Savage Beloved (2 page)

My Warrior

His eyes so dark,
like the midnight sky,
would make any woman
want to die.
His hair is long and black,
and flows in waves
down his back,
his skin is copper
like the sky in autumn.
And his heart and mind . . .
so sweet and tender.
And he and his people
will never surrender.

—Crystal Marie Carpenter,
a fan and friend

There’s heaven above, and night by night,
I look right through its gorgeous roof;

No suns and moons though e’er so bright,
Avail to stop me; splendor-proof.
—Robert Browning

Kansas, l849

A slow fire burned in the fire pit of the large, cone-shaped council house, the smoke spiraling slowly upward through the smoke hole overhead. Two Eagles, a young chief of twenty-five winters, of the Eagle band of the Wichita tribe, sat in council with his warriors, making plans to go help his ailing uncle Short Robe escape from Fort Hope.

As his warriors obediently watched and listened, it was evident that their chief would tower in height over most of his band, as well as his enemies.

His bronzed, muscled body was clad today in only a breechclout. His face was sculpted, with a
small slash of a scar beneath his lower lip. He had flashing dark eyes, and his long, sleek, black hair hung down to his waist.

Today he wore a beaded headband that held his hair in place; a lone eagle feather was hanging from a coil of his hair, at one side.

He sat comfortably on a thick cougar pelt.

“My warriors, as you know, several days ago my uncle Short Robe was abducted while praying alone at his private place of prayer,” he said tightly. His dark eyes glittered at his warriors, who were sitting cross-legged before him.

Two Eagles was attuned to all emotions around him. As a person of solitude may sense the feelings of others without their speaking, Two Eagles sensed his world, like the deer that lifts its head quickly from feeding on rich grass, sensing the invisible approach of danger from warnings that come clear and sharp as a clap of thunder.

“Only a short while ago did I discover who took my uncle, and why,” Two Eagles continued. “Our scout, Gray Wing, came to me with the sad news that it was pony soldiers who wrongly took my uncle.”

He paused as gasps of horror filled the council house, now that everyone finally knew the truth of Short Robe’s disappearance.

“
Ho
, yes, it is with much sadness that I report this to you today,” Two Eagles said solemnly. “The pony soldiers thought they were stealing away my father, our chief, for his brother looked so much like him. But in reality, my father, Chief Moon Thunder, was dying. Now that he has been buried, it is my plan to
attack the fort today and bring my elderly uncle back to his home.”

The Wichita did not choose a chief through heredity alone. A chief’s son must show not only marked ability to lead, but must also win the love and respect of all members of his band by acts of generosity and kindness. Two Eagles had done both during his father’s time as chief.

It had not taken a second thought for the band to accept Two Eagles as their chief upon the death of his father.

A shout from outside the large tepee now caused Two Eagles to look quickly toward the closed entrance flap.

He stiffened when the person shouted that a small contingent of pony soldiers had been seen approaching in the distance. And someone was walking behind them, being led by a rope.

Two Eagles leapt to his feet and hurried outside to see his sentry, Running Wolf, dismounting from his steed a few feet away.

“My chief,” Running Wolf said breathlessly. “Pony soldiers from Fort Hope are approaching. Short Robe is with them. He is shackled and being led by a rope behind the soldiers. But we cannot attack them in order to rescue your uncle, for there are many more soldiers visible along the horizon, watching and waiting to see if you and our warriors will start a fight.”

Two Eagles’s heart raced, for it was hard to imagine his uncle being treated so inhumanely. Yet for now, Two Eagles could not do anything about it. The
pony soldiers were apparently just waiting for him to make the wrong move, so they would have an excuse to attack his village and kill everyone.

He kneaded his brow, puzzled as to why the soldiers were returning his uncle at all.

There could be only one reason: Surely they hoped to antagonize Two Eagles into a fight.

So he must keep control of his anger until his uncle was safely home. Afterward, those at Fort Hope would be sorry for having done his people wrong. Up until now, to protect his people from attack by the pony soldiers, Two Eagles had practiced restraint, as had his chieftain father.

But this was too much.

The white eyes had gone too far!

They must pay. And . . . they . . . would.

In the meantime, Two Eagles was relieved to know that his uncle was still alive, for he had been afraid that once the soldiers discovered their error, they would kill him. They had already dishonored another Wichita band by beheading their chief . . . Chief Night Horse, whose son Proud Wind was now chief. Proud Wind was also Two Eagles’s best friend.

Two Eagles smiled when he recalled the day he had received the scar beneath his lower lip . . . on a youthful outing with Proud Wind.

It was Two Eagles’s deep desire to help Proud Wind by attacking the fort, for there was something there he wanted to rescue for his friend: the head of Proud Wind’s beloved father. He had been told this grisly trophy was kept in a jar in Colonel Creighton’s study.

Ho
, yes, it had been his plan to attack the fort, and soon. It would be easier to overwhelm the fort now that only a few soldiers remained. The others had left Fort Hope for their new post in Arizona.

But now things had changed, and Two Eagles wondered why the white eyes would return his uncle to the village.

Was it a trick?

Were they bringing his uncle back, only to kill him in front of his people? Would they then kill everyone else?

Thinking of this possibility, Two Eagles hurried back inside the council house. He quickly explained about his uncle being brought home, and how.

“I am glad my uncle is alive and is almost home, but there is much about this occurrence that does not seem right,” he said tightly. “I believe it is being done for only one reason . . . to trick us. The pony soldiers might be planning a massacre of our people after releasing my uncle to us.
Looah,
go! My warriors, hurry to your lodges. Stay there. Arm yourselves well and be ready to fight if an attack is launched against our people.”

“And what of you?” Gray Bear asked, rising quickly along with the others.

“I, alone, will stand openly as I await my uncle’s return,” Two Eagles said thickly. “I will leave my weapons in my lodge so that it will look as though I am no threat to the pony soldiers. I do not want to do anything that might antagonize those who are bringing my uncle back. It is still possible that no attack is planned against our Wichita people.”

“But you will be vulnerable without a weapon,” said another warrior, who loved his chief so much he did not wish to see him take such a chance.

“For my uncle I must do this,” Two Eagles said. “For our
people
I must do this. The pony soldiers speak too often with forked tongues. Today, who is to say what their true purpose may be?
Ho
, I will feel naked without a weapon, but I have no other choice but to act so.”

He nodded toward the entrance flap. “
Looah
, go, quickly,” he said. “
Wissgutts
, go home. You must be in your own personal lodges before the pony soldiers get close enough to see you go there. They must be the ones who are surprised if they try anything against us.”

His warriors nodded almost in unison, then left the council house at a run.

Two Eagles removed the knife that was sheathed at his waist, the only weapon he had with him during council. His lethal arrows and his great, strong bow were in his personal lodge, as were his rifle and ammunition.

With pride in his steps, his chin held high, Two Eagles left the council house and walked to the edge of the village. He would be the first person the soldiers saw when they got close enough to identify people.

He stood straight and tall beneath the burning rays of the sun. The day was unusually hot for this time of year. Normally the temperature was mild enough so that fires were left burning day and night.

Two Eagles wondered if the pony soldiers had deliberately chosen this stifling day to bring his uncle
home, perhaps thinking he would not survive the journey.

But they did not know the constitution of such a man as his uncle. Short Robe was brave and strong, a warrior who would bear much to prove that he could withstand anything the white men chose to do to him.

Two Eagles kept his eyes directed straight ahead, aware now of the muffled sound of horses’ hooves striking thick prairie grass as they came closer and closer to the village.

Ah, but Two Eagles did feel naked without a weapon to defend himself. Still, he knew that what he was doing was right. He would do nothing to antagonize the soldiers who were bringing his uncle back.

As he stood there gazing out at the land, he felt so proud of his people . . . of his village, which was surrounded by fields of corn, beans, squash, and other plants the women had lovingly planted.

Two Eagles loved the high, rolling prairie and the sandy river bottoms and banks that were a part of his people’s land. Clusters of scrub oak with heavier timber of elm, cottonwood, and willow stood along the water courses.

The Great Spirit,
Tirawahut
, had been good to the Eagle band of Wichita. Their crops had grown well, and there was plenty to feed their people.

As Two Eagles continued to wait and watch, his heart pounded with worry over whether his uncle was alright.

Short Robe was Two Eagles’s only remaining
blood kin. All the others had been killed by whites, or by their enemy the Sioux, or had died of natural causes.

His mother and sister had been killed together while working in the cornfields. They had been alone that day, instead of with the usual larger group that kept the women safe.

Two Eagles knew not who was responsible.

And then there was his cousin Spotted Bear, whom he missed terribly. He had died one day a summer ago in a skirmish with the Sioux.

When Two Eagles had heard about the fateful ambush of Spotted Bear and his warriors, and that Spotted Bear had died, he had gone to retrieve Spotted Bear’s body for burial, but to no avail. No body had been found, yet the bloody ground attested to his death.

Two Eagles could only conclude that his killers had taken his body, perhaps to mutilate it.

It saddened him to think of such a thing happening to such a proud warrior . . . his cousin!

He had searched far and wide for that Sioux camp, but they had disappeared into the wind, and had never been heard of again.

Two Eagles had prayed often for his cousin’s spirit, hoping that it returned often to be among his people, even though his body was far away.

The hatred Two Eagles felt for the white eyes ran deep. The white eyes were killing hordes of buffalo as a way to discourage the Wichita from staying on the plains, where the buffalo had once been so plentiful.

Of course the Wichita hated to see such waste, but they no longer depended solely on the buffalo hunt as they had in the past. They ate other meats hunted by their warriors, and enjoyed the good fruits of their labor in their gardens.

Ho
, the United States government had thought that once the buffalo went, so would the Wichita, saying that with the buffalo disappearing, in time there would also be no more red men.

But it was Two Eagles’s father who had boldly told the uniformed spokesman for the United States government that the Wichita did not always give the Great Spirit meat and he still favored the Wichita!

Two Eagles’s spine stiffened as he caught his first sight of a dozen bluecoats on horses. The animals snorted and blew their nostrils as they were made to ride onward in the blistering heat. Their riders must surely see Two Eagles alone and waiting for them at the edge of the village.

And then Two Eagles’s heart cried out within his chest as he caught his first sight of his uncle. He was being led by a rope looped about his neck as though he were an animal.

Two Eagles clenched his hands into tight fists at his sides when he saw how his uncle was being forced to jog, not walk. The leg irons that shackled him hit his ankle bones with each of his movements, and his hands were bound with chains.

Straight as an arrow, Two Eagles still stood there, even though he longed to run and help his uncle, who seemed unable to go much farther.

But Two Eagles knew that if he went beyond
where he stood now, he might goad the soldiers into killing his uncle or Two Eagles, himself. They might then swarm into the village like mad hornets and kill everyone else.

So Two Eagles continued to stand there, watching and waiting, as the group came closer and closer. When his uncle was close enough for Two Eagles to see him fully, the numbness of the shock he was feeling became a hot rage. His uncle’s bare feet were bloody, with flies and gnats buzzing around them.

Two Eagles fought off the nausea that came with seeing his beloved uncle being so mistreated, as though he were less than human.

Two Eagles’s body became even more rigid as the pony soldiers stopped only a few feet away. Short Robe’s gaze locked with his nephew’s.

Two Eagles could tell that his uncle’s will to survive until he was reunited with his people might be all that had kept him alive. One of the soldiers dismounted and lifted the rope from around Short Robe’s neck, then slapped him with it across the buttocks before remounting his horse. His uncle stumbled and fell to the ground at Two Eagles’s feet.

That was when Two Eagles saw his uncle’s back and the deep, bloody scars that must have been made by the lash of a blacksnake whip.