And One Rode West (27 page)

“Stampede!” someone yelled again in warning.

The earth didn’t tremble—it shook.

Christa knew the feel of cannon fire and the feel of shot. She even knew the feel of the earth when hundreds or thousands of men were marching over it.

She had never felt anything like this. It was as if the whole world was giving away. The noise of it began to rise. It had started off sounding so low that she had barely heard it, and then it grew and grew. It was becoming a whirl, a cacophony of rhythmic pounding, a force that knew no bounds.

She was so absorbed with it that she was startled when Tilly suddenly reared high, letting out a snort of terror. She just barely brought the horse under control, her eyes meeting her husband’s. “You!” His finger leveled at her. “I told you not to be riding in the front!”

“I—” she started to argue, but she could see them coming now, just over his shoulder.

They were horrible, they were magnificent. They came in a wave of brown and black, in a cloud of dirt and earth they kicked up in their frantic run. They looked like a swarm of locusts descended upon the plain, except that they were massive. Such strange creatures! Their heads so large, their shoulders huge,
and their legs seeming so spindly to hold that bulky weight! But hold it they did. The creatures raced. Their great heads downward and butted forward, they ran with amazing speed and amazing dexterity. Beneath them and around them the earth continued to move. Great billowing clouds of dirt and dust rose and rushed before them, around them, and in their wake.

Indeed, they had changed the very landscape! It had been a simple plain, dry and dusty, with tufts of grass here and there, low, lonely foliage, and a blue sky overhead. The plain ran flat except for a ridge here and there, such as the one they stood on. Undulating only slightly, with that soft roll beneath the sun and blue sky, the place had seemed secure, serene.

Until the buffalo had begun to move.

More dangerous than any storm, more merciless in their mindless rush. The sky had turned gray; the sun was gone. The sound was becoming deafening.

Nothing could move them! Christa thought. Nothing could stop or move them. And anything caught in their path would be brutally, horribly crushed and broken beneath them. A man or woman would be left in torn and bloody pieces.

She moistened her dry lips, her eyes wide when she glanced at Jeremy again.

He wasn’t in awe of the creatures—he was angry with her. Sitting atop Gemini—the well-trained cavalry horse who had carried him through the duration of the war—he rode with his customary easy grace, barely aware of the animal beneath him. This was his command.

The massive animals charging toward them were his concern.

“Get back!” he ordered her, his eyes blazing silver. “All the way back where you were told to ride!” He turned from her, a yellow-gauntleted hand raised to the whole of the company behind them.

“They’ll be over the rise in a matter of minutes!” he called. His arm was moving in a circle, ordering the company back against its left flank. “Major Brooks! Hold the lead steady here, I’ll bring in the rear. Not a horse, mule, or beast forward!”

He nudged Gemini and the experienced war horse moved forward. Christa hadn’t had a chance to move; she had that chance now. Jeremy caught hold of Tilly’s reins. He pulled her along behind him as he rode down the length of the ranks, shouting out his orders. Christa felt like a punished child, being dragged along.

But she also felt the keen edge of fear. All around her the noise of the stampede grew. Hundreds and thousands of buffalo were coming their way, climbing over rises, dipping into valleys. The air was already filled with dust and dirt, and the earth continued to tremble and shake as if it would disintegrate at any moment.

They galloped down the line of the men. Jeremy was making no attempt to move the whole of his column of men, horses, and wagons. Instead, he lined them in a narrow band just beneath the butt of the ridge, hard to the left flank. At the tail end of it, he released her reins, jumped down from his horse, and lifted her from Tilly. He thrust her toward Robert Black Paw, who, with Nathaniel, was helping calm a pair of mules.

Robert took her instinctively. “Get her below the ridge!” Jeremy commanded.

He leapt back up atop Gemini. Christa pulled from the Indian’s hold, dismayed by the fear that surged through her. “Jeremy—”

But he had turned his horse and was riding hard down the line again at a full gallop.

“What’s he doing?” she demanded miserably.

“He’s going to see that the lead animals steer clear of our line,” he told her.

“He’s going to go out there? In front of them? That’s insane! He’ll be killed.” She started to struggle.

Robert Black Paw held her back. “No! Come, Mrs. McCauley, down below the ridge.”

She had no choice. Robert Black Paw dragged her stiff body down beneath the knoll of the rise and close against it. She was sheltered here from the swirl of dust and dirt. But the noise of the buffalo’s pounding footfalls seemed all the more increased. Horses were screaming now in panic; the men were shouting, trying to hold them, to calm them.

Jeremy continued to ride straight toward the stampeding herd.

“My God, let me go! What is he doing! He’s got to come back!” she cried, struggling against Robert.

He held her politely, but firmly. Robert Black Paw took his orders from her husband well, Christa thought bitterly. If he’d been shot dead, he’d die holding her tight!

But he was a good man, too, she knew. And if his hold was rigid, his words were gentle and reassuring. “He knows what he’s doing. He’s ridden these trails before.”

“He’s not a rock! A buffalo will crush him—”

“Watch!”

Robert pointed a finger past her nose. Over the ridge of earth at her side she could see the path that the buffalo were running. Their narrow line offered the buffalo a wide path. They were beginning to arrive, with just a few of the strays edging to the side. Then she saw Jeremy. At the least, he wasn’t alone. Two of his officers were with him. They were waving brightly colored blankets and making almost enough noise to be heard above the stampede.

Christa’s heart seemed to fly to her throat. One of the massive creatures had veered Jeremy’s way. To her
astonishment, Jeremy started to ride down on it, hard, headed for a collision.

A cry escaped her.

But at the last moment the creature turned and ran toward the clear path, and those behind it followed suit.

She sank back against Robert. She hadn’t felt ill in a long time now, but she was suddenly afraid she was going to lose everything she had consumed for the last two weeks.

She heard a shot and jumped in panic, leaping away from Robert.

“What is it? What’s happened now?” she cried out.

Smiling, Robert Black Paw set his hands on his hips. “There’ll be fresh meat for supper tonight, Mrs. McCauley. Your husband brought down one of the last of them.” He hopped up the short distance to stand atop the ridge again. He reached down a hand to her.

As she crawled atop it, the world around her seemed to be split by a cacophony of noise once again.

The buffalo were gone. The earth was still trembling slightly, as if the aftermath of some great cataclysm. The buffalo were still running, but far past them now. In their wake gray dirt and dust followed them like a windstorm.

Closer to her immediate vicinity, the noise was caused by the pick-up measures necessary after the stampede. One of the wagons had fallen over and a group of soldiers was righting it. Some of the horses had run off and Jeremy was now giving orders to men to go after them. The columns were re-forming. Sergeant Jaffe—Jeremy’s favorite among the company cooks—was busy supervising men over the buffalo carcass.

Robert Black Paw, his duty to her ended, was leading a pair of mules and a wagon back onto the trail. Jeremy was still riding around giving orders. Christa
saw that Tilly had held her head and remained nearby, and was now eating up little pieces of grass from the stampede. Christa caught hold of her reins and mounted her horse. She cantered over to the buffalo.

She felt sorry to see the great creature down. Close up, the head seemed even more ridiculously large in comparison to the body. Except that its eyes were tiny in that huge face, and part of the reason the head seemed so big was that it was covered with shaggy fur. Alone and downed it didn’t seem such a menace. A streak of pity danced through her. It was an ugly beast, but in some curious way it was beautiful, too, by simple virtue of its magnificent size and power.

“Now, don’t go feeling sorry for it, Mrs. McCauley!” Sergeant Jaffe told her. “Rations can get mighty lean out here, and the way I see it there ain’t nothing like starving through winter! God put these creatures out here to feed us all. Don’t you go turning up your pretty nose at buffalo meat!”

From her seat atop Tilly, Christa shook her head. She could have told him that she had watched a whole nation almost starve, but she kept her silence.

“I’m sure the meat will be wonderful,” she murmured. “It’s just—rather sad, for some reason!”

“Yes!” Jaffe said, cocking his head toward her. “It’s always sad to see something so damned strong brought down. Don’t know quite what it is myself, but I understand what you’re feeling.” He grinned. “Still, when it’s either him or me, then I’m mighty glad it’s him!”

She shivered suddenly, inching Tilly toward him. “Sergeant Jaffe, do stampedes happen often? We must be moving more deeply into buffalo territory and—”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head none, Mrs. McCauley. We keep our eyes open. It’s strange though. You can ride up on a ridge and see a few buffalo grazing on the plain just as nice and peaceful as can be. Then you can see one or two of them running and you
don’t know if you’ve come across a couple of strays, or if you’ll have a couple hundred thousand racing at you in a matter of minutes!”

“I’m sure my wife will rest well after that!”

Christa swung around. Jeremy had come up behind them. His hat was low over his head. She couldn’t see his eyes. She was certain that he was still angry with her.

After last night, she felt as if a wall had risen between them, higher than ever before. Upon occasion, it had seemed as if they just might broach the barriers between them. Now those barriers seemed more insurmountable than ever.

On top of that, she thought wryly, she had disobeyed his orders to ride behind the front of the line.

She tore her gaze from his, determined to ignore him. He’d have his chance to chastise her as soon as they were alone.

Jaffe was apologizing profusely. “Didn’t mean nothing by that, Mrs. McCauley, except that we keep our eyes open and our ears to the ground.”

Jeremy led Gemini close to the fallen buffalo. “How are we going to make out with this one, Sergeant?”

“Right fine. We’ll have buffalo stew and buffalo steak! Dried buffalo and smoked buffalo! We’ll make out right fine. Good shot, Colonel.”

“Thanks. See to it that my wife has some tender cuts. We’ve got a general riding in with an escort of officers, and I think we’ll do a little private entertaining in my tent. And if you don’t mind, Sergeant, she might need a little instruction. We’ll be laying over for a few days, making camp, so you’ll have some time tonight to deal with the kill. So will my wife.”

Christa felt a soft wave of color touch her cheeks. He was making it sound as if she were the most worthless of fluttering belles. How could he! He knew damned well she’d managed with all manner of meat and meals
before. The war had taught her an amazing array of crafts. She’d done just fine with his quail.

But then again, “the general” was arriving? This was the first she had heard of it. What general? Captain Clark must have brought the message that someone was coming.

What in God’s name made Jeremy think she was about to entertain any Yankee general? She had done exceptionally well, she thought, living with Yankees up to this point! She’d been polite, she’d even been friendly with Celia and James, Robert Black Paw and Nathaniel—and Captain Clark.

Jeremy didn’t intend to give her any explanations now. He wagged a finger at her. “You’ll ride at the back, with Robert at your side. If you don’t, I’ll take Tilly and set you into an ambulance and that will be that. Do you understand?”

She saluted him sharply. “Yes, sir!”

Gemini pranced forward. Jeremy adjusted his sweeping cavalry hat. “You are quite all right, I take it?”

“Fine.”

“Then perhaps you’ll be so good as to see to some of the other wives. Celia is shaking like a leaf, they say, and her husband is at his post.”

“Yes, sir, Colonel, sir!” she responded. Jeremy didn’t give a damn about her sarcasm. He didn’t care how she obeyed his orders, just so long as she did. But the sarcasm in her reply was not lost on Sergeant Jaffe. He looked at her rather sorrowfully when Jeremy rode away, convinced that his order would be obeyed this time.

“I’ll make you a cloak out of this here hide!” Jaffe told her. “Why, you just wait and see! It’ll be the most wonderful warm thing you’ve ever owned, Mrs. McCauley.”

“That’s very kind of you, Sergeant,” she told him.
She didn’t know if he meant the words or if he was just trying to make her feel better.

She smiled, waved a hand to him, and rode from the scene of the buffalo kill. Jeremy had asked her to see to the other wives. She cantered along the line until she came to Celia’s ambulance. The young girl was shaking away and her husband, at her side, was looking very helpless, loath to leave her.

Christa dismounted and came to the rear of the conveyance. She offered Lieutenant Preston a reassuring smile.

“Celia, look who’s here. Mrs. McCauley.”

Celia released her death grip on him at last. Lieutenant Preston leapt down from the ambulance, thanking Christa with his eyes.

“Celia, come on now!” she said. “It’s all over!”

“It was terrible!” Celia moaned. “Why, the ambulance almost turned. I saw your husband—oh, how could you bear it!”

“It’s all right now, Celia, I swear it!” her husband said.

Christa was startled by the tug of envy that touched her. Preston was so tender, so caring of his wife!