Spirit Pouch (34 page)

William and George maneuver the wagons close together, but even so the wagons provide very little shelter.  I can see right through the spokes of the wheels and right under the wagons.

George runs right past me and I see him pull the rifle from its sheath in the wagon.  He fills his pockets with cartridges and puts one in the rifle.  George finds a spot on the ground partially shielded by a rear wagon wheel.

Elizabeth scoots Annie to a low spot in the trail and they both lie down as low as possible.  Grandmother Brettle follows them.

Grandfather Brettle inches up beside Henry.  "Are they still coming?" he asks.

"They are about five hundred yards off," he says.  "They are talking."

"Probably a war council," Grandpa Brettle says.  "Planning how they intend to attack us."

"I hope not, Father," Henry says.  "I hope they are here to trade with us."

Staying low and using my elbows, I inch my way over to William who is sitting by the front of the wagons.  I have seen enough army movies that I know how it is done.  I didn't realize how much the ground would scratch and hurt against my elbows, though.  "Are those Ute Indians?" I whisper.

"No," William says.  "They are Sioux.  Even from this distance I can see the paint on their faces and the feathers in their hair.  They are dressed for war."

"They won't attack us if we have a gun, will they?"

"Yes," William says.  "And one rifle will not hold them off for very long.  You should get down and stay down."

"What about you?"

See the horse and oxen?" he whispers.  "They have taken to be quite skittish. See how the horse's ears twitch and how she stomps her feet.  She knows something is happening.  She can smell the other horses and she is alert."

I look at William with that dumb city-boy look.

"She could bolt any second if the Indians attack.  That's part of what the Sioux Indians do.  Scare the animals.  I'm going to try and keep her calm.  You need to get down and hide if you can."

"Got it," I say and I crawl on my elbows back to Ty.

"Ah, Mother," I hear Annie whine.

"Put your hair under your hat right now," Elizabeth says.

"George says that I look like a boy."

"Good.  The Sioux can think that, too.  Maybe they will let you live."

Annie rolls her hair and pulls her hat over it.

"They are coming," Henry yells to us.  "Stay down."  He steps back and slides behind a wagon wheel.

I can see most of the Sioux warriors now, sitting low on their horses, rifles and bows in their hands, colored paint on their faces and arms.  They ride like the wind, some to the left and some to the right.  Eight or ten terrifying, wild warriors, racing and riding, long hair streaming behind them.

"What are they doing?" I ask, more to myself than anyone.

"They are surrounding us," Ty answers.  "We can't escape.  We can't shoot back as easily.  You know, divide and conquer.  Divide our attention and our resources."

As if by some signal they begin shooting.  A bullet whistles over head and imbeds itself into the wagon behind me.

"Keep down," Henry calls.

I don't have to be told.  I am like paper on a table.  Like water on the floor.  I scoot into some tall yellow prairie grass and Ty does, also.  William does not.  The horse is prancing and dancing and William has her reins, one hand on her head and he is talking softly, patting her large brown face.

Through the wagons I spy an Indian ride by, shooting into the blue sky.  "They are not shooting at us," I say quietly.  "They are just making noise."

"To scare us," Ty says.

"It's working," I answer.  "But at least they are not
shooting
at us."

As if in reply an arrow zings past me and impales the wagon.  Another swishes through a wagon wheel, swipes a spoke and veers into the group of women.

Annie screams.

"Annie," Elizabeth breathes.  She rips open Annie's shirt at the shoulder where the arrow struck.  "You are okay.  It just cut your shoulder.  Hold still."  Elizabeth breaks the arrow and pulls two pieces from under the skin on her shoulder.

Annie cries out again, "It hurts."

"Hold this with your hand," she says.  "The bleeding will stop."

"Spread out," Henry yells.  "Don't be an easy target."

The wild reckless shooting ceases suddenly as if a great switch has been thrown to the off position, and all is quiet.

The cattle settle down a little and not even a bird chirping can be heard.

"It is really quiet," I say.

"Are they gone?" Annie cries.

"No," Elizabeth warns.  "They are still there.  Stay down."

"We are blessed to be alive," Henry says quietly from beside the wagon.

"Very blessed," William agrees, ducking down behind the wagon but still holding the reins.  "They must have shot off five hundred rounds!"

I peer through the spokes of the wheel next to me.  Several Indians are much closer now.

One speaks in English, loud enough that we can all hear.  "Come out here, Jack, and we will make peace with you."

Henry starts to get up.

"No you don't, Henry," Elizabeth says.  "They don't want peace.  They want to shoot us!"

"They want our supplies," Henry answers.  "And I would gladly give them all our supplies if they let us live.  Besides, we only have one gun.  We have no way to protect ourselves.  I am going to make peace."  Henry stands up. "George, aim for the tall one.  If they decide not to make peace, shoot him."

"Henry," Elizabeth says.

He turns and looks at her.  "I'll be all right."

"I love you," she says, and cries as he steps away to negotiate with the Sioux.

No one speaks, and I barely allow myself to breathe as I follow with my eyes every step Henry takes.  He stops in front of the warriors, and from his hand gestures I figure that he is describing some of our supplies.

"He sure is brave," I whisper to Ty.  "I don't think I would go out there like that."

"Not brave," Ty says.  "Courageous.  The ability to do difficult things in the face of fear.  That's courage."

"Your probably right," I whisper.  "I still couldn't go out there like that.  Those guys look like they would rather shoot you or scalp you or both."

"It looks like they are coming to some sort of agreement," Ty says.  "Way to go, Henry."

"He's coming back," William announces.  "He must have made peace."

I see Henry turn and start toward the wagons and his family.  He is smiling as he walks, and the Indians sit in a line behind him, high on their horses, terrifying, threatening.

One warrior raises his rifle with one hand and points it at Henry.

"Father!  Watch out!" William yells.

Henry looks startled at first, then turns his head.

I see a puff of smoke from the warrior's rifle.  Henry jerks back and falls limp to the ground, just as the crack of the rifle reaches my ears.

"Father!" William cries, but his voice is smothered by whoops and yells and cries from the Indian warriors who shot him down like a dog.  They raise their hands in the air, screaming, chanting, yelling, waving their spears, bows and rifles.  Rifle shots rip into the blue sky, and in one motion the painted, screaming warriors and their horses spring forward, racing toward us.

"Shoot, George.  Shoot!" William yells.

Elizabeth is on her feet now.  "Henry!  Henry!" she screams.  Turning toward the Indians, "You murderers.  You savages.  Is that how you make peace?"  She starts toward the Indians with equal fury.

Annie latches onto her skirt and William grabs her hand.  "Mother, get down."

George's bullet misses it's mark but I see two warriors look directly at him with fury in their eyes, then shoot their rifles toward us.  A bullet hits George and he collapses to the ground, sprawled out like a rag doll, and does not move again.

Elizabeth screams just as a volley of bullets whistle into our camp and three arrows swish overhead.  One arrow slices across Annie's back, cutting her as it passes, then sticks into the dirt behind us.  The yelling, screaming shooting warriors riding toward us at full gallop spook the horse.  She whinnies and rears up, ears down and eyes wild.  When her front hooves hit the dirt again she is running, and the oxen start in a panic, also, dragging the wagons behind them.  The wagons did not provide much cover from the savage onslaught of the Indians, but now we have no protection at all.  We are all exposed.

I see an Indian veer to the side, aim his rifle and shoot twice.  One ox drops dead, breaking the wagon tongue.  The wagon stops abruptly, teeters precariously on two wheels for a long second, then crashes onto its side, spilling its contents across the trail.

Grandmother and Grandfather Brettle run to escape as the first warrior reaches our family.  An arrow pierces Grandmother's back and she falls on her face.  Grandfather stops to help her, but she does not move.  The savages are upon us now.  One smashes Grandfather's head with the butt of his rifle as he rides by.

Another warrior rides into our family, horse hooves thundering and spraying dirt as he turns toward William.  He swings the stock of his rifle at William's head.  William ducks and rolls to the side.  The rifle misses him, but nearly scalps him as it skims through his hair.  The warrior, streaked with paint, jumps from his horse as it skids to a stop.  He picks up Elizabeth, ripping her away from Annie who is still clutching the skirt of her mother's dress, and throws her onto the back of the prancing horse, then with practiced ease re-mounts and rides swiftly away as other warriors follow.

Annie screams in terror, crying after her mother.  A ferocious looking Indian stops and laughs at her, then points his gun and fires.  I think she is dead, but the bullet misses her, and Annie drops to the ground, senseless from fright.

Most of the Indians are moving toward the overturned wagon.  William is back on his feet and I see him start after the Indians with rage in his eyes.  I lunge from where Ty and I have been lying in the grass, and tackle him from the side, taking him down so fast it would have made any high school football coach proud.

"Get off me," he spits.  "What are you doing?  Did you see what they did?"

"Shut up!" I breathe harshly.  "I'm saving your life.  If you go out there they will kill you."

"They killed George!  They killed Annie!  They killed Father."  He started to cry.  "They took Mother prisoner!  I have to …" he struggles to push me off of him.

"Annie is alive," I say.  "What you really need to do is take her and run."

"They will just shoot us."

"Maybe," I say.  "I think they want you to escape so you can tell everyone how terribly frightening they are."

"I can certainly do that!  What are you going to do?"

"I guess we will follow you as soon as we know that you have gotten away."

William pushes me off of him and crawls over to Annie.  she is moving now and her eyes are open.  "Come on Annie.  We've got to escape!"

"Stay down in the grass until you are far enough away," I say, and I watch William and Annie crawl away in the direction of the Laramie Stage Station.  Staying low I scoot back over to where Ty is lying and I grab one of the broken arrows that hit Annie.

Chapter
Twenty

The Brave

"Are
William and Annie gone?" Ty asks in a whisper.

"Yes," I answer.  "But they couldn't have gotten very far.  They just barely left."

"I hope it is far enough, because one of the Sioux is coming this way.  I think he saw some movement."

"Quick!  Play dead.  Maybe they will leave us alone."  I roll over and stick a broken arrow under my arm so it will look like I have been shot. 
I saw that trick in a movie once and it worked then.  Besides, opossums play dead and their species has survived.  What could it hurt?

"No," Ty says.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" I hiss.  "You got a better plan?"

"If they see William and kill him, then we die, too.  I'm going to cause a distraction so he can escape."

"Are you crazy," I hiss, trying to look dead.

"I've been called worse."

I feel him move and I know he is getting up. 
You are crazy!
I think to myself, but I don't move.  I don't blink.  I hardly breathe.

"I want to be a Sioux warrior," Ty yells.

I crack my eyes open to just imperceptible slits.  At least I hope  the slits are imperceptible, but I have to see what crazy thing Ty is doing.  I see him walk slowly with his arms folded in front of him and his chest pushed out, until the warriors are all looking away from William and Annie.  The closest warrior points an arrow at him.  The others speak in their own language and then they all laugh.

"Just a boy," the leader says walking up close to Ty.

"I am strong and brave!" Ty responds making his voice as deep as he can.

"You are just a boy," the leader says again.

Ty points toward one of the other warriors.  "He is just a boy, but you let him ride with you."

I could tell he picked the youngest Indian.

The leader translates for Ty and the young brave walks up to Ty and tries to push him over.  Ty does not resist, but bends and twists and side steps to let the push roll off and past him.  The young warrior, expecting resistance, loses his balance for a brief second, but recovers quickly.

"I do not wish to fight my brother," Ty says, pointing his hand toward the young warrior.  "I only wish to be a Sioux warrior like he is."

The young warrior speaks quickly with anger in his voice.

"You have spoken words of shame, but yet you speak with a brave tongue.  Black Hawk demands to fight you, to restore his honor as a man and warrior."

Black Hawk slides a wicked looking knife from it's sheath and yells something in the Lakota language.

"A true man and warrior does not need a knife," Ty says quickly.

Black Hawk speaks firmly and I see hatred in his eyes.

"A warrior chooses his own weapon," the leader translates, lowering his mace that looks more like a spear with feathers tethered to the end.

Yikes!  What is he thinking?
I say to myself in alarm. 
He is risking his life so that William can escape.  But he is going to die here in 1866 Dakota Territory at the hand of a Sioux warrior.  And I can't help him.  If I try, they will shoot me down just like they did to Henry.  No.  I think I will stay right here.
  I do not move, but I watch through almost closed eyes.

Black Hawk crouches, feet apart.  His hand holds the shiny, sharp knife, making small intimidating jabs toward Ty.  I would be petrified because that knife looks like it could easily skin a buffalo, but Ty stands a short distance away watching Black Hawk's eyes.

Ty steps backward so one leg is in front of the other, his forward knee bends, and his hands curl up into fists.  Black Hawk lunges forward like a charging bull, knife leading in his out stretched arm directly toward Ty's chest.  I totally expect Ty to be impaled in a moment, on his back and dying before my eyes.  I know I will cry.

In a blur, Ty's left arm flies upward, deflecting the hand with the knife.  His right arm shoots forward, twisting as his knuckles contact Black Hawk's face.  Black Hawk stops and staggers for a split second, and I am as shocked as he is.

Stepping forward, Ty's left arm advances and his fist lands again into Black Hawk's face.  Ty's knee lifts and like lightning his foot shoots out, delivering a blow to the warrior's right arm.

Black Hawk's hand involuntarily releases the knife and it flies two yards to the side.  He sees the weapon fall to the ground and moves toward it.  Ty steps in his path and Black Hawk rushes him.

Ty blocks Black Hawk's arms, steps to the side, and jabs a forceful fist into his side.  I hear his ribs crack and he rolls over onto the ground.

Ty kicks the knife into the air and several yards away, then backs up, turning toward the leader.  "I do not want to fight my brother.  Brothers should not fight one another."

Black Hawk rises quietly to his feet and hands, then jumps toward Ty from behind.  I want to scream to warn him, but no sound comes.  Just as Black Hawk comes in range, Ty's knee comes up and his foot flies out in a blur of fury, shooting into Black Hawk's chest.  Stepping toward him, Ty kicks again and his shoe sinks into the warrior's stomach.  Black Hawk topples to the ground and cannot move.  Ty stands over him and yells, "I am the victor and I declare this challenge to be over.  I can kill Black Hawk, but I choose to take not his life.  Instead, I choose to give him life, for he is a great warrior, and he is certainly brave to fight another man.  I, too, am brave.  Because of
my
bravery, I demand to be counted among you as a great warrior."

The Indian leader raises his mace, "You will come with us.  Our Chief will accept you, or you will die.”

"I speak for my brother, also.  He is not so brave but he is strong and can run like the wind."  Ty points right toward me.

The warriors turn and look, but their eyes do not rest upon me.

"You speak of the boy running away like a dog with its tail between its legs?" the leader asks.

I see a warrior lift his bow and send two arrows sailing toward William and Annie.

"No," Ty yells.  "They are but children.  A child is not an enemy to be shot like a dog.  I speak of my brother here."

Ty walks over to me and pokes me with his foot.  "Get up," he hisses.

I allow Ty to pull me to my feet and I let the broken arrow to fall to the ground.

"My brother can run very fast.  In my land he is called, 'Runs-Like-Deer'."

"Our chief will decide.  You will come with us."  The leader turns his horse.  "Bring them."

We walk with the Sioux while they ride their horses.  Black Hawk glares at us and calls out something in the Lakota language as his horse trots by.

"You took a big risk back there, you know," I say, still a little angry.  "I mean, I barely find out that you are my brother, and you have some sort of death wish.  And then you drag me into it."

"What do you mean, bro'?"

"I mean you jumping up and picking a fight with a Sioux warrior.  And he had a blade.  He could have stabbed you through the heart.  And there's no penicillin here, remember?"

"Yeah, the knife was a risk," Ty admits.  "But Black Hawk is a wimp.  Besides, I was saving William."

"Saving him?  That Sioux warrior over there shot them both!" I say trying not to yell.

"He missed," Ty says.  "He didn't hit William.  Both arrows hit Annie.  I saw her fall."

"Really?" I say, and my heart sinks.  "That's too bad.  I like Annie.  She doesn't deserve to die like this.  None of them deserve this.  And for what?  Some bacon and a couple hundred pounds of flour?"

"For what it's worth," Ty says, "I don't think Annie is dead."

"Why?  You just said that you saw her fall."

"The warrior shot from a very long distance.  He hit her, twice, but I don't think the arrows had enough speed to penetrate very far.  My guess is that she is still alive.  And you know that William is alive."

"How do I know that?"

"Because
we
are still alive.  That's why."

"I guess that's true, huh?  We are his descendants. If he died, we would no longer exist."  I thought about that for a moment.  "Well, you didn't have to drag me into your crazy scheme.  I was happy playing dead back there.  Now I'm hostage to a bunch of assassins."

"I had to bring you with me," Ty says.

"You didn't have to," I argued.

"Yes I did.  You have the spirit pouch."

We spot one of the warriors looking at us so we stop talking.

The sun is a big red ball hanging low in the west when we crest a hill on which stand two Sioux guards.  In the valley below, along a winding stream is a small Sioux village.

The procession of warriors leads us past two teepees and then dissipates.  Only the leader stays with us.  In a moment two men come walking toward us.  One has an abundance of feathers in his hair and also a very impressive necklace made with ten large black claws. 
I don't want to tangle with what ever animal those claws came from,
I think to myself.  The other man wears long pants and a rough cloth shirt that has multi-colored beads sewn down the front in a pattern.  In his hand is a long, brown, tubular shaft.  I see Ty looking at the shaft and our eyes meet.

"Pipe," he says.

I raise an eyebrow.

"For smoking," he says quietly.

A peace pipe,
I think. 
It must not work.  They seem to be at war.
  The leader of the raiding warriors speaks to the two men in the Lakota language and they answer.

"Our chief, Ma-tow-pah, which means Four Bears, agrees to speak with you.  Wam-bu-lee-wah-kon, which means Medicine Eagle also agrees to speak with you.  Red Thunder will leave you now."

"You are Oh-he-te-kah, The Brave," Four Bears says pushing his hand toward Ty.  His face is set like stone and his voice is deep, sharp and commands respect and attention.

"Yes," Ty answers.  He does not bow or even break eye contact.

Four Bears waves toward me with his hand, "You must be the little brother.  Not brave.  You are Runs-Like-Deer."

"Yes," I answer, trying to mimic Ty. 
If Ty dies, I guess I die, too.  So far he lives.  That's a good thing,
I think to myself.

"White Man have many pockets," Four Bears says.  "White Man have weapons in pockets.  Give me your weapons."  He points to Ty.

Ty pulls a ballpoint pen, his four generation fan chart, and his student identification with his picture on it out of his pockets and hands them to Four Bears.

Four Bears looks at the items.  "These are not weapons.  These are for painting."  He makes a bluish-purple line on his hand with the pen.  "Does not paint good."  He turns the ID card over and stares at the photograph.  "You do not look so brave in the picture.  Red Thunder says you do not need weapons.  You fight with your hands better than Black Hawk does with a knife."  He hands the items back to Ty.

"Runs-Like-Deer.  Give me your weapons."

I pull out my pocket knife, fingernail clippers, wallet, the bumblebee taw, a comb and the spirit pouch, and hand them to Four Bears.  The bumblebee taw and the comb he hands back.  "These are not weapons," he says.  He examines the pocket knife and eventually gets it to open.  "This weapon is no good."  He pulls his own knife from its sheath.  "Knife must be fast.  Knife must be ready.  Bear kill you before knife is ready.  Knife too small to skin buffalo."  He hands the knife back to me and studies the fingernail clippers.  "What does this weapon do?" he asks.

"It trims fingernails," I say pointing to the nail on my finger.  Four Bears looks like he is deep in thought.  "I'll show you," I say.  I take the clippers and cut one of my nails.  Then I hand the clippers back.  "I give this to you as a gift," I say.

Four Bears accepts the gift and then opens my wallet.  "This is your squaw?" he asks, pointing to the picture of Lyn.

"No," I say.  "Just a friend."

He pulls two one-dollar bills from my wallet.  That is all I own so I hope he gives them back. 
Beside
s, I think,
It would not be very good for the time continuum to have bills from the future floating around in 1866.

"White Man money," he says.  "No good.  Better to have a warm blanket in the winter than White Man money."  He hands my wallet and money back to me which I shove back into my pocket.

Four Bears opens the spirit pouch and peers inside.  "Rock, feather, bean.  These not weapons."  He starts to hand it back to me, but Medicine Eagle speaks quickly in the Lakota language.  Four Bears gives Medicine Eagle the pouch, then says, "You may stay with us for a short time.  How long you stay depends upon tomorrow."