CHAPTER 7
With still some time left before having to stop for the night, Perley was surprised to see what appeared to be a building sitting close to a pond up ahead. They were not close enough yet to determine if it was a trapper’s shack or a farmhouse. As they drew closer, he could see the outline of the building more clearly through the trees between it and the road. It turned out to be larger than it had first appeared, with a barn and a couple of small outbuildings as well.
“I hope one of ’em’s an outhouse,” Liz commented. “I’m gettin’ a rash on my behind from squattin’ in the bushes so much.”
When they approached the house, they saw a small sign nailed on a corner post of the porch, proclaiming the place to be a store.
“Well, that’s a welcome sight,” Stella said. “Maybe they’ve got a few things we could use, like another coffee cup, some sugar, and some bakin’ soda for those poor biscuits.”
With concern about the three Lakota warriors they had left behind, Perley suggested that it might be a good place to camp that night. “We can give the horses a good rest,” he said. “And if those three Indians show up, they might think again about attackin’ this place.”
His suggestion was met with undisguised enthusiasm, so they turned off the road.
“Well, howdy, folks. Welcome to Duck Bend. My name’s Lou Temple. This here’s my store. You folks travelin’ to Cheyenne?”
He came out from behind the counter to meet them. A short, plump little man, bald on the top of his head with long gray hair hanging to his shoulders on the sides, he nodded to Perley but took a closer look at Liz and Stella. It was fairly obvious that he was speculating on the reason for a man and two women on horseback to be riding the road—and one of the women dressed like a man. He glanced out the door to see the extra horses they were leading.
“That’s a fact,” Perley said, answering Temple’s question. “I never traveled this road before, so I didn’t expect to see a tradin’ post between here and Cheyenne.”
“That so?” Temple replied. “I built this place before the railroad got to Cheyenne. It wasn’t even called Cheyenne then—it was Crow Creek Crossin’, and to tell you the truth, I used to do a lot more business back then.”
“I don’t suppose you sell anything for women, do ya?” Liz interrupted. “I’d sure like to get outta these men’s clothes.”
“No, ma’am, I wouldn’t have much reason to carry stuff like dresses and such, if that’s what you’re talkin’ about. I’ve got some material, if you wanna sew yourself a dress. That’s what my wife does.”
“I ain’t much for sewin’,” Liz said. “How ’bout some sugar, and a coffee cup?”
“And we need some more coffee,” Stella piped up. “We’ve been usin’ a helluva lot of that.”
“I can fix you up with those things,” Temple said. Based on the brash attitude of the two women, he was coming to a quick conclusion that they might be “working ladies.” Addressing Perley again, he commented, “You’re gonna find a lot of competition when you get to Cheyenne, but from what I hear, they can always use more.”
His remark puzzled Perley, so he asked, “Competition? Competition for what?”
“You know, for you and your ladies,” Temple said with a wink. “They’re whores, ain’t they?”
Perley suddenly realized what he meant, and he felt the blush that burned his cheeks. “No,” he blurted. “Well, yes, they are, but I ain’t got nothin’ to do with that. I’m just takin’ ’em to Cheyenne because they ran into a little trouble.”
Thoroughly enjoying Perley’s blushing, and far past giving a damn what Lou Temple thought of her or her occupation, Liz made a proposition to Temple. “That’s right. Ol’ Perley, here, ain’t got nothin’ to do with our business. He just happened to come along when we needed help and agreed to take us to Cheyenne. Me and Stella don’t need nobody to take care of our business. That bein’ said, those supplies we need . . . maybe we could work out a little trade for what we want. Whaddaya say, Lou?”
Astonished by her boldness, Temple could say nothing for a long moment, but the little man’s mind was working fast, thinking this might be an opportunity worth taking. To Liz’s surprise, he answered, “Maybe we can.”
He took a quick look over his shoulder, just in case his wife may have come in from the kitchen. Then he motioned for Liz to walk over to the far end of the counter, where he made his own proposition in hushed conversation. “I’ve got three grown sons that ain’t never had any experience with a woman, and I’m afraid if they don’t find out what to do with one pretty soon, they’re liable to dry up and die before their time.”
“Well, now, you’re right about that, all right,” Liz agreed in her most professional manner. “I’ve seen it happen. And this is your lucky day, because there ain’t nobody with more experience in startin’ young men on the right path to full manhood than me and Stella.”
“It’s gonna depend on the price,” Temple said. “I figure I oughta get a discount, seein’ as how I’m bringin’ three customers to the party.”
Their negotiations were interrupted for a few moments when a young man came through the door.
“You want Elam to shoe that mare tonight, Pa? He told me to ask you. I think he wants to do it in the mornin’.” While he waited for his father to answer, he gaped openly at the two women as if never having seen one before.
“You tell him he can wait till tomorrow,” Temple said, and the young man turned and went back out the door. Temple winked at Liz when he had gone. “He might need his strength tonight.”
“Is that one of your sons, the ones that need an education?”
“Yep,” Temple replied. “That’s Jonah, the middle boy.”
“You mighta just got yourself a reduction in the price,” Liz said with new enthusiasm for the task at hand. “Do your other two sons look like Jonah?”
“Pretty much, I reckon. They favor their mother more’n they do me,” he said.
“Well, all I can say is, your wife must be a fine-lookin’ woman,” Liz replied.
“She was in her day,” Temple said. “So, tell me what you’re needin’ to buy and we’ll see if we can strike a deal.”
Liz called off a list of the things they were short of, plus another coffee cup as well as a coffeepot she saw on a shelf behind the counter. It was larger than Perley’s small pot and would save a lot of time in the mornings. When she had finished, Temple thought about it for a few moments, realizing he was going to be giving away more than he cared to.
“I don’t know,” he finally said. “How ’bout if I give you everything you wanted but the coffeepot? And you give me three dollars for that pot?”
“Done,” she said and extended her hand.
He shook it, and there was nothing left but to make the arrangements for his sons’ classroom.
“I kinda get the idea that you don’t want your wife to know what’s goin’ on, so where are we gonna do this?” Liz asked. “We’re fixin’ to camp here tonight, ain’t we, Perley?”
She looked at Perley, who had been listening to the negotiations dumbfounded, barely able to believe what he was hearing. Naturally shy around women to begin with, he was astonished by the man’s interest in his sons’ introduction to women. If anything, it would severely damage their attitude toward any young women they might happen to meet in the future.
When he seemed to be stuck in a trance, Liz prodded him. “Ain’t we, Perley?”
“Yeah,” Perley finally answered. “We’ll make camp up the creek a ways, if that’s all right with you, Mr. Temple. That’s as far as I wanna push the horses today.”
Still somewhat astounded by the negotiations he had just witnessed, Perley’s thoughts returned to the realization that he might still have to deal with three angry Indians.
“There’s something else I need to let you know,” he said and went on to tell Temple about the encounter with Gray Wolf and his friends.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if them three weren’t the ones snoopin’ around here about a week ago,” Temple said. “My son Elam spotted ’em sneakin’ up close to the corral, but they skee-daddled quick enough when him and his brothers got their rifles after ’em.” He paused then to chuckle. “So, you stole them three horses from the Injuns while they was tryin’ to steal yours, huh? I reckon that set ’em off, all right. What’s your name, son? Did she call you Pearly?”
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Perley. Perley Gates.”
“Say what?” Temple asked, thinking he had heard wrong.
“Perley Gates,” he repeated. “Like the gates up in Heaven, only it ain’t spelled the same.”
Temple paused for a moment, so Liz interrupted. “So, where are we goin’ to entertain your sons?”
Brought back from the curiosity over Perley’s name, Temple answered. “I figure in the barn’s the best place. I’ll have the boys throw down some fresh hay—make you a nice bed.” That’s where we breed the hogs, he thought but resisted saying it aloud.
“Sounds like a good place to me,” Stella commented, content up to that point to let Liz handle the bargaining but wanting to make one stipulation. “You understand this is for just one ride apiece for each one of your sons,” she emphasized.
“Right,” Temple agreed. “One ride oughta be enough to give ’em an idea—make ’em think about findin’ a wife, startin’ a family—so there’s somebody else around here to do the work. Me and Ma ain’t gettin’ no younger.”
“Well, as soon as we load up those supplies, we can go set up our camp,” Liz said. “Then give us a little time to eat supper and we’ll set up in the barn.”
“I don’t reckon there’s any chance you’d load up these goods and take off on me,” Temple said.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Liz said. “If your other two boys look as handsome as Jonah, I wouldn’t miss it.”
She might have said more, but Temple’s wife walked in from the kitchen at that moment. A tiny, pleasant-looking woman, her gray hair pulled back in a neat bun, Joanna Temple met them with a warm smile.
“I thought I heard Lou talking to someone out here,” she said. “My hearing’s not as good as it used to be, so I wasn’t sure.”
“This here’s Perley Gates and his two ladies, Ma,” Temple said. “They’re on their way to Cheyenne.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Perley quickly replied when she seemed puzzled by her husband’s introduction. “They’re not my ladies—they are Liz MacDonald and Stella Pender, and they ran into some hard luck, so I’m escortin’ ’em to Cheyenne to live with a friend of theirs.”
“Oh,” she replied, still somewhat confused by Liz’s trousers and jacket. “Well, I hope my husband can take care of your needs.”
“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Liz responded. “He’s takin’ good care of us.”
“I wish you a safe journey for the rest of your trip to Cheyenne,” Joanna said and promptly returned to her kitchen, making a mental note to inform her innocent-minded husband that the two women looked like prostitutes to her.
* * *
Still reeling mentally after the contract he had just witnessed, Perley led his party upstream a couple dozen yards to a place that looked to be satisfactory for their camp. He wanted to stay close to the trading post, in the event the three Indians were still on his tail, so he went only far enough to ensure he was upstream from the barn.
Having caught a glimpse of the older son, Elam, coming out of the barn, the two women were chattering away in anticipation of the coming evening. Even though Perley felt it not the best way for a young man to be introduced to the opposite sex, he kept his opinions to himself. It was a business deal between Temple and the women.
It occurred to him then that Elam looked to be about the same age as he, and like Elam, he had not as yet crossed that mysterious threshold himself. Shy as he was around women, he sometimes wondered if he ever would. But when I do, he promised himself, it won’t be with a three-dollar whore in a barn.
While he took care of the horses, Liz and Stella prepared supper, eager to try out their new coffeepot. Perley figured the women must have accumulated some cash in Ogallala, since there was no hesitation on Liz’s part to fetch the three dollars from a purse inside her jacket.
As no one felt the need to talk quietly, Perley was subject to overhearing some rather lewd comments regarding the coming evening. Before long, Liz couldn’t help but notice that he appeared to be in a constant blush, and while eating the bacon and biscuits they had cooked, he seemed to be sitting farther away than he normally did. Finally, she commented.
“You know what? I may be wrong, but damned if I don’t think ol’ Perley ain’t ever took a ride himself, just like the Temple boys. What about it, Perley? You think you might oughta get in line down at the barn tonight, too?”
Perley almost choked on a large piece of bacon he was in the process of swallowing. He had a coughing fit for a few seconds before recovering.
“I don’t reckon so,” he finally managed. “I think I’d best stay here and keep my eye on the horses. We might have visitors tonight.” He could have put their horses in the corral with Temple’s but decided he’d rather have them near him. And they could graze by the creek and drink freshwater.
Liz chuckled, amused by his reaction. “I know me and Stella will have visitors tonight,” she said, “so I reckon we’d best clean up the pan and the coffeepot and get along to the barn.”
“I’ll clean up here,” Perley insisted. “Why don’t you and Stella just stay there and sleep in the barn when you’re through? It’ll be a better bed than sleepin’ here on the ground. I figure we’ve got another day and a half from here to Cheyenne, so we’ll get started again in the mornin’.”
“That sounds like a good idea to me,” he heard Stella say to Liz as they walked away. “I’d give a lot for my hairbrush. I hope Kenny is enjoyin’ usin’ it.”
“Yeah, too bad Temple didn’t have one to sell,” Liz replied. “I don’t reckon these boys tonight are gonna spend much time lookin’ at our hair, anyway.” They both laughed then.
Perley was happy to have them gone for the night. He was uncomfortable with the lewd jokes. That was the kind of language a man heard from women in a saloon, or among men on a cattle drive. It just didn’t seem right, out on the prairie, for women to talk like rough cowhands. I reckon I’m just too soft in the head, he confessed to himself.
He put it out of his mind and went to work building himself a low firing position to sleep behind in case the three Indians showed up that night. He found a couple of logs that served his purpose quite well, so he dragged them over and fit them one on top of the other. By the time darkness descended upon the creek, he felt he was ready for any late-night visitors.
He was not long in his blanket when he realized he should not have made his camp so close to the barn, for he could soon hear sounds coming from there. The voices became louder as the evening progressed and were nearly all those of the excited young men. What the hell, he decided, I need to stay alert anyway.
* * *
“I don’t see my pony in that corral by the barn,” Cripple Horse whispered. “I don’t see yours or Walking Man’s, either. They are not here.”
“How can they not be here?” Gray Wolf growled. “We saw their tracks where they left the road and came here.” Cross and weary after their long trek on foot, he was in no mood for another frustrating defeat.
“Maybe they have left already,” Walking Man suggested, “and might be camped somewhere farther along the road.”
“We need horses,” Gray Wolf said, looking at the horses moving about in the corral, already aware of the Indians’ presence. “We can slip in and open the corral and steal these.”
“You forget when we tried to steal horses here before,” Cripple Horse reminded him. “Too many guns—we were lucky to get away alive.”
“It was almost daylight then,” Gray Wolf said. “They were lucky to have seen us. Now it is dark. They will be in their beds.”
He rose from his kneeling position and moved in closer to the barn. Cripple Horse and Walking Man had no choice other than to follow him. As soon as they moved up beside him, he motioned for them to listen. In a moment, they understood why, for they could hear loud voices, men’s voices, whooping and hollering.
“This is not good,” Walking Man whispered. “It sounds like a war dance.”
“I think you are right,” Cripple Horse agreed. “I think this is a very bad time to steal their horses. They have more men with guns than they did before. We should leave this place before they come out of the barn.”
Gray Wolf scowled and bit his lip in angry frustration, almost to the point of rushing in to open the corral in spite of what they perceived to be a war party inside the barn.
Such thoughts were abandoned in the next few seconds when they heard a low, threatening growl emanating from a stand of bushes a few yards away. A large dog, as black as night, pushed its head through the branches, its teeth bared, causing the warriors to freeze for a long moment. All three had but one thought, so as one, they slowly withdrew. It was enough to set the dog to barking, and the canine was joined almost immediately by two more dogs. There were no longer any decisions to be made—the three warriors turned and ran for their lives, with the three dogs in hot, noisy pursuit.
Up through the cottonwood trees that lined the creek the warriors ran, but the dogs were right behind them. Already weary from the journey that had brought them to Lou Temple’s trading post, they began to falter, until Gray Wolf, in a fit of rage, stopped, turned, and notched an arrow on his bowstring. Waiting until the lead dog was almost upon him, he released his arrow and quickly notched another.
His first arrow struck the large black dog in the chest, and it crashed to the ground almost at his feet. His second arrow struck a brown-and-white hound just in front of its rear leg, and the wounded dog howled out in pain and limped away. That was enough to stop the third dog. It turned and retreated to the barn.
Releasing his anger and frustration, Gray Wolf threw his head back and yelled out his victorious coup to the heavens. A dozen yards ahead of him, Cripple Horse and Walking Man came to a sudden stop, both shocked to hear Gray Wolf’s war cry.
“He has lost his mind!” Walking Man gasped, struggling to get his breath. “They know we are here now! They will all come down on us.”
In complete agreement, Cripple Horse called out, “Gray Wolf, come! We must get away from here!”
“I must get my arrow out of the dog,” Gray Wolf called back.
“Leave the arrow!” Cripple Horse yelled in anger and turned to run again. “He has gone crazy,” he panted to Walking Man.
Back in the barn, the “passage to manhood class” was abruptly halted, with only Elam and Jonah having crossed over the bridge. Fearing an Indian attack, the boys grabbed their rifles and spilled out of the barn. At the same time, their father ran out the kitchen door. All were primed to defend their home. On the other side of the barn, Perley leaped up over his log breastworks and ran to help the others.
“They musta been after the horses again!” Lou Temple shouted.
“Look!” Jonah said, and pointed to the hound, limping back to the barn with Gray Wolf’s arrow protruding from his rear leg. “They shot Beau!”
“There’s Belle!” Lou exclaimed. “Where’s Bear?”
With a pretty good idea who the raiders were, Perley felt an obligation to go after the Indians. “I think they musta run off up that way,” he said, pointing in the direction the dogs had come from. “I’ll go after ’em. Maybe you’d better stay here to make sure the women are all right.”
“I’ll go with you,” Jonah volunteered. “Elam and Josh can stay with Pa.”
They had not gone far when they came upon the body of the large black dog. Jonah dropped to his knees beside it. “Bear,” he moaned. “They shot Bear.”
Fully distraught, he started to pull the arrow out of the dog’s chest, but it was buried deep and was not easy to dislodge. That told Perley that the dog was shot at very close range. But he was more interested in how much farther the Indians had run and whether or not there might be another arrow coming their way.
When Jonah seemed unable to leave the dead dog, Perley scanned the edge of the trees before them but could see no one in the darkness beyond. Satisfied that there was no immediate danger of attack, he knelt beside Jonah and checked the dog.
“He’s dead. Ain’t nothin’you can do for him now.” When Jonah still refused to move, Perley said, “I’m goin’ on up to the other side of the trees.” He rose to his feet again and left Jonah to mourn his dog.
After scouting all along the tree line by the creek and finding no trace of the Sioux raiders, Perley had to conclude that they had flown. When he returned to the spot where he had left Jonah, Perley found him still kneeling beside the dog. He said, “You musta thought a heap of that dog, but I reckon it’s best to go on back now and let your folks know you’re all right.”
* * *
“It’s him!” Gray Wolf had gasped when he saw Perley searching for them along the trees lining the creek. “I knew he was still here. I could feel it!”
Hiding in a gully near the wagon road, he notched an arrow and started to rise up but was held back by Cripple Horse and Walking Man.
“He is too far for your bow!” Walking Man charged. “You will bring them all down on us. You have let this white man get into your head.”
“Have you no iron in your blood?” Gray Wolf scorned. “One white man has made us like women, with no horses, and afraid to fight.”
“I think this white man has big medicine,” Cripple Horse argued. “And now he has the other white men to help him. All of them have guns. Our bows are like nothing against them.”
“What Cripple Horse says is true,” Walking Man said. “It is foolish to fight when there is no chance to win. It is best to leave this white man alone and go from this place. There are many white settlers moving into this country. It is much easier to steal horses and ammunition from those who come to make their farms on our land.”
“I agree,” Cripple Horse said. “We have wasted too much time trying to kill this man and take back our horses. I say we should go back north to the big river the white man calls the North Platte, where the wagon trains roll across the prairie. We will find horses and food there.”
Gray Wolf could plainly see that Cripple Horse and Walking Man were no longer willing to follow him against the white man with the crazy horse. Realizing he had little chance of success if he attempted to attack the trading post by himself, he followed reluctantly when they climbed up from the gully and slipped back across the road to disappear into the night.
* * *
Back at the trading post, no one was inclined to go to bed after the scare of an Indian raid, so Joanna Temple fired up her iron stove again to make coffee for her menfolk. Stella and Liz were invited to bring their bedrolls inside the store for the night, as was Perley. He, however, graciously declined, saying he felt he should guard his horses during the night. Even though they felt sure the Indians would not be back, Temple’s sons were sent to keep watch on the barn and the corral.
Liz and Stella were pleased to accept the invitation, since it was warm inside the store and Temple closed the wooden shutters on the windows to guard against an attack. The one person who was distraught to see the two women move from the barn was Temple’s youngest son, Josh, who was left with nothing beyond his youthful imagination when it came to the mystery of women.
In spite of her suspicions regarding the two women with Perley, Joanna attempted to make them feel welcome. “We’re so sorry you had the bad luck to suffer an Indian raid,” she said to them. “I surely hope you don’t have any more before you reach your friend in Cheyenne.”
“It wasn’t really much of a raid, Mother,” Temple said to his wife, “just some renegade Injuns tryin’ to steal horses.” He wanted to discourage conversation between his wife and the two whores, afraid she might pick up a clue as to what was going on in the barn just before the raid.
He cringed a few moments later when she noticed some pieces of hay on Stella’s back and reached over to pick them off her blouse. “My gracious, dear, you look like you’ve been rolling in the hayloft. How did you get hay all over you?”
Stella started, then paused when she heard Liz giggle. “Why, I don’t know,” she answered. “It musta been when I took some hay outta the barn and carried it back to our camp to use under my blanket.”
“You shoulda had one of the boys do that for you,” Joanna said. “I think they were in the barn doing something. I thought I mighta heard ’em, but Lou said they were fixin’ to go to bed. You know, my hearing ain’t as good as it used to be.”
“It was no trouble at all,” Stella said, doing her best to keep a straight face while ignoring the sheepish grins in place on the faces of Elam and Jonah. “The boys have been eager to help Liz and me,” she couldn’t resist adding, and smiled, herself, when she saw Perley roll his eyes upward.
* * *
Although Perley and Temple’s sons remained alert for the rest of the night, it was obvious that the Indians had been discouraged from making another attempt. In spite of no sleep, Perley was ready to get his little party on the road early and was knocking on the front door of the store soon after sunup.
Having spent a comfortable night indoors, Liz and Stella were not enthusiastic about getting an early start, especially since Perley didn’t plan to let them eat breakfast until it was time to rest the horses.
“You ain’t on a cattle drive,” Liz complained. “We don’t have to start in the middle of the night.”
Perley opened one of the window shutters to let in the gray light of dawn. “It ain’t hardly the middle of the night,” he pointed out. “You and Stella get your blankets up, and I’ll saddle the horses. We need to get on the road.”
He said his good-byes to Lou and his wife and left to get the horses ready.
With the packhorse loaded and the saddles on three of the six horses, Perley led them back to the trading post to pick up the women. Elam and Jonah seemed especially attentive to the women’s needs, carrying their bedrolls for them and tying them on behind their saddles. Joanna Temple watched her two sons and was pleased to see their polite attention to the women’s needs. She felt proud to know she had raised them to respect women, and decided she wouldn’t tell them that the two women were probably prostitutes. Wouldn’t hurt for Josh to learn a lesson from his older brothers, she thought, noticing that he made no move to help the ladies.
With a final tip of the hat, Perley turned Buck’s nose toward the road and headed west once again, hoping to reach Cheyenne in a day and a half.
* * *
About twenty miles due north of Duck Bend, the three Sioux renegades sat by a small fire and shared one rabbit, the only game they had come upon that morning. Having walked through the night, they were not in a jovial mood.
“I hope we can find more than a rabbit to eat sometime today,” Cripple Horse complained. “It is not easy to travel when my stomach is so empty. It growled all night while we walked.”
“You do not eat,” Walking Man said to Gray Wolf.
“I am not hungry,” Gray Wolf spat. “I cannot think of eating when that white devil is still alive. I will eat again when I cut his heart out of his body.”
Walking Man and Cripple Horse exchanged worried glances. “You must eat to keep your body strong,” Walking Man said. “We might never cross paths with the white man again.”
“I will cross his path again,” Gray Wolf stated firmly. “Until I do, you eat the rabbit.” He tossed the rabbit leg on the ground between them, then turned over on his side to sleep.
Walking Man picked up the rabbit leg, brushed the dirt off, took a healthy bite of it, then handed it to Cripple Horse.
Cripple Horse looked at Gray Wolf as he lay there with his back to them. Then he looked up at Walking Man and slowly shook his head. “We should sleep a little while before we start walking again,” he said.
They were sure they had covered two thirds of the distance between Lodgepole Creek and the North Platte River during the night. And if they were correct in their figuring, they would strike the river before noon that day. The last time they were there they were lucky—they found some antelope. Maybe they would be lucky again. With that to hope for, they lay down and went to sleep.
“Wake up,” Cripple Horse said and shook Walking Man on the shoulder.
“What is it?” Walking Man asked.
“Gray Wolf,” Cripple Horse answered. “He is not here.”
Walking Man sat up and looked all around him and saw no trace of Gray Wolf, but he was not concerned. “He has gone to relieve himself,” he decided, even though there were no bushes of any size near the tiny stream they had stopped by. He could think of no other explanation.
“The white devil has made him crazy,” Cripple Horse insisted. “While we slept, he went back to kill the white man.”
Walking Man was reluctant to believe that and said as much, so Cripple Horse walked a dozen yards back the way they had come the night just passed. He studied the ground until he found Gray Wolf’s tracks heading back south. “See!” he cried. “The tracks do not lie. He said he would find him. He has gone back.”
“We must hurry and catch him!” Walking Man exclaimed. “He will be shot!”
Cripple Horse did not share in his friend’s anxiety for Gray Wolf. “I will not go back to try to stop him,” he stated firmly. “One man cannot tell another man what he must do. Gray Wolf’s mind has gone. We have told him what we think, and still he is determined to find the white man. He will be killed. I will go on to the big river. You must decide what you must do.”
Walking Man thought about what Cripple Horse said. He could not deny the truth in his friend’s words. After a few moments, he said, “Maybe you are right. We have done our best to save him from killing himself. There is no reason for us to commit suicide with him.”