To Dream Anew (11 page)
“You can’t be serious. You want me to work with … with her?” Portia was obviously disgusted by the idea. “I won’t work with Negroes. It’s bad enough to have them in the house—living under the same roof.”
Dianne opened her mouth to reply, but Cole threw her a look that silenced her. “Portia,” he said, turning to face her, “you forget your place.”
“And your manners,” Dianne muttered just loud enough to be heard.
“These are desperate times. We must work together as stated earlier. You will cooperate with my directions or you will need to leave and go elsewhere. Do you understand?” Cole asked.
“So if I don’t do things your way, I’ll be thrown out? That hardly seems the Christian thing to do,” Portia said, her words dripping sarcasm.
“Neither is it Christian to condemn a person for the color of her skin,” Cole said frankly. “We need every man and woman here to see us through this crisis. Either you stand with us—or you stand against us. If you’re against us, you’re no better than the enemy we’re fighting against. I won’t have the enemy inside my own home—do you understand me?”
Portia surprised Dianne by turning all teary. “I’m so sorry. It’s just terrifying me. I can’t think straight.”
“It’s understandable, but you need to stand firm,” Cole said. “We all need to stand firm. There’s no telling what might happen tomorrow, but if we hold on together, we’ll stand a better chance of dealing with it … whatever
it
may be.”
The meeting left Portia feeling more than a little bit angry. She returned to her room, slammed the door shut, and tried to figure out what course to take next. She longed for a bottle of whiskey, something to drown her sorrows and frustrations in.
“They’ve all gone mad,” she murmured. She was a prisoner in a strange sort of asylum, and everyone was insane except for her.
“I’ll make them all pay for this one day. Just see if I don’t.”
For a moment she considered Dianne’s offer of money and a horse. Perhaps she could ride the horse to Virginia City, then sell the beast and have enough money for a stage to Corrine and Then the train to Denver. Denver had been a nice town with decent prospects.
“But if the Indians truly are coming this way, the stage might not even be leaving Virginia City … or coming there.”
She walked to the window and stared out on the corrals below. “I’m trapped. Trapped and helpless to remove myself.” Portia rested her forehead on the pane. “There has to be another answer. There has to be another way.”
A
UGUST WAS UPON THEM, AND THE DAYTIME HEAT LEFT THE
men and animals parched and weary. Life in the mountains of the Montana Territory was an exercise in adaptability. The days could be blistering hot, while the nights could send you to huddle in your blankets.
Zane felt that kind of chill even now. His men felt it too. They were wrapped up in blankets trying desperately to sleep and prepare themselves for the encounter with the Nez Perce. Zane wasn’t sure if it was the discomfort of the cold or the events to come that caused such mass insomnia.
The Indians had been making constant progress toward the east since thwarting the army’s efforts to keep them contained in Idaho. They’d moved steadily through the Bitterroot Valley and were now camped in the Big Hole Meadows. The soldiers had worried that perhaps the band would double back into Idaho, leading them on a wild chase that would perhaps end in a trap. But scouts returned with word that the Nez Perce had indeed crossed the Continental Divide and were headed east.
Zane didn’t like the sound of that. Straight east would lead The Indians into the area of his sister’s ranch. There was no time to warn her or the others that resided along the way. It made him all the more desperate for the army to continue to close the lead on the tribe and take them under control.
Now as they waited restlessly for dawn to make their move on the Nez Perce camp, Zane couldn’t help but relive so many other attacks. The anticipation of what was to come was both exhilarating and sickening. He knew there was within this tribe a group of men responsible for murdering white settlers. He knew too that these men—if not the entire group of Nez Perce—would not come back willingly to the reservation and a white man’s court.
“Lieutenant Chadwick,” a voice whispered, “rally your men.” It was Zane’s captain.
“Yes, sir.” Zane sat up stiffly. The night cold had put an ache in his joints.
“Leave everything that is nonessential to combat,” the captain further instructed. “Leave the blanket rolls, overcoats, extra clothes. Leave it all. We’ll be back soon enough for it.”
Zane roused his troops and instructed them. “If we can take them by surprise, then maybe no one needs to get hurt.”
“You mean no one on our side, right, Lieutenant?” one of his men asked with humor in his tone. Zane said nothing.
They all went on foot, with exception to Colonel Gibbon and Adjutant Woodruff. Moving down Trail Creek, they turned to follow the low foothills. Zane quickly caught sight of the Indian fires. They’d found the camp—just as they had known they would.
Halting before reaching the watery slough that separated them from the camp, the soldiers waited in silence until exactly four o’clock—at least that was the best reading Zane could make of his pocket watch. The skirmish line then headed out through a swampy area of cold water that reached waist deep for some men. Beyond this, willow brush caused the men to break the line. A dangerous situation, Zane noted, but there was nothing to be done about it.
He heard his heart pounding in his ears as the troops advanced. Zane had hoped they would strive to negotiate with Chief Joseph and the other chiefs, but the army was bent on complete control. No compromise. No parley.
Without warning, four shots rang out. And then the destruction was certain. Guns fired from up ahead. Zane’s men advanced at a more rapid pace, stopping just short of the camp. Crouching, they waited momentarily as one of the other companies moved in ahead of them.
“Fire into the tepees, low and steady boys. We’ll catch ’em while they sleep,” someone called out.
Zane stood and motioned to his men. He’d barely taken a step forward, however, when he felt a rock hit his head. At least it felt like a rock. But as his vision blurred and white searing pain poured down over his face, Zane knew he’d been shot. In another second, he took two bullets in the leg before blackness overcame him.
For all of their precautions around the ranch, no one was more surprised than Cole when Koko’s brother, Takes Many Horses, made his way into the house unannounced and unseen.
At the sight of the Blackfoot warrior, Faith cried out and dropped the pan she’d been greasing. “Oh, you gave me a start,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t recognize you for a moment.”
Dianne was snapping beans at the table and had nearly jumped from her chair when Faith hollered out. “We weren’t expecting you,” she said in greeting. The tremor in her voice, however, left no doubt that she had been just as shaken as Faith.
Takes Many Horses frowned. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m on my way north.”
“I thought you were already up North,” Dianne said, putting her work aside. “Are you hungry?”
Faith retrieved her pan as Portia rushed into the room with a revolver. She pointed it directly at Takes Many Horses. “I’ll kill the heathen—get out of my way, Dianne!”
Dianne put herself between Portia and Takes Many Horses. “You will do no such thing. This is Koko’s brother.”
Portia’s expression hardened. “It doesn’t matter. He’s Indian.”
“Put the gun down, Portia,” Cole said as he came into the kitchen behind Takes Many Horses. He appeared completely unmoved by the scene. “Go about your business, Portia.”
The woman seemed particularly annoyed to be dismissed. Dianne couldn’t help but be proud of the way Cole took charge of the situation. She moved to stand between her husband and Koko’s brother. “I’m sure you have plenty of mending to do since Faith doesn’t need your help here,” Dianne announced.
Portia finally turned to leave. “Doesn’t seem we have very good protection if an Indian can walk right into our kitchen,” she muttered as she exited the room.
Dianne hadn’t had time to consider that fact. She looked to Cole and shook her head. “We don’t have very good protection, do we?”
“I saw your riders,” Takes Many Horses said before Cole could reply. “Is something wrong?”
“The Nez Perce are warring, and of course Sitting Bull and his people have yet to be captured. Rumor has it that there isn’t a tribe in all of the territory that doesn’t plan to kill us in our sleep,” Cole answered. “We had hoped to set up a perimeter of guards to keep an eye out for attack.”
“If attack comes from an entire nation you’ll probably have plenty of warning,” Takes Many Horses said with a grin. “If it’s just a few men like me, you’ll be hard-pressed to catch them.”
“And a few men like you could burn us to the ground and leave us all for dead,” Dianne said without thinking.
“I didn’t know you thought so poorly of me,” the Blackfoot replied with a sly smile.
“You know what I meant,” Dianne replied. “You have stealth and years of experience in sneaking around places. Most Indians train in the same manner.”
“Well, I won’t be here long. I need to push on. The army is after me—heading this way.”
“Is it Zane’s regiment?” Dianne asked hopefully.
“I don’t know. They’ve been after me for two weeks now. I’m considered hostile, you know.” He smiled in his lopsided manner.
“Why are you here?” Cole asked.
“I need supplies, and I wanted to see Koko.”
“I’ll put some things together,” Faith said, hurrying to the pantry.
“Koko’s in the back. I’ll show you the way,” Dianne said. She caught Cole’s expression and could tell he wasn’t pleased to have this latest guest. She wondered if he worried about how it would look—especially when the army showed up. “You’re in luck. She’s alone. My sister is elsewhere, so you won’t disturb her.”
“I don’t understand,” Takes Many Horses said.
Dianne shook her head. “There isn’t time for you to understand at this point. I’ll explain later.”
There wasn’t much time to consider such worries, however. Takes Many Horses’ visit was brief—no more than an hour. Koko longed for him to stay, as did Jamie, who absolutely admired his uncle. All the while, Dianne prayed Ardith would stay where she was helping Charity braid rugs. She feared that seeing Takes Many Horses would set the poor girl into nightmarish fits.
“I have to leave. The army will be here within a day—maybe two.”
“I wish I could go with you,” Jamie said, pouting.
“You need to stay and take care of your mother and sister,” Takes Many Horses admonished. “They’ll need you to be strong in the days to come.”
They all walked outside to bid Takes Many Horses good-bye.
He seemed reluctant to leave, but Dianne knew he would disappear as quickly as he’d come. He didn’t want to bring trouble upon the ranch, and no doubt he already felt guilty for even coming.
“If one of the horses disappears from the far corral,” Cole said in a hushed voice, “I won’t worry about it. Especially the black—he’s especially fast.”
Takes Many Horses met his eyes and nodded. Dianne could only pray that all of her men had gotten word that this man was friendly and not the scout of some war party.
“Thank you for your help,” Takes Many Horses said to the group, but his gaze was fixed on Dianne. “I needed to see my family, but I’m sorry if I’ve put you all at risk with the army.”
“We’ll be fine. Just get on out of here before they show up,” Cole said sternly.
A day and a half later, the army showed up as Takes Many Horses had predicted. Dianne was relieved that it was not yet seven o’clock in the morning. Portia wouldn’t be up yet to comment to them about Takes Many Horses’ arrival.
“Hello,” Dianne said, meeting the small group of mounted cavalry. She held a rifle in front of her and tried to appear completely calm. Cole and some of the men hurried to the house as the captain began questioning Dianne.
“We’re on the trail of a renegade band of Blackfoot.”
