Eagle People (3 page)

He counted over 200 dead and not a one killed by a gun. It was near the well, when he saw a beautiful woman fully dressed and sprawled out in the dirt. She was one of his People and a warrior from her clothing. She'd been shot at least three times in the chest, but she must have killed many, because she'd not been mutilated or raped. Usually if a woman was injured, men would line up to use her, with the man who'd put her down going first. Or, if she was only slightly wounded, they might make her a slave. Most slaves that had escaped or been rescued stated they would preferred death to being a slave. He squatted beside her, pulled her blouse open, and noticed the shots were all close together and could be covered with his closed fist. There was little blood on her, so he knew she'd died from internal bleeding. He covered her face with a bandana he removed from her throat.

Damn me, not a single survivor that I can see. But, some may have fled from the fight. I need to return to my men, they will be worried,
he thought and then moved for his horse. They were too few in his group to bury so many, so the dead would remain where they fell.

Once with his men, he said, “No survivors, not a one that I could see, and over 200 dead. I only found where one warrior, a woman, had been shot. The Wolf People may have guns, but if they do, they do not have many.”

Suddenly, Lee spotted movement in the woods to the left and signed, “Our left side has movement but it is off in the distance.”

Amon signed, “Prepare to be attacked, but do nothing unless they start first. We are too few to fight against a large group.”

Chapter 2

ASA SAW THE MEN
of The Eagle People talking, and smiled. He had no intentions of attacking this small group. He had over a hundred warriors, but he had no replacements. If he attacked the men on the horses, he'd lose some fighters, so he'd wait. He'd wait until the odds were better and he could kill many but lose few. Besides, the men in the village would carry the horror of his attack to all Eagle People villages, and that alone was reason enough not to harm them.

He was the war chief of his band of The Wolf People and he was the absolute leader, with his decisions being final and not questionable. He lowered his ancient binoculars and smiled. He could afford to smile now; he had close to fifty children captive, and well over a dozen women slaves.

Whispering to Ninian, his shaman, he said, “Tell them it is not a good day for us to fight. Tell them our God has given us a great victory over the people of the Eagle, and we must be content with our single victory. Our time, a better time, has been promised by God.”

Ninian scared most people because it was said he could call evil spirits to life and have them kill his enemies. As a People, they were superstitious and afraid of things they did not understand. While the shaman was not understood or even liked, no one ever confronted him or insulted him. Those that had in the past were no longer among the living, and while the Wolf People may have lacked the education of the Eagle People, they were not stupid. If you wish to live, do not speak against the shaman.

The shaman said, “We must leave. The spirits promised us a great victory, which we have won, but we are to do no more on this day.  God will give us another day and more victories in the near future.”

“Byron, see the captive children are well cared for, because one day they will become The People. Also, protect the women captives, until I have a chance to select those that may catch my eye; the rest will be given to the single men for their entertainment.”

“I will care for the little ones as if they are my own children, and the women will be protected.” the big man replied. Byron was a huge man, closer to seven feet than six, over 250 pounds, short auburn hair and beard. He was vicious in battle, and had gained many honors in his short twenty-five years of life. He was known for a violent temper and when working for him, failure was never an option. While yet young, he was second in command only to Asa.

“Calvin,” Byron said, “remain behind and observe the warriors of the Eagle People. When you find their village, return to me. Do not fight them, just follow the men and return to me. If you're seen, consider your mission a failure.” His eyes narrowed to give added emphasis to his words.

“I will not let you down.” the small man replied. Calvin was just a little over five feet tall, thin, and with bulging eyes. The other warriors called him Badger behind his back, because of his mean-spirited personality and small stature. Badger was a man burner with a sadistic mind, both of which stimulated his sexual desires. After burning or torturing a man, he'd frequently go in search of a woman, and it was best if he found a captive, because he'd always turn rough and bloody. It wasn't unusual when Calvin was in rut for a female to die from his rough handling. Byron always kept a worn out slave or older captive available for the man.

“See that you don't, or you may end up on a burning post beside one of your male friends.”

Calvin wasn't gay, and just the suggestion that he liked men pissed him off, but he kept his mouth closed, knowing Asa was not teasing. He turned his horse and said, “Eldon, Horace and Mort, you'll ride with me. We will follow the warriors of the Eagle People. Come to the oak tree and we'll discuss our mission.” He then pointed to a huge ancient oak.

The men followed the small man to the tree and dismounted. Calvin squatted, as did the other men, and then the small man said, “I want Mort on point and Eldon bringing up the rear. Byron doesn't want us seen, so at all costs, stay clear of the warriors.”

Horace, an average size black man, closer to forty than thirty, asked, “And if we're seen?”

“I suspect Byron will kill all of us, because he ordered us to remain unseen. Hang back and follow their tracks. We don't need to get up close and personal, not this time. Now mount, and we'll stay here until they start to move.”

As they waited, Calvin gave thought to the three guns they had. All three were taken in a recent raid against the Cave People, a group living in what used to be called the Missouri Ozark Mountains.  The Cave People lived in the smallest groups of any tribes, due to the caves only holding so many people, and they were an agricultural people. When attacked, they'd usually retreat to their caves to make a stand. Near harvest, other tribes would often attack them, chase them to their caves, and then steal foods from the gardens. They were a meek group and not warlike in the least.

Three pistols and some ammunition were discovered in one cave, after the Cave People were caught in the open working their fields. Most were slaughtered, but the young women and children were retained for adoption into the tribe. Asa had no idea where the weapons had come from, but only those three guns were found. Even in later raids against the Cave People, no additional guns were found.

It's not likely more guns are to be found,
Calvin thought as he sat watching Amon and his men.

Finally, when Amon moved, the Wolf warriors were on their tails.

The rest of the day was slow and long, as the point man tried to remain about two miles behind the Eagle warriors. Mort was trail savvy, having been a warrior all his life, and he'd entered training when he was only six years old. He was considered one of the best in the tribe. However, he had to be cautious and not run into the drag man of Amon's group or a fight would start.

Near dusk, Mort stopped and waited for the group to catch up with him. He'd waited in a good spot to spend the night, with a small clear stream running near, and firewood.

Calvin neared and seeing his point man, said, “We'll spend the night here. I want any cooking done before dark and then the fire will be allowed to burn out. Two men will be on guard all night, with four hour shifts, starting at full dark. If I catch you sleeping, I'll slit your throat and I'll not even wake you before I do the job.”

Supper was fried meat that'd been soaked in brine, tough thick crackers, and sassafras tea. It was a usual meal for them in the boonies, and not a man complained. As the meat, venison this time, was cooking, each man went to the creek and filled their gourd canteens. Then, Horace took the horses to the creek one-at-a-time to be watered. After watering the animals, each man rubbed his mount down, and then ate supper. Two men wrapped up in blankets, as the other two moved back into the shadows to pull guard.

It was near three in the morning, with Calvin and Horace on guard, when a slight noise caught the short man's attention. It sounded like a pebble rolling and as he listened, the night sounds abruptly stopped. All insects were quiet, and even the tree frogs were as still as death. The moon was full, so it was almost as light as day and clear, with the exception of a few cotton ball clouds hanging off to the west. He scanned the area closely, but saw no movement.

Something big is in the area,
Calvin thought, and then glanced toward Horace. All looked normal, except it was too quiet, and that was a reason to be alert. Twenty minutes later, the insects were making noises again, so it was likely whatever was out there, had moved on.
There's a chance too, if people are in the area, they're not moving,
he thought and then tossed a small stone toward the sleeping form of Eldon.  
If a person remains still the bugs will eventually start making noises again.

When he glanced at Eldon again, the man was still in his blanket, so he moved toward the sleeping men.
Damn me, he can't be so damned tired he can't wake up when I need him. Getting lazy is what's happening,
he thought as he stopped, waited a minute, scanned the area, and then moved forward slowly. There was a chance someone was watching him right this second, so he stayed in the shadows.

When he neared the sleeping men he glanced at the fire and it was out, not a coal seen. He paused for a minute or two, and then using his left hand, he gave Eldon a light shake. When there was no response, he shook harder, which caused the blanket to fall from his face. In the light of the moon, Calvin saw an ugly dark gap under the man's chin—his throat was cut!  At first he felt fear, but it quickly dissipated, replaced by anger. He moved to Mort and pulled his blanket back. His throat was cut too, and he'd been stabbed twice in the chest as well.
They knew Mort was my point man, they knew it,
his mind screamed,
but how? Damn me, now Asa will have my ass and there was no way I could have prevented this.
 

Suddenly the cool night air was filled with a loud scream and when Calvin looked in the direction of the noise he saw Horace on the ground, kicking his legs and throwing his arm in all directions. It was then an arrow flew past Calvin's eyes and struck the tree beside him.
Damn me, that was way too close,
he thought as he rose and ran for Horace.

The black man had an arrow low and in his stomach, which Calvin knew was fatal, so he pulled his knife. He stuck the full length of the sharp blade up and under Horace's ribs and violently jerked the knife from side-to-side. The injured man's eyes grew huge, he gave a loud piteous scream, and then he slowly stopped moving. A few minutes later, he was dead.

Knowing he had to move and now, Calvin backed into the darkness of the trees and started running. In his fear, he forgot about his horse. His only goal was to escape and survive. Then, once deeper in the woods, his mind began to realize he was not acting as a warrior should. He slowed to a walk and thought,
slow your thinking down. You're away from camp now, but you have no horse and no gear. You need to return to camp, gather some gear, and then return to the village. It's not likely anyone has entered our camp yet. They'll likely come at daylight. Return and do this like you've been trained. If you panic, you'll die.

He stopped, turned around, and started walking back to camp. As he moved, he tried to think of what he could tell Asa that would protect him from the man's anger. He often killed the messenger, so his threat of killing Calvin was very real.
I'll worry about that later, after I see if I can get a horse and some gear,
he thought. When he ran from camp, he'd left his weapons, all but his knife, behind. He needed at least his bow and arrows or his spear, because without them he'd not really feel protected.

When he neared the camp all was quiet, so he circled slowly, but saw nothing and heard little, except the water running in the brook. He saw the horses, and camp looked as if he'd stepped away to pee, but he was timid about entering. Something did not feel right, so he sat in the dirt behind a clump of bushes and waited.  

Finally, as a false dawn was coming up behind him, he moved forward, but his nerves were on edge and his senses heightened. He felt someone near, actually felt them, except he had no choice. He had to have a mount and weapons. At the center of camp, he quickly picked up his bow and made an arrow ready. He turned 360 degrees, only he saw no one. He moved toward the horses.

Seeing his big bay, he untied her, quickly mounted, and rode hard to the south. He'd covered almost three miles before he noticed something flapping on his reins. Pulling the horse to a stop, he pulled the harness near and grew speechless at the sight of three bloody scalps hanging from the leather. He knew by the scalps his attackers were the very ones he was sent to follow.