Silken Savage (23 page)

The sight that met her eyes set her heart beating wildly in her chest. Panther!!

There, high atop the cliff, sat a line of mounted warriors. Tanya’s sharp eyes picked out Snail, Towering Pine and Winter Bear; but lingered on Panther. Astride his big black stallion, he created an imposing figure, even at this distance.

An intense longing stabbed through her, and Tanya wanted desperately to be able to run to him, however impossible it was to scale the steep cliff. She knew immediately when he had spotted her, though it was impossible from this far to see his features. Holding Mark in her arms, she stationed Hunter in front of her. She wanted Panther to know his sons were alive.

All her movements were deliberate, but deceptively innocent to anyone else watching her. Slowly she eased the hood from her hair and displayed her tawny braids and the headband that circled her head. Crossing her arms over her chest, she touched the wristbands that symbolized her marriage.

Panther, watching from above, spotted Tanya almost immediately. Inwardly, he heaved a silent sigh of relief. All the way from the next village, he had nursed the impossible hope she had survived.

Kat had come bursting into the camp as he and Winter Bear had prepared to leave. The agitated cougar had howled and screamed as Panther had never seen him do before. A chill of disaster danced down his spine; he had followed the cat toward home.

They had met Shy Deer and the warriors halfway, and been told what was happening. Still, they had not been prepared to view such total destruction. It was immediately obvious that they were vastly outnumbered by the soldiers. Panther’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of their leading officer. Even from here he recognized the cocky stance of the yellowhaired General. He had met Gen. Custer at the treaty conferences at Pawnee Fork. He promised himself that someday he would see Custer pay for this massacre.

Panther saw Tanya rise and step forward. He felt her love reach out to him across the distance. Watching, he saw her shift the baby in her arms and place Hunter before her, and knew she was showing him they were well. Without a doubt, he knew she would see that they remained safe until he could rescue them. His heart swelled with pride as he watched her reveal her braids and headband and touch her wristbands. She was telling him she would wait faithfully for him to come to her. His heart heard her gestures as clearly as if she had spoken in his ear.

Solemnly, he returned the gesture, touching his own matching wristbands. To her he was saying, “You are my wife. I will come for you.”

Tanya saw Panther touch his wristbands as she had hers, and felt comforted. It was his promise to come for her, and it gave her new strength. Her stubborn jaw tilted out just a bit more as her head came proudly erect. Her spine stiffened and her eyes blazed with newfound courage. It was as if Panther were lending her his strength once again, as he had done the night of her branding. She had made him proud of her that night, and she would not fail him now. She was Cheyenne, and she would not whine and cry before the whites. She was a chief’s wife and she would behave as one. She was Little Wildcat, Panther’s woman, and they would not break her spirit so easily.

Fired by a new determination, Tanya spun about on her heel and strode through the ruins of the village. Leading Hunter by the hand, she pointed out the atrocities to the toddler, explaining in simple terms what had happened here. The youngster’s eyes were huge golden orbs in his solemn face as he listened to his mother’s softly spoken words. His small hand trembled in hers, but his steps did not falter. He seemed to understand when his mother told him he must be brave and make his father proud.

Along the way, they came across Ugly Otter’s mutilated body. A quiet look of satisfaction passed between Tanya and Melissa. They had already noted that Ugly Otter’s wife was among the captives being held by the soldiers. Of all the deaths, Ugly Otter’s was the only one Tanya could not bring herself to regret.

At the river’s edge, Tanya stopped beside the bodies of Black Kettle and Woman-To-Be-Hereafter. Here she turned and sought out Panther’s figure on the bluff.

The warriors were now taunting the soldiers below them, shouting insults and making crude gestures. Tanya recognized it as a ploy to lure some of them up to the bluff, hopefully in numbers the Cheyenne could easily deal with.

When Tanya was sure she had Panther’s attention, she drew her knife. Before anyone could stop her, she whacked off her long tawny braids, placing one on each of the bodies of her parents and securing them in their headbands.

Tanya’s guard stepped forward to stop her, but Kit snarled a warning at him and he stayed back.

From each of her children, Tanya cut a small lock of hair and added it to hers on the bodies of their grandparents, quietly explaining to Hunter as she did so. In this manner, she told Panther of Black Kettle’s death. Then, much to her guard’s surprise, she pulled up her sleeves and made long, shallow gashes along each of her forearms, letting her blood fall to mix with that of her parents.

As she reached for Hunter’s arm, the man started forward again, with an exclamation. This time Melissa stopped him, a hand on his arm. “Let her be.” she told him firmly.

Tanya ignored them both. With her knife, she barely scratched Hunter’s arms with the point; just enough to make them bleed, and did the same with Mark. Hunter flinched once, and the baby’s face puckered, but neither cried.

Softly, Tanya began the chant for the dead. From a short distance behind her, where the Cheyenne captives had been gathered, she heard more voices add their songs of grief to hers.

“What the hell is going on here?” From the corner of her eye, Tanya saw Jeffrey and the lanky blond general approaching with long strides. The general’s face was a mask of fury, and Jeffrey didn’t look at all pleased himself. Ignoring them, Tanya went on with the ritual.

“Tell that woman to stop her caterwauling!” the general commanded. “Her wails could wake the dead!”

Melissa drew her petite form to its full height and stepped in front of him. “That’s the obvious idea,” she stated firmly, her hands on her hips. “It’s a sort of funeral dirge to usher the dead on the proper road to heaven. You have slaughtered nearly the entire population of this village and killed this woman’s parents. Now you want to restrict her grief and prevent her from performing traditional ceremonies.” Melissa jabbed one slim finger directly into the general’s chest and her voice rose. “I’m here to tell you to let her be! Enough is enough!”

Shock registered on the general’s face at Melissa’s outrage, and his eyes nearly popped. “Here now, little lady!” he blustered. “Who are you to be giving orders to me?”

Melissa stood her ground. “I’m her friend, and I’m not one of your flunky soldiers, so don’t try giving orders to me!” she shouted back.

The general’s face mottled red. With a long look at Tanya, who was carrying on as if no one was near, he argued, “You can’t tell me these two were her parents, girl. I’m not blind! This woman is as white as I am.”

“I wouldn’t bet my life on that!” Melissa muttered under her breath.

Jeffrey took this opportunity to speak up. “I know this woman, General Custer. Both her parents are waiting for her back in Pueblo. Her name is Tanya Martin, and she and four other ladies were captured two and a half years ago near Fort Lyon. Lord only knows what they had to endure, but Tanya is not herself now.”

Custer glared at this young lieutenant. “Whose children are these?” he demanded.

Jeffrey nearly choked on his words. “I’ve been told they’re hers,” he answered.

“Is this true?” General Custer directed his question to Melissa.

Melissa met his look defiantly, “Yes, they’re hers.”

“Some young buck took a shine to her, I gather,” Custer sneered.

“Correction,” Melissa countered, staring holes into him. “Some young chief took her for his wife, and these two wonderful people adopted her as their daughter.” Melissa gestured to Black Kettle and his wife.

Custer looked down his nose at her. “You seem to think highly of these red devils,” he challenged.

“Not all of them,” Melissa corrected, remembering Ugly Otter and his wife, “but in all the time I’ve been a captive here, I’ve never seen them perform such atrocities as you and your men have here today. Tanya was right when she said you were more a savage than any Cheyenne. Civilization doesn’t come with fine china and woven clothes, but from a decent, moral heart.”

Finished now with her ceremony, Tanya turned to face the general. Her golden eyes full of scorn, she let her gaze travel over him from head to toe, not bothering to cover her distaste for what she saw. Deliberately, she spat upon his boots, and with her head held high, brushed past him, exaggerating her care not to touch his contaminated body. Kit brought up the rear guard, her tail lashing, her obvious disdain matching that of her mistress.

“Son of a bitch!” Custer swore angrily.

Jeffrey, now embarrassed to the extreme, intervened. “Sir, please try to understand what they must have gone through. These savages must have brainwashed them. Somehow. Tanya was such a sweet young thing before. I can’t believe the change in her! Once she is safely back in the loving care of her family, I’m sure she’ll come out of this.” His face registered some of the doubt. “At least I hope so.”

“All right, Lieutenant, you’ve made your point,” Custer conceded gruffly. “Just keep those two hellcats out of my hair until I can get them off my hands for good. I don’t take kindly to being spit on.”

He strode off again, barely hearing Jeffrey’s relieved. “Yes, sir.”

General Custer had worse problems than Tanya to deal with just now. The warriors were still raising hell on the cliff, and now that idiot Major Elliot and seventeen men under his command had gone chasing after a handful of women and children who were trying to reach the braves. These few Cheyenne had hidden around a bend in the river and were now making their way slowly but gradually through the icy water and around the steep banks to where the warriors were. Several Cheyenne braves had been sent to meet them, and Major Elliot had decided to cut them off.

“Shall we send some men after them, General?” another major asked. “They may be walking into a trap.”

“It’s their own damn fault if they do.” Custer snapped. “I didn’t ask the fool to go chasing up there like some hero. I want to get organized and well out of here before nightfall. We can’t afford to let our supply train come blustering into the area. We’ve got to meet them far enough away from here that those redskins don’t have any idea of its existence. They’d just love to find that scarcely defended supply train and make off with all our food and ammunition.”

Tanya and the others watched as three of the braves reached the small party of women and children, hauling them up out of the icy water and onto the rocks. It was hard to tell from this distance, but one of the women resembled Walks-Like-A-Duck, and another looked like Magpie carrying her youngest son. Tanya had not come across any bodies she’d thought to be either woman, and she hoped they would both reach safety. Their rescuers were helping them up the steep inclines to higher ground now, and soon they disappeared from sight behind rocks.

A few minutes later, distant gunfire could be heard from beyond that area. A quick review of the cliff told Tanya that Panther was not there. Winter Bear was still in sight, but Panther, Towering Pine, and several others were gone. It was Tanya’s guess they had gone to engage Major Elliot’s troop in combat.

For several minutes the gunfire sounded, and then all was ominously silent. Tanya watched and waited apprehensively, but Panther and his braves did not reappear on the bluff. After a while Winter Bear and the others left also. Major Elliot never did return, nor did any of his seventeen men.

Tanya settled herself and tended to her sons. A young soldier brought them food. As much as Tanya wanted to throw it in his face, she realized she needed to keep up her strength; to keep her milk flowing for Mark.

Melissa fed Hunter while Tanya breastfed the baby. Jeffrey stopped to check on them, and Tanya noted the revulsion on his face as he saw the child at her breast. She stared hard at him, silently daring him to comment, and he walked off without a word.

Tanya ate what she could and gave the rest to Kit, who would not leave her side to hunt for herself.

Tanya watched with murder in her heart as the only remaining tipi was dismantled and carried off. General Custer had commandeered Chief Black Kettle’s tipi as a personal memento of his victory. He caught Tanya’s hate-filled look and seemed to gloat.

In turn, she gave him a look that promised to even the score someday. Her look said, “I am patient; I can wait. My revenge will come someday, and I will see you pay for all of this.”

Perhaps he had felt a bit intimidated by her, for later, when he ordered all the Indian ponies shot, he let her pick Wheat out of the herd first. Tanya didn’t bother to thank him for letting her have her own horse. For two hours she simmered as Custer’s troops systematically destroyed each of the Cheyenne’s pain-stakingly-trained mounts. Hate built its hard shell securely about her heart, and only Panther’s return would break through it.

IT WAS late afternoon when the troops moved out. Major Elliot and his men still had not returned, and no one had been sent to find out what had happened to them. In all, if Elliot and his men were dead, twenty-two soldiers had been killed. A quick tabulation accounted for one hundred and three Cheyenne dead; sixty of these were warriors, the rest women and children. Fifty-three prisoners, mostly women and children and a few elderly Cheyenne men, were taken along on the trip back. This was in addition to the four white women and Tanya’s sons. Black Kettle’s white slave had been killed in the onslaught; shot in the head by one of her would-be rescuers. Little was said of this of course, as none of the soldiers wished to claim responsibility for her death, accidental though it may have been.

The return trip to Camp Supply was made in four days of hard, forced marching. The terrain was rough as it was, and made nearly impassable by bitter winds, icy temperatures and deep drifts of snow. They met up with the supply train about twelve miles out, and camped a couple of miles further on.