Wrath of the Savage Read online

  The solid thump of the stone on his chest was enough to startle and confuse Crow Killer, causing him to pause. When he did, it gave Bret the opportunity to lunge up under him and knock him off his feet. With Crow Killer down, Bret wasted no time in attacking. He launched his body at the wounded warrior, grasping the wrist of the hand that held the knife while he clutched Crow Killer’s throat, pressing against his windpipe as hard as he could. It seemed like minutes, although was actually only seconds, before the struggling warrior’s hand finally relaxed, releasing the knife. Bret took the knife and, even though Crow Killer was no longer fighting, sliced his throat to make sure he was dead.

  He stood there, looking down at the dead warrior, hardly able to believe that he had escaped unharmed, except for a slash on his shoulder from the arrow that glanced off it. Now that it was over, he wondered why the Indian had stopped charging when he threw the rock at him. It gave him time to catch him by surprise. He had to assume that the stone had struck him so solidly in the chest that he thought at first that he had been shot. You were damn lucky, Hollister, he thought. “Damn, you’re a helluva man,” he muttered in tribute to the bloody body. He turned then when he heard Coldiron crashing through the bushes behind him. “There were only two of them,” he stated calmly when the huge man burst through to join him, “but I don’t know where the other one is.” He pointed to the two ponies standing a couple of dozen yards away. “There’re the horses.”

  “Let’s pack up and get the hell outta here,” Coldiron said. “Ain’t no tellin’ how many other bucks heard that shot.”

  Not willing to leave the deer they just killed, Coldiron hurried to butcher the carcass while Bret went to get the Indians’ horses. He found them still standing in the trees upstream where he had last seen them. Leading them back toward the camp, he came to the thicket where their assailants had taken cover when they shot at them. There, he also found the body of the other hostile, his hand still clutching his bow. He had evidently been killed immediately when he and Coldiron had returned fire. Bret pried the bow from the Indian’s hand and stood up to test the pull of the bowstring. Interested, he pulled the hide quiver of arrows from the body as well, thinking it might be a good idea to learn to use the weapon, as Coldiron had done.

  When he walked back into the camp, leading the two horses, he found that it had not taken the big scout long to cut the portions he was saving and wrap them in the deer’s hide. “Ready!” he called out to Bret, while still loading them on his packhorse. He stopped what he was doing then to examine the Indian ponies.

  “Appaloosa,” he announced, nodding toward one of them. “Most likely stole it from the Nez Perce. How do they look to you?” he asked.

  “I haven’t looked them over that closely,” Bret replied. “But they seem to be in pretty good shape.” He smiled at Myra, who was also looking them over. “Both have Indian saddles on them—might make it easier on you than riding that packhorse.” The remark definitely caught her interest.

  The two ponies became a little nervous when the strangers gathered around them, prompting Coldiron to advise. “Might better pull the shirt offa one of them dead Injuns and rub it over the faces of them horses. Maybe that’ll calm ’em down till they get used to our smell.” His suggestion seemed to work on the captured ponies, for they calmed down enough for a thorough inspection, and when it was done, he concluded that they were of good quality—a conclusion that Bret had already arrived at.

  Their horses had not rested as long as they had planned, but they were watered, so the little party of white people left the banks of the Musselshell and struck out for the Smith River. “It can’t be more’n ten or fifteen miles to the Smith,” Coldiron said. “We can rest the horses again when we get there.”

  • • •

  When they reached the Smith River, they made camp for the night and Myra helped Coldiron cut the venison into strips for drying over the fire. “It’s a good thing it didn’t take us much longer to get here,” she said. “A little bit longer and this meat wouldn’t be fit to eat, smoked or otherwise.”

  “Oh, we coulda still ate it,” Coldiron said. “It’da just turned over a little while in your belly before it settled down.”

  Myra shook her head slowly and said, “It’s a wonder you’ve lived as long as you have.” She turned her attention back to the meat she was roasting for their supper, and he continued to fashion drying racks out of green willow limbs for the jerky.

  During the next few days, they saw many trails leading along the banks of the river, but they did not happen upon any village, as they had hoped to do. On the second day, they came upon the site of a previous village, but the tracks left by the departing Indians were over a week old. Bret counted evidence of sixty lodges.

  “Fair-sized village,” he remarked, “not big, not small.” Once again, he was struck by the feeling that their chances of finding Lucy Gentry were becoming more remote.

  Coldiron, sensing his partner’s concern, made the only suggestion he could think of that might have some potential.

  “Look here, this trail is gettin’ colder and colder. Why don’t we push on up to Jake Smart’s place? We might run up on a village between here and there, maybe the one that used to be here. But if we don’t, Jake mighta heard somethin’ about a white captive with one of the bands in this part of the country.” He shrugged and added, “I reckon he’s still there—if that wildcat he married ain’t killed him.”

  That sounded to be as good a plan as any, as far as Bret was concerned. There was never a thought from any of the three about giving up the search, for with all three, there was nothing pulling them back. When Bret made no comment, Myra gave voice to the decision.

  “Let’s quit lollygagging and get started, then. Lucy’s got a chance just as long as we keep looking for her.”

  The journey was not an easy one. The river made its way through the rugged country between the Big Belt Mountains and the Little Belt Mountains. With many twists and turns, it led them past miles of narrow canyons with steep walls, and pine-covered slopes. There were also gently sloping meadows here and there that might have been perfect sites for a village, but there were none.

  Still, they followed the river as it flowed to the northwest until late one afternoon they topped a low butte and spotted a log cabin with a small barn and a corral behind.

  “Well, the cabin’s still here,” Coldiron remarked.

  As they drew closer, they could see a man sitting in front of the cabin in a rocking chair. There was a small porch on the cabin, but the chair was sitting on the bare ground in front of it. Like Coldiron, the man was dressed in animal skins, so it was difficult to tell if he was white or Indian until they rode down the slope to the river.

  Having studied the three riders intently since they appeared at the top of the butte, Jake Smart turned his head to call to his wife inside the cabin.

  “We got company—white, one of ’em’s a woman, and one of ’em might be a soldier. I ain’t shore.”

  He remained seated in his rocker, but knocked the tobacco from his pipe on the side of the chair and dropped it in his pocket. Inside the house, his wife, Ruby Red Bonnet, reached behind a short counter, picked up a double-barrel shotgun, and positioned herself next to the door.

  It was not an everyday occurrence for white folks to visit the little trading post, especially one wearing a uniform, so Jake was a little more than curious. He settled his eye upon the man dressed in buckskins, thinking he was reminded of someone he knew, especially considering the apparent bulk of the man. After a few more moments passed, and the strangers reached the edge of his front yard, a slow smile spread across Jake’s face.

  “Ruby!” he called again. “No need to worry. It’s Nate Coldiron—don’t know who he’s got with him, though.” He settled back in his rocker then, not bothering to get to his feet to greet his visitors.

  “Jake Smart, you ol’
son of a bitch!” Coldiron called out as they rode up to the cabin. “You got so old you can’t ride nothin’ but a rockin’ chair?” He glanced then at the Indian woman, who appeared in the open doorway. “Ruby,” he acknowledged. She made no response.

  “I heard you was dead,” Jake responded.

  “Who told you that?” Coldiron replied.

  “I just heared it somewhere. Figured it was most likely true, ’cause you was long overdue.” He got up from the chair and nodded toward Bret before asking, “You still doin’ some scoutin’ for the army?”

  “Some,” Coldiron replied.

  “Ain’t much of a patrol you’re ridin’ with right now. I hope there’s a heap more soldiers behind you. Ain’t you a little worried about runnin’ into a Blackfoot war party?”

  “Some,” Coldiron repeated. “There’s just the three of us,” he continued then. “We’re lookin’ for a young white woman some of your Injun friends run off with. She was took with this lady, here, but they split up back on the Musselshell, and some other bunch has got the other one. Myra here says the ones who took the girl were just visitin’ the village. I figured they was more likely Bloods. I thought maybe you’d seen somethin’, or heard somethin’ that might put us on their trail.”

  “Is that a fact?” Jake responded. Then without responding to Coldiron’s query, he turned his attention to Myra. “’Scuse my manners, ma’am. You folks step down and come in outta the sun. My woman’ll fetch you a dipper of cool water from the spring. Or maybe you’d enjoy a cup of cider. I’ve got a barrel that just come off a boat last week.” He offered his hand to help Myra dismount. “I declare,” he commented, “they’ve got you ridin’ on an Injun saddle.”

  “It does just fine,” Myra told him. “A cup of water would really be appreciated.”

  While Bret and Coldiron stepped down, Jake looked back at the sullen woman watching silently from the door. “Ruby, fetch a dipper of water for the lady.” Without a change of expression, Ruby turned and disappeared into the cabin. Turning his attention back to Coldiron, Jake said, “You boys need somethin’ from the store? Like I said, a boat just come up the Missouri last week, so I’ve got most anythin’ you might need.”

  “Maybe a few things before we go,” Bret said. “Let’s talk a little bit first.”

  Jake studied his face for a few moments. “Why don’t we set here on the porch in the shade?” he suggested. “I’ve had to move my rockin’ chair twice already to keep in the shade. Might as well set it on the porch now.” He picked up the rocker and carried it to the porch. “You can set yourself down here, ma’am.” There were no other chairs, so Bret and Coldiron sat down on the edge of the porch with Jake. “You fellers want some water, or cider, or coffee?”

  “Is it hard cider?” Coldiron asked.

  “No,” Jake replied at once. “You know I can’t keep nothin’ like that around here. I don’t even keep a bottle of likker for myself. Old Chief Black Bear would have what little hair I’ve got left if he found out I was sellin’ any spirits to his warriors. I don’t know how long I’d last if anythin’ was to happen to Ruby, anyway.”

  “Let’s make it coffee, then,” Bret decided, and Coldiron agreed.

  Jake went inside to give Ruby instructions to make a new pot of coffee. When he came back, he handed a dipper of water to Myra. Then he sat down on the edge of the porch again and started to fill his pipe with tobacco. Coldiron controlled his patience until Jake’s pipe was filled, lit, tamped down, and lit again. With the pipe pulling satisfactorily, Coldiron pressed for the information he had come to find.

  “Damn it, Jake, you’ve been livin’ with Injuns too damn long. You know anythin’ about the bunch we’re lookin’ for, or not?”

  “Maybe a little,” he said, his voice lowered almost to a hush. He glanced back to make sure Ruby was back in the kitchen before he continued. “You know the only way I hear anythin’ about things like that is from Ruby. The only reason they allow me to stay here is because it gives ’em someplace to trade, and they don’t think I have any love for the army.” That comment caused him to interrupt himself and ask, “What about you, young feller? Are you in the army, or what?”

  “No,” Bret replied. “I’m not in the army.”

  “Well, lemme give you some good advice. Get rid of that damn uniform. Soldiers ain’t too welcome around here.”

  “I thought about that myself,” Bret replied. “But I don’t have any other clothes, and there’s no place to buy them, anyway.” He realized he should have done it back in Bozeman when he was outfitting himself with horses and weapons.

  “I can fix you up with some deerskins,” Jake suggested, “like me and Nate’s wearin’. Ruby’s a dandy seamstress. She makes clothes all the time, and if I tell her you ain’t friendly with the army, she’d do it. Matter of fact, I’ll tell her you got throwed out of the army ’cause you wouldn’t fight against Injuns.”

  “All right, let’s do that,” Bret said. Jake didn’t catch the smile of irony on his and Coldiron’s faces.

  “She’s already got plenty of hides cured and softened up,” Jake went on. “A shirt and trousers are worth about four dollars. How you thinkin’ ’bout payin’ for ’em? You got somethin’ to trade?”

  “How about cash money, U.S. dollars?”

  “Cash money?” Jake echoed. “Yes, sir-ree, that’ll do just fine. How ’bout a good pair of moccasins, too? Cost you five more.” It was a rare occasion when he had an opportunity to do anything on a cash basis. Cash would come in especially handy the next time he bought supplies from the riverboats that traveled the Missouri. “I’ll tell Ruby you took that uniform offa a dead soldier you killed. She’ll do you a special good job then.”

  Even more impatient, although he agreed that it was a good idea for Bret to get rid of the uniform, Coldiron interrupted. “This is all fine and dandy, but now can we get back to what we came here for? What do you know about the other white woman?”

  Jake took a cautious look toward the door again before lowering his voice and returning to the subject.

  “I’ll tell you the truth, Nate. Ruby said there was a Blackfoot war party that raided some farms down along the Yellowstone, and they came back with two women captives. And I reckon that’s who had this lady that’s ridin’ with you now. Accordin’ to what Ruby was told, their village had some warriors visitin’ ’em. They were Piegans, not Bloods, and one of ’em took a real fancy to the young lady you’re lookin’ for. He came from a village above the Missouri on the Marias River is what Ruby said.” He saw the deep frown of interest in all three of their faces, so he was quick to caution them. “Don’t let on to Ruby that I told you anythin’ about this. If she thinks I told you where to go to look for that woman, she’d go straight to Chief Black Bear, and he’d have a war party on your behinds right now.” He paused to stroke his chin whiskers thoughtfully before adding, “And she’d most likely geld me while I was sleepin’ some night.” He flashed a sheepish grin at Coldiron, as the conversation was ended with the arrival of Ruby Red Bonnet carrying a coffeepot with her apron filled with cups.

  In an effort to thaw the icy reception they had received from the stoic Indian woman, Myra set the dipper on the floor and got up to offer her help with the coffee. “Here, Mrs. Smart, let me give you a hand with those cups.”

  Ruby said nothing in response, but stood still while Myra took the cups from her apron, watching the white woman closely, as if expecting a trick. When Myra distributed the cups, including one Ruby had brought for her, Ruby spoke her first words to them. “I pour. Coffee hot.” Then she took the pot back to place it on the corner of the stove.

  Jake grinned sheepishly. “She don’t talk much white man talk, but she cooks pretty good.” Remembering then, he added, “And she’s a helluva seamstress. Don’t take her long, neither, once she gets started.”

  “I don’t know if we can take the time
to get some clothes made,” Bret remarked, rethinking his commitment earlier.

  “Two days, if she gets goin’ on ’em right away,” Jake said, anxious about losing the money. “And I’m gonna tell you what’s the truth. Walkin’ around with them army clothes on is the same thing as havin’ a target on your back.” He looked solemnly at Coldiron then. “You know I’ve always been straight with you, Nate. And I’m tellin’ you, this ain’t a good time for a white man to be seen on this side of the Missouri. And it’s worse on the other side, up toward the Marias. It’d be a whole lot better for you folks if the Injuns think you’re just a couple of trappers.”

  Coldiron nodded thoughtfully. “I expect he might be right,” he said to Bret. “I don’t wanna hold up any longer, same as you, but we might avoid some extra trouble if we wait till we can get you outta that uniform.”

  Bret looked at Myra before answering. She nodded, so he said, “All right, we’ll wait.” Turning to Jake then, he asked, “How soon can you get her started?”

  “Ruby!” Jake called out immediately. When the sullen woman appeared at the door, he told her, “These folks heard about how good you make deerskin shirts and trousers, so they come all this way to see how fast you can make some clothes for this feller so he don’t have to keep wearin’ them army clothes.” She didn’t seem to be very enthusiastic about the prospect, so Jake went on. “He’s gonna pay in government money, and we can buy a lot of things offa the boat with that.” She nodded then and returned to the kitchen.

  “Nothing fancy,” Bret said. “I don’t need any fringes or stuff like Coldiron’s shirt has on it. That’d be quicker, wouldn’t it?”

  “It would at that,” Jake replied. “Same price as one that is fancy, though.”

  Ruby returned then with a long length of rawhide cord. “Stand up,” she said. Bret got to his feet, and she used the cord as a measuring tape, tying a knot in it for each measurement taken. In a matter of seconds, there was a knot after the length of his arm, another after the length of his leg, and so on until she had all the measurements she needed on one length of cord. “Two days,” she said when finished, then left them to drink their coffee.