Demon's Pass (12 page)

“We ain't goin' to get nowhere fightin' amongst ourselves,” one of the other men named Murdock said. Murdock was the oldest of the group. The remaining two men were Boyer and Eakins.

“Hey, Fenton, how long you think it'll be before they show up?” Boyer asked.

Fenton, glad to have the moment diffused, looked back east toward Independence, Missouri.

“They'll make about thirty miles a day,” he said. “So I figure they'll show up by midday tomorrow. Three wagons, all loaded with goods.”

“How many men?”

“There's two leadin' 'em, man named Clay Springer, and a snot-nosed boy named Parker Stanley. Then there's three drivers, and two outriders.”

“Wait a minute. That makes seven of 'em,” Eakins said. “Seven of them and only five of us. I thought you said this would be easy.”

“Two of 'em is nothin' but boys. Parker Stanley is one, and Jason Mills is the other. And you don't be worryin' none about Springer and the Stanley boy. I aim to take personal care of both of them my ownself.”

“What kind of goods are they carryin'?” Boyer asked.

“Some guns, flour, bolts of cloth, cookin' stoves, shovels, nails, and the like.”

“Any whiskey?” Shardeen asked, hopefully.

Fenton shook his head. “You can't sell whiskey where they're goin'. They're goin' to trade with the Mormons.”

“If they're plannin' on doin' that, they're crazy,” Murdock said. “Ever since folks attacked the Mormons in Illinois and Missouri, the Mormons have been just plumb hostile. They don't like visitors.”

“Yeah, but Mormons got to have supplies just like ever'one else,” Fenton said. “And they'll pay top dollar for the goods. I heard 'em talkin' about it. Springer plans to get twenty-five thousand dollars for deliverin' them supplies to Salt Lake City.”

“Twenty-five thousand dollars?” Shardeen asked. “That's a lot of money, just for flour and such.”

“I told you, the Mormons are out there all by themselves. They got a need for things like that.”

“How's he plan to keep from gettin' hisself killed?” Murdock asked.

“He has a letter to Brigham Young from one of Young's friends, askin' him to treat them real good,” Fenton said. “After we get rid of Springer and the others, we've got to find that letter.”

“What the hell do we want with that letter?” Boyer asked.

“We're goin' to use it same way as Springer, so's we can trade with the Mormons.”

“If it's got Springer's name on it, what good will it do us?” Eakins asked.

“That won't matter none,” Fenton replied. “It ain't like Brigham Young has ever met Springer, so that means if any of us says we're Springer, the Mormons won't know the difference. We'll sell 'em the goods, collect the money, then be on our way.”

“Why don't we just take the stuff back to Kansas City and sell it there?” Boyer asked. “Be a lot safer, and less trouble.”

“ 'Cause we wouldn't get no more'n a couple thousand dollars for it in Kansas City,” Fenton said.

“Yeah, well, if we're goin' to take this stuff all the way out to Utah, you better be talkin' true when you say we can get twenty-five thousand dollars from the Mormons,” Murdock said.

“That's how much Springer was a'tellin' Mr. Garland he was goin' to get when he bought the wagons,” Fenton said.

“Whew,” Eakins whistled. “Twenty-five thousand dollars? For each of us, that would be . . .” He paused, then began counting on his fingers.

“Five thousand dollars each,” Shardeen said.

“Lordy Lord, what I could do with five thousand dollars,” Boyer said.

“We ain't got it yet,” Murdock said. “And even if we get the wagons, it's a long way to Utah.”

“We'll get the money,” Fenton insisted. “When we run in to the wagons tomorrow, we'll kill ever'one of 'em. Goin' to be as easy as takin' candy from a baby.”

 

One day east of the outlaws' camp, the Springer-Stanley party was just breaking camp for the morning. Marcus Pearson and Frank Pecorino were nearly finished hitching their teams. But Jason Mills was just beginning to hitch up his wagon. However, with Parker's help, he quickly caught up with the others. In return for Parker's assistance, Jason offered to teach him how to use a gun.

“What's the most important thing? Drawing your gun fast, or shooting straight?” Parker asked, eager to learn all he could.

Jason laughed. “Well, you need both,” he answered. “It doesn't do you any good to get your gun out fast if you can't shoot straight. On the other hand, it doesn't do any good to be able to shoot straight unless you can get your gun out in time.”

“I've used a rifle for hunting and such,” Parker said. “And I know how to use the front and rear sight. But when you shoot a pistol you don't use your sight, do you? Looks to me like you just draw your gun and shoot. Pass that belly brace through.”

Jason passed the leather strap underneath the mule. “I do aim,” he said. “But it's not the kind of aiming where you actually look through the sights. It's kind of
thinking
about where you want to shoot . . . and willing your gun in that direction.”

“I don't understand.”

“You can look at something without actually aiming at it, can't you?”

“Sure, I guess so.”

“All right, think about having an eyeball on the end of your pistol barrel.”

Parker laughed.

“No, I'm serious,” Jason said. “Just pretend that the hole in the end of a pistol barrel is an eyeball. Then, use that eyeball to look at your target.” Jason nodded toward a nearby tree. “There,” he said. “Use your gun-eye to look at the trunk of that scrub tree there.”

Parker pulled his pistol and pointed it toward the tree. He started to raise the pistol to look through the sites.

“Huh-uh,” Jason said, wagging his finger. “Don't do it that way. Remember. Your eyeball is at the end of the gun. Use it to find your target.”

Doing as Jason said, Parker pointed his pistol toward the tree and pulled the trigger. The gun bucked in his hand as if fired, and he saw a puff of dirt kick up from the ground beyond the tree.

The shot didn't alarm any of the others, who continued with their routine of breaking camp after seeing that the boys were just practicing their gunplay.

“That wasn't bad,” Jason said. He turned back to the team to buckle the last strap.

“I didn't hit the tree.”

“No, but you came close. And you did what I asked you to do. You let the gun look at the tree.”

“You do it,” Parker said.

Jason still had his back to the tree when Parker issued his challenge. Instantly, he whirled, and the gun seemed to appear almost as if by magic in his hand. By the time Jason was turned around, he was firing. Parker saw chips of bark flying from the tree trunk.

“You did it!”

“Believe me, it isn't all that hard once you get the hang of it,” Jason said.

The other drivers and the two outriders had walked over and joined Clay at the still-burning campfire to pour themselves one last cup of coffee before they left.

“That Mills kid is about as good with a gun as anyone I've ever seen,” Marcus Pearson said, as he kicked dirt onto the fire and began stamping out the embers.

“Yes, he is,” Clay answered. “I think Parker was right in hiring him. It's good knowing you have someone like that on your side, if you ever need him.”

“The way Parker is going at it, he'll be as good as the kid by the time we reach Salt Lake,” Marcus suggested.

“That's all we need—two wet-behind-the-ears kids with fast guns,” Tobin said, almost bitterly.

“Yeah, especially with Parker making so much of being second in command,” Gibson added in a joking tone, that still held an edge.

Clay took a drink of his coffee and looked at his two outriders over the rim of his cup. “You men knew when you signed on that Parker was second in command,” he said. “If you've got a problem with that, turn around right now and ride back to Missouri. It isn't too late.”

“I got no problem with it,” Tobin insisted.

“Me neither,” Gibson said, sighing. “I was just commentin' on it, is all.”

“Keep those kinds of comments to yourself from now on,” Clay warned. He tossed out the grounds from the bottom of his cup. “All right, men, let's head 'em up and move 'em out!” he shouted.

Chapter 8

 

True to his word, Brave Eagle said nothing about Elizabeth's attempt to escape, and by noon the rest of the village had already begun the celebration of the marriage which would take place at sundown. Gifts of flowers were piled high around Elizabeth's teepee. In addition to the flowers, there were other gifts, such as eating utensils, robes, blankets, and baskets of corn and turnips.

Moon Cow Woman was in Elizabeth's teepee, having come by to help her prepare for the wedding. As they worked on Elizabeth's ceremonial dress, Moon Cow Woman continued teaching her some of the Cheyenne language, as well as instructing her on the customs of her people.

“Are you a believer in the Jesus-Spirit?” Moon Cow Woman asked.

“Do you mean am I a Christian? Well, yes. I haven't been to church since we left Illinois, but Pa would say prayers and sometimes read from the Bible. I don't want to offend anyone, but I will not stop being a believer in the Jesus-Spirit.”

“That is good. You should not stop believing in your Jesus-Spirit,” Moon Cow Woman said.

“For if you did, then you would have no center, and your medicine would be weak. It is important that everyone have a Great Spirit to pray to. In the life of the Cheyenne, the one thing that is more important than all other things is what the white man calls the soul. When the Cheyenne awakens in the early morning and sees the rising sun, it is a good time to pray. When the Cheyenne sees food which the Great Spirit has put on earth, it is a good time to pray. When the Cheyenne sees lightning, or hears thunder, it is a good time to pray. When the Great Spirit takes the sun from the sky and makes night so that one can sleep, it is a good time to pray.”

“Christians pray at all these times as well,” Elizabeth protested.

“Ah, then this is good,” Moon Cow Woman said. “For if the Jesus-Spirit who came to the white man is the true Great Spirit, then he hears all prayers . . . the prayers of the white man and the prayers of the Cheyenne.”

“Moon Cow Woman, you are a good and wise woman, but I am puzzled. Why does it not bother you that I am to marry Two Ponies, who is already your husband?”

“If it pleases Two Ponies to take you as his wife, it pleases me,” Moon Cow Woman said. “And it also pleases me that you will soon be my sister.”

 

When Elizabeth and Moon Cow Woman went to the ceremony that night, there was a ring of campfires burning brightly around the outer edge of the center of the camp. A circle, Elizabeth knew by now, was very important to the Cheyenne. The power of the world worked in a circle, or so the Cheyenne believed. They reasoned that the sky is round, the moon is round, and the earth is round, and that was not without purpose. The seasons also formed a circle, always coming back again. The nests of birds are round, teepees are round, and hogans are round. The teepees and the hogans are always set in a circle, and all meetings and ceremonies took place in the center of that circle.

Elizabeth looked toward the other side of the ring and saw Two Ponies standing there, dressed in his ceremonial finest. He wore a feathered headdress which was so long that the end of it trailed all the way to the ground. He carried a sacred feathered scepter, and his jacket and trousers were decorated with brightly colored beads. His eyes glowed in the reflected light of the many campfires as he looked over the assemblage. The drums and chanting grew quiet.

Two Ponies started toward the middle of the circle, and held his hand out toward Elizabeth. Elizabeth just stood there for a moment, awed by the absolute silence which had fallen over the camp. Over the last several weeks she had grown used to the constant noise of the village; the drums, the chants of the hunting parties, the babble of the women, and the laughter of the children. Now there was no sound except the snapping and popping of the wood in the dozen or so campfires.

Several hundred faces looked toward Elizabeth, all of them bathed in orange by the flickering light of the fires. For Elizabeth, there was a surrealism to the moment which made it all seem like a dream. She was once a farm girl from near Hillsboro, Illinois. And now she was here, in this remote Indian village, about to become the bride of the chief of the Cheyenne.

At Moon Cow Woman's urging, Elizabeth walked into the center of the circle, then sat on the ground before Two Ponies. Two Ponies held his hand out over her, then declared in a loud voice, “I take this woman for my wife.” After that, he sat on the ground beside Elizabeth and food was brought to them. Not until they took their first bite did the others in the village start eating.

Midway through the feast, Two Ponies stood and beckoned for Elizabeth to follow him. He led her through the circle and into the darkness beyond the campfires, until they reached her teepee. Just outside the teepee, he motioned for her to go inside.

“It is not for me to enter the teepee before my husband,” she said, remembering Moon Cow Woman's instructions.

“I will not be going into the teepee,” Two Ponies said.

“What?” Elizabeth asked, surprised by the strange statement. “What do you mean? Why not?”