Eagle People (27 page)
Suddenly it was quiet, except for the injured and dying, who were moaning, groaning, or screaming. Off in the distance, someone coughed.
“Everyone, remain in place! Stay right where you are!” Mongoose yelled.
An hour passed before she spoke again, “Dog Soldiers, check the enemy who are down. Those that are not dead, help to the other-side. Leave none alive.” Then, she turned slowly, in a complete circle, as if taking in the casualties and destruction of the enemy. She then asked, “Sergeant Dooley?”
“Yes, ma'am?”
“Get one of your men to get me a count of our wounded and dead. Have another team of two, one counting and one guarding him, find out how many dead the Northern Plains People have.”
“Yes, ma'am. Stokes, Wilson, count the enemy dead. Wilcox, see to our people and get a clear number on our casualties.”
“Will do.” Stokes said.
Wilcox, already walking toward the inner circle replied, “Give me a few minutes.”
Mongoose walked to Amon and gasped before she said, “You've been wounded.”
“Arrow through the foot, but I'll still ride this morning.”
“Sergeant, can you help Amon to the circle? He's a foot wound.” She squatted, broke the shaft and then pulled the arrow from the wound. Blood flowed freely.
Dooley walked to the two, looked the injury over and said, “Best and fastest way to get you there is to pack you. Just lean forward at the waist and I'll pick you up with my shoulder.”
Amon grunted with almost every step, mainly because the man's shoulder was digging into his ribcage. Once at the circle, Mongoose removed his shoe, looked the injury over closely and said, “You're very lucky, or so I think. There has been some tendon damage, but not nearly what I feared.”
Wilcox walked to Dooley and said, “Sergeant, we have three with arrow injuries, all minor and no dead, inside the circle. Outside the circle we have two dead and four injured. One of the injured has a serious injury to his lungs and is not expected to make it.”
Mongoose smiled and said, “Many less dead and injured than I feared. The guns made the difference.”
“That they did, ma'am.” Sergeant Dooley replied with a grin.
Wilson approached and said, “Over a hundred dead for the Northern Plains People, actual count is 127. Most were injured, but all are dead now. From the tracks, I estimate maybe 75 lived long enough to retreat.”
Mongoose said, “Everyone, listen up. We leave in an hour. I want the injured care for and they will ride in the wagons. Harness the horses to the wagons and if you're going to eat today, do it now.”
“Today?” a female voice asked.
“Yes, today. I suspect our cooking fires were spotted last night and while the enemy was already watching us, the fires allowed them to pinpoint us. Our next meal will be dried beef and that will be near dusk. Let's move, people, we need some distance between us and this place.”
Amon asked, “Do you think it's safe to move?”
“Yes, the Northern Plains People have just lost more than half their manpower, so I don't expect them to be stupid enough to attack us anytime soon.”
“I'll get a few teams of Dog Soldiers moving around us and Dooley, if you'll put one of your men on point and drag, I'll supply the outriders.”
Dooley yelled, “Wilson, you have point of the way out of here and Wilcox, you're my drag man.”
“I hear you.” Wilson replied.
“Got it.” Wilcox said and then grinned. He enjoyed drag, because he felt it was the safest place to ride.
“Now,” the shaman said, “I have to pour some whiskey on Amon's foot. I will then sew the injury closed on both sides. While I boil my tools and thread in water, I highly suggest you make a big dent in this bottle of whiskey, my friend.”
Amon smiled through his pain and said, “Don't worry about me, I'll take the pain, but I do enjoy a few good sips of whiskey now and again.”
The shaman laughed and once he grew serious said, “Remember, no walking or standing on this foot for a couple of weeks. It may cause you pain for the rest of your life, but it's hard to say at this point. Pain I'll give you, I promise, and in only a few minutes, but you've been warned.”
Amon picked up the bottle, took a long swig, and followed it with another. By the time the needle, thread and tools were boiling, he was drunk.
When the needle first pierced his skin, Amon gave a loud gasp, but kept his mouth shut. Warriors of the people were expected to ignore pain, and he'd do his best.
Thirty minutes later, his foot wrapped, he grinned and said, “That wasn't as hard as I thought it'd be.”
The shaman smiled, met his eyes, and then said, “Bullshit.”
Mongoose walked to them and said, “Go to your horses, we'll leave in a few minutes.”
Sergeant Dooley heard her comment and then yelled, “I want my point and drag men in place now. Let's move, people, we've miles to cover.”
The day was long and rough for Amon, especially when his foot started hurting and the ache wouldn't go away. He refused the strong drink and would continue to do so, until they stopped for the night. Once stopped, he'd take a long chug, or two, and was looking forward to the drink.
At the supper fire, Dog Soldiers reported all was clear, as well as the point and drag men. They'd stopped after crossing a deep stream, just to dry out, when Mongoose decided to call it a day, and to let them cook. They'd had a hard fight, some were injured, and many, even the healthy ones, needed rest.
We've covered over ten miles and that's enough after a big fight like we had this morning,
Mongoose thought.
The meal was beef roasted on a spit, freshly killed, and cornbread. The People had had cornbread since they could remember and it was easy to make, since they grew corn. They had a small mill that used water from a stream to crush the corn, so they could make cornmeal. The Cheyenne Mountain People had flour, but used a different system to grind wheat, which Mongoose found interesting.
Sergeant Dooley said, “Our mill uses huge stones, and the wheat is first husked and then our mill grinds the wheat into almost a fine powder, like dirt, maybe. We use a three-step process. We have eggs because we caught some wild chickens, years before I was born. As I said before, we also have domesticated some cows, sheep, dogs and cats.”
“Do you use the milk from the cows?” Amon asked.
“Yes, of course we do. It's good for baking and drinking.” Dooley replied.
“I've never tasted cow's milk.” Mongoose said.
“Never?”
“No, but only because we never thought to capture a cow. Our hunters usually take only steers, leaving the females alone, so they'll produce more cows.”
“Good plan, in my eyes.” Amon said.
“It's good cold.” Dooley said.
A young woman, who Mongoose recognized as Lilly ran to their fire and said, “I need help! My son was just bitten by a snake!”
Mongoose stood and said, “Amon, you and Dooley look for the shaman as I go to the boy. I will give first aid and try to determine the type of snake. Now, go.”
Mongoose, spear in hand, and the woman ran to the boy. She recognized the young man as John and when near enough, she asked, “Where is the snake, John?”
“In the . . . grass, or was, on . . . my left. See . . . the bush? He was right . . . in front of it . . . when I . . . was struck. It is . . . starting . . . to hurt.”
“I need to see the kind of snake and kill it if possible.”
“See . . . what kind, but . . . don't kill it.”
“Why not?”
“It was m . . . my fault. Let . . . snake . . . live.”
Mongoose looked and in front of the bush was a huge prairie rattlesnake, maybe four feet long. Using the tip of her spear, she flipped the snake into the bushes and watched as it slithered away. Turning to John, she pulled her knife, cut two deep X's on each fang mark and began to suck the poison from his leg. As her mouth filled with blood and poison, she'd lean over and spit the distasteful liquid to the ground. She disliked the coppery taste of the blood and the sour taste of the poison, but it was the only way she knew to treat him. Twenty minutes later, the men weren't back yet and John's leg was almost three times the size of his other one.
One thing at a time,
she thought,
get the poison out first, then worry about the leg swelling. Every snakebite I've ever seen swells, so this is normal.
“Lilly, start me a fire and then run back to my campfire and bring my leather bag to me. It is on the ground near where I was sitting, now hurry.”
As soon as the fire was burning, with hungry flames eating at the wood, Lilly ran away.
“John, how do you feel?”
“Hurt . . . bad. Leg too . . . tight.”
“The venom causes the swelling, but I have only seen the old and very young die of snakebite. If you are healthy, you'll be fine, but there will be pain.”
Lilly returned, but Amon and the shaman were with her.
“You've done well, my chief, and there is little for me to do, except give the young boy some whiskey for his pain.” the shaman said.
Amon asked, “Where do you want me to take him?”
“First, it was a prairie rattlesnake, was it not?”
“Yes, but John told me not to kill it.”
“He is a good boy then. The snake was only protecting itself and didn't attack because it was aggressive. John is wise in the ways of snakes and will one day be a man filled with compassion. We should not kill things just because they are acting as they are expected do. Now, Amon, if you will pick him up, take him to my fire.”
“Can I come too?” Lilly asked, her face red from crying.
“Sure, and Lilly, he will be fine. He's a healthy young man and has nothing to worry about, except for pain.”
As they walked away, Mongoose stood and scanned the area, stopping when she spotted a lone rider watching them from half a mile away. The rider watched for close to five minutes and then rode back over a crest to disappear.
I need to get the Dog Soldiers on that rider, she thought, or we might have another attack coming.
Near her fire, she saw Albert, a Dog Soldier, talking with Dooley. She walked to her spot, lowered her bag and said, “Albert, to the south of us I spotted a lone rider watching us a few minutes ago. I want you to take another man and find out who that rider was. I suspect he's a scout of the Northern Plains People, but I need confirmation.”
“I'll take Rufus with me and we'll check it out for you.”
“Albert?”
“Yes?”
“Use care. The rider I saw looked confident and sure of himself. I could not identify his tribe, but I know he felt my eyes on him and yet, he didn't move. He, or she, may be dangerous.”
“We're well trained, so I'm sure we can handle what comes up, but we will be cautious too. We want to see, without being seen. That is a the way of a Dog Soldier.”
Ten minutes later, Albert and Rufus walked from camp. Both men were experienced warriors, with many battles behind them, which gave them confidence. They'd both been Dog Soldiers for years, and that meant they were experts at moving silently and unseen over any terrain. Both men figured they'd find her lone rider and soon, too.
We'll be back before the first shift change,
Albert thought as he pulled his steel sword taken from a dead Mountain warrior some weeks back.
ON THE HILL
where Mongoose had seen the rider, there were no tracks to be seen—nothing. Both men were expert trackers but they saw absolutely nothing. Searching in small grid-like patterns they were about to turn away when Rufus said, “Here, I know how his tracks remain unseen.”
“What have you found?”
“A strand of rough cotton, something from a homespun shirt, maybe.”
“I don't understand.”
“The rider may have covered the hooves of his horse with the material and if so, it will make it hard to track him. When the hooves are covered, the horse leaves less of a print.”
“What now? I see no tracks or indications where the man moved.”
“We'll just walk in an ever widening circle and eventually see something, maybe.”
“Won't the cotton keep the tracks hidden?”
“A rider only uses them for short distances. After a few minutes, the horse will lose them or kick them off. I've seen this done once, when were were being trailed by the Wolf People and Willy had us cover the feet of our mounts.”
“Did it work?”
“I'm still here, right?”
“Yep,” Albert grinned and then said, “Switch to sign. No more talking.”
Ten minutes later, Rufus touched Albert's arm and signed, “See?” He then squatted and pointed to a track. “He has moved south.”
“Let's follow at a trot.”
They broke into a slow mile-eating trot that they could both run for hours. Miles were covered and a couple of hours before dark, Albert stopped. He looked at Rufus and asked, “Do you smell it?”
The man sniffed the air like a dog and then nodded. Pointing to the left, he said in sign, “Let's check it out.”
Near a fire, four men were seen and two others were in a shelter. The Dog Soldiers watched as one man yelled, “Cane, bring that boy out here, 'cause I'm hungry.”
As Cane walked to the shelter, Albert gave the men a close looking over. All four were dressed in rags that used to be homespun and they wore no shoes. A single horse was seen tied to a tree behind the men. All of the men had long shaggy beards and hair, but the one who'd just spoken was filthy and when he spoke, Albert noticed most of his teeth were gone or rotted.
Funny,
he thought as he looked at the man,
he's the only fat one of the bunch. He must be the leader. Why no women?