“Come on, you sack of bones.” Lester grunted as he turned back around and whipped the horse’s side. “Get your ass moving or we’re both dead.”
Lester knew better than to think his horse could understand him. The horse may not have even been able to hear him over the pounding of its own hooves or the sound of Indians sweeping in on him like a plague of locusts.
Every bit of sense in Lester’s head told him to take a shot at those Indians before they got any closer. If he’d had a gun on him, he might have done that very thing. Even if he had a knife, he was getting desperate enough to turn and throw it at the first feathered head he could find.
Since he didn’t even have anything in his pockets to throw, Lester snapped his reins again and hoped his horse wouldn’t keel over before carrying him far enough away for those savages to lose interest.
Nick used his dented spyglass to watch the Indians ride closer. He knew they’d be coming, since he’d been the one to ride past their village close enough to draw their attention. Just for good measure, he’d kept on riding to the nearby burial ground so that he would lead Kinman or whoever was following him straight through the spot where no paleface should go.
Having ridden through this section of the Badlands several times throughout the years, Nick knew that most anyone heeding the warnings they were given were allowed to change their course without too much trouble.
Anyone who pushed the Sioux further than that deserved whatever they got.
But Nick didn’t see any surprised lawmen when he looked through the spyglass. He didn’t even see Kinman. What he saw was a stranger who looked as if he was about to piss his pants because he was so afraid of the wild-eyed Indians coming his way. More than that, the frightened stranger seemed to be unarmed.
“Aw hell,” Nick muttered.
Since he’d gone through so much trouble to keep himself distanced from anyone that had been following him, Nick studied the surrounding area just to make certain he wasn’t being drawn out. Not only was Nick soon convinced that the stranger was genuinely terrified, but he cursed himself for waiting so long when the man might just be ready to stumble into some serious trouble. So far, the Sioux scouts were only shouting and firing a few warning shots over the stranger’s head. The longer the stranger held his course, however, the madder the scouts became. In no time at all, Nick was certain they’d start aiming their shots just low enough to draw blood.
Nick snapped his reins and got Kazys moving along a path to intercept the stranger. He was careful not to draw his gun. In fact, he rode with his back straight and his arms held at an angle so anyone could readily see that he was only holding the reins in his fists.
As soon as Nick was visible to the Indians, he could hear them yelling back and forth to one another. He knew a bit of the Sioux’s tongue, but not enough to fully understand what they were saying. Nick didn’t need a translator, however, to tell that the scouts weren’t saying much of anything good.
Nick snapped his reins again and tapped his heels against Kazys’s sides. The horse didn’t appreciate the extra prodding, but responded by adding a bit more steam to his strides.
Using a method Barrett had always talked about, Nick continued to keep his back straight and his shoulders squared. He felt like he was doing a poor impersonation of paintings he’d seen of various Indian riders, but Nick kept up the brave front as he came to a stop in the middle of the space between the stranger and the approaching Indians.
For some reason, the stranger tugged on his reins and circled back around to Nick rather than riding on. “What the hell are you doing?” Lester asked breathlessly.
Nick held his hands up and out as he said, “Just don’t make any more sudden moves. Point your nose south and keep riding.”
“But I’m not headed south.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Nick snarled, doing his best to keep his temper from flaring up. “Just go that way and I’ll try to make sure you get away from here in one piece.”
Nick felt as if he was speaking a different language. Lester just wouldn’t follow his directions. As his frustration bubbled to the surface, Nick dropped his hands and gestured to the stranger to get moving.
Unfortunately, Nick’s movements got more of a reaction from the Sioux than from Lester.
One of the Sioux raised a clenched fist, and the others fanned out, immediately surrounding Nick and Lester. A few of them carried bows with arrows already notched and drawn back to be fired. The remaining seven riders brandished rifles decorated with beaded strips of leather, strips of fur and a few long feathers.
“What’s your plan?” Lester whispered.
Nick kept his face passive, but the aggravation was more than clear in his voice. “My plan was to hold them off so you could get away. Since you’re so intent on staying here, maybe you’d like to come up with something else.”
“I…uh…”
“Didn’t think so,” Nick snapped. “What the hell are you doing here anyway?”
After scouring his brain for a suitable lie, the best Lester could come up with was, “Just passing through.”
“And you just happened to be following me?” Nick asked.
Although Lester managed to shake his head, he couldn’t get any words out.
“We can settle that later, I guess,” Nick said. “That is, if either of us is drawing breath once this is over.”
EIGHTEEN
The Indians surrounded Nick and Lester without once taking their eyes off of them. Their dark faces were painted sparsely with a few lines here and there. Feathers and bits of bone rattled from strings and leather straps hanging from armbands, head-bands and rifle barrels. One of the Indians barked out a few words, which fell upon at least one set of ignorant ears.
“What the hell did he just say?” Lester asked.
Nick kept his eyes locked upon the one who’d spoken as he replied, “I’m not sure. Let me try something.” With that, Nick uttered a string of syllables that only made Lester wince.
“You speak their language?” Lester asked.
“We’ll find out in a moment.”
The Indian who’d spoken was of average height and had a lean, powerful build. His face and chest were marked by a few more stripes and symbols than the other riders, whom he commanded with subtle nods or flicks of his hand. After listening to Nick, he seemed to regard him with a bit more interest.
Lester shifted uncomfortably in his saddle and grunted. “Can you get them to—”
“Shut up,” Nick snapped.
The leader of the Indians nodded and glanced away from Lester as if he didn’t mean to look at him again. Now focused completely upon Nick, he spoke in a low, steady voice.
Nick kept his face calm and his eyes leveled at the lead Indian. In some situations, his mannerisms might have seemed threatening or imposing. In this instance, however, Nick was merely giving what he was getting. He showed strength to the Indians and didn’t back away from them, but he also didn’t make a move in the wrong direction.
Although he didn’t understand every word of what the Indians’ leader said, Nick caught enough to have his initial suspicions confirmed. “They’re Sioux,” Nick said to Lester. “They live in that village and don’t like visitors racing through here on their land.”
“Don’t these Injuns know their damn place?” Lester muttered.
A few of the Indians glanced at Lester and tightened their grip on their weapons. Lester noticed this immediately and leaned back in his saddle, while his hand drifted toward the spot where his gun should have been. The fact that his gun wasn’t there didn’t seem to matter. The Indians responded by raising rifles to shoulders and drawing their arrows back, waiting for the order to attack.