Chapter 5

We were surrounded by eight young braves, all pointing weapons at us.

"Whatever you do, don't touch your guns." Grandpa whispered.

Right after Grandpa whispered that, I heard someone shout, "STOP!"

Thinking 'now we've had it', I had scenes of Indian torture from old movies replaying in my head.

The young braves backed up a step, but didn't lower their weapons, all the while glaring at us with eyes full of hate. When this older Indian walked up, you could tell he was some kind of leader by the way he gave the young braves hell in their own language.

"What do you want here, Hawk?" He asked.

"What's happening here, Red Cloud? Is this any way to welcome family? I've been your friend for over twenty seasons!"

"Why you bring stranger? This troubled time. Strangers not welcome!"

"He's not a stranger! He's family! This is Clay — you called him Dirty Hand when he was just a boy."

"I remember Dirty Hand. Always dirty when play with other boys. What he doing here now?"

"We heard Running Deer was hurt so we come to help."

"Dove is here. She is helping Running Deer."

"Clay is white man's doctor."

"Not see Dirty Hand since boy. How he doctor?"

"He has been in Army and was an Army doctor. He just got home today."

Hearing this caused the braves to get restless once again and they started toward me with malice. Once again Red Cloud started giving them hell in their own language.

"I take you to Dove. You know about trouble with Army?" He asked Grandpa.

"I've heard. We need to talk later."

As we followed him, I quietly asked, "He hasn't said a word to me yet, and why's he call you Hawk?"

"Around these parts, everyone but family calls me 'Hank', but to him it sounds like 'Hawk'. He won't talk to you. You've never given him a present in friendship or traded with him, so by custom you are a stranger. Since he is Chief of all Sioux, he doesn't talk to strangers — it's beneath his dignity."

"But he claimed he knew me as a boy."

"That was as a man to a boy, not as a Chief to a stranger."

"Is that why we brought the trading goods?"

"No, you always bring stuff for presents and to trade. That's just good manners. Also, if you're offered something to eat or as a gift, take it, even if you don't want it, otherwise it's an insult. We don't want the people mad at us, especially now after Custer."

"Anything else I need to know before I get to work?"

"Lots — but for now, just remember I warned ya that the girl that was hurt, Running Deer, and her sister Little Doe, have been chasing Clay since they were kids, claiming someday they would be his wives."

"We better watch out then. I ain't ready to get married anytime soon."

"You could do a lot worse. Marriage was the best thing that ever happened to me," he laughed.

As we followed Red Cloud into a large skin lodge, Grandpa announced, "Dove, do you know who this is?"

A woman in a buckskin dress looked up, puzzled for a few seconds then cried, "CLAY! Is that really you? They told us you were dead!"

"Well, as you can see, I'm not. As I read somewhere, Aunty Dove, 'reports of my demise are premature'."

As we greeted each other, I studied my great grandmother quite closely. She stood about five-foot-six, with a figure that most women in my time would have spent a fortune on cosmetic surgery and all their time in a gym to achieve. I knew she was quite a lot younger than my great grandfather Henry, but she still appeared to be somewhere around thirty-five to forty, probably closer to thirty five, much younger than the forty to forty-five I knew her to be. With long black hair flowing to the bottom of her back with just a bit of gray starting to streak here and there, an amazingly clear complexion and startling, compassionate dark eyes, she was a strikingly beautiful mature woman.

"I'm glad you're here! You remember Running Deer and Little Doe? Running Deer fell and broke her arm real bad and is running a fever. I don't know if she will live, and if she doesn't die, her arm will be crooked and useless."

"Let me see what can be done. Uncle Henry would you get my bag?"

"Sure! Be right back."

While waiting, I looked at the two sisters. 'I'll be damned! TWINS!' I thought.

They were both just tiny things, about an even five foot, probably not weighing even a hundred pounds soaking wet. Running Deer looked sick, her face flushed with fever and her eyes dull with pain. Her sister was obviously worried, her face drawn with care. Still, despite their obvious pain, they were exquisite. Their long black hair, framing angelic heart-shaped faces, hung in gleaming ebony braids more than six inches below their shoulders. From what little I could actually see of their bodies, shrouded in loose buckskin shifts, these exquisite little beauties were perfectly proportioned for their size. What little skin I could see was baby smooth and flawless. Not immune to the attractions of beautiful women, I felt parts of my body lurch at the delightful double vision they presented. Oddly enough, I also felt a tug on my heart.

Grandpa came hurrying back in with the big Corpsman's bag. "Here ya go, Clay!"

"Thanks, Uncle Henry." I start to exam Running Deer.

"This is going to hurt. Bite down on this," I told Running Deer as I gave her a piece of leather to bite down on.

Wishing I had an x-ray, I had to do this the hard way and hope my sense of touch would be enough. I palpated her swollen and extremely painful right forearm, and could feel that her right ulna, the biggest bone in the forearm, was broken. Luck was with me, at least as it felt like a clean break. For it to be such a clean break, she must have wacked her arm across a branch or rock as she fell and she was lucky she didn't break the radius as well. It might be cracked, but at least it was aligned. If not it would be a compound fracture, requiring more sophisticated treatment than I could offer.

The break itself should not be causing her fever. I checked closer and found where she had also scraped her hand as she fell. Red and hot, although not bleeding, it looked like it was infected. Thorough cleaning of the wound and treatment with antibiotics was the only effective treatment, even in my time, except she would be in a hospital getting massive doses of antibiotic by IV. I would have to make do with my limited supplies.

As I completed my examination of her injuries, I turned to Grandpa and said, "I need some wet rawhide thongs to tie on a splint — they will shrink as they dry, holding it in place. I also need four sticks about three-quarters of an inch across and about a foot long for the splint itself. Have someone bring me some clay mud. I'm going to set her arm and try to make a cast to keep it straight and to cover and protect it. I also need someone to boil some water so I can wash that scrape. That's where the fever is coming from."

While waiting for Grandpa to fetch the splint materials, I gave her an amoxicillin tablet and half an aspirin from my bag. I had cut it in half, not knowing if she would have a reaction to it or not. The whole amoxicillin should be OK for her, as it was actually a children's antibiotic and should work well for her, given her size and that she and her people had never been exposed to modern drugs. I knew I would have to keep a close watch on her for awhile, but I risked the dosages I gave her because I had to get the infection under control and her fever broken.