Ashes of Heaven (23 page)

Oh, sure and begora, Seamus realized he could have skedaddled west to Salt Lake City with Samantha long ago, headed north from there on a much, much safer route than that bloody Bozeman Road.

But there had been this job to do. And it was honorable work for a man more used to making his daily bread with the strength of his back than by the power of his wits. Scouting was something he could do and do well. On this dirty, winner-take-all frontier he could have done a lot worse to feed his family.

By the Virgin Mary! Hadn't he done well by Samantha and the boy? They wanted for nothing … except perhaps for his being there a wee bit more from time to time.

Did Samantha really think it would be better for him to be off chasing gold than off chasing the last of the hostiles? At least he had made himself a handsome purse now and then by stalking those warriors, while he never did find any of the gold that lured him west in '66, the same gold he was bound and determined to find when he brought her north from Texas in the fall of '75 just as this bloodbath of an Indian war was fixing to erupt.
†

He read through the advertisement once more as he sat there on the edge of their tiny rope-and-tick bed. Seamus wondered if Samantha understood that he couldn't leave this before the job was done. And he wondered if Sam understood it really wasn't a matter of army pay versus Rocky Mountain gold. This was something that ran as deep in him as a vein of gold in the high country. Something much, much deeper than a matter of making a living.

This was where the Irishman knew he belonged. Here, in this rugged country thrust up against the far purple mountains. And until this war came to an end, this land wasn't going to be safe for any woman, any child.

No matter if that woman were Samantha and that child were his son, Colin Teig Donegan, neither one was safe until this war was brought to a close. No matter if it were some Lakota woman or some Cheyenne child caught in some sleeping village when the army charged down on them.

For now no one was safe in this country the Irishman had come to claim as his home. And too much blood had been shed in his own front yard.

The time had come.

This war had to be brought to a close before Seamus Donegan and his family could get on with their lives.

*   *   *

Old Wool Woman could see how nervous the soldiers were as soon as the warriors mounted their ponies that morning and rode across the new snow to present themselves at the Bear Coat's log lodge.

The
Ohmeseheso
chiefs and Hump's Lakota formed a crescent in front of the door at least three riders deep.

From the window of the lodge where she and the other hostages were staying, Old Wool Woman recognized the fear on the faces of the two young soldiers standing at the Bear Coat's doorway. Other soldiers barked and snapped, ordering more of the
ve-ho-e
out of their warm places, into their buffalo-hide coats and the sub-zero temperatures, to hurriedly form a phalanx between the riders and the hut where the soldier chief lived.

“I should go outside and tell them,” Old Wool Woman said to her daughter, Fingers Woman. The two women stood together, shoulders butted, their noses pressed against the frosted windowpane.

“Tell them what?” Fingers Woman asked.

Old Wool Woman turned from the window and swept up her blanket. “Tell our chiefs that they have frightened the soldiers into lining up the way they do when they are ready for a fight.”

Then she dashed out the door, speeding across the frozen, trampled snow toward the scene.

“Two Moon!” Old Wool Woman called as she reached the rear of the horsemen, her voice all but buried beneath the growling of the soldier leaders.

“Do these
ve-ho-e
want to fight us this morning?” Old Wolf turned to ask her as she pushed her way between the ponies to reach the front row.

“I think they believe
you
want to fight,” she said, a little breathless from her sprint in the cold, dry air.

“We have come to tell the Bear Coat our farewells,” Crazy Head explained.

“I know,” she replied, gazing up at the old chief, then pointed at the soldiers arrayed between the horsemen and the log hut. “But these soldiers don't know why you have come here.”

“Tell them we want to see the Bear Coat,” Two Moon said to her.

“I cannot speak their tongue,” she confessed. “Cannot make them understand me—”

The door behind her suddenly dragged open across its timbered threshold. Some of the soldiers turned with a jerk, yanking up their rifles as White Bull appeared in the doorway, his buffalo robe clutched about his shoulders.

“Two Moon,” the holy man called.

“White Bull,” Two Moon gave his greeting. “Is the Bear Coat inside with you?”

“He must still be sleeping,” he admitted. “I have not seen him this morning. I slept by the Bear Coat's small fire-box last night.”

Just then a pair of soldiers pushed up through the others and stood shoulder-to-shoulder in front of White Bull, facing the holy man, barring his exit from the log lodge. Behind the pair a single soldier appeared, shouting over White Bull's head into the darkened interior.

“They do not want White Bull to walk free,” Two Moon announced gravely.

Sleeping Rabbit agreed, “I think the soldiers are afraid we have come to take White Bull back.”

“To steal him away and flee from this place,” White Thunder added.

“These soldiers are too nervous,” Two Moon declared to White Bull. “Perhaps you shouldn't stay behind with them, my friend. I think it is better if you come with us back to the village this morning. We will all return here together—”

“I gave the Bear Coat my word,” White Bull interrupted. “If he cannot trust my word, then there is no common ground for us to make peace together.”

At that moment the two soldiers retreated one pace and stopped as the soldier chief appeared beside White Bull. He gently nudged the holy man aside and stepped into the new day's light, speaking to his soldiers. A heartbeat later, the half-breed loped up, his big coat flapping, rubbing his gritty eyes.

After the Bear Coat grumbled at Big Leggings, the half-breed turned to Old Wool Woman and said, “What is happening?”

“The chiefs came to say goodbye to the Bear Coat.”

“Is that why they are here?” he asked. “On their ponies, with their rifles out?”

She turned to quickly look over that front row of chiefs. “They came here to this place on their ponies and with their weapons. They will ride back to our village on those ponies and with their weapons.”

“Why are they showing their weapons?” Big Leggings demanded, still rubbing one red eye. “That is not a good sign to the soldiers.”

“I think you should tell the soldier chief that the men of my people haven't surrendered to him yet. Those ponies still belong to the chiefs. And those are still their guns.”

“What they did made the soldiers scared—”

“Two Moon and the chiefs vowed they would return and surrender.”

Wagging his head in consternation as he stepped up beside the Bear Coat, the half-breed said, “The rifles still scare the soldiers.”

“I think some of these soldiers would get scared if a magpie shadow crossed over them,” she observed wryly. “Tell the Bear Coat these chiefs mean no harm. Say that they have come to offer their farewell before returning to our village.”

“They will bring the village here?”

For a moment she pursed her lips, and finally said, “Big Leggings, you were there when these men stood against the others, stood against the Elkhorn Scrapers and the Crazy Dogs, and promised they would seek peace with the Bear Coat. These are honorable men. I am glad they do not understand your thoughtless, wounding words.”

She watched his eyes flick up and Old Wool Woman knew he was looking to see if Hump had been listening to their talk in Lakota.

“I made a mistake by questioning their promise,” he said.

Immediately the half-breed turned to talk with the soldier chief in the
ve-ho-e
tongue. Then he turned back to Old Wool Woman. “The Bear Coat and his men understand. He says he knows the word of your chiefs is straight and true, that they will return here with their ponies and weapons, with the rest of the village. He knows they will keep their word to surrender to him even though some of Sitting Bull's Lakota promised they would surrender last autumn, then ran away.”

“We are
Ohmeseheso,
” Two Moon replied after Old Wool Woman translated. “I do not know about those Lakota the Bear Coat chased last autumn. Perhaps they had very good reason to run away from his soldiers. I am reminded that it takes two sides to make a peace, Big Leggings. Not just those who surrender to stop the killing.”

He waited for the double translation, then Two Moon continued, “Here we are, all ready to go back to our village. The Bear Coat asked for one man from our party to stay with him, and White Bull has agreed to stay.”

When he heard the translation, the soldier chief smiled and said, “I am happy White Bull will stay at my fort. Last night I told him, ‘Come inside my home and rest until the others return with the rest of your people.'”

Two Moon dismounted and passed his rifle off to another warrior before he stepped up to the soldier chief and the holy man. “I want to go inside this place where you will keep White Bull. I want to go inside to tell him my goodbye.”

The soldiers before the doorway parted as the Bear Coat turned and went inside. Behind him went two more soldiers, the half-breed, then White Bull and Two Moon. Old Wool Woman was the last to step into the shadows of the log lodge.

When he had turned and leaned back against the big wooden box covered with papers, the soldier chief said, “I will do no harm to this man you are leaving with me. I want to enlist him now as a scout for my soldiers.”

Two Moon repeated, “A scout for you?”

“I have learned there are some Indians who will not go in to their agency,” the Bear Coat explained. “They are Indians who will not come in to surrender to me. I must go find them. They must go to their agency or I will have to fight them.”

Nodding, Two Moon said, “We know there are bands of warriors who will not agree to come in.”

“I need a man like White Bull to lead me to these warrior bands,” the soldier chief explained.

“You want me to be your scout to find these Indians?” White Bull asked.

“I will pay you to be my scout, White Bull. You will have a horse and a rifle. I will feed you and give you a soldier uniform to wear since you will be leading my army.”

For a moment the holy man considered it, then said, “Once I was a warrior all the time. Now I am a priest of my people. But if you want me to be a scout for you, I will scout for the Bear Coat.”

When the translation had been made, the soldier chief smiled and pounded his hand on White Bull's shoulder. “This is good news! Welcome, White Bull!”

Still, Two Moon appeared grave. “You must remember that I do not wish to have White Bull killed or hanged while he stays with you. He should die like a warrior in battle. He is a good man and is my friend. I would rather see him shot than hanged, so his soul can be free in death.”

“I would not kill my new scout, White Bull,” the soldier chief exclaimed in dismay at the translation. “He is my friend and is going to help me find the Indians who do not understand that the fighting must end.”

“This will be good I think, Bear Coat,” Two Moon said. “When we return, we will march our village right through the middle of your soldier post and camp on the bottom-ground above it.”

“My soldiers will help you all that we can,” the Bear Coat promised. “I know the people in your village must be very hungry.

“It has been a hard, hard winter for the children and the old ones.”

The Bear Coat continued, “If you and the other chiefs will return to your tents for awhile, I will have my soldiers bring you food to live on while you ride back to your village. And a little food to take back to your people. This is my gift to show you that I mean to help your people. That I do not want to punish them anymore.”

Chapter 19

Cannanpopa Wi
1877

Lame Deer knew he would have to ration this last of his agency tobacco. What little remained would have to last him until they had a chance to trade, or until he found some stuffed in the pockets of a white wagon driver or one of those yellow-rock diggers they might happen to come across.

More than at any other time, he always liked smoking here as the fire burned low and the camp fell quiet. Everyone but him was asleep now.

It hadn't been all that long since half-a-hundred lodges of his
Mnikowoju
had followed Crazy Horse away from the great hunting camp of Lakota and Shahiyela in the Greasy Grass country. South by east, the great village had been traveling toward the Powder River country, long a favorite of Crazy Horse. Every day meant looking for game, along with sending out the young men to search for sign of the soldiers everyone knew were roaming. With so many people, the big village made short, daily marches, stopping early to camp before the winter sun fell.

Eventually the Lakota camps began to talk of going their own way as well. The hunters had to range farther every day to find enough game for all the hungry bellies. And to find enough buffalo. For the first time in the memory of any of the old men, there wasn't enough buffalo meat to dry, not enough hides to make all the shelters and sleeping robes they required.

More and more each day, Crazy Horse had become like a man confused, truly the Oglallas' strange one. Increasingly he spent his time away from the camps, going alone to the hills. Where, no one knew. To do what, Lame Deer could only guess. The man's leadership was needed now more than ever. But Crazy Horse was rarely seen in camp.