The Reluctant Bridegroom (20 page)

“Of course.” She watched him ride off, and her lips softened as she thought of the brief encounter. Then she thought of Rebekah, and worry brought a wrinkle to her smooth brow. “Got to watch her,” she said quietly to herself.

Dave rode along with Sky, listening to what he said, but thinking of Karen at the same time. “If Karen can handle the wagon part of the time,” Sky said, “I’d like you to start scouting with the Indians and me. We’re heading into Spotted Elk’s territory, and the more of us screening the train, the more likely we’ll be to spot his band.”

“You think he’ll hit the train, Sky?”

“He might. He’s a tricky cuss, and mean as sin, but he’s careful, too. Doubt if he’d risk a head-on battle, but it’s just as well to double our lookouts.” He turned in his saddle to look his friend in the eye. “If I go down, Dave, you’ll have to hold this train together.”

“Me! I don’t know the way!” he protested. “ ‘Sides, you won’t get killed.”

“Any of us could, Dave.” Sky’s head swiveled, methodically searching the horizon. “Snake could get me. Cholera’s always a danger. Grizzlies can wipe a man out. And I’ve seen more than one man who’s outwitted every Indian and varmint on the plain go out with a little rabbit fever. We’re just here from day to day. Got no promises on tomorrow. That’s what the Bible says.”

Lloyd eyed his friend warily, but said nothing. He admired Winslow as he had rarely admired another man, but he did
not understand the dark streak of fatalism that ran beneath the smooth surface. Nothing seemed to bother Sky—yet the man had few dreams and little hope that things would turn out well. Finally he gave up and said, “What’s it like up ahead, Sky?”

“Uphill. We’re through the easy part, Dave. Now it gets rough.”

Dave was to find out what he meant in the days to come. The land lifted, pulling the strength of the oxen down and sapping everyone’s energies. They began to pass little piles of furniture and other goods that had been abandoned by earlier trains, forced to lighten their loads. Sheet-iron stoves, an anvil, a hand-rubbed claw-foot table, and other treasured items strewed the wayside as they doggedly urged the oxen up the slope.

The land was mostly barren. At long range the mountain-sides looked like green meadows; up close they turned out to be dry sand and rock dotted by stunted clumps of sage and greasewood. Finally they passed the Sweetwater (which was not sweet, they discovered!), and the scenery grew steadily more and more spectacular.

On the first day of July, they pulled in for the night and hurried to get the fires built. The mountain air cut like a knife, and Sky laughed as they huddled close for warmth. “Anybody like to be back in the desert, sweating?”

Edith pulled a blanket tighter. “No, but it’s so cold here!”

“Maybe you’d like a glass of ice water?” Sky inquired. “I’m serious. Anyone for a glass of ice water?”

“I’ll have one, Sky,” Rita spoke up. She had barely spoken to him since the incident at Chimney Rock, but now she smiled and rose from her seat. “Where’ll you get ice around here?”

“Come along—any of you—and bring a cup or a glass.” He plucked a pick from a wagon and led the way to a spot close to a sandstone bank. The soil was soft, and he began to dig. The pick rang at once, and someone said, “Bedrock.”

Sky cleaned the dirt away, raised the pick, and broke off
a chunk of something and tossed it to Rita. “There’s your ice—a little dirty, but ice all the same.”

“Why, it
is
ice!” she exclaimed.

“Sure. This place is called Ice Slough. We’re up seven thousand feet, and there’s always ice about a foot deep, even in July.”

The others fell to digging, and although the ice was liberally studded with gravel, they got enough chunks to take back and make drinks with.

Sky saw Tom Lake standing beside the fire, and made his way over. “How’s it going, Tom? Ribs about well?”

“Sure.” He turned his face toward Sky and touched his head. “Guess I’ll always have a few scars, but a man gets those, doesn’t he?” He dropped his hand and the corners of his mouth turned down with a worried expression. “Rebekah’s not well.”

Sky glanced toward the wagon. “We’ll be through the South Pass in a couple of days. Then maybe we can make Fort Hall in a couple of weeks. Be an army doctor there, I think.”

Tom shook his head. “Baby won’t be that long coming.”

Lake was an educated man, but an animal doctor—even a good one like Tom—was no match for the real thing. Sky looked at him with puzzlement. “How’d you figure that, Tom?”

Lake shrugged. “The women say so—and it’s pretty plain.” He shifted his feet and said nervously, “I wish she’d stayed in Laramie!”

“Well, she wouldn’t—so we’ll just have to do the best we can.”

“How’s the road after we get through the pass? Pretty rough?”

“Like a washboard.” He glanced at Lake and added, “Not a road for a woman about to have a baby—but it’s the only road there is. Keep an eye on her, Tom. When the baby comes, we’ll pull up and wait until it’s safe to move on—even if it takes a week.”

There was something in his voice that made Lake look at him more carefully. “What’s up, Sky?”

Winslow said slowly, “Don’t say anything to the women, but we’ve got visitors, Tom.”

Lake gave an involuntary look around, then asked, “Indians?”

“Reckon so. Keep your gun handy, and if trouble comes, you look out for Rebekah.”

Sky went around the train, giving a warning to the men, and Riker asked, “You think it’s that Sioux chief, Winslow?”

“I’d guess it’s him, Al.”

“None of us has seen a sign of an Indian.”

“Nobody’s going to see a Sioux unless he wants to be seen.”

“Where’s them tame Indians of yours?”

“Creeping around—just like Spotted Elk and his braves. They’ll probably come in tonight or tomorrow. I want a heavy guard tonight. Half of us to watch while the other half sleeps.”

“Me and my boys’ll stand a watch.”

Every man on the train was on a hair-trigger alert, and the women found out soon enough. There was little sleep that night or the next, and by the third night they were almost at the neck of the South Pass, and vigilance had relaxed.

Sky was standing beside Al Riker fifty yards out from where the wagons were circled. The big man was sleepy and yawned, “Whut time is it, Winslow?”

“I guess about two.”

Riker strained his eyes to see, then said disgustedly, “I reckon it’s a false alarm. Ain’t no Indians hereabouts.”

“Yes, there is.”

The voice seemed to be right at Riker’s feet, and a dark shape he had taken for a rock suddenly rose upright. Riker leaped backward, trying to get his gun in position.

“Hold it, Riker!” Sky barked. “It’s White Hawk!”

The Sioux came closer and the two men could hear the laughter in his tone as he spoke in his native language. “If
I were Spotted Elk, I would have two fine scalps to hang on my lodgepole.”

“That’s the truth,” Sky grinned, answering in Sioux. He slapped the Indian on the shoulder. “Guess I’m going deaf in my old age—but you always were a slippery one.” Then he asked, “I reckon you’ve got Spotted Elk located?”

“Yes. He has followed you up the pass. Both Kieta and I thought he would attack, but he has gone on ahead.”

“An ambush?”

White Hawk’s teeth gleamed in the darkness. “He is a fox, Spotted Elk! You know a narrow place up there—outcropping on one side, sheer wall on the other?”

“I know it.”

“Spotted Elk’s braves are there, half on one side, half on the other.”

“And when the wagons are in that place, all they’ll have to do is stand up and shoot us like fish in a barrel.”

The Indian grunted. “Good trap, is it not?”

Riker grew tired of being left out of the exchange. “Whut’s he sayin’, Winslow?”

Sky explained the situation, and Riker swore. “Any way around that pass?”

“No. We’ll have to go through.”

“Sounds like suicide to me!”

“That’s what Spotted Elk is counting on,” Sky said. “Let’s get the men up. I’ve got an idea.”

“Better be good,” White Hawk responded as they went back. “He’s got about twenty braves—probably his best fighters.”

In ten minutes every man on the train stood around the fire, while the women remained in the background, listening. “It’s really kind of simple,” Sky explained. “Elk is smart. He knows we can’t go back, and we can’t go around, and we can’t wait. He knows where we are, and if we don’t show up, he’ll get us here.” He studied the fire, the angular planes
of his face deepened in the flickering light. Lifting his head, he said, “We’ve got one thing going for us.”

“I don’t see what,” Dave muttered. “Looks like he’s got all the high cards.”

“Thanks to White Hawk and Kieta, Spotted Elk doesn’t know we’re on to him. We’ll have to make that our play.”

“What’re you thinkin’, Winslow?” Al Riker asked.

“If we can knock Spotted Elk out, the rest will run. They believe in their medicine, Al, and when a leader goes down, they’re pretty sure to turn tail. But it’ll be hard to get at him. We’ll have to send two scouting parties ahead and get in place behind them. Then when the train comes through in the morning, we’ll pot the Sioux when they start the attack.”

“Sounds like you’re using us for bait, Winslow,” Jack Stedman whined loudly.

“You rather go find Spotted Elk in the dark, Stedman?” Dave snapped angrily. “Keep your mouth shut and let the man talk!”

“Well, Stedman is half right. Those of you in the wagons will be sitting ducks if we don’t get in place,” Sky said.

“Who’s going to go with you?” Lake asked.

“Just White Hawk and Kieta. I reckon only a Sioux would have a chance on sneaking up on another Sioux in the dark.”

“Wouldn’t care for the job myself,” Riker commented. “When do we try this plan of yours, Winslow?”

“It’ll have to be now, Al. I want some extra rifles, all primed and loaded and wrapped in blankets. And six pistols with full loads.”

The extra arms were quickly assembled. “Get every rifle loaded and ready to fire,” Sky continued. “I want one woman on each seat with the driver. When you hear a shot, you women grab the lines and drive the animals as fast as they’ll go. You men start shootin’ up at the rim of the canyon. You won’t see much, but it’ll be a little pressure on the Sioux.” He looked around the circle and focused on Lot Penny. “Brother Penny, you might say a prayer for the train.”

Penny took off his hat, and the others followed suit. “Lord, we are in a hard place. Those who lie in wait ahead of us are your creatures—but they stand between us and life. I don’t know how to pray, for you love the Sioux just as you love all men. I ask you to favor us, and let there be little loss of life. And I ask this in the name of Jesus.”

“Pretty good prayer,” Dave murmured to Karen as Sky and White Hawk were swallowed up by the darkness. He looked down at her and asked, “You afraid?”

“Yes.”

“Me, too. Guess everyone is—except Sky and them Indians. They take to this sort of thing natural, I reckon. Hope I don’t show yellow.”

“You won’t.” Karen’s voice was sure, and she touched his arm lightly. “You’ll be in the first wagon, Dave. Be careful.” She hesitated, then whispered, “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Dave Lloyd was thinking about Karen the next morning as he sat in the wagon with May Stockton beside him. He glanced down at the three rifles at his feet and said, “That’s it up ahead, May. Be ready to take these lines.”

“I’m ready, Dave.”

The silence seemed oppressive as they approached the high-walled pass, and every eye was searching the rim for the enemy. The only sound was the creaking of the wagon wheels and the voices of the drivers as they urged the animals up the slope. “Looks like the mouth of the canyon,” Dave said quietly. “Reckon they’ll let us get halfway in, then open up.”

He was right, for when the last wagon rolled into the gap, a rifle shot broke the stillness, and a scream of pain rose up from one of the drivers.

“Haw up!” Dave screamed. Throwing the lines to May, he snatched one of the rifles from the floor and leaned forward, taking aim. The wagon careened from side to side, but he caught a glimpse of a red body on the rim to his left and
took a quick shot. It missed, but the Indian dodged back as the slug hit the rock at his feet.

Rifle fire rattled from the rim. Glancing back, Dave saw Charlie Gladden drop his rifle and fall backward, his chest bloody from a bullet. Then Dave grabbed another rifle and tried to get off a shot, but the wagon was pitching so wildly that it was all he could do to keep from being thrown out. The other drivers were throwing fire up to the rim, and up ahead Dave saw the canyon widen. “If we can get there,” he screamed to May, “we’ll be all right!”

But the fire from the canyon rim was raking the train steadily, and he knew that they had taken losses. He fired the third rifle, then snatched a revolver from his belt, and while holding on to the canopy rim with one hand, he emptied the gun. One Indian grabbed his stomach and slid down the bluff, his body limp and bumping wildly as it hit the trail below.

Dave grabbed the other revolver and called out, “Keep going, May!” as he leaped to the ground. He stumbled and rolled to the dust, but was up in an instant. From the ground he could see the Sioux plainly, and he took a steady aim, zeroing in on one of them. On his fourth shot, the Indian’s head flew back and he disappeared in the rocks.

As he fired the last load, a wild cry went up from the rim, and he glanced up to see an Indian cartwheeling down the slope, stopping abruptly as the body was almost impaled on a sharp outcropping of stone. At once the firing from the rim grew spasmodic, and Dave said to himself, “Spotted Elk, I’ll bet!”

The rest of the train came through as the firing from the rim faded out and then ceased. Dave dropped his gun and ran to Lake. “You all right, Tom?”

“Yes—but we have some men hit.”

Dave ran down the line checking the wounded as the wagons pulled to a halt. When he saw Karen step out of a wagon and fall to the ground, he yelled, “Karen!” and ran to her. “Are you hit?”

He pulled her up; she lifted her head, shaken but unhurt, and smiled tremulously at him. “Dave! I was so afraid for you!”