Read Return to Massacre Mesa - Edge Series 5 Online
Authors: George G. Gilman
‘Does he know – ‘
Both White Eagle and Rose held up a hand to silence her and then Wild Pony and Big Bear were asked a question by the senior chief. Edge glanced at Rose and when he saw a fleeting smile of satisfaction touch the lips of the squaw he guessed White Eagle was being advised to co-operate with the visitors. When the other two Comanche were through, he uttered a noncommittal grunt but a moment later offered a curt nod of assent.
Rose said: ‘You are invited to sit down here at each side of me.’
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They did this and White Eagle began immediately to address Rose: spoke for even longer than she had in relating the circumstances that had brought her, Lucy Russell and Edge to the encampment. Edge spent more time watching the listener than the speaker and he thought he recognised the point at which Rose figured she had heard enough of what she came here for. When the old chief began to indulge in what old men of all races are inclined to do when they have the time, an audience, an opportunity and a plentiful supply of tobacco, and sometimes liquor, to fuel their ramblings.
But eventually the largely one-sided exchange faltered to an end and the squaw led by tacit example: got to her feet and moved out of the wickiup. To where the night air layered with wood smoke from the dozen or so cooking fires seemed fresh compared with that within the lodge permeated by the rancid smelling tobacco in the pipes on which the three chiefs incessantly sucked.
Crooked Eye was waiting impatiently close by and led them eagerly to a guest lodge set a little apart from the main cluster of dwellings, beside which a fire was already well alight. Nearby the gear taken off their horses had been stacked, including the Winchester from out of Edge’s saddle boot. The young man enthusiastically explained what had been arranged for their night’s comfort and promised that hot food would shortly be brought to them.
Hunkered down close to the fire in the cooling air of the new night after Crooked Eye had left, the trio became the subjects of furtive interest by a number of Comanche. Who took it in turns to draw near, stay briefly without making a sound then retreat just as silently into the shadowy darkness among the wickiups. Edge rolled and lit cigarette and on a trickle of expelled smoke said to the squaw:
‘It seemed to me the old timer was doing a little reminiscing toward the end of the talk back there?’
Rose Bigheart smiled wistfully. ‘White Eagle claims that he does not have many pleasures left to him and I expect that is true. And although he is the senior chief when Red Wolf is away from the village, most of the people here have wearied of hearing him 115
tell the same stories over and over again.’
Lucy could curb her impatience no longer: ‘But did he tell you where we should go to find – ‘
‘All in good time, lady,’ Edge broke in and asked of the still ruefully smiling squaw: ‘It seemed to me he stirred up some memories of the old times that struck a chord with you, uh?’
Rose seemed only to half hear what he said as she nodded absently, her mind still filled with events that happened in the era White Eagle had spoken of: before she left the Comanche nation to live among whites. ‘It has been many years since I have heard talk of such times. Before I became the kind of Comanche the White Eyes required me to be.’
Three young squaws brought food for the visitors, with Crooked Eye acting as an immaturely officious supervisor. It was a stew of mostly unidentifiable vegetables with a few stringy pieces of some kind of meat thrown in: but it was hot and filling and while they all ate hungrily it was clear that Lucy Russell had to struggle to control her eagerness.
Then as soon as three spoons had rattled down into the empty bowls, the young buck hurried up from out of the darkness and like an overly attentive waiter at some big city restaurant asked if the guests had eaten enough. Rose Bigheart spoke sharply to him in their own language and the youngster wore a crestfallen scowl as he moved sullenly off with the crockery and spoons. The squaw’s expression remained stern as she peered after the boy until he went from sight. Then she explained.
‘Crooked Eye was at school in a town to the north for a while. It was where he was handed down the clothes he still wears. He liked much of what he saw and wants to know more of the White Eyes ways he never had the chance to learn before he was brought back to the Comanche life.’ She altered her expression into one of goodnatured understanding. ‘I told him it is still too early for him: that if he tries to follow the ways of the White Eyes at his age he will do nothing much better than bring them food and take away their dirty dishes after they are through eating. I explained to him 116
how I am allowed to do little more than clean the houses of – ‘
‘Please, Rose, what did White Eagle say?’ There was prickly irritation in Lucy’s expanding impatience.
Rose peered at her with tacit scorn in her dark eyes and Lucy was perturbed by this unfamiliar expression directed at her by someone she considered a friend. She showed regret and then suddenly was afraid as she peered around, recalling that she was in a hostile environment. But Rose had regrets of her own and said in a placating tone:
‘I am sorry, Miss Lucy. It is natural you should want to know what I was told after we have ridden so far to hear it. I can never return to the Comanche way and it is foolish for me to dwell on a past that is gone forever. Or to look for a future that will be a long time coming - if it ever does.’
Edge said: ‘I guess you come here to the village every now and then? It looks pretty permanent to me and you knew exactly where you were headed?’
She nodded. ‘I come here sometimes but not often. To spend time with those of my people who do not think too badly of me for doing what I did and being a white man’s squaw all those years ago. Mostly it is the young braves of Chief Red Wolf – and Red Wolf himself, too – who do not welcome me. They are worried that some of the young Comanche maidens may follow my example.’
Lucy made to say something, but Edge spoke first.
‘You aren’t here on a social visit tonight.’
She sighed. ‘No. As Miss Lucy knows – and I suppose you do too - there is a band of renegade braves in this part of the country.’
‘Led by Mountain Lion,’ Lucy said. ‘The soldiers from Fort Chance have been hunting them for a long time.’
Edge said: ‘The bunch that held up the stage: wounded Devlin and killed some others.’
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‘One of the many crimes committed by Mountain Lion and those hot-heads who follow him,’ Rose confirmed. ‘But, to answer your question, Miss Lucy: White Eagle warned me that Mountain Lion’s braves have been seen in the hills near this village.’
She shook her head as she went on: ‘The old chiefs – and even Red Wolf – do not approve of the violent path Mountain Lion has chosen to follow. But like all Comanche in this area they will not stand in his way. And should he and his braves come to the village and ask about us, no lies will be told to them.’
Lucy gasped.
Rose held up a hand and qualified: ‘The old chiefs gave us their blessing to reach the place we seek and hope that we will find what we are looking for. But we will be offered no other help to do this except for the hospitality we have been given here and now.’ She got wearily to her feet, stooped to pick up her blanket roll and moved toward the lodge entrance.
The white woman was confused and afraid as she blurted shrilly: ‘Rose, surely that can’t be all of it?’
‘Miss Lucy?’
‘I had hoped . . .‘ She shrugged her narrow shoulders, not knowing precisely what she had hoped for.
Edge told her: ‘Lady, this is Comanche country. And around here there’s no Indian trouble outside of one small band of renegades. We don’t want to start some kind of uprising so it’s best to ask permission before we go sneaking around on land the Comanche consider is theirs.’
‘But where do we start?’ She motioned with her hands to encompass the surrounding countryside, moonlit and moon shadowed at the quiet start of the night.’
‘It’s going to be like looking for a very small needle in a very big haystack the way things are, lady,’ Edge allowed. ‘But it would be a whole lot harder for us if all the time we had to keep an eye out for hostile Comanche who figured we were someplace we didn’t have any right to be.’
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She pouted and this expression, for some reason he did not understand, added to the attractiveness of her pale face in the diminishing firelight as she complained: ‘But I expected them to add something more to that map Rose carries in her head?’
The squaw had already gone into the lodge and Edge signalled for the dejected white woman to do likewise. She remained sullenly irritable as she gathered up her bedding, not at all placated by what he had told her: ‘What about you? Where will you sleep?’
‘I’ll bed down out here.’ He began to unfurl his blankets. ‘Like you’ve seen, the Comanche are a whole lot different from you and me in a whole lot of ways, Miss Russell. But in some things it’s the same with them as it is with us.’
‘Uh?’
‘Like money, for instance: if they knew where those government dollars were hidden, they’d have made use of what they knew without waiting for any Johnny-comelately whites to show up and uncover the loot.’
She said something under her breath that was maybe a curse then admitted: ‘I never thought of that!’ ‘And like men and women sharing the same sleeping quarters unless they’re married, lady – it ain’t supposed to happen.’
She was embarrassed then sighed and answered flatly: ‘Well, I guess you could say that tonight I’ve had my first lesson in getting to be familiar with the Comanche way of life.’ Rose said resolutely from within the wickiup: ‘Just be sure your familiarity does not breed contempt, Miss Lucy.’
Edge eyed the slender figured white woman as she stepped into the lodge and murmured wryly: ‘But keep it in mind that in another way, too much familiarity doesn’t have to be only to breed babies.’
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CHAPTER • 11
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AS HAD happened in his room at the Wild Dog Hotel in Lakewood three nights
ago, Edge came suddenly awake knowing that somebody was close by. And at the moment of waking he recalled precisely where he was and why he was there. He discounted as the reason he awakened prematurely the two women who were asleep in the wickiup some twenty feet away from where he lay under blankets near the heap of glowing fire embers: likewise the Comanche old men, squaws and children for whom the village was home. Somebody was much closer to him than all these. As usual when he slept and had no reason to suspect nearby danger, he had placed his Stetson over his face: also in surroundings he considered safe he did not sleep with a rifle or revolver at his side beneath the blankets. So now as he snapped open his eyes he saw nothing but the darkness inside the hat and was disconcertingly aware he had just the razor in the neck pouch to defend himself with as he listened to someone breathing rapidly: to his right, maybe six feet off.
‘Mr Edge, I think it is best that you leave this place.’ The voice was familiar, pitched at the level of a conspiratorial whisper. It was Crooked Eye, who added anxiously: ‘I know you are awake. Although I am not yet a full grown brave, I have learned much of how to – ‘ He broke off when Edge drew a hand out from beneath the blanket to raise the hat off his face. Then the young buck continued with the same earnest urgency: ‘ – sometimes read the signs of what a man intends to do before he does it.’
Edge folded his back up from the blanket and saw the boy looked as apprehensive as he sounded. He sat cross-legged, back straight, his palms and fingers splayed flat on the ground at his sides.
‘Why do we have to leave here, kid?’
‘I am sent by Chief Wild Pony, who is second only to White Eagle when Red Wolf is not in the village. One of Red Wolf’s hunting party has just returned to warn us that 120
Mountain Lion and his band have been seen not far off. It is thought for sure that they will come to the village very soon.’
‘Big trouble, uh?’ Edge was now aware of somebody else close by: watching and listening from within the wickiup where the two women had bedded down. In the light of the moon the entrance flap moved slightly then was still.
‘The people here are always afraid when they hear that Mountain Lion is coming. All in the village fear him. He is not the kind of peace-loving Comanche we are. He and the braves who follow him, they are not welcome here for how they make demands on us. Tonight there is concern that if Mountain Lion learns we have shown hospitality to White Eyes and also to Rose Bigheart, which he will perhaps consider is worse, that he will – ‘
The flap of the lodge was now wrenched violently aside and the squaw stepped across the threshold. The startled boy uttered a low cry of alarm and came lithely upright then back stepped several paces.