Authors: Mercedes Keyes
Hope bolted
up with her heart accelerating wondering if it could be. She stood staring at the area where the owl had disappeared. Unable to stop
herself, she crept towards it carefully.
Greeneye and some of his braves sat up watching her as she made her way towards the canyon wall. "Gold Raven!" Greeneye called to her, but she waved him quiet and continued without looking back. By
the time she reached the wall, he was there beside her. "I saw an owl
fly into this wall. It did not lift and fly over, but into it." She
whispered, walking along the wall with her left hand groping, feeling
for the opening.
"It is dark...perhaps it flew over and you thought it flew in."
"No. I'm sure, it flew straight, it did not lift. It went
in, right
along
h
ere somewhere, I'm certain...
here
! Wait...I
hink this is it!" She turned into it, stepped a few steps inside and
spread her arms, trying to remember the width of the opening. "I
remember it being just wide enough for a horse and rider to pass
through. In some places, our feet actually touched the sides...but it
continues on and turns.”
"Come out now, we will check it at dawn."
“
I’ll bed down here."
Greeneye stood feeling exasperated.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not moving from this spot. At the first break
of light, I'm mounting up and going in. When I come out on the
other side, it will be to see my brother's old compound."
She stood staring up at him, the look on her face telling him loud
and clear, whether they were up and ready or not, she would be off. Greeneye sighed;
looking at her there in the moonlight moved something in him.
Unable to resist, his hand rose to caress her cheek in admiration.
"After all that he has done to you, how can you love him as you
do? And how can he not know it."
Hope reached up and pulled his hand from her face.
"He knows it Greeneye, but it's up to me, to prove it."
"He deceived you." He reminded her.
Hope's eyes narrowed on him. "Are you, friend or, foe?"
"I am a man. And he does not deserve you."
Hope stood digesting that a moment, then smiled. "Maybe not,
but he is my husband and I am his wife, for better or for worse and I
love him. Now the question here is, where do you stand, as his friend,
or as his betrayer?"
Greeneye exhaled and bowed his head to her. "First light, we will
enter this opening. At the end, should we come out and there be weapons
waiting, we will ride like the wind, and save your Red Crow, your
husband... my friend."
"Hmmm, you have a funny way of showing you're his friend."
"I am human Gold Raven, a woman like you would tempt any
man, rest."
Hope sat on her horse with tears streaming as the braves rode out
of the mountain crevice behind her, heading down the path to reach the open valley floor. There in the distance sat the compound where
she had lived with her brother for a time. Her heart pounded with
fear, the moment had arrived, her prayers began as Greeneye sat
his horse beside her.
"We've come this far, let us go all the way."
Afraid, she nodded. "Yes, lets." Unable to hold back her fear, joy
and trepidation, she made her way down the slope along with the
others, looking like a trail of ants as they formed a line leading to the
entrance. The gate that had once been intact, hung burned, bullet
riddled and battered. As they entered, it was with bows loaded with
arrows, clubs and hatchets out, spears at the ready. To their good fortune, the camp was deserted. They rode within, looking around,
only to see skeletons laying with their clothing flapping in the wind.
There was a large, charred stack of them. Hope quickly looked away from them.
She kept her eyes focused towards Juan's old dwelling, her heart
pounding as her fear grew, she did not dismount until she was right
in front of the door. She swallowed deeply, looking past the door.
Looking away from it, many of the Indians had dismounted and were looking around the compound. Already, they were picking up swords,
daggers and pistols, playing with them, pointing them at each other and pretending to shoot them.
Hope climbed down from her horse, took a deep breath and
walked into what had once been Juan's and Eugene's small home
between her brother's and Maria's. Greeneye, Gray Wolf and a few
other braves were behind her when she entered the other room.
The
wall was intact.
"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Quickly, someone, a
stone, something – yes, a club or hatchet; break down this wall!"
She cried anxiously, feeling the blood pump through her veins as her
pulses throbbed; she tried to hold onto her anxiety until she saw the weapons.
Several of the Indians, came in and were hacking at the wall with all
they had, until it started crumbling. They stopped after putting a hole
in the wall big enough to look in and what they saw made Hope
scream out!
Greeneye was so happy he grabbed Hope by the head and kissed
her square in the mouth. Overcome with joy as tears poured, Hope
let him get away with it, all she could think of was getting on with
the reason they’d traveled there. A line was formed, and rifles were removed one by one.
When they were unloaded, the amount came to
three hundred, with plenty of ammunition to keep them loaded for a
good long fight. Many of the braves claimed swords, pistols and a rifle! Without wasting time, Hope went straight into
teaching them how to load them, hold, aim and fire. She paced behind them like
a military drill sergeant, impressing upon them the importance of
balancing the weapon and holding it correctly.
Others were fascinated with the swords, laughing and pretend sword
fighting with each other.
They could not believe that Hope was able to spar with them and
teach them fencing moves. For the entirety of the day, they
familiarized themselves with their new weapons.
Hope continued to work herself, remembering all that Mike had
instructed her. Many of them carried the small pistols as she explained
that they were the last line of defense. They were to be used at point
blank range only, or otherwise a waste. Just as her brother called
them... she named them the lifesavers. Rifle and bow for distance,
sword and dagger for closer, which she practiced throwing over, and over. Greeneye watched her as she practiced from one weapon to the
next and his passion for her grew. He decided that it was a good
thing they would be moving on soon, he needed distraction from his mind constantly wandering toward her.
By the night, some had gone and hunted wild game as an
alternative to their dried jerky, while along with Hope, others found
within many of the dwellings jarred foods and preserves. Adding to
that was vegetation still growing from the gardens once tended there.
As the crescent of the moon rose in the night sky, rest for Hope came hard, but finally it arrived. At the earliest possible hour, they
were up.
Each horse loaded to its limit carrying rifles and ammo.
Unable to travel as hard as before, at least they were on their way to
the rendezvous to pass out the weapons to those who showed. Once
there, the training would resume, followed by a determined
ride to the destined place of battle.
* * *
Homes were burned, cattle slaughtered, horses run off and stolen, storage sheds containing foods for the winter were raided, and smoke
houses were wrecked. Men were tortured and left for dead, while the women were abandoned to their fate to be killed or to die unaided as
their attackers carried their children off as captives to their tribes. The trail of destruction raged on and the message was clear... the Indians
wanted the encroaching settlers off of their land and out of their
territory.
For each tribe suffering loss, the
ir retaliation came equally as
harsh. By the time Red Crow and his band joined the others, the
raiding and pillaging was coming to its end. He did not care for the
destruction and attack on the settlers and their families, nor did he
agree with the enslaving of the children.
The militia was gathering its
forces following the trail left for them. With each mile covered their
numbers grew, as well their hatred for the intrusive men they viewed
as savages, destroying their settlements and homes. As the days
progressed into the second week, the combatants converged near the
Sabine River and the ultimate battle began. Through and across the river and
going off into the wooded area nearby, the fighting intensified,
moving forward as twice in the melee the Indians were forced to retreat back
into the protection of the dense woods with the rushing in of
the armies and their firepower. The fallen dead, Indian and white
were left to lie as horses rode over and around them in pursuit of
those retreating. The Indians fought, and backed up, knowing the key
to any success they gained would be to get the militiamen into the
dense forest, and then stay alive until nightfall. This is where they
gained the edge, their advantage.
When night fell bathing them all in its shadows, the Indians, quiet
as the creatures of the night, stalked their prey, prowling within the
camp of the armies with the cover of darkness to shield them, stirring many cries from those suddenly attacked, unaware of their enemies upon them.
Bursts of light flared, flashing back and forth through the dark
around them as soldiers attempted to defend their camp from the
crawling sneak attacks. Too many men dozing were awakened with
the horror of having a blade glide across their throats, laying it open
before they could emit a scream or shout, as the slayer moved on to the next, or eased back
into cover while their life blood pooled beneath them.
Darkness evened the score for the Indians.
Eventually the light of dawn came and with it for the soldiers,, a counter
attack with them determined to kill all the braves they could,
praying to end the battle, then and there. Especially after seeing the grizzly truth of what the cover of
night had done to their numbers, with that in mind, the soldiers made
a full charge attack, shooting anything that moved, afraid that
this battle might rage on, forcing them through another
night, bringing out the silent killers.
Yet, even in the day, no matter how fast they were at reloading and shooting,
the Indians were quickest with the next arrow flying to pierce its target. For two days the battle raged with the score even until the
arrival of the cannon.
The
accuracy, power and efficacy of it worked to shatter
the cover of many braves, quickly diminishing their numbers as the troops now found themselves at an advantage over them. Many of the
warriors were crushed by fallen trees, others fatally pierced by splintering timber, more still shot and lay wounded as the white
militiamen ran to the fallen and attacked, stabbing them over and over
with their swords assuring their death. To the horror of many braves,
just as they decided to retreat and leave the area, more militiamen
arrived surrounding the area where there would be no escape for
them. What had started out as a war for the braves, ended up as a race to each ones survival, it was now every man for himself.
Again night had fallen. The army of militiamen refused to become victims in the dark, they walked the woods cautiously, knowing that soon the battle would be over. They patrolled in pairs with one carrying a
rifle, the other a flaming torch in one hand to light the way and a sword in
the other.
Red Crow stood with his back braced against a tree, hidden by darkness, his
hatchet firmly in one hand, his dagger clutched in the other. His body
poured sweat despite the brisk cold of the night that made him shiver on and off. His throat was dry. Noisily
his heart pounded in his ears, so loud he thought surely someone
might hear, mainly...the soldiers now stalking
them.
Despite his discomfort, he became part of the tree which concealed him as the soldiers approached from behind. He slowed his breathing to the point
of holding his breath and controlling the release of air, so afraid of blowing his cover.
His tingling instinct told him they were near... just
to hold still a moment more... the glow from the torch spread and would soon wash over him, exposing his position to them, timing
meant the difference between life or death.
'How many?'
He wondered, were coming up behind him at that
very moment.
To his left was a low flickering illumination of light from a torch, which he
knew meant a man there. It also meant a man was with him, behind
holding a rifle ready to fire. Praying that no one was coming up on his
right, he shifted his hatchet to ready, and turned his dagger ready to launch it. He slowly swallowed the gathering saliva, afraid that even
that sound might give him away. He caught a whisper on the wind, coming up behind him
as they cautiously stepped forward.
He drew in deeply and blew out slowly, afraid that the mist of his breathing would give his position away. He used his peripheral vision
to watch for the tip of the torch to come into sight; its carrier would
be the first to feel his sting.