspiration, and asked, “Did Laughing Crow have any sons? Are any of them Kiowa warriors today?”

Satank didn’t respond in words; instead, he half-turned on his horse’s back, pointed to a lithe young man astride a grulla horse, and motioned to him to join them. The warrior trotted his horse forward, halting at Satank’s side. The old man handed him the rifle sleeve, saying something in Kiowa. The new arrival unfolded it and stared, stroking it in a way that seemed almost reverent.

Walt said to the interpreter, “Please tell Satank it’s only right that Laughing Crow’s rifle sleeve should return to his tribe. If this man is his descendant, I will give it to him.”

Satank looked surprised as he listened to the translation, and the young warrior’s head jerked up as he stared at Walt. The old man spoke through the interpreter again. “This is Laughing Crow’s grandson. He is named Laughing Raven, and this is his first year on the raiding trail. The rifle sleeve is strong medicine. Are you sure you wish to give it up?”

“I am sure. Laughing Crow’s medicine will not pass to me, because I am not Kiowa. However, it may be that it will pass to his grandson, Laughing Raven, if he proves worthy of it. He should have it.”

There was a glint of approval in Satank’s eye. “You have medicine as strong as any Kiowa, you have shown courage in battle and skill with your weapons, you are generous, and despite your youth, you are wise. You are a warrior. If you were Kiowa, you would be a Dog Soldier like Laughing Crow, just as Laughing Raven hopes to be one day.”

“I thank Satank for his words. Coming from a war leader and medicine man such as he, I value them.”

The young Kiowa said something to Satank, who replied. After a brief conversation, the interpreter said, “Laughing Raven thanks you as well. Our custom is that gifts between warriors should be exchanged. Satank says it would be fitting for Laughing Raven to give you his tomahawk in return for the rifle sleeve. He asks if you agree to this.”

Walt nodded. “Yes, I agree.”

The young man pulled a tomahawk from the waistband of his loincloth and handed it to the interpreter handle-first, who passed it on in the same way. Walt hefted it experimentally in his hand. It was beautifully balanced, with a straight wire-bound wooden shaft more than two feet long, bearing tribal patterns and supporting a wickedly sharp head. The base of the shaft was decorated with a dangling tassel of yellow and red beads in an intricate design, as well as a red-dyed feather.

Walt looked directly at the young warrior and nodded as he said, “Please thank Laughing Raven for his gift. It is a powerful weapon.”

Satank spoke again, and the interpreter said, “Satank says it is fitting that a man like you, strong in your own medicine power, should be the one to bring back to the Kiowa Laughing Crow’s rifle sleeve and its medicine power. He gives you a new name. Among our people, you shall be called Brings The Lightning from this time onward.”

“Satank honors me. I will be a friend to the Kiowa in my dealings with them from this time onward.”

“Satank is pleased. He says you and your wagons will have no trouble until you reach Pond Creek. He says if you go past there, you may have to fight the Cheyenne. Several of their raiding parties are out in what you call Colorado, which was theirs before the white man came.”

“I thank him for his warning. This wagon train will turn around at Pond Creek and return east, but my wife and I will go on through Colorado Territory. We’ll be careful.”

The old warrior nodded. He didn’t say goodbye, but simply turned his horse and rode steadily back to the line of Indians, not looking back. Laughing Raven followed him, folding the rifle sleeve once more and putting it carefully over his arm. The interpreter plucked his lance from the soil. “We leave you now. Go in peace.”

“You as well.”

Walt sat his horse, watching as the line of Indians turned to the west and began to walk away, those at the back moving forward to form a double line with those in front. Laughing Raven waited on top of the rise as the others rode past him. As the last riders approached, the Indian raised his hand to Walt in salute, and he returned the gesture. The young man turned his horse and rode over the rise, following the rest of his party, the rifle sleeve still folded over his arm.

Walt heaved a long sigh of relief, feeling the tension run out of him like water. Smiling, he turned his horse and slowly rode back to the wagon train. He found Rose, Samson, Elijah, Tad and Tom Jones waiting for him in a group. Swinging down from his saddle and putting a reassuring arm around his wife, he told them what had happened.

Jones nodded slowly. “I don’t believe in Injun medicine, but if I did, I’d reckon you’ve been real good medicine for us on this trip, Ames. If Satank says we can pass in peace, we won’t have any more Injun trouble until we reach Pond Creek. It’s as good as a gold-plated guarantee.”

“Yeah,” the scout agreed, taking the tomahawk from Walt and inspecting it closely. “That, plus this tomahawk, ain’t a bad trade for an old rifle sleeve.” He returned it handle-first. “You musta really impressed Satank with that shot.” Tad suddenly laughed. “As a matter o’ fact, I’d say you did him a helluva favor. He’s gotta be well into his sixties by now. There’ll be lots o’ young bucks like Hunting Wolf, all feelin’ their oats an’ wantin’ t’ take his place. You just reined in the whole lot of ’em, real hard.”

“What do you mean?”

“Way we heard it, Hunting Wolf challenged Satank to his face. You finished that once and for all when you killed him, ’specially by killin’ his medicine first. Once word gets out about what happened, the other young bucks are gonna get the message loud an’ clear: it just ain’t healthy to challenge Satank. They’ll shut up an’ stay shut for at least the next year or two. I reckon he’s grateful to ya for that, even though he’d never come out an’ say it. I daresay that’s the real reason he gave us free passage. It’s his way o’ thankin’ you.”

Walt shrugged. “Well, let’s take advantage of it. The sun’s getting high already, and we’ve still got a long way to go.”

―――――

They rolled into the Pond Creek Stage Station five days later. It was late afternoon by the time they formed the wagon circle beside its buildings. The commanding officer of the army garrison, Captain Gordon, came out to meet them, rubbing his hands in satisfaction.

“I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you,” he told Tom Jones. “We’ve been getting low on ammunition, and that just won’t do. We send out more escorts for wagon trains and stagecoaches than any other army post on the Smoky Hill Trail, and have more trouble with Indians too. They already call this ‘the fightingest fort in the west’, even though we aren’t a proper fort yet. They’re about to build one a short distance from here. It’ll be called Fort Wallace. It can’t happen too soon for me. Most of my men are still living in tents.”

“I guess that’s why they sent us out with fast mule wagons ahead of the regular ox-drawn summer wagon trains,” Jones replied. “We’ve got rifle an’ revolver ammunition for you, plus a lot of other supplies.”

“We’ll start unloading it all first thing tomorrow morning,” the captain promised.

Walt said, “Sir, my wife and I will be going on to Denver City. D’you know when the next wagon train is due? We’d like to join it while crossing Colorado Territory. I hear tell the Cheyenne are raiding there.”

“They are. They’ve never forgiven or forgotten the Sand Creek Massacre back in ’64. Trouble is, they blame us for it even though Federal troops weren’t involved—it was Colorado militia. As far as the Indians are concerned, a bluecoat’s a bluecoat. If that damned Colonel Chivington hadn’t roused the northern Cheyenne and Arapaho to seek revenge, we might be at peace with them today and you could have travelled to Denver City in perfect safety.”

He looked for a moment as if he wanted to spit in frustration, then visibly controlled himself as he shook his head. “Sorry, Mr. Ames, I didn’t mean to sound off like that. I don’t know when the next wagon train will get here, but it shouldn’t take long. I expect you’ll be welcome to join them. If you’d like to pitch camp to one side of the stage station to wait for it, that’ll be in order. There are already a couple of others doing likewise.” He nodded to two wagons parked out on the grass, about a hundred feet from the nearest building.

“Is it safe to have our animals out there at night, Sir?”

“Not always, but at present we don’t have much Indian trouble nearby. That can change overnight, of course. If it does, you can move closer in.”

Walt and Rose spent their last night in the circle of wagons talking with Tom Jones and Tad, reminiscing about the adventures of the journey. They all laughed as they recalled the incident at Fort Ellsworth that had led to Walt getting his new Indian name. Jones said with a grin, “I wonder if those Cheyenne are still running?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Tad agreed, chuckling. “I’ve never seen so much muzzle blast before! I’ll bet only half that double charge of powder burned in those short barrels. The rest must have kept on burning after it went out the muzzle.”

“I’m real glad you had those Henrys along,” Jones remarked. “They saved our butts when you an’ your teamsters opened up on those Injuns. First time I’ve heard a few of those rifles firing together like that. I reckon the three of you put out as many rounds as all the rest of us put together by the time the Injuns broke off their attack. Matter of fact, I’m worried about headin’ back without you. Reckon I’ll have to buy some Henrys for my wagon trains as soon as I get back to Topeka. They’re expensive, but they make a hell of a difference in a fight.”

“Yeah,” Tad agreed soberly. “I may have to ask you for an advance on my pay, boss. I don’t want to do another scoutin’ trip without one.”

Walt glanced at Rose, raising his eyebrows. She immediately divined what he was thinking, and nodded, smiling. He came to his feet, walked over to their ambulance, and took the spare Henry rifle and four boxes of ammunition from beneath their bed. Walking back to the fire, he handed them to Tad. “You’ve taught me the ways of the plains, and helped keep all of us alive. I reckon Rose and I owe you for that. It’s yours.”

Tad’s jaw dropped. “I can’t take this! You may need it.”

“Naw, we can spare it. Between us we have five; one apiece, and that spare rifle. There are only four of us, and we’re well over halfway to Denver City, so I reckon we probably won’t need that one.”

“I… I dunno how to thank you, Ames. This might just make the difference between livin’ an’ dyin’ out here.”

“You can thank us by staying alive, and teaching others what you’ve taught us.”

Jones grinned. “I’m thankin’ you, too. It’ll be good to have a Henry on hand for the journey back. I’ll give you some extra oats for your hosses. We got plenty left, thanks to that midnight resupply at Fort Riley.” They all smiled at the memory.

“Thanks. I like to give half a nosebag-full to each horse at least twice a week, to keep their strength up. It’s hard work for them, pulling our wagons or carrying riders every day for weeks on end. They’re going to be pretty tired by the time we get to Denver City.”

Next morning, while the freight wagons were offloaded into the stage station’s storehouses, Walt, Rose, Samson and Elijah went through their wagon and ambulance, checking their supplies. “It’s better than I’d thought,” Rose observed as she paused for breath, rearranging a wisp of hair that had come loose and was waving over her forehead. “We’re almost two-thirds of the way to Denver City, and still have half the food we brought. I just wish we could get some fresh fruit and vegetables.”