Murder at Medicine Lodge (12 page)

In those moments, as we watched Hears The Wolf and The Cheyenne Robber ride out, I wondered if Billy truly sensed the gravity of the situation. His expression, partially hidden by the shade of his broad-brimmed black hat, was totally blank. He also wore a long gray coat, brown cloth trousers, knee-high black boots, and a rust-colored shirt. Billy looked like a white man, but as he fell into step between myself and Skywalker, he carried himself like an Indian.

He never knew the name of his Kiowa father. None of us did. Billy had been born in Texas. As Texas was a favorite raiding ground, his father could have been anyone. It never fails to break my heart when I ponder the others; children with Kiowa blood doomed from birth to walk the knifeblade-thin road drawn between two very different worlds. Billy had come halfway back to us but still he teetered on the verge of the final decision of exactly who he would be. I wanted to pray for him. Filled with anguish, believing our time of friendship was running out, I wanted to pray for Hawwy, even pray for myself.

I didn't know how.

*   *   *

The Blue Jackets had been talking among themselves. Whatever they had discussed left Lieutenant Danny looking not at all well. William sat close to him, keeping one dark eye on us as we approached while talking in soft tones to the lieutenant sitting huddled behind, knees drawn up to his chest, breathing with effort, almost panting through a partially opened mouth. I noticed that his lower lip looked tender, bleeding lightly in the places his teeth had worried chapped tissue. He tensed as we approached, his pale eyes beginning to glisten.

As we lowered ourselves to sit before the soldiers, I forced myself to look away from Lieutenant Danny, looking instead at William. He sat with his legs crossed, arms hugging his midsection as he slowly rocked himself. William looked angry, his mouth tight, expression fixed. Feeling my stare, he looked up at me. Anger faded as his full lips began to quiver with a hopeful smile. When I couldn't bring myself to return the attempt, he hugged himself harder, lowered his head, and went back to rocking.

Little Jonas sat with his spine slightly curled, long legs splayed out. Muscular forearms resting on beefy thighs, his menacing eyes narrowed to slits. I quickly began to wonder what The Cheyenne Robber had done with that strong rope. With dismay I realized that when last seen, it had been hanging from The Cheyenne Robber's saddle. Mentally I cursed him for having gone off, taking our only means of restraining Little Jonas. The big black man growled to Billy.

“Where is The Cheyenne Robber going?”

“He's looking for anything that might help all of us.”

“And if he can't find anything?”

Billy's expression became tight.

Little Jonas considered at length, then said, “You tell The Cheyenne Robber that I had a good time. That I didn't know Indians could be fun people. And make sure you tell him that I understand. That I don't hold anything against him because we're both soldiers and this is what soldiers have to do. Tell him I have a good mirror in my pack. He can have it. But the mirror is only for looking at his beautiful self, not for sending attack signals.”

Billy and Little Jonas emitted sad little chuckles.

Smoking a cigar, Sergeant Hicks looked off in the direction The Cheyenne Robber and Hears The Wolf had disappeared. Then his eyes slowly slid toward the hobbled and grazing horses. Ever so slightly, he turned his head, his eyes coming to rest on the bundle containing every one of their rifles and pistols. That's when I knew that Hicks was the kind of man who bided his time. I could almost hear him thinking that there were only the two of us now—three, if one counted Billy—while there were six of them. He blew out a plume of smoke as his gaze became locked on the bundled guns beside Skywalker.

Perceptive as ever, Skywalker calmly drew out one of the pistols and just as calmly aimed it at Hicks's heart, cocking back the hammer. Hicks's answer to this was a slow smile, another puff on the cigar, and a nod.

Beside him, Cullen reached inside his jacket, removing a small cloth package. From this package he withdrew a clammy-appearing clump of black tobacco. Hatred for us glittered in his eyes as he bit off some of the tobacco. He chewed slowly as he retied the cloth, replaced it inside his jacket. Then he spit a brown stream to the side, wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

I looked at Skywalker and said, “With all my heart I wish we could find something that proved that man guilty.”

“We all do,” Skywalker said.

Hawwy coughed to pull our attention toward him, then slowly, his hands half raised, he approached the fire, nudged the empty coffeepot with his booted foot. “Choi [coffee],” he said, his question meant to ask if we could make more. For a long time all Skywalker and I could do was stare up at him with open mouths. Didn't he understand just how serious the situation was? Hears The Wolf had already decided that if he and The Cheyenne Robber didn't find anything, not one trace of usable evidence, that we would then have to talk among ourselves about our choices. It would not be a long talk, for it seemed to us that we only had the one choice, and that was to run back to Lone Wolf with the news that while we were very sorry, we'd had no choice but to kill all the Blue Jackets, which now put us at war with the army.

We felt catastrophic failure hovering over the camp that was just a small, packed-down grass circle, a little dot of nothing in the middle of that great sea of prairie. Our failure was as dark as the clouds quickly filling up the sky, crowding out any hint of blue. The air was turning fresh, chilly gusts bowing the surround of grass, rattling seed pods and sending tiny seeds to fly on the wind. I looked at the sky, watching the churning clouds as I waited for Skywalker to say something, say anything. Because I couldn't. I felt ill, my stomach twisting, my throat so tight I could barely breathe.

Skywalker nudged me and I turned brimming eyes in his direction. In a tone so soft it was almost a whisper he said, “It would be a good thing for you and Hawwy to have … time, together.” He looked quickly away. “And coffee would be nice.”

Wordlessly I rose, went to where Hawwy was, and picked up the empty pot.

The two of us didn't talk much as we puttered around, looking for likely fuel to make a fire. I dearly wished Hawwy would chatter in that way of his, but he didn't. I couldn't say anything either, for my heart was busy breaking. Even though he was a Blue Jacket, Hawwy was my friend. I really didn't think I would be able to stand around while he was killed. I knew Billy wouldn't be able to do it either, which meant Billy would probably die too. At last I knew how to pray, and I prayed nonstop that The Cheyenne Robber and Hears The Wolf would find something.

I was still fervently praying as Hawwy and I built up the fire, then used the last of the water from the canteens to fill up the coffeepot. I prayed harder as I measured out coffee grounds and then put the pot on to boil. It was in the middle of this last prayer that Skywalker's voice reached me.

“I am sorry for the things you're feeling.”

I looked up at him, the anguish inside me so overwhelming that I was becoming physically ill. “I lied to you,” I rasped. “I lied when I said to you that he isn't my friend.”

“I know.”

I looked away, tears I didn't want him to see, burning my eyes.

“I have decided something very important,” he said. “I have decided that it no longer matters to me who you choose to be your friend, for you are my brother. Brothers are closer than friends.”

Somehow a laugh spilled out of me. “You would raise me up to be an Onde?”

“No. You've raised up yourself.”

I looked at him in disbelief.

“It's true,” he whispered.

Before I could make any reply to this considerable honor, Hears The Wolf and The Cheyenne Robber came flying in at a gallop.

EIGHT

“Look what we found!” The Cheyenne Robber cried. He threw something to the ground before leaping down from his horse.

Skywalker and I hurried to the spot, to find an army saddle lying at our feet. Skywalker knelt down, his hands exploring the leather saddle which, after being abandoned to the elements, was in a sorry state. There was a leather bag tied to the saddle. Hears The Wolf dismounted hurriedly and stood with his hands on his hips, staring down at the saddle while The Cheyenne Robber went right on talking in a loud, excited tone. Skywalker listened as he worked loose the knot keeping the bag's flap closed.

The Cheyenne Robber said, “The only thing out there are the prints we made. The rain cleared away everything, even rabbit spoor. We were coming back here when I said—”

“No, you didn't,” Hears The Wolf yelped. “I said it.”

The Cheyenne Robber turned an angry face toward his father-in-law. “Does it really matter who said it?”

“Yes, it does. Especially if you're going to make yourself the hero of this story. And for another thing—”

“Will you two stop it!” I shouted. They both looked at me, their expressions shocked that I had dared to correct them. “It isn't important who said what,” I said more evenly. “Just tell us what happened.”

They both glanced at Skywalker, expecting him to address my impertinence. Skywalker merely grinned and concentrated on the saddlebag's knot.

Confused, his head turning on his neck as he looked from his brother to a wide-eyed Hears The Wolf, The Cheyenne Robber spoke. “We decided it would be a good idea to turn south, toward the army camp, making our way back here by that means. It was then that I”—he thudded his chest with his fingers, his eyes daring Hears The Wolf to correct him—“spotted bent brushwood. And it was I who thought this might be significant.” Folding his arms over his swelling chest, he said smugly, “It was. Whoever threw this saddle away tried to hide it, but the saddle's weight made that patch of scrub bend wrong. That's why I saw it.”

Now that I'd heard the report, I was more interested in what had been found. I crouched down beside Skywalker as he finally loosed that hard knot.

“What's in there?”

Tugging at the contents of the bag, he said, “It feels like clothing.”

Pulling it out, we saw a soldier's uniform, pants and jacket. The uniform was spattered with dried blood, and stiff in all the places blood had soaked through the wool material. There was one stripe on the jacket's sleeve.

“This is the proof we need,” Hears The Wolf crowed. “This proves that soldier killed soldier.”

That was most certainly true. Something else equally as important, the nagging worry about what to do with the six Blue Jackets, could be set aside. I was so relived on account of Hawwy and Billy, that for a few seconds I was giddy. Then I glanced at Skywalker, wondering, now that the crisis was past, just how firm the offer of brotherhood would be. Apparently we did not share the same thought for, when we both stood, he turned away from me and called for Billy to bring Hawwy. When they arrived, Skywalker solemnly showed him the jacket.

“I have to have this to show my superiors,” Hawwy said.

Skywalker snatched the uniform jacket away. “Not yet.” he turned to Billy, speaking rapidly. “Tell Haw-we-sun that while I might trust him, I do not trust anyone else in this place wearing this same type of jacket. This proof of White Bear's innocence will stay with me until we return to the camps. That is my decision.” As Billy turned, Skywalker placed a hand on Billy's arm and said meaningfully, “There is no need to tell him anything else.”

Dark color came into Billy's cheeks. He spoke crisply to Hawwy, repeated only what Skywalker had said about the uniform. He made no mention of how close all of them had been to death. But Hawwy knew. All I can conclude is that either he was extraordinarily brave, or he had too much faith in my ability to prevent Skywalker from shooting him. I'll never really know for certain. It was the one subject neither of us were anxious to discuss.

Now that we had proof of White Bear's innocence, any interest on the part of Hears The Wolf, The Cheyenne Robber, and Skywalker, as to the identity of Buug-lah's real murderer, fell into a sharp decline. Their only plans for the immediate future was to take in the uniform as proof that White Bear didn't do it, and then allow Lone Wolf the honor of dealing with the generals. All of the Kiowas, even me, were in good moods as we erased the evidence of our camp, saddled up our horses. But there was dissension among the Blue Jackets.

Hawwy was standing off and talking to Billy when an argument took place between Lieutenant Danny and Sergeants Cullen and Hicks. Hawwy didn't notice that part, but he did look up when the two sergeants became physical with the young lieutenant. Hawwy yelled, “Hey!” then took off in a run to the junior officer's aid. The two black soldiers, leading the horses from the grazing field, froze. The Kiowas became very still. Cullen and Hicks were not affected by Hawwy's sudden shout. They were so intent, they reacted not at all. Cullen was livid, his hands on his hips, his upper lip curling back over his teeth, his stare boring into the younger man. Hicks had grabbed on to Lieutenant Danny by the front of his jacket and was still holding him tightly and growling into the younger man's blanching face when Hawwy arrived and made him turn Danny loose.

Hawwy's angry arrival, his yelled threat of “going on report,” calmed down the two sergeants. Seeing that Hawwy had the minor situation under control, Skywalker, Hears The Wolf, and The Cheyenne Robber lost interest. Each were leaders of men. For them, it wasn't an unusual thing for a war chief to break up fights occurring among warriors. This was a thing chiefs did. I, on the other hand, was a virtual stranger to the war trail, so of course everything would affect me a tad more profoundly.

While all the others made ready to leave, I watched while Lieutenant Danny earnestly assured Hawwy that the brief disagreement was not important. While he did this, he kept glancing at Hicks and Cullen, who were standing behind Hawwy and sending the lieutenant threatening looks.