In the Season of the Sun (40 page)

“My horse is saddled. I won't be long.” Tom left Kilhenny in the corral and headed straight for Abigail's. All around him, men were checking their gear, arguing over horses, women, Indians, and the prospect of turning beaver pelts into gold. Men carried gunpowder and provisions to the wagons. It was like some scene more suited to a military expedition. Then again, that's just what it was. Kilhenny's army was marching off to war.

Abigail met Tom on the front porch. He took her by the arm and led her inside and there, ignoring Hiram's awkward presence, held her in a last embrace.

“Don't go,” Abigail pleaded. “Stay here with me. Bill Hanna's men will hold Fort Promise along with Captain Smead's crew of rowdies. I do not intend to allow Coyote Kilhenny back within the walls.” She kissed him.

Hiram cleared his throat and vanished down the hall, moving as quickly and discreetly as he could.

“I can't,” Tom said.

“You mean you won't.”

“I mean it's one and the same.”

Abigail stepped out of his arms, broke the circle of his embrace, and crossed the room to stand behind her brother's desk. Every step seemed to add to the aura of power and command, that unique quality absent in her brother.

“I am expecting my boats any day now. I don't think Kilhenny realizes, but his position is tenuous. When my people arrive, I shall no longer need him.”

“Or me?”

“I want you.” Abigail patted the wrinkles from the royal blue wool dress whose high-necked collar was trimmed with lace. She looked every inch a lady. Tom would have liked to rip a few of her buttons loose to free the wanton he knew lurked beneath that suddenly icy exterior. “I want you. But I don't need you.” She folded her hands upon the desk. “I intend to remain here, to build the settlement Nate and I envisioned.”

“Tall order for a woman.”

“Not this woman.”

He shrugged and started toward the door.

“Tom … what is it? You've changed. Something's happened, I don't know what. Ever since the Blackfeet captured you.” She leaned forward, her knuckles digging into the map spread on the desk top. Unable to resist him and against her better judgment, she held out her hands to him. “Let Kilhenny go.”

Tom considered the possibility. But, no, he had to make sure. He couldn't rely on blind luck to bring Kilhenny to justice. Tom's role was crucial to the success of the plan. He had to be certain the bait stayed with the trap.

“No.” He didn't try to elaborate; it would do no good and only muddy the waters further. Better to keep Abigail out of it and out of his plans.

“I'll be back,” he said and winked at her. For a moment Abigail saw the old Tom Milam, the man she loved, grinning at her behind his dark, glassy eyes.

Abigail might have run to him, held him back, and kept him at her side for always. But the desk with its map of a would-be kingdom blocked her path and kept her from him. Tom darted through the doorway and in a second was gone, and Abigail Harveson was left alone.

46

M
ore than a week of hard riding had taken a toll on Two Stars. His shoulders hunched forward, his head sagged, and it took real effort to keep from falling off his horse. Jacob and Tewa had been worried about the blind brave's health throughout the forced journey. So it was with a great sense of relief that they came to the pass leading to Medicine Lake and the Blackfoot village.

Jacob studied the pass with renewed interest now and noted how the gap between the east and west rims narrowed to form an avenue about a hundred yards in length but no more than fifty feet wide. The walls of the pass weren't cliffs, merely a line of steep hills whose forested summits overlooked the pass four hundred feet below.

Jacob searched the wooded hillside for the lookout that should be stationed back in the trees. He was relieved to see Otter Tail's familiar round figure emerge from hiding and gallop toward them at a breakneck pace down the grassy slope. A second rider appeared in the entrance to the pass, but when Jacob hailed him, the brave whirled his horse and vanished the way he had come, leaving a streamer of dust in his wake.

Otter Tail descended the hillside and gained the valley floor. He raced the remaining yards toward Jacob and the others. Otter Tail's brown mare arrived lathered and dust caked from her ordeal.

“Is my friend the only one to guard our village?” Jacob said, clapping Otter Tail on the shoulder.

The normally jovial brave shook his head, his war-painted features grim. “I kept watch for you, to warn you against entering the valley,” Otter Tail said. He gestured toward the pass with his rifle. Sunlight gleamed on the brass tacks decorating the stock. Otter Tail carried a war shield of buffalo hide, black raven feathers dangled from the bottom of its circular frame.

“Warn me?” Jacob glanced at Tewa who seemed equally surprised.

“You are not the first to return from the white man's settlement. Many braves have ridden in to tell our people of the deaths of so many of our elders and chiefs.”

“Then let there be gladness,” Tewa said and indicated her grandfather, wearily clinging to his mount. “Two Stars is back with his people.”

“We thought you might be captured like Lone Walker,” Otter Tail replied.

“Then my father lives?” Jacob gripped the smaller man's shoulder.

“One of the Kit Fox Clan pretended to be killed and watched the white trappers and the Shoshoni traitor bring Lone Walker into the fort.” Otter Tail again looked over his shoulder as if expecting an enemy. “Now you must go, my friend. Tewa and Two Stars ride with me to the village.”

Jacob frowned. “I don't understand. Why can't I return to my people?”

“Because white men have slaughtered our young warriors and our elders. Because Short Bow, father of Yellow Eagle, was killed with all the others. And he is filled with rage. Because your skin is white and he who was once your friend has sworn to take your life if you return.” Otter Tail shook his head and exhaled slowly.

“And all the people feel this way toward me?”

“No,” Otter Tail admitted. “But it will only take one bullet to kill you. Yellow Eagle's. Or will you kill another of your brothers as you did Wolf Lance?”

Jacob lowered his head. “No,” he said, knowing Otter Tail was trying to keep Jacob alive.

“There is wisdom in what Otter Tail says,” Tewa spoke out, fearing for Jacob's safety. “I will leave with you. Otter Tail can bring Two Stars back to the village.” Her grandfather raised his head, hearing his name mentioned.

“Yellow Eagle is hot tempered,” Two Stars said. “It makes him behave like a fool.”

“Then he is a fool who can shoot straight,” Otter Tail replied.

Jacob rubbed his eyes and the bridge of his nose. He shifted and stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his sore muscles. It was a sun-washed land. The earth yielded to the warm, amber rays of gold.

Yet even at noon, patches of gloom lurked below the lofty rims and shrouded the winding passes that waited beyond. The sun was never fully welcome here. And the valleys and canyons were always at war, forever caught, like the hearts of men, in that struggle between darkness and light.

This is my home, Jacob thought. I belong here for better or worse. He passed his rifle to Otter Tail and trotted away from the lookout who had come with his warning of danger.

“I don't understand,” Otter Tail said. “Will he fight to stay?”

“No.” Tewa watched Jacob ride into the pass. Her heart rose to her throat. She understood what Jacob intended to do. He would face Yellow Eagle unarmed and die if need be to prove his place among the warriors of Ever Shadow.

Medicine Lake seemed to capture a portion of the sky. Clouds, like schooners, drifted on an azure sea surrounded by an emerald shore. Smoke drifted from the Indian tepees circling the lake, dogs chased one another among the lodges, children played and wrestled, impervious to the mourning cries of the wives and mothers whose loved ones had failed to return from Fort Promise:

For ten years and more Jacob had ridden this same trail, had wound his way through the same pass. He rounded the last hillock and reined in his horse to behold in silent awe this loveliest of valleys ringed by its rugged hills reflected, like the sky, on the lake's mirrored surface. Before, he had always sensed welcome, even the first time when Lone Walker had brought him as a frightened foundling to find new life among the Blackfeet.

Now a group of warriors, he counted a couple of dozen, blocked his way to the village. Yellow Eagle waited among them, astride a pinto charger. He wore a buffalo hat, the horns painted black, and the left side of his face was smeared with black war paint lending a nightmarish cast to his appearance.

Jacob sensed Otter Tail, Two Stars, and Tewa drawing close behind him. Tewa wanted to be at his side but in her heart knew he must face Yellow Eagle alone.

Jacob turned toward them and handed Tewa his broadbladed knife. He pulled off his buckskin shirt and draped it across his horse. He looked at Tewa and tried to smile.

“Jacob Sun Gift,” she whispered.

“I am. Wait for me, Warrior Woman. And I will play my pipe outside the walls of your lodge and you will have to drive me away with your war lance.”

“I would break it first,” Tewa said, her lower lip trembling. She was angry with herself for displaying even the merest hint of weakness.

Jacob smiled and touched his heels to the big gray, and the animal started forward. It didn't take long to close the gap with the warriors blocking the well-worn trail into the village.

Jacob tensed as Yellow Eagle lifted his rifled musket and aimed it directly at the approaching horseman.

“No further, Jacob,” he said.

Jacob continued on directly down the trail, swerving neither right nor left.

“White men betrayed us. They have taken the lives of our young men. They have murdered our elders. Perhaps even Lone Walker by now has joined the Above Ones. The white men have done this. White men like you, Jacob.”

Jacob paused at least a spear's thrust from the men facing him. He recognized them all. Some had even ridden to Fort Promise and survived the trap.

“A Shoshoni led us into the trap. Red man and white betrayed us. The white trappers are led by a man named Kilhenny.” Jacob searched the impassive array of faces opposing him, hoping to read their intent. Each brave was armed with a rifle or long bow. Yet they seemed more onlookers than enemies. At least none of them rode forward to accuse him, only Yellow Eagle, who already had one grievance against the white men, his injured leg. Yellow Eagle cocked his rifle; the mechanism made an ominously loud noise.

“Kilhenny murdered my own parents long ago.” Jacob pressed on, wondering which word would be his last. “You say the white men are without honor. I say there are red men without honor as well. And there are men like you, Yellow Eagle, who have allowed their own pain to cause them to forget honor and turn against one who has been at their side on the hunt and in battle. Well, I have shed the blood of Wolf Lance. But I had no choice. Today, I do. I will not raise a hand against my brothers.” Jacob looked beyond the line of men. “I see my mother's lodge. I long to offer comfort to Sparrow Woman.” Jacob walked the gray a few paces forward until the barrel of Yellow Eagle's rifle was almost touching his sun-bronzed chest. Jacob's mouth felt as dry as glacial gravel, but he was beyond the point of no return. “If I am to die, then so be it. I will die here, among my people.
My
people.
My
home.”

He nudged the gray mare's flanks and the animal responded. For one brief moment, Jacob collided with the men. The iron rifle barrel dug into his flesh, then gave way. Yellow Eagle yielded. The warriors parted as Jacob Sun Gift passed through their midst and continued on to the lodge where Sparrow Woman, his Blackfoot mother, waited to embrace her son.

47

E
vening and April showers muted the landscape and blanketed the village beneath a canopy of layered clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but the downpour neither increased nor decreased in intensity. It droned on in a soothing monotony that calmed even Tewa's restless spirit.

She knelt before the cheerful fire ablaze in the center of her tepee and braided her hair by firelight. Earlier in the day, Tewa had watched with renewed appreciation as Jacob faced down the braves who had tried to keep him from entering the village. She had felt a twinge of jealousy as Jacob hugged Sparrow Woman and entered her lodge. Tewa had brought Two Stars to his own tepee, left him with Calling Dove, and then turned her mount to the wedding lodge on the hill overlooking the village.

It had been a cold, empty homecoming to her solitary bed and a lonely fire. At least she had put her father's ghost to rest and no longer had to dance to his demands from the grave. She was free now to hate or love whom she chose … free now to wait and watch and wonder if Jacob would follow the rain-washed path to her lodge.

She made a hasty meal of the antelope meat and fry bread that Calling Dove had insisted Tewa bring to her lodge. The past week had taken its toll on the warrior woman and, despite her own resolve, she crawled to her bedding. Peeling off her brushed-buckskin smock, she crawled naked beneath the buffalo robe she used for a covering. Tewa sighed and snuggled deeper into the blanket-covered willow rushes that cushioned her weary limbs. She listened to the spring shower and wished the patter of raindrops were Jacob's footsteps approaching her lodge. The night was young yet. She would remain awake and see.…

Music from a reed flute roused her. Tewa opened her eyes and looked about in confusion. Had she just nodded off? No, one look at the shimmering mound of embers where a fire had been told the woman she'd been asleep for hours.

Jacob Sun Gift sat across from her. He was wrapped in a blanket, his blond hair matted from his walk in the rain. His clothing had been spread out on the ground by the fire. He held a reed flute to his lips and softly piped a series of trilling notes. He held the hand-carved instrument for Tewa to examine the markings. A thunderbird and a morning star connected by a water symbol decorated the flute.