Blood Feather (5 page)

Addie and Sophia, the two youngest daughters, were ignored by the Comanches and wandered about on the prairie for a while. But they were finally recaptured by the band.

In the fall, Company D, 5th Infantry, discovered the tribe, which numbered almost two hundred warriors and their families. The soldiers attacked and captured the village along McClellan Creek and repelled numerous counter charges by the Comanches by overwhelming them with their howitzer cannon. The great moment was when they found the two little German daughters—naked, emaciated, but alive in the village. The Comanches were sent on a rapid retreat and the cavalry eventually gave up pursuit.

After the attack on Adobe Walls, the U.S. government had had enough with the attacks on settlers and decided to launch mutipronged attacks in the Red River, Palo Duro, and other areas, primarily in the Texas Panhandle region, to stop the attacks. The most clever and tactically tough leader of all the Plains tribe fighting was Comanche Chief Quanah Parker, whose mother was white. Therefore, he was very fluent in English and was very intelligent.

Lucky said, “General Phillip Sheridan spoke at length weeth Pinkerton about this, and Allan told him about you having a white mother and red father.”

“So,” Joshua said, “Mr. Pinkerton wants me to try to set up a parlay with Quanah Parker and see if I can convince him to stop fighting and try reservation living?”

“Exactly!” Lucky replied. “Zey feel that if he stops fighting, the rest will soon follow.”

The door of the café opened, and a slender, wrinkled, bent-over old cowboy walked in with a short white beard. A rolled cigarette dangled from his mouth and his eyes swept the room. Annabelle rushed across the room, a big smile on her face, and gave him a big hug. He put his hand up with a wave and ambled over toward Joshua and Lucky. The three shook hands and he sat down.

“Zach Banta,” Strongheart said. “What brings you to Cañon City? Long trip from Cotopaxi.”

The old man signaled Annabelle over and patted the chair next to him. The three men rose as she sat down.

When they'd sat again, Banta looked at each of the others slowly and replied, “Wal, I looked at the shelves in my store and most items seemed lonesome. Had a couple mice come outta holes, put their front paws on their hips, and kinda stare at me. Seemed right angry, I reckon. I figgered it was time ta go ta town and git some supplies.”

The other three chuckled.

Annabelle said, “Zachariah Banta, you devil you. You forgot to mention that you have spies all over Fremont County and wanted to know whenever Joshua got out of the hospital and came here.”

The oldster never missed a beat. “I reckon that's so. Look at me. I'm old. I wanted some young pup here ta load my supplies fer me. Other day, some old boy come inta Cotopaxi and compliments me on my fancy cowboy boots made outta alligator hide he reckoned. I told him, ‘Mister. I ain't wearing boots. Ahm in mah bare feet.'”

The group laughed uproariously while Zach carefully built another cigarette.

The four spoke at some length, but Joshua Strongheart, though polite, was already formulating his plans. He and Lucky mounted up and followed Zach's buckboard to the mercantile building not far down Main Street. They loaded Joshua's supplies into the wagon.

Then they rode west on Main Street as Joshua returned his horse to a large brick building with a gable front and two large signs reading
G MAKLEY AND CO BLACKSMITH
and
ELKHORN FEED STABLE.
The building was joined by a large corral.

Lucky paid for the horses, and Joshua told the hostler he would escort Lucky to the stage depot and bring the mounts back. They rode south over toward the river and the depot.

Lucky briefed Joshua a little more and told him he could charge whatever he wanted or get reimbursed for anything by the Pinkerton Agency in regards to hunting down Blackjack's killer and effecting a rendezvous with Quanah Parker.

Lucky cautioned, “You must stay with the modern times. Take zee train with your horse as often as you can. Eet will be much faster, and you do not have to worry about money.”

Joshua smiled, saying, “Yes, Ma.”

Lucky laughed and said seriously, “And whatever you do, do not drink again.”

Joshua smiled.

He replied, “Boss, I have not had a drink since that time you bailed me out of jail in Wyoming Territory. I will not drink again.”

As he rode back toward the livery leading Lucky's horse, he thought back to the last time he drank. He could not remember the horrible beating he gave to three men or his arrest. He awakened in jail and found out he had tried to defend the honor of a dance hall chippy who was simply enticing prospective customers. Joshua knew then that he had become a mean drunk and was apparently affected by alcohol consumption the way many Indians were. Although he was not happy with Joshua at all, Lucky took care of it. And Joshua vowed he would never touch alcohol again no matter what.

He stopped at the café and went to the back door. Annabelle came out, and he pulled her into his arms. They kissed long and passionately.

Surprised a little, she stepped back and looked up into his eyes.

“I love you,” he said.

Taken aback some, she smiled and said softly, “I love you, too, Joshua. This is so sudden it sounds like you are saying good-bye.”

“No,” he said, smiling softly, too, “I'm not, but on the train I started thinking. My work is so dangerous, and I do not want a wife who spends our whole marriage nursing me back to health. I have to leave today on a new mission and want us both to do a lot of thinking about us.”

Annabelle said, “I don't need to, Joshua Strongheart. I love you and want to be your wife. Your biological father and you both have claw scars from grizzly bears. What are the odds of something like that happening? You survived the most horrendous bullet wounds I have ever seen after your gunfight in Florence, and that was after surviving your wounds in the stagecoach holdup. I have thought about what you said myself, but I decided you have been wounded enough for ten men, let alone one. I think the odds must be in your favor by now. I think it should be my decision if I want to spend my life nursing you back to health. In the meantime, I will be here waiting for you to make up your mind.”

He reached up and touched her cheek softly, and kissed her lightly on the lips.

Joshua said, “You are an incredible woman, my darling.”

She opened the back door, saying, “You wait right here, sir. I'm making you a pack of food for your saddlebags.”

She disappeared, then emerged seconds later with a steaming cup of hot coffee, gave him a quick kiss, and went back inside, while he sat on a chopping block and sipped the coffee.

4

Lakota Land

After a March special election earlier in the year, the citizens had agreed to funding a railroad spur from Pueblo into Cañon City. The long-anticipated Denver and Rio Grande Western Railroad spur was completed in July, and now just a few months later, Joshua Strongheart loaded Gabe onto a livestock freight car and found his seat on the train. He was first heading east thirty miles to Pueblo and then north through Denver.

Joshua thought about how much the West was transitioning into modern times as he trotted Gabe into his father's tribal circle just a few days later.

He was immediately greeted by several smiling faces, people he did not see often enough, who he knew as uncles, aunts, and cousins. He was taken to a teepee and fed, so he could rest from his trip and talking could begin tomorrow after a night's sleep.

The next day Strongheart shared a pipe with the tribal chief
Mato Conze
, “Angry Bear.” They spoke in Lakota.

Angry Bear puffed on the pipe and, using his palm, tried to sweep the smoke over his face.

He passed the pipe to Joshua and said, “We heard about you counting coup and killing the mighty bear. Did he write on your flesh with his claws?”

Joshua grinned and stood, removing his shirt. He still had fresh claw scars and bite marks. Angry Bear took note of the many bullet scars, too.

Joshua replaced his shirt and sat again, cross-legged as was custom. They smoked some more and talked about many things.

Angry Bear said, “It is not polite to speak of the dead, but your father also bore scars of the mighty bear. This I think is a sign from the Great Mystery. The one who came before you was my friend. He was a great warrior and a member of the Strongheart society.”

Joshua said, “It is good for me to hear these things. Nobody will speak of my father, so I have always wondered about him.”

“What your heart has spoken to you about him,” Angry Bear said, “is true.”

Strongheart grinned. It was time to speak to Angry Bear about why he'd come.

“You are a wise elder,” Strongheart said. “You have heard of Quanah Parker of the Comanche?”

Angry Bear puffed and nodded.

Joshua went on, “The Great Father in Washington wants me to parlay, to smoke the pipe with him.”

Angry Bear grinned. “Quanah Parker, like you, is a man with two hearts, one red, one white. The Great Father is wise. He thinks you can talk with this Comanche because you and he will know each other's heart.”

“Yes, this is true,” the Pinkerton said. “Do you think he will meet with me?”

Angry Bear puffed thoughtfully and blew the smoke skyward. He passed the pipe to Joshua.

“You have a leg and arm which are broken. You have many scars right now,” the chief said. “What if you must fight to get away?”

Strongheart said, “He is a red brother. I will not fight the Comanche.”

“This is a good thing. We will tell our brothers, the Chyela,” the elder said, referring to the Cheyenne. They will tell Quanah Parker that your words have iron and your heart is quiet.”

Strongheart smiled and nodded.

They smoked some more, and Joshua said, “Do you know of a Lakota who stands taller than all others? He is very strong like the mighty bear, and he kills—”

Angry Bear interrupted, “
We Wiyake.
”

Strongheart said, “Blood Feather? Where is he from?”

The chief said, “We do not know. He kills our people, and he leaves, maybe one moon, two moons. He then comes back and kills again. He puts a feather with blood on the face of each.”

“This man,” Strongheart replied, “stands almost one head taller than me.”

“Yes, he is the one,” Angry Bear responded.

Strongheart said, “He comes to the south and kills the
wasicun
. Then he comes here and kills the Lakota.”

One of Strongheart's cousins brought both men bowls of buffalo stew, and Joshua went to his saddlebags and brought out a tin of peaches, which he shared with the old man. While they ate, they compared dates and places of killings. Without using the term or even knowing what the term was, they figured out they were dealing with a serial killer, who killed once per month that they knew of, alternating between reds and whites. Joshua knew he had to pass this on to Lucky as soon as possible.

A small war party of Hunkpapa Lakota rode in. Joshua saw that their ponies' tails were tied up in knots, and they wore war paint, indicating that they were looking for a fight, not game. They were fed and then met with Angry Bear while Joshua visited with relatives.

After they left, Angry Bear explained that one of the best warriors in that tribe had been killed by
We Wiyake
. They had been out tracking him, and he was spotted once from a distance. His size and musculature were incredible, and Angry Bear spoke about how the Hunkpapa described the killer in regards to his strength. The warrior had had his throat crushed, and of course his heart was cut out of his chest and a bloody feather left on his face.

We Wiyake
had watched the war party following him. He was on a large ridgeline overlooking the prairie where he had purposely left tracks heading west. He would not kill these warriors unless he had to. They were not in his plans, but eluding them helped him feel something anyway.

Staying to the ridges, he followed them for five miles before deciding to move into the trees and go ahead of them. Normally, Blood Feather was on foot, but he had stolen a large draft horse from a Colorado ranch, and he was now riding it. He generally could not ride most horses, as they were too short for his over-seven-foot-tall muscular body. He knew where he and his mount would go, because he had laid this part of his trail down in case he was followed.

Sleeps in Light was the head of the war party and was an accomplished warrior, hunter, and tracker. The trail had been easy for him to follow, as the prey was so large. Now the trail was moving through woodlands, as it paralleled a flowing stream surrounded by cottonwoods and some hardwoods. From his pony's back, the party's leader easily tracked the large hoofprints on the ground. The party came to a large mud-walled cut bank and had to ride in single file.

Not knowing he was there, the first six riders in the party passed within two feet of
We Wiyake
. As the seventh member, a very enthusiastic sixteen-year-old warrior named Buffalo Hump, followed along the narrow trail, a giant pair of hands and arms reached out from the mud wall and grabbed his mouth and throat, yanking him from the pony's back. He was pulled into the mud wall, pushed face-first into the mud, before he felt the large blade plunge into his back over and over until he felt no more.

We Wiyake
dived into the stream and immediately started washing the coating of mud off his body. A small drip of blood was all that leaked from the wall of mud concealing the brave's now lifeless upright body
.
We Wiyake
returned to his horse and went on to the high ground.

The war party rode another half mile before seeing that their last man was missing. Sleeps in Light immediately returned them on their backtrail, all eyes scouring the ground for sign. It took a full hour before they could find where their fellow warrior's body had been shoved face-first into the muddy wall, standing up. They cleaned his body off in the stream and draped it across the back of his pony, which had followed along. Sleeps in Light decided they should get off of this trail and head to the far wooded ridgeline before making camp for the night. He felt that this trail must be being watched, and getting away from it might prevent further attack.

It was close to dark before they carefully selected a well-protected campsite, surrounded by large boulders and trees. They could make a fire and not worry about it or the smoke from it being seen in the thick branches overhead. They would keep the horses close that night.

Sleeps in Light took the first watch and had trouble sleeping throughout the night after his watch. The way his man had been killed totally unnerved him, and that was the goal of
We Wiyake
. The other members of the war party were restless, too.

Meadowlarks were chirping, and there was frost on the undergrowth as the sun slowly came up in the morning. Wounded Horse was the last man on watch when dawn broke. He was a man with an ever-present smile, except when he met with an enemy on the battlefield. Then, he was the enemy's worst nightmare. Sleeps in Light awakened to the sound of the birds and lay there, listening, not moving. He had to relieve his bladder and immediately stood and did so. Something was wrong. There was no figure seated by the fire, as would be the normal sight. Shivering up and down his spine, Sleeps in Light finished relieving himself and turned toward the fire. The sight caught his breath and then he smelled burning flesh. The body of Wounded Horse was before him, with the man's face in the campfire. His hair had already burned off. Sleeps in Light awakened the others, and the warrior's body was pulled from the fire. Each man grabbed his weapons and with his eyes scoured in every direction.

Now every man in this war party was totally intimidated and frightened. They could not even tell how Wounded Horse had been murdered, but he had been on watch. He should have seen or heard anybody before the killer got to the campsite, and Wounded Horse was a very responsible brave. He would never have fallen asleep while it was his turn to watch the campsite.

Sleeps in Light made the decision to leave his comrades' bodies on the battlefield. It was something that was not preferred but sometimes done out of necessity. They decided to head back to their own village and forget the search for this killer.

They began heading northwest at a fast trot, and the blank, distant eyes of
We Wiyake
watched them from the closest ridgeline. Having decided to intercept their route of travel, he mounted his draft horse and trotted along the reverse side of the ridgeline.

* * *

Joshua Strongheart chewed on some beef jerky as he looked at Blood Feather through a pair of binoculars. A slow whistle escaped his lips as he saw the size of the killer mounting up. The Pinkerton put his binoculars back in his saddlebags and climbed atop Gabriel, then trotted after Blood Feather while keeping his distance. He could occasionally see in the distance clumps of dust from the war party, but he did not have to keep the Hunkpapa in sight, only
We Wiyake
.

Two hours later, Joshua made a mistake. He lost sight of Blood Feather briefly and rushed forward to see if he could spot him after the giant had gone into a gulch.
We Wiyake
had stopped to watch just to insure he was not being followed, and he spotted Strongheart. He kept after the war party, but discreetly kept checking his backtrail to see if Joshua was still there. By watching, he could tell Strongheart was good, and he thought maybe he would finally have an adversary to match up against him.

It was the middle of the night when
We Wiyake
rose out of the undergrowth and slipped the rope war bridle over the nose and neck of Gabriel. He led the big sorrel-and-white paint off through the trees. Every one hundred yards, Blood Feather went back and carefully covered the horse's tracks as well as his, until he was far away from Joshua's night position. He was going to slit the horse's windpipe with his big knife, but then he saw the claw scars from the grizzly. This horse had powerful medicine, so he would let it live. He took it two miles away and tied it to a tree.

From there, Blood Feather moved toward the camp of the war party. He crawled up close to the camp and saw two warriors awake near the fire. He inched forward toward Sleeps in Light asleep outside the circle of light from the campfire. The killer lay there covered with leaves for hours, just watching and waiting until almost dawn, waiting for Sleeps in Light to awaken and walk away from the campfire to relieve himself. The giant man crawled after the war party leader and then crouched as he got farther away from the fire. Sleeps in Light was standing by a tree relieving his bladder when he felt the giant hand clamp around his mouth and the sharp blade of the big knife against his throat.

Speaking in Lakota,
We Wiyake
whispered, “Walk quietly.”

They moved far away from the camp, the blade still at Sleeps in Light's throat.

Blood Feather said quietly in a rumbling deep voice, “A man follows me who has two hearts. Who is he?”

Sleeps in Light said, “Joshua Strongheart must have followed us. His father was from that village where we were. His mother was white. He lives in what the
wasicun
call Colorado Territory, at Cañon City.”

“Why did he come?”
We Wiyake
said.

“He seeks you,” Sleeps in Light said, hoping the giant killer would spare his life.

“Uh,”
We Wiyake
said and slit the warrior's throat, holding him up until the life drained out of his body. Then he dropped him and took off to return to his own camp without looking back.

He trotted through the woods and made it to his camp, but immediately he saw that something was wrong. His big draft horse was gone. The animal was not where he had picketed him
.
We Wiyake
went to the place and got on his hands and knees searching the ground. The first rays of morning light were just streaking through the trees when he saw the tracks of Joshua Strongheart's moccasins, the ones Joshua always carried in his saddlebags. He had stolen the draft horse.

Blood Feather was not angry. As always, he was completely emotionless. He struck camp and started west toward the mountains. He was now on foot again and would utilize his mile-eating trot to get away from this new enemy and hide his trail in the high mountains. He knew he would now have to be more vigilant, and he would have to strike at this enemy's soul, then kill him and eat his heart, making his own medicine more powerful than ever. Maybe killing Strongheart and eating his heart would make him finally feel something, anything.