Santa Fe Woman (29 page)

She managed to conceal the sobs, but she knew as she lay there underneath the stars overhead that she needed Jesus Christ. She thought of all the invitations she had ignored in church and all the sermons she had paid no heed to, but now she was open, and she knew that God was listening.

Finally she prayed, “I don’t know how to pray—but Lord Jesus come into my heart. I’ll follow You no matter if someone comes to save us or not. Whatever happens I will be obedient to You.”

She prayed like that for a long time, and something like a warmth came to her, not a physical warmth but a sense of inner warmth. She recognized this as peace, and then she began to feel a joy, knowing that God had heard her. She began to thank the Lord God for the first time in her life….

FOUR BEARS RODE HIS horse toward the train at a dead run. He pulled him up, his black eyes gleaming with excitement. “Up there,” he grunted, pointing to the direction from which he had come.

“How many are there?” Rocklin asked.

“Nine. It is Santana. I saw him myself.”

“That’s bad news,” Rocklin murmured. “They’re probably the best of his warriors, too.”

“They’re not the best right now,” Bear grinned. There was a ferocious quality about the Comanche. He had the spirit of battle in him, and his reputation was great among his people.

“Why did it take so long?” Rocklin demanded, his eyes fixed on Four Bears.

“They took time out to go on a raid. I got close enough to hear them talking. They came back with horses and firewater and two captives. They were starting to put the captives to the knife when I left. They’ll be at it for awhile.” He grinned broadly. “They’re drunk though, and we can kill them all.”

“What about my sisters, Bear?” Mark demanded.

Bear shrugged his beefy shoulders. “They are alive.”

“Have they been harmed?”

Four Bears did not answer but turned and fixed his gaze on Rocklin, waiting to hear his decision.

Rocklin’s mind worked quickly. He glanced at Mark saying, “This is good news. If they had made it back to the village, we would have had real problems.”

“But there are nine of them. There are only four of us.”

“They won’t be looking for us, especially if they are drunk,” Rocklin said. Something changed in his expression, and Mark saw a determination that was usually covered by an indolent manner. “This is what we’re going to do….”

* * *

JORI HAD TRIED EVERYTHING she could think of to drown out the sight and the cries of the captives. The Kiowas had staked them out and done horrible things to them. She had heard that the Indians could endure torture silently, but one of the Pawnees could not. His screams had echoed and gone into her like a knife. She had put her arm around Carleen and said, “Cover your ears up. Don’t listen.”

The two of them had sat like that for what seemed like hours. Finally the cries died away, and when Jori eventually gathered up her courage and looked, she saw that both of the men were dead. She could not bear to look at it, but she turned her eyes on Santana. The biggest of the Kiowas, the one called Fox, was arguing with him, and instantly Jori could tell he was asking Santana for permission to take her. Fox’s
eyes came to her continually, and he gestured in her direction with guttural words falling from his lips. Santana did not move, but only his will kept Fox from taking her. Jori well understood that.

Carleen had huddled closer to her. She had endured the horror of the raid better than most adults, but now she buried her face against Jori’s breast and whispered, “I don’t want them to know it, Jori, but I’m afraid.”

At that moment Jori was aware that the encounter she had had with God in the darkness was real. Ordinarily she herself would have been paralyzed with fear, but even though she was still in the presence of death, and her own faith was highly questionable, there was a peace in her that enabled her to say, “God is going to help us.”

“Aren’t you afraid, Jori?”

“I was, but last night I talked to God.”

“Did he promise you we’d get loose?”

“It was nothing like that. It wasn’t so much what he promised me but what I promised him.”

“You promised him something?”

“Yes. I promised him that I would trust him no matter what happened. He’s going to take care of us. I really believe that, and you must believe, too.”

“Let’s both pray then.”

“I think that’s a good thing.” Jori held the girl tightly, and the two of them called upon the God who they were now trusting to deliver them.

* * *

FOUR BEARS HELD UP his hand and put his finger to his lips. He made a motion and slipped off his horse. “We tie horses here and go on foot. They are over there behind those trees.”

As they tied their horses, Rocklin questioned Four Bears about the situation. The Comanche was sure about the number, but Rocklin was bothered. “They’ll have guards out.”

“No, not with whiskey,” Kicking Bird grinned. His eyes were dancing as if he had been invited to a party of some kind.

Mark could not understand it, and he kept his eyes fixed on Rocklin. “How are we going to get them free, Chad?”

“It’ll have to be quick,” Rocklin answered at once. He had been thinking about this all the way on the trail and now had no doubt. “The first thing they’ll do when we hit them is try to kill the girls.”

Mark was alarmed. “Then how will we save them?”

“I’ve got two pistols. Here, take my rifle.” He handed it to Mark. His voice was clear and steady, and, as he studied the man, Mark knew suddenly that this was the element that he himself lacked. They were about to kill human beings, yet Chad Rocklin showed only a determination to get the job done.

“I’m going to go on ahead and creep up as close as I can. All of you take position and get ready. When I get close enough, I’ll kill Santana with the first shot. That’ll leave me one more. As soon as you hear my shot, open up on ’em—and don’t miss. If they have time, they’ll kill Jori and Carleen.”

Mark was struggling with the plan. “You’re just going to kill him without warning—Santana, I mean?”

“That’s what I’m going to do.”

“It’s not civilized.”

“Wake up, Mark.” Rocklin’s voice was rough. “Think what will happen to Jori and Carleen if we don’t save them. You think I can go in and have a debate with them, that I can talk them out of this? They’re drunk, and they want scalps. This is our only chance. If you can’t do it, say so now.”

It was a moment of decision for Mark Hayden. Balanced against him was the life that he had led—soft, easy, and careless. Now he was about to be thrown into a battle in which the lives of his sisters—and, perhaps, his own—were at stake. He saw that the three men were watching him closely, and suddenly anger burned in him. “Don’t worry about me. I won’t miss. Give me your rifle.” He reached out and took the rifle and saw that Rocklin seemed satisfied.

“Good man,” he said. “This will be all right, Mark. We’ll have them back soon.” He nodded and turned to move toward the camp.

“Come. We move in closer,” Kicking Bird said. “We get scalps tonight.”

Four Bears was studying Mark. “You ever kill?”

“No.”

Four Bears suddenly laughed soundlessly. “It is good to kill your enemies. Come, and do not miss!”

* * *

THE INDIANS WERE COMPLETELY drunk now. They were dancing and shouting unearthly cries. From time to time one of them would go over and use his knife on one of the corpses.

Jori was watching Santana and Fox. She had been observing them for some time. Finally it had become clear to her that Fox
was bargaining for her. She could not understand their language, of course, but the Kiowa’s glittering eyes came back constantly, and more than once he gestured to her. He held up several fingers and she guessed that he was offering the war chief horses for her and Carleen.

“What’s he talking about, the big Indian?” Carleen whispered.

“I don’t know, Carleen.” There was no point in alarming the girl. There was nothing she could do about it. Her hope was in Santana although she could not have said why. He had drunk some of the whiskey but not enough to make him wild, as were his warriors. Still, there was somehow a difference in him. At first he had brushed Fox away roughly, but now he was listening, and when Fox held up nine fingers his eyes came over and met those of Jori. Jori held his eyes and saw him smile. He suddenly laughed and took another drink of whiskey from the jug.

He called out, “Now we will see if your Jesus God will save you. You will be Fox’s squaw. Take her, Fox.”

Jori’s blood seemed to freeze as the burly Indian laughed, straightened up, and lifted his arms to the sky giving a wild cry. He turned then and started toward her. He said something in his own language that made the other Indians laugh. Several of them had turned to watch the little drama. Jori moved away from Carleen and could not speak. Fear was outside of her pushing to get in. She saw the lust in the Kiowa’s eyes and knew there was no mercy in the man, but she called out, “Lord Jesus, save me and my sister!”

Santana laughed. “Now we will see if Jesus God is strong.”

Fox laughed also. There was a cruelty in his features and in his expression. He reached out for her, and Jori knew there was no point in running. But before his hands touched her, a shot
rang out, and Jori saw a black hole appear exactly in the center of Fox’s forehead. His eyes opened wide for a moment, and then he began collapsing. His legs seemed to be turned into rubber, and he fell to the ground bonelessly.

Almost instantly Jori saw Santana leap to his feet and make a wild grab for his gun, but immediately shots rang out. The Kiowas were grabbing for weapons now, but at least three of them were on the ground.

Things happened so rapidly she could not understand. She saw that the two Indians and another man had leaped into the area and were hacking at the Indians with tomahawks and knives.

She whirled to see Santana grab a rifle and swing it toward her and pull the trigger. The shot, so close to her, was over her head, and it seemed she could hear the hissing of the bullet. She threw herself to the ground, pulling Carleen with her, and a movement caught her eye. She saw Rocklin appear suddenly. He put himself between her and the Kiowa war chief.

Santana ignored the melee of battle going on around him. He pulled a knife from his belt and called out, “You kill my son, but now you will die! I will die happy, knowing I have killed you!”

Santana lunged forward, the blade held out in a sweeping right and left motion. Jori saw that Rocklin had no gun, but he whipped out the knife that he always carried at his side, and his face was fixed as he faced the charge of the Kiowa. Santana feinted, but when Rocklin moved his knife to catch the blade, he threw himself forward. Rocklin grabbed his wrists and with one swift motion drove the knife in the throat of Santana. A crimson flood burst forth, spraying Rocklin, and a cry was cut short as Santana fell backward.

Rocklin turned, the bloody knife still in his hand and his shirt covered with the blood of the dying Kiowa. “Are you all right, Jori?” he cried out.

“Yes.” Jori could barely speak, and she was aware that the noise of fighting had died down. Suddenly there was the scream of one of the Kiowas who threw himself forward. She saw him rising up behind Rocklin and lifting a club. Jori tried to cry out, but it was too late. The club came down on the top of Rocklin’s head, and he collapsed, falling face forward.

Before Jori could move, Kicking Bird had leaped forward and brought the sharp edge of his tomahawk down. It caught the Kiowa in the head, making an awful sound that she would never forget. The Indian dropped, and then she heard her name being called.

“Jori—Carleen, are you all right?”

Jori turned to see Mark, his face pale as parchment, running toward her. His arms were out, and she fell into them, and Carleen joined them. He held them, and she saw that he was weeping. “We’re all right,” she said. She pulled loose and fell on her knees beside Rocklin. He had been wearing his soft hat, and when she removed it, she saw the terrible wound. The top of his skull was indented, and the bones of his skull were shown whitely.

“Chad—” she cried but could say no more.

Kicking Bird had stooped and ripped the scalp off the Indian who had struck Rocklin. He looked at it with satisfaction, then came forward and looked down. He saw the terrible wound in the top of Rocklin’s skull and shook his head. “He will die, but he died bravely.”

“No, he won’t die!” Jori cried. She held his bloody head to her breast and repeated defiantly, “He won’t die. God, You mustn’t let him die!”

Mark looked down at his sister. He, too, could see the wound and had no hope. He put his hand on her shoulder but could think of nothing to say. He looked down at Carleen and saw that her eyes were wide with shock. Kneeling down, he put his arm around her.

“It’ll be all right, little sister,” he said. But he knew in his heart that it would not.

A RISING FLOOD OF clear and brilliant sunshine touched the prairie, and for a time, it seemed to Kate, the world was bathed in morning’s freshness. She had learned to love this time of day, the “cobwebby time” she sometimes called it, and now she stood peering to the east, longing to see the sign of someone coming. For a long time she stood there watching the gray blades of light slice away at the darkness and glancing up at the stars. She thought that they seemed cold and brilliant and somehow ominous. A strange feeling came to her, and a faint distant memory had its way with her for a moment.

“I guess I could have one of those biscuits if you can spare it.”

Kate turned to look at Leland, who was standing with his tin plate in his hand. He looked worn and tired in the early morning light, and when she gave him another biscuit he nibbled it without much sign of appetite. “I keep thinking I need to go look for them.”

“That wouldn’t do, Leland. What good would you be? You couldn’t track anything more than I could.”

“I know it, but I want to do
something!
”

“We all do, but our job right now is to hold on here.” She moved closer and put her hand on Leland’s arm. “Waiting’s the
hardest thing to do. Always easier to be doing something, but right now we just have to seek God and pray and believe.”