Song Of The Warrior (29 page)

Bear came looking for her. “Are you all right?”

She had washed her mouth and splashed cold water on her face. “I think maybe the fish was tainted.” She looked up at him anxiously. “Are you all right?”

He nodded. “I feel fine and I suppose Raven does, too; he's up and helping round up the horses.”

“Well, maybe it was just the piece I ate.” Willow shrugged and returned to roll up her blankets.

“You don't look very well,” he said and his face showed his concern.

“It has been a terrible trip for everyone.” Willow sighed. “We all need food and rest. I'll be all right when we get to Canada.”

“If you say so, my green-eyed one.” He began to take down her shelter. “We have a long way to go today.”

She nodded and gathered up the few possessions to lay on their travois. “I'm not sure the old grandmother will make it.”

“The old ones who fell along the way . . .”

“Yes?”

“The Bannock and the Shoshoni scouts killed and scalped them.”

“It isn't fair!” She was angry now.

“Life isn't always fair,” Bear said, “we take it as it comes and hope for the best.”

“I know.” She was suddenly ashamed at her emotional outburst. Many of these people, especially the wounded and those who had had relatives killed along this march were in much worse shape than she was.

Raven rode up just then and she noticed he was careful not to look at her as he hailed Bear. The two brothers slapped each other on the back, grinning; genuinely fond of each other. There was probably no bond closer than that of brothers, she thought. She must protect that friendship with her silence forever.

The band doused their small fires and were on the march by dawn, heading north. The wounded, on their travois were bravely silent as they bumped along across the rough terrain. If only General Howard and his slow-moving troops stayed behind them as they had so far, the Nez Perce might make it to the border, Willow thought. That slim hope was what kept all of them going.

 

 

In the next few days, the Indians eluded the army who had followed them up the Clark Fork River and out of Yellowstone as August turned into September.

Their scouts kept an eye on the troop movement and reported with much good humor that yes, old One-Arm and Colonel Sturgis had finally linked up. However, with all their cannons and pack trains, the army had fallen even farther behind; some fifty miles. The Ne-mee-poo laughingly called Howard “General Day After Tomorrow” because his troops were lagging so far behind. There was dancing in the Nez Perce camp that night over the news. At this rate, they would certainly stay ahead of the soldiers and make it all the way to Canada.

Many mornings, Willow was sick and she hid the fact, not even wanting to think about the reasons. There was certainly a lot to think about besides herself; the warriors were hard-pressed to find enough game in the area and there wasn't time for a lengthy hunt. Many of the horses were worn out and sometimes, the band had to eat the ones that went lame.

There were also people who could journey no farther, and either died along the way or had to be left beside the trail with vague promises of catching up later, but most were never seen again. No one dared think what the savage enemy scouts were doing to them when they found them.

The Nez Perce warriors raided passing ranches for horses and supplies, Bear and Raven often leading the war party. Bear was proud of Raven's newfound status, it shone in his eyes. Willow continued to teach the children because it made things seem normal when nothing was normal anymore. Many mornings, she didn't feel like moving, but she forced herself to because others were in much worse shape.

As the days passed and the Nez Perce kept up their relentless movement toward the north, more wounded, babies and old ones died, but Willow now had a new worry; something she didn't even want to think about.

Many mornings, she felt so sick and queasy, she hid and vomited. She told herself it was because others were sick or the water was bad, but deep in her heart, she knew that wasn't the real reason.

Bear found her this way one morning, lifted her and carried her tenderly back to their camp. “Today, you ride the travois.”

She shook her head. “No, I'll be all right, we'll have to leave some supplies behind if I do that.”

“Hush, you will do as I say!” As badly as she felt, it was reassuring just to lie there a long moment and do as he ordered.

There was no longer any question in her mind what her problem was; she simply had not wanted to face it. It was perhaps only justice that she wouldn't be able to keep her dishonorable secret safe.

Willow was expecting a child; Raven's child.

 

 

It was enough to make a religious man curse, General Howard thought as he faced Colonel Sturgis in their camp. “September, and we aren't catching up to them; we're falling farther behind!” He paused in his pacing. “Fifty miles ahead of us now. The whole country is making jokes at our expense!”

“Sir, it's your cannon and supply train that's slowing our pace,” the colonel suggested. “Have you thought about me taking my cavalry and moving ahead; seeing if we can catch up to them while you follow?”

“Good idea.” Howard pulled at his beard. “Still, there's a chance they might beat you to the border since their scouts are watching our every move.”

“We can't help that, Oliver.” Sturgis shrugged.

“I think I'm going to take a chance on outsmarting that wily old fox, Joseph,” Howard mused. “Even though I have to admire him, I just can't allow the Nez Perce to escape to Canada.”

“My cavalry can only move so fast.”

“Colonel Miles is up at Fort Keogh,” Howard thought aloud. “If he gets his troops moving right away and heads northwest, he might cut them off.”

Sturgis shook his head. “He'll still have a long way to go. If Miles gets there at all, it will be just as the Nez Perce cross the border.”

“Yes, but he'll have fresh troops and horses and the Nez Perce won't know he's coming.” Howard paused and looked at the other officer. “You are going to ride ahead with your cavalry, Sturgis. If you can delay the Nez Perce a little along the way, Miles may have enough time to intercept them.”

Sturgis paused and chewed his lip.

“What's the matter?”

“They've put up such a brave fight, almost fifteen hundred miles,” he said, “I wouldn't mind if they made it across the border.”

“You lost a son at the little Big Horn.” Howard stared at him. “I wouldn't expect you to be sympathetic to Indians.”

“I know, but they've fought so hard, against such overwhelming odds, and died so bravely.”

“So did the Rebels.” Howard turned away and for a long moment, he thought of all the brave dead boys in gray uniforms. “It isn't our decision, Sturgis. We are soldiers and we have our duty and our orders.”

“I know.”

Howard looked heavenward a long moment. “I just do my duty as a soldier and hope God understands. Sometimes, I don't even know which is the right and the wrong side anymore. We've got thousands of soldiers pursuing a few hundred ragged, hungry Indians; most of them women and old ones. I feel like Pharaoh chasing the children of Israel.”

“Except there's no Red Sea to save them.”

“No, poor devils.” Howard stared into the distance. “And if they make it, it'll cost us both our careers.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Sturgis straightened his shoulders. “I'll get my cavalry mounted.”

“Good.” Howard was all business again. “We'll catch up with you somewhere up ahead. Good luck.” He held out his one hand and they shook awkwardly. “Now get me a fast horse and a courier. That Lieutenant Warton has caught up with us; he'll do. I've got to get a message to Colonel Miles!”

Willow was not sure how the Nez Perce could keep moving, but they were forced to. Their scouts brought word that now only the colonel called Sturgis and his cavalry seemed to be pursuing them and moving faster than before. On September 13, at Canyon Creek, on the west side of Yellowstone Park, not far from the town of Billings, he chased the Nez Perce into the canyon. Again, a few warriors with rifles held his troops at bay for a few hours while the Nez Perce escaped. This time, Bear and Raven fought side by side and rode back smiling at the trick they had played on the soldiers.

“Thank goodness!” Willow ran to meet them when the pair caught up. “I was afraid something had happened to you both.”

“With a warrior like this one by my side,” Bear nodded toward the proud Raven as they dismounted, “I could hold off the whole army.” He swung her up in his arms, “and with a woman like you waiting for me, nothing could keep me from returning!”

She looked over at Raven's troubled face and took a deep breath, wondering when and how she would tell the man she loved she was expecting his brother's child. Should she even consider letting him think he had fathered it that one last time they made love as the uprising began? The birth time would be wrong, yet he loved her enough to believe her. Willow had tortured herself for days with this dilemma. It would hurt Bear so much, and yet, it wasn't in her to lie to the man she loved.

Bear must have misunderstood her silence. “We are going to make it; don't worry,” he assured her with an encouraging smile as he lifted her to her horse again and they headed north. “We have much to live for.”

Willow only nodded, and didn't look at either of them; grateful they were both still alive. Sooner or later, the two brothers would realize she carried a child and what would she say? Sometimes in the days that passed, she sat and held her novel when she couldn't sleep. In books, everyone was so honorable and everything worked out. Why couldn't real life have endings that were noble and right?

Even as the straggling little group moved north, they were followed and attacked now by Indian enemies. Howard's Bannock scouts had hurried their pace and linked up with the Crow scouts of Sturgis. Eager for scalps and loot, these Indians were ranging ahead of the soldiers to make sudden raids on the Nez Perce. Stubbornly, the Nez Perce fought them off and kept moving; knowing these were attempts to delay them. Everything and everyone now centered on making it into Canada, but that safe refuge was still several hundred miles away.

Her moccasins were worn through in spots, she felt sick and exhausted, but others were in worse shape. The gallant people had now traveled more than a thousand miles. Short on food and supplies, they dare not stop long to hunt or rest. Old ones and wounded who could not live were reluctantly left along the trail at their own insistence, knowing the merciless Indian scouts of the army would kill them when they found them. Women paused on the trail to give birth, then stumbled to their feet, carrying their newborns, knowing they must somehow catch up because the tribe could not wait.

Once beautiful Appaloosas, the pride of the warriors, now looked like walking bone piles, their ribs showing like a white man's washboard because there was little time for them to graze the sparse grass. When a beautiful steed finally fell, unable to carry a human or drag a travois any farther, the owner killed it with tears streaming down his face and fed the half-cooked meat to the children. There was no time to graze or hunt or even rest, Willow thought dully as she put one foot in front of the other, leading her mare and letting the children ride.

Time and distance were the enemies. All knew that winter would be coming soon as September passed, and still the people headed north. The few straggly trees along creeks turned gold and their leaves begin to blow in the autumn wind. What made their trouble more bitter was that their Indian allies had either turned their backs or were working as scouts for the army. They could count on no one but their own brave warriors. Wounded were carried along until they died and left in hastily dug shallow graves, the people too tired and too harried to dig proper burial places. Yet even as they buried their old and their fatally wounded, they knew the scavenging enemy Indian scouts would dig up the dead, scalp and mutilate them, steal items from the thin, wasted bodies. Everyone's hopes centered on making it to the free cold air of Canada and the warm tipis and lodge fires of Sitting Bull's people.

Willow tried not to think about her own problems as the tribe moved. Compared to the death and misery around her, her problems might be minor to anyone else. She cooked what little food Bear and Raven found, wrapped wounds, and buried small babies. She could only be thankful the old grandmother, little Wolf Cub, and his young aunt were still all right. They must keep moving; the soldiers were on their trail. Nothing mattered anymore but going north, staying ahead of the soldiers, making it to safety before the winter winds blew snow across their trail and added to their misery.

Their scouts kept them appraised of Sturgis's cavalry movements. As long as the tribe stayed ahead of the soldiers, they would be all right, they assured one another. That cavalry colonel would not catch them in time; he was too far behind. At night, the children whimpered for food and Willow slept fitfully, dreaming of great humps of fat buffalo, roaring fires, and warm fur robes.

 

 

Colonel Nelson Miles leaned back in his chair at Fort Keogh and stared at the maps spread on his desk again, then at the boyish young lieutenant who had just entered and saluted.

Automatically, he returned the salute. “At ease. This is interesting news you've brought me, Warton. You've earned the right to stay behind and rest.”

The handsome boy brushed a stray curl off his forehead and shook his head. “With your permission, sir, I'd like to go along; you know, be there for the kill.”

Miles stroked his mustache and nodded with approval. “You're a man after my own heart, Lieutenant. There'll be a lot of publicity, maybe some promotions in this.”

The younger man grinned. “I know, sir. Besides, I've got personal reasons to go; a girl I loved was carried off by those red devils.”

Miles made a noise of sympathy. “Glad to have you along. The Second and the Seventh Cavalry and the Fifth Infantry are mounted, plus a unit of Cheyenne and a few Sioux scouts. That Two Arrows is the best of the Cheyenne scouts, and he'll be with us. Yellowstone Kelly is our white scout.”

“The
Yellowstone Kelly?” The young officer was visibly impressed.

Miles nodded. “Kelly's earned that reputation, too.”

“Wonderful, sir.” Warton said, “You have a Hotchkiss gun and a Napoleon cannon?”

“Yes, I'm leaving nothing to chance.” Miles smiled with thoughtful satisfaction as he folded his maps. He was ambitious and eager to move up in the army. Being married to Mary Sherman, niece of both General Sherman, and Ohio's Senator John Sherman, had helped Miles's career. He was also the conqueror of the Sioux and Cheyenne in the aftermath of the Little Big Horn. This Nez Perce campaign would be his crowning achievement.

Well, Miles was ready. Four hundred top soldiers set to leave Fort Keogh today. He looked over at the faded calendar on the office wall; September 18. “Never can tell when the weather will turn really cold in Montana Territory,” he said half to himself as he stood up.

“No sir. Sounds as if you'll make short work of this, sir, beat Sturgis and Howard's troopers to it. The newspapers are full of criticism.”

“That's because newspapermen have never had to live under these conditions and fight Indians.” Miles stroked his big handlebar mustache and reached for his bearskin coat and fur hat on the coat stand. “I'd better take this.”

“It is a bit nippy today, sir.” The young officer rushed to help him with it.

“I've been on so many damned Indian campaigns.” Miles sighed to himself, thinking he really deserved a promotion and maybe a position in the War Department. With his wife's important uncles and a little favorable publicity on this campaign, maybe it could be done.

“I'm sure you'll make short work of it and toast your victory with some good brandy.”

Miles snorted as he went out the door. “With Bible-thumping Howard due to join us? Not likely!”

The lieutenant walked along with him. “Have you warned your scouts to keep their distance from the Nez Perce?”

“Yes, surprise; that's what's we're after.” Miles grunted as they walked toward the parade ground where the troopers waited. “We don't want Chief Joseph to have any inkling we're coming.”

“Where do you think we'll cross their path, sir?” The lieutenant's handsome face furrowed.

Miles paused and stared at the map in his hand again. “By my calculations, if everything goes right, we'll cross the Missouri River, and engage the enemy somewhere in the Bear Paw Mountains.”

“The Bear Paws are less than forty miles from the border,” the younger man said. “They might get there before we do.”

“I am well aware of that, Lieutenant,” Miles said in a frosty tone. “I've been fighting Indians a long time; surprise is the key here.” He paused next to his horse and looked back at the troops behind him. “We only have to delay Joseph until Sturgis and Howard arrive. Joseph and his handful of warriors don't have a chance against our three combined forces.”

“Unless he beats us to the border, sir.”

“Remember, their wounded and old ones will be slowing their pace down”—Miles pulled his fur hat down over his ears—“although I don't like shooting women and kids.”

“Begging your pardon, sir,” the younger man snapped, “those Injuns have left a trail of dead soldiers behind them; remember that.”

He was having second thoughts about this young officer. “I don't need to be reminded of my duty by a junior officer.”

“I meant no offense, Colonel Miles.” Lieutenant Warton was almost groveling.

That mollified him. Miles said, “The Nez Perce will be watching to the south for Howard and Sturgis, not to the east for us,” Miles said as he swung up on his chestnut horse. “Mount up, Lieutenant, I intend to give those newspapers something to write about.”

“Yes, sir. Some of those newspapers are pitying the Nez Perce.”

“Pity!” Miles snorted as he spurred his horse to lead the column out. “Those Indians had better hope God pities them because the U.S. Army won't!”

 

 

Pe-khoon-mai-kahl,
September, the month of the fall salmon run, Willow remembered. If they were home in their beloved Wallowa, the tribe would be catching and drying the great salmon for the coming winter. Instead, it seemed to Willow that all they did was walk or pause long enough to bury someone. There were mornings she felt so tired, the only thing that kept her going was the fact that she carried a baby within her. Somehow that unborn child became the embodiment of the Nez Perce people. She could not, would not think about what would happen in Canada when both brothers realized her condition. Right now, all that was important was crossing that border.

Sometimes now as the autumn came on, the mornings were chill and no one paid any attention to the fact that she kept a blanket wrapped around herself. Several times, the old grandmother gave her curious looks as if she wanted to ask or say something, then seemed to think better of it.

The fact that Willow was with child was a small detail right now when the tribe was struggling for its very survival and everyday, more wounded, old and babies died of exhaustion, lack of food or infection. Besides food, they were short of blankets and ammunition. Without ammunition, they couldn't even kill game or defend themselves when the soldiers attacked again.

If Willow had hoped neither man would notice her condition until the tribe had made it safely to Canada, she was hoping in vain. She had stopped sleeping with Bear at his request; he said he was afraid he couldn't control the urge to make love to her if she slept too close. She had been sharing her blankets and body warmth with the old grandmother and the two children while the two brothers scouted and met continually with Joseph and the other leaders. It seemed to Willow that all they did was walk northward, then collapse at night, only to drag themselves up again before dawn and start walking.

The wounded suffered terribly, but there was nothing to be done for them. Many of them died during the nights and sometimes when death was imminent, they were left by the trail because their loved ones no longer had the strength to carry them. Horses were so lean and weak from not stopping to graze the scanty grass that they dropped in their tracks and the people butchered and ate them. Late at night, small babies wailed weakly and their starving mothers had no milk in their flat breasts to give them.

Many nights, Willow buried her face in her hands and wept, not for herself but for her people who had suffered so much. She clung to her beloved novel because it gave the children something to think about late at night by the fire when she read to them to keep their minds off their empty bellies. Even Bear and Raven sat and listened, both of them watching her with soft gazes that she tried not to notice.

What she had feared finally happened. They had crossed the Musselshell River and had camped for the night so that the people could rest and maybe catch a few fish. Water was always in such short supply, that it was a luxury to have plenty. It was dusk when Willow took off her ragged deerskin shift and waded out in the shallows to bathe. The water was cold and the night cool, but who knew when they might have a chance like this again?

She heard Bear calling for her and abruptly, he appeared on the riverbank. Quickly, she grabbed her clothes, held them before her as she came ashore. She put her shift on, walked toward him, her heart beating with apprehension.

He smiled, puzzled. “Why didn't you tell me?”