Enemy Of My Soul
Part II of III
Enemy of My Soul
by
Frances Rolfe
Rating: NC-17, Slash, rape, violence, lang, rape, X-Over
Key: ****** Scene change, Italics Thoughts, Sioux Language, *** Flashback
Summary: Duncan finds himself in the Battle of the Little Big Horn in 1876.
Disclaimer: HL The Series and its characters belong to Panzer/Davis. Dances With Wolves and its characters were created by Michael Blake. I merely borrow them for a time.
A/N: I would like to acknowledge Highlander: The Series for excerpts from the episodes 'The Gathering' and 'Something Wicked.' Also, Carmino Gadelica for the Gaelic Hearth Blessing.
Part II
As they rode, Mac found himself watching the other man. Dunbar had an economical, athletic build and move to him. Duncan flushed and dropped his gaze. Another image and smell then bombarded his senses, that of his nose pressed into a pile of smelly saddle blankets while he was forcefully penetrated time after gut-wrenching time. He felt the blood drain from his face and glanced down to see that his hands were now sweaty and trembling.
"Duncan, are you all right?"
MacLeod jerked his face up and saw that Christine had eased her horse up beside him and was looking at him with concern filled eyes. He shook his head and squared his shoulders. "Nothing's wrong. I'm good."
Dunbar glanced back at them and smiled. If he'd noticed anything, he didn't acknowledge it but kept on riding.
* * * * * *
MacLeod saw that the island was holy ground. It would make a good place for him to live in peaceful seclusion and give him a break from the Immortal game. After being there a while, MacLeod sought out the local shaman and received permission to stay and build a cabin. He felled some trees and began working on his refuge.
* * * * * *
Duncan sighed and answered, "I don't care who does the killing, I'm tired of it...tired of the endless, mindless fighting. Tired of death."
"You can't quit."
"I didn't ask for your permission, Connor." Mac looked at him a moment and then picked up his tools and resumed working on the cabin.
Connor stood there a moment and happened to glance down at a large boulder in front of him. He brushed off thcruscrusted lichens and saw ancient petroglyphs etched upon it. He smiled and turned back to his headstrong former student. "Now I know why you chose this island. It's holy ground."
"That's right but I did ask permission of the Old Ones to build my cabin here." For some unknown reason, he didn't mention his new friends that had led him here or what had happened on the trail.
"Really? And?"
"They didn't say no." Duncan exchanged a tight smile with his kinsman.
"No Immortal can fight here...ever." Connor glanced around at the scenery. The lake was smooth and reflecting the early morning light. Honking gulls were flying about the abundant growth of trees, both on the island and the shore. "Beautiful sanctuary."
"I'm glad you approve," Duncan retorted, flashing a grin that was half-ironic and half not. "Connor, the battle between Good and Evil can do without me for a little while."
"Maybe, but you can't stay out of it forever."
"Not forever, but for a while."
"They'll find you."
"Eventually."
Connor tarried with him a few more days to help his kinsman. Duncan had found a wide slab of dark slate stone that became the hearthstone for his cabin. He intended for it to face the north, as was Gaelic custom. After building a fire, Connor dug into his sporran and removed a small flat piece of iron. It was pointed at one end and had crosspieces like a knife. He held it out to Duncan. "Here, I'm not sure why I've been saving this, but it'll do to bless the hearthstone."
Duncan was touched at his old teacher's thoughtfulness. He took it carefully from Connor and nodded. "Thank you."
Standing near where the stone would be laid, Duncan held the knife up by its tip so that it formed a cross. He then quietly spoke the words of blessing.
"God, bless the world and all that is therein.
God, bless the eye that is in my head.
And bless, God, the handling of my hand,
What time I rise in the morning early,
What time I lie down late in bed,
Bless my rising in the morning early,
And my lying down late in bed."
He then touched Connor and himself with the blade and finished, "God, protect the house and the household. Let the fire of thy blessing burn forever upon us, O God." When he'd finished, he dug a small hole in the earth, placed the knife into it and covered it back up, firming the ground with the flat of his hand. Connor then helped him pick up the slab of rock and laid it into place directly over the buried iron.
The elder kinsman then stepped over to the fire and removed a burning brand from it. He walked around the cabin foundation, clockwise, three times. As he did so, he chanted the ages old Gaelic blessing on the hearth which had numerous stanzas to it. When he came to one of the four directions, north, south, east and west, he paused and swept the burning twig in a wide arc before moving to the next one. At the chant's final verse, he handed the brand to Duncan, who in turn, laid it in a pile of kindling he'd placed where the fireplace would be.
Mac ended the ritual by murmuring,
"The sheltering of the king of kings be yours.
"The sheltering of Jesus Christ be yours,
The sheltering of the spirit of healing be yours."
When he'd said that line, he exchanged a small smile with Connor in acknowledgment of their immortality, then finished with,
"From evil deed and quarrel,
From evil dog and red dog."
Later that night, Connor was awakened by Duncan tossing restlessly in his blankets and mumbling something unintelligible like, "No, don't." This wasn't the first night it had occurred and Connor knew something was on Duncan's mind. Try as he might, he hadn't been able to convince him to share what had happened. Duncan remained closed off, more stubborn even than himself, and that was saying something. Still, he tried again the next day to get him to speak of it. He was harshly rebuked.
"I said it was nothing, Connor! Now, leave it at that!"
The elder MacLeod did not respond further and resumed his journey the next morning. Sooner or later, Duncan would have to confront his demons. "Oh, well," Connor mumbled as he shouldered his pack. He spoke his kinsman's name in lieu of a good-bye and followed the trail back to civilization.
* * * * * *
He hadn't intended to leave the island for another several years, but he had a visitor in April, 1876, Kolt'ec. "Jim," Mac greeted as he helped his friend drag his canoe up onto the bank. "Good to see you."
Kolt'ec answered, "Good to see you, too."
The Immortals shook hands in the warrior's fashion, forearm to forearm. "Come up to the cabin. I'll make us some coffee,"ncanncan invited.
Jim reached down into the boat and removed his pack, swinging it up onto his shoulder. "Sounds fine, Mac." He looked around at the place MacLeod had made his own. "Nice place."
The Scot nodded. "Yes, it's peaceful."
A bit later, the two men sat in front of the cabin's fireplace, a tin of cof coffee laced with a dram of whiskey in their hands. They exchanged tidbits of news at first. Then, Duncan said, "What brings you here into the territory?"
"The situation is unfavorable in the Black Hills."
"What do you mean?"
Last winter, the Commissioner of Indian Affairs ordered all Sioux and Cheyenne that were off the reservations to come in and report by January 31st or the army would be sent to bring them in."
MacLeod chuckled at the absurdity of the order. "In the middle of winter?"
Kolt'ec smiled. "That's the message Crazy Horse sent. He's the War Chief of the Oglalas. He said something about it being very cold and the snows were deep. His people and ponies would've died."
Duncan interjected, "They're not doing anything wrong, are they? The Sioux?"
Jim's lined face sobered. "No, but Three Stars Crook moved north from Fort Fetterman in the Moon of Snowblind (March) on the old Bozeman Trail."
Mac had heard of Three Star General George Crook. He was an established Indian fighter who distinguished himself against the Apaches in the southwest. Many considered him the best general because although he was relentless in his pursuit of the Indians, he was also open to bargaining with them across a peace table.
"What happened when Crook moved north?"
"A mixed band ortherthern Cheyenne and Oglala Sioux left the Red Cloud Agency and went over into the Powder River country, hunting buffalo and antelope. They hadn't any food left. They joined up with some nonagency people and camped a few miles from where the two rivers, the Little Powder and the Powder meet."
"Who all were there?"
"Two Moon, Little Wolf, White Bull and some others. And, I was there with Ten Bears' tribe."
MacLeod frowned and sat forward. If Ten Bears had moved his camp, it meant the others, including John and Christine Dunbar had gone with them. He waited for Kolt'ec to confirm his thoughts.
"Part of Crook's advance cavalry attacked the village on March 17th. They had no warning. The camp was peaceful. The army shot up the camp and ran off the horse herd, which was almost 1500 head. Kicking Bird and Wind In His Hair and the others started the women, children and old people on up the rugged slope of the canyon where they'd camped. The warriors hid behind ledges and rocks and held the army off until the women could escape across the Powder River."
Kolt'ec was silent for a while, the only sound was that of the snap and crackle of the fire. Duncan rose from where he sat by the hearth and walked over to the table in the room. He picked up the bottle of scotch they had used to lace their coffee, and poured some into his empty cup. He reflected on what Jim had told him and studied his friend standing by the fire. The Hayoka seemed lost in the memory of what had happened. His face was grim, his body tense. When he spoke again, his voice was low and sounded as far away as his thoughts. Mac had to strain to hear him.
"They burned the whole camp, the food, everything. Later, Two Moons, Wind In His Hair, Shumanitu and some others returned and took back their horses while the cavalry was asleep in their tents." The Holy Man sipped his now cold coffee. "It took three days in below zero degree snowy weather to make it to Crazy Horse's camp. We only had a few buffalo robes and very little food left."
Mac's face was rigid with anger. "The bluecoats don't stop, do they?"
Jim shook his head. "No."
"What did Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull do?"
"They talked around council fires. The young ones are mad and ready to fight, but the old ones convinced them to wait."
"Where will it all end, Jim?"
Kolt'ec sighed. "I don't know, but it won't be good, for either the Indians or the white eyes. There's one other thing, Mac. They've found the yellow rocks in the sacred mountains."
"Gold? They've found gold?"
Jim nodded. "It will not be long until the whites push the People off their land."
Gold having been discovered in the Black Hills had been the excuse the money grubbing land grabbers had wanted to move in and try to claim more territory. Duncan gazed into the fire and sneered under his breath, "Peace treaties aren't worth any more than the paper they were written on. They last only until the white eyes decide they want more land. They won't be satisfied until they have it all."
The Indian nodded and was silent for a long while. Duncan knew he was keeping something from him. "What aren't you telling, Jim?"
Kolt'ec met the Scot's gaze. "I saw Sergeant Travers and Kern were with the cavalry."
Jim watched his friend's face experience a myriad of reactions. Duncan's shoulders became rigid and his mouth and cheeks hard as granite. He swallowed the remainder of the whiskey he'd poured into his cup and sat down heavily in the chair. He never said a word the rest of the evening.
His nightmares returned that night.
* * * * * *
Jim did not say a word when, a few days later, they packed up a few necessities, donned their buckskins and journeyed east to Montana territory and
Paha Sapa, the
Black Hills.
* * * * * *
Moon of Making Fat
(June, 1876)
MacLeod and Kolt'ec reached Rosebud Valley and the Lakota camp several days later. Halting his pony upon a rise overlooking the encampment, MacLeod saw tipis stretched all along the winding Wind River plain. He counted roughly at least 1500 lodges, which meant there were around two thousand braves in the village. Mac recognized Cheyenne, Santee and Arapaho as well as Ogalala, Minneconjou, Brule, Sans Arcs, Blackfoot and Hunkpapa Lakota. Part of them were from the reservations but a majoritythemthem were tribes that refused to relent to the Army's demands.
To all the Indian nations the Paha Sapa was the center of their world. It was a place of holy mountains. Warriors went there to speak with
Waken Tanka or the Great Spirit and awaited His visions. In 1868 the Great Father in Washington, Andrew Johnson, declared the Black Hills to be worthless. He gave the land by treaty, forever, to the Sioux. Now that gold had been discovered, there would be a mad clamor. Mac expected that, eventually, the Indians would be forced to sell their beloved lands. It wouldn't matter to anyone in Washington D.C., the capital, that the tribes would never agree to the sale.
The Indians also vividly remembered
Pahuska, Long Hair Custer, who had slaughtered Black Kettle's entire band of Cheyenne on the Washita back in '68. Now, Pahuska and others were being sent to make the Indian nations submit to white authority. MacLeod knew they wouldn't go peacefully. Sitting Bull even had a song about the Black Hills.
'The Black Hills is my land and I love it
And whoever interferes
Will hear this gun.'
The Immortals were welcomed into Ten Bears' Camp. The tribe was now part of Sitting Bull's Hunkpapa Lakotas. With the increasing unrest between both sides, the chief, Kicking Bird and the rest of the council thought there would be greater safety in numbers. The two Immortals were given sleeping spaces in Shumanitu Taka Owaci's tent. Both he and his wife, Stands With A Fist, were happy to see the Highlander and his friend. The three men talked long into the night of the events of the past few months. John Dunbar knew deep in his heart where the confrontations would eventually end. The whites and army were too many. The Lakota and Cheyenne would be inundated in the flood. Still, he was loyal to his clan members and would not desert them.
Mac had heard of the legendary sun dance but had never seen one performed. He knew it was held during the full moon of either June or July. This year, it fell upon the early part of June. The dance or
Wiwanke Wachipi was a rite of prayer. The dancers taking part in it would offer their bodies as a sacrifice to gain the people both strength and understanding. A large tipi was erected in the center of the camp. Sage was placed all around the inside of it. A rawhide circle painted red, representing the sun, was in its center. Within the circle was painted a smaller one in blue, which represented Wakan Tanka. Many singers came to sing sacred songs. A large drum (its roundness representing the universe) beat the pulse of the heart. Inside the center circle was placed a cottonwood tree that had been ceremonially obtained. The rustling represented the enemy who has been attacked and conquered. The interior then became the sweat lodge. All of the ritual objects and the tree were purified with the smoke of sweet grass.
Sitting Bull or
Tatanka-Iyotanka was himself one of the painted dancers. A wreath of sage was placed on his head, wrists and ankles. The other dancers were similarly attired. Each dancer then described what he would sacrifice, either pieces of flesh or piercing of the flesh. Flesh represented ignorance, so the tearing or cutting of the flesh represented freeing the body from the bonds of ignorance. The offerings were then made to Wakan Tanka, the Earth or the Four Powers of the Four Directions.
For three days Sitting Bull led the others in the ritual dances. He offered prayers to Waken Tanka and using an asharsharp knife, slashed himself one hundred times for his sacrifice, fifty on each arm. Upon the third day, he fell into a trance. When he aroused from it, he stepped out of the ceremonial tent and called the tribe together.
MacLeod and the others gathered and sat around the captivating man.
When they were quiet and listening, Sitting Bull began. "I have seen a vision, a great vision! In my vision, I heard a voice crying out, 'I give you these because they have no ears.' When I looked into the sky, I saw soldiers falling like grasshoppers with their heads down and their hats falling off. They were falling right into our camp. Because the
wasicu, (white men) have no ears and will not listen, Waken Tanka is giving these soldiers to us to be killed." He paused for effect, then added, "One thing you must remember. Do not remove anything from these wasicu. They are a gift and it will be a bad omen upon us all if it is done."
At first the entire group was silent. Then, shouts of war erupted with a deafening noise. Duncan's heart was in his mouth for fear of what would happen not only to the bluecoats but to all of his friends here.
* * * * * *
A pipe was passed around the circle of men and each man took his turn, waving the sacred smoke from the ceremonial pipe into their nostrils, as was their custom. Then, Wind In His Hair spoke to Gall. "It is said that a Cheyenne hunting party saw bluecoats camped here in the valley, along the Tongue River.
Gall,
Pizi, was a striking Hunkpapa War Chief who had been orphaned when he was young. Sitting Bull had adopted him as his younger brother. He'd risen to become his older brother's lieutenant and most trusted aide. He answered, "That is what they say."
"Do you know who their leader is?" asked Shumanitu Taka Owaci.
Gall shook his head no. "My brother sent them word to not come any closer. We will watch, never fear. We do not wish to start any trouble until the time is right, but we will not flee from it either."
MacLeod's brown eyes met Dances With Wolves' bright green ones. No words were exchanged, but both men knew the army would persist until all of the Indian Nations were subdued. For some unknown reason, a cold chill chased along Duncan's spine.
* * * * * *
June 17, 1876
Pushing the thoughts aside, he said to himself,
they're only images. They'll pass.
The village's relative quiet was suddenly shattered when a hunter rode into the camp at a dead run, sounding the wolf howl of danger. He sharply pulled back on the reins and his paint war pony slid to a halt, its haunches nearly touching the ground. Men popped out of their homes in various stages of undress.
Duncan saw Kicking Bird and others hurrying out to the hunter. He then saw Crazy Horse striding swiftly toward Sitting Bull's tent. Mac knew Crazy Horse was a brilliant tactician. His successes against the People's (Sioux) enemies were almost legendary. Physically, the Oglala chief was a small, intense man. He walked alone, speaking to no one. His black eyes were fearsome and seemed to look into other worlds. They reminded him of some older Immortals' eyes, like Kolt'ec's, who'd lived a very long time. And, sometimes he had seen his friend Darius' eyes look like that when the former general and current priest told him of his time with the Goths. Yet, Crazy Horse, which in Lakota was
Tashunkewitko, was mortal. Duncan had heard him say, "One could not sell the earth upon which the People walk."
It was decided that half the warriors would be left to guard the camp and Crazy Horse would lead the others to attack Three Stars' army the next morning. As everyone moved to obey their leaders' decision, MacLeod fell in step with Dunbar. He spoke quietly so that only his friend could hear. "Will you be able to kill the bluecoats tomorrow?"
Dances With Wolves hesitated briefly and replied, "The army considers me a traitor. They were taking me to Fort Hayes to hang when Wind In His Hair and others rescued me. I helped killed those soldiers. I was happy to do so. Nothing's changed. I will kill them tomorrow, too." He then paused in his walk and turned to the Scot, peering deeply into the Immortal's guarded coffee orbs, and asked, "Will you?"
Duncan hadn't expected his question to be turned upon himself. He shrugged his shoulders and answered softly, "I don't know."
The war party left that evening just after sunset. MacLeod rode alongside John Dunbar. Kolt'ec remained in the camp along with Kicking Bird, Two Moons, Ten Bears and the other chiefs including Sitting Bull.
* * * * * *
John and Mac climbed up to the top of the canyon to scout out the approaching army. They estimated Crook had nearly one thousand cavalry, infantry and scouts. With the swelling Indian ranks, it would be a close fight. The two men descended back to where Crazy Horse awaited and informed him what they'd seen. The chief nodded without a word.
Time passed and from what MacLeod could tell by the position of the sun, it was around eight o'clock. He still wasn't sure about his decision to ride with this raid, but he didn't want them to doubt his reasons for being here either. He sided wholeheartedly with the People. Mac would defend them to the best of his ability. Yet, if he were honest with himself, he actually wanted a confrontation with Ben Travers. That was the true reason why he'd left his island and returned to this country.
Crook halted his column just short of the canyon and the Indians' trap. It appeared he was stopping for something to eat. However, before Crazy Horse could signal an attack, Crook's scouts spotted them and began firing. The Sioux warriors chased after the retreating men who were trying to get back to the main body with the news.
MacLeod was clad in simpsimple buckskin pants and shirt, wearing moccasins, with his hair tied back with a leather thong. He double-checked that his tomahawk was tucked into his waistband. He, along with most of the braves, also had a repeating rifle. Mac rode out with the others and levered a shell into his gun. Dropping his reins and guiding his horse with his knees, he commenced firing at the startled bluecoats.
Crook's scouts were the only ones who weren't caught off guard. They met Crazy Horse's attack with their own. As the two groups fought, MacLeod spotted Kern and felt his quickening. He was in among the Crow and Shoshone scouts. A blind rage akin to what he felt just after Little Deer and Kahani's deaths filled the Scot. Shouting his own war cry, MacLeod lost awareness of anything other than his adversary. Kern spotted him and charged, but before they could do battle, Kern was struck in the right shoulder by an arrow. Mac yelled in outrage. There was no way he could draw attention to himself and his hated enemy without everyone else realizing the truth of his immortality.
So, instead, he switched his targets to the other scouts and army troops who'd joined the foray. MacLeod was vaguely aware of most of Crook's cavalry saddling up and moving off away from the fight. He yelled at Dunbar, "What's Crook up to?"
Dances With Wolves, himself busy fighting on horseback with a Shoshone, shook his head that he didn't know. Meanwhile, Crazy Horse called his men back to regroup. MacLeod trotted his horse back towards the canyon and took a quick sip of water from his water skin. He silently wondered why the canny leader wasn't following the cavalry.
Dunbar rode up beside him and looked questioningly at the Immortal. "Who was that? The one you wanted to kill so bad?" He'd not ever seen such a look of hatred on his friend's face.
"It was Kern. He's like me. He killed Little Deer and Kahani. And I'll kill him someday."
John started to say something else, but he was cut off by the order to attack the remainder of Crook's forces instead of following after the departing cavalrymen.
The morning wore on with a series of charges and counter-charges from both sides. Crazy Horse was receiving reinforcements. Mac thought he'd seen one of Crook's men, probaa coa courier, riding off toward the direction the other half of the army took. Before long, the other part of the bluecoats had returned and was assaulting Crazy Horse's men from the rear. The Lakota were caught in a pincers movement.
The Oglala chief proved his ingenuity, however, when he instead galloped his men around Three Stars' line and got away. They had small skirmishes but the main battle was over. Duncan reckoned the time as being around midday. Their own losses were relatively light. In fact, Mac thought they'd only lost maybe ten or so warriors. He had a hunch Crook's were a lot more. Crazy Horse had fought well, brilliantly, in fact. He was a force to be reckoned with, one the bluecoats would not forget.
* * * * * *
When everyone had eaten their fill, Christine moved outside. She saw Sitting Bull's tent fall. The tribalder'der's tent was the first to be taken down as a signal to the others that they were moving on. Only then did she begin pulling up the tent-pins of her own lodge that were used to keep the tent-cloth stretched. Duncan moved to help her by removing the round, slender sticks that fastened it in front. Then, together, they folded the cloth into pleats on each side, bringing it together in two long plaits at the back pole. The pole itself was then tipped backward and allowed to fall onto the ground. The woman loosened the cloth from the upper part of the pole and rapidly doubled it up into a compact bundle. No words were exchanged but when the procedure was finished, Stands With A Fist nodded her thanks.
Dances With Wolves had finished packing their belongings while Kolt'ec had rounded up their ponies. Christine's horse was elected to have the tent poles, two on either side, be lashed to its back. A blanket was then fastened over the trailinge ene ends and their belongings were lashed into place on the travois. The final act was when the kettle and coffeepot were emptied and added to the pile. When they were finished and aboard their animals, the tribe moved off toward the distant hills. Mac looked back and saw, partly in wonder, that nothing was left of the camp except circles of trampled grass, each one with a pile of ashes in its center.
* * * * * *
Everyone in camp soon acted as though they had put the incident with Three Stars Crook behind them. It was, after all, the time of the Summer Gathering, which meant feasting and playing games. One played by the men was the 'Great Hoop Game' or
Painyankapi. The implements consisted of ir oir of hoops, at least two feet in diameter, and two pairs of throwing sticks. The hoops were rolled along the ground and each participant attempto tto throw the two pairs of sticks at the hoop as it passed them. The game was also called 'Shooting the buffalo,' the hoop representing the encampment of all the Lakota tribes. It was said to bring success to the hunt.
Another one MacLeod saw was the 'Elk Game.' A ring of sinew was wrapped with a thong about four inches wide. It was tossed into the air and each player tried to catch it upon his four-foot long stick. This one in Lakota called
Kaga woskate, was to secure good fortune in the elk hunt.
There were others including the 'Moccasin Game' in which a small bit of horn was concealed in one or the other of one player's hands. The other one guessed which hand. It seemed to Mac to be a variant of the old pea in a shell game. The other popular one was a javelin game,
Hutanacuta. A simple straight stick was hurled as far as possible. This one reminded him a little of the caber toss that he had been so good at as a youth in Scotland. The cabers, of course, had been much larger than the sticks used in this game.
Jim Kolt'ec confidedvatevately to Mac that General Sherman had asked the Oglala (whose name meant 'many scattered ones') to cease their field games in the Treaty of 1868. Of course, since it was obvious that the white eyes had not kept any of the bargains they'd made with The People, the Sioux didn't feel they were bound to the treaty agreements either. Hence, all the tribes met every summer for the hunts and games.
The next several days were peaceful ones that provided relaxation from the tense atmosphere immediately following the army's attack and Crazy Horse's successful retaliation. Ten Bears' camp was located at the far southern end of the encampment with Sitting Bull's Hunkpapas. MacLeod spent most days with Dances With Wolves, Wind In His Hair and others of their tribe watching the games and hunting. Jim Kolt'ec, on the other hand, usually hung around the other older chiefs, talking, smoking a pipe and reminiscing of older, more peaceful times.
* * * * * *
June 24, 1876
"Do you think Three Stars Crook was the answer to your prophecy?" Two Moons asked the recognized leader of the entire encampment.
Sitting Bull was silent for a moment and then answered, "No, I do not believe the victory on the Rosebud was the vision I saw of the soldiers falling into our camp."
"But, there have been no other signs of Three Stars or any other bluecoats between there and het tht the Greasy Grass," spoke up Kill Eagle.
"That is true, but we must be alert. I think there will be more."
Kolt'ec did not participate in the discussion but he agreed with the Hunkpapa Chief. There would be more army attacks. Back east, the United States was celebrating their one hundredth birthday as a nation. There was talk of President U.S. Grant's month-long birthday party and The Manifest Destiny, which meant the whites would eventually control the entire North American continent. Jim knew all these things but the men here with him were not Immortals. They had not seen civilizations rise and fall as he had. It would not do any good to tell them. They were proud, independent people. Sitting Bull was the epitome of all freedom loving Lakotas. Jim hated to think of the men's fates who sat here with him.
The Immortal and the others were then suddenly interrupted by a scout rushing into the tent. He informed them that Long Hair Custer and his bluecoats had been seen along the Rosebud. The tent erupted in discussion. Meanwhile, Sitting Bull thanked the messenger. He then turned to the council and ordered additional scouts to be sent out, to keep track of the 'chief of thieves.' It had been Custer's flagrant disregard of the Treaty of 1868 that had lost so much of the land promised in the agreement Red Cloud and the others had signed.
The latest news sent cold chills up Kolt'ec's spine.
* * * * * *
Mac smiled at the memory. Back in the Highlands, it would've been most impolite to return a dirty cauldron. He quickly rolled up his sleeping bed and stepped outside to go down to the river to wash up. A party of hunters was already heading out for the large herd of antelope that had been reported nearby. Others were stirring, performing their usual morning routines.
Another one out early was Wind In His Hair. The tall warrior was standing near an open space watching some boys play warriors. They were arguing over who would be Crazy Horse and who would be Three Stars Crook. The two men exchanged a smile. Boys and their games never changed. As he watched them, the 'war' progressed until the warrior boy killed Three Stars. The child then began using a stick, as though it were a knife, making believe he was dismembering his enemy. Duncan turned to his friend. "May I ask you a question?"
Wind In His Hair nodded.
"Why do warriors remove your enemies' arms and legs?"
"Because when we leave this world and go to our eternal land, our enemiesld fld follow us. But, if they do not have arms to hold a weapon or legs to walk or eyes to see or ears to hear, they cannot follow us and we will be safe."
MacLeod nodded and tried to ignore the frisson of unease that fluttered through him. He only hoped he wouldn't ever be considered their 'enemy.'
Wind In His Hair then asked Mac if he'd like to go along on the daily hunt. They were leaving in a half-hour. MacLeod nodded yes and returned to his friends' lodge to gather his things. Quickly eating, he collected his weapons, strapping the katana to his back. He'd not had any need for his sword until now, but his instincts told him to take it with him. He then joined the other men and rode toward the north.
* * * * * *
Her attention was diverted, however, when she heard a giggle from one of the other women. It was Pte-San-W-Win-Win, a cousin of Sitting Bull. "That is all you think of, Stands With A Fist, your fine-looking mate!"
Stands laughed and pointed her finger at her friend. "That is because you are jealous that yours isn't as beautiful as mine is."
Black Shawl was Kicking Bird's woman. She had been working alongside her adopted daughter. "At least Shumanitu has teeth, Pte. Yours does not have any left!"
All the women laughed good-naturedly at the pleasant exchange and continued their work.
A bit later, Stands With A Fist looked to the south and noticed a cloud of dust a short distance from camp. "Shumanitu! Look!"
Dances With Wolves and Red Horse looked toward where Christine pointed. The invaders were about six or seven miles away, but already she could see the flashing sabers in the mid afternoon summer sun. Many bluecoats were attacking the village.
"Wasicu! Wasicu!" the women screamed and everyone ran toward the camp, their baskets of freshly picked turnips forgotten.
While Red Horse rushed to tell Sitting Bull, Dances With Wolves headed for his lodge to get his rifle. By the time he exited his tipi, the soldiers were racing into the village, shooting their guns. Everything was in chaos. Dogs were barking, women and children were screaming and running, trying to get up onto the horses that were stampeding through the village. Bullets were flying everywhere. John drew a bead on a soldier and fired, he then re-cocked it and ignored the now empty cartridge case that was simultaneously ejected on the repeater. Smoke from the gunfire blinded his eyes as he kept firing shell after shell on the men he'd once been a part of until he'd been accused of treason and deserting his post all those years ago.
He noticed the air was filled with a towering cloud of dust; he saw the glint of sunlight off the gun barrels, the flutter of a guidon he thought he recognized as belonging to the Seventh Cavalry and lead whistling overhead and smacking into a nearby tipi pole. The soldiers were galloping straight into the Hunkpapa camp.
Dunbar was dimly aware that Gall's wife and family were trying to escape north when two enlisted men shot them all down. Gall shouted in rage and fired his rifle until it was empty and then took out his tomahawk and jumped upon a rearing horse, dragging the soldier off it and bludgeoning him to death.
John's attention returned to his own safety when another of the soldiers rode him down, the horses' hooves striking him in the head and chest. He dimly heard Stands With A Fist scream his name before the blackness overtook him.
Stands With A Fist had been rushing after Black Shawl and Ten Bears' wife, Pretty Shield, when she saw her husband being stomped by one of the bluecoats on horseback. Heedless of her safety, she ran across to where he and and drew her knife to stab the one who'd done it. She didn't feel the bullet that pierced her side, nor the one that entered her chest. Her one final thought was that she would soon join Sumanitu Taka Owaci on the other side of life. Christine fell dead across her husband's body.
In the ensuing melee of confusion, Sitting Bull rushed out of his tent and proclaimed, "Warriors, we have everything to fight for and if we're defeated,shalshall have nothing to live for; therefore, let us fight like brave men!"
His shouts rallied his men and by this time, Crazy Horse, MacLeod and the others had returned to camp. Upon hearing the gunfire from Sitting Bull's campsite, they had rushed down to join the foray. Other warriors joined them and they fired their rifles and bows at the now retreating army. Mac had no idea how many men the bluecoats had, but he didn't think they had any idea of just how large a contingent of Indians had gathered along the Greasy Grass River which was also known to the whites as the Little Big Horn.
* * * * * *
--TBC--