Lakota Surrender (39 page)

Tahiska nodded. “Perhaps. But the white artist was just at the Pawnee camp. Maybe they feel they are safe. There,” he said, pointing to a hill directly within the path of the two white men. “That is the place where we will intercept the murderers. We will make our stand there.”

“No!” Major Bogard said, then,
“Hiya,”
he said in their own language. “I know you are justified in seeking revenge, but I would ask you again to let the two white men face their own justice. They have committed crimes that my people cannot ignore.”

Tahiska inspected this soldier, his father-in-law, in minute detail; he narrowed his eyes before he motioned, “You will have an equal voice in our council. It is the council that will decide. Come, we must prepare ourselves to fight.”

The rest of the day saw the Indians painting themselves, dancing, praying, working over strategies. By dusk their plans were set. Major Bogard joined in the midnight raid on the enemies’ camp, capturing their horses, but other than a few arrows aimed only to frighten, they left the two
washechu
alone.

Before the first ray of morning light flickered in the sky the next morning, the Indians and the one officer shot an alarming number of arrows and gunfire into the camp, none intended to kill. The sky was not even red with the first rays of morning light when the two white murderers surrendered.

The major strode forward with Tahiska by his side, while Wahtapah and Neeheeowee kept guard from hidden vantage points.

The two white men stood before them, hands outstretched, weapons flung on the ground.

“Robert McKlinsley, Charles McGreggor,” the major commanded, being the first to speak. “As an official representative of the United States Army, I arrest you both for desertion of post and for the unlawful murders of two Sioux Indians. You will be taken back to Fort Leavenworth to await trail.” McKlinsley smirked. He glared first at Tahiska, then swung his arms out in front of him. “I thinks ye be a parleyin’ too long with the Injuns here, Major Bogard,” he grated. “We dinna kill the Injuns. We was a scoutin’ ahead of the column. But jist suppose we did kill them Injuns. Thar’s no law agains’ defendin’ ye own self. But by the bull barley, ye ain’t gonna turn us over to these Injuns. I swear it. Wasna that true, Charlie?”

Charlie nodded. The major growled.

“I don’t believe you, McKlinsley. And it’s lucky for you that I’ll take no part in your sentencing. My only duty is to take you back to the fort where you will await your fate. You owe your lives right now to the sense of fair play amongst these Indians. They’re the ones who have decided to let you face our own system of justice.”

“Now did ye iver?” McKlinsley shook his head and laughed, shifting his weight. “Well, ye must think this man’s a fool if ye thinks I’ll iver let ye take me back to the fort.” Suddenly he produced a knife, flinging it at the major with such an accuracy that the officer had no time for evasion.

But Tahiska had been alerted with the first indication of the enemy’s motion. In fact, the Indian had counted on just such an action. Tahiska hurled himself in front of the major, throwing the officer to the ground and out of the way so quickly, even the two assailants were astounded.

The Indian, however, had not compensated for his own safety and as the knife struck its target with a dull thud, Tahiska fell.

One less Injun to kill.

It was the last thought that McKlinsley had. Before either he or Charlie could fire a shot, Tahiska’s two friends burst out of their cover, making short work of the battle. McKlinsley lay dead within seconds from a precisely aimed arrow while Charlie fled, Neeheeowee following in close pursuit.

Only minutes later, a scream split the air. And in its aftermath, the wind rustling through the trees gave rise to the only sound in the air.

Neeheeowee stepped into the clearing, a dirty blond scalp in his hand.

Tahiska lay on the ground, unmoving, with a wound to his head. The major sat beside him, using his shirt to soak up the blood.

Wahtapah knelt beside his friend, and picking up Tahiska’s hand in his own, felt for a pulse. Faint, but still there.

“Quickly,” Wahtapah signed at the major. “He still lives. Go find water. Hurry. If you find a stream, bring back the mud.”

The major nodded, grabbing a pot from the camp, and shot away toward the stream.

Neeheeowee joined his friend, kneeling down beside Tahiska. He examined the wound. It was to the side of the head, but the bleeding was profuse, making it impossible to tell if the injury were fatal or only superficial.

Tahiska stirred. Wahtapah held him still. “Do not leave us in death, brother,” he voiced softly in Lakota. “I fear that if you leave us now, your wife will never forgive you or her father.”

The major returned with water and, dipping his shirt into the pot, began to cleanse the wound.

“Does he still live?” the major asked in sign.

Wahtapah nodded.

Neeheeowee watched for a while, then rising, he went to stand over the body of McKlinsley, finally picking up the dead body and carrying it into the woods where it would feed the wolves.

“It’s only superficial, I believe,” the major said, then signed his meaning to Wahtapah. “He will recover.”

Wahtapah merely stared at the white soldier, finally giving a short nod in acknowledgment.

“He saved my life,” the major continued to speak in sign. “How can I ever return such a favor?”

Had Wahtapah not been sick with worry, he might have grinned. He glanced at his friend, then at the major, and in sign he said, “If he lives, there will be a way, I promise you.”

The major stared hard at the warrior, the young man also returning the intense scrutiny. Nothing more was said, nothing more signed.

Both turned their gaze to their friend, both hoping, both praying.

“Have you had any sign to indicate your condition?”

Kristina shook her head, keeping her gaze downcast. “I’m not pregnant.”

“That’s good. I’m relieved to hear it.”

Kristina’s eyes filled with tears. “To tell you the truth, I was praying for a baby, just in case he never returns.”

“I see.” Julia’s glance darted around the trading center where both girls were assigned duty, but except for the women themselves, the post was empty. “I still find it hard to believe that he won’t return for you, Kristina. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He might have been upset, but he would never leave. I don’t believe he divorced you. Are you sure you understood it right?”

“No. But he spoke of divorce. He said that if I could not accept the way he was, it would be better if we parted. I don’t want to believe it, but what choice do I have?” Kristina raised her head. She stared directly into Julia’s eyes. “That’s why I wish I were with child. At least then there would be something of him remaining with me. This way I have nothing.”

Julia wondered again at what had happened to the Indians. She was willing to swear that Tahiska would not willingly leave Kristina. Never had she seen such looks of love. The brave had openly admired his wife with such craving in his expression that a few times even Julia could have swooned. Could something Kristina had said in a moment of anger really have been enough to drive him away for good? Somehow she didn’t think so.

Silently, she strode to the door of the trading center and, deciding they would both benefit from only a half day of work, she closed the door and bolted it from any further traffic. Returning to the counter, she found Kristina’s composure completely shaken.

“Tell me again. Why did the Indians really come to our post?”

“I don’t know the full story, only what I gathered from listening to Tahiska that day when they all stood in front of the cavalry.” Kristina’s voice was little more than a sob. “A couple of soldiers killed Tahiska’s father and the three Indians were here seeking revenge. This was their actual business here at the fort, the real reason they couldn’t leave until the trade wagon returned. They were looking for the two murderers.”

“And where are they now?”

“They’re tracking down the two soldiers. The men deserted shortly after being confronted with the crime.”

“And your father is with them?”

Kristina nodded.

Julia thought a moment. “Perhaps you and I should try to determine just what divorce is to the Indian. Neither one of us really knows. Didn’t you at one time try to divorce him, only he refused to believe it because you hadn’t ‘thrown him away’? What does that mean? I think you may be worried for nothing. Do you honestly believe the Indians would leave without word to us? I don’t think so. Besides, I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I don’t believe your husband would ever desert you. Only in death…”

Kristina gasped. “Don’t even speak of death!” She laid her hand on her friend’s. “If they are tracking down these soldiers, their lives are in danger already.” Kristina suddenly put her hand to her head and winced.

“Kristina, are you ill?”

“My head—”

“Nerves,” Julia said. “Don’t worry I’m certain the Indians are fine, and I believe you are wrong about Tahiska. He will return to you.”

“No, I…” Kristina looked straight ahead, staring into empty space. “He will return if he is able. But, Julia, my head suddenly hurts in the most strange manner.”

Julia laid her hand over her friend’s head.

“Nerves,” she repeated. “And don’t worry. He will return.”

Kristina tried to smile, but the attempt only mimicked her regular grin. “I feel something is terribly wrong.”

She shivered then, and glancing quickly at her friend, moved from behind the store’s counter. “Come ride with me, will you, Julia? I feel the need to see the prairie.”

Julia smiled and nodded agreement, following her friend to the door. Odd. For a moment there, Kristina had looked haunted, as though she possessed some secret knowledge. Julia shrugged and scolded herself; overactive imagination on her part, surely, except that for a moment…

“Kristina!”

Wahtapah glanced at the major. The major met Wahtapah’s gaze, but neither man spoke. Both turned their attention back to the feverish man who, even after a few days, had yet to regain consciousness. The major, who at first was convinced that the wound was superficial, now worried. He tried to figure out how to move Tahiska into the fort for medical aid.

“Kristina!
Hiya!”

Even Neeheeowee, who busied himself with camp chores, knelt down beside his friend. He stared first at the major, then at Wahtapah.

“Should I go get his wife?” he asked in sign, forgetting that the major didn’t, after all, know.

“Wife?”

Both Indians peered at the major.

“Wife!” Major Bogard signed again. “The young man is married?”

Neither Wahtapah nor Neeheeowee replied, both choosing simply to stare at the major.

At length, Neeheeowee asked again, “Shall I go bring Kristina here?” This time he spoke in his own Cheyenne dialect.

“What about my daughter, Kristina?”

“He calls for her,” Wahtapah answered in sign. “We wonder if we should go and retrieve her.”

“But what has this to do with
wife?”

Silence. The wind rushing through the trees and prairie grass grew disproportionately loud.

No one spoke, and the major wondered at it momentarily. Something clicked. All at once, it made sense: The Indian and Kristina riding on the plains, the two of them dancing, the Indian escorting her home, the gifts.

Major Wendall Bogard couldn’t stand it. Why hadn’t he seen this before? Why hadn’t Kristina told him?

He leapt to his feet, glaring first at one Indian, then at the other. His face turned red with emotion, but the major said nothing. He glared at them, all three of them. A fool! Had they all played him for a fool?

He’d never felt more angry in his life, and he glowered at the unconscious man who lay at his feet—a man who had willingly offered his own life for that of his…father-in-law.

The major couldn’t consider such things. Betrayal, deceit. Had they all, including his own daughter, deceived him?

Still he said nothing. And though he wanted to rage at the man who lay unconscious, perhaps even strangle him, the major chose to leave, sprinting from the camp like one demented. He saddled his horse, barely able to contain his anger, and raced away, wondering for the first time if his wife weren’t perhaps right. Kristina didn’t belong here.

Neeheeowee glanced first at Wahtapah and then at Tahiska. He hoped his friend would forgive him his slip of tongue.

Finally, Neeheeowee shrugged, then glancing at Tahiska decided it was time that his friend recovered. Though descended from a long line of medicine men, Neeheeowee had believed that the powers that ran through his family had decided to skip him this generation. Though absent a vision, Neeheeowee had spent these last few days praying, meditating, asking his god to give him the power to heal.

And he wondered if his prayers hadn’t, after all, been answered. He’d never felt this way before, this knowing that he could save his friend. As he lay his hand over Tahiska’s head wound, chanting and praying, sprinkling grasses and herbs onto the wound, he felt the power grow within him.