Buffalo War (The Dragoons #1), page 22
“It can’t end there,” Devlin told him. “We’ve got some serious wrongs to right where the Kiwota tribe is concerned. After all, it was the tricks pulled through Torrance’s influence that caused the shortage of beef and those hunters keeping the buffalo clear of the reservation.”
“I already have some recommendations to make along those lines,” Pendergrass said. “You can be sure that both the army and the federal government will approve. Public opinion will force them to.”
“Do you think this will get in the newspapers?” Devlin asked.
“I’ll see that it does,” Pendergrass promised.
“What are those suggestions of atonement you’re going to recommend?” Devlin wanted to know.
“First, of course, is an immediate issue of beef cattle to make up for the shortages in the past,” Pendergrass said. “Then I’m going to get authorization to allow a large hunting party of Kiwotas to leave the reservation with dragoon escort to do some serious buffalo hunting. That should take care of them through this winter.”
“That’s fine,” Devlin said. He looked out at the weak scattering of snowflakes drifting down around them. “But you’d better hurry before the first blizzards arrive.”
“I shall,” Pendergrass promised. “And I imagine you would like to join those search parties out looking for your son without further delay. So I’ll bid you goodbye and see you at the trials.”
The two officers shook hands; then Pendergrass climbed up into the army wagon for his journey while Devlin rushed to the stables where a horse was already waiting for him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The snow had been falling for two days and a night, leaving two feet of the powdery substance across the entirety of the Buffalo Steppes. Three horsemen, with a packhorse in tow, rode slowly across the white terrain. The hooves of the animals broke through the thin, frozen crust of the frigid covering with each step, and the vapor from their nostrils spurted forth with each breath they exhaled.
Major Matt Devlin huddled in his heavy blue army overcoat. The civilian fur cap he wore was pulled down over his ears. Just ahead of him, Fred Jeffries was dressed in the type of thick, blanket like jackets worn by French-Canadian trappers in cold weather. The rest of his garb was Indian, including buffalo leggings and knee-high moccasins. War Heart was dressed similarly, but had a blanket pulled tightly around him. Of the three, he seemed to bear the cold temperature with the least discomfort.
This was the third time the trio had been out trying to locate Freddie Devlin and Swift Rabbit. None expected to find the boys alive anymore, but it was hoped their bodies could be retrieved before the cold drove the ravenous pack of wolves onto the Buffalo Steppes looking for food. If the boys’ bodies were found by animals, there would be nothing left to bury except some gnawed bones not carried away. If, however, Indians discovered the remains, they might have been properly buried.
Back at Fort Buffalo, the agency, the mission school, and the Kiwota village, all was well. The buffalo hunt a few weeks earlier had been undertaken by the Kiwotas with soldiers along to escort them. The affair, arranged through the permission of the department commander at Fort Snelling, had been successful. Hundreds of buffalo fell to arrows and bullets, and the women and girls had spent several long days in ceaseless butchering. The meat, hides, and other useful parts of the bison were carted back on travois. Meanwhile, the back issue of cattle had also arrived and were wintering in shelter at the agency. Gilbert Paxton, undertaking an extra job as the official reservation agent, made sure the count was correct when the beeves arrived. Now the Indians would be able to come and take a few at a time whenever fresh meat was needed or desired.
When the news reached the Buffalo Steppes about the newspaper stories on gold being discovered in the Medicine Hills, Devlin took direct action. He went straight to War Heart and, with Jeffries supplying his usual skills in translation, explained the situation. Devlin promised that the dragoons would clear out all illegal prospectors. War Heart, still trusting Looks Ahead, agreed to leave the enforcement of reservation policies to the army. That way there would be no trouble that might escalate into a full-scale war between Indians and interlopers.
While things were straightened out on the frontier, judicial proceedings against Senator Osmond Torrance moved slowly. A thorough investigation by certain of his political enemies brought out the fact he had illegally put a claim on land in the Medicine Hills of the Buffalo Steppes where the gold was reported discovered. Further inquiry about how he found out about the precious metal’s presence in Indian country promised to be most interesting. An unusual event occurred, however, when his secretary, Harvey Puffer, looted the senator’s safe of thousands of dollars and disappeared to parts unknown. Reports of sightings of the thieving aide in Europe surfaced several times, but no real information on his whereabouts was substantiated. Meanwhile, Torrance was settling in for the fight of his political and professional life, and things did not look good for him.
Devlin, with faith that justice would prevail, turned his mind from the case and mourned the loss of his oldest son. He would never forget Freddie and his devil-may-care pranks and playfulness. Beth took it hard, but having to care for the two remaining children gave her strength. The only thing that kept Devlin going was wanting to bring his boy’s body back home for a burial. He wanted a grave with a tombstone so that the loss would be more bearable.
War Heart, for his part, also wanted to retrieve Swift Rabbit’s corpse. The boy was a nephew, and if he were devoured by wolves, certain ceremonies could be performed by the medicine man that would guarantee the youngster being whole in the spirit world of the dead. Being dismembered by a hungry animal was not the same as mutilation by an enemy. Animals were the People’s gift from the Great Spirit and did not do evil or mischief simply to be bad or cruel.
Now, still moving across the frigid terrain, the trio continued their sad quest. Suddenly, Jeffries pointed to the west. “A campfire, see?” He said the words again in the Kiwota tongue for War Heart’s benefit.
A wisp of smoke could be seen curling upward from a ravine. It was obviously an Indian camp. The smoke was intermittent, showing care was being taken that it would not attract attention unless someone was actually looking for it.
War Heart muttered a few words that Jeffries translated as, “It’s probably a Sioux camp. They’d be out here this time of year to hunt elk or deer before the snows got too deep and dangerous. They may have information about the boys’ corpses.”
The three men, with the packhorse trailing, pushed on. They skirted a stand of leafless trees looking stark and dead in the dreary winter landscape. After rounding the dormant vegetation, they turned into the ravine .
“Pa!”
Freddie Devlin’s loud call caused his father to rein in and stare in a strange emotion of happiness and anger.
“Freddie!”
Swift Rabbit appeared from the snow cave behind the small fire. He looked at the three men, then at Freddie. “Boy! Are we in trouble!”
“You certainly are,” Devlin said. He dismounted and struggled through the snow until he reached his son. He picked him up and gave him a hug.
“Put me down, Pa!” Freddie yelled out in embarrassment. “I’m too big to be lifted up like a baby.”
War Heart, satisfied that the boys were hale and hearty, dismounted and glanced at their camp. He looked at Devlin and spoke a few words.
Jeffries said, “War Heart is telling you that he sees a lot of Sioux stuff in their cave. There’s bows and arrows, a buffalo robe, and other things.”
Devlin, now with Freddie standing in front of him, kept his anger under control. “Just what do you mean by running away like this? Your mother took it very hard, young man.”
“Me and Swift Rabbit ran off to live out here on the prairie all by our lonesomes,” Freddie said.
“Yeah,” Swift Rabbit said. “I wanted to get away from that mission school.”
“But that wasn’t the main reason we lit out,” Freddie explained. “We’re good friends and didn’t want to have to fight each other when we’re grown up.”
When War Heart was told what the boy said, he replied through Jeffries, stating, “I think that children sometimes see things better and brighter than adults.”
“What were you two planning on doing?” Devlin asked.
“Like we said, Pa,” Freddie explained. “We was just planning on staying away from other folks and hunting and fishing.”
“The way life is supposed to be,” Swift Rabbit interjected.
Freddie now had something else on his mind. “Are we gonna get a whipping, Pa?”
“You bet you are,” Devlin said. Then he added, “If your mother allows it.”
“I’ll get a whipping,” Swift Rabbit complained. “I always get the switch at that school.”
“I’ll talk with Mr. Paxton,” Devlin said. “If Freddie doesn’t get whipped, I’ll see that you don’t.”
“Paxton don’t whip us,” Swift Rabbit said. “It’s that Mr. Fenwick.”
“I’ll still keep you from that switch you told us about,” Devlin promised. “But you’ll both be punished somehow.”
“Yeah,” Freddie said, downcast.
“Gather up your stuff,” Devlin said. “You two can sit on the packhorse for the trip back to Fort Buffalo.”
War Heart spoke through Jeffries. “Maybe the boys will not have to be enemies after all.”
“Maybe you and I won’t either,” Devlin told him. “But you’ll have to be patient when the white men come next summer to look for gold in the Medicine Hills. They won’t care if it’s against the treaty for them to be there or not.”
War Heart replied, “You said you will chase them away for us. If you say that, I believe you.”
“Then, we are not enemies,” Devlin said.
It didn’t take the boys long to prepare for the trip back. Jeffries helped them aboard the packhorse, then mounted his own. The group turned back toward the south, where Fort Buffalo waited them.
After they had been traveling an hour, War Heart looked at Devlin. He took a deep breath, then spoke as best he could in English:
“Looks Ahead, we friends.”
“Goddamn right we are,” Devlin said.
Jeffries translated the phrase for the Indian as, “Through the strength of the Great Spirit we will remain so.”
The travelers continued across the snow-covered terrain. The wind died down, and the sun edged out from the clouds, casting a sparkling light that glittered and danced across the Buffalo Steppes.
Epilogue
Spring on the Buffalo Steppes brought the usual mud, but in that year of 1856 the sun came on early and strong. The ground firmed up nicely, and everyone was able to get out into the open country without the worry of being mired down in boggy soil.
On one misty morning, not long after the first shoots of fresh grass had begun to appear, Major Matthew Devlin rode his favorite horse across the awakening prairie. He had made arrangements to meet Fred Jeffries just north of the mission school. As he drew close he could see the scout on horseback. His Cheyenne wife, Moon Deer, was also mounted, but she also held the reins leading to another horse that pulled a travois stacked with their belongings.
Devlin rode up and halted. “Good morning, Mr. Jeffries,” he greeted him. The army officer knew better than to attempt to speak to the scout’s wife.
“Good morning to you, Major,” Jeffries said.
Devlin sighed. “I wish I could talk you into staying, Mr. Jeffries. I could really use your help now that those illegal prospectors have started to show up in the Medicine Hills.”
Jeffries shook his head. “Thank you just the same, Major, but I really got my mind made up. You ain’t gonna need no scout for that work, and the Kiwotas ain’t gonna go on the warpath as long as you keep the area clear. So, I’m gonna get out of this scouting business and head up to the high country and spend the rest o’ my days in them mountains.”
“That sounds a lot like what Freddie and Swift Rabbit wanted to do,” Devlin said.
“Well, now, I got to admit I kinda got the idea from them,” Jeffries said. “But I really been thinking on it for some time.” He pointed to the buildings a short distance away. “That’s what made up my mind.”
Devlin was puzzled. “Mr. Paxton’s mission school? I don’t see what that’s got to do with your decision to leave.”
“I scouted for the army ’cause I think the Injuns need to be helped along,” Jeffries said. “A good reservation is ’bout the best they can hope for. I know how it’s gonna be when folks start getting pushy ’bout needing farm land.”
“Well, hell, Mr. Jeffries,” Devlin said. “The Kiwotas do have a good reservation. They’re drawing rations from the government and the Mission of Indian Reform, and they’re able to hunt enough buffalo to get by, too.”
“They ain’t being destroyed by the reservation,” Jeffries said. “They’re gonna be wiped out by Paxton and that school. To make it even worse, he thinks he’s really helping them along.”
“He is,” Devlin insisted. “Those Indian children are learning to read and write, acquiring good work skills, and being given spiritual guidance, too.”
“That’s what’s gonna destroy them as a people,” Jeffries said. “I don’t know how to really explain this, but you don’t help nobody by ripping out his soul. Turning those boys and girls away from their tribal religion and beliefs means that Paxton is gonna cut out their hearts. The Kiwotas won’t even exist in another twenty or thirty years. They’ll just be another bunch o’ lost Injuns, preyed on by liquor and a life God didn’t put ’em on the earth for.”
Devlin was taken aback, but he was ready to defend himself. “I’m a better friend to War Heart than that.”
“You want to be,” Jeffries said. He shrugged. “What the hell? It can’t be helped. Well, I got to go, Major. It’s been nice knowing you.”
They shook hands. The army officer watched Jeffries and his wife ride toward the northwest, heading for the purple shadows of the distant mountains. After a while he turned his gaze toward the mission school. The children, in orderly lines, marched from the classroom into the dining hall.
Devlin had to admit to himself that the sight made him uneasy, too. He turned away, riding back across the open country. He chanced to glance to the north and could see shadowy figures in the mist that swirled across the ground. They were obviously Kiwota warriors on some early-morning hunting expedition. After a few moments he recognized the silhouette of War Heart among the Indians. Suddenly, Devlin remembered something the Kiwota had said to him while they were camping overnight during the search for the two boys:
“Someday, Looks Ahead, my people will fade from the earth like the snow during the Moon of Awakening. We will be gone. We will not even be shadows on our own land.”
The dragoon officer continued to watch the Indians until, finally, they disappeared into the mist. He tried to catch sight of them again. But they were gone.
Devlin pulled on the reins of his horse and rode back to Fort Buffalo.
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Patrick E. Andrews, Buffalo War (The Dragoons #1)
