Wolf Shadow’s Promise (25 page)

The lieutenant took the pipe, inhaled a quick puff, and handed it back to Moon Wolf.

“So it is,” said Moon Wolf. “I will tell you what I have learned, but only after you answer a question of mine.”

“What is this, you scoundrel? Do you think me an idiot? I have not agreed to share information with you, only to obtain yours—for whiskey. That is our agreement.”

Moon Wolf nodded, nonplused. Placing the pipe on his knees, he began, “There is another who has joined the Wolf Shadow.”

The lieutenant nodded. “We had suspected that after the last raid. Do you know who it is?”

“I have learned one thing.”

“What is that?”

“It is said that this Wolf Shadow and his companion now know who is behind the whiskey shipments and, instead of making more raids upon your bull and whiskey trains, they have become intent on hunting down the man who does this and then killing him.”

The lieutenant remained silent, Moon Wolf observing the man from beneath heavy eyelids.

Moon Wolf continued, “I have heard talk that they will not rest until they find him.”

“Ha, I'd like them to try to locate him here.”

With stoic indifference, Moon Wolf took note of the statement. He continued, “
Haiya
, but there are more than the one man they seek and they will hunt the others down, too, there where they live in Helena…those also in Fort Buford…and there on the white man's cattle ranch at Big Spring Creek.”

With seemingly unobservant eyes, Moon Wolf attended to every tiny fluctuation in the lieutenant's breathing. He took careful regard of each reaction, too, noting that the only significant response had been when Moon Wolf had mentioned Helena. At that time the lieutenant's breathing had become slightly labored, his skin tone changing from a pale yellow to a slight shade of red.

Obviously the men Moon Wolf sought were in Helena.

He continued, “The Wolf Shadow and his partner now know that these men they seek run the trading post.” No reaction from the lieutenant. “The place where the white man keeps his treasures.” Again no reaction. “And the place where the white men go to grab the Indian land.”

Minute muscle flicks leapt across the lieutenant's cheek, his skin tone changing once more to a dull red.

Aa
, thought Moon Wolf, the ones he sought had to do with the land and its disbursement.

He continued, “The Wolf Shadow also knows that one of their names is he who is one of your guards, Jake Berry.” Very little reaction. “Also he who deals out the land to the white men on the scraps of paper.” A bit more reaction in the lieutenant's face. “Know they too, that there are men in the far-off place in the east that control the land and the people here that seek to claim it.” A tiny tic fluctuated in the lieutenant's eye. “The bandits will seek these men out and expose them to the white man's government. It is what they intend to do before they kill these people and all those who associate with them.”

“Now, see here, Moon Wolf, I think your sources are misinformed.”

“Yet it is as I tell you.”

Behind Lieutenant Warrington's seemingly complacent facade, the pupils of his eyes dilated, darting from one object in the room to the next. Moon Wolf, however, met the man's stare straight on; the lieutenant, on the other hand, was barely able to hold Moon Wolf's gaze. The officer's voice appeared calm, however, as he observed, “You have done the right thing, Moon Wolf, in bringing me this information on the threat to our people. I thank you for that. But there is one thing you still have not obtained for me.”

Moon Wolf remained silent.

“I still do not know the identity of this man they call the Wolf Shadow.”

Moon Wolf nodded. “It is because he is more shadow or spirit than man. But I will keep searching.”

“Then,” said Lieutenant Warrington, “in this you have failed me yet again.”

“
Aa
, but I have given you much information this day. As you said, I have done well, yes?”

“No, you have not…not entirely. And I think it is time to put our association to an end. I grow tired of our skir
mishes and twisted talk. It is obvious that you cannot be the kind of spy that the military needs.”

Moon Wolf acknowledged the man with a nod. “So be it, lou-ten-tent.”

“What? No argument?” The lieutenant emitted a jeering laugh.

“None from this one,” Moon Wolf said, taking hold of his pipe and emptying the ashes on the floor. Then, placing the object back into his robe, he commented, “Our council is at an end, as is our alliance. I will arise now and do as you wish, never to return.”

Moon Wolf stood up, half of his attention on the lieutenant, half on the window at his right.
Aa
, there it was, the barrel of a gun, a partial view of a head, an eye. Suddenly Moon Wolf grabbed hold of the lieutenant, placing the officer between himself and the window.

It took Lieutenant Warrington several moments to appreciate what was happening before he screamed, “Don't shoot!”

But the request came too late. The shot was fired, straight into the lieutenant's arm, followed by another one from Moon Wolf, out the window.

A pained groan came from outside.

“Why you two-bit bastard,” the lieutenant spit out as he grabbed hold of his arm, rushing to the window and looking out. “You've shot me. You idiots. I'm surrounded by idiots.”

“Perhaps,” said Moon Wolf, having followed the lieutenant to the window, there to espy Jake Berry, sitting up and holding his arm, which bled profusely. “Perhaps there are more simpletons here than those that surround you.” And with this said, Moon Wolf grinned at the lieutenant, took hold of his arm, and jerked the man over to his desk, slamming him against it and stating, his face no more than a hairsbreadth away, “I think that you will live, Lieutenant,
as will your bully out there, although I believe it is more than the both of you deserve. Know you, that the Above Ones have seen your treachery in our council. You tried to trick me into an early death. Now, I will assure you that your treason will not be looked upon with favor, and I fear that great disaster will befall you. If you treasure your life at all, I would pray, Lieutenant Warrington…I would pray very hard.”

And with nothing more to be said, Moon Wolf let himself out of the house.

S
he hid beneath a bush in a low coulee, just outside their cave and below the waterfall, awaiting him. This sport of “hide and seek” was among her favorite of all their “games,” perhaps because it required the least amount of effort on her part.

All she had to do was find a good place to hide and wait for him to locate her—if he could. Actually, he always did, following her tracks as though he were part hound. Still, there were a few times when she had fooled him, and once it had taken him hours to find her. Her reward for her skill had been many pleasurable hours, spent in his arms, a circumstance which had repeated itself over and over.

She sighed. These last few weeks had been amongst the most enjoyable in her life. The days had been consumed with activity, as Moon Wolf had insisted she practice her skills; the evenings had been spent in one another's arms.

Never could she remember being happier or more at peace.

She was also pleased to observe that Moon Wolf no longer risked his life by making daylight raids into the fort. In truth, since that time, many weeks ago, when she had confessed the facts of her “engagement,” Moon Wolf had committed no raids at all. Instead, he spent his days tutoring her in the art of Indian resistance.

At first she had thought that he might renege on his promise to teach her the ways of a warrior, but his instruction had been thorough. She supposed that she had reckoned without comprehending the sense of honor possessed by the Native American. Once pledged, an Indian would do almost anything to keep his word.

And so he had trained her in the arts of plains warfare, teaching her little by little the ways of the prairie. She had mastered the ability to throw a lance through a hoop and to make a stick jump by throwing a long arrow at it. In addition, she could cast arrows quickly and accurately at a target, and she'd begun to learn the basics of the sign language that all the Indian tribes used.

Alas, at first her muscles had ached, since he had made her practice intensely, every day. But eventually, as her body had adjusted to the physical challenge, she had noticed her strength beginning to build.

“Animals made the first paths,” he had told her one day as he had taken her on an outing, pointing out different trails through the prairie. Up until then she realized, she had never been aware of them.

She had looked at him strangely. “How do you mean?”

He had pointed to the sky as they'd stomped across the plains that stretched out from their mountainside. “Watch the birds from one season to another as they make their journeys north and south,” he said. “Watch them carefully and observe that they appear to follow a path that neither you nor I can see.” He'd grinned at her and had taken her hand in his as he'd gone on to explain, “Even the fish in
the creeks and rivers follow a trail to their breeding beds. If one will observe them and carefully mark them from one year to another, he will see this.”

She had nodded. “I didn't know that.”

“It is an important fact to realize. Many of the paths that the red man and the white man walk were once animal trails. Animals are natural trailblazers, for it is they who make the best path toward water. Remember this if ever you lose your way on the prairie. Follow the path of the elk or the buffalo, for they will always lead you to water and to food.”

“I will remember,” she'd said, smiling at him.

“You must also learn to observe small things. Often one's life depends on it. Trails can become ‘blind,' meaning that they will lead into rocks or streams where it is difficult to follow, but if you can learn to observe little things, you can find your way. Once, when I was a little boy, I remember following a trail that abruptly ended. It was dark and I could not follow it any farther. It had been a good, worn path that suddenly ended in rocks. Bending down, however, I found that the soil had changed from one that was mostly sand to one that was clay. Observing this, I was able to find the path of sand over the rocks, though it was faint. Small things, remember that. One must be alert to the tiniest change, even to the birds that sing. If all is quiet, with neither the song of a bird or that of an animal, beware. An enemy is close by.”

And so it had gone, week after week, day after day, until a few days ago, when Moon Wolf had told her that they were soon to have an adventure.

“There is a whiskey shipment that is leaving the fort,” he had informed her. “It will be crossing over to Fort Whoop-Up. We will stop it from reaching the medicine line if we are able.”

She had nodded. “Do you think I'm ready?”

He'd smiled at her. “I know that you are. But come, we must make our plans, for that shipment will be well guarded.”

And so they had.

 

She heard the rustle of footsteps beside her…it had to be Moon Wolf, searching for her. Forcing herself to think of nothing, she sat still, barely daring to breathe.

The soft flicker of her hair against her back, a gentle graze of a finger across the nape of her neck alerted her to the fact that she had been found. She let out her breath.

“Seems to me,” she said on a sigh, “that you find me much too easily in these games of ours. I really am not providing you with ample chase, am I?”

A mere few steps brought him around her until he faced her. Squatting down, Moon Wolf reached out to comb his fingers through her hair, his attention seemingly caught on the way the auburn waves reflected the sun. He commented, “I think that you have led me on a terrific chase. Is it not true that I had to wait many years to make you my wife? And after I asked you so grandly—”

“I think that you are speaking of another pursuit, my husband. Is your attention not on our game of hide and seek?”

“Not on our game?” His tone practically dripped innocence as he continued, “With you here beside me, and nothing to do but bask in the sun and enjoy one another's company? How could my attention be distracted from our game?”

“I do not know,” she responded with amusement, reaching out a hand to trail a finger over the hard muscle of his buckskin-clad thigh. “But I fear you have other things on your mind besides my education.”

He bent to her, his face a scant fraction of an inch away from hers. “Other things?” he asked guilelessly, kissing her. “You must tell me what these things are, for I do not
know them.” He voiced the lie easily, kissing her yet again, his lips lingering over hers.

“Hmmm.” She opened her mouth to say more, but didn't have the chance to articulate a single word. He took immediate advantage and set upon her, his tongue invading her mouth. In sensual delight, she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him toward her and forgetting whatever it was she had been about to say. Nothing was more important than this.

He had taken off his shirt and placed it behind her, his shirt becoming her pillow, and she spared a moment to gaze up at him as he eased her onto the ground. The sun had caught the blue-black highlights in his straight, dark hair, making the locks shine like a midnight sky under a full moon. As he removed her blouse, one of those long locks, warm from the sun, caressed her bosom as though it, too, were alive and capable of loving her. He smelled of the mint leaves he had been chewing, of the earth, and of the clean mountain air. And she thought she had never witnessed anything more potent or more beautiful than this man, her husband.

How she loved him.

She made a delicate path down the bareness of his chest with one finger and had the pleasure of witnessing how the sudden arousal to passion changed the harshness of his features to the more muted qualities of desire. He drew in his breath and growled at her…gently.

Oh, how handsome he was. She felt her heart burst with the strength of her feeling.

“I love you, my husband,” she confessed and watched as a smile lit up his face, the gesture so full of tenderness for her that she glowed. Had she ever been this happy? Never, she answered her own question.

Oh, she thought again, how she loved this man of hers.

He removed her dress, her chemise, and her underthings
with care and set them aside, his gaze lingering over her with concentrated interest as he stood to remove his trousers.

“And I love you, my wife.” He then knelt before her, and she couldn't help but admire the look of him, the strength of his potency inspiring her to an even higher degree of longing…and loving. He added, leaning over her and tracing a finger down a path over her bosom, “There is only one thing I would ask of you, Little Brave Woman.”

She reached out a hand to caress his cheek and, adoration coloring her voice, she asked, “What is that?”

“Please,” he stopped, his throat working as though he were having difficulty swallowing. “Please remember me to our children.”

“Always, my husband,” she promised. “But I keep telling you, there will be little need, for you will be with me. This I know, my husband. This I know.”

He groaned, and, bringing his lips again to hers, kissed her over and over as though, while he might like to believe her, he still had his own doubts. At last, with a sigh, she made the overture to join her body to his, and with their bodies so intimately placed, she sealed her devotion to him with the strength of her knowledge.

And for a moment, perhaps a moment alone, she knew he believed her.

 

As she lay in the prairie grass, the sun bore down on her back, providing a welcome warmth against the chill of the early morning air. Close by her a bird sang, another answered, while an eagle flew high overhead. It was a good sign.

Next to her, Moon Wolf stretched out on a hill overlooking the whiskey trail. The pure scent of the earth and the grasses surrounded her, their clean fragrance a gentle
reminder of the task before them. Behind her a smokeless fire burned low to the ground, and she prayed that the wind would not betray their presence to the enemy.

Beside her, Moon Wolf was completely still, the wolf headdress and black paint hiding most of his features. Even his body bore the markings of paint, she noted. She reached out to touch him, to give him encouragement, her fingers coming away with the black, oily substance, which she rubbed on the grass.
Makoyi
lay to his other side, the animal every now and again getting up to sniff at the rocks.

Looking back toward the trail, she absentmindedly adjusted her own softer version of the wolf headdress and sank down as far as possible into the cover of the grass.

This was the path taken by the whiskey laden wagons, Moon Wolf had told her. Horses, not oxen, pulled these wagons and flew as fast as possible across the prairie and over the medicine line into Canada, thus avoiding any law-abiding citizen who might try to stop them. Few people knew of this route, the oxen-pulled schooners traveling the other, more direct, path into Canada.

Because those were filled with food, clothing, and other common trade items, they were rarely, if ever, raided. However, it was that route which the military heavily guarded.

The whiskey train must have felt secure on this afternoon, for the horses traveled at a walk, advancing slowly up an incline. That didn't upset Alys, however. The slower the vehicles, the easier the raid.

Moon Wolf glanced at her, signaling her to stay where she was, while he scooted backward, down the hill,
Makoyi
beside him. Reaching the ground at a place hidden from the four wagons, he turned and ran to another hill, one slightly ahead of the wagons.

He kept within eyesight of her, and soon, reaching the
place where he had decided to make his stand, he signalled her again.

On cue, she scooted back down, out of sight, to the campfire that Moon Wolf had built earlier in the morning. Taking a few bullets from the saddlebags she carried over her shoulder, she threw the slugs onto the fire. Turning, she ran as fast as she could toward another hill, one that would put her to the rear of the wagon train. She crouched behind a big boulder.

It didn't take long for the bullets to explode.

Down below, horses whinnied and reared at the sudden noise, trying desperately to bolt. But the scouts and drivers, by their very brawn, reined them in.

Soon a party of four men assembled. After some talk, they directed their mounts toward the place where the shots had been fired, leaving the drivers and the others with the freighters to keep control of the horses.

Into this confusion, Moon Wolf jumped, vaulting from rock to rock, each leap gaining him a better position, one closer to the train. At last, he was safely in range, with no one but Alys the wiser.

She, too, emerged from her hiding place and ran quickly to the next spot, according to plan. She was barely in position when
…Swish!

A firelit arrow from Moon Wolf's bow struck one of the wagons, followed by another arrow, two more, all in quick succession until all four wagons went up in flames. Panic ensued. The horses reared, fleeing in terror, their drivers no longer able to restrain them.

Shouting and screams to order could be heard, but it didn't matter. Chaos spread all around them.

“Water, water, form a line to water,” the command rang out over the prairie. A bugle sounded, while the four men from the posse rushed back to the train, each one springing from his mount and hurrying toward the emergency.

Under cover, Moon Wolf and his pet raced back up the rocks, darting up the hill, down again, until they could sprint toward the place where Alys waited, holding the horses in check.

“Hurry,” he cried out as he approached her, “soon the whiskey traders and the seizers will leave the wagons to come and find our trail.”

He jumped onto his mount and leading her horse, they rode to the highest hill, where, in plain view of the wagons, he let out his war cry. Their horses reared,
Makoyi
howled, and just as quickly they were gone, back down the hill, sending their mounts in a dash across the prairie, toward yet another safe refuge.