Black Hills Badman

14

Fargo went to reach for his Colt.

“Touch it and die, white dog.”

Fargo froze. He didn’t doubt the threat would be carried out. The two warriors with Little Face looked eager to sink their arrows into him.

Sweet Flower shifted from under him. “What is the meaning of this?”

“I saw you follow the white men who came to our village,” Little Face said in his usual flinty tone. He wore his buffalo robe, and his face was pinched in displeasure. A small face, it was, much too small for a man his size, which was why he had the name he did. “I came after you to find out why, daughter.”

Fargo was flabbergasted. He glanced from her to Little Face and back again and didn’t see any resemblance at all.

“I asked Long Forelock and Bear Loves to come with me and help me stop you,” Little Face had gone on. “I have planned for too long to have you ruin things.”

“I wanted to see the white woman,” Sweet Flower said.

Little Face grunted. “Instead I find you lying with the white man I most want dead.” He glared at Fargo. “We meet again, He Who Walks Many Trails. I have waited a long time for this.”

Sweet Flower gave a start. “This white man is the one you always talk about? The one you want to kill so much?”

“You did not know?”

“I did not see him when he came to our village that time. I was with Left Handed Buffalo then, remember?” Sweet Flower calmly picked up her dress. “I am sorry to lie with your enemy, Father.”

“That you would lie with any white man saddens me. You know how I feel about them.”

“I was curious.”

Little Face sighed. “Your mother was the same way. She tested my patience just as you do.”

“I miss her,” Sweet Flower said.

“I miss her, too. She was a brave woman. She took a Blackfoot arrow meant for me.” Little Face stared at Fargo. “I wanted a white woman to take her place but this one persuaded the council to let her go back to her people.”

Fargo finally found his voice. “Tell your daughter why you wanted a white wife.”

“Why did you, Father?” Sweet Flower asked.

Little Face’s smile was positively vicious. “So I could treat her as she deserved. Every day I would beat her. Every day I would kick her and spit on her. Every day she would wish she could die but I would not let her. It would have given me great pleasure.”

Something occurred to Fargo. “If you hate whites so much, why did you agree to talk peace with them?”

Little Face squatted, his dark eyes glittering with delight. “Do you truly think I would? Knowing me as you do?”

“No.”

“You know me well.” Little Face grinned. “I will tell you why I have agreed to meet this Kee-ver. But first.” He turned to his daughter. “Go back to our village and wait in our lodge. We will talk when I am done here.”

Fargo saw that she had put her dress on. He thought maybe she would say something on his behalf but she didn’t even look at him.

“As you wish, Father. Again, I am sorry.”

“I am disappointed. But you did not know. Now go. I have much to do.”

Sweet Flower put a hand on Little Face’s shoulder. “Be careful, Father.” With that, she was gone, sprinting off through the trees.

Little Face turned back to Fargo. “Life holds many surprises, does it not? You did not guess that you are here because of me.”

“I must have missed something?”

“Heed me. Listen and learn, for you do not have long to live.” Little Face was enjoying himself. “I have hated you since you took the white woman from me. I would have killed you that night for asking the council to spare her but you have too many friends among the Lakota. They would be angry with me.”

Fargo glanced at Long Forelock and Bear Loves, hoping they would lower their bows so he could try for his Colt.

“I had to swallow my anger. I had to hold my hate inside and let you ride from our village. But I vowed to have my revenge. I spent many long nights thinking how to do it. I needed to lure you back without you knowing it was me who lured you.”

“You speak with two tongues. I am not here because of you. I was hired to guide the man the Father of all the whites sent to talk peace with the Lakotas.”

“Who do you think got word to this man asking him to come? Who do you think suggested he ask you to be his guide?”

Fargo wasn’t buying it. “You still speak with two tongues. How could you know to contact Senator Keever?” He had to use the English words since there were no Lakota words for “senator’ or “Keever.” “How would you get word to him?” Even as he asked, the answer hit him with the force of a physical blow.

“The one called Owen went to this Kee-ver for me. It was Owen who told Kee-ver that you should be his guide. Owen did so because I asked him to. I led him to think you were my friend.”

The sheer deviousness of Little Face’s scheme began to sink in. “You son of a bitch,” Fargo said in English.

Little Face laughed. “You are mad. Good. You will be even madder when I tell you the rest.” He folded his arms across his knees. “My inviting this Kee-ver to talk peace came to me in a vision.”

Fargo kept glancing at the other two. But, damn them, they held their bows steady.

“I have counted coup on whites,” Little Face rambled on. “Many Lakotas have. Yet no matter how many we kill, more keep coming to our land. They do not fear us as they should, as our other enemies do, and I want the whites to fear us. I want them to fear us so much, they will never set foot in Sioux country again.”

“Nothing you can do would make them fear you that much. They will think nothing of it.”

“In my vision I saw differently. In my vision I saw a pack of wolves trying to bring down a bull elk. The elk gored them with its antlers and kicked them with its hooves. But no matter how many it hurt or killed, the wolves did not give up. They kept coming, again and again.”

Fargo waited. There would be a point to this. There was always a point to a vision.

“Then the leader of the pack leaped at the elk’s throat and the elk caught the wolf on its antlers and pinned it to the ground and an antler pierced its heart and it died. Do you know what happened next?”

Fargo refused to answer.

“The rest of the wolves went away. Their leader was dead and they gave up the fight. Do you understand? Do you see what that meant?”

“I am sure you will tell me.”

“The bull elk was my people. The wolves were white men. For the white men to go away and not bother my people, we must kill one of their leaders. We must kill a man high in their councils, a man they all know, so that when they hear he is dead, it will fill them with fear and they will stay away from our land.” Little Face smiled smugly.

The devil of it was, Fargo reflected, that killing a United States senator would create quite a stir. Every newspaper in the country would carry the story. People would be more fearful than ever of venturing into Sioux territory. “Why did you pick Keever?”

“I asked Owen to tell me who was great in white councils. He could only think of a few, which surprised me.” Little Face uttered a snort of disgust. “I have always known whites are stupid, but to not know their own leaders. When I asked Owen how this could be, he told me that he had no interest in what whites call . . .” He stopped, his brow furrowed as he tried to recall the word.

“Politics,” Fargo guessed.

“Yes. That is it. Owen said the Great White Father would not come himself but he might send what he called a sen-a-tor, who is almost as high in white councils.” Little Face’s eyes narrowed. “He spoke straight tongue? This sen-a-tor is an important white?”

Fargo thought fast. “No. A senator is not high in white councils. Kill him and the other whites will not notice.”

Little Face grinned. “You talk with two tongues.”

“Think what you want,” Fargo said with a shrug.

“I think that when I meet with this Sen-a-tor Kee-ver at sunset, I will invite him into my lodge and give him drink and food. I will make him think I am a friend, and when I am ready, when he least expects, I will cut his throat from ear to ear. Or maybe I will bind him and cut off parts of his body to test his courage.”

“What about Owen?”

“Will I let him live, you mean?” Little Face’s grin widened. “Someone must go back and tell the whites what happened.”

Fargo had to hand it to the wily devil. As plans went, it wasn’t half bad. “You have this well thought out.”

“There is more. After I kill this Kee-ver, I will take his woman as my own. I will do to her all the things I wanted to do to that other white woman, the one you saved. I will beat her. I will have her eat what a dog would eat. I will make her weep and grovel at my feet, and this time you cannot stop me.”

“I will not need to. Your plan has flaws.”

“A vision is always true. You know that. You have lived with us.”

Yes, Fargo had, and yes, he knew how much stock they placed in their visions. The Lakotas would go off alone and do without food and water for days in the hope a vision would come to them. “What about after what you saw in your vision?”

Little Face appeared puzzled. “After?”

“Yes. After you kill Keever and take his woman. Have you thought that far ahead? Killing him will cause some whites fear but it will make many more mad. The Great White Father will be mad, and he will send his blue coats against the Lakotas in numbers as great as the blades of grass on the prairie.”

Little Face laughed.

“The whites will do to the Lakotas as they have done to many other tribes,” Fargo went on. “Their soldiers will build forts where they will be safe from your arrows and lances. When they come out, your people will kill some of them and they will kill some of you. But always when you kill them, more soldiers will come to take their place. Bit by bit they will whittle you down to where there will be so many of them and so few of you that there will come a day when they drive you from your land.” Fargo paused. His talking served a purpose. He was hoping to lull the other two into finally lowering their bows.

“I do not believe you.”

“Thousands of Lakotas will die and it will be your fault. Your hate will bring sadness to their hearts and an end to their ways.” Fargo could have yipped with glee when Long Forelock let his bow dip so that the arrow was pointing at the ground. Bear Loves, though, hadn’t lowered his.

“You try to put fear in my heart. Fear for my people. But I do this for them. To keep them safe, and our land safe.”

Fargo wondered. Little Face had always flattered himself that he was a man of great importance. “Is that all there is to it? Or is it so that you want to stand higher in their eyes?”

“I will enjoy killing you more than I have enjoyed killing any enemy ever,” Little Face declared.

“I am not an enemy of the Lakotas,” Fargo tried.

“You are my enemy. You are my enemy because you are white. You are my enemy because you stopped me from taking that white woman. And now you are my enemy because you have been with my daughter.” Little Face’s features hardened. “I will stake you out and skin you. I will chop off your fingers and toes. I will dig out your eyes. When I tire of your screams, I will cut out your tongue. It will bring me much happiness.”

Fargo almost gave a start. Bear Loves had started to lower his bow. Not much, only a few inches.

“The whites have a word for man like you,” Fargo said. “I think you know what it means.” He bent toward Little Face and smiled to add salt to the verbal wound. “That word is bastard.”

Little Face lost his temper. Snarling, he whipped a knife from under his buffalo robe, and lunged. In doing so, he threw himself between Fargo and Bear Loves, which was exactly what Fargo wanted. Grabbing Little Face’s wrists, Fargo heaved upward. He was buck naked but that hardly mattered when any moment he might be dead. He saw Bear Loves step to the right for a clear shot and he instantly stepped to the left, keeping Little Face between them.

“Subdue him!” Little Face yelled at the others.

Long Forelock flung down his bow, streaked out a knife, and started to come around him.

Fargo’s intent was to reach the Ovaro. The Henry was still in the saddle scabbard. Once he got his hands on it, they would answer for their arrogance. Or if need be, he could escape and come back later. He had spare buckskins in his saddlebags, an older set that needed mending, but they would do.

“Help me!” Little Face fumed.

Bear Loves was gliding to the left.

Fargo risked all on a desperate gamble. He swung Little Face at Bear Loves, and shoved. Little Face squawked and tripped and they both went down, tangled together. Long Forelock thrust with his knife but Fargo was ready. He side-stepped and landed a solid cross to the jaw that jolted Long Forelock back.

The way to the Ovaro was clear.

Fargo took a bound, only to have Bear Loves fling out a leg and hook his ankle. Fargo tried to stay on his feet but gravity took over and he landed hard on his hands and chest. He pushed up and was almost to his knees when the razor tip of a knife was jabbed against his neck.

“Are you ready to die?”