Wild Thunder (7 page)

The cold fear that follows and finds you,
The silence that bludgeons you dumb.

—R
OBERT
S
ERVICE

 

 

 

Holding his hat at his side, Tiny Sharp stood before Colonel Patrick Deshong's desk at Fort Leavenworth. Chuck's other cowhands were standing at the back of the room, listening, as Tiny tried to explain the day's events that centered around Strong Wolf being accused of not only stealing dynamite and using it on a dam, but also of having possibly abducted Hannah.

While drumming his fingers on the top of his oak desk, the colonel glared up at Tiny with angry, impatient brown eyes. “Chief Strong Wolf uses reason before he acts,” he said. “He's a man of peace. He would not do anything foolish that could threaten the safety and well-being of his people.”

He laughed throatily. “Abduct a woman?” he said. “That isn't like him. You go and tell Chuck that his sister is probably enjoying her outing on horseback. Tell him that if she doesn't return by sunset, though, to come and tell me. I'll put together a search party for her. But until then, tell Chuck not to jump the gun. He's worrying too much.”

“That lady could even now be in the clutches of the Potawatomis,” Tiny said, placing his palms on the colonel's desk, to allow him to lean closer. “If anything happens to her, you'll be responsible.”

“Get your filthy hands off my desk,” Colonel Deshong said, leaning closer to Tiny. “And don't come in here mouthing off to me about who's responsible for what.”

Tiny eased his hands off the desk and straightened his back. “And are we to also ignore the damn fact that Strong Wolf stole the dynamite and threatened the countryside by settin' it off? A damn Injun don't know nothin' 'bout dynamite. If he'd miscalculated, not only the dam would be blown up, but half the human race in these parts.”

“You don't give the chief credit for much, now do you?” Colonel Deshong said, pouring tobacco into the bowl of a pipe from a small pouch.

“Why should I?” Tiny said, plopping his hat back on his head. “But I see I'm wastin' my time here. You don't give a damn 'bout anythin' much except yourself and the comforts of your soldiers here at the fort.”

He swung a frustrated hand in the air. “Let the damn redskins take over everything,” he shouted. “See if I care.”

As Tiny and the men stamped from the colonel's cabin, they could hear him laughing behind them. Tiny turned with doubled fists as the colonel followed them outside, puffing on his pipe.

Colonel Deshong slipped the pipe from between his lips. “Tiny, do you want to know what I really think about what you told me today?” he said, his eyes dancing with amusement.

“Don't think I do,” Tiny said, turning again to stamp away.

“I think you made it all up in an attempt to get Strong Wolf in trouble,” Colonel Deshong shouted, not one to give up that easily when he had not yet said his piece. “Be sure the next time you come to the fort, it's not with tall tales that take up my precious time.”

Tiny swung himself into his saddle. He grabbed up his reins as he waited for the rest of the men to mount their steeds. He glowered at the colonel, then wheeled his horse around and rode off in a hard gallop through the tall gate of the palisade walls that encircled the fort.

“He'll be sorry!” Tiny said as he looked over at Clem, his best buddy and partner in mischief. “No one gets away with talking to me that way.”

“There ain't much we can do about it,” Clem said. He reached a hand and scratched at the stubble of whiskers on his chin. “The colonel is pretty much in charge in these parts.”

“Well, he may be in charge, but I don't take to being ignored,
and
being accused of saying things that ain't true,” Tiny shouted, raising a fist in the air.

“Again I say, Tiny, there ain't much we can do about it,” Clem said, sinking his heels into the flanks of his horse to catch up with Tiny again, when Tiny raced on ahead of him.

“What am I to tell Chuck?” Tiny said as Clem sidled his horse closer to Tiny's. “He was genuinely worried about his sister. What if she
has
been abducted? Chuck'll have my hide for not convincing the colonel to go and search for her at the Injun village.”

“Perhaps we should go on to the village ourselves and take a look,” Clem said, again itching his whiskered chin, a habit when he was nervous.

“Naw, I don't want to risk that,” Tiny said, his eyes squinting as he tried to make decisions that would work in his favor. “There ain't much love between me and that Injun leader. He'd as soon shoot me as look at me.”

He laughed into the wind. “Especially over that dam,” he said.

“You're lucky Chuck didn't have your hide over that,” Clem said, now resting his one hand on the butt of his holstered pistol. “You should've removed the dam. Chuck was adamant about that, Tiny.”

“Well, I was just as adamant about keepin' it where we built it,” Tiny spat out angrily.

“But you knew that Strong Wolf wouldn't stand for that dam bein' there,” Clem argued back.

“I had to take a chance of him bein' too much of a coward to remove it,” Tiny said. “He's known for his peaceful ways, ain't he? Well, who's to say he might have been too afraid of stirrin' up trouble by removin' the dam. It was a chance worth takin'.”

“Yeah, and it could've cost you your job,” Clem said, laughing sarcastically.

Tiny glowered over at him. “I'm too valuable to Chuck for him to fire me,” he said thickly. “He may have brought his sister to Kansas, but damn it all to hell, Clem, I'm the ‘eyes' he truly needs. I'm the one who knows how to take care of the journal entries. His sister doesn't. I keep our men in line. His sister doesn't. And I know the land, every inch of it. His sister doesn't.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” Clem said, then strained his neck when he saw someone approaching them in the distance.

He nodded at Tiny. “Ain't that a Potawatomis brave headin' our way?” he said, pointing.

“Yeah, I believe so,” Tiny said, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “And would you look at the meat and pelts on the travois he's draggin' behind his horse? I'd say his hunt went quite well today, wouldn't you?”

“Much better'n ours,” Clem growled out, chuckling.

Tiny looked over his shoulder at the other cowhands. “Want to have some fun?” he shouted, yanking his rifle from the gun boot at the side of his horse.

Everyone shouted and nodded. They hollered and whooped as they waved their rifles in the air.

“You aren't going to kill him, are you?” Clem said, hesitating at taking his own firearm in hand.

“Naw, but when we get through with him, he'll wish he
was
dead,” Tiny said, laughing throatily. He looked over his shoulder again. “Come on, men. Follow my lead. It's been awhile since we've had such an opportunity as this. The damn Injun should've known better than to go hunting by himself. He's at the mercy of
Tiny Sharp
.”

“What
are
you going to do, Tiny?” Clem asked, still hesitant about joining the others.

“Are you with us, or ain't you?” Tiny said, giving Clem a threatening scowl.

“I'm with you all the way,” Clem said, seeing that he had no choice.

“What's got into you today, Clem?” Tiny asked as they thundered onward toward the Indian who had taken notice of them and had turned his horse and travois around, in an attempt to get away.

But the weight of the travois stopped a hasty enough retreat. It was heavy with butchered meat and pelts that had been taken from the animals that the brave had killed today.

“It just seems like we get closer and closer to bein' found out by Chuck,” Clem said, finally lifting his rifle from his gun boot. “We take chances every time we do something that ain't proper. Take the dam for example. Damn it, Tiny, we should've destroyed it and gone on about our business. All I'm interested in is my paycheck. Nothin' more.”

“You can't tell me that your heart ain't pumpin' a hundred miles an hour at the thought of havin' fun at this here Injun's expense, now, can you?” Tiny said, laughing into the wind when Clem smiled over at him.

“I thought not,” Tiny said, then leaned lower over his horse as he rode in a faster gallop toward the Indian.

When he felt that he was close enough, he straightened his back, raised the rifle into the air, and fired off a warning shot to the Indian.

Tiny laughed boisterously when the Indian stopped and leapt from his saddle and began running away from the advancing men on foot.

“You'd better stop or I'll blow your damn head off!” Tiny shouted at him.

The Indian stopped with a start, turned slowly around, then stood with a stubbornly lifted chin and glared at Tiny as he halted his horse only a few feet away.

“Why do you stop me?” the Potawatomis brave asked, holding his hands away from his sides, so that the men could see that he wasn't going for his sheathed knife at his right side.

Tiny looked over his shoulder. “Bring his horse and travois of meat over here!” he shouted at his men. “We've some meat inspectin' to do.”

Tiny was aglow inside at this opportunity to get back at Strong Wolf by being able to take his anger out on one of his braves. It had not taken long for Tiny to decide that if the soldiers refused to make Strong Wolf pay for having stolen his dynamite and for having blown up the dam, then it was up to Tiny to do what he could.

And to hell with Hannah, he thought to himself,
wherever
she was. It served her right if she was lost. The stubborn bitch. Tiny saw her as just a mite too big for her breeches. The way she rode horses, she was unlike any lady he had ever seen. And she had a mouth on her that could scald a cat!

“What are we to do now?” Clem said, wrenching Tiny from his deep thoughts.

Tiny slid from his saddle as the Indian horse and travois were brought closer. He patted the horse, ran his hand over the animal's withers, then went back and knelt down beside the travois.

He studied the meat and pelts. For just one man, this Indian had been lucky at hunting. Tiny imagined that this meat was for the brave's family. The pelts were either for trading, or to be used for the comfort of the brave's family during the upcoming wretched months of winter.

He pushed himself back up from the ground. With his rifle clasped tightly, he went to the brave who was dressed in only a breechclout and moccasins. He turned and gazed at his men.

“We have us a thief in our midst!” he shouted. “This Injun is guilty as sin of stealin'.”

“Bird in Ground is no thief,” Bird in Ground said, his dark eyes wide with surprise over having been wrongly accused.

Tiny turned slow eyes to the brave. “Bird . . . in . . . Ground . . . ?” he said, then mocked the Indian by saying his name over and over again.

Then Tiny sobered and leaned into the Indian's face. “I've heard of strange names before, but this one takes the cake,” he said, chuckling.

Tiny turned his rifle around and jabbed the Indian's stomach with the butt end. “You thief,” he hissed out. “Don't you know those were my hogs you killed today?”

He was amused by the expression on the Indian's face at the mention of hogs. Tiny didn't own a hog, or cattle. The time would come, though, when he would own everything that was now Chuck Kody's.

But only if he played his cards right.
And
if he could figure out what to do about Hannah. He hoped that she
was
lost today. He hoped that panthers, wolves, or wild hogs would get her and rid his life of at least this one complication.

“Hogs?” Bird in Ground said, trying to bear the pain that the rifle had inflicted on his gut. “I hunt and kill deer today. I kill raccoons. I kill muskrats. Not hogs.” He gestured toward the travois. “Do you not see the pelts? Hogs have no pelts.”

“You are not only a thief, but also a skilled liar!” Tiny said, slapping the Indian across his face with the back of his hand.

“Clem, get the Injun's rifle from his horse,” Tiny said, watching a trickle of blood flow from the Indian's nose.

Clem did as he was told.

“Clem, shoot the rifle into the air,” Tiny said, now watching blood trickle across the Indian's lips and into his mouth. Yet the Indian stood stoic and stiff, looking straight ahead.

Clem fired off the rifle, frightening Bird in Ground's horse away, the travois stumbling along after it, rocking precariously from side to side.

“No!” Bird in Ground cried. He broke into a run, to go after his horse. But he did not get far. Tiny ran after him and tackled him.

As Tiny held Bird in Ground down, he looked up at his men. “After I stand up away from him, don't allow this son of a bitch to get to his feet,” he said, his eyes flashing. “You know what must be done to keep him there.”

Tiny rose away from Bird in Ground. The cowhands circled around the brave. Some hit him with the butts of their rifles. Some kicked him. Others hit him with their fists. They did not stop until he lost consciousness.

When they stepped away from him, Tiny's lips quavered into a smug smile at of the blood over the Indian's body. “That'll teach Strong Wolf to mess with me,” he said, giving one last kick to Bird in Ground's side.

Bird in Ground groaned. His eyes slowly fluttered open. He gazed over at Tiny as Tiny knelt down beside him.