Chapter 1

There is more than one genre that this tale would fit into. I chose novels and novellas because the real story is about people, their interaction with each other and their lives and times.

Thanks for taking the time to read my work. As usual constructive comments and emails are much appreciated and welcome.

James Ambrose Randal was thoughtful as he followed the Indian called Spirit Healer; Jim couldn't pronounce his Indian name. Spirit Healer was the shaman or medicine man of the Lakota Sioux. The medicine man had told him that they were going to a sacred cavern for a ceremony that would adopt Jim into the Lakota tribe. Spirit Healer had explained that the ceremony was requested by Tatanka Maza, or Iron Buffalo, the chief of the Lakota Sioux; Iron Buffalo was also Jim's father in law.

He'd never felt comfortable around his father in law. The older man didn't like the fact that his daughter chose to marry and have children with a white man. But it's more than that, Jim thought. The fact that my ranch used to be Lakota land probably has something to do with the barely concealed dislike, maybe even hatred, which Iron Buffalo has for me.

It was 1890 and the ranch had been in Jim's family for better than 60 years. Jim had inherited the ranch, named Eagle's Nest, from his father, who had inherited from his father, who had inherited it from his father. Jim's great grandfather, Ambrose Randal, had settled the land and fought off the Lakota, Cheyenne dog solders, rustlers, and Mother Nature to keep it.

Lately Jim and Iron Buffalo had become closer, almost friends. Although a bit surprised at the invitation from his father in law, Jim agreed to accompany the shaman to the secret cavern. The cave was in the rock buttes that rose from the valley floor behind Jim's ranch house.

Jim had met Chante, his wife and Iron Buffalo's daughter, just over a year earlier. He had stopped at a small trading post to pick up a few supplies on the way back to his ranch. As he came out of the post he saw three men attacking two Indians, trying to steal their furs. Two of the men were fighting with the brave, who looked to be about 16, and the other one was trying to control a young woman. She appeared to be a couple of years older. The men were dirty and greasy looking, apparently down on their luck trappers.

We've still got enough Indian trouble around here without these three making it worse, Jim thought. Just then the man scuffling with the girl backhanded her, knocking her to the ground, and started kicking her. Why'd you have to go and do that Jim asked silently?

Jim quickly closed with the three ruffians. Before he could get there the young brave moaned and slumped to the ground. "That's about enough," Jim ordered as he leveled his Winchester at them.

The men stopped and turned toward Jim. One of them held a bloody knife and he asked, "You an Indian lover boy?" The trapper standing behind the other two moved his hand down to the pistol stuck in his belt.

"If you pull that hog leg, I'll kill you Mister," Jim said in a threatening voice. "It don't make a difference what I am because you boys are leaving. Get on your horses and ride."

The trappers stood for a few seconds and then moved toward their horses. Jim watched them until they rode out of sight on the far side of the clearing. Turning, Jim saw the girl kneeling by the young man. There was blood on the boy's shirt and he was unconscious. Hurrying to the youngster Jim pulled up the boy's shirt; there was a stab wound with a long gash just under the ribs.

Guess the knife slid before it went in, Jim thought. He stood, ran to his horse, and grabbed his saddle bags. When he got back to the injured boy, he quickly worked to stop the bleeding. Jim bandaged the wound, stood, and turned to the girl. She had a large bruise on the side of her face where the trapper had hit her. He began using sign language trying to find out where their camp was.

"I speak your language," the young woman said. "Our camp is beyond Red Mountain. Help me get him on his horse.

"Red Mountain is a full day's hard ride," Jim replied. "If he has to travel that far he'll bleed to death." Jim hesitated for a minute. "My place is about an hour away; let's take him there. I can tend to him better at my house and then I can go fetch your people.

"I will go for my father."

"You need to stay with, what's his name anyway?"

"He is my brother Chayton," the girl replied. "I am Chante."

"I'm Jim Randal."

For the first time, Chante looked closely at the man that had helped them. She saw a dark haired, wide shouldered, young man with a streak of white hair over his right ear; very strange she thought. He has kind eyes but there was death in them when he faced our attackers. I think this man can be trusted, Chante said to herself.

"We will go with you Jim Randal."

Jim cut some lodge pole pines and made a travois to carry Chayton. "This will be a lot easier on the boy," he explained to Chante.

It was a little over an hour and a half when Jim stopped the horses in front of his ranch house. They got Chayton into the house and laid him on the big kitchen table. Jim had the girl put the horses in the corral; he would take care of them later.

Jim cleaned the wound again and applied some coal oil to it. He got a needle and some silk thread from a sewing kit and began to sew the wound closed.

Chante watched for a minute and asked, "What are you doing? And what is that you're putting on him?"

Jim explained that the coal oil would keep the cut from getting infected. He told her the wound will heal much faster with the stitching and probably not give Chayton any trouble once it did heal. Chayton winced each time the needle was pushed through his skin but he made no noise. When he finished the stitching, Jim again used coal oil to wash the area. He tore up a sheet and put a fresh bandage on the wound.

Chante had watched Jim as he worked on her brother and then helped him get Chayton into a bedroom; Chayton passed out again as soon as he was in bed. Jim motioned for Chante to follow him and returned to the kitchen.

"Now, let's have a look at your face," he said. Jim went out back of the house and used the hand pump to fill a wash basin with water. The water was from an underground spring and was very cold. He wet a small towel and put the cool cloth on her face.

"I'll head for your camp in the morning," Jim told Chante. I'll leave at sunup and hopefully be back before sundown. You can stay with Chayton and change his bandages if need be." Jim paused for a few seconds and added, "I just hope Iron Buffalo and his braves don't kill me when I ride into the camp," Jim told her.

Chante held up her hand saying, "Wait."

She walked down to the corral and got a blanket that was tied to the rear of her saddle. Coming back into the house she handed it to Jim. "Ride with this blanket spread over the saddle in front of you or around your shoulders when you ride into the camp. It will tell my people that you are protected by me. But keep your hands away from your weapons."

"How will this blanket keep your father and his men from attacking me?" Jim asked, not understanding why the Indians would recognize it.

"My father is Tatanka Maza, Iron Buffalo, in your language. He is chief of the Lakota Sioux. The blanket was a gift from him, to protect me. It will do the same for you and give you a chance to talk to him."

He wasn't really sure about the blanket protecting him but felt he had to take the chance. If Chayton died because a white trapper stabbed him, Iron Buffalo could go on the warpath. If that happened he would raid every white ranch and settlement in the area for revenge.

At first light Jim mounted his big black stallion Sampson and rode toward the Indian camp. He pushed the horse hard. Jim wanted to get to the Indian camp well before dark while they could see Chante's blanket. He rode for about 30 minutes at a ground eating cantor and slowed Sampson to a trot to let him rest some.

Looking to his left he saw two riders on a small hill flanking him. Turning his head he saw two more on his right. The riders closed to within a fifty yards but then maintained that distance. Jim could see that they were Indians: Lakota Sioux. And they've got me boxed in, Jim thought as he saw four riders move in behind him. He pulled his rifle and braced it on his hip as two more appeared over a rise about 50 feet in front of him. It's all well and good for Chante to say keep my hands away from my guns, but I think I'll be prepared just the same.

Jim stopped Sampson and waited to see what the Lakota braves would do. The two in the front rode closer stopping about 20 feet away. As the other riders started to close in, Jim held up Chante's blanket on his extended left arm. The older of the two facing him gave an order and the Indians stopped.

The Indian was wearing an eagle feather headdress, called a war bonnet, and his face was painted. He had two red strips on each side of his face running from his ears across and down to the corner of his mouth. Jim knew that the headdress and death mask was only worn when a battle or a major raid was planned. This has to be Iron Buffalo, Jim said to himself.

"Where did you get the blanket, white man? Did you steal it?"

Jim was surprised that the Chief spoke English. "Your daughter gave it to me Tatanka Maza," he replied.

Iron Buffalo was impressed that this man knew who he was. "Why would Chante give a treasured possession to an enemy? Where is she?" Iron Buffalo was angry. He hated white men and only the presence of the blanket and tradition kept him from killing this one.

"Chante is at my lodge," Jim answered. He saw Iron Buffalo tense and saw his face turning red. "Chayton and Chante were injured," he quickly said. "I tended to Chayton and took him to my place. He would have never made the ride back to your camp."

Iron Buffalo looked closely at the young man in front of him. "How badly were my children hurt and how were they hurt?"

Jim knew that Chayton and Chante would tell their father what happened. He was worried about Iron Buffalo's actions when he learned his children had been attacked by three white trappers.

"Chayton was stabbed and Chante was hit in the face, but I think they'll be okay." Jim paused. Then he added, "Three trappers tried to steal their pelts at the trading post. I stopped them and they have been punished." Jim lied hoping that Iron Buffalo wouldn't decide to take revenge on any of the white settlers in the area.

Iron Buffalo called out an order to his men and four of them rode off at a high gallop toward the trading post. I sure hope those boys moved on, Jim thought. They're scum but I'd hate to see them scalped or tied spread eagle on an ant hill.

"Take me to Chayton," Iron Buffalo ordered.

Jim nodded and turned Sampson back toward his ranch. The Indians that had been behind him moved aside leaving a lane for him to ride through. I've got five Lakota braves and an angry war chief following me home, Jim thought. Not really the way I wanted to spend my day. He kicked Sampson into a cantor. If they want to follow me they can follow at my pace.

Chante came out of the house when she heard the horses. She stepped down from the raised front porch and greeted her father in their language.

Iron Buffalo looked upset and asked a couple of questions. She answered him and then pointed to her side indicating where Chayton had been stabbed. Then she pointed at Jim and spoke for a long time. Iron Buffalo looked at Jim and motioned Chante toward the house. She led him into the building and to the bedroom to see Chayton. The other man that had been riding with Iron Buffalo joined them.

Jim waited on the porch; the braves dismounted and stood by their horses. Shortly Iron Buffalo stepped outside with Chante and the other brave following him. The Chief was talking to his daughter. Jim didn't understand Lakota but he knew that Iron Buffalo was very angry. He motioned for two of his braves to enter the house.

Suddenly Jim realized that they were going to get Chayton. He stepped in front of the braves and turned to Iron Buffalo. "If you move him now, he'll bleed to death. Let him stay here. I'll take care of him and you can come get him in six or seven days." Jim was almost pleading with him.

Iron Buffalo stared at Jim for almost a minute. He turned to the man that went to see Chayton with him. "What do you think, Spirit Healer?"

Chante softly whispered to Jim, "Spirit Healer is the Lakota shaman."

Spirit Healer was no fool. If they took Chayton with them and he died, Spirit Healer would be blamed. His magic would have been too weak to save the boy. But if we let the boy stay here I can blame the white man if he dies, he thought. Later, even if Chayton dies on the way to our camp, I can say this white man put a curse on him.

"I have blessed your son and now he should recover from his wound. Let him stay until he is strong enough to return to our camp," Spirit Healer replied.

Iron Buffalo hesitated. Turning to Jim he said, "Take care of my son, I will return in six days." Turning to the girl he said, "Come Chante."

"I will stay with Chayton," she replied. Her father stared at her, surprised that she would disobey him.

"Randal doesn't speak Lakota," she said pointing to Jim. "And Chayton doesn't speak his language. It would be better if I stayed and nursed Chayton."

Iron Buffalo stared at his daughter for a bit and then barked orders at his men. To Jim he said, "When I return it would be a good thing if my son is well; it would be a bad thing, for you, if he is not."

The Indians mounted their horses and rode away. Jim watched them ride away. He turned to Chante, "I thought your father was going to have a fit."

"Have a fit?"

"I thought he was going to yell and force you to go with him," Jim explained.

"It is the first time I have ever disobeyed him," she replied. It was obvious that the confrontation with her father bothered her.

Jim hesitated for a few seconds and changed the subject. "Well ... that buckskin dress you're wearing has a lot of blood on it. C'mon I'll get you some of my clothes to wear and we can wash it out."

Jim had to laugh when he saw Chante in his clothes. She was wearing a pair of Jim's pants, cinched at the waist with a piece of rope. She also wore one of his shirts buttoned all the way to her throat. Jim was 6 feet 2 and broad in the shoulders and Chante was about 5 feet 6; the shirt hung on her almost like a dress.

For the next five days, Jim and Chante took care of Chayton. Jim cooked their meals on his wood stove and Chante quickly learned to cook on it. She was fascinated by the water pump behind the house. Jim watched her pump water then she would bend over and look up the spout of the pump.