Stingy fingers of dawn crept over the mountaintops and lit the tips of the tallest pines covering the slope where Little Wolf had made their camp. Below him, in the little valley, he could just begin to make out the separate forms of the cottonwoods that guarded the stream. He could not see Tobin’s body yet, but he felt peace knowing it was there. The thought caused him to turn his head to gaze down at Rain Song, who was still sleeping. As if she felt his thoughts, she opened her eyes and gazed up at him. A smile immediately began to spread when she awakened to see her husband.
“Are you going to sleep all day?” He attempted to make a stern face for her but was unable to keep the smile from his face. “I was about to leave you here and go to King George’s land alone.”
“Do not tease.” She got to her feet and came to him. Putting her arms around him, she held him tightly. “Never, never leave me again,” she said, sighing.
He gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “We must go now. The soldiers may be here soon, looking for the big one.”
From shades of gray, the valley accepted the daily ritual of sunup and soon it was light enough to clearly see the grove of cottonwoods. Leading his horse, they made their way down to the valley once more to recover the elk robe they had made a bed with. Rain Song shook her head and sighed as she held it up to examine the pattern of bulletholes, bullets that had been meant for them. They had very few supplies, so the robe would have to do until they found a place that was safe for them. Then Little Wolf would provide her with as many hides as she wanted.
Little Wolf retrieved Tobin’s weapons and stripped his body of any items that might prove useful to them. He loaded them, along with the elk hide, onto his horse. “We need another horse,” he said as he helped Rain Song up into the saddle. He climbed up behind her and turned the Appaloosa toward the north and a new life.
Walking the horse through the high grass of the valley floor, they were within a hundred yards of the tree-covered slopes again when they heard the short snap of a lead slug just over their heads, followed almost immediately by the report of the rifle. Looking back, he saw the advanced scout of the cavalry as he prepared to shoot again. This time, the shot was to the right of them. Behind the scout, galloping from the south end of the valley, he saw the column of troopers coming on fast.
He gave the Appaloosa his heels and the horse responded immediately, thrashing through the grass that whipped against his chest and forelegs. The soldiers were closer than he had suspected, and now they were going to have to run for it. The trees were not far and he made for them immediately. But he knew that his horse was carrying too great a load to attempt to outrun the soldiers. If he could gain just a little more time, he was confident he could lose them in the mountains.
They galloped into the trees with the troopers no more than two hundred yards behind. As soon as they entered the pines, Little Wolf leaped from the horse and quickly gave Rain Song instructions. “Go as fast as you can. Follow the slope up toward the ridge to your right. I’ll hold the soldiers off until you are well away. I’ll come after you as soon as I can.”
“Little Wolf, no!” she started but he silenced her protests.
“Go!” he said sternly. “It’s our only chance. I’ll find you.” He slapped the Appaloosa on the rump and the horse bolted away. Taking both his and Tobin’s rifles, he ran to a position behind a fallen tree and prepared to stop the soldier’s advance.
“He’s gone to ground!” an excited trooper shouted. “We got him now!”
“Hold your fire!” Brice ordered and halted the column. He reined up beside the forward scout and dismounted, his eyes searching the trees for sight of the Cheyenne.
“He’s holed up behind that big log yonder,” the trooper said, pointing toward the fallen tree.
Baskin moved up to join Brice. “He’s looking to pin us down out here in the grass while his woman gets away.”
“Looks like,” Brice answered. “Hold your fire,” he repeated the order. “Where the hell is Tobin? Any sign of him?” he asked.
“No telling where that coyote is.” Baskin began to get a little nervous when Brice gave no further orders for a few moments. “This here grass ain’t the best cover for a skirmish line, Lieutenant.”
Brice didn’t answer him. Instead he continued to stare at the tree trunk where Little Wolf waited. Exactly what is your crime? Protecting your wife, avenging your friends, protecting yourself from those who have hunted you. You have killed soldiers, but what could we expect, since you were raised a Cheyenne. Many of the men in my own company were once my enemies during the rebellion. They were given their freedom. Why not you? All you want is to be left alone. He might be court martialed for doing it, but Brice knew what he must do.
“Brice, goddam, let’s do something.”
Brice looked quickly at Paul. “All right.” Then he turned to Sergeant Baskin. “Sergeant, have the men fall back out of rifle range.” He looked behind them. “Back to the edge of those cottonwoods by the stream.”
Baskin didn’t understand. “Fall back? Ain’t we gonna go after that bastard? Hell, we’ve finally got him treed.”
Brice shook his head. “No, we can’t chase him anymore, and if we stay out here, he’s gonna start picking us off one by one.”
“Can’t chase him anymore?” Baskin was thoroughly confused. “Why not?”
Brice looked at the sergeant with a cold eye. “Because he’s in Canada. We can’t legally follow him into Canada. Looks like he got away.”
Baskin couldn’t believe his ears. “Canada? Oh, nossir, we’re a hundred miles from Canada, and, even if he was—”
Brice cut him off. “I believe you’re confused, Sergeant. That’s Canada.” He turned to Paul. “Doesn’t that look like Canada to you, Paul?”
Paul was mystified for a second, then he smiled broadly. “Why, yes it does. I believe you’re right.” In respect for his own hide, and the possibility of this conversation being recalled in a court martial at some future date, he thought to himself that he had only said that the country looked like Canada.
Baskin, slow in perceiving but eventually getting the message, finally realized what Brice was doing. I reckon the poor bastard has had a pretty rough row to hoe with that damn Tobin riding his tail. It really didn’t matter one way or the other to him. If the lieutenant was that soft in the heart, then so be it. He ordered his men to fall back to the cottonwoods.
* * *
Puzzled by the soldiers’ curious behavior, Little Wolf held his fire and watched as the troopers withdrew to the grove of the trees where he had killed Tobin. Certain that they had surrendered the advantage they had surely held, he did not stay to question their judgment. With his two rifles in his hands, he left the cover of the log and disappeared into the thick forest behind him.
Halfway up the ridge, he encountered Rain Song waiting for him. “You did not run very far,” he scolded as he trotted up to her.
Her face reflected the joy she felt upon seeing her husband again. Her cheeks streaked with tears, she cried out, “I could not leave you again. If they kill you, then they must kill me too!” When he was beside the horse, she fell into his arms, almost causing him to lose his balance. With her arms locked tightly around his neck, she began to cry again. “I was afraid. I didn’t hear any shooting. I was afraid you had let them capture you so I could get away.”
“Come,” he said and, taking the horse’s bridle in hand, he started out along the ridge on foot. Rain Song followed closely behind. When he reached a small clearing that afforded an unrestricted view of the valley below them, he tied the horse in the trees and moved to a position where he could watch the soldiers’ activity. When Rain Song wondered why they were not hurrying to escape the troopers, he explained that he wanted to make sure they had given up the chase. In reality, his curiosity was what held him there. Why would more than twenty soldiers decide to quit the chase against one man and one woman? He glanced back at Rain Song and repeated a statement he had made earlier. “We need another horse.”
less fastidious, used a sock. Baskin carried a coffeepot when in the field, so Brice and Paul usually shared the brew with the sergeant. Brice was blowing on his first cup of the steaming liquid when a trooper came up to inform him that they were missing a horse.
When Brice and Baskin went down to check on it, they found all the horses tied to the picket line, or so they thought. But a quick count assured them that they were one short.
“Hell, I counted ’em and there’s a horse for every man,” Baskin said.
“You’re forgetting. We picked up Tobin’s horse. We should have one extra.”
“Damn, you’re right, we should have an extra horse,” Baskin said. “I’ll have somebody scout around, see if it got loose somehow.”
Brice and Paul stood by the fire and finished breakfast while some of the men searched for the missing mount. After a half hour, Baskin came back to tell them the search was in vain. The horse had obviously been stolen and there was little doubt as to who the thief was.
“It was Daisy,” Baskin said, attempting unsuccessfully to keep from smiling—his eyes glued to Paul Simmons’s face in gleeful anticipation of the outburst that was sure to come. He was not to be disappointed.
“What?” Paul exploded. “Daisy! Are you sure?”
“Yessir,” Baskin tried to deadpan, but the smile spread across his weathered features.
“Oh, no—oh, shit,” Paul groaned. “That whole picket line of horses, and he took the only one in the entire army that doesn’t hate me.” He turned to Brice for help. The desperation in his eyes caused Brice to smile broadly. “Oh, it’s funny all right.” Brice and Baskin broke into laughter but Paul could not appreciate the irony. “What the hell am I gonna do?”
“Don’t worry, Paul. You won’t have to walk back. You can ride that big buckskin of Tobin’s. He looks gentle enough.”
* * *
More than twelve miles to the north, Rain Song swayed in rhythm with the gentle motion of the docile mare as she followed Little Wolf’s Appaloosa down a wooded hillside. Before them, the snow-capped mountains in the distance stood tall like silent sentinels, promising protection in their vast wilderness. This time she knew they would find their place. She could feel it in her bones.
Little Wolf looked back at his wife and smiled when her eyes brightened in response. Like her, he had a feeling deep inside that this new land would bring them the peace they had sought for so many years. While he felt at peace with himself now, there was also a feeling of sadness in his heart. For his mind journeyed back to the early years and the many souls who had died along the way—friends who had ridden the warpath with him, loved ones who had been sacrificed for the white man’s Manifest Destiny. But it was a white man who filled most of his thoughts, more so than even his brother, Tom—Squint Peterson, the old scout who longed most for the peace Little Wolf and Rain Song were now in search of. He missed Squint—he would always miss him—the huge grizzly bear of a man who never gave up in his efforts to persuade Little Wolf to return to the white man’s world. Looking back at Rain Song again, he knew one thing to be true, I am Cheyenne. I can never be anything else.
He turned his face toward the north once more, and with his wife behind him, Little Wolf, Cheyenne, son of Spotted Pony, rode down into a green valley that would lead them to a land of shining mountains and lakes shimmering in the morning sun, of mighty rivers and rushing streams, a land where a weary warrior might rest.