Wellington's Quest - Robert F. Clifton (beach books .TXT) 📗

packed he began his trip back to the cottonwood tree that held the abandoned eagles nest.

This time the trail was different. Landmarks that he had fixed in his memory were covered with snow and distorted. He managed to follow the trail, but as the snow began to fall heavily it was almost a white out. Low growing weeds and bushes were covered in white. Pine tree and cottonwood branches were bent with the weight of several snowfalls. The remaining yellow leaves on some tree appeared vibrant while others seemed bleak. Here and there yellow-tan rocks remained free of snow as winds cleaned their surface.

At the end of the first day he made camp in a large, natural cave near a cascade that fell from the cliffs above into a large pond below. There, he was out of the cold and any wind that might come up. At the same time the horse and mule were out of the elements. Jim led them both to the pond for water then moved them both into the cave where he proceeded to rub them down. Then venturing outside he gathered as much dry grass that he could, shaking off the snow before he brought it into the cave. With his animals fed and rubbed down, then covered with their blankets. Jim built a fire using wood left by others who had used the cave before him. He then made coffee. From his saddle bags he removed a side of dried fish along with dried out berries that reminded him of raisins his mother used to make hot cross buns at Easter time. When the coffee was finished boiling he sat inside the red rock cave and at what would be his evening meal. Then, in deep thought he said aloud, “I'm almost there Virginia. Soon, this nightmare will be over. We'll be together soon now love. Soon”.

The next morning he went to the pond and found that it was mostly ice free. The rising sun was reflected on the water and the liquid surface appeared as a pool of melted gold. As the horse and mule drank their fill Jim made sure his canteen was full. The animals wanted to feed on the bright green grass that was exposed, but he couldn't allow it. He was in a hurry.

Mounted and with the mule following behind, Jim continued his journey. If he made good time and if it didn't snow during the next twenty four hours he would make it back in time where One Horn and hopefully Matosapa waited with Virginia. He was able to locate the trail mostly hidden by a white, blanket of snow. White snowfall covered bushes grew on each side of the trace outlining its contour. As yet, the previous snows that had landed and coated the landscape were not too deep and he thought that he was on schedule to make the round about trip. An hour later he saw the stand of cottonwood trees in the distance and as he neared the woodland he began looking for the empty eagles nest. After some searching he was finding it difficult to distinguish one tree from another. Clotted dead leaves at the tree tops resembled osprey or eagles nest's giving him false hopes. Then, as the paint pawed through the snow to get to grass Jim seated in the saddle finally saw it sitting high, gray and white on a large branch near the apex. It held his precious parcel, the thing that would give him Matosapa and Virginia.

This time the accent to the nest was precarious. He had located the blaze mark he had made on the underside of a branch. Ice and snow covered the top of the branches making handholds and foot placement difficult. Jim took his time, moving slowly, but safely to the eagles nest. When he finally got there, he rested for a few minutes taking the time to survey the land below. From that vantage point he could see for a good distance and he took his time looking, searching for other hoof prints in the snow, signs that others were about, ready to kill him. He saw nothing to indicate that anyone was about. Satisfied, Jim placed the sacred bundle inside his overcoat where it was safe next to his chest, then he buttoned the coat and began climbing down.

He finally stood at the base of the cottonwood. The horse and mule pawed at the snow searching for more grass to eat, exposing some green, some dry and tan. Jim looked up at an overcast sky. As sunlight had warmed the snow covered earth it also created a fog. A thick, watery mist now hid the ground in the distance. Still, there didn't appear to be any snow or ice melting. That was good, he could follow the tracks he had made back to One Horn.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

Wild Rice

 

When Jim rode into the clearing he saw One Horn standing in the open. A light snow was falling and the snowflakes had begun to coat the coyote skin covering the mans head. He also noticed that a tipi had been erected, a sign that women were about. It was the women who put up and took down the buffalo skin dwellings. It came to him then that Virginia was probably with them. Near by a chestnut colored pony stood tethered to a pole.

Dismounted, Jim stood by the paint and waited for One Horn to come to him, sending a signal that the wasichu (white man) was in charge and not the wicasa wakan (holy man). When One Horn stood in front of Jim he said, “Give me the Tashina pte (buffalo robe) so that I may see that it is real and undamaged.”

“I do not see Matosapa”, Jim answered.

“He is in the lodge”, One Horn replied.

“Tell him to show himself. When he does you shall received the sacred bundle”.

Jim saw the anger in One Horn's eyes. Nonetheless, the medicine man turned toward the tipi and in English so that there could be no misunderstanding yelled, “Matosapa! Show yourself”.

Three minutes passed, then the animal skin door of the shelter opened and a tall Dakota warrior stepped out on to the snow covered ground.

“Good, now here is the bundle”, said Jim.

One Horn held the white, buffalo robe with reverence. Opening it slowly he then looked inside and saw the sacred pipe, the chanupa. “You have brought me the Tashina pte, Sica Siha(Bad Foot). In return I have brought you what will be your terrible death. There stands Matosapa”.

 

Jim took the reins of the horse and mule in his hand and began walking towards the man. When he got to him he deliberately ignored the man, which was an insult. Then, he asked, “Do you speak English?”

“Yes”, answered Matosapa

“Good then you shouldn't have any trouble understanding what I'm about to tell you”, said Jim.

“Just as long as you understand that if I do not like what you say or if you continue to insult me that your life is in jeopardy”.

“Are we going to stand out here in the cold jawing or inside by a fire?”, asked Jim.

“If you prefer the warmth of a fire I suggest that you enter”, replied Matosapa as he pulled back the animal skin door flap

“After you”, said Jim as he unbuttoned the heavy overcoat then opened it wide so he could reach the Colt revolver.

“You don't trust me?”, asked the Dakota.

“Nope”.

“Already Bad Foot you have insulted me twice”, mentioned the warrior.

“And we haven't even had a conversation yet”, said Jim sarcastically.

“Enough! What do you want with me? I have come here to the Paha Sapa (black Hills) to pray to Wakan Tanka (God) so I can have a vision. You come here making demands. Forcing One Horn, my cousin, to order me to meet with you. You are one wasichu against an entire Dakota nation. You are either very, very, brave or very, very, stupid. I came here at One Horn's request just to see which one you are”.

“I know how information and talk reaches those in the Paha Sapa. So, by now you know I have an arrest warrant for you for the murder of white settlers in Minnesota. You also took captives, many women and children”, said Jim.

“Your warrant, as you call it are just marks and figures on a piece of paper. I should allow you to serve your warrant. Then, I would sit back and look at the worry in your face. You would worry each day if my warriors would come for me to set me free. You would worry each night if I could escape from the ropes that you bind me with allowing me to rise up and kill you. You would get no sleep. Each day you would grow weaker, until at last in the need for sleep and rest you pass out. If that happened Bad Foot then, you would be easy to kill. Remember there are many, many miles from the Paha Sapa to Minnesota.”

“Jim smiled. “True Matasopa, but it is not too far to the long knives fort. There I would produce you along with the warrant. Then I would have an army escort from fort to fort, until I give you up to the citizens of Mankato”

“Ah, the citizens of Mankato. The same people who hanged thirty three Dakota warriors for crimes they did not commit”,Matosapa responded.

“Dakota warriors killed, raped, pillaged and burned. They also took captives”, Jim replied.

“If what you say is true then, I ask you. Which Dakota warrior? You see I am familiar with your laws, your rights given to you by a piece of paper in Washington. Unfortunately, those rights are not given to the people of the seven campfires”, said the war chief.

“It is said that you took many captives. I search for one particular woman. My future wife. Her name is Virginia Martin”, said Jim.

“It is true. I took many wasican wiya (white women). I enjoyed listening to their screams and cries as I took them from behind like the cur bitches they were”, said Matosapa as he got to his feet. The warrior left the fire and moved to the rear of the lodge.

Jim watched every move the Dakota made and as he did he moved his right hand slowly and placed it on the grips of the Colt revolver. Then, he saw Matosapa turn holding a war lance in his hand as he walked back to the fire. Standing, the war chief proudly displayed the scalps attached as trophies to the wooden shaft. “This is what is left of the white, captive, women I took”, said Matosapa.

Jim fought a sick feeling, the nausea that suddenly gripped him. The scream he wanted to release from his throat would not come. As tears formed in his eyes he looked at the long, strawberry blond hair with the cerulean blue bow still in place. Finally, he was able to control himself and speak. “Oh, you dirty bastard! You filthy son of a bitch!”, he screamed over and over.

He saw the anger in Matosapa's eyes and the Dakota said, “Another insult. Now I have the answer to my question. You are very, very stupid”, said the Dakota as he changed his grip on the lance, then pulled back his arm in order to make a thrust. As he did Jim pulled the Colt from the holster, thumbed back the hammer and fired. The first ball struck Matosapa just under the breast bone. The second shot penetrated the sternum. Matosapa was knocked off of his feet be the impact of the forty four caliber ball. He lay on his back gasping for air. A lung had been punctured. Jim got to his feet and walked over to the Sioux. “Before you die I want you to know that you are going back to Minnesota. You said you were familiar with the white man's paper, a warrant. I forgot to tell you it read, Wanted Dead