Nathan Stark, Army Scout Read online

  Nathan came down astride the pony’s back, behind Red Buffalo. As he started to slide off on the other side, Nathan got his arms around the Indian scout’s midsection in time to catch himself. He hung on tightly as Red Buffalo turned the pony and urged it into a run away from the Sioux village. Nathan kept his head down so his hat wouldn’t blow off as they galloped.

  Red Buffalo called, “Where did you leave your horse?”

  “Around on the other side of the camp, in some aspens on top of a hill.”

  “I know the place. I watched the camp from there when I found it.”

  “You mean before the Sioux found you. ”

  Red Buffalo didn’t make any reply to that. Both men leaned forward as the pony lunged ahead. Behind them in the distance, rifles began to crack. Nathan didn’t hear any bullets whining close to them, however. The Sioux were firing almost blind, aiming at the swift rataplan of the pony’s hoofbeats.

  Red Buffalo circled to the north, taking them around the camp and back to the spot where Nathan had left Buck. They couldn’t hope to outrun any pursuit riding double. It wouldn’t be easy, even with the buckskin.

  “How far away is the column?” Red Buffalo asked.

  “About five miles, I reckon.”

  “Once you’d found the village, why didn’t you go back and tell the colonel? He could have had the men in position for an attack at dawn.”

  “I didn’t know if you were down there, but I figured there was a good chance they’d grabbed you. I wanted to know for sure.”

  For a moment, Red Buffalo didn’t say anything. Then, “If the colonel had attacked, the first thing my captors would have done was cut my throat.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “So you risked your life, not even knowing if I was still alive.”

  “Stop wasting breath on all this talking, damn it! They’ll be coming after us, and if they figure out what we’re doing, they’ll try to cut us off.”

  Red Buffalo hadn’t slowed the pony’s racing stride, and he urged even more speed out of the mount as they swung wide around the Sioux camp. The hill where Nathan had left Buck was directly ahead of them, a dark bulk in the night. The pony hit the slope and began to struggle under the weight of both men.

  “I’ll find Buck,” Nathan said. “You get back to the column as fast as you can and let the colonel know where those hostiles are.”

  “Stark, what are you—Wait!” Red Buffalo cried as Nathan slid off the pony’s back and landed running on his feet.

  Momentum tripped him. He went down but rolled and came right back up, snatching his hat off the ground and clapping it on his head as he angled off through the trees. Behind him, Red Buffalo kept moving.

  It was important that at least one of them make it back to the column with the location of the Sioux camp, and they increased the odds of that by splitting up. Red Buffalo wasn’t armed, but his pony was fast and had had a chance to rest some. Buck might have a little left, but not much.

  “Buck!” Nathan called. “Buck, where are you?”

  An answering whinny turned him in the right direction through the trees. A moment later, he spotted the buckskin, still tied to a sapling. Nathan jerked the reins loose and was in the saddle in a flash.

  He pulled Buck around and heeled the horse into motion. Nathan bent forward over Buck’s neck so that no low-hanging branch would sweep him out of the saddle as he rode through the thick shadows under the trees. Down along the creek, men still shouted. A rifle cracked now and then, but the Sioux were shooting at phantoms.

  Nathan and Red Buffalo had gotten away. All they had to do was stay ahead of any pursuit until they got back to the column. The Sioux wouldn’t have time to break camp and move away before the column arrived. The savages were doomed, but they would put up a hard fight, Nathan knew. A lot of redskins would die in the next ten or twelve hours.

  In the past, that would have filled him with exultation.

  Tonight he just kept riding, acting on instinct alone, glad only that he had penetrated the Sioux village and gotten out alive ... with Red Buffalo.

  CHAPTER 32

  Nathan had gone less than half a mile when a mounted figure suddenly loomed up on his left and made him reach for the gun on his hip as he hauled back on the reins.

  “Don’t shoot, Stark,” Red Buffalo snapped. “It’s just me.”

  “Damn it,” Nathan barked right back at him. “You ought to be a mile closer to the column by now. What the hell did you do, hang back to make sure I found my horse?”

  “Yes,” the Crow scout answered simply. “Did you really believe I would abandon you?” He grunted. “We may not like it, Stark, but we are partners on this mission. I do not betray my partners.”

  Nathan’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t about to admit that same thought had crossed his mind earlier in the night. “Let’s just get the hell out of here while we still can, all right?”

  “Is that buckskin of yours up to a hard run?”

  “Buck can hold up to anything he needs to!” Nathan hoped that was true. He hated to think of the valiant buckskin running until his heart burst ... just because Nathan had asked him to.

  They rode southeast, moving at a fast clip but not a full-out gallop.

  After a while, Red Buffalo said, “That was a damned foolish thing you did, Stark.”

  Nathan laughed harshly. “I thought redskins didn’t cuss.”

  “I’ve been around you profane white men too long. You’ve corrupted my spirit. But that doesn’t change the fact that you shouldn’t have come into the Sioux camp like that.”

  “Shouldn’t have risked my life to save you, you mean?”

  “Shouldn’t have risked not being able to let the column know where to find the camp. You didn’t know that I was still alive. Strategically, it was a foolish thing to do.” Red Buffalo paused, then added, “Even if, in the end, it doesn’t really matter.”

  “What in blazes do you mean, it doesn’t matter? If the colonel moves fast, he can be in position to put an end to all the hell Hanging Dog’s been raising.”

  Red Buffalo shook his head. “Hanging Dog is not there.”

  “Now what the hell are you talking about? Are you trying to tell me that’s not Hanging Dog’s camp after all?”

  “It is Hanging Dog’s camp, but he is not there. And there are only a dozen or so of his warriors left in the village. He and all the rest . . . nearly three hundred men ... rode out yesterday. I heard much talk about it while I was their prisoner.”

  “They’ve gone out raiding again?” Nathan guessed.

  “Worse. They are on their way to a place called Weeping Woman Rock to meet some white men with several wagons full of rifles and ammunition. By tomorrow evening ... this evening, actually ... every warrior riding with Hanging Dog will be armed with a new or nearly new Winchester and hundreds of rounds for it.”

  “Good Lord!” Nathan muttered. “And you say there are three hundred of ’em?”

  “Close to it.”

  “That’s enough to—Hell! They could wipe out Fort Randall! ”

  “That is exactly what Hanging Dog intends to do.”

  Alarm rampaged through Nathan as he thought about Delia Blaine and all the other women and children at the fort. What was left of the company that had remained at the fort wouldn’t be enough to fight off an attack such as the one Red Buffalo described. The Sioux could sweep in without warning, kill all the soldiers, and then take their time with the women and children.

  The very thought of it made Nathan’s blood run cold. “The colonel’s got to forget about the village and get back to the fort as quick as he can.”

  “The column cannot move fast enough to arrive in time, not without riding all day and then all night. Hanging Dog will be in position to attack by early tomorrow morning. At least, that is what I gathered from the talk I overheard. I do not know exactly where this Weeping Woman Rock is.”

  Nathan forced himself to put aside his fears for Delia and the ot
hers and make his brain work. He had been to Weeping Woman Rock, a huge formation of weathered sandstone that, from a distance, looked like a woman on her knees with her head bent forward as she wept. Like a lot of geographical features on the frontier, the name it had been given was a bit of a stretch.

  He never had figured out how come the Tetons had reminded the Frenchman who’d named them of a woman’s bosoms. That Frenchy must have really been missing female companionship.

  None of that was important at the moment, and he banished the thoughts. “Weeping Woman Rock is about fifty miles northeast of the fort. When is Hanging Dog supposed to meet those damn gunrunners?”

  “Sometime today. That is all I know.”

  Nathan frowned. White men ... selling guns to the Indians so the weapons could be used to slaughter innocent people. It was hard to conceive of anything more despicable.

  A thought suddenly blazed through his brain. “I don’t reckon you heard any of those hostiles mention the names of the men selling those guns to them.”

  “No. Why does it matter now?”

  “It doesn’t, I suppose.” Nathan couldn’t stop thinking about that double diamond pattern etched into the stock of the rifle he carried, as well as on the Winchesters he had seen that were gathered up from the dead Sioux. Noah Crimmens had told him that mark meant the guns had been distributed by the company belonging to the sutler, Jake Farrow.

  Farrow had to be up to his neck in the gunrunning, Nathan thought. He suddenly wondered if Dietrich Bucher might be, as well. If Bucher was crooked, he wouldn’t want Nathan nosing around the fort. That would explain the ambushes. And Farrow could have been the man with the shotgun ...

  Red Buffalo spoke, yanking him back to more pressing problems than figuring out who was responsible for the gunrunning. “Depending on when those men turn over the rifles to Hanging Dog, the column might be able to get back to the fort in time to save some of the people there. I don’t believe they could arrive in time to stop the Sioux attack entirely.”

  “They have to try. There’s nothing else we can do.”

  “If anyone back there does survive, Stark, it will be thanks to you. If you had waited and not found Hanging Dog’s camp when you did, it would have been too late. The column would not have gotten back to the fort until long after the attack.” Red Buffalo paused, then said, “So by saving me, you may have saved others as well. You did not risk your life simply for a filthy redskin after all.”

  “Yeah, well ... maybe some redskins aren’t quite as filthy as others.”

  Red Buffalo laughed. “Keep it up, Stark, and you may become positively enlightened.”

  “Don’t hold your damn breath.”

  * * *

  The eastern sky gradually turned red and gold with the approach of the sun.

  In the light, Nathan could see better, so when he glanced over at Red Buffalo and noticed the raw, ugly marks on the Crow’s face, he stiffened in surprise. “Damn it, what happened to you? It looks like those Sioux squaws took coals from that fire and put ’em right on your face.” He had wondered earlier if Red Buffalo had been subjected to such torture.

  “That is exactly what they did. They wanted to hear me scream. I did not.”

  “Yeah, I believe that.”

  “They would have gotten around to doing worse today, if you had not come along and freed me. For that, I am obliged to you, Stark.”

  “We’ve helped each other out enough times I reckon we ought to just consider it square between us from now on. Wasn’t necessarily what I wanted, but hell, a man can’t just keep banging his head against a wall forever, can he?”

  Red Buffalo grunted. “Some men do. Hanging Dog will never change. He is too full of hate. Perhaps he has good reason to feel that way. We don’t know everything that has happened to him in his life, or to those he loved.”

  Nathan didn’t say anything. He couldn’t bring himself to defend any of the hostiles, no matter what their motivations might be. But there was no point in wasting his breath vilifying them.

  Delia would probably regard that slight change in attitude as progress. That reminded him of Delia and sent a renewed sense of urgency coursing through him. “Blast it, where’s that column? We ought to be getting there any time now.”

  “This is the right trail?”

  Nathan blew out a scoffing breath. He hadn’t been lost in years, and he damn sure didn’t intend to start now.

  Sure enough, just a few minutes later the higher ground where the soldiers were camped came into view. Smoke from cooking fires rose into the early morning air. Somebody was bound to have noticed that he wasn’t there. Seems they would be wondering what had happened to him.

  They surely wouldn’t be expecting him to show up with Red Buffalo, along with the shocking news about the gunrunning and Hanging Dog’s plan to attack Fort Randall.

  Some sentries spotted them coming, and Captain Jameson rode out to meet them, accompanied by several troopers.

  As the men reined in, Jameson frowned. “The next time you’re going off on your own, Stark, you need to let someone know.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Captain, I found Red Buffalo,” Nathan replied coolly. “I’ve also got news for the colonel.”

  “You found the hostiles’ camp?” Jameson’s voice betrayed his eagerness.

  “We’d better just make our report to the colonel,” Nathan said. “Saves time that way.”

  “I concur,” Red Buffalo said.

  Jameson looked irritated, but he jerked his head in a curt nod. “Very well. I don’t know if he’s awake yet, but we’ll go and see.”

  “Sun’s over the horizon,” Nathan pointed out.

  Jameson ignored the comment and turned his horse back toward the camp.

  A few minutes later, he, Nathan, and Red Buffalo walked up to Colonel Ledbetter’s tent. Nathan had turned Buck over to one of the hostlers and told the man to take good care of the horse. Buck had been on his last legs by the time they got there, although Nathan felt like he would be all right with plenty of rest. Red Buffalo’s pony had been worn out, too, although still in better shape than Buck.

  The colonel had left Corporal Cahill back at the fort, but a private had been posted at the tent’s entrance to serve as a combination guard and aide. The soldier came to attention and saluted Captain Jameson.

  “Civilian scouts Stark and Red Buffalo have returned and have a report for the colonel,” Jameson said.

  Ledbetter was awake and heard what Jameson said. He called, “Captain! Bring them in here, immediately!”

  The private held the canvas entrance flap aside. Jameson led the way into the tent and saluted the colonel. Nathan and Red Buffalo followed.

  Ledbetter was sitting at a camp table eating breakfast. He was fully dressed, and even in the rugged Dakota Territory badlands, his uniform was clean and creased and the glass in his spectacles sparkled. He looked like he was ready to step out onto the parade ground back at Fort Randall and review the troops. He took a sip of coffee and then patted his lips with a napkin as he set the cup down.

  “Mister Stark, I intend to write a letter to the War Department reprimanding you for your actions during this campaign and recommending that you be relieved of your post as a scout for the army. You seem totally unwilling to acclimate yourself to military discipline.”

  Nathan stared at the officer, completely taken aback by Ledbetter’s harsh words. “What are you talking about, Colonel?” he demanded. “The fact that I rode off last night without telling anybody where I was going?”

  Ledbetter tipped his head back slightly and thrust his jaw out. “For all anyone knew, you deserted.”

  “Well, that would be a good trick, since I’m not actually in the army.”

  “I have nothing more to say to you, sir.” Ledbetter turned his head to look at Red Buffalo. “Where have you been?”

  “Captured by the Sioux and held prisoner in Hanging Dog’s camp.”

  “Then you located the host
iles,” Ledbetter said as he leaned forward. “Excellent work.”

  “Yes, I located them. And they would have killed me if not for Stark. He risked his life to steal into the camp and free me, and then we were able to get away. ”

  Ledbetter glanced at Nathan again and grunted. Clearly, he couldn’t bring himself to offer any congratulations.

  “But none of that is important now,” Red Buffalo went on.

  “I should say not.” Colonel Ledbetter stood up from the chair where he’d been sitting. “We have to get ready to move. Red Buffalo, you will lead us back to the enemy camp, where we will fall upon and destroy Hanging Dog and his forces if he refuses to surrender. Captain, pass the order to have the men ready to ride as quickly as possible.”

  Jameson started to salute again but stopped when Nathan said, “Wait just a damned minute, Colonel.”

  “I’ll listen to no more of your insubordination, Stark—”

  “You can’t destroy Hanging Dog and his men because they’re not there,” Nathan broke in. “They’ve gone to meet with some gunrunners, take delivery of another shipment of Winchesters, and then attack the fort. They figure on wiping Fort Randall and everybody in it right off the face of the earth!”

  CHAPTER 33

  Ledbetter stared at Nathan for a long moment and then sniffed. “Nonsense.”

  “What?” Nathan couldn’t believe what he was hearing—and seeing, because the colonel had started to shake his head stubbornly.

  “You’re mistaken, Stark. Not even Hanging Dog would dare to attack a fort of the United States Army.”

  Red Buffalo said, “Stark is right, Colonel. He knows this because I told him, and I know it because I heard the Sioux talking about it while I was their prisoner.”

  “Then you misunderstood what you heard. You are, after all, a Crow and not a Sioux. Perhaps some of the nuances of their language escape you.”

  Red Buffalo’s burned face was set in stony lines. Nathan thought he looked like he was about to leap right over that fancy little table and go after Ledbetter. Nathan felt like doing the same thing himself.