Taylor and Barclay reached the creek before sunup and slowly followed along its banks. Bullfrogs jumped at their approach, making widening circles as they splashed into the muddy water. Nearby an owl hooted his disapproval at their intrusion onto his hunting ground, and somewhere in the distance coyotes howled.
“Might be a smart idea to dismount and walk the horses,” Barclay said. “We’re gettin’ close.”
They traveled afoot for an hour before he signaled for Taylor to stop. “Smell that?” he said. “Mesquite burning. Somebody’s gettin’ the fires ready.” In the first hint of daylight, they could see thin trails of white smoke rising in the distance.
Leaving their horses tethered, they silently followed the flow of the creek, careful not to emerge from the shadows of the trees. A gray dawn was approaching as they reached the top of a small rise that finally gave them a view of the Comanche camp. Below, a flurry of activity was under way.
Teepees were being dismantled, their poles stacked into neat piles. Sleds made of buffalo hides lashed to the long trunks of red oak saplings were being hitched behind horses and mules. Women and children collected items they were to carry.
“They’re breaking camp,” Taylor whispered as he lay prone beside Barclay. “Reckon something spooked ’em?”
“Something or somebody.”
• • •
The previous evening, as Hawk and his followers sat around a council fire, Kate Two had played her role as Talks With Spirits with dramatic flair. Late in the afternoon she had announced that she had been summoned into the nearby hills to speak with the spirits and would return at nightfall to pass along their message. The ceremonial fire was already casting shadows when she rode out of the darkness into the camp. Her hair was now in braids, her cheeks were lined with yellow war paint, and in one hand she carried a lance.
She dismounted and walked to where Hawk waited, and stabbed the spear into the ground. “The almighty spirits have spoken,” she said, “and you are to relay their words.”
She talked slowly to allow him to translate. “The forefathers are not pleased,” she began. “They say you are fighting your battles against the white man in a foolish way. You have only attacked their homes and taken things of too little value. The time has come to show new courage.”
Pacing among the mesmerized warriors, she told of greater opportunities that waited on the plains south of the Red River. “If you are to be successful and grow in number, you must follow the spirit father’s wishes and more boldly attack your enemy. You must raid his towns, his wagon trails, his stagecoaches. You must take more than his few horses and mules. You must take his money, for it is his true power.”
Though she had no actual knowledge of such things, she said that the spirits had described to her large herds of buffalo that waited in Texas. To the south there would be no more hunger.
And then for a moment she fell silent, letting her eyes roam the nodding faces of the young warriors. Only the crackling of the fire broke the silence.
Finally she turned to face Hawk, a slight smile spreading across her painted face. “The spirits spoke of one other thing,” she said. “It is their wish that I lead you on this new journey.”
Hawk’s jaws tightened as he glared at the white woman. He rose and quickly disappeared into the darkness. He had not translated her final words, but to those assembled the message was clear.
• • •
For some time Taylor and Barclay lay watching the activity prompted by Kate Two’s grand performance.
“If one of us had a lick of good sense,” Barclay said, “we woulda brung some field glasses along with us.”
“Where do you think they’re heading?”
“To the south, most likely. Down toward the Red River and as far away from Indian Territory as they can get.”
Taylor’s hand gripped Barclay’s arm. With the other he pointed. “That’s her,” he said. Though the distance was too great to be certain, Thad was convinced that the figure he was looking at was a woman, dressed in buckskins and sitting astride a small paint. He was equally certain it was the same woman he’d long ago encountered in the Benders’ way station. Across her shoulder was a rifle.
Barclay shielded his eyes and squinted. “Seems to me she’s ordering folks about,” he said. “Huh. Not exactly what you’d expect of a white woman held against her will.”
• • •
They watched in silence as the caravan slowly began to move southward, Kate Two riding point. In the rear, walking among the children and dogs, was another woman. Even from a distance the men could see that her shoulders were slumped, her steps a weary shuffle.
“It appears,” Barclay said, “that we found those we’ve been looking for.”
They waited until the Comanches had disappeared beyond the horizon before leaving their position and walking down to the abandoned campsite. Aside from the gray ashes of the campfires and cleared ground that had been reduced to red powder, there was little to indicate that anyone had ever been there.
Barclay looked in the direction the Indians had taken and shook his head. “Never figured on livin’ long enough to see a sight like that,” he said. “A bunch of savages being led off by a white woman. She must have some mighty convincin’ powers.”
“Could be they come to her from those dead people she claims to have conversations with.”
Barclay snorted. “These Comanches might be a mean lot and the best horsemen around—and I’m includin’ Union and Confederate cavalry—but ain’t nobody ever claimed they’re smart thinkers. What they don’t seem to know is they’re likely to meet up with a heap of trouble if they’re going into Texas. There’s bluecoats down there who can’t wait to shoot ’em dead and be done with it.
“Ever since President Grant got fed up with all the broken peace treaties and commissioned that Civil War hero Mackenzie to round up those hostiles still terrorizing settlers, a sizable number of Indians have gotten themselves killed. And from what I hear, it ain’t going to be over until there’s none left.”
“So, how does that help us with what we’re attempting to do?”
“It might be that once we find out where these people are gonna settle, we can find some help,” Barclay said. “Seems it would be a wiser choice than tryin’ to do it on our own and gettin’ ourselves scalped. For the time being, though, all we can do is just keep following along until we figure a way to get our business done.”
Taylor said nothing. The hard miles they had traveled had finally led them to their destination. Now it was again moving out of reach. He wondered if their journey would ever end. On the other hand, he had come to a new realization as he’d watched the small band take leave of its camp. When he’d seen the Bender woman, the hatred he’d nurtured rose briefly in his chest. Then it was replaced by another emotion at the sight of Jakey’s mother being forced to march along behind the renegades. His thoughts returned to the young boy, scared and clad in overalls, acting far more courageous that his age required. And at that moment he realized that it was no longer Kate Two who was the reason for his quest.
• • •
As they walked toward the creek, the silence was broken by the sound of a flock of buzzards taking flight. Reaching the bank, they saw a naked body floating facedown in the shallow stream. “Looks like somebody got left behind,” Barclay said.
Taylor removed his boots and waded into the water. As he dragged the body to the bank and turned it over, he could see that the dead Indian’s eyes were still open, his mouth agape. Across his throat was a jagged gash.
“If I’m guessin’ right as to who this might be,” Barclay said, “it seems someone’s done ol’ Boone Stallings a great favor.”
“You saying this is the man he called Hawk?”
Barclay nodded. “Used to be.”
“What do you reckon we ought to do with him?”
“Seems to me the buzzards was here first.”
• • •
Kate Two pulled her hat far down on her forehead as she watched from a sandbar while her new followers forded the shallow Red River. The water came only to the knees of those who shouldered the party’s few belongings, carrying them into a land that the United States government had forbidden them to enter. The river formed a border between the Indian Territory and the new state of Texas—and for those who ignored the edict to stay out, dire consequences dealt by trained regiments of Indian fighters were promised.
The children waited on the opposite bank until they were lifted onto horses and ridden across. At their sides, the dogs swam the short distance. July Barstow, exhausted and light-headed from the heat, held to the tail of one of the horses as she followed along, her tattered dress soaked by the muddy water, her bare feet burying into the sandy river bottom with each step.
That the ragtag band of renegades had so willingly agreed to follow her had come as a welcome surprise to Kate Two. Though confident in her ability to manipulate and control, she had taken a big chance when she announced that she had been chosen to replace Hawk as their leader. That his warriors—a few who understood bits of English—had embraced the notion, she felt, was a testimony to their utter stupidity and willingness to believe that she was actually in possession of mystical powers. When she explained that the spirit fathers had called Hawk on the Hill into the clouds, there to receive their wisdom before he returned, none had questioned.
If things went as she hoped, she would need to carry out the ruse only a while longer.
For many nights, while lying next to Hawk, she had plotted a way to escape the squalor of Indian life and return to the world she’d previously known. Now she had finally put the plan into motion.
The only truth she had spoken the night she stood before the council fire was that money was what empowered the white man. For her to make her escape, she would need that empowerment as well. A few successful raids, she hoped, would accomplish that goal. Then it would be time to lead her followers into the hands of the Indian fighters. The role she would then play would be that of a helpless captive in need of being saved from the heartless savages.
• • •
The caravan followed an old buffalo trail for the remainder of the day, reaching an isolated canyon just before sundown. Though fires were started, the only food available was smoked strips of horse meat and wild berries collected along the way. In a nearby stream, horses were watered as the weary travelers washed the dust and mud from their bodies. With no time to erect the teepees before dark, buffalo skins were spread on the ground for sleeping.
At first light, Kate Two told the warriors that scouts would be sent out to locate the nearest settlement or farm with livestock that could be stolen and herded back to camp.