The Circuit Rider (20 page)

T
he
Paiute had found a narrow vertical slab of rock that rose like a column from
the earth.

The
surviving white man had been tied to the rock, the ropes circling his chest,
pinning his arms, and binding his feet. His hat was gone from his head, and his
shirt had been removed.

He
had been given a small amount of water to bring him back to consciousness.

Now
he looked with panic at Bird and Tower.

“You
have to do something!” he yelled.

There
was a large bruise on the side of his face and a swollen knot just below his
hairline. His eyes were wide and unfocused.

“We’re
doing something,” Bird said. “We’re watching.”

Tower
said quietly to her, “They’re going to torture him. I don’t think I can let
that happen.”

Bird
looked at him.

“What
exactly do you plan to do about it? Get us killed so he won’t be tortured? Because
they’ll just kill us, then torture him anyway.”

Tower
glanced over at the Paiute men. Half were with the medicine man; half were by a
small fire, sharpening their knives.

Tower
approached the group surrounding the medicine man and focused his gaze on
Yenata.

“Tell
them that if you’ll let me,” Tower said, “I can bring this white man back to
Platteville to stand trial for what he’s done.”

The
young Paiute translated, but was cut off when Wumaga rattled off a burst of
words.

“You
will not take the prisoner,” Yenata translated. “It is not against the white
man’s law for a white man to kill a Paiute woman. He would not be punished.”

Tower
held out his hands. “I can only make a promise of my words. But as a servant of
my god, I can’t stand by and let a man be tortured and murdered. No matter how
much he deserves it.”

“No.”

Tower
looked at Bird, whose expression told him he was close to putting them in
danger. Some of the braves who had been near the fire were now standing
directly behind both of them.

“I
think I agree with the Paiutes, Preacher,” Bird said. “I just want to get some
information out of him before they put those knives to use.”

Tower
turned back to Yenata.

There
was a soft shuffling of leather moccasins on the dusty lava rock and then a bright
explosion of pain rocked Tower’s vision.

As
he fell to the ground, he caught a glimpse of Bird doing the same.

T
he
screaming awoke Bird.

She
lifted her head; the dawn’s early sun stabbed into her eyes, shifting the pain
that already enveloped most of her head and focusing it, making it a single
searing flash of white-hot agony.

Bird
closed her eyes, but a fresh set of screams brought her around again.

This
time, the pain diminished enough for her to take in the scene before her.

The
white man tied to the column of rock was now bathed in his own blood. There
were hundreds of small cuts all over his body. His pants had been removed, as
had his boots. The cuts were in neat lines across every inch of his body.

Bird
guessed the man had stopped bleeding and was moments from death.

He
opened his mouth, and Bird saw that his tongue had been cut out as well.

She
looked away and at her own situation. She was on the ground, her hands tied
behind her back. Her back was against something firm but not hard. It wasn’t
rock; she could tell that. She twisted her head to get a glimpse behind her and
saw the top of Tower’s shoulder. Bird guessed that he too was bound, and they
had been placed back-to-back.

She
pushed back against him.

“Tower,
wake up,” she said.

“I’m
awake.”

“Good.
You got us into this situation, now get us out.”

Bird
felt him test the bindings on their wrists.

“That
won’t work,” he said.

She
let out a long breath as the man screamed one more time. To Bird, it sounded
like it might be the last.

“I’ve
got to get a look at that girl’s chest,” Bird said. “Wumaga said there was a
pentagram on the woman killed back in Platteville, but I didn’t see one on the girl
who died.”

“Let’s
stand up,” Tower said. “Push against me and slowly walk your way up to your
feet.”

It
took them several tries before they were standing.

“Now
what?” Bird said.

The
Paiutes were all gathered around the white man, watching him die. They were
having an animated conversation, briefly interrupted by laughter.

“Try
to twist your way toward me,” Tower said.

Bird
struggled to turn, but the bindings were tight.

“I
don’t think — ”

Before
she could finish her sentence, a shot rang out. Bird looked toward the torture
session, figuring the Indians had grown tired of the game and simply put the
poor bastard out of his misery.

But
she was surprised to see an Indian flat on his back, blood pooling behind his
head.

The
other Indians scattered as a lone bugle sounded, its warning bouncing around
the vast array of lava rock.

The
army had arrived.

T
hey
tried to move to take cover, but their feet became tangled and they crashed to
the ground. Or, as Bird noted with no small amount of satisfaction, Tower
landed on the lava. Bird landed on Tower. She heard his breath go out of him
with a whoosh.

Gunshots
were echoing all around them. One bullet hit close to Bird, and her face was
stung with shards of stone.

She
heard the Paiutes yelling, soldiers cursing, and the rattle of hooves across
the surface of the lava desert.

It
was over in a matter of minutes.

Bird
tried to look from side to side, to get a survey of the battlefield, but all
she could see was the first Paiute who had died from the initial shot and her
horse, wandering a hundred yards away, its bridle swinging with each shift of
its weight.

“Any
guesses as to who might have won?” Bird said.

“I
doubt anyone did. The Paiute scattered because, from what I could see, there
were a lot more soldiers. The Indians know this place better than the army. They’ll
get away, live to fight another day.”

“How
about us?” Bird said. “We going to live another day?”

The
sound of a boot on gravel sounded near Bird’s ear.

“We’ll
have to see about that,” a voice said.

She
tried to look up, but because of the way she was bound, she could only see to
the tops of the man’s boots.

Black
leather boots, befitting a man in the U.S. Army.

“Soldier,
help these people to their feet.”

Another
set of boots came into Bird’s line of vision and then she was hoisted, with no
small amount of gentleness, to her feet.

Tower
was right.

The
battle hadn’t been much of one. Two dead Indians and one soldier, who was being
tended to by a fellow soldier.

And
the man, now dead to Bird’s way of seeing, still tied to the rock. A pair of
vultures circled above.

She
also noted that the other young Paiute girl was gone, along with any chance of
Bird finding out what may or may not have been done to her.

“I
would love to hear how you happened to be out here with a Paiute war party
while they tortured that man to death over there,” the first soldier said.

The
man had gone to stand in front of Tower, so Bird couldn’t get a look at him. But
his tone of voice had the moral superiority she always seemed to hear from army
officers.

“And
do you mean to tell me you’re a preacher?” the officer said.

“I
am,” Tower answered.

“Why
don’t you untie us and let us explain everything,” Bird said over her shoulder.

“I’ll
be happy to,” the officer said. “Only so I can separate you. See, the bad news
is I’m going to be tying you right back up again.”

“And
why is that?” Tower said.

“Because
you’re both under arrest.”

T
hey
arrived at Fort Stewart and were immediately taken to the commander’s office. It
was a short, squat building with a heavy wooden door.

Bird
and Tower were placed on a wooden bench that ran along the far wall of the
commander’s office.

Once they were
seated, a group of men entered the small space. A man of medium height with
thinning brown hair took a seat behind the room’s only other piece of
furniture: a wide mahogany desk.

“It’s
from Pennsylvania,” the officer said. “I paid quite a bit of money to bring
that along with me. But culture, and the fine objects it often produces,
deserve a home even out here in this very definition of
nothingness
.”

His
voice is high and squeaky
, Bird
thought.
Like a rodent.

“My
name is Captain Hays, and I am the commander of this region. Young Officer
Stewart here tells me you were being held against your will by the Paiute war
party who committed the atrocities in Platteville. Yet you were not harmed. Do
you care to tell us why?”

“I
charmed them with my feminine wiles,” Bird said. “And my whiskey. Lots of
whiskey. Speaking of, do you have a drop to spare? Good liquor is a sign of
culture, isn’t it?”

Hays
glanced at her, then Tower. He nodded to a junior officer, who fetched a bottle
and filled three glasses, then undid Bird’s and Tower’s restraints.

With
her hands free, Bird drank Tower’s whiskey, set the glass down, and picked up
her own.

“Now,
what was your question?” she said.

Before
the commander could speak, Tower straightened in his seat.

“Sir,
I am simply a preacher riding the circuit, and Ms. Hitchcock here is providing
security as we make our way, eventually, to San Francisco.”

“Hitchcock?
Bird Hitchcock?”

Bird
raised her glass. “Nice to be recognized.”

“We
had nothing to do with the torture of that man. What you might like to know is
that he most likely was one of the men responsible for the abduction and rape
of at least two young Paiute women. I’m sure you or the law in Platteville are
investigating.”

Hays
smiled. “Mr. Tower, I am the law in Platteville and everywhere else for
hundreds of square miles. Yes, the incident in Platteville is still under
investigation.”

Bird
thought about mentioning Tower’s experience as a detective but kept it to herself.
Especially as she was going to point out that she suspected Hays could use the
help.

“I
request that you release us,” Tower said. “So that I can help the people of
Platteville. I believe my services would be better utilized there than here. In
the stockade.”

Bird
took advantage of the lull in the conversation to help herself to another glass of the
commander’s whiskey.

Hays
looked at Tower, then Bird. He drummed his fingers on the mahogany of his fine
East Coast desk.

Then
he glanced at the other officers in the room.

“Release
them. I don’t have time for this,” he said. “Besides, if I keep them here any
longer, my whiskey supply will be severely drained.”