River Otter
Penulis:© WebNovel
Bab 1: Chapter 1
White Stone Hill, Dakota Territory
September 5, 1863
The sun rising over the smoldering village promised a hot day. The sky was clear blue and cloudless, except for the cumulus of black buzzards circling expectantly overhead. Smoke from blazing lodges rode the wind, burning eyes and carrying the acrid smell of gunpowder and the stench of death across the prairie to the coulees and the short, wooded hills where the Dakota warriors had taken refuge. The very air tasted bitter to the tongue. They were tired; their horses, spent. Even the earth beneath their moccasins seemed exhausted.
On the run from the Star Chief Sibley since the battle at Big Mound two moons past, they had stood to fight him again at Dead Buffalo Lake. Now for the span of two suns, they had done battle with another Star Chief called Sully, a relentless warrior who spent his time drawing pictures with pigments soaked in water when he wasn’t killing tribesmen.
Today would bring no respite. The Blue Coats and their thunder guns were still here, hovering like the feathered bone pickers circling overhead. The white army had inflicted a terrible toll on the Dakota. Warriors were accustomed to staring into the face of death, but how could even the bravest stand against big guns that shredded men and horses with bursts of fire and thunder?
Inkpaduta, whom the Americans called Red Cap, a dour, pox-scarred war chief, had led them through these many days of slaughter, fighting with a ferocity born of a deep, implacable hatred of whites. He had a wily mind, vicious fangs, and terrible claws, but Sully had numbers, firepower, and tenacity.
The shelling began again with the booming of cannon and the ear-splitting eruption of hot shells. The fusillade was not so effective now that they had the protection of the gullies and the hills, but Sully would soon be on the move. Their ranks decimated, the Indians withdrew, abandoning food and provisions and leaving their women, children, and wounded to the mercies of the Americans. All was lost now, but at least some of them would live to do battle another day. 1
Teacher’s Mead, Dakota Territory
Spring 1864
A whistle drew me outside where a child’s voice from atop the hollow hill behind the house directed my gaze south. Less than half a mile away, six mounted warriors rode west between the Mead and the near shore of the bloated Yanube River. They were too far away to identify, but they did not have the look of Sioux.
Cuthan joined me on the porch. “I guess we know why the Blue Coat went flying by here. Do you think they’re renegades, Otter?”
An hour earlier, a trooper had passed on the south side of the river, riding hard for Fort Yanube.
“If they are renegades, they’ve thrown away the advantage of surprise, but we’d best get everyone inside.”
I looked toward the near field where six-year-old Alexander stood in the middle of the freshly turned rows. A hand shaded his eyes as he stared at the riders. He caught his father’s wave, dropped the bag of corn seed he was holding, and started for the house. John, younger by a year, shot around the corner of the porch, eyes agog. He’d given us the warning from the hill.
“Do you see them, Pa? Do you see them?”
“We see them, Son,” Cuthan said. “It took sharp eyes to spot those riders in the tree line. You did well.”
Glowing from this praise, the boy self-consciously snatched off his hat and slapped it against his leg to free it of dust, as he’d seen his father do a thousand times.
The warriors had halted and were talking among themselves. After a moment, they headed in our direction at a slow, cautious pace. Each cradled a long gun in his arms.
Cuthan’s wife, Mary, stepped out onto the porch. “What’s happening?”
“Get back inside,” I said sharply. Those warriors should see a family of natives, not a yellow-headed American woman. “Where are the girls?”
“They’re in the house. Oh!” she gasped as she caught sight of the warriors.
“Go inside with your mother,” Cuthan said to the two boys. “Let’s join them, Otter.”
“I want to talk to those men.”
“We can talk through the door.”
“I want to know what’s happening. The best way is to go out and talk like men.” I said.
“I’ll get our rifles.”
“I’ll go alone and unarmed. If anything happens, send Mary and the children through the secret tunnel into the hollow hill. You stay in the house. Fight them off if you have to.”
“I’m not going to let you—”
“Think of your wife and fry and do as I say. I’ll be all right.”
I walked to the barn, trying to appear unhurried. White Patch, anxious for exercise, danced in anticipation as I threw a halter over his long nose. I didn’t bother to saddle the pinto. I would have preferred to greet the strangers in my breechclout, but Mary considered them uncivilized, so I refrained from wearing mine around the Mead. I stripped my white man’s shirt over my head and dropped it in the dirt. Getting rid of the garment made me look more like who I was.
Hadiah
-- Hadiah diterima Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone