The Indian Ring (11 page)

Thinking they might again set up an ambush or might be stopping to set up a camp, he went off the road and worked his way through the trees paralleling the road. His hunch was a wise one, as they did indeed set up a camp in a clearing bordering the side road, or trail, actually. He circled around to some wooded high ground south of them and saw he could keep an eye on their camp, the road, and make his own campsite on the opposite side of the small ridge he was on.

Four hours passed, and it was well after dark when five riders, as well as Johnny the tracker, rode into the camp carrying a couple large torches. Joshua watched as they spoke with Robert Hartwell.

“Darn it all!” Joshua said, as he saw Hartwell call his men together and then make their fire smaller, and sent several as lookouts on their backtrail.

By Hartwell's immediate reaction, Strongheart knew immediately that he had been spotted by someone, and they knew he was trailing them. The henchman would not be putting guards up on his backtrail if that were not the case.

Joshua said, “Shakespeare said, ‘Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.' Forget the amount of men you must face, Joshua, just use your brain before you use your guns.”

He glassed around with his telescope, so he could understand the land before him once again. He would enter the enemy camp this night and give them some food for thought. Instead of waiting to see what Hartwell would do, he decided to take the fight to the enemy. He wondered if he could sneak in and do harm to Hartwell himself, but Strongheart thought better of it, knowing that the professional shootists that the killer boss surrounded himself with would not fall asleep on watch, like others would be likely to. He figured, though, that he could indeed do damage to their sense of well-being and maybe cause some sleepless nights, as well as potentially eliminate a few of the enemy.

Using his telescope again, Strongheart surveyed the area around Hartwell's camp and figured approaches and hiding places. He changed into his moccasins, darkened his face with charcoal from his small fire, and retrieved his bow and quiver full of arrows from his bedroll. Leaving Eagle, he went downhill through the trees.

In an hour, he was outside the killer's camp in the dark shadows of the surrounding forest. His plan was simple. He would avoid the part of the camp where Hartwell and his bodyguards slept as he scouted the perimeter. He had already noted where the outer guards were. He had plans for them, too.

Twenty minutes later, he was on his belly crawling through the undergrowth toward the southern part of the perimeter around the camp fire. He saw several guards near Hartwell carefully watching mainly the northerly part of the campsite area. The obvious guard here was propped against a log by the fire, in deep slumber. Joshua low-crawled to the first man and saw he had removed his double-draw holster. Strongheart buckled it and slipped it over his neck and under one arm, grabbed the man's Henry carbine, and crawled into the darkness. He stowed the weapons there and crawled back
into the circle just outside of the flickering light of the campfire. He took this man's holster and gun, buffalo gun, and Henry carbine, as well as a very fancy beaded sheath holding a large bone-handled and engraved Bowie knife.

Then, he thought about the dramatic effect he could really bring with a very bold move. He returned to the man, thought again how this was war and what he did could prevent an even greater catastrophe in the United States. The welfare of the Indian nations and the country was at stake. He pulled out the Bowie knife and felt the blade, which was as sharp as his own knife. Joshua froze as a man sat up suddenly, then just as quickly lay back down and was snoring in less than a minute. Strongheart hated to kill this way, but again thought about the greater good, and he placed his hand firmly over the outlaw's mouth and nose and sliced his throat. He held the kicking man until he no longer moved. Then, he raised the knife and brought it straight down into the saddle that the man had been using for a pillow. He crawled to the next man, stole his guns, and crawled away into the darkness.

At his cache of weapons, Strongheart got on his feet, slinging various holsters around his shoulders. He carried everything off toward his camp. He was upset with himself for slitting a man's throat while the man slept, but he knew it was something he needed to do to gain an edge. Joshua knew when the man's body was discovered, it would really unnerve many of the members of Hartwell's gang. He put .45 rounds in with his own cache of bullets, and figured out how many of the weapons he could use. He knew he would be in some running gun battles, so he would bundle rifles together behind his saddlebags and bedroll and use them when necessary, discarding the long guns if need be.

Now Joshua was ready to return to take on a bigger challenge. Johnny the Shawnee tracker was one of the sentries
that Hartwell had sent out to watch their backtrail. He was hunkered down between several small leafy trees overlooking the main trail back to the farm where Joshua had been held. He had a good clear field of vision on the road, but unfortunately could not see much behind him because the foliage was so thick. It also blocked out a lot of moonlight.

The Shawnee tracker was disciplined, as he had been taught as a child, and sat very still. Joshua had to sit above him in the trees and watch with his telescope for twenty minutes before Johnny moved slightly, slowly to look behind and beside him. However, his movement occurred exactly when the Pinkerton was holding the spyglass in his direction. Telescopes and binoculars help one see much better at night, as they capture available moonlight, starlight, and any other light to help one see objects more clearly in what seems like virtual darkness.

With a fellow red warrior, Joshua had to use much more stealth this time. He moved slowly down the ridge, bow in hand. He would have to take Johnny from more of a distance, but it was very important to the detective to kill Hartwell's tracker, as it would have a tremendous psychological impact on the gang. He was still bothered about slitting the man's throat, and decided he at least had to have this Shawnee looking at him when he killed him. He would, however, definitely kill him.

Joshua moved down until he was close enough to easily shoot him with an arrow. The whole way down the ridge, Strongheart stared to the right and left of the Shawnee, as many warriors have a highly developed sixth sense, a sense of knowing. He knew if he stared at the Shawnee, even his back, the man would sense it. Quite often, this starts with a shiver running down the spine or similar phenomenon. This happens with animals who are often prey, such as deer, so
Strongheart when stalking deer or elk for meat would never look directly at the animal, but usually a few feet behind it.

At one point, Joshua froze as Johnny looked around to his sides and directly behind him, but failed to see the motionless Pinkerton in the shadows. Strongheart was in place now, and stood facing the unwitting tracker's back. He would not launch an arrow into it though, but at least let him see what was coming. He nocked an arrow and slipped his index, middle, and ring finger on the bowstring ready to draw, while his left hand gripped the bow. The nock of the arrow was firmly against the bowstring and nestled between the first two fingers.

Joshua drew the arrow, held at his anchor point at the back of his right cheek, and softly said, “Shawnee.”

He saw Johnny's shoulders jump up with a start, and then the tracker whirled, trying to draw a pistol. Strongheart released the arrow, and it passed cleanly through Johnny's left lung, nicking the heart. He looked down and clutched at the hole, and reached back toward the exit hole in his back. Blood streamed from both wounds, and he quickly felt the life draining out of him. He slid down the trunk of the tree with his back against its rough bark, but Johnny never felt that. He looked at Strongheart and gave him a little smile and slight nod. His eyes closed, and his breathing stopped.

Joshua had to move quickly to get back to his campsite before dawn. He had to get a little sleep, some nourishment, and then move on to his next challenge. Within minutes of returning, he was fast asleep and not concerned about being discovered. His hideout was far enough away that he would not be discovered except by some fluke.

•   •   •

Joshua's mother sat on the edge of his bed and smiled at him when he opened his eyes.

“Where am I, Ma? What happened?” he said.

Smiling softly, she said, “You are in bed, Joshua. You have had a very bad experience, but the doctor said you will be fine with rest. Do you remember what happened?”

The fourteen-year-old boy looked down at his body under the goose-down quilt. He was naked, and he could see four straight lines going down his right rib cage on an angle and crossing over onto his belly under his navel.

He thought for a minute and remembered he and Dan had been out hunting for an elk or mule deer for the family coffers. They had split up and decided to work both wooded sides of a large draw. The ridges were steep, and they walked along the draw keeping fairly abreast of each other's location by using bird whistles occasionally.

Dan was following a set of tracks of what appeared to be a large buck, which he knew probably was bedded down somewhere above the head of the draw. This was something old bucks frequently did, so they had a broad sweeping view of anything approaching up the draw and it carried strong breezes. They also could get over either ridge in case of trouble. He also knew that big bucks did this instinctively and could not actually reason such things out.

Joshua was following a narrow game trail through the trees and went around a bend silently and slowly and froze. There before him, not twenty feet away, was a large tom mountain lion on top of a fresh deer carcass. The doe's neck was broken and twisted in an odd way. The big cat had just about finished eating the entrails. Strongheart knew that was the first part of a deer that cougars ate after making a kill. The lion looked at Joshua, laid his ears back, and bared his fangs, hissing. A low growl began in the big cat's chest, his ears were back, and then Joshua saw the big tail start swishing back and forth. He knew from his hunts with Dan
and hunts with Lakota in the villages that swishing the tail back and forth like that was what mountain lions did right before making a charge. They normally shied away from humans, but he had come upon this one eating a fresh kill, which the cat would protect. Joshua slowly raised his rifle and aimed at the lion's forehead. It was too close to aim at his chest and take a chance on wounding him. A cougar like that could cover over twenty feet in one leap. The animal's muscles tensed, and Joshua took a deep breath and let it out halfway. The cat sprang, took two big strides and leapt at his face. The shot rang out and the lion hit the ground after crashing into Joshua, his left front paw scratching him where the marks were now. They bled some but were bad scratches and not deep cuts like his father Claw Marks had from the grizzly. The cat crashing into him was two hundred pounds of dead weight and, landing on top of him, knocked the wind out of him, plus his head snapped back and slapped into a log. The sky spun around in circles as he panicked and fought to regain his breath. Then everything went black. Dan found him with the dead mountain lion on top of him.

He awakened in his room at home with his mother babying him, and it was one of his warmest memories. Like most males of any age, Joshua loved getting babied by his mother when hurting. On top of that, he had stood in the face of danger and done what was needed, while maintaining a cool head. We develop poise and confidence in life from little successes, and this was a big success that was important in Joshua's personal development.

His mother bathed his head with cool water, and he closed his eyes. It was so soothing. He opened them again and looked into the deep, bright blue eyes of Annabelle Ebert. His head was in her lap, and she was rubbing his face with a cool wet piece of petticoat. Annabelle Ebert: This was the woman he
loved and planned to marry. Suddenly, the door burst open and seven-foot-tall Lakota maniacal killer We Wiyake, Blood Feather, stood there with Strongheart's Bowie knife in his hand, ready to plunge it into Belle's back. The sun was bright behind the killer in the doorway, almost blinding.

Joshua wanted to scream no as he sat bolt upright and opened his eyes, his chest heaving.

He looked around and realized he was lying next to his campfire. Shards of fiery bright sunshine streaked through a break in the wooded canopy above as the late morning sun bathed Joshua in an all-out attack on his eyesight.

He had just relived his most common dream and blinked his eyes against the bright morning sunlight, rubbing his eyes. Strongheart immediately looked over at Eagle grazing nearby. The horse's ears were his large danger signals. If the horse's head was up, ears focusing a certain direction, nostrils flaring in and out, Joshua knew danger was approaching. They were not though and the horse grazed contentedly.

Strongheart grabbed his telescope and ran through the trees to his vantage point where he could see Hartwell's camp. He immediately began grinning as he saw the activity below. The rest of his men had joined the camp and were bringing in Johnny's body, and Joshua saw Hartwell throw his hands up to his face and then sweep them downward in frustration. The Pinkerton chuckled out loud. He saw some of the gang members gathering around the other dead bodies he was responsible for, and noticed their heads were down and some were shaking them. He knew he first had to defeat this superior enemy in their heads, and then he could more easily defeat them on the ground.

Strongheart was playing the deadliest game of chess he had ever played, and so far he was winning. His next challenge was even more daring, and the loser of the game would
be facing certain death, not just defeat. He pulled a large pencil and paper from his saddlebag and sat down to carefully write in large plain letters. Joshua rolled up the finished paper and stuck it down inside his shirt.