Comanche Raid (A Cheyenne Western--Book Six)

  Touch the Sky knew nothing of his people’s enemies when he returned to the life of the Cheyenne. But during his first buffalo hunt a band of Comanche attacked the tribe. Soon the silence of the prairie was shattered by the cries of the wounded and dying. Touch the Sky and his brother warriors had to fend off the vicious war party—or they would be slaughtered like the mighty beasts of the plains.

  COMANCHE RAID

  CHEYENNE 6

  By Judd Cole

  First published by Leisure Books in 1993

  Copyright © 1993, 2016 by Judd Cole

  First Smashwords Edition: January 2016

  Names, characters and incidents in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information or storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  Cover image © 2016 by Edward Martin

  Visit Ed here

  This is a Piccadilly Publishing Book

  Series Editor: Ben Bridges

  Text © Piccadilly Publishing

  Published by Arrangement with the Author.

  Prologue

  In 1840 Running Antelope and his Northern Cheyenne band were massacred by blue-bloused pony soldiers. The only survivor was his infant son.

  His Cheyenne name lost forever, the boy was adopted by John and Sarah Hanchon and raised in the Wyoming Territory settlement of Bighorn Falls. They named him Matthew and loved him as if he were their own blood.

  For a long time their love was enough to protect him from the hatred other settlers felt for a full-blooded Indian in their midst. But then he turned sixteen and fell in love with Kristen Steele, who returned his love. Her father had the youth viciously beaten. Knowing he was as good as dead unless he left her alone, Kristen lied and told Matthew she didn’t want to see him anymore.

  Then a young cavalry officer named Seth Carlson, who planned to marry Kristen, threatened to ruin John and Sarah Hanchon’s mercantile business unless Matthew cleared out for good. Forsaken in love, driven from the white man’s world to save his parents, he fled north to the Powder River and Cheyenne country.

  He was suspected of being a spy, and the Cheyenne nearly killed him. He was considered no better than a white man’s dog by most of Chief Yellow Bear’s tribe. But Arrow Keeper, the tribe shaman, had recently experienced a powerful medicine vision. This tall youth was marked by destiny to become a great warrior and leader of his people, though much suffering must come first.

  Though Matthew was renamed Touch the Sky and began to learn the Cheyenne Way, his enemies were many. The fierce young warrior Black Elk hated him instantly when he saw that Chief Yellow Bear’s daughter, Honey Eater, was captivated by the tall stranger. And Black Elk’s younger cousin, Wolf Who Hunts Smiling, openly announced his intention to kill the suspected spy.

  After helping to save his tribe from annihilation by Pawnees, Touch the Sky earned some respect and trust from the Headmen. But his enemies hated him even more for this recognition. Then Henri Lagace and his whiskey traders invaded Indian country, kidnapping Honey Eater when Chief Yellow Bear’s tribe painted for war against them. Touch the Sky killed Lagace and freed Honey Eater. But now, after hearing Honey Eater swear her love for Touch the Sky, Black Elk hated him more than ever.

  The tribe’s suspicions against him only deepened when Touch the Sky rushed back to the river-bend settlement of Bighorn Falls to help his white parents. Hiram Steele and Lieutenant Seth Carlson had already ruined the Hanchons’ mercantile trade; now they had launched a bloody campaign to drive them from their new mustang spread.

  Assisted by his friend Little Horse, Touch the Sky defeated his parents’ enemies. But his tragic plight worsened when he returned to the Cheyenne camp. Chief Yellow Bear had died, forcing Honey Eater to marry Black Elk. Worse, spies watched Touch the Sky during his absence. They mistook his meetings with the sympathetic cavalry officer Tom Riley as proof the Cheyenne was a traitor to his people.

  Old Arrow Keeper used his power as acting chief to save the youth. He announced that Touch the Sky would be trained in the shaman arts. He sent the young buck to sacred Medicine Lake in the Black Hills, to seek the same vision that Arrow Keeper had originally experienced. Touch the Sky received the images and secrets of the Vision Path, and saw his destiny as a great warrior who would someday lead the Shaiyena people in one last great victory.

  But he knew he must face many dangers before that time arrived. Shortly after his key vision at Medicine Lake, the chief-renewal ceremony was held, and Gray Thunder was selected to replace the dead Chief Yellow Bear.

  During the festivities, a keelboat called the Sioux Princess sailed into camp. The skipper, Wes Munro, claimed to be on a “goodwill” trip through Indian country, distributing gifts from the Indian Bureau. In fact, he was signing illegal “private treaties” with renegade sub chiefs, swindling the tribes out of their best land so he could start a transcontinental wagon road.

  Chief Gray Thunder sent Touch the Sky, Little Horse, and their enemy Wolf Who Hunts Smiling to join the crew of the Sioux Princess as replacements for boatmen killed in a Mandan raid. They learned of Munro s plans, and worked secretly to thwart him. Captured and brutally tortured, they escaped and brought word to their tribe.

  Touch the Sky counted first coup in the climactic battle against Munro’s mercenaries. But the jealous Black Elk hated him more than ever after catching Honey Eater crying in fear for Touch the Sky’s safety on the keelboat. And the ambitious Wolf Who Hunts Smiling, who dreamed of leading the tribe in a war against the Bluecoat pony soldiers, had warned Touch the Sky that one of them must die.

  Chapter One

  In the Moon When the Ponies Shed, Chief Gray Thunder of the Northern Cheyenne sent out scouts to locate buffalo trails. The cold moons had been long and hard, and the tribe badly needed fresh meat.

  The scouts returned with welcome news. The fresh trail of a huge herd had been spotted in the Valley of the Greasy Grass, near the Little Bighorn. It led due south toward the Colorado Plains.

  The Cheyenne Hunt Law was strict on the matter of buffalo hunting. Because buffalo were so essential to Cheyenne survival, and because everyone was needed if waste was to be avoided, the entire tribe must take part in the annual buffalo hunts.

  The unusually harsh winter had kept most of the tribe huddled around the fire pits in their tipis. Now, with the new grass well up and the mountain runoff swelling the rivers and creeks, the entire tribe was ready for the welcome activity of the hunt. The Headmen did not even bother to count stones when they voted on Gray Thunder s proposal to head south in pursuit of the buffalo.

  Touch the Sky was even more excited than most of the others. Though he had been on several hunts since joining the tribe nearly four winters ago, in the year white men called 1856, this was the first time the trail had led so far south. They would be traveling to the lands of tribes he had seldom seen—not only their brothers, the Southern Cheyennes, and their allies, the Southern Arapahos, but enemy tribes too, as Arrow Keeper reminded him.

  “The new soldier towns erected by the Blue-coats,” the old shaman explained, “have sent up the white man’s stink, frightening the herds and turning them far to the south. Now we must approach the valleys and peaks of the Kiowa and their loyal battle companions, the Comanches.”

  Touch the Sky listened eagerly as he lashed tipi covers to a packhorse. He and the elder were standing just inside a huge
corral formed by buffalo-hair ropes snubbed around cottonwood trees. It was the custom for every member of the tribe past infancy to perform work related to the hunt. But since Touch the Sky had no official clan to designate his task, Arrow Keeper had assigned this one. No one questioned this openly, since Arrow Keeper was the most respected elder in the tribe. And Touch the Sky was, after all, his apprentice in the shaman arts— a fact which caused several to remark privately that old Arrow Keeper had gone soft in his brain.

  “The Kiowa,” Arrow Keeper said, “are the envy of the red nations, for their pony herds are the finest. Better even than our Shaiyena ponies, and where is the Bluecoat horse that can match ours? But it is the fierce Comanche who truly become one with a horse! I swear by the sun and the earth I live on—there are no finer horsemen anywhere.”

  Touch the Sky nodded as he used rawhide thongs to secure the buffalo-hide tipi covers. He had nearly twenty winters behind him and was tall and broad-shouldered for a Cheyenne. The days had warmed since the spring melt, and now he wore only a clout, buckskin leggings, and elk skin moccasins. He had a strong, hawk nose, and his thick black locks were shaggy and long except over his brow. There they had been cropped short to leave his vision unobstructed.

  “I have seen Comanches when their ponies are shot out from under them,” Arrow Keeper said. “They are bowlegged and oddly built, and on foot the most awkward creatures I have ever seen. It is said they lose their courage too when not on horseback. But when riding in battle, there is not a coward among them.”

  “Father!” a mounted warrior shouted from the clearing in front of the council lodge. “Gray Thunder sent me to ask you. Should the soldier societies prepare for the Animal Dance tonight?”

  Arrow Keeper nodded. The young warrior, a member of the Cheyenne military society known as the Bowstrings, raced off to find the camp crier so the word could be spread. Touch the Sky watched the brightly dyed feathers tied to the tail of the warrior’s horse. These marked him as a member of a military society, or soldier troop, which had been selected to enforce the rigid Hunt Law between the day of the Animal Dance and the final slaughter of the hunt.

  By now Touch the Sky had learned how the various soldier troops differed from each other. The Bowstrings were the favorites because of their belief that negotiating was the best way to end a confrontation. The Bull Whips, in contrast, were quick to resort to their highly feared knotted-thong whips.

  Arrow Keeper saw Touch the Sky staring at the dyed feathers.

  “Soon, little brother,” he said, “you must consider which society you wish to join. I suggest the Bowstrings. Their leader is Spotted Tail of the Eagle Clan. He has courage, but also the good sense to look before he wades in. I cannot say the same for Lone Bear, who heads the Bull Whips.”

  Touch the Sky nodded. “Little Horse tells me that Wolf Who Hunts Smiling has brought a gift of arrows to Lone Bear. That he wishes to join their society.”

  “Your friend Little Horse speaks the straight word,” Arrow Keeper said. “I am not surprised. Wolf Who Hunts Smiling is hot-tempered and quick to rise up on his hind legs. He will make a good Bull Whip. They are becoming more and more like the Dog Men of the Southern Cheyenne who ride under the leader War Horse. True, they are fearsome warriors to be respected. But they openly defy their Headmen and the chief.”

  “Will his gift be accepted?” Touch the Sky said. “Will he be initiated?”

  Arrow Keeper shrugged. Despite the warming weather, he was still wrapped snugly in his red blanket. His long hair was much thinner than Touch the Sky’s, silver and brittle with age.

  “He is young, younger even than you. Normally a Cheyenne buck does not go to war before he has sixteen winters behind him. Before he approaches the soldier societies, he should have at least four winters behind him as a warrior. But Wolf Who Hunts Smiling was blooded early, like his cousin Black Elk. He can easily defeat any two Bull Whips, and Lone Bear knows this.”

  Touch the Sky finished his task in disheartened silence. Wolf Who Hunts Smiling was already doing a good job of keeping many in the tribe suspicious of Touch the Sky. How arrogant and influential would he be once initiated into the fierce Bull Whip Society?

  Arrow Keeper reminded Touch the Sky that he would be needed to assist at the Animal Dance later. When the old shaman returned to his tipi to rest, Touch the Sky took a break from his boring labors to check on his ponies.

  While he headed toward the far end of the corral, threading his way through the grazing ponies, he thought again of the upcoming hunt. Despite the dangers of entering enemy territory, the risk must be taken. Gray Thunders Cheyenne people needed much more from the buffalo than just fresh and jerked meat. They were critically short on hides for tipi covers, on warm fur sleeping robes and winter leggings. Cups would be made from the horns, belts and ropes from the hair, thread from the sinews, water bags from the bladders.

  Touch the Sky paused to watch a mare frisking with her new foal. Overhead, a red-tailed hawk circled against a seamless blue sky. Down by the river, a badger was digging its burrow. Wildflowers were ablaze further out on the prairie, and the rivers and creeks were swollen with snow runoff. The snowcapped mountain peaks on the horizon glittered white in the bright sunlight.

  One of Touch the Sky’s earliest lessons among the Cheyennes was to talk and think less and observe more. And lately, at Arrow Keepers quiet but steady urging, his young shaman apprentice was developing the habit of reading the secret language of nature. This very morning, Arrow Keeper had shown him how to examine a spider s web and predict whether the warm moons would be rainy or dry—long, thin threads meant dry weather, short and fat meant rainy. This particular web had foretold a rainy summer, good news since it meant the buffalo grass would be high and the herds fat.

  Touch the Sky spotted a beautiful gray pony with a thick white mane, stamping her feet in irritation at pesky flies. He cut her from the herd. She nuzzled his shoulder, glad to see him again. He had stolen her from a Crow warrior after beating Wolf Who Hunts Smiling at counting first coup on him.

  Touch the Sky grabbed a handful of mane. He was about to swing up onto his pony when a familiar voice abruptly caught his attention. Clearly the speaker was infuriated.

  “You make me a squaw in front of my clan brothers! I have warned you before about doing your duty!”

  Black Elk! Touch the Sky peered over his pony’s withers. The river was close by, and the grass dipped sharply to form its bank. So at first he spotted only Black Elk’s muscle-corded back. The young war chief was speaking to someone further down the bank, out of sight.

  “This is proof you do not carry my son in your womb! Why do you not bathe with the others? It is because your belly-mouth bleeds the unclean blood!”

  Suddenly Touch the Sky understood he must be speaking to Honey Eater. Cheyenne women were required to bathe separately when their bleeding time came.

  “You make me a squaw!” he repeated angrily. “The others are joking behind my back, saying that perhaps a Pawnee must be brought into my tipi to make a son for me!”

  His threatening tone alerted Touch the Sky. The young brave swung under the corral ropes and headed slowly toward the river. Every instinct warned him not to interfere with the fierce Black Elk. Yet those same instincts drew him to protect Honey Eater from his wrath. Now Touch the Sky could hear her speaking.

  “I do my duty and submit. You have your pleasure at night. Would you fault me because Maiyun has not chosen to make me a mother yet?”

  “I am a warrior, I do not quarrel with women! When I speak, you listen! It is common knowledge that, if a squaw hardens her heart toward her buck, his seed will not fertilize. You have turned your heart to stone against me. Thus, you deny me my son!”

  “Has Black Elk been visiting the Peyote Soldiers? This is wild nonsense.”

  “The cow does not bellow to the bull! I swear by the four directions, I will shame you into your duty, wife!”

  Touch the Sky broke into a run, fear icing
his veins, when he saw Black Elk grab his knife from its beaded sheath and leap down the bank. There was a sharp cry of protest from Honey Eater, a snarl of rage from Black Elk. By the time Touch the Sky reached the edge of the bank and peered down, the damage had been done.

  Honey Eater was still damp from her bath, and her doeskin dress clung to the soft curves of her body. Sunlight gleamed off the bone choker around her neck. A sob hitched in her chest when Black Elk threw the long, beautiful braid he had just cut off into the churning water of the Powder River.

  Rage warred with pity in Touch the Sky’s breast. Honey Eater s long, thick hair had been her pride. Every day she picked fresh columbine petals to braid into it. She looked lost and vulnerable now without it, her once-beautiful hair now a mass of jagged locks over her nape. Worse, Touch the Sky knew that cutting off a squaw’s braid was a public mark of shame. Black Elk had announced that she was failing to do her duty as a Cheyenne wife. He was calling on public censure by the tribe to force her to her senses.

  “Leave me alone!” Honey Eater said bitterly. “I cannot bear to look at your arrogant, accusing face. If I can prevent your child from growing in my womb, I surely will. Once I thought you were a hard man, but a fair one. I was wrong, you are only hard.”

  Black Elk’s rage was instant. He lifted his hand to hit her.

  Touch the Sky drew his knife and shouted, “Touch her again, and I swear by my medicine bundle I will send you under!”

  Black Elk whirled and looked up the bank. Honey Eater too stared at him. Her shame at the public mark of dishonor was evident immediately in the deep flush that turned even her earlobes red.

  Black Elk watched the two of them drinking each other in with their eyes. Disgust filled his voice when he said, “Moon Calf and his bitch-in-rut! Did you come down here, Woman Face, hoping to bull my squaw?”

  “Only to save her from murder,” the tall youth retorted. “The heathen Comanches, Arrow Keeper says, can kill their wives and it is not murder. But the Cheyenne Way does not permit wife-slaughter.”