Pawnee
The wagon train halted an hour later for the noon meal. Early that morning Flint had chosen this location for the travelers to stop. There was plenty of grass and the bank of the Platte was low enough to allow the men to water the stock.
Billy returned, his sack half filled with plate size discs of sun baked buffalo dung. He helped Emma tie the sack to the outside of the wagon for later use. The break was short and at one o'clock the bugle sounded again for the caravan to continue steadily west.
Liam drove his own wagon. He told Emma if Daniel didn't return in a couple of hours Michael would drive her team for a while. Billy rejoined her, recounting every detail of his morning adventures.
Emma's mind began to wander and she was only half listening to Billy when one of Vada May's little boys ran up to the wagon. "Hey Billy, the huntin' party's back!"
"Hello Ned," Emma greeted. "How's your mother feeling?"
For just an instant the boy looked annoyed, then it passed and he answered politely. "She's feelin' much better Miz Watson, thank you for askin'."
"I'm glad to hear it. Tell your mother I'll try and get over to visit after supper."
"Yes ma'am." Ned again seemed irritated. Obviously he had important news he was dying to share.
Emma almost laughed when Billy began asking his own questions.
"Did they shoot anythin'? What'd they get? I sure wish I could go huntin'. But I don't know how to shoot a gun. Maw ne'r let me touch 'em."
"Billy, would you shut up?"
Billy glared at the smaller boy, but Ned didn't care. He was nearly bursting to tell his news. "Guess what?" He asked but wouldn't give Billy a chance to answer. "Charlie Pruit and Ezra Beecham got in a fight with Flint and Daniel!"
"A fight!" Emma exclaimed horrified.
"A fight!" Billy cried out gleefully.
"Yeah, Mr. Pruit and Mr. Beecham wanted to shoot a buffalo, but Flint said they had enough meat and it'd be a waste. Mr. Pruit said they was thousands o' buffaloes, so who cared. Flint got real mad and told him he weren't gonna allow no one to shoot nothin' just for the sake of shootin' it. And when Mr. Pruit tried to kill the buffalo, ol' Flint jumped him. Then when Mr. Beecham tried to help Mr. Pruit, Daniel jumped in to help Flint!"
"Oh heavens! Did anyone get hurt?"
"They's fine Miz Watson, 'cept ol' Flint busted Mr. Pruit's nose." Eagerly Ned demonstrated the punches for his friend.
Billy's eyes widened. "Wow!"
"Yeah, you should've seen it! Blood was e'erywheres!"
Emma shook her head and smiled. From the way Ned described the fight, it sounded as though he were actually an eyewitness. Billy certainly seemed to think so.
"Come on Billy," Ned invited. "Mr. Pruit's nose is all swoll up and the whole front of his shirt is soaked with blood!" The pair dashed off around the wagon. Emma shook her head.
A few minutes later Daniel and Flint rode up beside the wagon. From what Emma could see, Flint looked the same as he always did and the only evidence that Daniel had been in a fight was the extra dirt on his clothes and some slight bruising along his left cheekbone. She frowned at the pair none the less.
Daniel grinned. "You heard."
She nodded. Daniel actually seemed pleased with himself. That observation was confirmed when Flint said, "Now don't git mad Miz Watson. Yer man here done real good." He gave Daniel an affectionate whack between his shoulder blades that would have tumbled Emma to the ground. But Daniel only seemed to sit up taller in the saddle.
The three of them talked for a few minutes. Daniel noticed Emma seemed to be in a better mood than she was this morning. This trip was hard enough without having to be sick every morning. Emma said it would pass. He hoped so because according to Flint, this part of the trip was the easiest. Soon the land would start to rise. The grass would become shorter and the air more arid. Flint also said the area east of Fort John was the worst for cholera.
He wasn't sure he was right, not to tell her of these things, but he didn't want her to worry. She was so young and he felt guilty for getting her with child so soon, then dragging her away from her family when she probably needed them the most.
Beside him he heard Flint suddenly swear. He blinked and glanced around. The wagons were slowly coming to a stop. Emma had halted her team and was staring with Flint at something ahead and to the left.
With a sudden flutter of excitement Daniel realized he was having a look at his very first wild Indians. There were four of them, nearly naked, sitting bareback on horses decorated with paint and feathers. Their dark skin gleamed in the bright sun. Their heads were shaved except for a palm size tuft of hair about two inches high on the crown of their heads. From the center hung down a long lock of hair, decorated with bits of animal fur and feathers. The whole top half of their foreheads and faces were painted red. Attached to the tufts of hair were long roaches made of horsehair and bits of deer tail fur.
Ian MacGregor and two other men where already riding out to meet them.
"Damn!" Flint muttered under his breath. "Come on Dan, How'd ya like to meet yer first Pawnee?"
"Pawnee?" Daniel asked. "Is that what they're called?"
"Yeah, an' they're pretty fierce warriors. So how 'bout we make certain that them assholes ridin' out to meet 'em don't go gittin' 'em all riled up."
One Indian moved forward, slightly ahead of the others. He held a tall staff in his left hand, decorated with beaded animal hide and long streams of feathers that fluttered in the breeze like a banner. He spoke to MacGregor and handed him a folded piece of paper.
MacGregor opened it and scanned the contents. Suddenly he began to laugh. He passed it to the man beside him who also began to chuckle.
Daniel saw the Indians stiffen and felt a shiver of apprehension. Flint swore again as he skidded his horse up beside one of the men, snatch the paper from his fingers and swing his horse around to stop between MacGregor and the Indians. Daniel halted beside him.
Flint turned angrily toward the delegation from the wagon train. "Whate'er the hell yore laughin' at, stop!" he hissed. MacGregor frowned but quieted.
Flint turned to the Indian and using a combination of hand signs and a guttural language Daniel couldn't understand, talked with him for several minutes.
Daniel was fascinated, both with Flint's ability to communicate with these people of the plains and the men themselves. They sat their horses with confidence. Each warrior, with his chin lifted proudly, radiated strength and power. An aura of nobility surrounded these men that commanded immediate respect. Each was very still. Except for the fluttering of hair and feathers in the warm afternoon breeze. At one with earth and sky, these Pawnee were part of this wild country and Daniel was awed by it.
"This is Shot in the Eye," Flint announced to everyone as he gestured to the oldest Indian in the group. "He speaks fer his band of Skidi Pawnee. An' this," Flint indicated the young warrior who presented the paper to MacGregor, "is Loud Thunder. He's Shot in the Eye's second in command. They say this is Pawnee land. The white men come an' chase away the game. The cattle an' horses eat the grass meant fer the buffalo. They're askin' payment fer these damages."
"Payment?" MacGregor exclaimed. "We ain't payin' these heathens anythin'!"
"That's right!" chimed in a short man beside the wagon master. "This here land ain't owned by nobody, 'specially no savages.
"I don't give a damn what ya think!" Flint snapped. "They want payment an' that's what they're gonna git!"
"You're crazy Flint," argued the third man in the group. Daniel thought his name was Patterson. "These redskins ain't got no use for money. And we need what we got to restock our supplies when we get to Fort John."
"That's right!" MacGregor and the short man chimed in.
"They don't want yer money. They want six beeves."
"Well you just tell them to forget it!" MacGregor argued. "We need those animals. We're not givin' them anythin'. And iffin they wanna fight, we've got more guns and men then they do, so forget it!" The other two nodded in agreement.
Daniel spoke up. "Well I think we should give them what they want." MacGregor scowled at him. Flint gave him a quick wink. Daniel sat up a little straighter. "Well they're right. Our animals are eating all the grass. And we did have to ride pretty far to find game today."
"So what? They have horses; they can find it too. They're just too lazy. They want their food handed to 'em for nothin'." MacGregor was adamant. "Besides, if we give in to 'em, it'll set a precedent for Indians to beg food and who knows what else from e'ery train that comes through here." His supporters agreed.
Flint's voice had a hard edge as he argued for the Pawnee. "We're the ones settin' the precedent. The last train through here promised 'em three beeves, but said the next train through would pay the debt. They give 'em this paper as proof of the bargain."
The bald man laughed. "That paper don't say nothin' 'bout that. You best tell 'em so."
"I ain't sayin' no such thing. They was told that's what the paper said an' that's final."
"You're a fool Flint, if you believe that." MacGregor tugged the corner of his mustache to hide his grin. He couldn't believe the scout was so gullible.
Flint looked poised to hit MacGregor. Instead he passed the paper to Daniel. "Tell me what it says."
Daniel was a little surprised at first then quickly scanned the brief missive. He folded it up and passed it back to Flint. "It says not to give these Indians anything. They are bad and will steal our horses and mules in the middle of the night."
Flint said nothing, just sadly shook his head. Then he turned and spoke to Loud Thunder who was apparently translator for the party.
"What did you tell him?" MacGregor demanded.
"I told him we was gonna pay what they asked. Three beeves fer us an' three fer the last party through."
"What? You know what's in the letter. They're lyin'!"
"Indians do not lie!" Flint stated flatly. "There's no honor in it."
"Honor?" MacGregor snapped disgustedly. "What do these savages know 'bout honor?"
"I reckon more than the white men who lied to 'em an' give 'em this worthless piece of paper. They're deservin' of more respect than that."
"Respect? They're nothin' but a bunch of half naked savages."
Flint stiffened, furious.
Daniel carefully nudged his horse around, presenting his back to the Indians. Then he folded his arms across his chest and faced the men from the wagon train.
MacGregor was angry now. Flint ignored him and continued. "These here men are great warriors. Just look at the honors painted on them horses. Them short lines is each time they counted coup on an enemy. A hand print is fer e'ery man kilt in hand to hand combat. Look how short Shot in the Eye's war lance is. Most of 'em are seven feet long. Think on how close he has to be to his enemies to use it. This here's a man'a great courage. They's men'a honor. Ya don't lie to 'em an' treat 'em like they's a bunch'a young'uns caught betwixt hay an' grass. They ain't mad at us yet, an' iffin yore smart, ya sure as hell will keep it that way."
Flint turned his attention to Daniel. "Go grab a couple'a men ya can trust an' cut out six head. An' make 'em good'uns. No skinny lame animals."
MacGregor opened his mouth to argue, but a piercing glance from Flint closed it. "An' Dan, don't be afraid to use that .38 iffin anyone tries to stop ya."
"Yes sir!" He nodded to Flint then turned and raced the big sorrel back down the line of wagons. He waved to Emma as he passed and ignored everyone else. He took Liam and Michael with him to get the cattle for the Pawnees. He didn't need to use his rifle but he came close a few times.
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