Evening was drawing near. Both Carl Bell and Henry Smith were huddled together at the outskirts of their camp, rifles held ready. Red Hawk stood directly behind them.
Said Red Hawk, “You both hold your weapons well, and standing still, you are both good shots. But it is rare that one can remain in one spot in the midst of a battle. Therefore, you must practice becoming more proficient while moving, even while running. I have set up two posts in the middle of the field. You must practice hitting those posts while at a full run.”
Carl shook his head. “But that’s impossible,” he said skeptically. “How can a man aim and get in a good shot when on the run?”
Instead of explaining, Red Hawk let out a war cry, startling the other two. He jumped forward, around the two of them. Sprinting toward the targets, Red Hawk pulled his bow and arrows from around his back, took what appeared to be casual aim and hit both targets within seconds, one right after the other.
When he returned to the two men, Henry asked, “How did you do that? And so quickly?”
“With intention. That is how you fight a battle. You take aim, yes, but a man must never fail to intend to hit his target. It is this that makes the difference between a good shot, one who brings home meat to his family, and one who returns home empty-handed.”
“But,” said Henry, “at least you were able to see the target. That night when we were attacked, we couldn’t.”
“It does not matter.” Red Hawk shrugged. “Under such conditions, a man might use instinct, he might call upon his spirit helpers to give aid, but one thing he would never fail to do is to intend to hit the target at which he is aiming.”
Henry nodded. “All right. I’ll try it. I’ll practice it. What can it hurt?”
Carl was more reluctant to agree, but eventually he too nodded.
So it came about that each evening the three of them set up practice. That a camaraderie of sorts sprang up between them was only to be expected.
What wasn’t expected, however—at least by Henry and Carl—was that within only a matter of days, both of them were making those shots too.
“Who do you think attacked us?”
“I do not know.”
Another cool, moonlit evening was spread out before them. As Effie and Red Hawk stood in the shadow of one of the wagons, the languid breeze of evening blew the scents of balsam, pine and prairie grass upon them. It also brought with it the delicious smell of roast duckling.
In the center of their camp a fire was blazing, throwing out indiscriminate warmth and sparks on this refreshing Montana night. The two married couples, as well as Mr. Owens and Fieldman, were sitting around the fireside, looking as though they might sleep right where they sat.
It was the first time Effie and Red Hawk had been alone since the night of their attack, almost five days ago. The camp had been cleaned, the wagon wheels repaired, their equipment and papers restored and their defenses strengthened by finding the missing ammunition.
“Isn’t it strange that whoever attacked us,” said Effie, “didn’t take anything, not even our weapons? Certainly, we had to search to locate many of the valuables, since our ammunition and a few other items had been hauled almost a mile from camp. But everything was left intact. What do you make of it, Mr. Hawk?”
“I do not know what to think of it. ’Tis strange behavior indeed. Stranger still that I have found no clues of an enemy. There were no tracks for me to discover, not even the downturn of a blade of grass to show the direction the enemy came from or took in retreat.”
She nodded. “Did you scout to our rear, then?”
“Aa, ’tis so. I can make no sense of the clues left me. Except perhaps one. I hesitate to mention it, however, because I think it unlikely to serve any purpose.”
“But there is a clue? What is it?”
He pointed toward the north side of their camp. “A boulder was split in two over there. And in that direction…” he pointed to the east, “…Mother Earth was overturned as though a white man’s plow had been taken to her. It required great force to do these things, and yet again, there are no tracks.”
“Hmmm. What do you suspect?”
“Maybe there are good scouts who are helping the person who seeks these…” Gently, he touched her waist, where she kept the artifacts hidden.
The graze was innocent, yet he was pleased to note that despite this, she scooted in closer to him. “Could it be that the sheriff is following us? That maybe he’s hired a few scouts?”
“It could be,” said Red Hawk. “But if this is so, he has hired some very good guides. Do you think many were for hire in Virginia City?”
She paused for a second, then, “I didn’t find any.”
He nodded.
“Where do we go from here?”
“We move on,” said Red Hawk. “Whoever it is, or whatever it is, will either give up and leave us alone or will try the same thing again. Next time we will be more prepared.”
“Yes. I have been thrilled to see how expert both Henry and Carl have become on their watches—and in only a matter of days.”
“Aa, it is true. These men will be more able to mount a defense, if there is another attack in the making. And if this thing is human, we will stand a better chance of besting it.”
“What do you mean, if this thing is human?”
He didn’t answer; he merely frowned.
“Mr. Hawk?”
“I hesitate to put my thoughts into words until I learn more.”
“Learn more of what?”
Red Hawk wasn’t ready to answer any further questions on the subject, and he just shook his head. “And now, it is time for you to retire.”
“Humph!” she uttered. “I suppose you want me to sleep while you go on ahead and scout out the trail for tomorrow?”
“Aa, such things must be done.”
“May I go with you this time?”
“Not tonight. I would finish my work as quickly as I might. But do not fret. There are many more evenings ahead of us.”
“Yes, Mr. Hawk, there certainly are.”
Perhaps it was the way in which he had expressed himself. Maybe not. But seeming to realize that his mind was set on the subject and there was nothing more to discuss about it, she simply said good night and started to leave.
He grabbed hold of her arm, keeping her back. “You forgot something.”
“Oh? Did I?”
“Aa, ’tis so.” Bending toward her, he kissed her soundly on the lips and hugged her close to him. “Sleep well.” He gave her rump a little pat.
“Sir?” She backed up from him. She accompanied the word with a smile, and, turning away from him, stepped to her tent. However, before she pulled the flap back and ducked into the interior of the flimsy structure, she looked over her shoulder. Shyly, she waved at him.
Red Hawk didn’t return the gesture. Instead, he sighed.
The land over which they rode was awe-inspiring, as they traveled through one natural-made cathedral after another. The countryside was big, massive, spacious, and it was brilliant with luxuriant greenery. From lakes as blue as the deep, azure color of the sky, to the valleys where patches of green were emblazoned with winding, meadow streams, they treaded over a land that seemed more fairy tale than real. Craggy, snow-topped mountains and pine-covered hills were ever in the distance, and each day brought a new splendor that seemed even more spectacular than the last.
The meadows abounded with wildlife as well. Buffalo were everywhere, as were moose, dear, elk and antelope. Once, a few days back, as she and the other women had been gathering wild berries, Red Hawk had instructed them on the proper manner in which to greet a bear, should they come across one.
“Look him in the eye,” he had said, “do not challenge him, and do not smile. Simply look at him, and do not avert your gaze. Since it is the height of summer and the bears are not starved from their winter sleep, they should not attack.”
Because she preferred to walk instead of ride in the wagons, Effie still remembered the day when they had crossed a stream that was hot at its very bottom and cool on top. She had at once reckoned that the riverbed must be a place where some hot spring emptied. Briefly, she had wondered about the stream’s medicinal powers, but when their party had forged on ahead, she had forgotten to ask Red Hawk about it.
There were birds everywhere, as well, and she was getting accustomed to being awakened by the magic of their songs and lulled to sleep at night by their calls. Eagles and hawks flocked the skies during the day, their majestic presence always inspiring wonder. Even Red Hawk paid them tribute, stopping whatever he was doing to gaze up at them. Often, he would sing to them.
When she had queried him about such unusual behavior, wondering why he would sing when the creatures obviously could not hear him, he had told her, “We honor the eagle, for he will often alert you to an enemy. If they will not fly over a particular area, you can know that there lies an enemy. And do you know as a fact that they cannot hear me or know of my admiration?”
“Well…no.”
He hadn’t spoken another word on the subject, but had rather gone on about his duties.
He had educated her about many other birds, as well. “The nepe-e, or as you call it, the white-throated sparrow, speaks Blackfeet. We all understand his song, and the black breast—or longspur—sings a melody that means, ‘Spread out your blanket and I will light upon it.’ But the bird that we think is wisest of all is the raven. We look to him to tell us the future. If he lights upon your trail and puts his head together with another raven, an enemy is close by. You should seek cover.”
“Truly?”
“Aa.”
At present, they had come to a stream, home to several beavers.
“Look there.” Red Hawk had reined in his pony and had dropped back to her, since she accompanied the last wagon. She was on foot and was holding on to their horse, as though to guide it. Carl Bell, with reins in hand, was driving the wagon, while John Owens sat next to him. They were awaiting their turn at crossing the river.
Pointing to a particular beaver, Red Hawk said, “Watch ksis-atukki closely.”
“Ksis-atukki?”
“It means Cuts Trees with His Teeth, or, as you call it, beaver. But notice this one. He is unusual.”
She looked where he indicated. The beaver in question was industriously attempting to fell a tree. But the tree wasn’t going anywhere.
After quite a bit of work, the animal moved to another side of the tree and began chipping away. All to no result.
In a moment, the creature stepped back away from the tree and scratched his head, just like a person might do. Once again, he tried to gnash away at the tree from another position. Still the tree stood, firmly planted. Again, the beaver backed up and repeated the entire process.
“Oh, my dear Lord,” said Effie. “He acts like a human being.”
“He does. It is one of the reasons we Blackfeet consider the beaver to be a sacred being.”
“Do you?”
“Aa, ohkiimaan.”
Gazing up at him, she asked, “What does that word mean?”
“Ohkiimaan?”
“Yes.”
Leaning down, he whispered to her, “It means my wife.” Without awaiting her reaction, he winked at her, set his pony away from her and trotted to the lead wagon and horse, where he took hold of the animal and began leading it toward the other shoreline.
Effie watched Red Hawk for quite some time. His was a proud figure as he disappeared out in front of her. She feared she was growing more and more attached to him.
How could she not? The man was gentle and kind in word and deed, but he was also rough when he had to be, wise when others were demonstrating their stupidity and never did a word of complaint cross his lips.
She shook her head. Was she out of her mind, not accepting his proposal?
Red Hawk signaled it was their turn to cross the river, and while he turned around, reining his horse back across the water toward them, Effie guided their horse out into the deep stream.
Crash!
A tree fell behind her, and she wondered if the beaver had at last won his prize.
But then, crash! Down came another tree. A shot blasted through the air, sounding much like a lightning strike. At that same moment, something whizzed past her. Had it been a bullet?
Meanwhile Red Hawk was whipping his pony across the water toward them, his arms waving in the air. He was yelling at her, and she could barely hear him, but she thought he was saying, “Hold on to the horse, Effie, and get across this river now.”
“Yah! Yah!” He fought with his pony to increase her speed, even though the animal was bounding through the creek’s current as quickly as she could.
But Red Hawk was still too far away from her. The horse she was leading was frightened, and in reaction it reared. Though the water cushioned the animal’s strength, Effie had no choice but to lunge away from it.
Carl tried to rein in the horse. He was on his feet, and Effie could see that every muscle in his body was strained. Owens sat helplessly, his hands white from clutching his seat.
Another blast sounded behind her, causing the horse to panic more and Effie to dive even farther away from it. Another something flew past her, but this time, Effie wasn’t certain it had been a bullet. It seemed bigger.
Luckily she was unharmed by both the horse and the shot. But then, perhaps she had thought too soon.
Screams from the other women told her that something terrible had happened. Looking forward, she was in time to watch Red Hawk’s pony go down. With horror, she saw him sink along with it.
“Red Hawk!” she added her screams to the others’. She tried to run, but only managed to push uselessly through the rushing stream. “Red Hawk!” she shrieked again.
Flailing her arms, she fought through the water until she reached his side. Luckily, Henry Smith had braved the stream from the other side and helped drag Red Hawk toward the shore.
Struggling with him through the river, panic turned to terror, and some barrier broke free within her. As one thought after another rushed through her mind, she knew she had been foolish. She loved this man. Certainly, she had always been enchanted by him. No doubt she had loved him when she had given herself to him so freely.
But adoration seemed to come wrapped in many different layers. What had once appeared as a mild infatuation was in reality as hot and wild as an exploding volcano. She loved him. Nothing, not even this all-consuming dig, was more important than he was.
Meanwhile, Red Hawk’s pony had come to her feet and had drifted back to the shore. Red Hawk, however, appeared to be unconscious.
“Red Hawk!” she cried out his name, then in a little softer voice, “Red Hawk.”
No answer.
“Henry,” she said, “in your wagon is a medicine kit. Go fetch it for me, please.”
Immediately, he did as bid. Meanwhile, Effie smoothed her hands over every part of Red Hawk’s body, seeking evidence of an injury. She found none.
But his eyes were closed, and he wasn’t uttering a word. Was he merely unconscious?
Or was it worse?
Frantically, she unfastened his blue and white choker, pushing it out of the way, as she pressed her hands against his neck. The pulse was weak, causing her uncertainty if it was even there. She tore off his shirt, feeling for a heartbeat, her fingers entangling with the necklace she had once given him. She pushed the necklace to the side and fumbled over his chest, hunting for a heartbeat.
At last, she found it. She exhaled deeply.
Next, she rubbed her hands over his head, her fingers searching for an injury. In falling had his head hit something? A rock? Wouldn’t the water have cushioned the fall enough to render him little harm?
“Red Hawk, can you hear me?” She picked up his hand, holding it in both of hers. “Don’t you dare frighten me so. And don’t you dare leave me.”
There was no response.
She had to determine if he had hit his head, and as gently as possible, she felt behind and discovered a rather large lump, there on the back side. But it wasn’t from the fall. Something had grazed him, had come dangerously close to killing him.
What was she to do? He continued to be unresponsive to her.
Still holding his hand, she said, “Red Hawk, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”
For several moments, nothing happened, but then she felt a light pressure from his fingers.
He groaned, and Effie almost cried. It wasn’t long before he opened his eyes. Looking straight up at her, he took a deep breath, and said, “Are you all right?”
What a question. She almost laughed. “I’m fine,” she said, half crying. “But I fear that you have fallen from your horse.”
“Aa, I think I am aware of that.”
Tentatively, she asked, “Can you move your legs?”
He lifted his feet, then he bent his knees. “I can.”
“And how about your arms? Can you lift both of them?”
He held up first one, and then the other, bringing her hands right along with him. “I can do that also. Should I try to sit up?”
She didn’t answer because he did so at once, though he did grab hold of his head in the process.
“Did someone hit me?” he asked. “It feels like I have been in a battle.”
“Apparently, something grazed you a little too closely.” She indicated the spot without touching it. “I will need to clean the wound. Look at me, for I must stare deeply into your pupils. Oh, dear,” she complained, after a moment, “I’m afraid it’s almost impossible to see the pupils of your eyes, the iris is so dark.”
At that moment, the sky rumbled, and looking up, she was amazed to discover that clouds had gathered above them. Where had those storm clouds come from? And so quickly?
Gradually, Red Hawk rose to his feet, and as Henry rushed to her with the medicine kit, Red Hawk asked, “Where is my pony?”
Spying the animal, she pointed and said, “She is over there, grazing.”
Even though Effie tried to hold him back, Red Hawk was already striding away from her.
“Red Hawk.” She came to her feet and rushed after him. “Don’t walk away from me. I need to sterilize that wound.”
“It will hold,” he said, not even looking at her.
“But what are you doing? Only moments ago, you were unconscious. I need to make sure you are fine.”
“I am fine.”
“But I need to make sure.”
“When I have finished with what I must do, you can then attend to me. In the meanwhile, I think I know who is following us, and if I am right—and I believe I am—it is only I who can handle him.”
“But—”
“You must become the leader of these wagons, Miss Effie.” He gazed at her with concern. “Please lead the wagons in a northerly direction until you find a good place to camp. Ensure it is near water. You are still in Crow country, and they are friendly. You will be fine.”
“But—”
“If I do not return in a few days’ time, keep heading straight north. Keep to the trails. You will soon find your way to the Gates of the Rocky Mountains.”
“But—”
“Do not try to stop me. If I am right, this is something only I can do.”
“Then you know who is doing this to us?”
“I think that I do.”
“Well, who is it? And don’t you want to take Henry or Carl with you as protection?”
“I need no one else. Besides, you will require them more than I, in case I do not return.”
“Do not say that. And I’m not so certain we cannot do without them.”
“They stay.”
“All right,” she said. “Then take me. I would help you, as you have helped me.”
“Saa. ’Tis one battle I must fight on my own.”
“Then before you go, I think you should be aware that I have decided something.”
“Ho!”
“I have decided I will marry you. We will need to find a preacher in order to make it legal. We will have to find a place to live where people are not horribly prejudiced. But, Red Hawk, I’m in love with you. I cannot live without you.”
For one entire heartbeat, Red Hawk looked as though he had found heaven. But then, glancing away from her, he said, “I love you too. But I cannot stay here now. I must go.”
“Take me.”
“I cannot.”
“Why? Who is it that is doing this?”
“’Tis my own enemy,” he said solemnly. “’Tis the one I have waited all my life to battle.”
“Yes?”
“’Tis the Thunderer.”