Larkspur (35 page)

The Indian had warned Kristin that he would be back and she had believed him, but Buck had thought it just a brag. He wished now that he had taken the threat more seriously and gone straight to Iron Jaw’s camp and had it out with Runs Fast.

A drover came from the corral leading a long-legged sorrel with Buck’s saddle on its back.

“Ain’t ya better wait and rest up a bit?” Gilly said. “Ya been in the saddle since mornin’.”

“I’ll rest when I get Kristin back, and not until.”

“Bonnie, run get him a canteen of water and something to eat on the way.” Bernie gave his sister a little nudge toward the house.

“I’m going with you, Lenning,” Gustaf said.

“No, you’re not.”

“It was on my watch that she was taken, and she’s . . . my cousin.”

“You’re not going,” Buck said emphatically. “I don’t want to have to be looking out for you. I’ll have my hands full as it is. I doubt he’ll take her to Iron Jaw’s camp, but that’s where I’ll have to go to find out where he might have taken her.”

Buck spoke to the Indian boy in the language of the Sioux.

“You did good telling Gilly about Runs Fast coming to your camp. By doing so we may find the
Wasicun
woman quickly.”

He hung the canteen over his saddle horn and tucked the cloth-wrapped food in one of the deep pockets of his coat. Before he mounted, he spoke to Gilly, who came from the bunkhouse with extra rifle shells that he dropped in one of the saddlebags.

“Stay here at the house. Have the drovers watch the stock so they aren’t run off. I’ll not be back until I have Kristin.” He swung into the saddle and put his heels to the fresh mount.

Chapter Twenty-two

B
uck was almost sick with worry.

He rode toward Iron Jaw’s camp feeling as if he had rocks in his stomach. An hour from the homestead he had taken a few sips of water and had tried to eat a few bites of the food in the pack, but it had stuck in his throat.

It had been some comfort to learn that it was Runs Fast who had taken Kristin and not Forsythe’s men. They would want her dead. The Indian wanted her for a trophy. He would be cruel to her if she did not comply with his wishes, but he would not kill her. Buck wondered if Kristin might not rather be dead than suffer the indignity of being raped by the Indian.

All he could think of was how frightened she must be. He didn’t allow himself to think of what may have already been done to her. He didn’t believe the Indian would rape her . . . yet. He would want to be sure she was not carrying the
Wasicun
’s child and would have one of his women examine her. He cringed inwardly at the thought of how humiliated she would be to be held down and have her legs spread.

When Buck was within five miles of the Sioux camp, he looked for a place where he could bed down until daylight. He knew better than to approach the camp in the dark. He also knew that he needed his strength for what lay ahead, and that meant rest now for him and the horse. He got stiffly down from his mount and led him into an area sheltered from the wind by a thick growth of pines. After unsaddling and picketing the horse, he threw out the bedroll he always carried behind his saddle.

Buck lay down, his handgun and his rifle by his side. It was a cold night. He pulled a blanket up over his shoulders and lay still, hearing the slow heavy beat of his own heart. He tried not to think of Kristin, but his mind returned to her again and again. He saw her running toward him the day Runs Fast caught her down by the creek. That day he had felt like he had the whole world in his arms . . . for a while, until reason took over.

Was she cold? Had that bastard hit her and knocked her senseless before he carried her away? She wasn’t strong like an Indian woman. But she had spunk, she would fight him and not give in to him until her hope of being rescued died. She must know that he would come for her . . . or die trying.

I’m coming, sweetheart! I’ll be with you as soon as I can.

Sleep overcame Buck suddenly. More than twenty hours in the saddle had taken a toll even on his great strength. He slept soundly. When he awoke it was just as suddenly. He was fully alert. Birds were chirping in the branches overhead and the light of dawn streaked the eastern sky. He rolled up his bedroll, then moved around to get the stiffness out of his joints.

After relieving himself, he drank from the canteen and ate one of the biscuits from the food pack. He talked to the sorrel while he saddled him.

“You’re a good boy. I know you’re thirsty. We’ll find a creek up ahead and you can drink your fill.”

Before he mounted, Buck checked the handgun and the rifle. Satisfied that they were ready, he stepped into the saddle. The sorrel was eager to go. Perhaps he understood the promise of water. Ten minutes later, Buck knelt beside a stream and splashed water on his face while the horse drank.

While still several miles from the Indian camp, Buck was aware that his presence had been observed. At one point, he lifted his arm to a sentry who stood on a bluff. The warrior lifted his rifle in response. Buck thanked God that he was known and liked here. He would have to convince Iron Jaw that Kristin was his
wife
and had not gone willingly to Runs Fast’s lodge.

The Sioux respected marriage. Divorce, however, was not uncommon, for no one could hold a Sioux to anything against his wishes. Divorce was particularly easy for the woman. The tepee was hers and any time she was dissatisfied with the husband she was free to throw his possessions out into the village as public notice that she was done with him.

It was also easy for a man to throw his wife away. If she displeased him, he usually got a give-away stick, carved to mean a giving, and threw it at some man who might at least take care of the hunting and the protection of the woman until another man wanted her.

The warrior might take a second wife and even a third, but he usually consulted his wives before adding to their number. Buck doubted the arrogant Runs Fast would do that.

A Sioux maiden learned early in life how to use a knife. She carried one in her belt, ready for work and for defense. She would defend herself at all cost against attack, against any who would violate the chastity rope of soft doeskin she always wore when away from the lodge. Such attacks were rare. Any such attack was punished by being forced to live alone and camp outside of the lodge circle.

The smell of woodsmoke and cooking meat filled the air as Buck rode down the line of lodges to the large one at the center of the camp. An old man stood in front of it with his arms folded across his chest. His face was wrinkled, his hair gray, but his back was straight and his eyes sharp.

“How do, friend Iron Jaw?” Buck held up his hand, palm out.

“How do, Lenning? Come.” Without further ado, he went into his lodge.

A boy appeared to lead Buck’s horse away. Buck dismounted and followed Iron Jaw into the lodge, leaving his rifle in the saddle scabbard, for to remove it while among friends would have been an insult.

Iron Jaw seated himself on a blanket across from a man Buck did not know. Between them was the morning food: Indian bread, a dish of boiled lamb and onions, and stewed gooseberries.

“Sit and eat,” Iron Jaw said, helping himself to a large slab of the Indian bread. “When word came you were coming, I sent for Black Elk. He is cousin to Crazy Horse, nephew to Red Cloud.”

Buck looked at the handsome face of the Indian. Black Elk stared back. Seated on Iron Jaw’s right, he was evidently a man of importance. Buck remembered Gilly saying a group of Oglala Sioux from the south were joining Iron Jaw. Then suddenly it came to him where he’d heard the name.

“I have heard of Black Elk from his sister, Little Owl. Did her leg heal straight?”

“She is walking with two sticks.” The Indian spoke perfect English.

“I am glad.”

“It was much you did.”

Buck shook his head. “It was only what I hope would be done for my sister.”

“Is your sister good to look upon?” A smile flicked across the Indian’s face and was gone.

Buck forced a smile. “I have no sister, but if I did she would not be as sightly as Little Owl.”

Courtesy demanded that he eat the meal before he spoke of his reason for being there. It was hard to wait. He talked of the herd he had driven onto Indian land, and told Iron Jaw about the death of Man-Lost-in-Head. He referred to Kristin several times as his
wife.

“I not know you take wife, Lenning.”

“We married and signed a paper long time ago. I was but a lad. She stayed with her family until now.”

“It is so with our people.” The old man nodded his understanding.

“Runs Fast came to my ranch and wanted to take her away. She would not go. Now she is gone. I must find her. She may be carrying my son in her belly.”

The old Indian’s sharp eyes fastened on Buck’s face.

“You say Runs Fast took your woman?”

“I say she is gone. He came to my house while I was at Wheeler Creek and spoke to Beaver Boy. She is gone. I see moccasin prints.” Buck shrugged indifferently.

“Runs Fast much trouble here. He says he sees vision from the Great Power. He take warriors who follow him and go west to Little Big Horn.”

“Do you know the way he would go? If my wife went with him willingly, I will divorce her and she can stay with him. If not, I want her back.”

“You will fight for her?” Black Elk asked.

“Of course. Wouldn’t you fight for your wife?’

The Indian nodded. “I fight for what is mine. I show you the way.”

When Buck came out of the lodge, he saw Little Owl. She stood with a group of maidens and smiled as Buck came toward her.

“Hello, man from Larkspur.”

“Hello, Little Owl.”

“My leg will not be crooked and I will not limp as I feared.”

“That’s good, Little Owl. Mighty good.”

“Did bad men try to kill you?”

“They came on my land and tried. I killed one. The other went far away.”

“That is good.”

The boy brought Buck’s horse and he mounted. Black Elk appeared on a fine spotted horse. A half dozen warriors were with him.

“Good-bye, Little Owl.”

“Good-bye, man from Larkspur.”

Buck joined Black Elk and they rode out of the camp. The maidens with Little Owl began to chatter.

“He is the one?”

“You never said he was handsome for a
Wasicun.”

“Will he be back?”

Little Owl watched the horsemen leave and hoped that he would.

*  *  *

Del Gomer got off the morning train and walked rapidly up the street to the hotel. In his room he took a gun from a canvas bag, loaded it and put it in a shoulder holster beneath his coat. He checked the load in the gun on his thigh and put extra shells in his coat pocket.

He worked quickly. The expression on his face did not reflect the rage that burned within him. Del had been gone a week on what he called a wild-goose chase. The judge he had gone to kill was not in Bozeman. Del was told that he was away in Helena but that he would be back any day. Del waited, pretending to be a traveling man, keeping his ears open for news of the judge’s return. Every day he was away from Big Timber he became more concerned for Bonnie. Forsythe suspected she and her brother had helped the Anderson woman get out of town. Bonnie needed him, whether she realized it or not.

Del had decided the day he arrived in Bozeman that he was not going to trail the judge to Helena and kill him there, so on the sixth day, when the man had not returned, Del boarded the train for the return trip to Big Timber.

A man whom Del had seen at Bonnie’s restaurant made a point of speaking to him at a water stop between Bozeman and Big Timber. The man, a brakeman, deliberately sought him out and told him that Mike Bruza had gone to the restaurant and had been less than respectful to Bonnie. The marshal had threatened to jail her for pouring hot coffee on Bruza when he grabbed her. The brother and sister had closed the restaurant and left town.

“Guess we’ll have to find another place to eat, huh, mister? Damn shame a decent woman has to put up with the likes of Mike Bruza and a half-ass marshal. Well, I got to get aboard. Thought you’d like to know, seein’ as how you took your meals there.”

Bonnie, Bonnie. My sweet Bonnie. If they’ve hurt you, I’ll kill them. I swear it.

The words echoed in Del’s mind as he left the hotel and went down the boardwalk to the marshal’s office. No one was there. He continued on to the restaurant. The curtains were drawn. A sign on the door said CLOSED. He looked in and saw that the furnishings were still there. Bonnie’s apron hung on the nail beside the wash bench.

Del stood in front of the restaurant for a long moment. The town was wide-awake and going about its business. When he moved, it was to the alley and over to the next street. His long legs quickly ate up the distance to the big house enclosed with a white picket fence.

*  *  *

Colonel Forsythe was seated at the large dining-room table. Ruth moved between kitchen and table, serving coffee or hot bread. A mass of blue bruises and red welts marked her face. Her cheek was swollen, as was the side of her mouth. Her hair was perfectly groomed as usual. A freshly ironed apron covered her dress. She held her head proudly, looked Kyle in the eye and refused to cower. That, more than anything, irritated him enough that he vowed to break her spirit.

When a sharp rap sounded on the beveled glass of the door, Forsythe got up to open it. Del stepped inside without being invited and closed the door behind him.

“Mornin’, Del. Had breakfast? Ruth,” the colonel shouted without waiting for an answer, “set a place for Del.”

Ruth came from the dining room. She looked directly at Del Gomer. He removed his hat.

“Hello, Mr. Gomer. I’ll be glad to set a place for you.” Ruth spoke barely moving her mouth. He looked at her steadily, but not a flicker of expression crossed his face at the sight of hers.

“I didn’t come to eat, but thank you, ma’am.” He turned his colorless eyes on Forsythe.