A Lone Star Christmas

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Indian territory, December 5

The day after the fire, as they were having their breakfast they were surprised to look up and see an Indian, his face lined with age and wizened with experience. The Indian was standing less than ten feet away.

Clay smiled. “Ashki,” he said. “I see that you are still able to walk like a bird.”

“You did not hear?” Ashki asked.

“I did not.”

“You did not see me?”

“I did not.”

Ashki smiled. “I am old,” he said. “But still I can walk like a warrior.”

“Would you like breakfast?” Sally asked.

Ashki made a motion of drinking. “Coffee,” he said.

Sally poured a cup of coffee and handed it to him. “Won’t you try a biscuit?”

“Biscuit has no taste,” Ashki said.

“Sally, offer him a sinker,” Smoke said.

Sally gave the Indian a doughnut. He held it to his nose, sniffed, held it out and looked at it for a long moment before he took a tentative taste. At the first taste a huge smile spread across his face, and he nodded.

“It is good, this sinker,” he said as he took another bite. “Do you have tobacco?”

“Do you think I would come through Indian Territory without tobacco for my friend?” Clay asked. He walked over to the hoodlum wagon and searched around inside for a moment, then came back with a pouch and an envelope. “This ought to be enough tobacco to last you for a month or two,” he said. “And here is another gift for you.” Clay handed Ashki the envelope.

Ashki looked inside, then looked up with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Little white papers? Why do you give me little white papers?”

“Let me show you,” Clay said.

Clay took one of the little papers, lay it along his forefinger and index finger, curled it, then filled in some tobacco from a small bag. He rolled the paper closed, licked the side, then put it in his mouth and lit it.

“With these you can make a cigarette,” he said. “You won’t have to use your pipe.”

“A pipe you can share with others. How do you share the little papers with others? How do you care for it?”

Clay shook his head. “That’s the beauty of it. You don’t have to share it with others, because everyone else can have one of their own,” he said. “And there is nothing to care for. It burns up as you smoke it. After you smoke it, it’s all gone. There is nothing left.”

“It is the way of the people to share the pipe with others,” Ashki said. He pulled his pipe from a small bag he had hanging from a rawhide cord tied around his waist. “From my father, I got this pipe,” he said. “He got it from his father, and from his father before him. To my son I will give this pipe, and to his son and to his son. Can you do this with a paper pipe?”

Smoke laughed. “He’s got you there, Clay.”

“I can’t deny that,” Clay said.

Ashki filled his pipe, lit it, then, as his head was wreathed in smoke, he looked out at the herd. He pointed to the cattle.

“Are they buffalo?”

“Buffalo? No, they aren’t buffalo,” Clay said. “Ashki, you have been around buffalo all your life. You know that isn’t buffalo.”

“It is being said that you are taking buffalo from our land,” Ashki said. “There are many who want to make trouble for you, but I told them that I do not think you are taking buffalo.”

“Why would they think we are taking buffalo?” Clay asked.

“Because the cows are black,” Smoke said.

“Yeah,” Clay said. “I guess you are right. I guess from a distance, someone might think that. But they would have to think that they were awfully small buffalo.”

“Dohate thinks you are stealing buffalo,” Ashki said. “I told him I do not think so, but he would not listen. He has gathered many. I think he will make war with you soon.”

“Make war with us?” Clay replied quickly. “Ashki, are you telling me we are going to be attacked by Indians?”

“I think this is so,” Ashki said.

“How many?”

Ashki opened and closed his hand three times.

“Fifteen?”

“Fifteen,” Ashki said.

“Where will they be?”

“At the place of the Yellow Hair Fight,” Ashki said.

“Do you know where that is?” Smoke asked.

“Yes, he’s talking about the Washita River. That’s, where Custer and Black Kettle had their fight. That’s about five miles south of here,” Clay said. “I guess Dohate thinks it would be strong medicine to hit us there.”

“Do you know this man, Dohate?” Falcon asked.

“Yeah, I know him. I’ve had to pay him a toll every time we’ve come through here. Generally three or four cows is enough. Sometimes a horse or two. Which reminds me, Ashki, do you have a horse?” Clay asked.

“No.”

“Dusty, give our friend a horse from Mo’s string.”

“Come along, Ashki,” Dusty said.

As Dusty led Ashki over to the remuda to give him a horse, the others discussed their options.

“How hard would it be to go around the Washita?” Tom asked.

“There are only so many places where you can ford a herd this size,” Clay said. “It would add at least two weeks, maybe longer, if we tried to go around.”

“They say forewarned is forearmed,” Matt said. “Why don’t we attack them before they attack us?”

“Why attack him at all?” Tom asked.

“You heard the Indian, Tom,” Dalton said. “We don’t have any choice.”

“Dalton is right,” Clay added. “It’s either attack or be attacked, and I’d much rather attack. That way we control when, and where the fight is.”

“But you said that you know him, that you have dealt with him before. As I understood Ashki, Dohate’s biggest bone of contention with us seems to be that he thinks we are taking buffalo from them. Why don’t we leave the herd here and buy him off with a few cows? That way he will know we are not herding buffalo.”

“Tom has a point,” Smoke said. “If we can show him that we aren’t stealing buffalo, then we might be able to get out of this without a fight. I’ll cut out three or four cows and go meet him.”

“No,” Tom said.

The others looked at Tom in surprise.

“What do you mean, no? This was your idea,” Clay said.

“I don’t think that Smoke, or Falcon, or any of the rest of you should go. I think I should go, and I think I should go alone.”

“Why would you say something like that? What if you are wrong? You wouldn’t have a chance against them, all by yourself.”

“That’s exactly why I should be the one to go,” Tom said. “If I am wrong, and it comes to an actual armed confrontation, who would you rather have wielding a gun in your defense? Smoke Jensen? Or me?”

“You’re not making one lick of sense,” Clay said.

“Yes, he is,” Dusty said. “And you all know it.”

The others looked at each other and, for a long moment, not one person spoke.

“Clay, tell him he is foolish,” Rebecca said, a catch of fear in her voice.

“I am not being foolish, Rebecca,” Tom said, calmly. “Clearly, I am the most expendable of this group.”

“No, you aren’t expendable!” Rebecca said. “Not to me, you aren’t.”

“Rebecca,” Tom said. “This has to be done.”

“Tom, have you ever had any dealings with Indians?” Smoke asked.

“No. But I have dealt with people in stressful situations. And I’m not one who loses his head easily.”

“No, from what I have seen of you, I wouldn’t think that you would. Clay, you know Dohate, so why don’t you cut out a few cows, how many ever you think it will take? I’ll give Tom a quick course on dealing with Indians.”

“All right,” Clay said. “Dusty, you and Dalton want to cut the cows out? Pick out three.”

“Put a bell on the lead cow,” Tom said. “And string a rope between them.”

“Why do that?” Clay asked. “If you are only taking three cows with you, they won’t be that hard to drive.”

“If they were buffalo, could you bell the leader and string a line between them?” Tom asked.

“Not unless you wanted to get yourself trampled,” Clay said, then, as soon as he answered the question, he realized the point Tom was making, and he smiled. “I see what you mean,” he said. “You aren’t just book smart, are you? When they see you coming toward them that way, they aren’t likely to think you’re leading buffalo.”

“All right, while they’re rounding up the cows for you, let’s talk about Indians,” Smoke said. “First lesson is, when you are talking to one, look him directly in the eye. If he can’t see into your eyes, he won’t be able to fathom your medicine. And Indians set a great store by medicine. The stronger your medicine is, the more willing they are to listen to you.”

“All right,” Tom answered.

“Generally, the first one to talk to you won’t be the leader. Pay attention, you’ll be able to tell who the leader is, so when you start negotiating, that’s the one you want to negotiate with. And, this is important. Don’t ask who is the leader, you have to figure that out on your own. If you do that, he will take it as a compliment, meaning that his leadership is so evident that even a stranger can pick it up.”

“How will I find them?” Tom asked. “I mean, I know they are at the Washita, but how will I find them?”

“You won’t have to find them. They’ll find you,” Smoke said.

“All right,” Tom said again.

“It may be that they will all come toward you, especially since you will be alone, but more than likely, they’ll leave a few behind. And, as they come toward you, greet them like this.”

Smoke held his arm up, crooked at the elbow, with the palm facing out.

“That will show them that you have come in peace.”

“Do you really say ‘how’, when you meet an Indian?” Tom asked.

Smoke chuckled. “That’s close enough,” he said. “Actually, the word is ‘hau’.” Smoke put a guttural phrasing to the word that made it more distinctive, though it was close enough to ‘how’ that Tom could see where that came from.

“Should he take his pistol, or leave it behind?” Clay asked.

“Well of course he is going to take a pistol,” Rebecca said. “You are sending him out to face the Indians alone. Would you send him unarmed as well?”

“I will not take a pistol,” Tom said.

“Why not?” Rebecca asked.

“Think about it,” Tom said. “If they want to kill me, there is nothing I could do about it, even if I had a pistol, especially considering how many of them there are, and how ineffective I am with such a weapon. On the other if I face them without a weapon, they might perceive that as being without fear.”

“Tom does have a point, Rebecca,” Smoke said.

“I do have one more question,” Tom said.

“What’s that?”

“You said I should show them that my medicine is strong. How do I do that?”

Smoke sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “That one will be hard, but you are going to have to do it.”

“How?”

“It is important, no, let’s say it is vital, that you show no fear. No matter what they do, you must not show fear.”

“Do you think you can do that, Tom?” Clay asked.

“Nobody can show no fear at all,” Rebecca said, anxiously.

“I can do it,” Tom said.

“Tom, no, you know you—”

“Rebecca, look at me,” Tom said.

Rebecca looked at him.

“I can do it,” Tom said resolutely.

Dusty and Dalton returned then with the three cows, tied together by one long rope. And as Tom had requested, a bell had been attached to the lead cow. Tom started toward his horse.

“No,” Clay said. “Don’t take that horse, take Thunder. I’ve seen you ride, Tom,” Clay said. “Maybe you can’t shoot, but I’ve never seen anyone who could ride better than you, and on Thunder I doubt there is an Indian in the territory who could catch you. If it looks like things aren’t going to go the way you think they should, you put spurs in Thunder’s side and get the hell out of there.”

“Now that is the most intelligent thing I’ve heard yet,” Rebecca said.

“I’ll get Thunder saddled for you, Tom,” Dalton said.

“Thanks.”

“Dalton, wait,” Clay called. “I seem to recall that Dohate has a taste for horehound candy. I know you got some while we were in Dodge. Do you have any left?”

Dalton was a little embarrassed by the question. He had bought some, but he wanted to keep it secret, not to prevent any of the others from having any, but because he was afraid they would think it was childish.

“Yeah, I’ve got some left,” he admitted sheepishly.

“After you get Thunder saddled, give some of it to Tom. He might have a use for it.”

“All right,” Dalton agreed.

“Tom?” Rebecca called.

Rebecca turned and walked toward the wagon, indicating that she wanted him to come to her. He did.

“Rebecca, you aren’t going to be able to talk me out of this,” Tom said.

“I know,” she said. “So I won’t even try.”

“Good.”

“Do you love me, Tom?”

“Rebecca, this hardly seems the time or place for us to discuss something like this.”

“I will ask you again, very slowly, and very distinctly. Do—you—love—me—Tom? It’s not a hard question.”

“Rebecca, there are things about my past that you don’t know,” Tom said. He held up his hands and looked at them. It was as if he could still see the blood.

“I don’t care about your past, Tom. I only care about now,” Rebecca said. “I know that you are not who you seem to be. I know you are not a cowboy. I know you are not a Westerner. I know that you have an education, a wonderful education, more than anyone I have ever known. And I know that you must have come from a life that is very different from this one. And whatever it was that made you give up that life must have been something very significant. I don’t know what it was and I don’t care what it was.

“I only know that here, you have been able to make a new start. Half the men in the West are not that different, Tom. There are many men here, and women too, who are making a new start.”

“Tom, we’ve got the horse here, ready to go,” Clay called.

“Do you love me, Tom?”

“This is not good for either one of us, Rebecca.”

“I’m only going to ask you this one more time, Tom. This has nothing to do with who you are, what you are, or what you are running from. This has only to do with you and me, right here, and right now. Do you love me, Tom?”

“Yes,” Tom said. “For both of our sakes I wish I could say otherwise, but, God help us, yes, Rebecca, I do love you.”

Rebecca smiled, then kissed him, a short, brushing peck only, on the lips.

“Come back to me safely, Tom,” she said.

Tom nodded and looked at her, opening himself up to her so that she could look deep into his eyes, all the way to the scars on his soul. Then, turning away from her without speaking another word, he started toward Dalton, who was holding both Thunder, and the string of three cows.

Smoke came over to talk to him.

“Tom,” Smoke said. “Even leading the cows, you should be there within an hour. As soon as you give them the cows, turn and start back. Do not break into a gallop. At a gait that is comfortable for the horse, you should be back here within two hours from right now. If you are not back here within two hours, we are coming after you.”

“I’ll be back,” Tom said.

Smoke reached out to shake Tom’s hand. “I’m sure you will be,” he said.

As Tom rode toward his rendezvous with Dohate and the Indians Dohate had with him, he thought of his conversation with Rebecca. Should he have confessed to her that he did love her? Wouldn’t it have been much better to tell her that he didn’t, rather than build her up for what could never be?

Or should he tell her of his past? No, he had told her, but it did no good.

Like turning the pages of a book, a part of his past opened up to him.

“I’m telling you now, Tom, don’t do this.”

“But I can do it, I know I can.”

“It is too big a risk.”

“I have to do it, don’t you understand?”

“Maybe, for one, but not for both of them.”

“Are you telling me I must choose?” Tom asked.

“Yes. Choose one, or lose both.”

“I can do it. All it takes is a steady hand and self-confidence,” Tom said.

“Yes, but there is a difference between self-confidence and arrogance. A big difference. Somehow you don’t seem to understand that.”

“Arrogance? My God, do you think I’m doing this from a sense of arrogance? This is my wife! This is my child. Now either help me, or get the hell out of the way, because I’m going to do it.”

“You are going to have blood on your hands, Tom. Can you live with that?”

Can you live with that? Can you live with that? Can you live with that?

Could he live with it? Tom still didn’t know the answer, and now as he continued to ride south, he held up his hands and looked at them. The blood was there still. How could he ask for Rebecca’s love?

The Washita River was directly ahead of him now; he could see the long line of trees growing along the banks of the river. Tom remembered crossing it on the way up to Dodge City. He remembered being particularly interested in it, because he had read all about its bloody history. Custer and Black Kettle had fought a battle here. And, because there were several Indian encampments along the river, they had all come to join in the battle, which resulted in over one hundred Indians being killed and fifty-one lodges and their contents burned. In addition, the camp’s pony herd of roughly eight hundred horses was killed. The Seventh Cavalry suffered twenty-two men killed, including two officers, Major Elliot and Captain Hamilton. Captain Hamilton was the grandson of Alexander Hamilton.

It had been bitterly cold on the day of the fight, and it was very cold now. Tom couldn’t help but relate to the soldiers of the Seventh Cavalry, not only because of the cold, but because he was riding to meet some Indians, and he had not the slightest idea as to what was going to happen.

He knew, though, that he was about to find out, because ahead, emerging from the line of trees, he saw a number of Indians coming toward him. A quick count determined that there were ten of them approaching. If Ashki had been accurate with his own count, that meant that at least five of the Indians were staying out of sight.

As one, all ten started galloping toward him, yipping and yelling at the top of their voices, urging their horses to top speed. Tom was pretty sure, at this point, that he if dropped the rope to the cows, turned around and gave Thunder his head, he could easily outrun them. But that wouldn’t accomplish anything. The herd would still have to come through here to cross the Washita, and if this issue wasn’t resolved now, the Indians would still be here waiting on them. Because of that, Tom stopped his horse, and simply stood his ground as the ten Indian ponies thundered toward him.

Smoke had told him to crook his arm at the elbow and hold his hand up, palm out, so that is exactly what he did as they approached.

The Indians reined up when they reached him, then looked at each other in surprise. They had expected the lone rider to turn and run.

“How,” Tom said. “Good morning.”

The Indians began speaking to each other, but as they spoke in their native language, Tom could not understand what they were saying.

“He is a man with powerful medicine. He has no fear.”

“He has fear. If I raise my war club over his head, he will show fear.”

“No, I think not. I do not see fear in his eyes.”

“His medicine is not strong enough to overcome the fear of dying, this I will prove to you. I will raise my war club over his head. If he shows fear, I will kill him. If he shows no fear, I will let him live.”

Though Tom had no idea what they were saying, he was certain they were talking about him, and when one of them raised his war club and let out a menacing, blood-curdling yell, he knew they were talking about him.

He also sensed, though he had no idea how he was able to sense this, that the Indian had no real intention of killing him, but was just testing him.

“Show fear, White Man,” the Indian said in English. “Show fear, for I am about to kill you!”

Tom remained motionless, staring directly into the eyes of the club-wielding Indian.

“Show fear!” The Indian shouted again, his voice as loud and menacing as he could make it.

Suddenly, Tom realized that he wasn’t going to be killed. He realized too, that he had passed the test, and he smiled.

“Ayiee,” one of the warriors said in his own language. “Look at him, how he smiles at death! His medicine is great.”

One of the Indians, one who had not spoken before, held his hand out toward the Indian with the war club. Tom knew then that this was the leader. It was as Smoke had told him.

“Put the club away,” the leader said in English. Then he spoke to Tom. “My name is ...”

“I know who you are,” Tom said. “You are Dohate.”

During the entire confrontation, Tom had not let go of the rope by which he had been leading the three cows. He handed the rope to Dohate.

“How is it that you know my name?” Dohate asked.

“I have heard stories told of Dohate, a brave and fearless warrior,” Tom said, playing up to the Indian’s ego. He knew that he had scored when he saw the look of pride and satisfaction on Dohate’s face.

“Because the cattle we are driving are black, you thought they were buffalo,” Tom said. “But as you can see it is only cattle.”

“I have never seen cattle such as these.”

“They are called Angus,” Tom said.

“Angus,” Dohate repeated, though when he spoke the word it came out as “Angoose.”

“Never have you eaten meat that is better than this,” Tom said.

Dohate took the line. “You make gift to Dohate?” he asked.

“Yes,” Tom said. “In return, we ask that you let us pass through.”

“What is your name?” Dohate asked.

“My name is Tom. I am told, also, that you like this candy.” Tom handed a little bag of horehound candy to the Indian and he looked inside, smiled, then took one out and put it in his mouth. He did not offer any of the candy to anyone else.

“Your cattle may pass, Tom.”

When the others saw Tom returning, they hurried out to meet him.

“You are here and the cows aren’t,” Clay said. “I take it that means you and Dohate worked things out?”

“Our cattle may pass,” Tom said.

“Good job, Tom!” Clay said.

“Smoke?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you for your briefing. It proved to be very helpful,” Tom said.

Red River, December 10

They were within sight of Texas now, and though they were still quite a way from their ultimate destination, there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing that they would be back in Texas by the next day. It was bitterly cold, much colder than it had been during any part of the drive, even though they were significantly farther south from where they started.

“As soon as we cross the river, we’ll be in Texas,” Dusty said.

“But it is later into December than we thought it would be, isn’t it?” Sally asked.

“Yes,” Clay said. “Later than I would like.”

“How long until Christmas?” Dalton asked.

“Fifteen days,” Rebecca said. “This is the tenth.”

“I wonder what Pa got me for Christmas.”

“Why, Dalton,” Clay said. “I figured letting you come on this drive was your Christmas present.” The others laughed.

“That might be true,” Dalton said. “I know that I’ve enjoyed this more than anything I’ve ever done before. It has made me appreciate what cowboys do.”

“It’s done something else for you, too, Dalton,” Clay said. “It has made you a man.”

“Clay’s right, son,” Dusty said. “You’ve become a man I could work with, and probably some day work for, and be proud to do it.”

“Thanks,” Dalton said, beaming with pride over the praise. “Dusty, Duff, would you all play some Christmas carols?”

“I’ll play them if you folks will sing along,” Dusty said.

As the campfire burned brightly, sending sparks high into the night sky, the eight men and three women sat close enough to enjoy its warmth, and filled the night air with their music.

“I wonder which star it was,” Dalton said, as he looked into the black vault overhead. The sky was filled with stars, from the brightest ones of the highest magnitude, on down to the smaller and dimmer stars, until finally nothing could be discerned but a fine blue dusting of stars that were just below being visible, except for the blue dust they scattered across the heavens.

“You mean which star led the wise men to the baby Jesus?” Sally asked.

“Yeah, I wonder which one it was?”

“Maybe it was that one,” Dusty suggested, pointing to one particularly bright pin-point of light.

“No, that’s Venus,” Tom said. “It isn’t a star, it’s a planet.”

“Maybe it was the North Star,” Smoke suggested. “It has guided me, many a time,” Smoke said. “And there it is.”

“That’s Polaris,” Sally said.

“That’s easy to find. All you have to do is line it up with the Big Dipper,” Dalton said.

“I wonder if any of the stars in the Big Dipper have a name?” Clay asked.

“They all have names,” Tom said. “The first star in the Dipper’s handle, is Alkaid. Then comes Mizar and Alioth. The stars in the cup are called Megrez, Phecda, Dubhe, and Merek.”

Tom pointed out each of the stars as he named them.

“What is that star?” Dalton asked, pointing to another one.

“I don’t know.”

“I was beginning to think you knew the names of all the stars.”

Tom laughed. “Well, now, there are billions of stars,” he said. “So not all of them have names. That means we can name some if we want to. Suppose we name them after the ladies? We can call that one Maria, that one Sally, and that one Rebecca.”

“Wow, my sister has her own star,” Dalton said.