Sweet Savage Surrender (46 page)

Resolved
, John hurried
to the door of the Sedg
wick quarters.  Trying the door
knob
,
he was pleasantly surprised to find it unlocke
d, though it
emphasized his need for speed.  Apparently Sedgwick didn't intend to be gone long.  He had to fetch Skyraven before he returned.  With that thought in mind
,
he opened the door, walked boldly in the room
,
and headed immediat
ely for the Sedgwick's bedroom. Time was of the essence, good manners out of the question.

"Gwen Ella!"   He called out her name as he pushed through the door, and found her sitting up in bed
, reading a book by lamplight.

"What....?  Major Hanlen!  What on earth....?"  Clutching the bedcovers to her bosom
,
she lo
oked on the verge of a scream.

"Don't make a sound."  He put his finger to his lips
,
warning her to keep silent.  "I don't want to hurt
you.  That is not my intent."

"Then what....?"  She didn't look as if she bel
ieved him.

"There is an Indian girl living here under your care
.  I want you to release her."

"What?"

"You heard what I said."

"Why?"

"I'm going to take her back to her people
.  That is where she belongs."

"No....!"  The word died on her lips as he took two steps into the room.  "Major, do you understand what the consequences of such actions will be?  They'll put you in p
rison for this.  They'll....."

"I'm a wanted man already."  He didn't have time to explain or to reason with her.  "Now, do as I say.  Quickly!  Ther
e isn't much time."  He took only one
more step
,
but that was enough to persuade her to follow his orders.  Rising from the bed
,
she crossed the room and took a ring o
f keys from a peg on the wall.

"She's locked in the other bedroom.  Henry insisted you see, though I didn't want to treat her quit
e so harshly," she explained.

"Then unlock the door!"  John was losing his patience.  She was moving as slowly as a snail.
"Or give me the key!  Hurry!"

"All right.  All right."  Her eyes were focused steadily on a point just beyond where John stood.  He whirled around to see Henry Sedgwick standing behind hi
m, pointing a gun at his back.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Major John Hanlen paying call.
A man can’t even leave his own rooms to get cigarette papers without intrusion.”
  He sneered.  "If I were a jealous man, Major I'd  be livid right now, thinking perhaps you'd come to pay to pay court to my wife.  As it is
, I know her
loyalty to me is without question,
and
therefore I must ask
just what you are doing here?"

"He came to get Skyraven, Henry.  I
…I
don't really think he meant a
ny harm.  He was
just
acting
impetuous
ly
.  Pleas
e.....don't...don't shoot him! Why...why  Martha
would never forgive us.  Y
ou know how she dotes on her son."

John's eyes darted back and forth like a trapped animal searching for a way of escape.  There was none.  Sedgwick's tall frame blocked the door
as he said,
  "Call the guards, Gwen Ella.  Call them at once or I will shoot him, by thunde
r.  He's a traitor and worse...!"

As if fearing he might carry out his threat, Gwen Ella hastened to the door and soon had three stout guards in attendance.  And though John had had visions of a daring rescue of the woman he loved, he instead found himself being marched off towards the brig
, a
prisoner once again.

PART THREE:  On Wings of Love

Colorado
Territory
 

“
And seem to walk on wings and tread in air.”

----The Iliad of Homer

Chapter Forty-
Eight
             
It was cold in his jail cell.  Winter had come upon the territory  quickly and with a vengeance. 
Perhaps, John Hanlen thought as he huddled in the corner of his cell to keep warm, the Great Spir
it was venting H
is
anger at what had been done to H
is people.  And the Great Spirit was not alone in his vengeance.  On one of Sam's visits he had told John that two thousand
Cheyenne
, Northern Arapaho and Sioux warriors were gathering together in villages on the
Republican River
. 
"And I don't believe its to make conversa
tion," Sam had said. “A
fter what has happe
ned I really can't blame them.
Bad thing about all of it is that the innocent on both sides are going to be killed.  And all the time Chivington is eatin' it all up.  Why he's been hailed as a hero for God's sake.
”

Sam
had
related the gossip buzzing around the fort. "The old buzzard was given a tumultuous welcome.  He became the man of the hour, a hero.  Why
,
it's said by one of the soldiers who was there and saw it that the colonel and his men paraded through
Denver
's streets, Chivington in the lead, holding a live eagle aloft and tied to a pole.  And all the while the townspeople cheered wildly.  Hell
,
Chivington and his gang of murderers paraded their assortment of trophies on the Indian ponies they had stolen.  Same thing happened nearby in
Boulder
.  They received a rowdy welcome there as well, before the men returned to their ranches, farms and mining claims.  A Captain Nichols and his men boasted that t
hey had brought down the great s
out
hern Arapaho Chief Left Hand."

So, John thought, Skyraven's chief was dead. He had held hope that perhaps just like Chief Black Kettle
,
he might
have miraculously escaped.  Not
no.  Chivington and his mercenaries had killed and profited by their deed with impunity.  There was no justice.  Certainly he
himself hadn't gotten
any
, though he expected
better
.  A "kangaroo court" is what he called his trial
, a travesty of lawfulness
.
  The room had been packed with those soldiers who had been against the Indians all along. John’s “peers” had been handpicked by Sedgwick. And just as he
had supposed
,
he had been found guilty.  Now he awaited the death sentence that was to come in just two days time.  Death by firing squad.  Sedgwick, that perpetrator of mercy, had openly boasted of his leniency in giving the Major extra time to
,
as he called it
,
"make his peace with God" before sentence was carried out.

"Your father will
take some action.
  I have to believe that he will," Sam had said over and over
,
and yet as the hours passed by John wondered.  Sedgwick knew exactly what he was doing.  He wouldn't allow him to have any contact with his father.  He knew how long it took for the mail to travel east, if indeed it ev
er arrived there at all.  T
he war  between the states
had things
in a raging turmoil.  If his father intervened
,
it w
ould undoubtedly be too late, t
hough Sedgwick would most likely make it appear as if he did every thing within his po
wer to save the general's son.

"Indeed he did everything in his power to make certain I'd be put safely out of the way....."  John whispered beneath his breath.  For the moment it certainly appeared as if the world was ruled by the devil.  As a child he'd been taught that right always overpowered wrong
,
but he'd learned first hand tha
t it was just a silly saying. 

In the corner, crinkled into   tight balls to reflect his outrage
,
were  copies of newspaper articles,
The Rocky Mountain
News
of December 8th and 12th to be exact.  He knew the dates by heart as well as the unsettling headlines - "Great Battle With Indians!  The Savages Dispersed!    Five Hundred Indians Killed.  Our Loss
,
Nine Killed, Thirty-Eight Wounded".  The
Denver
City
paper gave an account of the battle,
reporting the incident with great pride,
though it was hardly the same one John recognized. 
A thousand incidents of individual daring and the passing of events might be told, it said, had space permitted. All had acquitted themselves well, the paper reported, and the
Colorado
soldiers had covered themselves in glory.
But then
,
as stated in the article
,
the primary source of the news was a brief report by Colonel J. M. Chivington, a former Methodist
minister, now commander of the military district of Colorado.

With the perverse intent of renewing his indignant anger, John
read one of the pages again
, noting
that Colonel Chivington, whom it now called the "old war horse", would be in
Denver
City
that very evening.  The Third Regiment, which had made up the larger portion of his forces, would
soon follow.  A
letter from one of his followers had exulted, "we have met the enemy and h
ave gained the greatest victory
west of the
Missouri
over the savages".  The writer added his opinion that the brave soldiers had completely broken up the tribe and that the settlers would not be further molested by them.  Worst of all
,
it detailed a parade through
Denver
in which the men had been cheered as the saviors of the frontier.  Some of them had appeared between acts of a performance at the theater, where they had shown off the Indian scalps and described their brave deeds to applause.

With
the incident at Sand Creek had passed the last chance for reasonable men to come to an agreement that would allow for peace. John
crinkled the paper up again in disgust. 
The article had also said that the campaign of the
Colorado
volunteers would stand out in history with few rivals, and none to exceed it in final results. If only he had a match, John thought in disgust, he would have started a fire with the article to keep himself warm, for it was worth nothing more than kindling.

John he had become numb to his fear.  At first he had wondered what it would be like standing before a line of soldiers, knowing they were going to shoot you down.  Now he wondered if he really cared
.
  His only regret was leaving Skyraven with no one to protect her and yet Sam had given his word to watch over her from afar.  The young soldier had even promised to take her back to her people if the opportunity ever presented itself.  John trusted
that he would keep his word.

John passed the time by pacing.  Certainly there wasn't much else to do
.
The guards would not allow any visitors.  It was as if Sedgwick worried that someone might take pity on the Major and help him
escape.
What was worse was that without Sam's daily visits he was isolated from the outside world as well.  All he could do was wait, knowing the final outcome of the passing days would be his death.

Chapter Forty-Nine
             

I
n her room
,
Skyraven felt miserably lost. She had never been so
completely alone before.  In
her own lodge there were others of her own kind within a stone's throw from her tepee. The
lieutenant c
olonel and his wife were ri
ght in the next room but
their pr
esence did not give her a
sense of security.   She was as different from them  as a deer from a horse.  Their custom
, even the way they thought,
were so at variance with h
ers.
They just didn't understand, wouldn't listen to her plea to let her go.  Though they decried her protestations that she was a prisoner
,
they locked her in her room at night to keep her from escape
.

She eyed the tall bed  with distaste.  Even in their manner of sleeping these white people were odd.  Skyraven had made up her mind right from the first that she would not sleep on the foolish contraption.  What if she should fall off? She did not trust it.  She would be better off nearer the ground.   Pulling the blankets from the bed
,
she had carefully spread them on the floor and despite Gwen
E
lla's pleading that she would be more comfortable on the mattress
,
had made t
he floor her sleeping place. 

Skyraven missed the comfort of her own lodge and the companionship of her grandfather and her friend, Desert Flower.  How she would love to talk to her  grandfather right now
. She would like nothing better than to throw her arms around his neck and never let him go.
"Oh Grandfather, Grandfather" she sighed, "P
lease be alive and well."  It was all she cared about now.  If he was alive
,
somehow
, they would be reunited.

The silvery moon shone down upon the officer's barracks, peering through the tiny window of her room.  She snuggled down beneath the grey blankets marked "PROPERTY OF THE U.S. CAVALRY" and tried to sleep
,
but just as she was last night and each previous night before she was haunted by the visions in her dreams.  She heard the cannons roar, saw people falling all around her,  Desert Flower's baby cried and she could not keep him  quiet.  What if the enemy should hear him and find their hiding place?   She called to her grandfather
,
but he did not answer
.

"No....no!"  She saw a soldier pull Desert Flower from her hiding place, saw him violate her then slit her throat with a knife.  "No!"  Thrashing her head from side to side she cried out.  "Leave the baby alone!  Please, have mercy."  But the soldiers would not listen.  Wrenching Big Bear from her arms they dashe
d his head against a tree.....

Skyraven awoke with a scream trembling on her lips.  Covering her mouth with her hand
,
she forced herself to keep silent.  It was just a dream.  Desert Flower was safe.  She had seen her at hiding in her place of shelter as she had passed by on horseback.  And yet what had happened to her friend after that?  What if Desert Flower had been captured after all?  How
would she ever know her fate?

Although she was extremely tired
,
her sleep was constan
tly disturbed, thus she had taken
to walking about at night until she was so exhausted she could sleep through the night.   Several times throughout the night she  would awaken in a cold sweat and walk to the window to look out
,
just as she did at this moment, wishing she could get free of the fort.  If she knew her people, and she thought that she did, she suspected they would return to the Smokey Hill camp and from there move on toward their winter camp.  Oh, how she longed to be with them
instead of being trapped here.

"If only I were a bird I would fly far away....." she whispered, peering out the tiny window.  Indeed
, the window was too
small
to have any hope of escaping through it.

Skyraven looked out at the white man's camp.  All the lights were out.  Everything was in darkness.   It was as quiet as could be.  Only the shadow of the sentry walking along the tower
parapet
gave evidence of any life at all.  Even the horses were quiet.  Just as she had every night, she now had thoughts of escape
,
but  also knew that they would do no good
, that she
would never be able to get free of the
white man’s
watchful eyes.  Besides,  she did not even know how many of her tribesmen remained alive.  Perhaps in truth there was no one
, she thought in distress
. 

How s
he hated being here among people who would do such a
treacherous thing to a
group of Indians
as friendly as
Left Hand's and Black Kettle's bands
.
No one had worked harder
for
peace
than those two chiefs
,
and yet she supposed they were both dead.
She  knew both of them
well
enough to be certain they
would
still
work
for a peaceful settlement despite what had happened
,
were they alive.  They would tell her not to
bury her hateful feelings and continue to strive toward peaceful relations with the white man.
If living in peace meant not avenging what had been done to her people
,
then she considered her duty done.  Though she saw the eyes of the other women staring at her
, she had comported herself in a way that would have made her grandfather proud.

As the evening wore on
, Skyraven made up her mind
once again to make the best of a bad situation.  She was lucky to be alive.  Gwen
E
lla had been very good to her.  She could not complain about that.  If everyone here was as understanding as Gwen
E
lla
,
perhaps she would learn to tolerate this new way of life.   At least she had to try
, for she had no other
choice.  With that thought in mind
,
she returned to her bed and huddled among the covers
.

Morning came all too quickly.   It seemed  she had just settled down  and dozed off when the bugle sounded.  Half awake,  she threw off the covers,  stumbled over to the wooden bucket and splashed her face with cold water.  She scoffed as she struggled into her new white man's clothing,  a dress of a yellow material Gwen
E
lla called "
gingham
", doubting that she would ever really grow accustomed to wearing such odditi
es.  She longed for her own doe
skin dress,
leggings
and moccasins,
but such attire had
been strictly forbidden. A
t least Gwen Ella had not insisted that she wear the funny looking hoop skirt.  Skyraven wished she could tell Desert Flow
er about the garments
.
They would have a good laugh.

While she dressed, the fort was immediately coming  alive.  She began to hear all sorts of sounds
drifting through the window:
horse's hooves
pounding,
  trumpets blaring, voices shouting out
orders and
feet
scuffling
. 

The Sedgwicks were already up and about.  She heard
his
muffled voice
,
then Gwen
Ella's
sounded  from  the kitchen area.   "No Henry, let her sleep she was
totally
exhausted last night.  It won't hurt me to  get breakfast this morning .  Skyraven wil
l have plenty to do later on."

Skyraven made herself presentable
,
then listened to the sound of a key turning in the lock of her room.  Strange
,
but she had the feeling that someone was peering through the keyhole at her but
brushed
the thought aside as fanciful imaginings.  Tying the laces of the silly leather objects the
white men called shoes
, she opened the door.  S
he was  almost reluctant to  enter the kitchen, thus s
he stood in the doorway. 

Henry Sedgwick did not look nearly as imposing this morning as he had before when she had looked upon his slim form.  He did not have on his complete uniform today.   He was dressed in his blue trousers with the yellow stripe down the side
,
but he had only suspenders over his bare shoulders.  He did not have on his hat with the plume, his blue coat with
the large gold buttons and epaul
ets, his high topped boots, his gloves
,
or even his neckerchief.  Skyraven noticed that he was much too
thin
, not
very muscular at all.  His dark hair was thinning to  almost balding on top.  He had a full
,
dark mustache over his narrow lips, rather large ears and deep set  brown eyes.  Why had she been so afraid of him?  His gruffness?  The way he always stared at her?  Because he was the leader to the soldiers? 
She determined that she would never again allow h
im to frighten her so. 

He is an odd match for
Gwen Ella, Skyraven thought, turning her attention to the white woman, who
was dressed in
what she
referred
to as
a
wrapper
.  Her hair had not yet  been styled and hung
loosely
down to her shoulders. The dark strands in front were streaked with some gray .  Both of the Sedgwicks were seated at a makeshift plank table that would serve them until their own furniture arrived.  The table
,
too
,
was a contraption Skyraven thought to be foolish.  Why have such a thing when a person could just put their food on the ground.  How strange that these white people always wanted to be so far away from mother earth, perched on their lofty pedestals even while eating and
sleeping. 

"My dear....." 
The lieutenant
c
olonel cleared his throat when he saw Skyraven standing there in the doorway.  She looked very beautiful even this early in the morning, he thought, trying to win her over with a smile.  "Come on in Skyraven.  I have just finished my
breakfast
so yo
u can keep Gwen Ella company."

"Oh
, no....I  just...."

He tried to hide his irritation.  The little chit always acted as if he might bite her at any moment.
  How was he ever going to get close
to her if she reacted to him that way?  Though he had tried and tried he just couldn't seem to win her trust.  "I must get dressed and hurry over to headquarters
,” he said as much to himself as to the Indian girl. “
There is much to be done to prepare for Colonel Chivington's return.  He...he is coming to a little ceremony we are having."   Major Hanlen's execution he thought, remembering the night that foolish soldier had so blatantly broken in to the officer's quarters with the thought in mind of saving this Indian girl. 

Knowing that she had been John Hanlen's lover somehow made her all the more interesting to Sedgwick.
Only recently
had
he remembered her face; he had seen her with Hanlen the day he secretly observed the young
officer’s
dealings with the Indians near Sand Creek. He’d seen their embrace and knew they were lovers.
Certainly she must be a pretty hot little piece of tail for a man to risk his own life that way.  Well, in time he would see
for himself.

Gwen Ella was all smiles as she bade a good morning to Skyraven and indicated
that Skyraven should sit on the bench next to her. Even so Skyraven declined the invitation, taking her
accu
stomed
seat on the floor.  "
Skyraven, when are you ever going to learn...."  She clucked her tongue in frustration.  "Oh, Henry......"  She shru
gged her shoulders helplessly.

"Let me take a hand."  Coming to where Skyraven was seated
, Sedgwick
reached for her arm, allowing his hands to brush against her breasts as he helped her to her feet. 
And very nice breasts at that, he thought. Soft, yet firm. Much rounder and fuller than his wife’s. Oh, to touch the bare skin of those tantalizing globes! "Come, s
it here next to Gwen Ella, Skyraven. It is time you learned our ways.  You've been with us two and a half weeks now."  Once again he made use of his action of helping her to touch her breasts. "Gwen Ella has you
r day well planned no doubt."