THE NIGHT OF THE KIDNAPPING

By Andamogirl

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PART TWO

Jim's bad dream…

Later, in Half-Moon's tepee

White Crow pressed the lightest brush of her lips against Artemus's clammy forehead and then she asked, "How are you feeling?"

Smiling reassuringly, Artie replied, "I've been better," with a raspy voice. He raised a weak hand and gently moved aside a lock of hair from White Crow's face. "I love you…" he whispered.

The Crow woman ran a fingertip along Artemus's rough jawline, slowly, tenderly. "I love you too." She kissed his lips briefly, frustrated. She wanted to kiss him till they both couldn't breathe, but it wasn't the right time. Artemus was too weak for that, she reflected. She added, "You have a light fever, but Half-Moon told me it should vanish soon."

Artie nodded. "Why didn't you tell me about Red Bear?" His voice was slow, sleepy.

White Crow moved from a crouching position to a sitting position, and cross-legged, she replied, "I wanted to introduce our son to you in person. I always knew you would come back to me, but I waited a long time. He's not a child anymore. Now he's a warrior."

Feeling guilty Artie rubbed a hand over his strained features. "I'm sorry. I was very busy… After I left the Secret Service, I spent a year with Silver Cloud's Comanche band. I promised him to stay a few days with him… but it lasted a bit longer than that. Then I accepted a new mission, and then I re-started my life as an actor… and I traveled throughout the country and I even traveled abroad with my fellow thespians."

She nodded. "And you forgot us."

Feeling bad, Artie heaved a long sigh. "I did, yes. But you have to understand that I needed to put my past behind me to be able to change my life… I was fed up with the Secret Service, the missions, the danger, the injuries, the blood, the pain, the hospitals… I wanted to end all that. I wanted a simple and peaceful life. And… and you were part of that past. But after I accepted to work for the Secret Service again – twice, I restarted loving that life. But after a few months, I was seriously injured and I almost died. And when I was offered the chance to have my own troupe and my own theater in Chicago I didn't hesitate one second. I resigned again from the Secret Service, without any regret." He paused as White Crow carded her fingers through his tangled hair. "But when the President asked me to come here with the mission to convince the Crow people to go back to their reservation, to avoid a massacre, I accepted it without a second's hesitation…"

Leaning forward, White Crow kissed Artemus's temple lovingly. "What do the white men say? Better later than never?" She asked.

Smiling, Artie nodded. "Yes." He interlaced his fingers with White Crow's. "Tell me everything about our son Red Bear."

White Crow kissed Artie's lips before doing so.

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Much later

People talking loudly and horses neighing woke Artemus who slowly opened his eyes… to find White Crow wrapped tightly around him, no, plastered against him possessively. Her head was resting on his chest and her face was nestled in the crook of his neck, he realized.

He smiled and pressed a kiss on her raven black hair. "White Crow…" He said, sleep making his baritone voice husky.

He glanced around him and noticed that he wasn't in Half-Moon's tepee anymore but in White Crow's as he recognized the hide paintings adorning the inside.

There was a big roaring fire in the center of the large tepee, its glow illuminating the 'room' and volutes of smoke spiraled upward to the opened top of the conical tent.

He realized too that he was naked – and White Crow too and they were both lying on a comfortable buffalo hide mattress and were covered with a thick blanket.

White Crow stirred and then shifted, eyes fluttering open. She moaned when she felt Artemus gently shake her shoulder.

Artie cleared his throat and said softly, "Wake up," – and smiled when White Crow nuzzled his throat and whispered in a sleepy voice, "Go back to sleep," And he chuckled when she rubbed her cheek against Strong Bear's thickly muscled chest. "Stop doing that then because it's not helping…" and he chuckled again when White Crow purred as she trailed her lips up to his Adam's apple.

He let his right hand roam up White Crow's leg in response. "I missed you," he said in Crow language. Then he sighed, feeling bad. "I should have come sooner…"

Raising her head, White Crow fingered Artemus's jawline, "You were busy saving the world, I understand. I'm not mad at you."

Rubbing his forehead, Artie replied, "I was busy yes, but I stopped saving the world as you say a long time ago, after I retired. But I signed up again two years ago, before retiring again, and again, I accepted a new mission… I came here to save you and everyone in my band."

Snuggle time was over.

Sitting astride Artie's legs, White Crow shook her head. "I won't come back to the reservation. We'll fight and re-occupy our ancestral lands. We're 3000! We'll be victorious!"

He reached out, circling her navel then he fingered the cross-shaped scar on her hard-toned belly. "You won't win against the US Army, White Crow. They will kill you all, unless you accept to surrender and go back to the reservation. The President is ready to send troops here, the cavalry, the infantry, and canons! You have no chance to survive, none. It will be a massacre!"

She grabbed the blanket and stood, wrapping her tall and muscular frame with it. "You won't change my mind," she said, determined.

Propping himself up on his elbows, wincing as his stitched wound hurt, Artemus asked, "Do you want our son to die too? I hope not."

Hesitating for a few seconds, White Crow finally said, "He's a warrior, he'll choose where to stand when the time to fight will have come, and I'm sure he'll be at my side." Then she moved away from Artie.

She grabbed her clothes and began to dress.

Painfully moving into a sitting position, Artemus glanced at his stitches covered with a green gooey ointment fortunately not smelly, hoping they held. Then he looked up at White Crow with pleading eyes, "He's just a boy, please reconsider..."

But White Crow wouldn't budge. "No!"

Now wearing a buckskin shirt, long beaded wool leggings and moccasins she said, "Red Bear is old enough to fight and he's a very good warrior." She moved toward the entrance of her tepee and stopped there to add, "We'll leave to go to Sword Bearer's camp tomorrow, at dawn. We'll join him next evening." She pointed at a bundle of clothes sitting beside the fire. "I had your clothes cleaned and you'll have a new shirt, and your horse is ready but I'm sorry to tell you this but your birds are dead. The cage fell into the river when Black Feather was leading your horse through the river."

Surprised and then saddened, Artie nodded. "Poor Hector and Nestor…"

White Crow grabbed the collapsible flap. "You can leave anytime. I wish you a good journey back." Then she left the tepee.

Not knowing what to do next, Artie nodded. "Okay."

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That night

Sitting still on the trunk of a dead tree, beside the huge fire burning in the middle of the encampment, cleared of snow, Artie felt alone while he was surrounded by at least by 50 people (men, women and children) of the River Crows (Binnéessiippeele, 'Those Who Live Amongst the River Banks' ) who sang and danced to the rhythm of drums, happy to go fight against the soldiers, soon.

They would do that all night long until they collapsed from fatigue.

He noticed that everything was ready for the band's departure. Lightweight tepees had been collapsed and the poles were now used as travois and the travois which were horse-pulled had been loaded with the Crows's belongings. The numerous dogs which were guarding the encampment would be used as pack animals to carry belongings and pull travois too.

He spotted Red Bear among the teenage warriors grouped next to a group of horses, painting them with various colors and shapes.

He sighed with a heavy heart. He couldn't let his son die. He couldn't let his mother die. He couldn't let all his friends here die.

But they wouldn't go back to the reservation with him. Never.

But he could at least save his son Red Bear – by kidnapping him to then bring him out of here before it was too late.

But it was a risky move. If they caught him they wouldn't kill him – as he was a Crow warrior but they would banish him from the band and he wouldn't be able to see his son, ever, he thought.

He stood determined to carry out his plan, and then headed toward Red Bear still busy tracing red triangles on the rump of his appaloosa.

Once standing next to his son, Artemus said, "I'd like you to pain my horse too, his name is Vovó'hasé'haméhe it means Spotted Horse in Cheyenne language."

Smiling, holding a bowl containing red paint, the boy nodded. "So you are coming with us? I will fight at your side, father. Where is he?"

Feeling bad, but having no other choice, Artie led Red Bear to his horse which was tied against a tree a bit farther, behind some bushes.

Pulling leather thongs from behind his back, he rapidly tied up the surprised boy who didn't even try to resist and then pushed a cloth into his mouth. "I'm so sorry," he said. Then he hoisted the tied-up and gagged Red Bear across his saddle and using his rope, secured him there.

He grabbed the reins, mounted Vo, and sat behind the saddle. Then he kicked his horse's side and left the encampment, silently, moving in the darkness.

Once he was outside the Crow encampment, Artemus put his horse in gallop-mode to go away as quickly as possible.

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The next morning

Saying that White Crow was furious was an understatement.

Her jaw tightened, she growled, "He left! He left with my son! He kidnapped him! Red Bear would never have accompanied him voluntarily knowing that he would fight soon alongside Sword Bearer!" Her face twisting into one of pure anger she looked at Black Wolf, Red Eagle both mounted on their horses. "Find Red Bear and bring him to Sword Bearer's encampment. I'll be there with the rest of my band."

Black Wolf nodded. "What about Strong Bear?" He asked.

White Crow responded, "I don't care about him. Only my son matters. Bring Red Bear back to me, and protect him by all means. Soldiers are approaching and they have Pawnee scouts who are traveling ahead, and they could shoot him if they think they have been spotted."

Black Wolf nodded and told his mother, "They could kill Strong Bear too."

Red Eagle added, "We will protect him too – as he's wearing Crow clothes. Pawnees are our enemies. We'll escort him to the Cheyenne reservation."

Black Wolf nodded. "He'll be safe there. He's a Cheyenne."

Her face painted, White Crow proudly wearing a long warbonnet made from the tail feathers of the golden eagle leaped on her white horse covered with signs and raised her hand. "Let's join Sword Bearer!" and then she took the lead of the Crow warriors who armed with powerful bows and arrows, war clubs, spears, hide shields and rifles were surrounding her.

Both Black Wolf and Red Eagle headed in the opposite direction.

Meanwhile Half-Moon wearing a buffalo scalp headdress with horns and beaded rim was standing in the middle of the encampment and had started singing his sacred songs and calling upon the Great Spirit to make the coming fight against the white men a big success.

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At the same time

Ignoring Red Bear's numerous pleas to go back to his mother and to the others to be able to fight along with Sword Bearer, Artemus continued to move forward.

But he had changed his mind. The Crow reservation wasn't his destination anymore, but the nearby Cheyenne reservation.

It was closer and they would be safe there too. He was a 'Southern' Cheyenne called White Eagle and was well-known among the Northern Cheyenne bands.

He had to stop Vo at noon as the sun was high in the deep blue sky. His horse needed some rest, and he too. So he dismounted and started to walk toward the next trees-covered hill topped with snow. The Cheyenne reservation was on the other side. They should reach it at dusk.

Hearing the boy moan in pain, he untied him and lowered him to the ground. "Don't try to escape, I'll catch you easily," he said and pulled out the material in Red Bear's mouth.

Red Bear nodded and rubbed his scraped wrists where it hurt. "My mother has sent people after us to bring me… to bring us back."

Glancing at his injured and throbbing shoulder, Artie saw that his buckskin shirt there was soaked in blood. The stitches were broken and he had a mild fever, probably due to an infection. 'A medicine man will take care of me over there,' he thought. "I know, but we'll be in the Cheyenne reservation before they catch up with us. Now move, we have still miles to go."

Red Bear grabbed Vovó'hasé'haméhe's reins and then he complied. He knew he had no other choice, but he hoped Artemus was wrong. "Looking up at his father he said, "You told me why you did all that… but you shouldn't have. We, the Crow we have to fight to have our ancestral lands back."

Mopping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve, Artie replied, "You won't win against the US Army. Fight them and they will kill you – all of you." He pressed the boy's shoulder. "I can't let you die. You're my friends. I love your mother, and I love you, son."

Daxpitcheehísshish nodded. "My mother told me about you, how brave you are, what you did for the Crow… and she loves you too."

Looking at the horizon, Artie sighed and nodded. "She loved me, past tense… for now she hates me." Then he grimaced in pain.

Red Bear nodded. "I don't hate you."

Feeling tears welling to his eyes, Artie said, "Thank you." Then he followed the boy leading Vo toward the green and white hill.

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Later, at the foot of the hill

Mounting his horse again, with Red Bear sitting in front of him on the saddle again, Artemus pointed at the top of the hill, he saw over the treetops. "The Cheyenne reservation is on the other side."

Red Bear shook his head, paling in dread. "I don't want to go there! Cheyenne people are our enemies! They will kill us."

Shaking his head in his turn, Artie replied, "They won't! I'm a highly respected Cheyenne warrior. Everyone knows my Cheyenne name…"

Red Bear nodded. "But you are wearing Crow clothes!" he pointed out. "They will kill you thinking that you are a Crow! An enemy."

Nodding, Artemus said, "True, but I'm a white man! They will see it."

Red Bear nodded. "Cheyenne warriors have rifles and they can kill a man from a distance. They will see your clothes and focus on them, and not see your pale face."

He had just said that, when two Pawnee warriors recognizable by their shaved heads except for a scalplock and porcupine roaches on top appeared going out from behind a group of trees.. They wore blue army jackets and breechcloths and leather leggings and they were mounted on spotted horses.

Red Bear, said, "Pawnees! They're scouts from the Army!"

Before Artie and his son could do anything, one of the Pawnee Indians grabbed his rifle and fired – and the bullet missed the boy's head by a split hair.

Pushing Red Bear off the horse, Artie commanded, "Take cover!" and Daxpitcheehísshish rushed behind a boulder.

Raising his hand, Artemus said in English, "My name is Artemus Gordon! I'm not an enemy! I'm not a rebel Crow! Lower your weapons!"

But a second bullet was fired, ringing out and hit its designated target. There was a sharp pain in Artie's side, and he gasped as the breath was driven from his lungs.

He collapsed with a pained grunt from his horse and ended up in the snow – flat on his back, a burning piece of metal imbedded into his stomach.

Vo moved cautiously away.

Artemus's hands trembled as he pressed them to his abdomen where it hurt. Something wet and sticky covered his hands – blood! he realized.

His vision was blurred and darkened quickly. He passed out.

Red Bear leaped from behind the boulder to his unconscious father who was lying on the cold ground, noticing that he was still breathing, as puffs of white vapor escaped from his half-opened mouth - and grabbed his gun. Then he retreated back behind the rounded rock.

Moving closer, the two Pawnee scouts continued to fire, bullets raining on the rock, sending sharps pieces of granite flying everywhere.

Standing, Daxpitcheehísshish fired at the two men approaching at top speed, but missed them, the kick of the gun knocking him down.

He tried again, gripping the handle tightly, and missed again, the recoil of the Colt propelling him backward down to the icy snow.

Hearing the two Pawnee warriors working for the US Army tell him how they would slowly kill him – he curled up, holding the gun close to his chest, ready to fire again.

Holding a knife each, the two scouts moved closer to the big rock behind which the boy was hiding, a cold, cruel smile on their lips.

But they were brutally stopped by well-placed bullets lodged in their chests. They fell to the snow dying within seconds.

Red Bear looked to his right and spotted two Crow warriors heading his way, their horses galloping in the fresh snow. He recognized Black Wolf and Red Eagle.

He stood again, and seeing that the two Pawnees were dead, he rushed toward his father who was regaining consciousness.

As white as the snow surrounding him, Artie whispered, "You… okay?"

Red bear crouched beside Artie and nodded. "I'm unhurt," he said. Then he crouched beside his injured father who was pressing his hand to his side. Blood was pouring freely between his trembling fingers and the snow was reddening under his frame. "You're wounded…"

Gritting his teeth Artie nodded, He could feel the blood flowing from the open wound. "The bullet's still inside," he said, his voice raspy. He had been shot at least a dozen times in his career and he knew when a wound was deadly. He had escaped death each time, because he had had medical help… but here with no doctor in the vicinity, he was good as dead, he realized.

Red Eagle was the first to reach Daxpitcheehísshish and Artie and he knelt beside Strong Bear. "You're safe,'" he said.

Black Wolf crouched beside his brother and quickly examined Artemus's wound. He frowned in worry. It was a deadly one. The bullet had pierced a vital organ or more than one.

Red Eagle realized that too.

He met Artie's eyes and nodded. They both knew it was too late. But they both silently agreed not to tell Red Bear.

Black Wolf and Red Eagle helped Artie to his feet – the older man shouting in pain - and they leaned him against the boulder, keeping him upright.

Looking up at his bleeding father, then at the dead US Army scouts, Daxpitcheehísshish said, "We have to bring him to Fort Custer. A doctor will take care of him there and save him!"

Red Eagle shook his head and then said, "And be arrested? End up in a cage like an animal? Be hanged for rebellion? No. I'm going to put him on his horse and he'll go there by himself." He glanced at Artemus searching for his approval – knowing he didn't want Red Bear to see him die, and this way he wouldn't - but he was surprised to see Strong Bear shake his head.

Suddenly Artemus grabbed his gun from the boy's hand and pointed it at the three Crows. "Move back! All of you! He ordered.

Red Bear, Red Eagle and Black Wolf did what they were told. Then Artie whistled and Vo came out from a cluster of shrubs. He rubbed the horse's head. "Good boy."

Pointing to the Indians's horses, Artemus said, "You're all going to go with me to Fort Custer, you'll be safe there and no one… will arrest you and put you in a cell. I have a letter from the President in my saddle bag… it gives you his amnesty and protection…"

Black Wolf frowned in suspicion. "I don't trust white men! Even the President! He's like the others. They're all split-tongues!"

Sighing, Artie said, "Many politicians are liars, that's right, but not him." He winced and spat blood to the ground. "Now, do what t told you!" He winced. "I would have saved all three of you from the massacre that's going to happen… before dying."

The boy shook his head. "You're not going to die!"

Artie smiled reassuringly to his son. "If we hurry, I won't. Move!" and then he staggered, his black-spotted vision blurring.

Red bear nodded in approval because he wanted his father to be taken care of, and he knew it was the only solution to save him, he thought.

Black Wolf and Red Bear nodded too because they wanted to keep Red Bear safe. They both knew that the future battle against the soldiers would be terrible. Their young brother had little chance to survive, they both mused. He would be safe there.

But they wanted to be at White Crow's side during the battle, so Red Eagle said, "Let us go back to our mother's side. We have to protect her."

Black Wolf added, "You don't want her to die, Strong Bear?"

Shaking his head, Artie replied, "No, I don't, but I can't let you join her. You would die if I did that." Unable to mount his horse, Artie pointed in front of him. "We're going to walk up there… Move ahead of me, and I warn you, no tricks!"

Red Eagle crossed his arms on his chest. "You're injured and bleeding. You are weak. I could easily leap on you and disarm you."

Cocking the hammer of his gun, Artemus replied, "And I could easily hurt you. There's plenty of room in the fort infirmary."

Red Bear frowned. "You're coming with me! Strong Bear need to be healed! We must hurry!" He said at his two big brothers.

Both Red Eagle and Black Wolf nodded.

Artie started to drag himself, following the Indians, with one hand holding his gun, the other protectively over the bullet wound, wincing with each move. His mind was focused only on one thing: reach the fort to keep the Crows safe.

Only the adrenaline coursing through his veins kept him upward and moving.

He stopped after a couple of miles as a wave of pain and nausea hit him all at once. "I need… a pause," he said, breathless.

He glanced at his bullet wound finding it puffy and red, and he was still bleeding profusely. He didn't have much time left, he realized. 'I just need to reach the fort…' He thought, gritting his teeth.

Red Bear moved to Artemus's side and wrapped his arm around his father's waist. "I'm going to help you," he said determined to do that.

Nodding, Artie just croaked, "Thanks," and he re-started to walk with his son's help, the blood loss making him dizzy, his .45 Colt trembling in his grip.

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Later

Once in front of the large door of Fort Custer, soldiers pointing guns at him and at the Crow Indians from the walkway placed behind the high palisade, Artemus was hit by a wave of vertigo and he collapsed to the ground; on his back.

He let out a strangled scream and writhed on the icy ground in unbearable pain.

His heart in his throat, Red Bear fell to his knees next to his father's side and took his hand in his. "Don't die! Don't die!" he said, as he felt tears welling up in his eyes.

The heavy door of the fort opened.

Daxpitcheehísshish brushed some of Artemus's hair out of his gray and sweaty face. "Don't die, don't die, don't die," he repeated.

Four armed soldiers came out framing an officer. "What's happening here?" The young Lieutenant asked, moving toward a dying Artie.

Fighting to stay alive for just a few seconds more, tears of pain blurring his darkening vision, Artemus Gordon, in a last breath, told the Lieutenant, "My name's… Artemus… Gordon, Secret… Service… Protect these Crow Indians… Letter from the President in my saddle bag…" grabbing Red Bear's hand in his, he looked up at the boy. "Love… you… son. Tell White Crow… I love… " He didn't finish his sentence, choking on the blood that had welled up in his mouth.

Blessedly, the pain receded and his body went numb.

In his foggy mind, he distantly knew it was the end of him and felt no fear, but relief.

His son and his friends were safe. it was all that mattered.

Suddenly his muscles went slack and his chest ceased to move up and down. He died, eyes staring up at the falling snow.

To be continued.