No Greater Burden
Chapter Twenty-One
The following day, Sully brought the children to the reservation early in the morning. He wanted to spend as much time with Cloud Dancing and Running Wolf as possible during the days ahead. The illnesses afflicting the Indians made it difficult to see his brother as much as he would have liked, but it gave him an opportunity to help Running Wolf integrate into the tribe and to introduce his children to the Cheyenne. By sitting in on Cheyenne lessons taught by the elders and joining in Cheyenne games, he believed his children would not only learn to appreciate their ways, but they would also make new friends. The main disappointment in an otherwise satisfying visit was his uneasy relationship with Brian. Now that he was older, Sully had hoped to share more of the Cheyenne way of life with him. Instead, since their last argument, Brian had been avoiding him. What galled Sully even more was that Brian had declined yet another invitation to spend time with him at the reservation, to instead interview Agent Miles for an article he was writing on assimilation.
At dawn, Michaela had gone to the nearest town to wire for more quinine and other medicine, having almost depleted her supply. The new medicine was not expected to arrive until after they had left for home, but at least by ordering it, and leaving it behind for Cloud Dancing's use, she felt she was doing her small part to help the Cheyenne. Dorothy had accompanied her to town under the pretense of sending a wire to Loren, but Michaela knew it was an excuse to avoid the reservation.
Cloud Dancing had not spoken more than a few words to Dorothy since they arrived and none were more than mere pleasantries. The coolness between them hadn't thawed, and this caused Michaela to feel guilty about having been the one to talk Dorothy into coming on this trip. Her friend never said or did anything to spoil their enjoyment, but Michaela knew Dorothy was counting the days until they could begin their journey home.
It was early afternoon by the time Michaela and Dorothy rode back toward the reservation. The oppressive midday heat slowed their pace, giving the women a chance to fully absorb their surroundings. From a distance, the first glimpse of the reservation reminded Michaela of the Cheyenne village of her early days in Colorado Springs. She observed groups of men in conversation, women carrying kettles of water from the river, and children playing a game behind the wooden structures. But, as she moved closer, the true picture of life at Darlington came into focus. Log cabins now stood in place of tepees. The beautiful deerskin garments, adorned with beads and quillwork, were replaced by cotton skirts, trousers, and button down shirts; the moccasins replaced by hard leather shoes. Some older members of the tribe refused to abandon their traditional dress while many of the young attempted to blend the two cultures by wearing beads and medicine pouches under their cotton shirts. Though Michaela dressed herself and her family in western clothes, she felt profound sadness at seeing the Indians stripped of their native dress.
As they approached the center of the reservation, the women dismounted their horses and tied them to the railing outside the Indian Agent's office. Michaela's eyes scanned the grounds in search of her family. She smiled when she spotted Katie helping Night Crane decorate the robe for their lodge. Then she saw Sully standing with Running Wolf and Cloud Dancing along with other men from the tribe. When she caught Sully's eye, the sun rose in her face and she waved, letting him know she was there.
Michaela placed a hand on Dorothy's back. "Let's join Sully and Cloud Dancing. I think it's time you and Cloud Dancing talked," Michaela urged, nudging her forward.
Focusing her eyes on the men, Dorothy felt a surge of discomfort. "He looks busy. I don't think this is a good time. Why don't we join Night Crane? She's over there," Dorothy finished, pointing in the direction of their friend.
"You can't avoid him forever."
"I'm not avoiding him," Dorothy replied, a bit too sharply.
"It appears that you are," Michaela said, concerned that if Dorothy left without speaking to him, she might regret it for a long time. "This might be the last chance you'll ever have to spend time with him. I don't want you to have regrets when we get home."
"I have many regrets, Michaela," she responded softly as she adjusted her hat.
"Don't make this one of them," her friend persisted. "We should…" a young girl interrupted their conversation by waving her hand in front of Michaela.
"Please," the girl said, her voice quivering.
"May I help you?" Michaela replied warmly.
The girl was calmed by the kind eyes looking down at her. "Are you the…" she paused to search for the word. "The doctor?"
Michaela looked into the frightened brown eyes of the young girl who appeared to be about eight years of age. "I am. Do you need a doctor?"
"My sister…she's sick," the girl explained.
Michaela knelt to meet the child at eye level, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "If you take me to her, I will do my best to help her."
At her words, the girl's ragged breathing slowly returned to normal. She led the way to their lodge with Michaela and Dorothy close behind. When they arrived at a wooden cabin much like all the others, Michaela followed the girl inside while Dorothy waited outside to give them privacy. She knew Michaela would ask for her if she were needed.
Inside the cabin, Michaela noticed a child, no more than two years of age, crying in the corner. She was pale and skeletal. Michaela rushed to her side as the child recoiled in fear and cried even louder.
"What's the matter with her?" Michaela asked the older child.
"She cries and cries and…" The girl placed her head in her hands and started to cry now, too, lowering herself to the floor beside the doctor. "I don't know how to say."
Michaela put her arm around the girl. "Where is your mother?"
"Ehovanee'e."
"Gone?" Michaela didn't understand.
The girl lifted her head, surprised the doctor understood Cheyenne. "She got sick. She took the hanging road…" the girl said in Cheyenne as she wiped her tear-filled eyes.
"I'm sorry," Michaela replied. The younger girl's screams intensified. "It would be a big help to me if you could get your sister to lie down. I need to examine her." Michaela motioned the meaning with her hands since she wasn't sure how much English the child understood.
"Is my sister going to the hanging road?" the girl asked in a mix of Cheyenne and English. She straightened her sister's legs and carefully placed her arms at her side.
Though it had been many years since Michaela had used the Cheyenne language, over the past few days, words and phrases had come back to her. "I'm going to try to prevent that," she replied, reaching inside her bag for a stethoscope. "What is her name?"
"Little Sparrow," the girl replied in English. Her sister's wails continued coming in waves of fear and pain.
Michaela gently stroked Little Sparrow's hair in an attempt to make her more comfortable. "I won't hurt you. I need to find out where it hurts." She spoke in a soothing tone. At the doctor's gentle touch, the girl began to relax her rigid body. Then Michaela placed her hand on her stomach.
"Is that where it hurts?" Michaela asked.
"She can't keep food down," the older girl added. She continued to blend Cheyenne and English, but the doctor seemed to understand her.
Michaela listened to her stomach noises with her stethoscope, then lowered her hand to the child's abdomen and gently pressed against it in several places. She didn't feel an obstruction, nor was the pain localized. When Michaela finished her examination, Little Sparrow winced and moaned while holding her hands to her belly. Michaela reached for her bag and withdrew a bottle of bicarbonate. Then she turned toward the older child. "I'm going to give her some medicine that should settle her stomach. If she's not feeling better by tomorrow I want you to come find me. Cloud Dancing knows where I am. Do you understand?"
The girl nodded in reply as she watched the doctor administer medicine to her sister.
Meanwhile Dorothy continued to wait outside. She could hear the girl's agonizing screams and, more than once, she considered entering the cabin. Given how frightened the young girl was, she thought that could potentially make the situation worse. With a keen reporter's eye, Dorothy occupied her time by observing the Indians as they carried out their daily routine. There was a man repairing his lodge, two children chasing after a ball, and several men tending to their crops. She shook her head, wondering how anything grew in this arid soil.
Dorothy froze in place when during her casual observations Cloud Dancing came into view. He was heading straight toward her in a slow, steady gait. Her first instinct was to run inside to avoid him. Realizing how foolish she would look if he had already seen her, she remained outside with her eyes fixed on the direction he was headed, preparing the words she might say to him if they were eventually face to face. When Cloud Dancing stopped in front of a nearby lodge to speak with a young woman, Dorothy felt a strange mixture of relief and disappointment. Secure in the knowledge he hadn't seen her, she relished the moment to really look at him without the distracted nervousness she felt in his presence. Though he looked much thinner and was a bit older, she still felt the familiar flutter in her stomach as she watched him move. His eyes still sparkled when he smiled, and that smile made her body warm all over.
Dorothy studied the woman he had come to visit. By Cheyenne standards she would be regarded as plain. She was considerably younger than Cloud Dancing with a kind, round face, long raven hair, and large dark brown eyes. As she studied her slender form, she noticed a small mound barely suggesting the first signs of pregnancy. As Dorothy watched the relaxed and animated way the two interacted, she almost garnered the courage to walk over to join their conversation. That's when she noticed him lift his hand to gently brush away a strand of hair that had fallen in the young woman's face. Then she noticed a look in the woman's eyes. Dorothy knew that look. She had felt it herself. An ache rose up in her gut and she had to turn away, as a ribbon of jealousy wound around her, squeezing her tight. What appeared to be a friendly social exchange now seemed to be so much more. They were a couple.
Tears sprang to her eyes at the realization that what they had or might someday have was over. Dorothy told herself a thousand times that she and Cloud Dancing had no future together. She knew the speech by heart. Still, deep down, in her most private thoughts, that she rarely even allowed herself to hear, she couldn't help but hold out a tiny flicker of hope. Hope that if the world ever changed enough, they might someday find their way back to each other. The scene before her extinguished that last impossible dream forever. It hurt. But, through the pain, Dorothy also felt a strange sense of relief. It occurred to her that this could be the reason for Cloud Dancing's distance toward her. It wasn't that he didn't want to see her or even that he no longer considered her a friend. It was that he didn't know how to tell her he had fallen in love.
Inside the cabin, Michaela watched as Little Sparrow fell asleep in her older sister's arms. She wondered about this girl who carried such large responsibilities. "Netonesevehe?" Michaela asked in a low voice.
"Turtle," the girl replied.
Her name brought to mind an Indian legend of the sturdy turtle that carried the weight of the earth on his back, and she thought it fitting. "Who looks after you?" she asked, gathering her medicine and placing it in her bag.
"Heho'eehe."
"Where is your father now?"
"Ehotse'ohe."
"Does he work on the reservation?"
Turtle shook her head. "He takes supplies in wagons. He is gone many days," the girl answered in Cheyenne as she continued to stroke her sister's hair.
Michaela had heard that some of the Cheyenne had taken jobs hauling freight to Wichita. They were good jobs and hard to get, but it kept them away from their families for long periods of time. "Who takes care of you when he's away?"
"I do."
"You are so young. Surely, there are adults who look in on you?"
The little girl nodded. "Spotted Owl comes by when I go to school, but she could not help Little Sparrow. What is wrong with her?" she asked in Cheyenne.
Michaela had trouble understanding all the words, but captured just enough to understand her meaning. "I believe she ate something that upset her stomach. It might have been spoiled food. The medicine should make her feel better. For the next few days try to make sure she eats only bland food," she said, realizing that these children had so little food that they ate when they could. It would be difficult to follow her instructions.
"Bland?"
"Yes, food such as bread and broth."
"We do not get that."
"I'll see what I can do," Michaela said. She was determined to find some appropriate food for these children.
"Nea'ese."
"You're welcome. I will find Spotted Owl and ask her to come by today. I'll check on you and your sister tomorrow."
Michaela left the cabin weighed down by the hardship of the children, wishing there was something she could do to make their lives easier. With her mind preoccupied, she headed toward her friend. Dorothy was so absorbed in the interaction happening in front of her that she didn't hear Michaela approach.
"Dorothy, I need to find a woman named Spotted Owl," Michaela said, forming ideas in her mind about how to help these two little girls.
Dorothy didn't register the question as she continued to stare at the couple.
"What's so interesting?" Michaela asked, perplexed by Dorothy's demeanor.
Dorothy registered her voice through the thick cloud of her emotions. "Over there…Cloud Dancing."
Michaela followed Dorothy's gaze, curious about what had captured her friend's attention. "Oh my," Michaela said when she saw Cloud Dancing with a woman, a light blanket draped across their shoulders.
"Are you always so brave?" a voice startled Katie from behind. Since leaving Night Crane, she had been standing alone watching her brother play the kicking game with Eyes Like the Sky and some other boys from the reservation. She didn't hear anyone approach. When she turned to the sound of the voice, she noticed one of the boys from their encounter yesterday. "What did you say?"
When he was face to face with Katie, he hesitated. His palms were damp with sweat and the words he wanted to say had escaped from his mind. He had never spoken to a white girl before. She was different from any girl he had ever seen with her striking yellow hair plaited into two long tails down her back and her green and white flowered dress. "I asked if you were always so brave." He repeated the words he had practiced all day in the hope of seeing her again.
Katie squinted up at him with one eye open, a puzzled look on her face. "I'm not brave," she replied, unsure how he had gotten that impression. Looking more closely, she realized he was the boy who had freed her hair from Brave Bear's grip. His straight black hair hung at his shoulders and he was dressed in buckskin pants like her father wore. His shirt was sleeveless with fringes and made of deerskin with intricate beadwork. Around his neck he wore beads and a medicine pouch.
"Yesterday. You are only one not scared," the boy explained, embarrassed by his English.
"I was scared at first, but you helped me see that your friend was only trying to frighten us. I didn't want him to see it was working," she said with a wry smile. "Thank you for helping me."
He nodded a reply, unsure of her words. "Brave Bear is a good person. He is angry, and like most of us, he does not know the right way to be Cheyenne in the white world. My father tells me it is better to be angry than to give up hope."
"I can see why he's angry," Katie replied. In her time here she had seen enough to be upset by how the Indians lived. Though young and unaware of the full tragedy that had befallen the Cheyenne, she was old enough to be disturbed by the sight of hungry children and people being forced to remain on a reservation, not free to travel where they wanted.
The boy acknowledged her compassion with a faint smile. "You have a strong spirit." Though he didn't know Katie very well, he had no doubt about the truth of his words. Katie didn't know how to react to that statement. As they both fell mute, having run out of conversation, she turned back to the game being played behind her. The boy didn't want their conversation to end so he tried to think of something else say. "Katie, you talk Cheyenne?"
Katie turned back around to face him. "Not really," she admitted. "My Pa's been teaching me some words."
"Why?"
"He says it shows respect to try to talk to people in their own language," Katie explained. She pushed one of her braids over her shoulder.
"He talk Cheyenne?" the boy asked, surprised.
"Yeah, but he says he's rusty."
"Rusty?"
Katie realized he didn't know the word. "Rusty. It means he's out of practice. He used to live with the Cheyenne and he spoke it every day. He tried to help the Cheyenne get treated right by the Army. That was a long time ago. That's why he's out of practice," she said then added with a broad smile. "My Cheyenne words came in handy yesterday."
The boy wasn't sure of everything she said, but it seemed her father had lived with the Cheyenne and tried to help them. He guessed that's why her family was here now. "Handy?"
"Handy means useful. I think it helped me to speak to all of you in Cheyenne," she said, wishing she knew more Cheyenne words.
"It did," he replied cheerfully. "We respected you."
Katie was pleased. She wished she could tell her father, but then she would have to tell him about the encounter with the boys. "Where did you learn to speak English?"
"School. But, I no talk good."
"You speak better English than I do Cheyenne," she said with a laugh. "You'll get better."
"No I won't. My father does not want me to go."
"To school?"
The boy nodded.
"Why?"
"He thinks I…" he struggled for the word. "Forget who am."
Katie tried to figure out the meaning of his words. "He's afraid you'll forget you're Cheyenne?"
"Yes, but I not forget. I know who I am." The boy looked down at his feet for several moments afraid to ask his next question. "Katie, will you help me learn English?"
Katie wasn't sure if she should do something against his father's wishes, but she also knew she couldn't say no. "While we're here, I'll teach you English if you teach me Cheyenne. I can surprise my Pa."
The boy's face lit up. "Nea'ese." He didn't know whether he was more excited about learning English or spending time with Katie.
"You know my name, but I don't know yours. If we're going to study together what should I call you?"
"Live in Hopes."
Katie stared at the boy for a long time, her mind flooded with stories told by her parents of the baby saved by No Harm. She didn't think it was possible that she could be standing in front of him. In her mind he was still the baby her father had cradled in his arms on one of the worst days in his life.
"I know," he said, embarrassed. For most of his life he felt burdened by his name. He didn't know how to live in hopes when he was surrounded by so little hope. Where was the hope in hunger, disease, and captivity, he wondered. Still, he knew the story of his name. He felt he was obligated to live up to it in some way that was yet to be revealed to him. That's why it was so important for him to learn English. He knew his name carried the words of his chief, Black Kettle. While he would never abandon his Cheyenne ways, he felt that his destiny called on him to communicate with the whites. Coming out of his own thoughts for a moment he noticed that Katie hadn't said a word and was looking at him with a strange expression on her face. He grew uncomfortable. "Did I say wrong?"
With her eyes wide in amazement, Katie could only shake her head no. After taking several deep breaths she eventually found her voice. "My parents. They gave you your name?"
Now it was Live in Hopes turn to be shocked. "I don't understand."
"My brother, Brian's friend, No Harm, died at Washita," Katie began the story that she had heard many times. "He was about the age you are now. He hid you under his body as his mother had once done for him."
Live in Hopes resumed the story as he had been told. "And white friends of Cloud Dancing found me and brought me to their village. I was nursed by a white woman and cared for by a Negro couple."
Katie continued with tears in her eyes. "When my Ma handed you back to Cloud Dancing, she told him she and my Pa thought you should be called Live in Hopes so you could carry the words of your chief. Black Kettle hoped that one day our people could live in peace. My whole family thinks of you often and so do Grace and Robert E. They're the Negro couple who cared for you. They wanted to raise you, but Cloud Dancing knew you needed to be raised by the Cheyenne."
Live in Hopes had tears in his eyes now, too. "It really happened like that?" He was amazed to hear the story from Katie's mouth in the exact way he had been told. "Cloud Dancing told me the story, but lately I began to wonder if it was all true."
"I was told the same story. My parents were the white friends of Cloud Dancing."
"I want to hear all about the people who took care of me. And, could you take me to your parents?"
Running Wolf and his family sat outside their cabin finishing the last of their morning meal of government rations. They spent as little time inside the cabin as possible, using it only for sleeping and dressing. With only one small window, the hot stale air had no way to circulate properly, giving the structure a musty, foul odor.
"You better hurry or you'll be late for that school?" Running Wolf told Eyes Like the Sky. A battle raged within him over their decision to send him to the reservation school. A strong part of him wanted to stand beside the other Cheyenne who refused to send their children to the school. Another part of him agreed with his wife that he needed to learn to navigate a white world so he might not be confined to a reservation for his entire life. As his parents, they would teach him the important lessons he couldn't learn in school.
"Is the school…is it all right?" his mother asked. She paced back and forth in front of the lodge trying to calm a fussy baby.
"I don't mind going to school. I'm ahead of the other kids in reading. But, I'd rather be playing with Katie and Josef," Eyes Like the Sky replied, pulling on the collar of his shirt. "And I don't like these clothes. They itch."
After settling the baby, Night Crane placed him in a basket and stepped toward her older son, adjusting the collar on his shirt. When she finished, she smoothed his hair back and placed her hands on his shoulders. "After school you may change back into your regular clothes. Then you may play."
"I should go," he said, giving his mother a hug. He waved to Running Wolf as he headed down the road.
Night Crane watched him run off in the direction of the school. "Did we make the right decision? What if they change him?"
Running Wolf stood and walked over to his wife. "We are not going to let them change him. If we don't like what's happening, we will take him out."
Night Crane smiled up at her husband in agreement. From the direction of their son's retreating form, she noticed Cloud Dancing and Sully walking in the opposite direction toward their cabin. "You have visitors," she told her husband.
Running Wolf watched as they walked along the dirt road toward his cabin. He stepped away from his lodge to meet them halfway. "It is good to see you." Cloud Dancing and Sully returned the greeting and together the three men headed toward the cabin to give their regards to Night Crane.
"I have come to see how you are," Cloud Dancing told Night Crane, glancing at the homey touches she had made to the cabin. "That's a fine robe on the door. Your mother would be proud."
"Thank you," she replied as she gathered the dirty plates and cups from breakfast. "We are adjusting. It is difficult, but not as difficult as I had feared. Being with my people again is of great comfort." She turned in Sully's direction. "Where is Michaela today?"
"She stayed back at the camp ta do some chores. Told me ta tell ya she'd stop by later ta show ya somethin'," Sully replied. From Night Crane's expression, Sully knew she understood Michaela's message even if he didn't.
"Would you all join us for supper this evening?" Night Crane asked. "There isn't much, but we'd enjoy your company."
"We'd like that," Sully replied. "That's part o' the reason we're here. We're goin' fishin' and wanted ta see if Runnin' Wolf wanted ta come."
"If we are lucky, there will be enough to eat tonight," Cloud Dancing added. Just then New Promise let out a loud wail, causing all heads to turn in the direction of the basket.
Night Crane lifted him up and placed him over her shoulder, gently rubbing his back. "If you gentlemen will excuse me, the little one is hungry," she said, then left to feed New Promise in the privacy of their cabin.
"I would like to join you. Let me get my rod." Running Wolf was pleased to be invited to go fishing with his two new friends. He felt especially honored considering the limited time Sully had with Cloud Dancing. From spending time with Sully and getting to know him, he also suspected an ulterior motive. It wouldn't surprise him if Sully was trying to forge an alliance between himself and Cloud Dancing before he left. If he was, Running Wolf welcomed it, determined to live up to Sully's faith and trust.
After saying goodbye to Night Crane, Running Wolf walked along the sunburned grass to the river with Sully and Cloud Dancing. It was another stubbornly hot day, the cloudless blue sky making the air clean and bright. Since it still hadn't rained for weeks, the river's water level was low forcing the men to walk further in search of deeper water where they hoped the fish would be biting. On the way, they spoke of reservation life and plans for the upcoming Massaum ceremony. When they arrived at their desired spot, they placed their fishing rods in the water, relaxed in each other's company.
After a long time in silence, Cloud Dancing spoke. "Sully tells me they have you cutting hay?"
Running Wolf attached another worm to his pole. "That and chopping wood. It's honest work," he replied. "There were a few delivery jobs that paid better, but I didn't want to be away from my family. I have time to help the tribe in other ways, Cloud Dancing. I would like to be of use to you."
Cloud Dancing felt a pull at the end of his line. "There is much to do. We could use your help," he said. He removed a trout from the end of his pole and placed it in the bucket, grateful the fish were biting and eager for a large catch.
Sully noticed that a herd of about forty cattle had wandered closer to them as they grazed on the tall grass. "Brian told me 'bout the Indian Agent's idea of bringin' in herds of cattle for you ta raise stock," he said. "What do ya think 'bout that?"
Cloud Dancing lifted his head to watch the cattle chewing on the abundant grass. "It is his alternative to farming."
Running Wolf removed a fish from his pole, placing it in the bucket alongside the others. "Anyone can see corn and grain aren't going to grow on this land."
"'Cept someone in Washington," Sully quipped.
Running Wolf returned his pole to the water. "What do you think of his idea?" He was eager for Cloud Dancing's opinion.
Cloud Dancing rested his chin in his hand pondering an answer. "The idea has merit, but it also worries me."
"How's that?" Sully asked, finally feeling a tug at the end of his rod.
"It is true we will starve if we rely on farming. Year after year the crops fail, with last year being the worst," Cloud Dancing said, glancing back over toward the cattle. "Raising cattle would provide both food and money for clothes and supplies. It is also a trade our people can understand. The tribe can take pride in an expanding herd of cattle. It is how it used to be with horses. What worries me is how we will relate to the white cattle ranchers."
"In what way," Running Wolf asked.
"On the one hand, if we raised our own cattle, we would not be tempted to kill the cow of the white ranchers to feed our families. There have been instances of this. It is wrong, but a starving man will do what it takes to feed his family. I cannot condemn him for this." Cloud Dancing paused. "Those cattle you see are not our own. They belong to the Standard Cattle Company. We lease grazing rights to them in exchange for annual payments. There are many such arrangements throughout the reservation. We have done so with agreement from Agent Miles, but without government sanction. The arrangement is fragile. Already, those cattle ranchers who are left out of these agreements have tried to put an end to them. I fear even more problems should the Cheyenne become competitors."
Running Wolf carefully considered all that he had heard. "Won't it take a long time before we are a threat to their livelihood? It will take decades to amass herds the size of some of those companies. Why should they feel threatened?"
"Runnin' Wolf's right, 'sides, ya gotta do what's best for your families," Sully said, warming to the idea of the Cheyenne raising cattle. He regretted how easily he dismissed it when Brian had attempted to discuss it with him.
"It is worth trying. Still, it remains to be seen whether Agent Miles can secure the cattle for us to start our herds," Cloud Dancing explained. A pause in the conversation created a calm stillness all around them. The tranquil quiet was interrupted by a rustle in the grass behind him, followed by heavy footsteps. Wrenching himself around in the direction of the noise, Cloud Dancing startled at the sight of two men who didn't seem to belong on the reservation. With their wide brim hats, dungarees, and a bandana tied around their necks, Cloud Dancing assumed they were ranch hands.
"Look here Ray, Injuns," a heavyset man said to the other, pushing back the brim of his hat to get a closer view.
The man referred to as Ray was tall and slender with dark brown hair and a mustache. By the brown stains on his jeans, his hair plastered to his head, and several days' growth of facial hair, he appeared in need of a bath and a shave. "Now what do we have here," he drawled, wiping the back of his hand across his brow. "Ya'll layin' low ta steal yourselves a cow? If ya are, Bo an' me…"
Running Wolf leapt to his feet, cutting him off. "My friends and I are fishing on our land. We have no intention of harming your cattle." His shoulders heaved from the seething anger that threatened to boil over at the presumption of these two ignorant men.
"Your land," Bo hissed out in disdain, turning his head to spit on the ground.
By now Sully and Cloud Dancing were on their feet on either side of Running Wolf. These men appeared to be looking for a fight and Cloud Dancing knew how badly the situation could escalate out of control if he didn't try to diffuse it. "This is reservation land. Your cattle are free to graze on our land undisturbed, but you are trespassing. I am asking you to leave," Cloud Dancing said in a level tone of voice.
"Tresspassin'! Ya hear that Bo," Ray said snidely. "What ya gonna do, scalp us." When he finished, he roared with laughter at his own joke.
"The Army shoulda killed all o' ya off when they had the chance," Bo said, leaning back on his heels. "Don't make sense wastin' money on a bunch o' lazy, good fer nothin' heathens."
Ray chewed on a wad of tobacco lodged in the side of his mouth, then spit juice on the ground. "They out fishin' when the rest o' us are workin'," Ray added, his hand pointed dismissively in their direction. "Must be nice gettin' free food an' a place ta live. Rest o' us gotta work for a livin'."
Weighed down with repressed rage, Sully stepped forward, hand on his tomahawk. He was battling to maintain his composure when every muscle in his body itched to tackle these two loud mouths to the ground and pummel them until they stopped talking. "That's enough o' that. We ain't interested in your cows. We don't want trouble. Just get outta here an' we'll forget 'bout this."
Bo stepped closer to Sully studying his hair, clothes, beads, and belt. A smirk came to his face as his eyes settled on his tomahawk. "Whada we have 'ere? Hey, Ray. This half breed thinks he can tell us what ta do."
Cloud Dancing recognized that Sully's temper was surging and he couldn't blame him for wanting to strike these men. There was no doubt the three of them could take care of these ranch hands. What held him back was the knowledge that, regardless of the circumstances, his people never came out on the winning side in the white man's court. As much as he wanted to unleash his fury on these men, he knew it would be a mistake. "Please leave us alone and we will forget this happened," he implored.
Bo ignored him, continuing to stare at Sully, while walking in a big circle around him as if he were a circus animal. It took all of Sully's willpower not to deck him. He resisted, knowing the situation would turn out badly for the Cheyenne if he acted on his rage. "Ya not man enough ta hold your own with your own kind. Ya gotta live with 'em," Bo hollered at Sully, waving his hand toward the Indians.
"Hey, Bo," Ray chimed in. "I bet once he got o' taste o' those injun squaws he didn't wanna leave. Is that it half breed? Ya got a squaw?"
Sully's whole body was pulsating with fury. Having had enough, he took a step forward with his fist raised, only to be held back by Cloud Dancing.
"Had me a squaw once," Bo went on. "After she stopped her yellin', we had a mighty good time. Had 'er beggin' fer more. Never met a woman who could resist 'ole Bo," he said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Running Wolf couldn't listen to another word. With visions of the soldier who had raped his wife filling his head, he lunged forward. "You bastard," he yelled pushing Bo to the ground and striking his face. Cloud Dancing tried in vain to pull him off Bo while Ray leapt toward Sully. Seeing him coming, Sully moved to the side, grabbing hold of his arm. With a firm hand on his shoulder, he drew back his hand, curled his fingers into a fist, and hit him hard. Cloud Dancing moved to pull Sully back, but his jaw ended up connecting with Ray's fist and he fell to the ground.
Cloud Dancing got to his feet, his hand rubbing his jaw as he helplessly watched the four men roll around on the ground taking turns punching each other in the chest and head. As he contemplated what to do next, three other men appeared, causing his heart to sink with the knowledge that the situation had just gone from bad to worse. The three men motioned for Cloud Dancing to help them break up the fight. Caught off guard, he hesitated, but then joined with one to pull Sully and Ray apart while the other two separated Running Wolf and Bo.
"A large man with a wide brim hat held tight to Bo, preventing him from moving. "Wanna tell me what this is about," he said to the ranch hands, his voice commanding authority. Cloud Dancing let out the breath he was holding as he heard the hint of disgust in the man's tone.
"They were tryin' ta steal a cow," Bo stuttered, gasping for breath. "Ray an' me stopped 'em."
"They're lyin'," Sully shot back, the veins in his neck throbbing as blood from his lip trickled down to his chin.
Cloud Dancing stepped forward sensing that the man would listen. He explained the circumstances that led to the fighting. The man studied Cloud Dancing. Then he looked from Sully to Running Wolf to the fishing poles, finally letting his eyes settle on the bucket of fish filled to the brim. His eyes searched out the cows that still grazed in the field, unfazed by the earlier commotion. "It don't look like they was stealin' cattle," the man said at last. "We warned you boys ta stay off Indian land." Cloud Dancing breathed a sigh of relief. "Sorry 'bout this. Sometimes they get outta hand."
Infuriated their boss believed the Indians over them, Bo and Ray tried to wrestle free from the stronghold in which he and his men held them. The boss again turned toward Cloud Dancing. "I'll send some provisions by later for your troubles. Now, I'm gonna get these two outta here." The three men left holding tight to the two errant ranch hands.
Cloud Dancing turned to his friends. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah," Sully replied, breathing heavily as he wiped the blood from his mouth and chin.
Running Wolf's physical injuries didn't hurt as much as his shame. "Cloud Dancing, I should have controlled my temper. I put us all in danger. I am sorry."
Cloud Dancing handed him a cloth to wipe the blood on his knuckles. "It was inevitable. They were intent on goading us into a fight. I am just glad you are both all right." He let his eyes drift once again to the cattle. "This is what I fear. Last year Running Buffalo was accused of trying to steal cattle from another ranch. He was killed."
To Be Continued...
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