Way Down South, Almost
Chapter 11

Copyright© 2014 by Pappy

I was not expecting a hand grabbing my pistol and another hitting away her knife, but I’m sure glad that happened.

I felt the gun move. It moved all right, just there was no recoil, smoke or blast. She was so close I could not have missed her, yet I found my aim now so far down and to the right that prairie scrub or a local bush might have been my next target. That or the hand placed where the hammer should have discharged the bullet might have been a better reason. ‘Ghost Bear’ seemed to have thought the webbing on his hand made a good place for the hammer though.

He Who Laughs Loud wanted to get into the act as well. He was holding Princesses hand with her knife in it and she was biting and clawing for his release.

I don’t know if it was guilt, or loyalty or some Indian thing but flights of arrows began to soar overhead even more. These were not just where those Ghosts were, they flew all over.

Ghost Bear’s (Same as Brave Bear) head nod drew my attention to a sea of Red bodies. From the war paint and looks on their faces them Kiowa were not pleased to have come to the party late. I relaxed my grip. While Ghost Bear sighed something that sounded like, ‘Ahh.’ I told Princess that the ‘Cavalry’ had arrived ... Indian Cavalry, this time.

The Kiowa had arrived. I liked them all the more than even the white man’s cavalry! These boys didn’t even need horses. Ghost Bear and He Who Laughs Loud both looked me in the eyes, then took a deep breath. Soaring Eagle still had not recognized that ‘the good guys’ had spelled us, she was still trying to end it all.

The four of us sat back and could only watch as though some kind of dream was being enacted.

Remember what I said that bows and arrows were also useful; well, combined with those dogs, a dozen long range rifles and the covering fire can you spell ‘decimated?’ Because after a few minutes there were very few ‘OPFOR’ units left. What were left were wounded or playing dead. Those new troops changed the ‘playing’ moniker to a more certain condition.

One hundred eighty-eight women and children were found in the camp. It took a while before the realization that they were not going to merely change from being a Crow or Pawnee slave to a Kiowa slave took hold. Seeing Soaring Eagle soon made that very clear to them. There was some, at least, of her people still alive. Over 1,500 had been killed or were missing, though.

Something was said, I did not understand it, but she did and stopped her struggling. She then said something I did understand, ‘sicepansi’. I just might be meeting Crazy Horse, which would not be my first choice for a savior but a drowning man will board any ship in a storm. I could think of nothing better for Soaring Eagle though.

‘Hell’ I thought, ‘can’t hurt any more.’

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