A Man Called Sunday (10 page)

Old ashes near the edge of the stream served as evidence that others before them had picked this place to camp. The lack of available firewood was of major concern, but Luke assured them that a small fire, enough to boil a quick pot of coffee, could be built with sagebrush roots and branches. “I've still got plenty of deer jerky to keep you from starvin' till suppertime. I figure we can make it to a little creek about halfway between here and the Cheyenne River. There's firewood there and grass for the horses, if it ain't snowed under by the time we get there.”

While David went about the business of unhitching his team, Luke guided his horse under the solitary cottonwood. Standing on his saddle, he was just tall enough to reach the lower limbs of the tree. With his hatchet, he chopped off as many of the branches as he could manage. Watching him, Mary Beth realized that this was the reason the tree was pruned so high up the trunk. Others before him had done the same. She assumed he was after wood for the fire and wondered if the green branches would burn well enough to serve their purpose. She learned that he had other intentions, however, when he took his knife and began skinning the bark from the branches, after which, he fed the shavings to his horse.

They rested there for an hour before hitching up and starting out again. They had driven for a couple of hours when the wind picked up and heavier, dark clouds began to roll in from the northwest, signaling an end to the fair weather. Mary Beth climbed back into the wagon and spread a blanket over her and David's knees. “If this keeps up, I'm going to have to get our heavy coats out again,” she said as she pressed close to her husband.

“He doesn't seem to mind it,” David said, nodding toward the lone figure sitting relaxed in the saddle some fifty or sixty yards ahead.

Contrary to their thoughts, Luke was perturbed by the sudden blast of wintry air blowing out of the mountains, but not because it was cold. He was as eager to complete this journey as the couple he was leading, and he was disappointed to see any weather that might lengthen it.

Another hour passed before the first flakes began to fall, so he was confident that they would reach the creek he had planned on with no trouble. By the time he caught sight of the little cluster of trees along the bank of the creek, the snow had begun to accumulate upon the prairie. So it was with a welcome sigh that David wheeled his wagon between the trees to park it as close to cover as he could manage. Mary Beth didn't wait for the men to build a fire, but started gathering dead limbs while David and Luke took care of the horses. She was cold and hungry, so she gathered enough for a large fire. Then a thought entered her mind as she was about to light it. Turning to Luke, who was carrying his saddle back to throw under the wagon, she asked, “Is this too big? Should we be worried about our fire being spotted by Indians?”

Amused by her question, he showed no sign of it, however, when he answered, “No, ma'am. Make it as big as you want. I wouldn't expect to find any Injuns in this part of the country, except maybe a Crow huntin' party, and they'd just wanna get warm. We don't have to worry about runnin' across any hostiles till we get beyond the Cheyenne River and the Belle Fourche.”

“What's the name of this creek?” David asked.

“I don't know if it's got a name,” Luke replied. “At least I ain't ever heard one. I expect the Crows call it somethin'.”

“We'll name it, then,” David said, cheered by the news that he had worried about hostile Indians needlessly. “We'll call it Freeman's Creek. Whaddaya think, Mary Beth?” He chuckled playfully.

When Mary Beth replied with only a look of mock impatience for her husband, Luke said, “As good a name as any, I reckon.” He started to withdraw then to set up his own camp, but was stopped by Mary Beth.

“There's really no need for you to go off by yourself,” she said. “You might as well eat with us. For goodness' sake, we're going to be traveling for quite a long time and I can cook for all of us.” She said it because it was the thing to do, although she was still uncomfortable in his presence. Then she chided herself and admitted to being uncomfortable when he was not around as well, and she had to wonder what he might be up to.

As stoic as ever, Luke nodded thoughtfully before replying, “I reckon it makes more sense at that, instead of makin' two fires and two camps every day. If you're offerin' to do the cookin', then I reckon I can volunteer to provide the meat, so we don't cook up all the salt pork you've got. Is that all right with you folks?”

“That's a fair arrangement,” David said. So the partnership was struck, although David still wore his pistol belt and Mary Beth kept her late father's revolver close to her, even while cooking the supper. The only one not wearing a weapon while they were camped was the one the other two sought to defend themselves against. It did not go unnoticed by Luke, but it failed to concern him. In fact, he couldn't say that he really blamed them.

After a supper of boiled beans, bacon, and coffee, Mary Beth was relieved to hear Luke turn down David's suggestion that he should sleep under the wagon to give him some protection from the snow, which had shown no sign of stopping. “'Preciate it,” Luke said, “but I think it'd be a good idea if I slept over on the other side of the creek where I can spot anythin' movin' on the prairie behind us. I can make a half shelter with my buffalo robe to keep the snow off.” He figured that was as good a reason as any, although it could have occurred to David to point out that something might come upon them from the other direction. His real reason was having no desire to sleep under the young couple. During supper, David had remarked that he and Mary Beth had only been married for less than two years. Luke didn't want to hear them struggling over his head all night, in case the bloom had not faded in their lovemaking yet. When there was no comment from either of them questioning his reasoning, he finished his coffee and said good night.

Thank you,
Mary Beth thought as she watched him depart, for she unknowingly shared similar feelings. David was still inclined to seek intimacy at what she considered inappropriate times, and she did not care to share them with their sinister guide. She never denied her husband's advances, even though her mood might not match his. David was not a confident man, having never really succeeded in any important endeavor, and she was careful not to discourage his ardor, lest he feel rejected. Her mind returned to the circumstances of their marriage. The only daughter, raised in a household with four brothers, she was eager to accept the first decent opportunity to escape the madhouse of her family. Being the eldest, she was more like a second mother to her brothers, and burdened with the responsibility of cooking, washing clothes, and cleaning up after the rowdy boys.

David's family owned the farm next to her father's in Minnesota. The youngest of the Freeman boys, David soon came to call on Mary Beth. She was a little ashamed to admit it, but when he proposed to her, she said yes, primarily to escape her family. The fact that David had dreams of making it on his own in the free country of the West, as his older brother had done, suited her even better. So they bade farewell to family and friends and set out for a plot of land near Cheyenne, Wyoming Territory, a piece of land that David had bought sight unseen. The land turned out to be one hundred and twenty-five acres of arid soil, incapable of sustaining crops. Mary Beth did not complain during the long, hard months they worked to bring life to a land that refused to support it. She worked just as hard to build her marriage and strengthen a love for her husband that she had to admit was not fully there in their beginning. When they received word from David's brother inviting them to join him in Montana, they were both ready to go. Now it appeared that, after some discouraging setbacks, they had found a way to continue their quest—even if it was with a half-civilized guide. She could not consider herself a brave woman, but she was determined as hell at this point.

* * *

David and Mary Beth were awakened the next morning by the sound of distant gunfire from the north. Alarmed, they scrambled out of the wagon to discover Luke standing on the opposite bank, his ear to the wind, listening. Seeing that the couple was awake, he crossed over to their side, carrying an armload of dead limbs for the fire.

“Whaddaya think it is?” David asked. “You think we're in trouble?”

“I don't think so,” Luke replied calmly. “Sounds to me like somebody's run up on some buffalo, most likely a Crow huntin' party. I was just fixin' to go take a look. I was waitin' for you folks to wake up—didn't want you to think I'd run off and left you. I'll get a fire started.” About a four-inch blanket of snow had fallen during the night, ending an hour or so before sunup. Luke raked it away to uncover the charred remains of their fire from the night before. In short order he had a healthy blaze glowing, and when he was sure of its promise, he got to his feet. “I won't be gone long,” he said as he started toward his horse.

“How long should we wait here?” David asked.

“You go ahead and fix your breakfast and get ready to break camp. If I ain't back by then, start out without me.” Before David could form words to voice the alarm at once reflected in his eyes, Luke turned and pointed toward the northern skyline. “See that line of hills with what looks like a chimney at one end of it? You just start your horses on that line, and I'll meet you before you get there.”

“Don't you want to wait and get some coffee before you go?” Mary Beth asked.

“No, ma'am,” Luke replied. “You folks ought not take too much time gettin' started. I wanna make camp tonight at the Cheyenne River. That's about twenty miles from here, and this snow ain't gonna make it any easier.”

“What if you aren't there by the time we reach that rock?” David asked.

“I'll be there,” Luke assured him. “That rock's the best part of ten miles away.” He stepped up in the saddle and guided the paint along the north bank of the creek.

Mary Beth moved up to stand beside her husband, and they both watched him until he faded into the early morning mist hovering over the creek. There was no need to express the feeling of emptiness that descended upon them at that moment. Their wagon, a pinpoint in a vast ocean of stark white prairie that extended on all sides to a distant horizon, left them with the realism that without their guide, they were truly lost. “You don't suppose—” Mary Beth started.

“He'll be back,” David interrupted her. “He said he'll be back, so don't start worrying your mind about it.” Another thought occurred to him then. “He ain't gonna leave before he gets his money, so let's just get some coffee boiling and get ready to go.”

Breakfast was a hurried affair on this morning, with no lingering over coffee afterward. Mary Beth was washing her dishes and the frying pan before David had a chance to finish his bacon. Gone for the moment were her feelings of suspicion and discomfort she had harbored for the tall scout whenever he was around. They were replaced by a need for reassurance from his quiet confidence and indifferent manner.

* * *

After a ride of approximately five miles, Luke approached a low ridge that appeared to be one side of a wide, grassy draw. The sound of random gunfire from the other side of the ridge, and the rumble of many hooves, told him that what he had suspected was probably true, that someone was killing buffalo. To make sure, however, and to determine if they were friend or foe, he left his horse when almost to the top of the ridge and climbed the rest of the way on foot.

Lying on his belly at the top of the ridge, he watched for only a minute or two before uttering, “Black Feather.” He had run up on the Crow scouts he had been sent to find several days before, led by his friend Black Feather. He watched for a few minutes as the small herd of perhaps one hundred buffalo swept through the draw with the Crow hunters darting in and out of the mass of bodies to kill what they needed, their nimble ponies quick to avoid the dangerous horns. With no further need for caution, Luke got to his feet and went back to get his horse.

Riding diagonally down the side of the ridge, he urged the paint to join the hunt. Having done it many times before, the fearless horse charged into the mob of thundering hooves. So intense was the chase that the Crow hunters were not aware of the addition to their hunt until the Henry rifle spoke and a young cow collapsed with a .44 slug placed neatly behind her left front leg to take a tumble in the snow-covered grass. Surprised, for there had been no rider to his left moments before, Black Feather jerked his head around to see Luke bearing down on another cow. “Hi-yi!” he cried out excitedly. “Dead Man!”

Luke raised his rifle overhead in greeting to his friend, then abruptly reined the paint back, veering away from the stampeding herd. The one buffalo cow was enough to supply the Freemans and himself for a good while, so there was no sense in killing more. The Crow hunters, most of whom were still unaware that he had joined them, continued their chase for a short while longer before breaking off to return to butcher the carcasses left behind. Upon seeing Luke, they quickly gathered around him.

“Have you come to join us?” Black Feather asked.

“No,” Luke answered in the Crow tongue. “I didn't expect to find you here. I thought you were going to meet General Crook.”

“We go to meet him at the Powder River near Dry Fork, where the army fort used to be,” Little Bear said.

“The soldiers left Fort Fetterman one sleep ago,” Luke said. “Maybe two more sleeps they'll reach Fort Reno and think you'll be there.”

Black Feather shrugged indifferently. “We had big hunt, killed plenty meat for our village. That was important before we left to fight Sioux.” He and the others went on to explain that they were on their way to meet General Crook when they happened upon a second herd of buffalo. They were fortunate to be able to take advantage of this smaller herd to make meat for their battle with the Sioux.