Sweet Savage Surrender (41 page)

"Sure as hell she is, Charlie
.
We'd better take her captive.  Colonel
Chi
vington
may want to question her
, h
er speakin' English an
d all."

"Naw!"  The man shook his head.  " You know what he said. 
No
prisoners."

"But....but Charlie--s
he's so pretty, I haven't the heart to kill her.  Can't we take her back?" Maybe we can keep her.  Hell, I'll take her back to
Boulder
with me.  Sure would be nice to have her to keep me w
arm when the nights are cold."

"Aw...all right!"  He nudged Skyraven roughly with the toe of his boot. "Come on, squaw.  Get up off your knees and come with us."  The big boned, blue coated soldier reached down and wrapped his hairy arms around Skyraven's wai
st and lifted her to her feet.

Skyraven
was in a state of  shoc
k as the two blue coated, white soldiers dragged and pushed her along to where their ho
rses were tethered.  T
he full impact of what had happened swept over her. The death
s
, the killing.  For the first time Skyraven allowed herself to think
,
and it was a shattering thing to remember. Would she ever forget the sound of the screams, the shrieks?  No! 
They would forever be branded on he
r
soul along with her hatred.
And to think that just a few days ago she had given her heart and complete trust to one of the
white
soldiers,  had so trustingly allowed him to bring here to this place.  Peace, he had said, making
a
false promise.

"Oh, how could he have betrayed me so?" 
She
breathed, falling to her hands and knees once more.  The thought of what he had done defeated her as no white man's bullets could do.  Beating her breasts in a show of grief
,
she at last gave in
to tears.

"Come on.  Come on.  Get up and follow me or I will have to shoot you
," Boyd commanded.

At that moment she nearly told the white man to do just that and might have if not for the memory of Desert Flower.  She did have something to live for.  Defiantly
,
she stood up, thrust back he
r shoulders and walked along.

John Hanlen!  John Hanlen, I curse you
, she thought.    Somehow she still wa
nted to believe that he had not
  had anything to do with the killing and yet how could she not believe when she had seen him with her very eyes. 
Lean Bear
had trusted the whites and he was dead. Black Kettle had held out his hand in peace to the whites, had even received a meda
l, a flag  and papers from the Great White F
ather, saying that his tribe was friendly.  That hadn't stopped all of this.  The white man had fired on Black Kettle even though he waved the American flag, even though he waved a white flag of truce. Both he and Left Hand had gone to
Denver
City
and had eaten in the white man's homes. Left Hand had welcomed the miners, had left them in peace.  Now they had all paid the price for showing
any friendship to the whites.

"Come on.  Walk a little faster.   You ain't exactly a lady out for a 
little
stroll and  we ain't got all day ."  The tall, thin man pushed her
foreword
causing her to lose her balance and fall to her knees.   Ignoring the pain, brushing herself off, she rose again.  They said nothing more  to her  but did  push and shove Skyraven along
.
Finally, they got to the clearing
,
where  two horses stood pat
iently chewing on tree bark.
             

"Guess she'll have to ride with you, Boyd.  My saddle bags are too full of
souvenirs
.  That buffalo robe I took from the chief's place before we burned it down is rolled up  across part of  my saddle alread
y." 

Skyraven recognized Black Kettle's favorite painted buffalo robe.  There was not anot
her like it anywhere around.
She wanted to ask if Black Kettle was still alive
,
but decided against it.  She really didn't have very much to say to these cut thro
ats.  These cutthroats
would nev
er tell her the truth anyway.

"Did you take any scalps?"
Boyd asked Charlie.

Skyraven paled
at the question and drew back.

"Naw.  Somehow taking hair just isn't my  way of doin' things.  I've kn
owed a few Indians in my day, s
ome of them peaceful up around
Boulder
way.  Well, I g
uess I just kept remembering."

"Ya know, just between  you and me I don't remember seeing very many braves in that camp.  Mostly women and child
ren.  Kinda takes all the whoop-de-
do of the victory out of it.  Kinda makes my mou
th go dry...." Without another  word  Boyd
jerked Skyraven 
onto his  horse.

Skyraven c
losed her eyes as she sat in
front of the stocky man in the blue coat.  
She had been through
so much on
this day.  All thought of running away had fled her.  She knew she wouldn't have the strength to go very far. Her body was sore, she had several cuts and bruises.  
She was uncomfortable as they proceeded
down the narrow trail along the river's edge.  She really didn't have enough room sitting in front of the heavy set man .  Even so
,
she realized how lucky she was this day.  She was alive!  Alive!   At the same time she grieved for those she loved who had been cut down
. S
he felt her body pump with blood and gave her thanks to Man
Above.  Now she owed it to the Great S
pirit to do something to help her people, to make h
er having survived worthwhile.

"Steady there, girlie.  Don't fall off."  As they went down the hillside
,
the man placed his big arm around her
,
but still
 
his body slid into hers causing her to be caught
between
his girth and the saddle horn.   The saddle horn pressed into her tender stomach, rubbing a new sore spot on her body.  Even so
,
Skyraven welcomed the pain.  It was a
tangible
sign of life that she could feel.  Life!  Once again she mourned those who had not been given the gift of being spared death, shuddering as she thought about those who had been
scalped
. 
By
doing such
terrible deeds,
the soldiers had condemned them in the afterlife. 
             

"Sure is flat country hereabouts.  Not at all like those "Flatirons" we have up
Boulder
way," her heavyset captor was saying.  "I sure am in a hurry to get back.  Seems more like a thousand days than a hu
ndred."

This day has seems
like a lifetime
…. Skyraven thought, blinking back her tears, but she
  managed to smile as they passed the place where Desert Flower and the baby were hidden.   The two soldiers had not noticed that there was anyone in hiding. 
They obviously did not look very
closely
and did not
see the dark eyes peering out and the hand raised in a sort of waving position.  But Skyraven did
,
and rejoiced in  her heart  to know that Desert Flower and Big Bear  were still there and were alright.  She was not alone after all.  From wherever the soldiers took her
,
her heart would touch on Desert Flower's and be glad.
             

Chapter Forty-Three
             

John was tied securely and pushed into Chivington's tent.  He
posed no danger to the colonel,
though he would have liked to have wrung his neck
, for
they had  bound his  hands and feet so  tightly that he had gone beyond pain to numb fingers and toes. Even so
,
it was his heart that pained him, as well as his soul.  Skyraven!  Her face came back to haunt him again and again.  He had so wanted to save her, to carry her away with him
,
but fate had not been that kind. Thoug
h it pained him to even think of
it
,
he felt of a
surety
that she must be dead.  He had watched the slaughter from a hill with his captors and knew there were very few survi
vors.  He was afraid to hope.

And
Skyraven’s grandfather,
Chief Left Hand, Bl
ue Fox and Desert Flower....what of them?
  Had they been victims of this senseless a
ct of violence?
A great evil had
been perpetuated
today that he knew could never be fully  rectified.  Murder was the name he had for it, though Chivington called it "glory"
and John was the one facing punishment.

"Inventory has been taken, Sir."  A young sergeant  ente
red the tent and addressed the
 
 
balding lieutenant in charge
of the records
.  "Four hundred fi
fty head of captured animals."

"And the lodges?"  Chivington had ordered that a complete detail of "re
covered" articles be detailed.

"Sixteen buffalo robes, twenty finely tanned and embroidered deerskin dresses and skirts,  sixteen buckskin
breechcloths
, ten pair of moccasins.  Add to that  some food, utensils, tools.  And quite a lot of jewelry.  Them
Indians sure did like beads."

Were any of the purloined articles Skyraven’s.
  The very thought made him rage.
Not one of these so-called "
heroes
"
had been worthy to kiss h
er feet.  Now
the most wonderful woman who  had ever touched his life was
probably dead--d
ead while all these skunks were l
iving.

"Dead..." he whispered. 
Would death be his fate
,
too?
 

John knew that his only redemption
in the next few days
lay in the fac
t that Chivington had
pushed sou
thward.
The colonel was heading toward the
Arkansas River
, or so he had said, in search of Little Raven and his band of
Arapaho.
Another triumphant victory?
John wondered dryly. Perhaps the colonel would not be so determined to fight the Indians if they were armed. Shooting at women and children seemed to be his specialty. Had Chivington not left Sedgwick in command
,
John had no doubt but that he would have
met death at the hands of a fir
ing
   squad much as the Reynolds gang had.
             

However,
Sedgewick at last proved his true colors.  He was no friend
to John and now he showed it. His first order was to make certain the prisoner’s bonds were secure.
             

"I want you to contact my father,"  John said, certain that when he revealed to his father exactly what had happened it would be Chivington and not h
e who would be facing censure.

"I'm afraid not, John."  Sedgwick's expression was uncompromising.  "It would be against
Colonel Chivington's orders."

"For God's sake, man, my life is in the balance."  John tempered his shout, lowering his voice so that others' ears could not hear him.
Another prisoner, an Indian, had been shot to death by a rowdy bunch of soldiers. He
had
to be careful not to get any  of Chivington’s remaining rowdies stirred up.
  "I think my father has a right to know."

"That his son is a traitor?  Would you really want to d
o that to that proud old man?"

John's jaw ticked in anger.  "I'm no traitor and well you know it
! It
will
be proved when I reve
al what really happened here."

"We punished a band of rampaging Indians.  Chivington has written a letter attesting to the fact that s
calps were found in the camp."

"That's a lie!
” John retorted with furor.  “
If there are any
,
he planted them there to whitewash the fact that he just massacred a
village of peaceful Indians."

Sedgwick smiled slowly.  "Peaceful?  Why, there ar
e rifle pits dug in the bank."

"Rifle pits be damned.  They were digging holes for themselves in which to hide from that devil's brutality."  John shook his head.  "Why am I talking to you.  You know as well as I do what happened here.  As for me, my conscience is clear.  I wonder if you w
ill be able to sleep nights."
             

"I'll sleep very well, but as for you with so many
marks against you, I would think you would be having nightmares.”
Sedgwick's eyes were as cold.  "Consorting with the enemy for starters.  To be exact, consorting with the enemy in time of war which is in itself carries a death penalty.  Disobeying a direct order.  You knew very well that no one, I repeat no one, was to cross that cordon and go to the Indian camp."  His brows furled together.  He thrust his face a mere two inches from John's.  "To warn them I have no doubt."  Before John could defend his actions
,
he hurried on.  "C
owardice.  It is obvious that you
had no stomach for killing Indians and I can only think it to be because he feared for his own scalp."  He paused, his face relaxing its stern lines as he thought of yet another charge.  "Ah, yes.  I forgot.  Fleeing to the
enemy with a national secret."

"Your charges or Chivingtons?"

"I fully intend to back him up."  Sedgwick strutted about, reading from a letter Chivington had dictated.  In it
,
Chivington bragged about the defeat he had handed the
Cheyennes
and southern Arapahos at Sand Creek, calling it a "brilliant thing" which would make him a brigadier general, o
r put a star on his shoulder."

"We'll see,"  John mumbled, longing for freedom as he never had bef
ore.  If he could only get  away,
perhaps he could get together some of the soldiers who had been
abhorred
by the senseless violence and inspire them to testify.  He heard that Captain Silas S. Soule, one of the soldiers who had tried to talk Chivington out of his campaign, proved that a resolute commander could keep his men under control, even during hysteria
.
  Through the hours of battle and butchery, Soule had steadfastly refused to order his men to fire, making it a point that he oppo
sed killing peaceful Indians. 
After Soule refused to allow his men to participate, Lieutenant
Joseph
Cramer soon followed suit. 
Even more noteworthy, Soule had even gone so far as to order his men to take up a position between the Indians and the attacking troops, allowing more of the Indians to escape the massacre.  Nor was Soule totally alone
,
for s
everal of the men from
Fort
Lyon
had been severely troubled over the matter
.  But would they tell anyone?

Sedgwick seemed to read John's mind.  "Oh, now don't go thinking about stirring up a hornets nest.  You see, we have a trial all p
lanned out for you, me and the c
olonel.  Only we're going to keep it very secret.
Just a few officers. Wouldn’t want to ruin morale."

"If I
reach the fort alive, i
s that what you mean?  Well, don't think you can shoot me in the back on the way  back to
Fort
Lyon
and bury me out in the sand.  If anything peculiar happens there
will be a full investigation."

For the first time since entering the tent Sedgwick's self-confidence
faltered. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that the letter from me to my father that Chivington has in his possession
wasn’t the only copy.
I sent another, listing all of Chivington's little idiosyncrasies, such as what happened to t
hose five Confederate outlaws."

"I see."  For the moment at least John knew his hide was saved.
As he
was hoisted on one of the fort's horses
to head back to
Fort
Lyon
and the brig,
he had the hope that  the letter he had sent to his father would insure his safety, at least for a while.