The Maiden Fawn
Sam found Jim Bridger’s cabin and moved in. While Sam was setting up his shop in the Sutlers store, he asked Mr. Tuller if he knew of someone to help him write a letter to send to Jake Hawkins in St Louis?
“My wife can help you, she teaches at the fort school. When do you want to write this letter? You’ll have to send it soon. The mail only goes once a month. The last will go soon. There’ll be no more mail till spring.”
Sam wanted to get more tools sent from Jake, he needed to send a letter right away. “I have a few tools but will need more to do a good job.”
Mrs. Tuller came in that afternoon and asked Sam if he could write. “Not very well,” he admitted. This woman in her mid fifties, shiny black hair and a ready smile said she would write the letter for him.
This winter she would help teach him to write, if he wanted. Sam told her his Ma had started to teach him before she passed. “I can write my name,” he said proudly.
“That’s great. Let’s get going on your letter this evening.”
“I’ve moved my belongings into a cabin west of the store. I’ll come back this evening. We can do the letter then.”
Sam was very impressed with Mrs. Tuller. She was a woman with a fast and witty mind. Reminded him of his Ma. He often thought of his Ma and Pa, and Jack.
Mrs. Tuller had brought a book of a-b-c’s and a primer for Sam to take and study. “Read these books as best you can and I’ll help you all I can.” She asked Sam to call her Amanda.
Sam asked if she and Mr. Tuller had any children. “No.” She told him she had lost a boy baby some years earlier. “He would be about your age now, we’ve never had another, I can’t have children. It almost killed Mr. Tuller when the baby died. Please never ask Mr. Tuller about him.” Sam promised he wouldn’t say anything.
The letter got finished and was mailed the next day. Sam asked for wood stock tools, a vice, and any other tools Jake would think he would need to complete his shop. He wrote that freight wagons would be coming in the spring. “Be sure to let me know how much I will owe you. Money will be sent right back.”
The next day a light snow was falling. Sam was on the roof of the cabin doing some repair and didn’t hear the horseback riders come up.
“What the hell you’s doing on my cabin?” a loud voice almost sent him off the roof. Sam turned to see a white man with a long beard and several Indians on horseback looking at him.
“What the hell does it look like? I’m trying to patch a hole in this damn old roof.”
“You know who’s cabin this is?” the old white man asked.
“An old trapper named Jim Bridger, I was told. Folks said he wasn’t use-n it no more, if he comes I’ll see him about it.”
“Wa’ll you’re a looking at him, get your ass down here and we’ll talk.” The man sounded angry.
Sam dropped to the ground and stood before the man on horse back. “You old Gabe?”
“Who the hell are you?”
“Sam, Sam Duncan, you knew my Pa.”
The old man was off his horse in a shot and giving Sam a big bear hug. “How the hell is your Pa?”
Sam told him that his Pa had passed some time ago. Gabe wiped his nose on his coat sleeve, with his eyes full of tears, he told Sam his Pa was one of the finest men he had ever known. “What in God’s name you doing here at Fort Laramie a fix-n this old cabin?”
“I planned to stay the winter and live here in this cabin if you don’t care.”
“Hell no. I’m living with the snakes and have a warm lodge and a warm woman, no man can ask for more.” He reared back and laughed until his whole body shook. The Indian horsemen all laughed with him. It was so funny Sam began to laugh too.
Gabe finally controlled himself and suggested going in the cabin and have some coffee and a snort, Sam had a pot made, Gabe and the Indians had the snort. The Indians and Gabe enjoyed the coffee so much Sam had to make another pot.
Gabe offered a snort to Sam. “I never been a drinking man, it don’t like me and I don’t like it.”
“Ever man to his own poison, I always says.” Gabe reared back and laughed and laughed. The Indians laughed with him, Sam laughed too, it was all very humorous.
Gabe told Sam that he was going to be the chief of scouts for Fort Laramie the coming spring. “How you’s like to scout for me?” he asked.
“I know nothing about scouting, but I’m sure willing to learn.”
“I have one of the best durn scouts a comm-n to work for me this spring, Old Lonesome Charley Reynolds. I’ll pair you’s up with him, He’s the best. If-n you’s like your Pa, it won’t take you’s long to larn this scout-n business.” Gabe said as he shook Sam’s shoulder.
Sam told him he could count on him. “I’m a looking forward to it.”
Gabe said Sam could have the cabin. “Fix her tight as it’s gonna be a cold windy winter. What you’s need is a damn good woman, they makes them winter nights a hole lot better.” He sat back and laughed again, so did the Indians. Gabe told Sam they had to get a going. “Gotta make thirty miles before resting. I’ll be a seeing you’s when the snow melts.”
Gabe and his Indian companions mounted and rode off toward the west. Sam watched them go and felt a sense of loneliness for the first time since he had come west.
Sam spent all his time fixing the shop and his cabin until the snows got too deep to work on either.
The post commander heard Sam was repairing guns and sent many rifles for him to repair. Sam cut a trap door in the back wall and set a target fifty yards out so he could check his work, this went on all winter.
Mrs. Tuller and Sam became good friends as she taught him to read and write, she found he was a quick study and enjoyed her time helping him.
The spring came with heavy rain that made the trails deep in mud, the scouting didn’t start until late May.
Sam along with Charley and four Shoshone Indian scouts kept a close watch on the Cheyenne Dog Soldiers. The Dog Soldiers raided the Sioux and Blackfeet villages to take horses and captives. The war chief Rain in the Face led the warriors. As long as the Cheyenne stayed away from the Oregon Trail the white soldiers paid little attention to what they did. Old Gabe warned the new commander of Fort Laramie, Colonel Phil Sheridan that an all out war between the tribes would be forthcoming if something wasn’t done to stop the raiders. The Colonel only said, “The best Indian is a dead one.” The raids continued.
A party of commissioners was sent from Washington to try for a treaty between the tribes, to try and stop the killings between the tribes and the raids on the trail.
Old Gabe was a friend of one of the commissioners, Tom Fitzpatrick who knew Sam’s Pa, he asked Gabe and his scouts to get the Chiefs of the Sioux, Cheyenne, Arapaho and Paiute together for a friendly council meeting.
Sam was assigned four Crow scouts to help find the various Sioux clans. Iron Fist was the oldest, Black Elk was Sam’s age, the other two were young teens, Curly and White Man Runs Him.
Sam and the scouts found the clan of the old Chief Flying Eagle some eighty miles north east of Fort Laramie. Sam and Iron Fist rode right into the center of the village. They carried no weapons and raised their hands in a show of peace. It was a chance they had to take, the old chief came out and spoke to Iron Fist. “Why you come with this white man to our lodges? No white eyes should be in our country, you Crows have turned against all your Indian brothers, now you come with the Shooter to our village. Why you come?”
Sam was known as the Shooter to the Sioux, the killing of the three Cheyenne Dog soldiers on the Oregon Trail had filtered down thru the tribes, the Dog Soldiers named Sam, the white man who kills Indians.
Iron Fist told the chief the whites wanted to have another treaty with the Sioux and all the clans. A meeting was going to be held on the Little Powder Creek near the Stone Tower the First day of the new moon. “Will you come?” Iron Fist asked.
Before the chief could answer, a young warrior rode his horse hard against Sam’s, in a loud voice he told all the Indians gathered there, “I know this Shooter, soon, he will be mine.”
Iron Fist told Sam what the warrior said. Sam dropped from his horse. Pulled his belt knife and spoke, “Talk is easy.” Sam stood six feet four inches, weighed two hundred pounds. The warrior was near his equal in stature. They squared off both had knives at the ready. War hoops were heard thru out the village from the warrior braves.
Chief Flying Eagle came between the two. “No fight! These white eyes has come in peace, no fight now,” he demanded. The warrior sneered and turned away.
The chief said he would come to the meeting. Sam and Iron Fist rode safely out of the village. Iron Fist told Sam, “Is good you show no fear. That warrior is the war chief Red Cloud. He says he will drive all white eyes from this land. He is much respected by all the tribes. I say he is wrong. Our Crow Chief, Plenty Coups say too many white men to fight. They like birds of the sky. Too many to count. If we be friends, the whites will treat us well.”
Sam replied to him, “I hope your chief is right.” They talked no more of the Crow chief and his logic.
Three more villages the scouts found and made the invitation to come to the meeting. No trouble until the last clan, another brave challenged Sam. The village chief stopped the challenge, No harm was done. Iron Fist said that the War chief was Sitting Bull, another hard head who was making war talk.
Sam and the Crows returned to Fort Laramie and were told to accompany Old Gabe and the commissioners to the meeting.
The party left Fort Laramie with four officers, fifty troopers, four white scouts, twenty Indian scouts, the two commissioners with a pack train of fifty pack mules, loaded with presents for the Indians.
In three days the party made camp several miles from the meeting place. Only the officers, white scouts and the commissioners were to enter the camp of the Indians. The camp numbered more than a thousand men, women and children.
Old Gabe told Sam to stay close with his Crows. “We may need you.” That’s all he said.
Sam and the Crows moved to a wooded hillside above a creek and a half mile from the village of tepees. Sam had the Crows hobble the horses and keep guard and let the horses graze the new green grass. Sam took his bed roll and moved down the hill aways to where he could see the creek and listen to the rushing stream. He lay down and fell asleep.
Some time later he was awakened by female laughter. Looking down to the creek he could see two females bathing in the stream, standing in the water up to their knees, their naked wet bodies gleaming in the sun light. Sam could see their buckskin dresses hanging from tree branches in the woods across the stream. The girls were gently splashing each other and enjoying them- selves in the clear cool stream. The older girl was tall with soft black loose hair that hung to her hips, her creamy tan complexion, her round firm breasts and girlish laughter, set Sam’s heart beating so fast he felt it would leave his chest. Never had he seen a more beautiful woman, she looked more white than Indian. If lighting strikes a man once in his life time, it hit Sam hard that sunny bright summer day on that hill side, Sam fell deeply in love with this Indian girl.
He said to himself, “I must have her.”
One of the Crows coughed or made some noise. Sam looked to see who or what it was, when he looked back, the girls were gone. Their buckskin dresses and moccasins with the maidens, had vanished into the woods across the way.
The picture of the young Indian girl was imbedded in his mind forever. He told the Crows to stay put, he was going to the village. He crossed the stream and looked for the girl’s trail. Finding it, he followed it to the village. The sun was setting in the western sky, a huge fire was being built in the center of the village.
Sam went straight to Old Gabe and told him of the Indian maiden. “I must find this girl, I’m in love, will you help me?” he pleaded.
“Why shore Sam.” Gabe could see on Sam’s face the love bug had hit him and hit hard.
“Set yourself down with me by the fire, the Indians are gonna have a meal and a circle dance for us to see. She’ll be one of them dancers, I’ll bet my life on it.”
Sam sat crossed leg as did all the other white men. The Squaws had tin plates filled with cooked meat and a flat kinda bread served to each man. Gabe asked what was the meat. A squaw only said “bow-wow.” He asked no other questions. To Sam’s surprise a cup of coffee was given each of the men.
The Indian Men in their finest feathered war bonnets, the squaws with a feather in a head band, stood one man one squaw in a large circle around the fire, the shadows of the people made them seem larger than life.
The drums started, the dancers began their chanting “hy-ya-ya-hy-ya-ya.” They moved in a sideways dancing rhythm, the drums grew louder and louder, the chanting and dancing faster. No white man had never seen this dance before.
Sam watched intently as the dancers moved by, the smoke from the fire made his eyes water. It was hard to distinguish the dancing squaws apart. He got up and moved closer, staring closely into each squaws face as they passed, there she was, her dark eyes flashed as she passed. Sam waited, when she passed again, he entered the dance next to her. He took her hand and looking down at her, smiled the biggest smile he could make, she smiled back and he squeezed her hand hard. Old Gabe came and pulled him from the dance saying, “You’s want-a start a war here and now, them braves ain’t gonna take lightly to your love make-n, your time will come.”
Gabe made Sam set back down, and each time she passed, she turned her head and gave him a big smile. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, she was so beautiful.
Gabe put his arm around him saying, “Sam get back to your Crows, you’s gonna have a war here right now. I’ll find all about this gal you so interested in.”
Sam went back with the Crows and went to bed, he couldn’t sleep, all night he rolled and tumbled in his bed roll, he saw the maiden in his mind all thru the night. “God she is beautiful. I must try my best to have this girl.” He said this over and over to himself. “Somehow she must be mine, I’ll get Gabe to help me.”
At sunrise a scout came to tell him that the treaty was not signed, the gifts had been left in a pile in the middle of the village. Flour, tobacco, coffee and rolls of cloth were scattered all over after the Indians picked thru the piles.
The entire treaty party saddled up and started for Fort Laramie, a failed mission. Sam rode with a heavy heart.
Gabe rode up beside him. “You’s want-a hear about this gal you’re a looking for?”
“What did you learn for me Gabe?” He rode close to hear what Gabe had to tell him.
Gabe told him, “The girl’s ma was a Mexican. Captured as a small yung-n in Mexico and swapped and traded thru the tribes, as a young girl, she ended up in this Sioux tribe. Man Afraid of His Horses took her for his wife, she had a boy baby first, he’s named, Afraid of his Horses too, he’s a war chief. This gal was her second baby, her Ma died having her, she’s been raised by her Pa’s wife’s, he has four Squaws, maybe more.”
“Sam,” Gabe said, “this here gal is all Indian, I got a good look at her, she’s as purty as a picture. I’ll tell you right now she’s all Sioux and you’ll never take the Indian out-a her.”
“I don’t care, I want her, tell me Gabe, what have I gotta, do to get her?” Sam listened hard to get every word Gabe said.
Gabe looked away, a frown on his face, looked up at the sky, then he looked Sam square in the eyes. Leaned over and said, “I’m a bet-n a lot them bucks want her too, the family was camping at Fort Laramie last spring, I see-d her old Pa there, I’m a bet-n thar’ll be thar next spring. If-n she ain’t take-n by then, if-n them young bucks ain’t got her, you’s may have a chance. All you’s can do is wait and see.”
Gabe could see Sam was excited. Tell me Gabe if she ain’t married what will I have to do to get her?”
“Wa’ll I’m a gonna tell ya, Mind ya now if she ain’t been took, we’ll find out what her Pa likes. I know he wants and likes lots of ponies, we’ll find out what else he likes and I’ll tell ya, them squaws will have some-m to say. If-n they want’s to get rid of her, it’ll be easy, we’ll just have to wait and see.”
Sam shook both clinched fists and said, “By God Gabe, I’ll do my best too make it work, whatever it takes.”
The rest of the summer and into the fall the scouting was slow. Sam and his Crows had made a swing north and turned east looking for the Cheyenne dog soldiers, they were not to be found, they turned south to the Oregon Trail. Stopping on a high ridge there was a sight down on the trail he couldn’t believe, men, women and children pulling and pushing two wheel carts. There must have been near a hundred such conveyances, ever now and then a wagon and oxen was in the mix.
Sam and the Crows rode down to the trail slow. Sam kept a hand up to show they were friends. A rider came up and asked who they were. Sam told him they were scouts from Fort Laramie. Sam asked about these people. “They’re Mormons, on the way to Salt Lake City, most are from Europe. I’m hired to get-m thru, toughest bunch I ever saw, you gonna see a lot more comm-n .Their make-n them carts by the hundreds in St Joseph, next spring thar’ll be thousands a comm-n.” He asked, “How far to the Fort?”
“Yu’ll make it by noon tomorrow if-n you get an early start, I’m sure a troop will come to take you in. Have you seen any Indians?”
“No, it’s been real quite, we ain’t seen hide nor hair of red skins.”
“When we get to the fort, I’ll let the commander know you’re a comm-n.”
Sam and his Crows rode hard for Fort Laramie.