Sweet Savage Surrender (16 page)

His scowl relaxed “Then it is not true.” He seemed relieved.

“Whispering Wind is a spitting, sour-tempered she-cat!”
             

"Let us leave
Whispering
Wind out of it then. "  He let go of her wrists
, but stood towering over her, his hands on his hips.
"I am not concerned with her action
. Only
with yours.   I have never consid
ered marrying
Whispering
Wind, o
nly you."  He reached out and grabbed her hand
, but this time when he squeezed it tightly, he did so with affection and not with anger. “I do not
have
to tell you how I feel.”

“No, you do not.” For a moment she nearly felt sorry for him. Even though he was arrogant and overly proud, she didn’t want to hurt him.
"You are a strong warrior and I am very proud to be so honored."  Skyraven's voice beca
me al
most a w
h
isper.  "But I have given my heart to another.
”

Despite the gentleness of her tone, he
reached
just as she had anticipated. With anger.
"To  a
white
soldier.
”

“A white warrior, yes. Please understand, Lone Wolf.”

His voice rose to a shout. “
How could you do such a thing?  Everyone expects
us
to marry.
” Grabbing her by the shoulders, he shook
her
as if that would change her mind. “
They always have since we were children."

Skyraven pulled away from his grasp. “Not everyone. Whispering Wind has long been my adversary in such matters. She wants you for herself.”

Usually he would have preened at such a reminder, but now he was strangely subdued. “Then what she has told me is not true. You were just teasing me to scorn me for doubting you.” He had misunderstood her statement, thinking that it was he who had captured her heart after all.

“No. My heart does belong to someone else.”

“Then I will fight for you.” Lone Wolf seemed to want to believe that it was another of the tribe who had caught her eye, for he knew that any one of those young men would have given her up were he to insist. “If that is what you want, to be quarreled over, then I will comply.” Tangling his fingers in her long dark hair, he held her head immobile and gazed down at her.
"Hurry and saddle Running An
telope while I saddle War Pony. We have been at this game long enough.”

“Lone Wolf….”

“
We cam ride the short distance down to the grasslands.  I will show you the horses that the
Cheyenne
helped me capture for your grandfather.  These horses will make you change your
mind and will seal our marriage.”

“Horses?”

His
smile
was cocky. “
Several 
Cheyenne
braves along with Running Hare, Red Dog and I took them from a white rancher. Some white soldiers followed us.   We had a battle and several of the white soldiers were killed
,
but they could not catch us. You wou
ld have been so proud........."

“Proud that you stole from the white man?”

His anger resurfaced. “It is not for you to judge, woman, only to be thankful that I consider you worthy of so much trouble.” Taking her by the hand, he pulled her along. “Now stop your foolish chatter. The day is already half gone.”

He was so strong that she could not help but be pulled along after him. “
Stop, Lone Wolf.  Please stop.
”

He did and, in confusion, searched for her painted pony.

“I no longer have Running Antelope." Skyraven answered his unasked question.

Lone Wolf looked puzzled.  "You no longer have Running Antelope?
What happened to her?” suddenly the realization struck him. “Whispering Wind said that the white soldier was seated on a brown-and-white horse when he leaned down to kiss you good-bye. You gave Running antelope to a white man, didn’t you?” Her silence only angered him further. “Answer me. Didn’t you?”
Her silence only angered him
furth
er. “Answer me. Didn’t you.”

“Yes!”
Horses were the measure of wealth in the Indian society.   A family was as rich as the number of horse
s he had in his
possession
. Skyraven might as
well have given him a bucket full of gold nuggets as to have given him a horse
, for she knew that warriors often valued their horses more than their wives. Even so,
Skyraven
thought with conviction, the animal had been hers to give if she so wanted.

“You gave such a fine animal to the men who kill and plunder our people. You are worse than a fool, woman!”

She tried to explain. “He was in trouble. I showed him kindness. I gave him good and…and my horse when he needed to get back to his soldiers.”

“And what else did you give him? More than a
kiss?”
A
Plains Indian man was the head and  boss of his household.  The Arapaho was a male dominated society
,
  but like the
Cheyenne
, they were noted f
or the fidelity of their women. In Lone wolf’s mind, he and Skyraven were already betrothed, and thus he considered it his right to be furious. “Answer me!” his eyes closed to narrow slits of rage.

“I gave him my heart.” Her voice quieted to a breathy whisper. “And my love.” Now
he knew the truth.  She could no longer evade his questions.  "I cannot a
ccept your marriage proposal nor can my grandfather
accept the horses.  You are an honorable warrior and I admire you greatly.    We have known each other since childhood, our
families
are close friends but I have already given my heart, not another Arapaho but to a white cavalry soldier."
             
Lone Wolf said nothing. 
Clenching his hands into fists, he seemed to be calling upon
every
measure of his self-control not to strike her.
He simply looked right through her as if she were not there
, then
sp
it near at
feet
.  Turning on his
heel
, he left
her standing there alone.

Chapter Sixteen

It had taken
the company of Major
Hanlen
and
Lieutenant Dunham two more days of travel, due east along the Arkansas River, to reach Fort Lyon
,
a desolate, sun baked outpost, far away from any civilization.  Its location on the banks of the
Arkansas
near
Smokey
Mountain
and Sand Creek made it a central  contact between Indi
ans, traders and the military.
Usually, military
personnel
stationed at the few military outposts found such places dreary and monotonous but not so with the small company that was now approaching
Fort
Lyon
.

"It's  a welcome sight isn't it Sam?"  John s
aid to his traveling companion. During the days of travel, the men had gone from the formality of calling each other by their military ranks to “John” and “Sam,” though usually Sam
Dunham
addressed John as “Major” when the other soldiers were around.
             

"Sure is, Major.  After what we have been through we will probably even welcome the five A.M. bugle call.
"

John shook his head
. “I don’t think I would go that far.” Turning in the saddle, he raised his hand and brought the band of war-weary cavalrymen to a halt just in front of the arched passageway over the two gates of the main entrance, which today were open wide, not closed or barred.

"They must be expecting us"  Lieutenant Dunham joked as they entered the quadrangular fifteen feet of wooden wall and passed by the stone buildings.  They galloped past the storeho
uses, corrals, stables, the sutl
er's store and the enlisted men's barrac
ks toward the parade grounds.
As they came closer they could see and hear a five piece marching
band, outfitted
in dress uniform, pla
ying a lively tune of welcome.

Bringing Running Antelope to a slow trot as they came nearer, John turned to the lieutenant
"We seem to be
getting a hero's welcome, Sam" he said
.

Sam smiled and replied, "
After what we’ve been through, every one of us, we’ve earned it." He whispered behind his hand. “Don’t let the other men know, Major, but I arranged that little greeting. Let’s just say one of those soldiers owes me a little favor.”

“I see!” John hid his smile as he dismissed the other cavalrymen. He and Sam took their horses to the stables, dismounted, and gave the animals into the hands of the low-ranked soldiers whose duty it was to feed, water, and unsaddle the mounts. The soldiers would be in for a big surprise, he thought, when running Antelope had her turn. It would undoubtedly liven up the conversation in the barracks when word got around that an Indian pony was on the premises.

“As hard as
the
beds are around here, it will sure beat sleeping on the ground,” Sam Dunham said, trying to match John’s long-legged stride. His legs were much shorter, his frame heavier, causing him to affect a sort of waddle. As the two men walked to the officers’ quarters, a sergeant approached them.
"Colonel
Chi
vington
wants to see you right awa
y, Major,
"
he said.

“Colonel Chivington,” he repeated, looking at Sam Dunham as if to ask what the man was like. By the reaction the first lieutenant gave him, it appeared that the colonel was far from being a likable sort of fellow. “An ogre?” John asked.

Sam shrugged. “More of a religious fanatic. Thinks he was called by God to clear the West of all the Indians. Think he has it in mind to be a hero.”

“I see.”

“I suppose we have to give him a chance. He’s new here. He was a Methodist preacher a while back. Treats us a bit like his congregation. You know the type…..”

Sam Dunham’s look held warning. Still, John was determined to tell the whole story. He wouldn’t allow anyone to force him to tell a lie just because of their prejudices. If a man could stand up against the slavery issue, then certainly he could speak his mind on the Indian situation. Wasn’t it, after all, supposed to be a free country?

“You coming, too?” he asked Sam.

“Yeah, why not! It can’t take too long,” Sam answered. “I’ll walk
over
to the administration office with you and wait outside. When you are through, we can go have that drink at the sutler’s store I promised you.”

John mounted the steps and crossed the boardwalk. The guard with a rifle stretched over his chest stood in front of the door.
"State your name and business
," his voice boomed out.

"Major John Hanlen
,
First Colorado Cavalry Unit here to see Colonel
Chi
vington
.
By request.
"

“Hanlen? Major Hanlen?” The guard eyed him up and down as if there had already been some kind of talk about what had happened to him. He made it a point not to look at the major’s moccasins.
"Enter."  The guard f
lung the heavy door open " The colonel is expecting you."

John approached the big black desk behind which a huge man with a barrel chest looked up to meet his eyes.  His red hair, beard and mustache
glistened in the sunlight that
streamed through
the open window behind him.

John saluted.  "Major John Hanlen re
porting, sir."

"Yes, Major.
” He eyed him with distaste as if the major’s tattered uniform appalled him. ”
I understand that you have quite an interesting story to tell
.”

“Yes, sir.”

“
Sit down and begin if you please."
His voice was so cold that it caused chills to bounce up and down John’s back. A premonition of trouble?

“I took a small band of men on a scouting mission. We were supposed to work ourselves into the Indian’s confidence and report all that we heard. Seems the Confederates are trying to make use of the Indians to aid them in their cause. That’s why I came here from
Missouri
. Well, sir, to make a long story short, we were taken by surprise.” John
related the story
in its entirety, glancing at the colonel from time to time to see his reaction. By the perpetual frown, it didn’t look as if Chivington took the news very favorably.

"You'll never win any medals with that kind of performance, Major."  The Colonel
seemed to stare right through him
with eyes that were nearly black, such a contrast to his pale complexion and red hair.
A former preacher, John thought. Surely the man looked more like the devil.

"We were ambushed, sir.
Outnumbered. We didn't stand a chance."

"Yo
u should have been more careful,” Chivington barked.

“Well, sir, I have found that there are no manuals to be studied that can teach our soldiers how to fight Indians. Practical experience is the only teacher, and so
many
of the men are…”

“Are you telling me that our manuals are worthless?”

“No, sir. It’s just that, well, for this kind of fighting, the Indians are strong, cunning, agile, have great power of endurance, and know the terrain very well. But I have found that some of the Indians want
peace, and so if we were to work on that…..”

“
You
were in command.
” It was obvious the colonel didn’t want to listen to any words on making peace. “
Losing so many men could cal
l for a  court martial
."

“If that’s to be my punishment for surviving, then so be it,” John Hanlen shot back, then tempered his tone as he remembered he was talking to his superior. “I w
ouldn't be
standing here before you now, C
olonel
,
if it hadn't been for a bra
ve Arapaho woman by the name of
Skyraven.
I was tied up by the Utes, but she risked her own well-being to rescue me.”

“Rescue you?” Picking up a pencil, he tapped it like a drumstick against his desk.
"An Arapaho squaw showed such bravery for a white
man.  That is hard to believe."

“I don’t know why. Our American women are showing their bravery every day by aiding in this war—some of them even marching off as soldiers, sir.”

Colonel Chivington shifted in his chair. “That doesn’t have a damn thing to do with this situation.” Again the pencil tapped furiously. “Arapaho, huh? Stepped right in and saved you from one of their own kind.”

“The Ute and Arapaho are enemies, sir. The Ute are warring, the Arapaho want peace.” He told the story of how Skyraven had smuggled him out of the Ute camp and taken him to a cave. He talked of how she brought him food and nursed him back to health. Chivington looked dubious. “It is true, sir. She is the medicine man’s granddaughter. Some of her methods of healing are superior to our own.”

“Superior!” Colonel Chivington stood u
p, showing his full height of s
ix feet four, towering by at least
four inches over John. By now he had fully realized that John Hanlen was a determined advocate of peace with the Indians. “You sound as if you’re soft on savages, Major.
Superior
, indeed. The Indians are stinking heathens. Murdering, marauding swine! Do I make myself clear?”

“Not all of them, sir. Believe me, if you
were
to…..”

“Silence.” A vein in the colonel’s neck pulsated, and for a moment John feared it might burst. “That you would
stand here
before
me defending a savage
s
is hard for me to swallow.
Woman or not, an Indian is an Indian."

John was horrified by the colonel’s attitude. "Please Colonel
Chi
vington
. She saved my life." Somehow he had to make him listen or Skyraven and her people would be in danger.

“Saved your life, be damned!” the colonel became red in the face. He shouted, “Damn any man who is in sympathy with any Indian, male or female.”

“But…..”

“That will be all, Major.” Chivington looked down at the floor, and in that instant noticed what John wore on his feet. “
And take those damned moccasins off!
Makes you look like an Indian yourself.”

Standing outside, young Lieutenant
Sam Dawson couldn't believe what the colonel was saying to
his friend
the major.
             
As John looked toward the window, he saw Sam peeking inside, his finger to his lips…a warning he heeded. But it was too late.

Calling for the guard, Chivington’s words were chilling.
"Lock him in the guard house."

“Sir!” although John had
been expecting
a turbulent interview, he hadn’t been expecting anything like this.

Turning toward John Hanlen
, the colonel’s voice was
stern. “I’ll
check your story out
,
and if it isn't correct, you're in big trouble.
To me, it sounds like an excuse from the lips of a deserter who wants to become a squaw man.” The colonel sat back down, watching as the guards led the prisoner away.