Lakota Dawn (17 page)

Soon, it rumbled and jostled into view. After the stage passed the villains, the action began when seven riders took off after it, whooping and shooting. As the first shots were fired, Grattan told his men to charge, and to pursue any warrior who tried to flee the scene.

As they galloped toward the action, firing as they went, the raiders tried to escape. Grattan and the soldiers pursued them with haste and resolve. As much as he despised their quarry, Chase didn’t want to be one of their killers and made sure his
shots didn’t hit any of the villains; he would leave justice in the hands of the Army.

It was not long before all seven men had been slain. Only one soldier was slightly wounded. As Chase joined Grattan near the bodies, he observed the officer’s reaction as he inspected them.

“These aren’t hostiles. They’re white men dressed and painted as Indians and wearing full head scalps. Did you know about this?”

“Yes, sir, but I figured if I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe me.” Grattan didn’t respond to him, but the lieutenant’s expression told Chase that assumption had probably been right. “I knew if the Indians were blamed and their camps were attacked, they would retaliate and a war would break out. This was my way of preventing something which would get a lot of innocent people killed on both sides.”

A lower ranking officer told Chase, “We have some real Indians doing raiding and robbing and we’ll have to go after them as soon as we can learn which ones are involved. We’ll have help by fall because more troops are expected by then. If you ask me, it’s going to come to war. I hate to see that happen, but the Indians won’t honor their word.”

“What about our people’s broken promises to them?” Chase responded as calmly as he could. “I hear some of the stock and rations are so bad even vultures wouldn’t touch them. Some Whites are taking advantage of the treaty and settling in areas they shouldn’t. And troublemakers like these men are pretending to be Indians to trick the Army into killing or running them out of the area. You’ve got Whites slaying buffalo for nothing more than their hides and sometimes their tongues. Maybe you haven’t been here long enough to learn the Indians take great offense to that, because they use every part of a slain buffalo. It riles them to find meat rotting on the Plains, and to realize our hunters are destroying the main source of their survival. You’ve got enemy tribes being ordered to share hunting grounds. You’re confining men who’ve roamed, hunted, and lived free and proud to one territory and they’ve been ordered not to fight each other, which goes against all they are,
know, and have been for generations. You’re talking about mixing tribes as different in customs and languages as the English are to the French and Spanish.”

The soldier shrugged. “We had to drive them out of our country and may have to do the same with the Indians if they don’t settle down.”

“They might settle down if the Army and Government would listen to their protests and grievances and do something about them.”

“That isn’t for us to decide; we just follow orders. Right, Lieutenant?”

As Grattan nodded, Chase realized it was a futile waste of energy and time trying to reason with the soldiers. He wanted to finish his part in this matter and return to his wife. He related how he had stumbled onto the culprits after they attacked an army supply wagon heading to Laramie.

“We were expecting that supply wagon last week,” Grattan said almost to himself after Chase finished relating the whole story. “We thought it was just late. Fleming’s checking on it while he’s gone.”

“Well, now you know what happened to it and you’ve already gotten the men responsible. All this should look good on your record, Lieutenant Grattan. Since I’ve done my duty, I’ll be riding on. But I’ll give you one more piece of advice— if you hear about any more attacks by Indians, make sure they’re truly to blame. I surely would hate to hear about this area becoming a bloody battlefield because of a foolish mistake. Just remember, the Indians can be pushed so far before they’ll retaliate. If it comes to war, you’ll discover their warriors are far more skilled and cunning than you realize, and they’re superior fighters on this kind of terrain. Good luck, Lieutenant; I have a strange feeling you and Fleming are going to need it before summer’s over.”

As Macha cuddled in Chase’s arms in the Wildcat Hills that night, he told her, “We must go share our findings with my father and our people. They must be told about the treaty words
and warned about white men’s tricks, so they will not fall prey to them.”

Macha leaned her head back, stared at him with widened eyes, and asked in dread, “What if they doubt you and slay you or banish you?”

“We must take that risk, Sunshine of my heart. If we are banished, we will find a place to live where we will be free and happy. We cannot seek a new life together far away and leave them in danger.”

She noticed he did not respond to her that he might be slain; she must have faith it would not be so. “That is true, my husband. Why did the white men seek to blame Lakotas for their evil deeds? The Pawnee live across the river and their number is larger in this area.”

“The Pawnee offer the Whites no threat, but the Brules and Oglalas in this area resist White encroachment and stir up trouble at times. It would please the settlers and soldiers for all Lakotas to be far away from here.”

“Will that sun rise, my husband?” she asked with trepidation.

As he caressed her cheek, he said, “I do not know,”
but I fear it will in the years ahead.
To calm her anxiety, he lowered his mouth to hers and she responded with eagerness to his first kiss. When his lips left hers for a moment, he whispered, “We will think only of good things on this moon.”

“That pleases me, my husband,” she agreed, and kissed him again, eager to let their unclad bodies speak for them now.

As their kisses deepened, Chase’s left hand cupped and fondled her right breast, savoring the feel of that firm mound within his gentle grasp. He trailed kisses down her smooth throat, letting his lips then tease her taut, aching peaks. Macha gasped her pleasure and soon he was lost in the wonder of their love and smoldering passion. His fingers drifted over her bare flesh and gradually moved lower and lower until they reached the moist silken heat of her womanhood.

Macha squirmed in delight and increasing arousal as he pleasured her with his skilled hands and lips. Eager to share her joy, she sought and found his manhood and also tantalized
him to writhing need. Knowing that ecstasy awaited her, she did not hesitate to head toward it.

They kissed and labored lovingly and generously until they could wait no longer. And as they joined together and moved as one, neither let thoughts of what lay ahead distract them from this magic they had found.

On a beautiful and tranquil Lakota dawn with a woman of that name beside him, Chase said it was time to head for the Red Shield camp. They packed their possessions, embraced and kissed, and mounted their horses. They gazed at each other for a minute, exchanged smiles, and rode away to face their destiny…

Miles south of the Badlands on the White River, many days later, Chase and Macha had halted to rest and water their horses and refresh themselves amidst concealment by an obliging landscape. Before their departure, he used his fieldglasses to study the terrain ahead and sighted riders in the distance. From years long past and what he’d learned since his return, he recognized the three men as Pawnee warriors. But it was the small and frightened burden clutched before one of them which astonished and angered him. His narrowed gaze scrutinized the situation as his mind sought a cunning and safe plan for rescue.

Chase hurried to where his smiling wife awaited him. She questioned his dark scowl. “Three Pawnee ride toward the river not far away,” he explained. “Tokapa is with them. I must free my brother’s son.”

Macha stared at him in shock, then asked, “How will you do so, my husband? What trick will you use to get close to them? What will happen when Tokapa shows he knows you and they attack?” She did not doubt his prowess, but could he, she fretted, defeat three armed and strong foes? Yet, she knew he must try to do so.

“Surely they will halt to rest and water their horses at the river,” Chase reasoned. “When they do so, I will circle behind
them and lure them away from him. Then, you will sneak to that place, seize him, and ride swiftly to safety. After I fire upon them and challenge them, they will leave a small child behind to pursue me, for they cannot fight while holding him.”

“What if I lure at least one or two from where they halt? If all do not pursue you, I cannot battle those who stay there. If one or two are provoked to chase me, you can sneak up, defeat he who stays behind, and rescue the boy. After he is safe, you can save me from the others.”

“It is a perilous risk, my wife, for you are a great temptation. If my fight is long, you could be injured or slain before I reach you.”

“That is a challenge we must face, my husband, and pray the Great Spirit travels with us. We must free Tokapa before he is harmed or lost. Do not fear, for I am a good rider and my horse is swift and skilled.”

Chase admitted to himself that her plan was clever, but was worried as Pawnee did not hesitate to slay even a female of an enemy tribe. He wondered how they had captured Wind Dancer’s only child and why he had sighted no rescue party galloping behind them, but he lacked time to ponder the mystery. “Your plan is cunning and brave, but more risky to you than mine. I cannot risk sacrificing your life to save Tokapa’s. If we fail here, we will trail them and find another trick to use.” If necessary, he would fetch Grattan to the Pawnee camp beyond the Platte River to demand his nephew’s release, as the treaty ordered no hostilities and raids against other tribes; and surely the Army would want to avoid a war breaking out between enemy nations. Too, Grattan was in his debt.

After all preparations and strategies were finalized, Chase mounted and headed in a northwesterly direction to flank his targets, the rolling surface masking his presence until he could position himself to initiate his part of their daring ruse. As he departed, Macha used the fieldglasses as she had been taught in the past to observe the unfolding event, ready to act when the melee began and praying for victory for both of them.

By the time Chase topped the last knoll, he knew what he would say to provoke them:
It is a bad day, Pawnee. You are
going to die soon. Do not be afraid. Come! It is time to fight.
He stared at the Pawnee who had dismounted at the river and shouted to them in Lakota,
“Anpetu sica, Palani. Ecana nitin tke. Kopegla sni yo. U wo! Kiza iyehantu.”

As he rode closer and halted midway between his three objectives and the hill, Chase saw the startled warriors leap to their feet, face him, and shield their eyes from the brilliant sun, as they stared in disbelief. He motioned them onward with his left hand, sent forth insulting laughter, and shouted for them to hurry up and come on.
“Inankni yo! Hiyu wo!”
When they continued to stare at him as if he were crazy and to whisper amongst themselves, he told them to get out of there if they were too cowardly to accept his challenge.
“Tu we canwanka, letan kigla yo!”

Chase saw them scan their surroundings, no doubt to see if he was a decoy for a trap. “Are you old women or warriors?” he shouted. “Do you fear to battle me? Do you fear dishonor and death at my hands? Run away, Pawnee; flee this area, for you stain the ground and air with your weakness.”

Two of the warriors bounded upon their horses and came charging at him, whooping in anger and bravado and shaking bows clutched in their hands. “We fight atop the hill so the Creator can see who lives and dies,” Chase yelled, and then galloped back to the one he had crested a short time ago, for the high and sloping ground gave him an advantage. Once there, he dismounted and fired a shot, taking down one opponent to even the odds, then cast the rifle aside and jerked out his knife to let the other Pawnee know theirs was going to be a hand-to-hand fight.

The warrior, who had slowed his pursuit when his companion was slain, fox-yipped in rage and rode toward him. With one agile movement, his foe was off his horse, then cast aside his bow and also drew his knife.

“Come, Pawnee dog, and fight me to the death if you have the skills and courage,” Chase sneered with the intent of unsettling his opponent. He prayed he could defeat his enemy and fast, because the third man was still with Tokapa. He knew Dawn would attempt to save the boy, even by jeopardizing her
own safety and survival. If he was slain or badly injured, he agonized, that would leave her and the boy at the men’s mercy.

As soon as Chase showed himself atop the hill and captured the men’s attention, Macha began to make a stealthy approach toward Tokapa. When only two of the men departed, she pulled her knife from its sheath and prepared herself to attack the third enemy. She knew her only hope of success—and survival—rested in catching him by surprise and striking a severe and disabling blow, a lethal one if she was lucky.

As she crept closer, the warrior—who had been sneaking wary glances to all four sides—focused his full attention on the slaying of one companion and the hilltop struggle of the other. She dared not even peek in that direction, as her love’s peril would distract her. It seemed to her as if the nearby target was tempted to join his remaining friend and was struggling hard not to intrude on another’s battle. She used great caution, fearing the little boy would see her and give away her presence.

Poised to do her task, she prayed for the Great Spirit’s protection and help.
Give me skills and courage like those of Dewdrops if only for a short time so I can save her son as a gift for all she did for our people.

Just as Macha was about to take her last steps toward the enemy, the agitated warrior headed for his horse—she assumed—to aid his friend. She knew her beloved’s chance for survival would lessen when faced with two opponents, so she raced forward to overtake him and plunged her knife between his shoulder blades. The stunned warrior arched backward, gave forth a shriek of pain and surprise, and whirled to confront his attacker. As he did so, Macha reached out, stole his knife, gripped its elk-horn handle with two hands, and lifted it above her head. The instant he faced her, she lunged the weapon downward with all the force she could muster and buried the second blade in the center of his chest.

The Pawnee’s hands grasped her throat and squeezed as tightly as he could in his wounded state. Their gazes were locked, as if their minds did mute combat. Macha used both
hands to shove and twist the knife several times to inflict more damage and to embed it deeper, hopefully within his evil heart before she lost consciousness.

She saw the man’s hate-filled eyes slowly glaze with the grim reality of his fate. When his grip weakened, she gasped for air to calm her spinning wits and ease her throbbing head. She watched him collapse to the ground and remain motionless. Her body trembled from her exertions and with relief. It was only then that she realized Tokapa was tugging on the bottom of her dress and begging to be lifted into her arms. Feeling weak and shaky, she sank to the grass and gathered the frightened child into her embrace and tried to soothe him with gentle hugs and soft words. As he nestled against her chest, her gaze traveled to the hilltop, but only the horses were in sight. She deduced the two men were battling on the other side on the knoll, out of her sight.

Macha was hopeful that her husband would win that struggle. She was tempted to go to his aid, but had promised to retrieve the child and to flee, in the grim event he was defeated and the last Pawnee returned to the river. She felt it was her duty to obey him, so she returned to her horse, placed the child on its back, swung up behind him, and rode for the place where she prayed Cloud Chaser would join them. Her husband was convinced that if the Pawnee won their fight and discovered Tokapa missing, the warrior would not track her toward the place from which he had been stolen and perhaps encounter a larger search party of vengeful Lakotas. If her beloved did not come within a set time, she was to head for the Red Shield camp.

Chase fought his enemy with every ounce of strength and every skill he possessed. With great difficulty, he pushed aside worries about his wife and nephew so he could focus fully on the hazard nearby. Only by finding victory in that battle could he survive and remain unharmed to go to their aid soon. They had danced around each other, landed blows with unarmed hands, delivered kicks with nimble feet, and slashed out with
sharp blades. So far, only the Pawnee had received cuts, and those were minor ones; yet, blood flowed freely from them.

Chase perceived that the man was becoming more agitated with each successful strike on his body and stain on his honor. He tried to stay calm and alert. The Pawnee lowered his right shoulder and charged toward him, a movement Chase evaded. While doing so, Chase swiped his blade across his rival’s stomach and opened up a wide and deep gash.

The Pawnee whirled to confront him again, one hand pressed against the gushing wound. Chase faked a lunge at his left shoulder, sidestepped at the last moment to duck around his right, and slid his knife across the warrior’s right thigh, creating another grave injury. While the man was slowed, he hurried up the knoll and looked toward the river. Tokapa and Macha were gone; the third Pawnee lay still on the ground.

Chase turned and watched the man stagger up the incline toward him. He saw his opponent’s gaze narrow and chill, and sensed desperation was settling in on him. “Mother Earth does not want to drink Pawnee blood on Lakota land,” Chase declared. “I have what I came after. The boy you stole—son of my brother Wind Dancer—has been rescued. If you halt your battle now, you can ride away. The choice is yours.”

The warrior looked toward the river where his last companion lay dead beside his horse and noted the captive was gone. His gaze returned to his challenger’s. “I choose to live or die fighting you, half-breed.”

“So be it,” Chase conceded; then their struggle was renewed.

Within five minutes, the warrior lay dead from his own decision.

Chase lifted his head, closed his eyes, and thanked the Great Spirit for his victory and for saving the lives of Macha and Tokapa. As soon as he arranged this grisly scene to make it appear as if the Pawnee had quarreled and fought and slain each other, he could join his wife. Before that occurred, he had to make certain that any soldier or Pawnee or Crow passing by would be misled by his cunning ploy so no trouble would result from his actions.

First he retrieved the bodies using the Indian’s horse, since he didn’t want shod tracks found in that area, then he arranged the fallen warriors to match it and shoved an arrow into the one bullet hole. He left their possessions and horses, as anything missing would imply an attack and ruse, and he knew the animals could graze and drink until they wandered off to freedom.

After his task was done, a weary but pleased Chase washed off their blood in the river and returned to his horse a good distance away. He pulled on his boots, having removed them to also prevent leaving their prints on the ground behind, mounted, and headed for the happy rendezvous spot.

When Chase joined them where the White River flowed between two sections of the Badlands, Macha and Tokapa were thrilled to see him. As he embraced his wife and kissed her, the boy she was holding wriggled into his arms and patted him on his cheeks with pudgy hands, laughing as he did so.

Chase chuckled. “It is good to see you, Tokapa.”

Macha’s fingers teased along his back as she said, “As it is good to see you, my beloved and victorious husband. You were brave to challenge the Pawnee.”

Chase grinned and jostled the boy as he related the news of his battle and his subsequent ruse. “Tell me of yours,” he coaxed as the child squirmed to get down and toddle about the area.

As they walked behind the energetic boy and watched him, Macha told Chase how she had sneaked up on her target, slain him, and escaped with the child. “The Great Spirit rewarded us with large gifts this sun,” she concluded, joy shining in her eyes.

Chase looked at her throat where small bruises were forming from the Pawnee’s strong fingers. He was lucky she was alive and unharmed; yet, a jolt of fear shot through him as he realized how close he had come to losing her forever, and at his doing. “Yes, He did, and I have thanked Him many times during my ride for helping us. You showed great courage and cunning,
and I thank the Creator for saving your life, for mine would be empty of joy without you.”

“As mine would be without you. Do we camp here?”

“It is best to travel until darkness nears to get far away from the trouble left behind,” Chase explained. “Tokapa can journey with me if he so desires.”

The boy wanted to sit with Chase, and grasped the saddle horn eagerly. Chase realized Tokapa remembered him and seemed to feel at ease in his presence. Having ridden with his father, Tokapa appeared to enjoy being on horseback. With one arm resting across the boy’s waist to prevent a fall, Chase nudged the sorrel’s sides and they departed.