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All of the fellow warriors ran, leaving Keme no choice but to run too while the soldier’s fire power overwhelmed them. Another barrage of musket fire went off. His brothers fell all around him. Keme dropped down by a log, pretending to be struck. He looked from one side to another. Enola’s parents lay a few feet from him, their eyes wide open and lifeless as blood oozed out of their chests. They’d taught him every time he had sneaked over to their wigwam – all about medicine and how to tend a wound.
The soldiers headed Keme’s way. He pulled a dead body over himself and hid between it and the log, staying silent among the dead while the soldiers walked past. They went by slowly, checking for anyone alive. His bow lay next to him. He considered reaching for it and killing two or three of them, but it would mean his death. Keme stayed put, feeling that once again he took the coward’s way out.
He continued to play dead for a couple of hours until the men moved on, and the musket fire stopped. Keme crept out, peeked over the log, and saw bodies strewn everywhere. There was a clearing on the other side where the soldiers were regrouping. The lack of gun fire meant Clawson’s men had broken through all their warriors. There was no one to stop them from attacking the camp.
Keme checked in all directions and spotted a pony wandering around aimlessly. He hurried over to it, mounted, and urged the pony on as fast as he could across the field, trying to reach the forest where he hoped to take a short cut across a narrow creek.
It was his only option if he had half a chance of reaching the camp before the white warriors. He pictured the women and the children at the camp waiting for their men to come home. Over confident because of the words of the chief and his own father – ever so sure help would come from the spirit realm.
Keme glanced back and his mouth dropped open. One of the soldiers was riding toward him and would easily catch up. He’d already seen them laughing at their small, shaggy, stocky horses. Keme used a stick and hit the pony on the hind quarters over and over until they entered the woods. He weaved in and out between the narrow trees, hoping to find some where to hide.
Despite its limitations, the pony was better at working its way through the woods than the big horses. Keme managed to take the pony into a low spot surrounded by brush. He slid off its back, and focused on slowing his breathing. Through the branches, he could see the soldier far behind him, confused on which way to guide his horse.
The soldier headed the wrong way and even started away. Keme let out of a sigh of relief. All he had to do was wait a little while longer and he could head to the creek.
Then he spotted something moving, not too far from the soldier. Keme hoped it was a deer or even a bear. Instead, it turned out to be one of his fellow warriors, a young one called Sakoya, who stumbled about in confusion. Keme grumbled at how he was too young to go to war, and shouldn’t be out here in the first place. He thought back, thinking how his father had done similar things with him, thinking it would make him tough, but all it led to were nightmares.
The soldier spotted Sakoya and rode toward him. The boy flinched and ran to the left of where Keme hid. He was going to run across from him and bring the soldier into range. At the edge of the forest, another soldier on a horse came into view. There were two of them. They shouted to each other in their language.
All Keme had to do was hide and he would be safe, but the boy would be killed. The soldier carried a musket and a sword. He’d seen them use their swords with great skill on horseback to strike down anyone in their path.
If he dared save Sakoya, the other soldier would come charging. Still, he hadn’t long to think about it and couldn’t stand seeing one of his own people run down.
He aimed over the top of the brush, pulled the bow back, and released the arrow. The soldier shouted as the arrow struck him in the side. He tumbled off the horse, yelling and squirming around on the ground. Keme ran out to the boy. The other soldier shouted angrily and charged with his horse. Keme mounted the larger horse, pulled the boy up in front of him, and hurried off. He knew every rock and every turn, giving him an advantage. Somehow, he adapted quickly to riding the large horse.
Still, the enemy managed to get closer. He gave the boy the reins. The boy nodded and rode skillfully. Keme took his bow off his back, quickly loaded an arrow, aimed, and fired.
The soldier ducked just in time for the first one. Keme struggled to balance and aim, as this was his last arrow. Holding his breath, Keme fired. The soldier tumbled off his horse, the arrow in his shoulder. Keme took the reins and made it back to the trail, a short cut to the camp.
As he rode along, images of the battle flashed through his thoughts. He’d never seen so many deaths at once.
The chiefs have killed us with their stubbornness, and I contributed to it in fear of dishonor.
They made it across the creek. The big horse grew exhausted and wouldn’t move with anyone on its back. He got off and pulled it. The two ran as best they could, and reached the camp.
Keme was used to seeing everyone out doing chores; instead, everyone was inside, making the camp look abandoned. It gave him a bad feeling. A couple of the children peeked out of a wigwam, staring with big eyes at the horse.
The boy’s mother came running out.
Sakoya pointed to Keme. “He saved me.”
“What happened?” she asked.
There was no time to explain. Keme shook his head and hurried right into the council’s wigwam in the middle of the camp. Takoda, the old chief, sat there hunched and appearing to be in a trance. He had one gray braid going down his back. Wrinkles covered his face. He sat next to Anti, who was also too old for battle. Izrah, the only female elder sat across from him.
“Everyone, we have to leave. We’ve lost the battle and the soldiers are headed this way.”
Chief Takoda flinched and his eyes flew open. “How is this possible?”
“The outlanders are more powerful than us. We have to leave!” Keme held back from grabbing him by his beaded vest.
Izrah stood up. “What did you see?”
“They have many muskets and horses twice the size of ours. I saw them starting this way. There is not much time.”
“What about our warriors?” Anti asked.
“Many are lost. Please, we must warn the others while there is still time.”
“Gather everyone into groups and break off in different directions,” Takoda said, in a soft shaky tone. “We’ll meet at North Point along the river.”
“Let’s hurry.” Izrah led the way out.
Everyone paused at seeing the horse.
“Keme saved my life,” Sakoya explained what happened.
Everyone gathered around with big eyes, looking between Keme and the horse as if he was some sort of hero.
“There is not much time. Hurry now.” Izrah waved her wrinkled hands for everyone to disperse.
They went through the camp getting everyone out and into groups. The chief was put onto a sled and it rode off. The men who had remained in the camp were not the best warriors, but they readied themselves.
Keme ran over to his wigwam to get the musket, but it wasn’t where he left it. Perhaps Leotie took it. He raced over to her wigwam, but found it empty. Keme had hoped Leotie had made it back home, but instead, she was still out there.
“Has anyone seen Leotie?” he asked over and over to anyone who would listen.
He passed by Enola, who tended to a wounded man. She hurried to wrap up the wound, then rushed over to him. “I haven’t seen her, but weren’t you with my parents? Where are they?”
Keme froze his expression. If she knew they were dead, she might try to go after them.
“Keme?” she asked.
“I-I wish I knew. We ran and got separated.
“Oh.” She looked to the east in a desperate attempt to see them returning.
“You can’t stay here and wait for them, as there are many wounded. Go with them and hurry. Your parents would insist. I will look for them while you go.”
Tears spilled over and poured down her cheeks. She ran off and joined a group of women preparing to leave. He spotted Leotie’s mother Dena in a crowd of woman looking to the east, watching for anyone returning.
Keme ran over to her. “Have you seen Leotie?”
“No, not her or Matwau.”
He raised his voice above all the talking women. “You all need to leave now before it’s too late.” Keme guided them all over to the ponies and sleds.
“Keme!” Keme’s mother came across the field and hugged him. “Thank the Great Spirit you’re back. Have you seen your father?”
“Not since the battle started.” Keme’s blood rushed to his feet. “Mother, you must leave with the others. Hurry now. I’ll stay for them.” He couldn’t leave the camp without Leotie, and looked toward the east, wishing he could see how close the soldiers were.
“Don’t stay too long.” Mother hugged him again and went off with several other women and children. They loaded into sleds or went on ponies, hurrying north-west. He gathered around with Anti, his life-bond, Izrah, and a few others who hadn’t left yet.
“What are you still doing here?” Keme asked.
“Our sons and grandsons are still out there,” Anti said.
Izrah stood by his side, nodding.
Keme went to protest, but a shout echoed across the plain. Lusio and Hinto rode over with a few other warriors. His father lay across the back of one horse.
Keme ran over and helped his father, while the others shouted for everyone to leave.
Paytah had a long, bloody gash along his leg. He glanced at Keme.
Keme nodded. “You’re hurt. Let me help you.” He assisted his father over to one of the last sleds, and made sure he would leave with the next group.
Father looked up. “Keme, you must also leave.”
“Leotie hasn’t returned yet.”
Paytah shook his head, slowly. “Word has it she was killed along with Wayna, Jolan, and several others.”
Keme held his breath. “Are you sure?”
“This is what I’ve heard.”
Leotie dead? He looked to the east. Tears started to well up. It’d been a long time since he cried last, and he thought he’d grown strong enough so it would never happen again. Other men would be sure to look down on him all the more. He forced the tears back. He wanted to run out there and find her, but it was impossible.
“No!” Izrah shouted. Her face paled and legs buckled. “My...my grandsons.”
Anti put his arm around her and steadied her.
“What about Chapa? Where is he?” Keme asked, wanting to ask him if he was happy with the results of his war.
“There has been no word about him. Most likely he is dead,” Paytah said.
“But we don’t know for sure who is dead,” Izrah said. “What if my grandsons are alive and praying for help?”
“There is no way to send help,” Paytah said.
It was suicide from the beginning. He didn’t know how any of the chiefs could live with themselves. He hated the thought of leaving Leotie’s body, along with all the fallen brothers. He’d lost Leotie. Rage filled his veins. He imagined himself galloping out on the big horse with his bow and a big sword, hacking down the outlanders and making them pay. Keme started for the horse.
“We can’t lose any more men.” Paytah grabbed his arm and pointed at the last group gathering around a few ponies and a sled. “You’re to leave and protect the women and children now.”
Keme clenched his fists, feeling the muscles in his neck bulge as anger at the outlanders and his own people for being so stupid flooded his veins. Clouds moved in from the west. A distant sound of a musket firing pierced the air, convincing the remaining people to leave. All except Izrah and Anti, despite everyone shouting at them to come.
“We are old and have lived a lifetime.” Izrah’s face winced in pain. “Let us go in peace.”
There was no time to convince them life was still worth living. Keme hugged them one last time, and ran with the others.
