Sweet Savage Heart (26 page)

“I know you’ll miss them, Rana, but don’t be angry because we’re taking you home where you belong.”

She looked over at Nathan and smiled. She was glad he felt she belonged with them. “I willingly go where the Great Spirit leads.”

When Travis joined them to eat, he teased, “I see Nate’s been talking your ears off again. He’s just excited about having a woman in the house again. I think he’s’ forgotten how much trouble they can be.”

“Women give trouble only when they must,” she retorted.

“To get their own ways,” Travis slyly came back at her, then grinned devilishly. He sipped his coffee, eyeing her over the cup’s rim.

“Do you not use clever words and deeds to get your way?”

Nathan chuckled. “She’s got you there, son. This girl is smart and quick. She’s going to keep us on our toes.”

Travis sighed dramatically. “I’m sure of that, Nate.”

When Rana excused herself to prepare for bed, Travis cautioned, “Watch what you say about Marissa, and don’t mention the Kiowa attack. She could panic and bolt. Just a few more days, and I’ll tell her everything.”

“I’ll be careful, son, but I sure am eager for her to learn she’s my granddaughter. She’s really settled down, hasn’t she?”

“Yep, and I hate to have to upset her again.” Travis did not tell Nathan that he hoped it was not an act on her part to disarm them. He knew what wily deceivers and artful pretenders women could be.

The following morning, Travis ordered Nathan and Rana to hang back while he checked the area where they would cross the Mormon Trail. As far as he could see in any direction, there was no one in sight. Satisfied, he rode back for Rana and Nathan. They were forced to go several miles out of the way to skirt a large lake and to find a place to ford the North Platte River. After riding on for miles and fording the South Platte River, they eventually came to the Oregon Trail. Again Travis told them to wait for his signal as he rode away to scout the area.

This time, Travis was gone for over an hour, causing Nathan and Rana concern over his safety. When he did return, they openly showed their relief, then noted that he was carrying several items of interest. Travis
dismounted and dropped his findings on the ground. Rana and Nathan came forward to question him, curiously looking at the strange pile of possessions.

“There was trouble over there and not too long ago from the look of things. Four wagons were attacked by Cheyenne warriors. They were chased off by soldiers, probably from Fort Smith. They all left in a big hurry ‘cause there wasn’t any burial detail around and the Indians didn’t recover their dead. They don’t need these things anymore, so I took them. Rana, see if any of the clothes will fit you. If we meet up with other soldiers, it’ll be best if you aren’t dressed like that. Might inspire too many questions and too much time to answer them.”

Rana sank to her knees while she and Travis looked through the dresses, shirts, pants, and shoes he had taken from three of the wagons. When they found several garments that seemed to be close to her size, Travis told her to change into them while he packed the others.

“She might have need of these pants and shirt later, so we’ll keep them. You take these, Nate. Extra weapons might come in handy if one of ours breaks or we need some trade goods.”

Nathan placed a pistol and ammunition in his saddlebag, Travis concealed another knife in his right boot, and each secured a rifle to his saddle.

When Rana returned, her nose was crinkled in dismay and she was walking clumsily.

“What’s wrong?” Travis inquired.

“The dress is fine, but the moccasins do not feel good.”

“Shoes, Rana,” he gently corrected her. “Let me check them.” He looked and felt around each one, determining that they were slightly large. “Sit down,” he instructed, then wrapped torn strips of material around her feet before putting on the shoes again. “That’ll have to do until I can buy you a better pair. You said you could
use a bow and arrows, didn’t you?” When she nodded, he handed them to her and said, “Keep these in case you need them later. Take this too,” he added, handing her a larger knife in a fancily carved sheath. “When we get time, I’ll teach you how to handle a gun and you can have the one I just gave Nate.” He ripped off a ribbon from a dress that was too large for her and cut it in half. “Here. Tie your braids with these. Soldiers might wonder about those Lakota rosettes. Better hide that
wanapin
too. Let’s get moving before those Cheyenne or the soldiers return.” He packed the few supplies he had taken, then they mounted and rode away, leaving the discarded items behind.

Each day the weather became warmer and the days longer. When they camped on June ninth, Travis scouted the area thoroughly, then remained on full alert. Twice he left camp just to “take one more look around.”

During the next two days, Travis ordered a more cautious pace, knowing they were only a few days’ ride from Fort Kearny, the object of Crazy Horse’s destructive design. They were too far out for hay gatherers or woodcutters from the fort, but not for patrols, especially during such intimidating times. Having learned that the Sioux and Cheyenne were determined to recover this area from the soldiers and homesteaders had made Travis wary and tense. He knew he could defend himself and escape danger, but he had Nathan and Rana to protect. He felt as if he were escorting them through a prairie fire with so much smoke that he could not accurately and swiftly determine which trail would lead to safety.

Sensing his concern as they sat around the fire that night, Rana coaxed, “Do not worry. We will reach home safety.” Then, before she could stop herself, she asked, “Why did you leave your mother’s camp and people? Did
your heart feel strange stirrings returning to these lands?”

Travis focused his keen gaze across the river and nodded. Tomorrow they would be in Kansas, a day closer to the truth. “I know how much the Lakotas want to drive the white man from their lands. It cannot be, Rana, for they are strong and many and they have weapons that can slay a whole tribe or destroy an entire camp in a few hours.” He did not tell her how the soldiers were using the six-year-old Gatling Gun, powerful cannons from the recent war, and dynamite, a new weapon that had been discovered last year, in order to drive the Indians off their ancestral lands and kill any resistors.

“I’ve lived with the white man and I know his power and greed. These lands must be shared, or the Lakotas will be pushed aside or killed. My mother’s people have hunted on these lands for more winters than I can count. Her father, and her father’s father, and his father have fought and died here; they are buried on the sacred mountain. Children have played and learned here. Victories have been celebrated. Enemies have been conquered and driven away. Laughter and songs have filled the air. This land is the Lakotas’, and that too must pass. Once Grandfather smiled on his children; He gave us plenty to eat and protected us. Many times I rode into battle and returned with great honor. Then the white man came and wanted what was ours. Now the Lakotas must relent and change, or die. My words and fighting would change nothing, so it would be foolish to sacrifice my life for a battle already lost when the white man first set his eyes and heart on this land. My sons must be born free, where they can claim land to hunt and raise children and die in peace, a land where they will not be shamed for their mixed blood.”

When he glanced at her, she was watching him with a tender expression that charged through him like a bolt of
lightning. There was a deep, dreamy stare in her eyes that said she would withhold nothing from him. “I’ll go check on the horses,” he stated quickly, wondering why he was pouring out such private feelings and thoughts to her.

Rana grasped his arm to halt him. “Do not pull within yourself, Travis. How can I know you if you shield such feelings from me? You keep much a prisoner inside when there is comforting freedom outside. Is it wrong to share such feelings with your… sister?”

“Not wrong, Rana, just hard. I’ve never talked with anyone like this except Nate. Get some rest; it’s late.”

Rana watched Travis’s defensive retreat, then turned to Nathan. “He carries much pain and many secrets inside his heart. Why did he leave his mother’s people? Why did she marry a white-eyes?”

“I think it would be best if Travis answered those questions, Rana. The Indians gave him a hard time because he was a half-breed. That boy was hurt deeply and it isn’t easy for him to talk about the past. If those Hunkpapas hadn’t rejected him, he would still be a warrior. I’m glad they did, ‘cause he would be fighting a losing battle. That’s why we couldn’t leave you there. If them Indians don’t make truce with the white man, it’s over for them, and Travis said they won’t.”

Lines of sadness marked her face. “He spoke the truth, Nate. My people will die before they yield their lands to the white-eyes.”

“Your people are white, Rana,” he gently reminded her.

“Only by birth. The Oglalas raised me and loved me, and my heart belongs with them. I was taught to hate and mistrust white-eyes, but I do not feel this way about you and Travis. I do not understand this, but I accept it. Where we go, are the white-eyes as you are?”

“It’s like with Lone Wolf and Black Hawk, Rana; there’re good and bad whites, like good and bad Indians.
But don’t you worry none. You got me and Travis to take care of you. We’ll be a family again.”

Rana looked off toward the woods into which Travis had vanished. She went over his words and Nathan’s as she drifted off to sleep. Sometimes she had trouble understanding their meanings, as when Nathan had spoken of “a family again.” She knew she would have to listen carefully and work hard on her English before she reached their home.

Rana realized now how fortunate she had been that Soaring Hawk had captured and for several years had enslaved a white school teacher. She had been a spirited, resilient woman who had taught Rana many things, including the importance of having an independent, bold nature, which had proven so vexing to the men in her life. For now, she would not reveal the extent of her knowledge, for she felt she could learn a great deal about Travis and Nathan as they attempted to teach her what they thought she should know.

The next morning, they resumed a similar travel pattern. Just before their noon break to rest and eat, Travis detected signs that seized his attention. He moved off to have a closer look, leaving Rana and Nathan camped near Beaver Creek. He had chosen a spot where the creek grew wide and deep and was banked heavily on one side by trees, which would provide cover during his absence. He knew the Indian tracks he had spotted were fresh, and he wanted to trail the party for awhile to make certain they had not stopped nearby or were doubling back. Less than thirty minutes after Travis’s departure, trouble struck.

Rana had been about to excuse herself when, through the underbrush, she saw the band of crudely dressed soldiers dismounting and making signals about surrounding
their camp. Her heart pounded in fear, for she realized that soldiers would not attack other whites unless they were evil men bent on evil deeds. Evidently they had either sighted them farther back and had trailed them here or they had discovered their fresh trail and had tracked them to this point.

She hurried back to where Nathan was sipping his coffee and shook his arm frantically.

“Bad men come, Nate. We must prepare to fight. They sneak around us in the trees. This many,” she told him, holding up seven fingers. “They carry short and long guns. I believe they plan to attack us.”

Nathan tossed the cup aside and grabbed his rifle and ammunition from his horse. “Get behind those rocks and stay down,” he ordered as he led his horse around the rocks to drop his reins near the creek bank.

Rana did the same with her beloved Cloud, then seized her bow and arrows before concealing herself. The large creek was at their backs, but trees that could offer the villains cover grew before and on either side of them. Anxiously she waited with Nathan.

A voice called out, “Just give us what money and valuables you have, then we’ll be on our way. Ain’t no need to fight and die here.”

Nathan caught glimpses of dirty uniforms as the men fanned out before them, and he realized they were probably deserters. He knew the Army ranks were filled with men who were dodging justice, men who sought vengeance for the outcome of Mister Lincoln’s war, and men who had been toughened by frontier perils and hardships and were conscience dead from years of fighting and killing. Still, he had to try to bluff them. He shouted in return, “You best git, boys. Soldiers will be here any minute now, and you don’t want them to find you attacking and robbing innocent folks. Besides, we ain’t got no money to give you.”

‘Then we’ll take your horses and guns,” the voice responded.

“And leave us afoot and weaponless in Injun territory? No way.”

“Then we’ll have to come and take ‘em,” the voice replied smugly.

“Then, by God, you try it!” Nathan called out bravely, knowing it was fight or die, or worse for his granddaughter once these men got a look at her. He prayed Travis would return soon but knew he couldn’t count on it. He glanced at Rana, who had dumped the arrows from the quiver and now had one poised for release. She smiled at him, warming his heart with her show of confidence and courage. “You know how to use it?” he asked.

“I can outshoot most warriors. I will help you battle them. We must fight or die. The Great Spirit will protect us and guide our aim.”

Nathan grinned, for her words did not sound boastful, just honest. “Then let’s give ‘em a fight they’ll remember.”

When Nathan spotted movement to his side, he aimed and fired, winging and angering one of the men. Gunshots came from several directions at once. Nathan and Rana ducked their heads and waited for it to cease or slacken. The bullets glanced off the rocks with “pings” and “zings,” sending broken chips flying here and there.

Rana peered around one rock, took aim, and caught her target in the center of his chest. She quickly seized another arrow and placed its nock on the bowstring. Since she had only six arrows, she would have to make each one count. She cautioned herself to be patient and alert. When she saw a man racing from one tree to another, she dropped to one knee beside the rock and fired at him, then swiftly flung herself behind the rock before the rapid firing of more bullets could strike her. From the man’s scream of pain, she knew she had at least
wounded him. She laughed happily, then reminded herself that this was not a game she played.