THE NIGHT OF THE KIDNAPPING
By Andamogirl
Author's note: James West and Artemus Gordon have managed to go back to their retiree's life.
Post TV movie "The Wild Wild West Revisited". References to my story called 'The Night of the Peacemaker'. You can read my other stories with Crow Indians to know the characters better and Artemus's and White Crow's relationship. See "The Night of the Missing Children, "The Night of the Wolves" and "The Night of the Peacemaker".
This story takes place after my fic called "The Night of the Grand Old Lady".
Story based on the Crow War. See Wikipedia for historic facts.
Second story of 'Jim West's bad dreams' series.
Artie: Jim?
Jim: Yeah.
Artie: Whatever you do, I don't want you to think about three other men that General Grant sent to contact Strong Bear.
Jim: No, I won't.
Artie: I mean, just because he put them to the stake doesn't necessarily mean he's going to kill you, too.
Jim: No, it doesn't.
Artie: You just forget them.
Jim: Yeah, I will.
Artie: Don't dwell on it.
Jim: No, Artie, I won't.
Artie: Just put those poor devils right out of your mind.
Jim: Artie! All right!
The Night of the Arrow
Warning: claiming bites.
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PART ONE
Tecate, Mexico
Late October 1887
Señor James West picked up the glass of lemonade that his wife Juanita had prepared for him and he unfolded the Tucson Gazette sitting on the table.
He suddenly froze hearing a girl shrieking and saw his daughter Rufina run in front of him – being pursued by his son Jesus disguised as a bandito, holding a wooden gun.
He sighed in relief – because real banditos raided his ranch occasionally to steal a few of his horses – and started to read the first page of the newspaper.
The stirrings of dread began to tie knots in his stomach: "Crow war!" Was the headline. The next sentences were written in bold. "There will be an armed conflict between the United States and the Crow tribe of Montana Territory! Hundreds of settlers have fled by train from the areas around the Crow reservation! The rebellious Crow are encamping near the Little Bighorn River. The United States troops led by Brigadier General Ruger and Colonel Nathan Dudley (1st Cavalry, company A, B; D, E, G, K; 7th Cavalry, company A. 9th Cavalry, company H; 3rd Infantry, company B & E and 7th Infantry, company C, D, G, I) are on their way to where the hostile Indians are and ready to take action."
He quickly read the article below detailing the 'Crow Incident' which had led to the actual situation, and then, looking at the field laid out in front of him, where a few of his horses were grazing, he pictured in his mind the Crow Indians he knew – and who were his friends; White Crow, Half-Moon, Black Wolf, Red Eagle… hoping they had not followed Sword Bearer and had stayed on the reservation - and then he thought about Artemus. He was a Crow warrior too.
He took a sip of lemonade and deepened his frown as his worry was growing exponentially. Artie was probably devastated by the news and… knowing the man who protected all his friends with the courage and ferocity of a lion, ignoring fear, and what could happen to him, he was probably already there; trying to convince White Crow and her band to go back to the reservation before they were all killed.
Suddenly a shiver ran down his spine as he knew! Artemus was in danger. His intuition had never deceived him, he thought.
He watched his son Jesus pass to his side and grabbed his arm, halting the boy. "Jesus! Go saddle Black Tornado! I need to go the village as soon as possible to send a message!"
The boy nodded, "Yes papa!" and then he ran toward the stable located at the end of the large courtyard of the modest hacienda.
He stood, thinking, 'I'm sure that Skinny Malone is keeping an eye on Artie and me – just in case he needs us again for a new mission… we would refuse, of course, unless he finds a way to coerce us. He probably knows where Artemus is and what he's doing…' He left the porch and entered his house, appreciating the freshness brought by thick walls and half-open shutters.
He spotted his wife Juanita sitting behind the large dining table. She was preparing the ingredients for the tacos de abobada that she would serve with soft corn maize tortilla along with sautéed vegetables and cheese. He couldn't help but lick his lips. He really loved Mexican food and especially the recipes made by his wife who was an excellent cook, he thought.
Juanita looked at Jim and said, "What is it? You look worried."
Nodding, Jim took Juanita's hand and he replied, "Yes I am, it's about Artemus. I need to send a message to Washington."
Juanita was surprised. "Artemus? What about him?"
Jim replied, "Artemus is in danger, I can feel it deep in my bones, and I need to help him, he's like a brother to me. I have to help him, he would do the same for me, without hesitation."
Frowning, upset, Juanita asked, "Are you going back to the Secret Service again? I thought you said to Director Malone it was over after your last mission!"
Smiling reassuringly, Jim said, "I did. It's over, querida, no more missions."
Furrowing her brow a little more, very worried, Juanita, said, "It's going to be dangerous, I don't want to lose you," and then she hugged Jim tightly.
Rubbing his wife's back in slow comforting circles, Jim said, "I'll be very careful, Juanita, I don't want to lose my family," he said. Then he kissed her lovingly. "And not Artie either."
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The next morning
The scratching and clanking noises of the train from Tucson to Phoenix, moving slowly on its tracks were the only sounds roaring through the otherwise silent and calm car. It was crowded but people were almost all sleepy because of the implacable heat plaguing them.
Sitting at the back of the car on a hard and uncomfortable wooden seat, next to the window, Jim pulled out the message that Director Malone of the USSS had sent to him yesterday evening while regretting the comfort of the Wanderer.
He unfolded the piece of paper and read it silently again. "One week ago, two Pawnee Indians scouts from Fort Custer searching to locate Sword Bearer and his followers spotted a white man dressed in Crow clothing heading toward the Big Horn Mountains. They didn't know who he was so they told this to their reference officer – and the information was transferred to me as the US Army has orders to transmit to me any information regarding the hostile Crow Indians."
Pausing, Jim just said, "Artemus." Then he continued his reading, "I think Artemus is going to tell the Crow Indians he knows to come back to the reservation before the inevitable fight between them and the US Army – and their inevitable defeat, in order to save them. It could take some time, as they are strongly against this idea. I'm not sure he would succeed. President Cleveland gave orders to general Ruger and his troops to march to the Big Horn Mountains and then for the Little Bighorn River to stop the Crow rebellion. They should reach the place at the beginning of November. Artemus saved the President's life during that Loveless Jr.' affair, and he wants to return the favor. He wants you to find Artemus Gordon before he gets caught in the crossfire, literally, because you're the right person for the mission. You know the region and the Crow Indians. Bring Artemus to a safe place. Good luck."
He sighed and closed his eyes.
This new mission would be difficult to complete. He had little time to do it, he didn't know exactly where White Crow and her band were – he would start his search at the reservation in case White Crow's Band had returned there after Artie convinced them to do that – he didn't know where Artie was, and his old friend would refuse to go with him to a safe place while leaving his band behind him if White Crow and the others didn't want to go back to the reservation. And what he would he do in that case? He thought.
Re-opening his eyes, Jim saw that the boy with the short black curly hair and gentle brown eyes – with an uncanny resemblance to Artemus when he was a boy – and who was sitting in front of him had pulled a dime novel from his travel bag.
He noticed that there was a cow-boy and an Indian on the cover. They were ready to fight to death near a river. The white man with the black hat had taken cover behind a rock and two Indians wearing headdresses were each armed with bows and arrows and were moving toward him.
Being drowsy thanks to the heat in the car, Jim glanced through the dirty window beside him, to the moving and desert landscape (sand, bushes, rocks, cacti, sand, bushes, rocks, cacti sand, bushes, rocks, cacti, etc.) and lulled by the repetitive sound of the train he felt himself slowly drifting off to sleep.
He laid his body sideways to rest his head against the cool window as his eyes were slowly drifting shut. He started to dream a moment later.
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Jim's bad dream:
Grover Cleveland entered his office in the White House and looked at the man who was already there, waiting for him, standing in front of the Resolute Desk beside an armchair. "Please take a seat, Mr. West."
Deeply curious to know why the President of the United States had summoned him to Washington telling him in the letter he had received from him a week before, that it was very important and very urgent, Jim complied and said, "Thank you, Sir."
The President took his place behind his massive oak desk various documents piled on the Morocco Leather covered top and said, "I'm sorry I had to ask you to come here, Mr. West, but I didn't have a choice. The situation is very serious and urgent and only you can solve it before it gets out of hand."
Now intrigued, Jim nodded. "Me? So you want me to do another 'special' assignment for you, Sir? I'm sorry to be blunt, Sir. But I retired from the Secret Service, again."
Cleveland nodded. "Yes, I know, but. I need you, again. You're indispensable for this mission and you're now an agent of the Secret Service, again, just for one last mission."
Narrowing his eyes in mistrust, Jim replied, "My 'last' mission was supposed to be the last, Sir." Then he crossed his arms on his chest, clearly upset.
The President nodded, "I know that." He took a bell sitting on a corner of his large desk and shook it. "I want to be honest with you, Mr. West, I can't promise you this assignment will be the last. If all the agents of the Secret Service were as talented as you are, I would let you enjoy your retirement gladly. But alas, they aren't half the agent you are."
Flattered by the compliment Jim couldn't but smile with pleasure.
Cleveland paused and then added, "What do you know about the Crow Rebellion?"
Now puzzled, Jim replied to the POTUS, "What I read in the Tucson Gazette, Mr. President. In the lastest news, Sword Bearer and his followers are encamping near the Little Bighorn River… " He had just said that, when he felt a shiver running down his spine and then alarm bells sounded like mad in his head. "Oh no, no… Don't tell me that Artemus Gordon is somehow involved in this?"
President Cleveland was surprised. "Yes, he's involved in this, how did you guess?"
Jim sighed. "Well, I deduced it, Sir. I'm indispensable for this mission – because I know Artie - you talked to me about Crow Indians… and Artemus and I know them very well…"
There was a sudden knock at the door and Jim stopped his explanation.
The President said, "Come in!"
Like the POTUS Jim watched a man entering in the room. He was holding a silver tray on which stood a coffee pot, two cups a jug of milk and a sugar bowl. The servant put it on the Resolute Desk, bowed and then he left as silently as he had entered.
Pouring fresh coffee into the cups, the President continued, "As you know, Mr. West I ordered Brigadier General Ruger and his troops to march to the Big Horn Mountains to stop that rebellion. Two weeks ago I asked Mr. Gordon to come here to offer him the opportunity to go there and convince the Crow people to go back to their reservation. He accepted my proposition and he left for the Montana Territory the next day after I gave him a letter giving my amnesty and my protection to all the Crow Indians that would travel with him. As he's a man alone and doesn't have troops with him, he would be able to reach Sword Bearer's encampment long before Brigadier General Ruger, and according to Director Malone, Mr. Gordon is actually on his way to the Little Big Horn river." He pushed a steaming cup toward Jim. "Sugar? Some milk?"
Shaking his head, Jim took his cup of coffee. "Thank you Sir and no, thank you, Sir."
Pouring a little milk in his cup, Cleveland said, "But I haven't received any news from him since two scouts from Fort Custer spotted him heading there". He let a piece of sugar melt into the dark, hot, liquid. "Mr. Gordon told me that he would keep me informed of the situation regularly, but he didn't tell me how, and up to now he hasn't send any message."
Jim nodded. "I know how, Sir, by using pigeons. More than a decade ago, we had homing pigeons called Arabella and Henrietta in the Wanderer, and Artemus had trained them to carry important messages, a few of them were coded when they came from President Grant. After we accepted being agents of the USSS again, he started to train two new homing pigeons called Hector and Nestor to carry messages between him – wherever he would be and the Secret Service headquarters."
President Cleveland nodded and said, "Then something happened to Hector and Nestor – and or to Mr. Gordon, I'm afraid."
Confident, shaking his head, Jim said, "Artie's still alive, I can feel it. Even hundreds of miles apart we're still connected."
Intrigued, the President furrowed his brow. "How?"
Jim smiled. "I don't know, Sir. I can't explain it. This connection started at the end the war after our first mission together. We somehow forged a strong, unshakeable bond between us. It helped us to save each other's life a hundred times at least during our assignments for the Secret Service. He's in danger, I can feel it. I will find him and help him to carry out his mission."
Grover Cleveland nodded. "It's your assignment Mr. West."
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Montana Territory
Pulling his horse to a stop on top of a small slope, Artemus Gordon glanced around him, there were tall, thick trees covered with snow everywhere he looked.
It was late October and a thick layer of snow covered the ground, only the tops of boulders and of the shrubs emerging.
He was now in the local area where Sword Bearer and his warriors were gathered and hiding. The place was immense and finding them would be difficult, he thought to himself. Or not – if the Crow rebels found him first, he added in his mind.
He sighed, causing a small cloud of white steam to rise from his cold, cracked lips. "Let's hope a Crow warrior won't kill me after seeing me. He shouldn't as I'm wearing my Crow clothes, but my face is still white," he said. He grimaced and added to himself, "I should have tanned my face to look like more like a Crow, but it's too late now." He winced then as his buttocks and thighs were sore. He wasn't accustomed to long exhausting rides anymore. "I'm gonna have sores on my saddle sores… I always hated long rides."
He looked up at the sky which was filled with a mass of dark gray clouds promising more snow and wiped sweat off his face with the sleeve of his coat made from the furred hide of a buffalo despite the temperature which was dropping fast.
Riding for hours was exhausting and came along with feeling hot and sweating, especially when wearing a thick coat, he thought. "I always hated that too."
He glanced then at the small cage attached to the back of his saddle where Hector and Nestor where locked in, both cooing despite the cold. "Let's make a pause; I need to feed you and water you."
He softly patted the shiny, sweaty neck of his Spotted Blanket Appaloosa horse. "Let's find that river Vo," and he set his gelding into motion.
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Later
Artemus reached the Little Bighorn River half an hour later. He dismounted and let Vovó'hasé'haméhe (Spotted Horse in Cheyenne language) drink the clear water.
He took his canteen, poured the tepid water which was inside at his feet and then, he knelt at the bank. He was about to dive the container under the surface to fill it with cold water when he heard a faint whistle – and suddenly an arrow hit the ground an inch to his right.
Adrenaline running through his veins, he immediately rolled over under his horse and grabbed the rifle he kept in a scabbard tied to his saddle. Two arrows hit the grass on each side of him.
He slapped Vo's rump, ordering him, "Take cover!" and the Cheyenne horse obeyed, moving toward a group of bushes.
He leapt behind a rock and in Crow language he said, "I'm Strong Bear! I'm a Crow warrior!" And he saw two warriors dressed in clothes which were decorated with paint and porcupine quills coming out from behind a couple of tall trees.
The tallest had painted his face red. He said in Crow language, "You're lying! You're not a Crow! You're a white man! You're a soldier! You're a scout trying to find us!"
The other Crow brave had his face covered with yellow dots. He added, "You're going to die white man! And I'm going to tie your scalp to the mane of my horse and then take yours!" and he pulled out a knife from its beaded sheath.
His stomach in knots, Artie fired – and two bullets buzzed very close to the two Indians's heads. They immediately took cover behind the trunk of a dead tree.
Feeling 'something' coming up behind his back, he whirled around and saw a Crow boy, about ten year old get out of the river, hair, clothes and necklaces dripping.
He had taken him by surprise from behind, swimming in the frigid river. He couldn't help but to say, "Oh well done!"
Holding a bow, the Crow boy crouched down, pulled an arrow from his quiver, placed it on the nock of his bow, raised it and took aim.
Paling in dread, Artemus raised a hand as a small shiver shot up his spine, "No! I'm a friend" but it was too late, the boy pulled back the string and fired the arrow which flew through the air.
Blood filled with adrenaline, Artemus leapt to the side at the last second – avoiding being hit square in his chest – and death.
But the sharp tip of the arrow embedded itself in his left shoulder and he cried out in pain, dropping his rifle to the ground.
His chest heaving, Artie tried to grab his Winchester to defend himself but the boy was too quick. The Crow boy jumped up on him, tackled him to the ground, crouched over him, legs on either side with his blade to his neck.
It was now he noticed that the young Crow warrior was a half-breed and… that he had his chocolate eyes, his nose and his mouth and his curly hair worn in two long braids.
He whispered, "My son?"
His eyes widening, total surprise etched all over his face, he said, "You're mother is White Crow!" and remembered the last time they had made love – more than a decade ago. 'And I'm your father' he added in his mind. In Crow language he repeated, "Your mother is White Crow!" and he added, "I know her very well, I'm her friend. I'm sure she told you about me. I have an eagle tattooed on my back… " And he winced as the boy pressed the blade to his neck a bit harder. "I'm telling you the truth, I swear, m'boy. Your mother has a cross-shaped scar on her belly, above her navel…" 'And I'm still in love with her'.
Confused, the boy pulled the knife back and moved back as the two other Crow warriors framed Artemus both grasping long knives.
Then he opened his eyes wide in great surprise realizing who the white man was, "You're Strong Bear! You're my father!" He said.
Still stunned Artie croaked in a shaky voice, "I have a son…"
The Crow with the yellow dots leaving only his eyes and mouth free of the color, grabbed Artie's hair, ready to scalp him, but the boy pushed him backward. "No! Don't!"
The man with the painted red face asked, "Why?"
The boy put his knife back in its sheath and then rolled Artemus on his 'good side' eliciting a groan from the older man who was gripping the arrow shaft in a shaking hand.
He pulled his thick coat and buckskin shirt up – revealing the Comanche tattoo marking his back as well as the scars left there by the talons of the sacred eagle. He touched them both, fingering the wings of the black eagle. "My mother told me about you," he finally said. He moved onto his knees. "She knew that you would come back to her one day…" He's Strong Bear! Look! He's been marked by the dúuptakoische (eagle), sacred messenger between Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people, and it's protecting him." he bowed his head respectfully and added, shamefully. "I'm sorry."
Looking at each other in dread of being punished by Akbaatatdia for what they had done, the two 'adult" Crows lowered their knives to the sandy ground. The tallest said, "We're going to bring you to our camp. Half-Moon will take care of you there."
Moving onto his back, slowly, Artie grimaced in pain. "My old friend Half-Moon… He must be real old by now," he rasped and then he closed his eyes and passed out.
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Later at the Crow's encampment
White Crow took one of the buffalo-hide seats which were arranged around the edge of the tepee and set it next to the fireplace occupying the center. She sat on it, then she leaned toward 'Strong Bear', who was lying there on a mattress of thick blankets. "He's older… but he's still handsome, and strong," she said." Then she kissed his lips tenderly.
Half-Moon gently pushed White Crow back. "I need to remove that arrow, now let me alone with him;" he said to the female Bacheeítche (chief), war leader (pipe carrier) and warrior. Then using a knife he cut Artie's buckskin shirt and stripped him of his clothing from his upper body.
The medicine man grabbed the long straight stiff shaft and broke it off a couple of inches above the blood-covered shoulder and the fletched end came away in Half-Moon's hand.
Artie instantly flinched and let out a choked noise of pain. He half-opened his eyes and moaned, tears rolling down his cheeks.
White Crow immediately took his clammy hand in hers. "It's going to be alright," she said. And Artemus drifted off back to unconsciousness, breathing heavily.
The Akbaalia (healer) pointed at the circular opening to his tepee made with buffalo hides stretched over wooden poles. "Leave!" He ordered.
Reluctantly, White Crow stood up and moved toward the entrance hole. "Let me know when it is over, Half-Moon," she said and left.
Half-Moon carefully examined Artie's wound then he pressed the knife into the white man's skin as he began removing the arrow's head.
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White Crow met her son in front of the tepee. His eyes were red and watery. "Is Strong Bear going to die?" He asked with a small voice.
Kneeling to the ground White Crow hugged Daxpitcheehísshish (Red Bear). "No, he's not. Strong Bear is invincible," she said to reassure the boy. She moved back and then ruffled her youngest son's hair. "He's going to be alright."
Sniffing, the boy nodded. "I shot an arrow at him. I hurt him." And a few tears fell down his face.
Smiling, White Crow replied, "You didn't know who he was. You thought he was an enemy and you wanted to protect your band. You were very brave Daxpitcheehísshish. You are a true warrior! I'm very proud of you." She kissed Red Bear's forehead and then she added. "Don't feel guilty about what happened. I would have done the same thing if I had been in your place. Don't worry, Half-Moon is taking care of Strong Bear, and Akbaatatdia the One Who Has Made Everything – Maker of All Things Above and people, is protecting him."
Red Bear nodded and offered his mother a small smile. "Can I see him?"
White Crow shook her head. "No, not yet. Half-Moon wants to be alone…" She had just said that, when the boy rushed toward the medicine man's tepee.
White Crow sighed. "No," she said. Like his father Red Bear did what he wanted to do ignoring the significance of the word 'no', she thought.
Daxpitcheehísshish met Half-Moon's glare as soon as he was inside the tepee, but ignored it bravely, and he knelt beside Strong Bear.
He crossed his arms on his chest and said, "I'm staying!" then he looked down at Strong Bear lying on a nest of blankets. He was unconscious and bare chested.
Half-Moon had removed the arrow and was ready to clean the blood with a cloth and water from a bowl, he noticed.
Reaching out, Half-Moon said, "Make yourself helpful, Red Bear, clean Strong Bear's wound while I fetch a needle and thread."
Nodding the boy complied, staring at the inflamed wound which was still bleeding sluggishly, with guilt written all over his face. "I'm sorry," he said before biting his lower lip - but Artemus didn't respond - while gently dabbing away the blood.
Half-Moon leaned toward his patient again and nodded in appreciation at it was cleaned. "Don't be, you didn't know who he was."
Daxpitcheehísshish nodded. "He's my father."
Half-Moon pushed the sharp needle through Artemus's skin as gently as possible, "Yes he is. It was only a matter of time before you met him, Red Bear. I was sure he'd come back here. He loves your mother, he's a Crow warrior and we are his family."
Red Bear nodded. "I wish I knew him sooner… but my mother told me that he was very busy, protecting people all over the country."
Half-Moon nodded, "Yes white men but also Crow people, Cheyennes, Comanches… a lot of people, everywhere," he said as he stitched up Strong Bear's wound,. knotting quickly, neatly.
Daxpitcheehísshish dropped the bloodied cloth into the reddened water in the bowl, some splashing to the blanketed-ground as he asked, "Do you think he'll forgive me?"
Half-Moon tied off the last knot and then he applied a thick layer of smelly antiseptic ointment on the stitched wound. "He will."
Artemus regained consciousness winced at the sharp sting and hissed in pain.
He stirred and opened his eyes before closing them, grimacing in pain at the burning, ripping pain in his left shoulder. "Owww…" He let out, before looking up at Red Bear, his vision blurred. He gritted his teeth. "Aaah… Hurts… Oh god."
Half-Moon nodded. "I'm going to give you a potion to make the pain vanish," and then he stood and padded toward the other side of the tepee to prepare the herbal painkiller, his long hair oiled with bear's grease trailing to the ground.
The world came into focus around Artemus as he re-opened his eyes and he first saw the smoke from the fire escaping through a hole or smoke-flap in the top of the tepee. Then he turned his head to the side and saw his son's face close to his. He smiled weakly. "Hello…"
Red Bear smiled sheepishly. "Hello father." He hesitated and took Artie's hand in his, observing it for a few seconds. It was strong and calloused, a warrior's hand. "I… I often dreamed of you in the form of a golden eagle, which came to land on my mother's shoulder… and those times we were together."
Pressing the boy's hand in his, Artemus smiled and said, "It's a nice dream. Now you can see me in my "human form'."
Red Bear was stunned. "You can transform yourself into an eagle?"
Still smiling, Artie said, "No, I can't. I'm just a man, not a god. I meant you can see me in flesh and blood now, I'm real."
Daxpitcheehísshish nodded. "Yes, you're real."
Blinking tiredly, Artie said, "I'd like to see your mother. You didn't tell me your name my boy?" His smile reappeared as he fully realized that. "Yes, you're my boy."
Red Bear replied, "Daxpitcheehísshish, it's my name." Then he stood. "I'm going to tell my mother that you want to see her," and then he left.
Smiling, Artie said, "Red Bear… it's a powerful name."
Half-Moon knelt beside his patient again and said, "He's a good boy and a skilled warrior despite his young age. Try not to move too much, you'll pull the stitches." He took a pillow and placed it under Artemus's head. "It's good to see you again, Strong Bear. It has been a long time." Then he brought a wooden bowl to Artie's lips. "Drink!" he commanded.
Growing nausea assaulted Artemus as he smelled the potion, but he managed to take a couple of sips before turning his head to the side, gagging.
Half-Moon lowered the bowl to the blanket-covered ground.
Swallowing bile, and looking up at the very old and white-haired Crow medicine man, Artie said, "Yes, I know. I would have come back years ago if I had known that I had a son." Then he raised his head and looked down to see that his deep cut was perfectly sewn up and throbbing. He winced. "Thank you Half-Moon, you saved my life again."
Half-Moon placed a clean bandage over the fresh stitches and then he started wrapping the other man's injured shoulder. "I think White Crow and you need to talk."
He had just said that, when the collapsible flap closing the circular opening of the tepee adorned with colorful paintings was pushed to the side and White Crow and Red Bear appeared.
Half-Moon stood and said, "I have people to see. Try not to move too much or you'll pull the stitches, Strong Bear." and then he left the conical shaped tent.
Smiling, White Crow knelt beside Artemus and kissed his clammy forehead. "Hello Artemus," then she pressed her lips to Artie's, kissing him softly.
Smiling too, Artie started blinking fuzzily up at White Crow. "Hello," he croaked out. He cleared his throat and stroked his thumb over White Crow's cheek, gently. "Kaheé! (hello)." Then he fingered one of her two braids wrapped in beaver fur and beadwork.
White Crow traced the shell of Artie's ear. "I missed you," then she ran her hand through Artemus's mussed hair, playing with a wild curl at his temple. "So much."
Lowering his hand which landed limply on his lap, Artie said, "I missed you too, White Crow, very much," then he glanced at Red Bear standing beside his mother and was struck again by how the boy looked like him when he was his age. It was astonishing! "We've got to talk. A lot," he mumbled, words slurred with sleep. "Let's start with our son..."
Pressing her son's shoulder White Crow nodded. "Yes you're right. We will. But later, Artemus, for now you need to rest," she said.
Unable to fight against Half-Moon's powerful sedative potion, Artemus closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, and then he went limp.
He was still pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes, but his breathing was slow and steady. "He's going to be fine," White Crow said to her son.
Half-Moon pointed again at the rounded opening of the tepee. "Now let me alone. The healing has just started, I need to finish it."
Both mother and son left the old man's tepee knowing that Strong Bear would be fine soon. Once outside they heard the Akbaalia starting to chant a healing song.
To be continued.