The Savage Ones

The wagon train moved along without mishap for another two weeks, then when trouble struck, it struck hard and fast.

We were fording a river, one wagon at a time, and the water was swift and a little deeper than normal. Nine wagons made it across safely, but the tenth hit disaster. One of the oxen slipped on the wet stones and went down, causing panic amongst the rest of the team. They began to thrash and jump in the harnesses and that upset the wagon and it spilled over on its side, taking the three people inside with it. I was watching silently from the near shore, our wagon next in line. The current swept little Kerry Springer from the wagon and she was gone in less than five seconds, pulled beneath the surface and carried downriver before anyone could help her.

Evie Springer grabbed desperately at a rope tossed to her, but as she let go of the wagon and was being pulled to the far side she suddenly gasped and disappeared from sight. The rope sank beneath the surface with her, taut for a moment, the men pulling fiercely at it. It came loose with a sudden snap, but Evie was gone. By then four men on horseback had carefully reached the wagon and gotten out Adam, who'd broken his leg but had retained his grip on the wagon and the reins. They managed to get the wagon righted and the oxen eagerly strained in their harnesses to reach the bank, but more than half its contents were lost.

Our wagon went across next, Frank's hands on the reins calm and sure. Mamma sat stiff at his side, and I was in the back, looking down at the rushing water. Once the rest of our group was across, the wagon master took stock of the damage and Mister Garner, who knew something of medicine, set Adam Springer's leg. It was decided to make camp half a mile from the river while we recovered, and a group of six men went out to hunt fresh meat. A small herd of buffalo had been seen grazing nearby. Our camp waited restlessly for the hunters to return and we all heard the echo of gunfire signaling they'd found the animals. A long while later they returned, but not unscathed.

A horse had been gored and killed by an old cantankerous bull, and the rider had gone down right in front of the beast. He'd been trampled and killed, but before he died that old bull had charged head first at High Pearson. Though he'd lived, High's horse had not, and Mister Pearson suffered a broken arm and some cracked ribs.

It was quiet in the camp, the feeling of doom settling over everyone. Voices were hushed, and there was no laughter from the children, no songs from the men. Even Mamma, who normally hummed as she cooked, was silent. I helped her make stew and mixed together dough for biscuits, then while she tended that I put together a pot of coffee. Frank appeared from the gathering shadows, his face grave.

"There's some talk happening of turning back Jenny." He took off his hat and ran a stiff hand through his hair. "They figure we've some bad luck running against us."

"What do you want to do Frank?" Mamma looked at him, her face still and quiet.

Frank dropped to a seat on the tongue of the wagon turning his hat in his hands.

"I've nothing to go back to," he said softly, glancing up at Mamma, then over to me. "I figured to make a new life, and turning tail now is not going to make that happen. But I got you and Jaynie to think about,"

"We're going with you Frank wherever you decide to go." Mamma's voice was firm. "We're not afraid of the land, or its dangers. If you want to keep going, so do we."

"Jenny-" he started, but cut off quickly. It was no good arguing with Mamma.

Once she'd set her mind to something, she got her way. Only four months married, and Frank Colter knew enough to cut and run from a losing fight.

"What about you Jaynie?" His gray eyes found mine and held. "Do you want to keep going?"

It was the first time he'd asked for my opinion and I was surprised, and despite myself, pleased. I lifted my chin proudly.

"I'm not afraid either. West is where my people are, and I want to go!"

"Jaynie-!" Mamma started, shocked.

"It's alright Jenny," Frank put a hand on her shoulder, gently shushing her. "I asked for the girl's opinion, and she gave it to me."

"But Frank, if she were overheard speaking like that-!"

"Jenny," Frank was patient "She's a half-breed, and nothing is going to change that. Don't try to make her out to be all white, because she's not." He glanced at me, kindness in his eyes, and a twinkle of approval. "I have a feeling we're all going to need to be as tough as she is to survive this trip."

His comment pleased me some, and I felt a rush of warmth. Though I had no desire for his approval, to know Frank thought well of me cheered me somewhat. Papa had often said that a good warrior was nearly always respected, not only by his own people, but by his enemies as well.

The next day was quiet, as a small service was held for Evie and Kerry Springer, as well as for young Bill Drover. No agreement had been reached as yet whether the train would continue on or not, but Frank made it known we would keep going. He wanted to pull out the next day. I knew nothing of what was said or done before the next morning but when we left, twelve of the fifteen wagons went with us. We made twenty miles that day, thirty the day after, and twenty seven the day after that. It was quiet and peaceful on the surface, but underneath I could feel a current of unease. Tempers were somewhat short, nerves raw, and conversation was kept to the necessities outside of the individual wagons.

I'd noticed the others looking sullenly at Frank and Mamma, as though they half resented them, or feared them. To a young girl it made no sense. The other children were now all boys, as Chrissy Felton, the only other girl, had returned east with her family, or so we all thought. The Indian attack nine days after splitting told us different.

They caught us out in the open and Frank, who'd been up ahead scouting, spotted them coming.

"Circle the wagons!" he shouted, racing back toward us. "Circle 'em now, nice and tight!"

We barely got settled before they were on us, shouting and whooping war cries. It took me only a glance to recognize them as Lakota, and I felt myself thrill to see them up close. They were not of my people, but the nation was large, filled with many villages. I'd heard countless stories of their skill and courage and was amazed to see them up close. I felt no fear at all, only a good amount of caution. I did not have to be told they would view me as a white, and would kill me without thought.

Still, I watched with wide eyed wonder as my brothers charged fearlessly into battle against the guns of the wagon train. Then my keen eyes caught sight on a familiar blaze faced sorrel gelding, and I felt something inside me go quiet. The whirling chaos outside didn't sink into the calm within me as I then spotted a blue roan appaloosa gelding, and I knew. The other wagons were gone, as were the people with them.

Blasting rifles and swirling dust filled the air, and the battle waged on for what seemed an eternity. The Indians swept in then fell back again and again, as if daring the men to come out after them. The last wave before the line broke, brought thirty painted and whooping braves driving straight at the wagons. Their rifles barked, the twang of their arrows loud in the wood frames of the wagons, answered instantly by the guns inside the circle. Four braves toppled from the horses, and one started to rise, a red stain on his chest. My eyes fixed to him and I saw he was only a couple years older than myself. This attack could very well be his proving ground as a warrior.

From the corner of my eye I saw Ned Baily take aim at him, but before he could pull the trigger I threw myself at the man. My shoulder slammed into his arm and the rifle swung to the left and down as he pulled the trigger. Dust jumped two feet from the young brave's feet, and then he'd leapt aboard a pony running by and was gone.

~~~

"I ain't travelling with a traitor half-breed, I don't care if it's a knee sized girl or not!" Ned Baily was shouting angrily.

"They broke off and left," Frank was saying calmly "that's the important thing right now."

"What about next time Colter?" this came from High Pearson, who'd opted to stay with the group going west. "What happens next time she decides to side with the Indians?"

"Mister Pearson, please!" this came sharply from Mamma who stood with her hand on my shoulder. "My daughter would not endanger our lives!"

"With all due respect ma'am," Baily retorted sourly "she protected that young buck when I had him dead to rights. Don't think for a minute they'd spare us in return."

Voice broke out in confusion, some in defense of my actions, others against me. Through it all Frank Colter stood tall and quiet, his serious gray eyes taking it all in, letting them vent their anger and concern. It wasn't until they stilled for a breath that he spoke again.

"I've been hearing a lot of complaints, but as yet, I've heard no solutions." He fixed his eyes on Ned Baily, who was at the heart of the argument. "What do you want to happen Ned? She's a ten year old girl. Do you suggest we leave her out here, abandoned, to fend for herself? Or would you rather we hang her?"

It was suddenly so still I could hear Mamma breathing behind me as her grip on my shoulder tightened enough to hurt. Ned Baily suddenly looked uncomfortable, and no one would meet Frank's eyes. For a full three minutes no one spoke, then Frank lifted his head and spoke clearly.

"Alright, no one's got any suggestions, so we drop it! No one died, and we've lost nothing but a little time and some ammunition. I suggest we all get some food and some rest. We've got to be extra cautious from here on out."

That ended it and we broke up into our respective families and withdrew to our own fires and meals. Mamma was quiet and Frank kept his distance, and I knew they were both upset with me. Frank's opinion didn't bother me at all, but I never liked Mamma mad at me. After supper I tried to sit next to her or take her hand a couple times, but she smoothly avoided my attempts, all the while making it seem as though it were not deliberate. It hurt worse than if she'd beat me, and she knew it.

After I'd eaten I walked away from the fire and neither Frank nor Mamma called me back. Being hurt and angry, I wanted to be alone, to think things through, maybe figure a way to make it right with Mamma. I was outside the circle, looking up at the moon when I heard a rustle of noise behind me. I turned quickly to find the boys there, their faces hard and angry. There were six of them, and they were unhappy that I'd joined the wagon train to start with, and Ned Baily's son Al was always particularly foul. They ranged in age from eleven to fifteen, and quickly they surrounded me, making a tight circle without escape.

"Injun girl," taunted Jacky Pearson "you sided with your own people today. You wanna go back and live like a squaw?"

He shoved at me and I stumbled back against the body behind me. That boy pushed me violently and I fell to my knees, skinning the palms of my hands. It stung fiercely, but I kept my lips closed. I was Nakota, and I would not be made to cry!

"I think you wanna be treated like an Indian," threatened Al "I think you're nothing but a red devil's half-breed garbage!" he aimed a kick at me but I scrambled aside to avoid it.

His toe struck Toby Whitney's shin and the younger boy grunted in sharp pain. I smirked openly, contemptuous of them.

"No Indian girl would cry over being kicked!" I sneered proudly, taunting them.

It was the wrong thing to do, and I knew it was, but I was angry and I had no liking for any of them. Quietly cursing like grown men, those boys closed in on me and I resolved to stay silent and let no tears come to my eyes.

I tried to pick myself up later, and felt a shudder of pain through my whole body. My face hurt, my back screamed and my legs were shaking. No part of me was without agony but I made it to my feet, gasping quietly. Tears filled my eyes and dripped slowly down my cheeks. It had all taken place in a matter of minutes, the boys leaving quickly once the beating was done, and I lay still and quiet in the grass. They thought I was unconscious, but I'd merely gone limp and let them think they'd won.

I had no idea of telling on them for my blood was boiling, a primal rage stirred to life inside me. I intended to get even, to exact revenge! I limped quietly to the wagon, staying in the shadows, my feet making no noise against the grass. I could hear Frank and Mamma speaking softly.

"I'm worried Frank, she shouldn't be out there alone right now, not with how people are feeling against her."

"Jenny, you can't protect her forever, Jaynie's going to have to learn how to stand up to people who are going to hate her. She is strong, and she'll be alright." Frank answered soothingly.

Right then Mamma said something that warmed me.

"I'm not so worried about Jaynie, I'm worried about what she'll do if someone tries to punish her for what happened today. Her father taught her many things Frank, not the least of which was how to defend herself from attack. She's my daughter, but she's all Sioux Frank, and when she's angry she can be as ruthless as any grown Indian. She has too much of her father in her,"

I didn't wait to hear more, but staying in the shadows and keeping low, I made my way around to the Meyerson's fire. It had died down to ash and glowing embers, and they had no children. I knew they'd be in bed asleep, so I crept in close. I shed out of my soiled clothes, stripping down naked despite the coolness of the night air. I dipped my hands into the warm ashes and drew my fingers across my face and neck, mimicking the war paint I'd seen my father put on many times.

I ignored the sharp ache in my face and body. That done I slipped away and found a wide damp patch of earth, and churning it with my hands I turned it into mud. Liberally I coated my body with it, until no naked skin showed through. Then I began my hunt. Tonight I would make my father proud.