"Has the whole country gone mad?" John asked Sam Dunham angrily as they walked together after a
shooting drill one afternoon.
"S
ometimes it seems that way. A person
just doesn't know what he should do." Just like some of the others
,
Sam was torn between the loyalty he had sworn to his country and his sense of right and wrong. "I used to think it was all so simple. Guess I was just as pigheaded as Chivington. But ever since you told all abo
ut those Indians, well......."
"They are
people like you and me, Sam, and as such they deserve respect.
They were here first and no matter what Chivington would like to have you think
,
they have
been pushed and provoked into dangerous behavior
." John wondered what Skyraven's reaction would be to him now.
Would she shun him? Would she see him as her enemy
? Dear God, he hoped not.
"I think Chivington wants to exterminate them so that all this land can be divided up. He wants them to be angry
. W
hy else would he be threatening to hang that Ind
ian brave we have imprisoned?"
"Hang him?"
"That's what he said.
I have no doubt but that the
arrogance
of that Indian fella is really what’s bothering old
Chivington
. Either that Indian doesn’t know English or he’s just being stubborn. He won’t talk to anyone, hasn’t said a word in all the time he’s been here. It’s driving the colonel wild. He thought he could get some information from him and now he’s been
threatening to hang him
publicly
, outside the fort
,
as a warning to the Indians." Sam mimicked Chivington's voice. "It will
strike the fear of God and the Army in their heathen hearts."
"
that will mean
there can be no turning back, no hope at
all for peace. He can't do it, Sam."
"If that's what he wants to do
,
then he'll do it. Right no
w he is drunk with power."
"Yes, he's drunk all right, only its the rest of us who will feel the effects of his stupidity." John thought a moment. "What do you know about the
captive,
Sam. Do you think perhaps it would be worth it for me to talk to him?
”
"Talk talk to him? Why?" Sam shook his head. "I don't think that would be a very good idea. He does seem rather wil
d. Probably a Ute or a Sioux."
"I have to try something, Sam. Chivington hasn't issued the order for the hanging yet. Perhaps if I could convince the brave to at least act as if her were cooperating then his life might be saved. It's worth a try."
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lone Wolf p
aced back and forth in his make
shift jail cell like a trapped animal.
Being caged like this made him rage inside.
The soldiers had
transferred
him from their prison to this small boarded
-
up part of the stable. It was cramped, dirty and had no windows so that he couldn't see the sun or moon, could not tell if it was
day or night. White men--how he hated them!
They hadn
't given him any decent food--n
o buffalo meat, just beans and something they called hard tack. Now they threatened not to give him anything at all if he didn't loosen his tongue. Well, he would die before he would ever gi
ve them any information.
F
rom the first
, their manner
of treating him had done little to ma
sk
their contempt for Indians. They had attempted to humiliate him into compliance, but he wouldn't break. Foolish
white
men
, didn't they know that the Arapaho braves were strong? One of his guards had kicked him
,
but he had not even cringed. They had asked him question after question
,
but he had stared into their faces, his own face as hard as stone, pretending that he didn't understand. They had grumbled and they had shouted, but
this had only made him laugh.
In the first days of his captivity, the soldiers had
made threats, ranted and raged
.
Now they didn't even come to look in on him
.
His punishment
,
he supposed. Was
his isolated incarceration
supposed to frighten him? If that was what they intended
,
then they had made a very bad mistake
, for all
it sparked was his fury. They only proved that they were cowards, afraid to deal with him as a warrior. Now they only pushed his
meager food offerings
through a slat at the bottom of the door. No one
even looked in
on him. He could be dead by now for all th
ey knew
. H
ow h
e wished that someone would come and open the heavy door of this stock
ade like cage
. He could easily overpower any of the white men he had seen so far
, any but
that big giant everybody referred to as Colonel Chivington. He had never seen such a big man
,
except perhaps Roman Nos
e, the Northern Arapaho chief.
Lone Wolf walked up and down, wearing a path across the hard-packed dirt floor. What were they planning to do with him? Keep him locked up until he withered away and died? Starve him? Kill him? Their attitude infuriated him, as if he and not they were the intruders. They had no right being here in the first place. This fort was built on
Indian territory
. The tribes should have run the whites out a long time ago. How foolish his tribesmen had been to think that no one c
ould make peace with
coyotes
.
He
knew he
had to get out of this square log box but how? Maybe he could dig out from beneath it or through the sod roof. Most of the other buildings were of stone
,
but this one, down by the stables, was part of
the stable itself
. He had heard one of the bluecoats making a joke, saying that it was only fitting that he be placed with the other animals, away from their own quarters up at the other end. It had taken all of Lone
Wolf''s
self-control not to pounce on
the bluecoat.
If they said he was an animal
,
he could act like
one,
could kill. He had
instead ignored their insult, for he
was only interest
ed in one thing: e
scape. If he could
figure a way to get out of this stinking cell, at least the horses would be
close by.
He was looking up studying the roof, trying to judge its strength whe
n he heard a creaking sound. At last someone was opening the door
. Folding his arms across his chest
, he
sat dow
n and awaited his visitor.
The soldier
standing at the door of Lone Wolf’s cell
held a gun pointed right at
the Indian’s heart, ruining any plan he had of fighting his way to freedom, at least for the moment. "I don't know about this, Major
, even
for an extra ration of tobacco,
"
he said to the other white soldier beside him.
"He's a dangerous one all right. I've been given strict
orders not to open this door."
"I'll take full responsibility, sergeant. If it makes you feel any better
,
you can stay here while I
interrogate
him." Lone Wolf glanced up to see a ta
ll, yellow haired bluecoat, the man who was talking.
"Interrogate him? Hell, he don't know no English! Been silent as a mute all the time he's been here except for a grunt and a growl or two. A savage if I ever saw one. One thing for sure I can say. He's stubborn as a mu
le and down right unpleasant."
"Maybe you would be too soldier, if the boot was on the other leg." John looked at the tiny room in disgust. There was no furniture, not even a chair, just dirty hay. The room
hadn’t been cleaned and
stank of horses. "If you were a prisoner of his people, shut up and half-starved you might not be cordial either."
John knew the soldier meant to stay and
he shut the door with his foot. He
would
have
preferred a private meeting with the Indian, but he was lucky to be able to talk to him at all.
What he had to say would just have to be
said in front of the sergeant.
"Well, I hadn't quite thought of it that way. Guess I would be angrier than a polecat.
" Despite his empathy, the sergeant kept his gun sight
ed on Lone Wolf's chest. "
Whatever it is you have to ask him, it
better be in a hurry. I'll be off duty in a fifteen minutes and George Herbert just migh
t not be as obliging as I am."
"I won't take long." John appraised the Indian
and noted that he himself was being scrutinized also
.
The Indian
was strong and
his face
exhibited a great deal of pride.
John wondered what tribe he was from, but didn’t know enough about the various tribes to tell. Sioux? Not Ute, he wasn’t dark-skinned enough.
Cheyenne
? Arapaho?
I
must be careful with this soldier
, Lone Wolf thought
. The yellow-haired man did not look like the other foolish bluecoats
. Intending to prove beyond a doubt that he was not intimidated by the white soldier, Lone wolf stood up and face John man-to-man.
“Careful…..!” warned the bluecoat guard.
Even now, though he was within the sergeant’s site, the
Ind
ia
n showed no fear. He was a brave one, all right, John thought. How tragic that he must be treated this way. Though h
is buckskin leggin
g
's showed the dirt and tears of his fight with the soldiers
, and he appeared unwashed, there
was
still
a ce
rtain nobility about him
, as if he were one of tho
se at the top of his tribe's
hierarchy. Remembering his stay at
Lean Bear
's camp, John made the hand gesture for peace
he had seen the Indians use
, trying to communicate with
the prisoner,
and saw a gleam of recognition in his eye.
Lone Wolf was surprised by John’s sign
language
.
None of the other bluecoats had known the gesticulation for peace.
Still, he would not let his heart be softened. This man was a soldier, just like all the others and therefore just as guilty of putting him in this cage.
“He ain’t gonna answer, I tell you. He hasn’t up till now.”
“I want to try.” John felt like a fool as he went through hand motions as best he could in an attempt to get his meaning across. He made a sign like a tepee, trying to communicate that he had visited an Indian village. He would never get anyplace unless he managed to win the Indian’s confidence.
“Aw, you’re wasting your time, Major. He’s either ignorant or just plain mean. Like them two
Cheyenne
old Sedgwick and that other officer killed. Lame Dog, or whatever he was called.”
Lone wolf attuned his hearing. What was this?
“His name was
Lean Bear
, Sergeant.”
Lone Wolf
’s blood pounded in his temples like war drums. Lean Bear had been killed! Now more than ever,
knew he must get out of here.
The dog soldiers would never allow the death of their beloved chief to go unpunished. Bull Bear, the dog soldier leader, was the brother of Lean Bear. Now was the time of retribution for the whites. They would drive them all from the land. No more talk. The Indians needed him now more than ever.
“And Lean Bear was far from being ignorant or mean. He was a very noble, peace-loving man,” John told the sergeant. Strange, John thought, but for someone who supposedly was unable to understand English, the Indian seemed to be reacting—and strongly—to the news of Lean Bear’s death. Maybe his not knowing English was all a ruse so that he wouldn’t be badgered by his captors. If that was so, then he
was
a damned sight smarter than anybody else at the fort, for most
assuredly
he had fooled them. John was determined to watch him carefully to see if his theory was right.
“Aw, I know what you and all the do-gooders say, that there are good Indians and bad ones. Only problem is, how the hell are we gonna tell the difference. There sure as hell are those that rampage and scalp. How we gonna know if they are peaceful or not
Skyraven's b
eautiful face flashed before John’s
eyes. They had been so close to finding happiness.
“
From
what Skyraven told me, the southern Arapaho and southern
Cheyenne
are peaceful, the northern denominations of those same tribes tend to be a bit more troublesome. And of course the Utes are warlike.”
Skyraven
? Lone Wolf glowered at the yellow-haired soldier as he suddenly realized that this was Skyraven’s soldier, the man she had chosen over him. He couldn’t control the low-throated growl that came from his throat, a noise John didn’t fail to notice.
"Don't know what it is you said
,
but something kinda riled him. He
ll, maybe he does understand."
Realizing that he had nearly given himself away, Lone Wolf sat back down, turning
his back to the two soldiers.
John was certain that he did
understand
, yet he played along with the Indian
’
s game. "Oh, I don't know. I doubt it, soldier. He probably just didn't like the way I was looking at him.
”
"Yeah, maybe........"
"If he did understand,” John continued, “
I'd
sure
tell him
that he’d better cooperate with the chief of this fort. It means his life. And I’d sure urge him to tell us about what happened that day of the Indian raid so that if he
is
innocent of any wrong-doing, it can be known.
"Innocent? Innocent! Makes me want to puke when you and all them Indian lovers try to take the Indians side. Truth is they are thieves. They stea
l cattle. They steal horses."
And we have stolen their land
, John thought
. “Ah yes, the cattle. Tell me something, Sergeant. You were at the battle. Did you see any of the Indians leading any cattle? According to some of the other soldiers, there isn’t really any
proof of that. The Indians
we questioned say they
found the cattle, wandering about loose on the plains. Isn't it at least possible that somehow they got out of their pen? It
wouldn't be the first time."
"Begging you pardon, Sir, but I think you are gullible if you think that, but don't let it be said that I argued. Anyway, It don't mater. It's time for you to go. Even if he did know what you were saying it do
esn't matter. From what I hear
tell you're wastin' your time. Ole Chivington has given orders that this one is to be hu
ng."