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

Or Alive! Knowing the people of Manakto they will see to it that you will not walk in the place of the souls. You will not see. You will not hear. Once again Jim thumbed back the hammer of the Colt revolver and placed a shot into the head of the war chief.

With weak legs and trembling hands he had to sit down. He kept looking at the scalp lock. Deep sobs racked his body and tears ran down his cheeks and into his beard. He hugged himself and rocked back and forth in his grief. She was gone. He would never see her again. All their hopes, dreams and plans had vanished. All he had now was her hair and the blue bow.

An hour later he had composed himself to the point that he could stand. He removed the Bowie knife from the sheath on his hip and cut a large piece of buffalo hide from one side of the tipi. Then, picking up the war lance he cut the rawhide thong that had held Virginia's hair to the shaft. Carefully and with reverence he placed the scalp lock in a hastily made pouch.

Jim walked outside and placed the small bag in a safe place in the backpack on the mule. Finished, he turned and walked slowly back to the tipi. There, he cut one whole side out of the dwelling and placed in on the ground. He stood looking around waiting to see if any of Matosapa's warriors were about. He still had three unspent rounds in the Colt and the Henry was near to him, hanging in the scabbard attached to the saddle on the paint. He went inside the lodge again and with some effort managed to pull the dead body of Matosapa out of the tipi. After placing the corpse on the buffalo hide he wrapped the body, securing the wrapping with raw hide thongs cut by the Dakota women for many uses.

Back inside the tipi he removed several lodge poles from the structure and for the next two hours constructed a travois This he attached to the chestnut horse. Finally he placed Matosapa's wrapped body onto the primitive vehicle and secured it. Then, he was ready to travel.

It took him five days riding through deep snow until, at last he left the Black Hills. Then, out on the flatland he no longer had the high rock sides and peaks of the canyon walls to protect him from the wind. The grassland was covered with ice and snow. Snow covered everything, ponds and seeps, buffalo chips and any firewood that might exist. Once in awhile he could make out the outline of a small copse of pines, standing tall in the frozen ground. However, the wood those trees would produce would be green and hard to burn. A high noon sun reflected bright, hurtful rays directly into his eyes and he was forced to stop and cut slits in his bandana. After he tied the neckerchief in place and adjusted it in order to have a clear vision of the prairie ahead of him he got the animals moving again.

He cursed the ice, snow and cold, yet at the same time was glad for it. The freezing cold prevented the putrefaction of Matosapa's body. Nonetheless, as daylight faded he was aware that he would have to spend the night on the open, frozen land. At the same time the horses and mule would go without, but they could paw through the snow searching and finding grass that grew beneath the white layers. It was more than he could do.

With the setting sun, the winter wind subsided, then stopped. Jim dismounted. One place to spend the night was as good as another under the current conditions. He unpacked the mule then hobbled it. The travois was dropped and allowed to lay on the ground. Next, he unsaddled the paint and when finished hobbled his mount and the chestnut. With the side of his buffalo hide, winter boot he scraped the snow away creating a place to sit. He then sat munching the last of his buffalo jerky. When darkness fell covering the grassland in darkness, Jim placed the Henry carbine across his knees at the same time fought the weariness in his body. Relying on the horses and mule to wake him if man or beast came near him he nodded off to sleep.

As he slept she came to him in a dream. He saw her standing near the sour apple tree on his farm. Her back was towards him and when she turned around she smiled. “Thank you for coming for me Jim. Deep in my heart I always knew that you would. Things are different now dear. We can never be together. Now, you must let go of the feelings and love you have for me and find another. Find a new love”, she said.

He watched her face slowly fade away and he called to her, “Wait! Wait, Virginia, wait”. Then, in horror, he watched her face turned into a ghostly black and white. Her blue eyes turned to yellow and they flashed in anger. Her mouth turn up at the corners creating a hideous grin and she growled. With a start Jim woke to find that he was surrounded by a pack of wolves. He saw their glowing, yellow eyes in the darkness and heard their warning snarls. They were after the horses and mule. He got to his feet quickly, pulled the lever of the Henry, then stood aiming at the eyes that glowed in the night. He fired. He heard the yelps and cries of pain when his shots hit true. The, as quickly as the wolf pack had come, they were gone.

Jim walked to where the animals were hobbled and in the darkness ran his bare hand over their legs. He couldn't see clearly in the night, but he could feel for the wetness of blood from any bite wounds the wolves might have caused. Finding none he went back to his place in the snow, cursing the fact that he had no fire. A fire would have kept the predators away. He wished that he had the other loaded magazine for the Henry, but it was in the mule's backpack and he couldn't work in the dark. At the same he couldn't remember exactly how many shots he had fired. “Was it eight, or nine?”, he asked himself mentally.”It was eight. I'm sure of it”,he reasoned.

The cold and fatigue took its hold on him once more and he drifted off to sleep again. This time there were no dreams. As he slept large snow flakes began to fall, coating him with a white frigid covering.

Up early the next morning he was saddled and packed again. With the pack mule and chestnut following behind him his horse trudged through the fresh snow. Jim looked at the sun through the slits in his bandana and judged by the height of it in the sky that it was about ten o'clock in the morning. Then, approximately fifty yards away he saw the large deer buck feeding on snow covered vegetation. Catching the scent of the horses and mule the deer raised its head and looked at the animals standing still in the distance. As yet, it had not picked up the scent of man astride one of the horses and the buck lowered its head and continued to feed.

Jim carefully removed the bandana from his face and slowly reached for and withdrew the Henry from the saddle scabbard, then gently pulled the lever which put one round into the chamber. With slow, deliberate, quiet moves so as not to spook the deer he brought the carbine to his shoulder, aimed and squeezed off a shot. He watched the buck stagger as the bullet struck with force, then it dropped, dead before it hit the ground.

At the sound of the rifle report the jack mule began braying and kicking its back legs. “Stop it, you stupid son of a bitch!”, Jim yelled.

He rode up to where the dead deer lay. Dismounting, he withdrew the Bowie knife from the sheaf on his hip. Before butchering the animal he checked the mood of the horses and mule, not knowing what they would do when they detected the smell of death. He decided to hobble them. If he lost them he would be on foot in the freezing cold.

Making cuts into the hide of the deer he then cut out the meat he wanted, saving the liver and heart. Using the knife again he removed a piece of hide large enough to wrap the meat in, then wiped the knife clean in the snow. He then took handful after handful of the fresh snow using it to wash the blood off of his hands. As he stood he checked his back trail knowing that the wolf pack or what was left of it would be following him. Leaving the deer carcass would serve two purposes. The dead deer would feed the pack, so there would be no waste. When the pack stopped to feed they would stop following him.

It was past noon when he entered the Dakota Badlands. To him, it was a good place to be. Here, the dry snow had been blown off of the mounds exposing dried grass, sparse in places, but enough for the horses and mule to feed. It had been awhile since they had anything except what they found under the snow and ice.

Dark, brown, rock formations, some high others short formed natural barriers that would protect him from the harsh, cold wind should it blow at night. Then, he saw the dark, green growth of pines growing on top of a knoll and he quickly searched for the largest copse that appeared to grow between two hills. He headed it for it. Reaching the created place between the mounds Jim dismounted and took care of his animals. He led them to where they could get to and eat the most dry grass. Then, he hobbled them. While the horses and mule ate, Jim gathered dead, dry, pine wood for his fire. Out of the wind he struck steel and flint, creating sparks that caught, then ignited the dry grass tinder. Soon, he had a fire. Now, he had heat and shortly he would have hot food.

He had little or no concern about the Dakota or any other tribes in the area. It was winter. Most of the tribes were in places like the Paha Sapa. Protected from the harsh elements of cold weather they lived on the food they had preserved for the wintertime retreat. If necessary, they hunted.

Jim went through his food pack. His coffee was gone. So was his tea. A few hardtack biscuits remained. Fortunately now he had the venison. He took his tin cup out of the pack and filled it with snow. Walking back to the fire he placed the cup where the heat of the fire would not only melt the snow, but in addition, boil the water the heat created. He then picked a handful of pine needles from the nearest tree. Cutting the meat into small pieces, he placed them on a sharpened stick and held the makeshift skewer over the fire. He noticed that at last, the water in the tin cup was boiling and he dropped the pine needles into the rolling water and brewed a type of tea.

As he ate he was deep in thought. He thought of Virginia again. The thoughts were different now. The thoughts were of what might have been had things been different. Thinking of her also made him think of home and for the first time in the last couple of years, that's where he wanted to be.

Finished with his meal Jim stood and sipping from the cup he looked to the east. This was the direction he was traveling, the course that