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Authors: Charles G. West

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BOOK: A Man Called Sunday
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Relieved that the spot he had picked to ford the river had been a good guess, Luke looked toward a line of ridges to the west. He was acting purely on instinct, because he could not predict what the Sioux party would do when the warrior returned to his camp. One thing he felt strongly about, however: He did not feel comfortable remaining where they were and trusting that the Indians would be content to leave them be. So he continued to lead the wagon toward the treeless ridges, searching for a cut or ravine that afforded sufficient cover to withstand an attack. There was little thought toward finding a place to hide, for the wagon tracks leading out of the river stood out in the bright moonlight as if it were midday. Time was short, so he urged David to hurry. There was bound to be a scouting party visiting their camp within a very short time, even if the Sioux meant them no harm.

Picking a narrow ravine at the base of a high ridge, Luke pulled up and waited for David to drive his wagon between the rocky walls. “Leave the wagon in the openin',” he instructed. “It'll give you a little protection to shoot behind. Unhitch the horses and lead 'em back to the end. We don't wanna take a chance on one of them gettin' hit.” David was quick to respond and when he had led the horses to safety, Luke led the paint back to join them. “We might be doin' all this for nothin', but it's better to be ready in case those Sioux decide to pick up a couple of horses and a wagon full of supplies.” The frightened couple stood wide-eyed, awaiting his every command. “David,” Luke continued, “get out that shotgun of yours and your pistol, and keep your eyes open.” He turned then to Mary Beth, who was busy wringing her hands in anguish. “Get that big ol' pistol you've been totin'. You think you can use it for anythin' besides shootin' me?”

She almost smiled when she recognized the barb for wearing the weapon during the first days of their journey. “I guess I can use it to shoot at Indians if I have to,” she answered, and went at once to her trunk to get it.

“You can watch David's back while he's watchin' the mouth of the ravine,” Luke said.

“What about you?” David asked. “Where are you gonna be?”

“I'm gonna climb up to the top of this ridge,” he replied. “I'll do us more good up there with my rifle, where I can see if they try to circle around behind us.” Unwilling to waste any more time, he pulled the Henry from his saddle sling and started climbing the side of the ravine. David and Mary Beth looked at each other anxiously, knowing he was doing what was best for their defense, but still reluctant to be left alone. It was only for a moment, however, and then they moved quickly to their posts, each resigned to do whatever was necessary to ensure the safety of the other.

With pistol in hand, Mary Beth took a position near the front of the wagon as David crawled up on the tailgate. He gave her a reassuring nod and she returned it with a determined smile. At that moment, she was proud of her husband—and proud of herself as well. They would show Luke Sunday that they would stand together against the savages.

Luke's instincts were not wrong, for he had barely had time enough to scale the ridge when he heard excited voices coming from the campsite he had just left. After a few moments more, he spotted the first of several warriors examining the wagon tracks at the edge of the river. After a short discussion, they spread out, joined by several others, and began a stealthy advance upon the ravine. There could be no mistaking it for a friendly visit, so Luke prepared to start picking apart their attack. Standing out in sharp relief on the moonlit prairie, the warriors offered inviting targets as they darted from one small hummock to the next, seeking the scant protection offered between the river and the line of ridges. When they were well within range of his rifle, Luke took aim at the foremost warrior and squeezed the trigger. The warrior threw up his arms and collapsed, causing the man next to him to stop abruptly. It was his mistake, because it gave Luke time to crank in another cartridge, and dispatch him with his partner. Without the advantage of Luke's lofty position, David and Mary Beth could only search frantically back and forth in front of them as Luke's rifle shots snapped over their heads, reducing the number of warriors by four. Expecting the Indians to suddenly appear at the mouth of the ravine, they could only wait and watch. In a few minutes time, however, the rifle fell silent, causing them more concern. There had been but two or three answering shots from their attackers. Could the silence mean that one of those shots had found Luke? A great sense of relief washed over them when they heard his voice.

“Don't shoot, I'm comin' down,” Luke said. Moments later, he appeared. “They figured it was costin' them too much to keep comin'. They might have had enough, figured they wouldn't risk anybody else gettin' shot. But you never know what they'll do—might decide they need to revenge the four they lost. Anyway, they ain't gonna be happy about it, so you'd best hitch up again, and we'll try to put some distance between us and them while they're decidin'.”

Luke's intention was to swing wide around the Sioux camp. Since the Indians had been traveling east to west, however, it would be necessary to make their circle to the east of the forks of the Powder and Little Powder. Otherwise, the Sioux would cross their wagon tracks as they headed north. So when they left the ravine, he led them south along the river for a mile before crossing back to the other side and circling back north once more.

The moon was riding lower in the sky by the time they made it back to strike the Powder again, some six or seven miles north of its fork with the Little Powder. There had been no sign of pursuit by the Sioux, for which they were all thankful, because David's horses were exhausted after such a short rest. Luke figured that there had not been many fighting men in the village after all, and his rifle had taken a greater toll than he had at first thought. “We couldn't have run any farther, anyway,” David declared. “My horses were plumb played out.” They made their camp on the Powder and remained there for the balance of the night. Early the following morning, Luke hurried them along. The horses needed more rest than the few hours allowed, but he thought it more important to push them farther. If the warriors decided to follow, they could be easily overtaken.

* * *

Angry Bull stood over the body of his brother, his fists clenched tightly, as he looked up at the sky to release his anguish in a low moan. He could not contain his grief and he dropped to his knees beside the body to cry out his vow for vengeance against the people who had killed his young brother. Close around him, others were wailing over the loss of the other three men killed in the ill-fated attack on the white man's wagon. Angry Bull remained on his knees even as the women of his small band took over the preparation of the bodies, as was the custom. Gray Bird, the old chief, came to try to console Angry Bull as the women carried his brother away, but there was nothing he could offer the grieving warrior that could replace his thirst for the white man's blood. “It is but one man,” Angry Bull cried out, certain that what he said was true. “It is the man with the rifle that Wind Walker saw in their camp. Wind Walker saw that the man had strong medicine. It must have been him who was shooting from the top of the ridge.”

“We must bury our dead,” Gray Bird said, “and mourn their loss.”

“No one will mourn more than I,” Angry Bull declared, “but I must not wait too long and let his killer escape.”

“The wagon cannot travel as fast as a man on a horse,” Gray Bird said. “And it leaves tracks easy to follow. I cannot tell you what is best for you to do, but I think you would have no trouble overtaking the wagon after the dead are prepared for their journey.”

It was not his preference, but Angry Bull deferred to the old chief's wisdom. The women dressed the bodies in their finest clothes, wrapped them in blankets, then sewed them up completely in buffalo hides. Since there were numerous suitable trees near the river, there were many limbs to choose from to build platforms to hold the bodies high enough to be out of the reach of coyotes and wolves. Angry Bull and some of the others slashed their arms and legs with their knives in mourning, and then finally the vengeful warrior could wait no longer. With his Spencer carbine in hand, he climbed on his war pony and asked which of his fellow warriors would ride with him. His friend Broken Glass stepped forward immediately, but there were no others. Insulted, Angry Bird was about to protest and shame them, but Gray Bird interrupted.

“Others wanted to ride with you,” he said, “but there are only a few warriors left to protect the women and children. I know this vengeance that eats away inside you must be satisfied, so go and listen to the voice that speaks only to you. The others must stay to protect the village.”

“There is wisdom in your words,” Angry Bull conceded. “Broken Glass and I are enough to kill one white man.” He looked at his friend for confirmation and received a solid nod in reply. Turning back to Gray Bird, he said, “We will be back before another sleep.” After taking one last look at the bodies lying in the tree limbs, the two warriors were off, to return to the site of the previous night's battle. As Gray Bird had predicted, the tracks of the wagon were easy to find and follow to the south.
You will be avenged this day, my brother
. The thought turned over and over in Angry Bull's mind as they loped along the west bank of the Little Powder.

* * *

By the time the sun was directly overhead, David's horses were weary to the point of exhaustion. Even Luke's paint was tired and Luke had dismounted and walked beside the horse. “If we keep going, they're gonna fall in their traces,” David called out to Luke. “I don't think those Indians are coming after us. We haven't seen hide nor hair of 'em all morning.”

“Maybe not,” Luke answered, but he could not be sure. He knew an Indian was like any other man. Some would seek revenge, no matter what. Others might yield to the superior firepower that he had demonstrated with his Henry rifle, and figure it wiser to restrict their losses to four. He hoped the latter was the prevailing disposition. There was no choice to be made, however. David was right. If they pushed the horses farther, they might kill them. “Over there,” he called out to David, “where the river bends around that stand of trees.” David nodded gratefully. “There's a little cover there,” Luke said, “and maybe we can see anybody tryin' to sneak up on us if we keep our eyes on our back trail.”

After the horses were watered and hobbled to graze, David and Luke sat down to eat the meat that Mary Beth had roasted over the fire. There had been little opportunity for sleep during the last two days, so Luke suggested that the two of them should take advantage of the time while the horses were rested. “I'll keep watch while you sleep.” They were too tired to protest after their harrowing experience of the previous night. Their gentle nerves were not toughened to life in the wild of the Powder River country. Like obedient children, the couple made their bed in the wagon and climbed in. Luke took his rifle and walked back up the bank to take a position under a cottonwood where he could see the way they had come.

The afternoon passed slowly by with still no sight of anyone trailing them. Still his exhausted traveling companions slept on. Since there was nothing moving on the expanse of prairie behind them, he decided to let them sleep past dusk. The horses would benefit and it would soon be dark enough so that their camp would be difficult to see.

He was in the process of rekindling the fire when Mary Beth climbed down from the wagon. “Here,” she said, “let me do that. Then I'll fix us something to eat.” She looked back in the wagon to chastise her husband. “Get up, sleepyhead. You're gonna sleep the night away.” Reluctantly, he roused himself out of his warm bed and came to join them. She handed him the coffeepot and said, “Here, fill this with water.”

“I've got to go to the bushes first,” David replied.

“I'll do it,” Luke volunteered, and took the pot from him. He was feeling the need for some sleep himself and wanted the coffee to overcome it.

The thought occurred to Mary Beth then and she voiced it. “You've been standing guard all afternoon while we slept. You must need some sleep, too.”

“I'll be all right,” he replied, “and we need to keep movin', travel at night until we get outta this part of the valley.”

She looked up at the sky and commented, “It looks like it's going to be another clear night. I don't see any clouds. I don't see why we couldn't wait for a couple of hours after supper before we start. You could get a couple of hours' sleep.”

He had to admit he was tempted. He was tired, and a short sleep would surely help his sense of vigilance. “Maybe,” he said, and left to fill the coffeepot.

The two men arrived back at the campfire at the same time and Mary Beth pointed out to her husband that Luke had had very little sleep in the last two nights. “I told him we could wait a couple of hours before starting out tonight, so he could rest a little.”

Her comment served to embarrass the stoic guide. “I don't need no sleep,” he protested, “and we need to keep movin' while the horses are rested.”

“Yes, but you're not,” David said. “Mary Beth is right. We can wait a couple of hours.” Seeing Luke's obvious reluctance, he insisted in a joking manner. “We're paying you to guide us to Coulson, and we need to have you alert enough to do the job.” Luke was about to protest again, but David said, “I'll stand guard while you sleep. You don't have to worry about being surprised by Indians.”

“There,” Mary Beth said, “nothing to worry about. David will stand guard.” She turned to give her husband a warm smile.

It was not easy for him to do, but after he had eaten, he gave in to their concern for his health and agreed to a brief rest, insisting that should he fall asleep, he be awakened in one hour, no more than that. He walked with David to position him at a good spot to watch their back trail. With that done, and settled in his blanket several yards beyond the wagon, he realized how much he needed sleep.

BOOK: A Man Called Sunday
11.46Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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