Slocum and the Cheyenne Princess Read online

  “Her, for what?” Kimes, his lead driver, asked.

  “A ticket to get back on the road.”

  “You trust them?”

  “About as far as I can toss them. Get me my horse and a rifle. I’ll meet him.”

  “Be damn careful. Could be a plot to kill you,” Lacey said and headed off to get him his needs.

  Slocum studied the rider. Then he went over and shook Snow, still asleep under the blanket. “Get up, Snow. Who is this man out here?”

  She wiped the sleep from her eyes, then hurried to her feet. For moment she stared at the rider approaching. “Little Bear.”

  “Good. Go back to sleep.”

  She frowned at him. “Why ask me his name?”

  “When I call him Little Bear, he’ll wonder how I know his name, won’t he?”

  She agreed and went back by the fire ring.

  “Don’t let her escape,” he said loud enough over his shoulder. Then he mounted the stout red roan horse with the cropped ears that he called Sitting Bull. Rifle loaded and laid across his lap, he booted Sitting Bull out of the wagon ring to meet Little Bear.

  They stopped thirty feet apart.

  “How are you, Little Bear?”

  The brave’s eyes fluttered; he was obviously taken aback by his name escaping a white man’s tongue. “I come to ask if you have our chief’s daughter.”

  “I have her and she’s safe. No one will disturb her in my camp, or touch her. She is unchained on her word not to escape, so she is in no pain, nor will she be punished or threatened in my care.”

  “My chief, her father, asks for her back.”

  “Well, Little Bear, I figure as long as I have her, your war party won’t attack my wagon train and we can go on to Montana. I have little to eat here in my wagons. They’re full of of iron and wood to farm with. Nothing here that the Cheyenne can eat, wear, or care about. At the south end of the Crow country, I will give her back to you. But from here to there I will use her for safe passage. Little Bear, you will tell her father and your brothers they must come unarmed and take her home from up there. You have my word that she will be unharmed.”

  “I will ask him if that suits him.”

  “Take your time. Tell him she will be respected, but she is my pass to get that far north.”

  The brave stopped. “How do you know my name?”

  “My God told me who you were.”

  Little Bear nodded and then spurred his horse away. Slocum smiled after him. That trick had got the buck just like he’d expected it would—a little confused.

  Slocum rode back, handed a fledgling his rifle, and dismounted Sitting Bull. “Well, they are thinking about my offer.”

  “What did you offer them?” someone asked.

  “To return Snow to them at the south end of the Crow land unharmed, if we are, too.”

  “Think it will work?”

  “We have the ace in the hole, boys. That’s her.”

  “Did you shock him calling him by his name?” Kimes asked.

  “Maybe somewhat. But he damn sure didn’t expect my terms either.”

  “What will we do next?”

  “I plan to move out in the morning, with Snow riding up front with some of us.”

  “You’re damn sure of yourself, is all I can say.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Lacey joined him. “Yes, we will see. What about her for now?”

  “Make someone guard her around the clock. She’s our pass to Montana.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Good. We’re less than half a day’s travel from the river. We’ll load up. She can ride with me and Johnson at the head of the line on a lead rope. We should get to the Tongue River by mid-morning to refill barrels and water this stock.”

  He went and found the new rifle he’d brought back and spent the rest of the day cleaning it. The renegades sent him nothing that day to answer his request.

  • • •

  The next morning, they ate breakfast before dawn and hooked up their teams of mules and horses to the thirty wagons. The animals needed some better graze and a belly full of water. The Tongue River bottomland could furnish both. They were less than a week from Billings, so Slocum hoped his plan worked. Johnson had chosen a horse and Texas saddle for Snow, and a rope lead to keep horse and rider safe and in sight. Her pretty brown legs were exposed in the morning sunlight. Slocum knew she could ride any horse this outfit had.

  No sign of anything, but he gave Lacey instructions: If any Cheyenne showed up, Lacey and the wagon train should break off and make a circle out of the back half of the train. He gave the same order to Kimes in the number one wagon. The animals were slow getting to a pace that he liked to see. Water and graze later would help fuel them for the next day.

  The low sagebrush across the wide, flat valley couldn’t conceal much. The Bozeman Trail wagon tracks ran northward and things looked clear. By Slocum’s estimate, the line of tall cottonwoods along the Tongue was maybe a mile north.

  Suddenly, two pistol-armed bucks jumped up from the ground in front of them, and it seemed they appeared out of nowhere. Slocum shot the one on the left in his bare chest. Johnson took two shots to stop his man. However, his horse shied in the process and he dropped Snow’s lead rope. Quick as a cat, she stood in the stirrup, stretched over the horse’s neck, and sought the lead. Slocum saw she had hold of it and he spurred Sitting Bull to catch her.

  The race was on. She wasn’t looking back, but her heels were working over the bay horse’s side as she rode. Then, with a cross-over motion, back and forth with the lead rope, she began whipping him to run faster. Sitting Bull had his half ears laid back like he must have done this before. No doubt, many times, when his former Indian owner closed in to ride beside a buffalo and shoot him in the heart, behind his front legs. Inch by inch, he drew closer to being beside Snow.

  No need to urge the powerful pony; he knew what was expected and was fast closing in. She swung the lead rope at Slocum, but he caught the collar of her dress, jerked her off her horse, and slammed her over his lap. Then he made a wide circle, slowing Sitting Bull down to a walk.

  “No.” She struggled over his lap as he held her in place.

  “Catch her horse,” he told Johnson, who’d caught up and reined his horse in.

  “Any more sign of them?” Slocum asked.

  Johnson shook his head. Then the buck skinner rode on to capture the bay that had stopped a hundred yards ahead of him.

  “What are going to do to me?” Snow asked in a small voice.

  “I damn sure might spank you, when I get those wagons and horses to the river. I told you not to try to run on me, didn’t I?”

  “There was shooting. I was afraid.”

  “Two more licks for lying.”

  “You won’t spank me—” She tried to look back to plead with him. He forced her down again over his lap.

  “You disobeyed me. You have one coming and you’ll get it when we make camp.”

  “Oh, don’t spank me.”

  “You will be spanked when we make camp. You acted like a little kid running away when you promised me you wouldn’t do this. I don’t have time to mess with you now. I don’t know if your relatives will try to raid us again, but they might.” He stood in the stirrups to look across the flats—so far, no other sign of them.

  “Let me up.”

  “You can ride right there all day. You disobeyed me.”

  “You are hardheaded.”

  “No. I didn’t lie to you. You lied to me.”

  No answer. She squirmed some more on his lap.

  “Be still.” She obeyed him. No sign of any attack. But they now had fewer bucks to worry about than the number that had come to make war with them on the road the first time.

  The wagon teams were coming at a jog
in a long line and making lots of dust, but Slocum saw no sign of any Indians, either on foot or horseback. He short loped the roan for the river. They needed to be careful not to colic any of their animals once they reached the water. That would be all Slocum needed at this point, so they couldn’t let the thirsty animals over-drink at first and get bellyaches.

  Snow beat on his leg. “I must get down. I must get down. I won’t run.”

  With his hand full of her dress, he pulled her up and then gently set her down. On her feet, she nodded at him, looking very somber. He turned his head while she raised her dress to squat and relieve herself. Where was the war party? No sign of them. But he knew damn good and well they were still out there somewhere.

  He spun Sitting Bull around, still looking for any threat. Nothing. He bent over in the saddle and swept her up on the cantle behind his back.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, seated behind him.

  He never answered her, except to say, “Hang on.”

  With that accomplished, he set out in a hard lope for the river to be sure there wasn’t a trap set up for them to run into there. She clung to him, but as an expert horse rider, she had no trouble riding behind him. The small river was in the open and hardly a place for anyone to be hidden. He slid Bull to a halt to look over all the country. Nothing was in sight. They could circle the wagons and water the animals here. There was also lots of graze to fill them up and rest them the balance of the day. That meant that in the morning, under guarded caution, they’d start north again, past the fatal Custer site and headed for the Crow reservation.

  Slocum rode back and told Lacey to set up camp and have each driver water his horse with care and then graze the animal close by. Maybe Johnson and Joe could locate the renegades’ camp and activities. A week or two and they’d be in Billings and could unload the freight. A week might be too stiff a schedule for Slocum to accomplish, but at most he was within two weeks of reaching his destination.

  He met with two of his scouts.

  “No sign of them.” Johnson spit tobacco aside.

  “You two can make some wider circles and look for them. Both of you be careful. We’ll rest today here. Get our horses and mules healed, and I plan to start north again in the early morning,”

  They agreed and left him to go on the scout. He rode around talking to his drivers, who were relieved they’d had no more attacks. Tough men, but also ready to deliver their loads and take a breather. Only a few of them bore minor injuries from the raid. His outfit was damn sure made up of tough frontier freighters, and they’d been tested over the past few days.

  He motioned for Snow to slip off his horse at the main wagon. Lithely, she slid off Bull’s rump and straightened her dress. Out of the saddle, Slocum stretched and reset his pants and gun belt.

  “If you ever try to escape me again, I will bust your butt and keep you in ropes the rest of the time you are with me. Do you hear me?”

  Subdued, she nodded. “I won’t. I promise you.”

  “Well, you better remember it won’t be a threat.”

  “Yes, I will. You have no woman?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No woman.”

  “Why not?” She traipsed along with him, her dress fringe whipping around in the strong wind.

  “I don’t stay long anywhere.”

  “She could not go with you?”

  “White women like to be rooted.”

  He found his cook. “We’ll be here until dawn tomorrow. Be sure they fill all the water barrels.”

  Jasper scratched his gray beard and used his thumb to indicate Snow. “Figure her kin left us?”

  “I have no idea. I simply want to get up there and unloaded.”

  The older man narrowed his blue eyes. “Are we hauling stinking buff hides back?”

  “If you want to be paid, I’d say yes.”

  The cook wrinkled his nose. “Even the damn food I cook will taste like that.”

  “Can’t help it.” Slocum shook his head.

  “Yeah, yeah, but I need to complain to someone.”

  Two steps behind him, his companion was walking in his footsteps. When they left Jasper, Snow said, “These men complain like old women.”

  Amused, he nodded in agreement.

  “What will you do next?”

  “Make sure all my harness is in good repair.”

  “You must worry a lot to run this outfit.”

  “Yes. I have to.” He glanced back at her. “What do you wish to do?”

  “I would like to bathe in the river.”

  “That can be arranged. No tricks?”

  “No tricks.”

  “Go bathe. But if you try to run again, you will live in chains.”

  “I have no soap.”

  “I have soap and a towel. Don’t undress in broad daylight. White men don’t expect that.” He took her to the wagon and fetched out the two items for her. Then pointed to a less obvious site for her to go bathe. “Don’t run away.”

  She agreed and set out for the point. Watching the fringe swish around her tan calves, he shook his head in amazement at how grown-up she acted for a mere teenager.

  He stayed around the wagon and looked over his ledger book. All his expenses had been recorded so far as they should be. The return trip would be like Jasper had said. It would be a stinking long one, hauling those hides back to Omaha.

  In a short while, Snow returned looking refreshed. He found her a brush for her hair.

  “Water’s cold?”

  Busy pulling on the brush, she agreed with a small shake of her shoulders. “Very cold.”

  “I bet it was damn near icy.” He chuckled. “I need to check on a wagon we’ve had trouble with. Come along, you can brush your hair down there.”

  She moved off the box she’d found to sit on and followed in his footsteps with the brush in her hand.

  The wagon’s hind axle was up on a jack and the wheel removed, with two men working on it.

  “Is the situation better?” he asked them.

  “We’ve greased it again. I think something is wrong with the axle. We better replace it in Billings,” the bearded driver, Ivor Yankton, in his thirties, said.

  Slocum agreed, “We can get it done up there.”

  “We’ll keep greasing it till we get there. She your new pup?” He indicated Snow Flake.

  “No, she is our insurance to get there.”

  The two men went on to a shoeing of some draft horses.

  In his leather apron, sweaty-faced, burly-built Charlie McComb looked up from pounding the hot iron shoe on the anvil. “Getting a few of them shod today.”

  “Good. We move north at dawn.”

  “I’ll get another team shod today.”

  “Fine.”

  His scouts returned with no sign of Snow’s tribesmen near them.

  “Will you shelter me from the Crows?” she asked when they left the two men.

  “Yes. If your people don’t come claim you, I’ll take you on to Billings. I’ll protect you.”

  “Good.”

  Slocum had no idea why, but the Crows were very separate from the other tribes. Some of them had been Custer’s scouts, and that made the other Indians angry. The Crows, in turn, had shown their hatred recently by killing three major Sioux chiefs who were on their way trying to surrender.

  Before the Little Big Horn, General Crook had gone to Nebraska to find some Sioux scouts. The Indian agent in charge at Fort Robinson hated the military and threatened the Sioux that if anyone went with Crook, his relatives would starve.

  Crook knew the benefit of using tribe scouts, and he left there disappointed, without any Sioux scouts to return to Wyoming. The general blamed the lack of Sioux scouts for his own defeat at the Rose Bud Battle, only days before Custer’s big mistake at the nearby Litt
le Big Horn. Crook managed to get out of his entanglement and retreated back to Goose Creek.

  “No need to worry, Snow, if your people don’t come for you. You’ll be safe with us.”

  She nodded that she heard him.

  “Let’s go eat. I hear the cook’s triangle ringing.”

  She went with him. In line beside him, she took a tin plate and filled it, and then she sat on the ground at his side. She had taken a spoon to eat the buffalo stew with, but he noticed she hadn’t taken any biscuits for herself from the large Dutch oven.

  “You don’t like bread?” He showed her one.

  A slight frown appeared on her brow line, and she said, “I didn’t see them.”

  “They are in that big kettle.” He pointed out the open Dutch oven to her.

  She set her plate aside and went over to get two. Once reseated, and after a bite of her first one, she smiled. “Good.”

  “Not bad. Not half-bad.”

  Then, like she’d forgotten something, she set down her plate again, went to the fire, and brought back two cups of coffee for them.

  “Hell, Slocum, she’s handier than a pocket on a shirt,” Kimes said, and stopped on his way past them to get an eyeful of her.

  “Nearly so.”

  “She’s pretty enough.”

  “Almost.” Slocum watched for her reaction to his words.

  Another frown, and then to hide her anger at his words she busied herself eating. He laughed, for he’d got her goat. That was all right; she could use some stand-down business. But she was actually the most striking-looking Indian woman he’d seen in years.

  After lunch, he took her to Lacey, who was braiding some new reins for his own bridle. “Keep her safe. I’m taking a siesta. Any sign of trouble, wake me up. And kick anyone’s ass that tries to mess with her.”

  “That could be lots of asses.” Lacey laughed. He frowned when she took the braiding process away from him.

  “It needs to be flat.” Then she undid several braids he’d freshly made and sat herself down to fix it.

  “You’re going to get a lesson in braiding this afternoon.” Slocum chuckled. Show him how, pretty girl.