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Two Eagles smiled when he recalled the day he had received the scar beneath his lower lip . . . on a youthful outing with Proud Wind.
It was Two Eagles’s deep desire to help Proud Wind by attacking the fort, for there was something there he wanted to rescue for his friend: the head of Proud Wind’s beloved father. He had been told this grisly trophy was kept in a jar in Colonel Creighton’s study.
Ho, yes, it had been his plan to attack the fort, and soon. It would be easier to overwhelm the fort now that only a few soldiers remained. The others had left Fort Hope for their new post in Arizona.
But now things had changed, and Two Eagles wondered why the white eyes would return his uncle to the village.
Was it a trick?
Were they bringing his uncle back, only to kill him in front of his people? Would they then kill everyone else?
Thinking of this possibility, Two Eagles hurried back inside the council house. He quickly explained about his uncle being brought home, and how.
“I am glad my uncle is alive and is almost home, but there is much about this occurrence that does not seem right,” he said tightly. “I believe it is being done for only one reason . . . to trick us. The pony soldiers might be planning a massacre of our people after releasing my uncle to us. Looah, go! My warriors, hurry to your lodges. Stay there. Arm yourselves well and be ready to fight if an attack is launched against our people.”
“And what of you?” Gray Bear asked, rising quickly along with the others.
“I, alone, will stand openly as I await my uncle’s return,” Two Eagles said thickly. “I will leave my weapons in my lodge so that it will look as though I am no threat to the pony soldiers. I do not want to do anything that might antagonize those who are bringing my uncle back. It is still possible that no attack is planned against our Wichita people.”
“But you will be vulnerable without a weapon,” said another warrior, who loved his chief so much he did not wish to see him take such a chance.
“For my uncle I must do this,” Two Eagles said. “For our people I must do this. The pony soldiers speak too often with forked tongues. Today, who is to say what their true purpose may be? Ho, I will feel naked without a weapon, but I have no other choice but to act so.”
He nodded toward the entrance flap. “Looah, go, quickly,” he said. “Wissgutts, go home. You must be in your own personal lodges before the pony soldiers get close enough to see you go there. They must be the ones who are surprised if they try anything against us.”
His warriors nodded almost in unison, then left the council house at a run.
Two Eagles removed the knife that was sheathed at his waist, the only weapon he had with him during council. His lethal arrows and his great, strong bow were in his personal lodge, as were his rifle and ammunition.
With pride in his steps, his chin held high, Two Eagles left the council house and walked to the edge of the village. He would be the first person the soldiers saw when they got close enough to identify people.
He stood straight and tall beneath the burning rays of the sun. The day was unusually hot for this time of year. Normally the temperature was mild enough so that fires were left burning day and night.
Two Eagles wondered if the pony soldiers had deliberately chosen this stifling day to bring his uncle home, perhaps thinking he would not survive the journey.
But they did not know the constitution of such a man as his uncle. Short Robe was brave and strong, a warrior who would bear much to prove that he could withstand anything the white men chose to do to him.
Two Eagles kept his eyes directed straight ahead, aware now of the muffled sound of horses’ hooves striking thick prairie grass as they came closer and closer to the village.
Ah, but Two Eagles did feel naked without a weapon to defend himself. Still, he knew that what he was doing was right. He would do nothing to antagonize the soldiers who were bringing his uncle back.
As he stood there gazing out at the land, he felt so proud of his people . . . of his village, which was surrounded by fields of corn, beans, squash, and other plants the women had lovingly planted.
Two Eagles loved the high, rolling prairie and the sandy river bottoms and banks that were a part of his people’s land. Clusters of scrub oak with heavier timber of elm, cottonwood, and willow stood along the water courses.
The Great Spirit, Tirawahut, had been good to the Eagle band of Wichita. Their crops had grown well, and there was plenty to feed their people.
As Two Eagles continued to wait and watch, his heart pounded with worry over whether his uncle was alright.
Short Robe was Two Eagles’s only remaining blood kin. All the others had been killed by whites, or by their enemy the Sioux, or had died of natural causes.
His mother and sister had been killed together while working in the cornfields. They had been alone that day, instead of with the usual larger group that kept the women safe.
Two Eagles knew not who was responsible.
And then there was his cousin Spotted Bear, whom he missed terribly. He had died one day a summer ago in a skirmish with the Sioux.
When Two Eagles had heard about the fateful ambush of Spotted Bear and his warriors, and that Spotted Bear had died, he had gone to retrieve Spotted Bear’s body for burial, but to no avail. No body had been found, yet the bloody ground attested to his death.
