Chapter 71: Pawnee Territory

I was headed east toward Fort Atkinson. I wasn’t trying to make in a day; I’d much rather overnight and arrive early in the day, with time to get my bearings tomorrow before knocking on the door. So I was riding easy in the saddle. My mood transferred to all of my mounts, and my hound, as well. It was mid-May and the weather was spring pleasant. We were all just ambling along. It was like we didn’t have a care in the world or anyplace we needed to be.

I reflected back on my conversation that morning with Petalesharo. He had been highly amused by the antics of his young charges, particularly their complete and total failure to perform their duty. Apparently they had failed to waken themselves for the raid on my camp and, when he woke them, they were stumbling and only semi-coherent. Ah, the effects of whiskey on the uninitiated.

Pete had let the boys plan and execute the raid. In their silly state they had forgotten a couple of important things. Primarily, they forgot about Brin, but they also forgot that I knew that they were coming. Brin gave them a proper wake-up call. We shared a good laugh over that. Pete said was running the boys today to teach them the error of drinking whiskey when on a mission. That made me smile and reminded me of the same sort of lesson being taught to us in the Marines. Gawd, that had been an awful day!

As we parted, Petalesharo asked about the “light of the sun” that the boys were talking about. I simply smiled and said,. “Magic.” Then I turned and headed out.

I was keeping an eye out for rabbits, chickens, or pheasants to supplement my dinner. The chicken I was served the night before had been pretty amazing and given me some new ideas. The trail I was following was in and out of the brush along the Platte; it was great territory to hunt small game. I kept my shotgun in my right hand, resting over the pommel with one barrel cocked and half my mind focused on my surroundings. The other half was off day-dreaming somewhere.

So, just like a big old twentieth-century American, feeling all secure and safe in his surroundings, I rode right into an ambush. I needed to find better ways to meet new people.

I rounded a little blind bend in the trail and came face to face with two fellas standing on the trail in front of me. They didn’t look like nice people at that very moment, not with the guy on the left aiming a musket directly at me and the fella on the right barking demands in a language I didn’t understand. I heard a low growl from Brin and knew someone was behind me as well. So much for the idea of ambling along in the sunshine.

Pete had given me a totem, or something to that effect. Basically, it was a small strip of leather with a few feathers hanging off of it and some symbols painted on it. He said it would let other Pawnee know that I was a friend as I passed through their lands. So I showed that totem to the loudmouth on the right hoping to calm the waters and it didn’t seem to help. Apparently these weren’t friends of the Pawnee.