When Zachariah first met up with the Indians, they had been armed only with the traditional weapons of their people; knives, clubs, bows and arrows and lances. Now though, they all seemed to be sporting various guns, including very up-to-date looking cavalry carbines. It struck Zac that these might well have been looted from some battlefield such Little Bighorn. This was a most alarming thought. It was while he was turning over in his mind how he felt about riding shoulder to shoulder with some of those who might have been involved in the massacre of Custer and his men that he realised that something was going on.
Some of the men were looking across to their left and making terse, monosyllabic comments, which of course Zac did not understand. He stared beyond them and saw that there was another party of horsemen, keeping pace with them. He said to Ochtheli, ‘Is something wrong?’
‘It is with those others to say,’ said the young man calmly, ‘We have our business and they have theirs. If they do not trouble us, all will be well.’
But the other riders, a smaller party than their own, evidently did wish to trouble them, for they changed course and began heading in their direction. In fact, they were cowboys, employed by Andrew McDonald. Seeing a bunch of Indians who were not in their proper place, that is to say on the reservation, these fellows had taken it upon themselves to investigate and perhaps send the savages back to where they belonged. They were young men, braggards and hotheads, who had persuaded themselves that it was their duty to tend to this incursion into their own district.
To Zachariah’s consternation, some of those with whom he was riding began unslinging rifles and drawing pistols. They were seemingly quite prepared to give the seven or eight white men whatever they wished. Perhaps the cowboys didn’t grasp the significance of this or thought that they could bluff the others into turning aside, because they began whooping and shouting, as though they were rounding up cattle. It was all a game to them and they were thinking about how they would be able to tell the patrons of the saloon in Benton’s Crossing on the coming Saturday night, how they had single-handedly prevented an Indian attack on their town. It was not to be.
The cowboys rode slightly ahead of the Sioux, presumably trying to head them off. When they were fifty yards away, a couple of the Indians began shooting; without any warnings or other preliminary actions. Zac had vaguely thought that a confrontation of this kind would follow roughly the same course as a tussle between boys in the school-yard. First would come threats and warlike cries, then first one party and then the other would withdraw and only after such a ritual would any fighting commence. This was not at all how the Indian warriors played it. These men were coming close enough to represent a danger and that was sufficient in itself to be the signal for bloodshed. As he watched, two of the white men tumbled from their horses. One fell clear, but the other had a foot tangled still in one stirrup and her was dragged and bounced along behind his panicking horse. It was a terrible thing to behold.
In addition to the two men, a horse had also been hit and this stumbled along for bit before collapsing into a heap and throwing its rider. All this was obviously a lot more than the group of young cowboys had bargained for. The response to their crowding had been so sudden and lethal, that they must have seen that to continue along their present course would like enough end in the death of them all. They were tough enough when dealing with dumb beasts, but coming up against a band of determined and ruthless warriors was more dangerous than they could ever have imagined. The survivors veered off and withdrew to a safe distance; slowing down and then stopping. There were no casualties among the Sioux. Ochtheli gave a cry of sheer, exuberant delight and said in a loud voice to Zac, ‘They didn’t know who they were dealing with!’
As they rode on towards the McDonalds’ place, Zachariah was filled with a sudden foreboding. These men would stick at naught; killing their fellow-beings as casually as he would shoot down a jack-rabbit. Had his Ma called upon more than she had known? Then it struck the youngster that, having lived with these folk for years, she would probably have known just exactly what she was doing. She did not intend for whoever had meddled with her daughter to live to the end of his natural span.
***
Andrew McDonald was looking pale and anxious, for the arrow-wound had still not stopped bleeding. The dressing that his wife had affixed to his backside was now sodden through and the clean pants he had on were already saturated with blood. Josephine said to Melanie Hogan, ‘My husband needs a doctor. He’s like to die, else.’
Melanie shrugged and said indifferently, ‘When my friends come, we’ll be leaving and you and he can do as you will. Until then you just set there, where I can keep a watch on you.’
‘Ain’t you got a human heart?’
‘I wonder you dare ask that of me,’ said Melanie, turning to stare at the other woman with pitiless and cold eyes, ‘You start down the road o’ stealing away folk’s children, this is the reward you reap.’ Josephine McDonald was about to reply, but Melanie said, ‘Hush, now. I hear riders.’
The troop of Indians thundered into the yard outside the McDonalds’ house. Zachariah had thought that this would be the best place to begin the search for his sister; after all, Ma was sure that these were the folks who had spirited her away. He was overjoyed when his mother emerged from the house, although slightly disconcerted to see that she was clutching a rifle. Then a very strange thing happened. Melanie Hogan went up to one of the Indians and began speaking rapidly in what he supposed must be Sioux. His mother had never said anything about learning the Indian language, but now he considered, it made sense if she had indeed lived among them for two years. When she had finished, she came over to Zac and said, ‘Well, you managed all right, son. A couple of these here fellows’ll scout around now and look for the trail of a lone man on horseback. Your sister’s not here.’
It took little time for the men to return and report that somebody had laid for hours in the little spinney overlooking the house. There were further signs that a man bearing a heavy burden had stumbled up the slope to the little rise and that he had then ridden off east. Zachariah, who had not even dismounted, leaned down from the saddle so that his Ma could kiss him. She said, ‘Ride well and be sure to bring back your sister safe and sound.’
After the Indians and her son had departed, Melanie went back into the kitchen of the McDonalds’ house and said, ‘I’ll be leaving now. You two can do as you please.’
‘Thank the Lord,’ said Josephine McDonald, casting an anxious glance at her husband, who was sitting crookedly in a chair and still bleeding heavily, ‘Andrew can’t ride, not in that condition. Will you lend a hand to get the buggy tacked up and ready to go?’
‘No, I don’t reckon so,’ said Melanie in surprise, ‘Why would you think it for a moment?’
‘I’m begging you. Please, as one woman to another. I don’t know if I can do it alone.’
Melanie shrugged and said, ‘It’s no affair of mine.’ Then she gathered up her bow and arrows, ejected the shells from the carbine and laid it on the table. Before she left, she said, ‘You and that man have wrought nothing but evil for me and mine. It’s enough that I’m leaving you with your lives. You tell a soul of what happened to yon scoundrel and I guess folk’ll be asking about my husband’s killing and my daughter. Far as I’m concerned, we’re through.’ She walked to the door and then turned and delivered herself of a few parting words; ‘Unless of course, anything bad has befallen my little girl. In which case, I’ll be back here to kill the pair of you.’ Then she was gone.
***
It was something of a mystery to Zachariah, just how the Indians could tell who had passed where and even what weight the rider had been, but they were seemingly able to do so. If they said that the man who had most likely taken Elizabeth had travelled east along the track, then he for one was perfectly prepared to take their word for it.
Ochtheli was, for an Indian, a lively and talkative kind of fellow. After they had left the McDonalds’ ranch, he said to Zac, ‘Your mother speaks our language like an Indian.’
‘She said she lived with you people for some time. When she was child, you know.’
‘Yes. I met her once before, you know. When I was very small. She came to visit her mother.’
‘Yes, she told me.’
‘She isn’t one I would want to cross with.’
‘No, I guess not.’
The weather was still beautifully fine and if the purpose of the expedition had not been so grim, then Zachariah would have enjoyed a ride out along a road he’d not been down before. As it was though, he kept thinking about those men who had tried to tangle with the Indians and shivered at how readily the Sioux had just shot them down. It dawned on him that these men had almost certainly been mixed up in the war with the army last year and were ready and willing to kill anybody who got in their way or threatened them. He was wondering uneasily what would happen when they caught up with this man who had rode off with Betty. Would they kill him too or, which was even worse, expect him to kill the man?
A good enough horseman he might have been, but the pace set by the Indians was a punishing one. They said that the horse they were tracking had moved mostly at a trot, but sometimes at a canter. That meant that if they wished to overtake it before dusk, they must maintain a steady canter for almost the whole of the time. Their hardy ponies were equal to the task and showed no signs of flagging, even after two hours of more or less continuous cantering, with brief spells of trotting to enable them to catch their breath. Zachariah’s seat was starting to feel a little sore, when they came in sight of a small forest, through which the road went. They reined in before entering the woods. Ochtheli said, ‘This would be a good place for an ambush. We’ll slow down and set the horses walking. Don’t want to let all the world know that we’re coming.’
The track was covered in a thick layer of brown needles from the pines and that, combined with the fact that they were only proceeding at a walk, meant that the whole place was eerily quiet. It was a sharp contrast to the rhythm of rapid hoof-beats which had so far marked their progress across the open country. Later on, Zac had to think carefully to put the events in their right order, because when a lot of things happen one after another, especially in unfamiliar surroundings, there is a tendency to get them all jumbled up in your mind, when remembering what has occurred.
They were almost out of the wood and could see the road stretching out ahead of them towards some undulating grassland, when a faint sound reached their ears. It was the brassy and altogether unmistakeable sound of a bugle call. One of the men called over to Ochtheli, who shouted something back. Then, as clear as could be, Zachariah heard his sister’s voice shouting, ‘Help! Somebody help me!’ And at just the moment that he knew that his sister was alive, nearby and in need of his assistance; Zac saw a troop of blue-coated cavalry appear on the crest of a low hill which the road led to, something less than a mile away. He had already begun to dismount, but seeing the cavalry, he wondered if he should remain with the warriors and not desert them.
Ochtheli’s eyes were shining and he said, ‘That was your sister, no? Go, then. We will deal with this.’ When Zac looked doubtful, the Sioux said, ‘Hurry now, your time is upon you.’ Ever afterwards, the boy was to recollect those words and years later dated the onset of his manhood to that moment. He jumped down and cocked both hammers of the scattergun which his grandmother had given him. Then he made his way cautiously through the trees to where his sister’s voice had come from.
It was shadowy and dark, but up ahead Zac could see some movement. He moved forward carefully, peering see what was going on. It looked to him as though two people were struggling and then he heard a child cry out in distress. Abandoning caution, he ran forward, holding his weapon at high port and found himself in a clearing. His sister was being manhandled by an ill-favoured fellow who was holding her upright with one hand and slapping her with the other. Zachariah lifted the gun to his shoulder and shouted as loud as he could, ‘Hey you! Just let her alone, you hear what I tell you?’ And no sooner had he spoken the words, when there came the sound of gunfire behind him, combined with confused shouting and the thudding of hoofs. He guessed that the soldiers had reached his friends.
Dave Jackson had been sound asleep when he was awoken by Elizabeth calling for help. She had heard voices from the road and figured that this was the best chance she would get to escape from this awful man. She shouted as loud as she could. When Jackson came to and knew what was going on, he was possessed by a great fury and grabbed hold of the little girl. He lifted her up by the rope which bound her and held her against the trunk of a tree. Then he began cuffing her hard around her head. It was when he heard the boy yelling, that Dave Jackson had a premonition of disaster. He turned round and found himself staring down the twin barrels of a scattergun; held by an angry-looking youth whom he calculated was twenty feet from him.
That it was a shotgun he had to deal with and not a rifle, worked in Jackson’s favour, or so he thought. Had it been a rifle, then the young rascal might have loosed off a shot and had a good chance of taking Jackson and missing the girl. As things stood though, at that range the buckshot would spread out and be sure to take the two of them. Quick as you like, Jackson whirled the girl round and held her in front of him to make sure that the kid dare not fire. While he did so, Dave Jackson could hear a regular gun battle developing near at hand. Lord knows what was going on, but it was certainly high time for him to be gone from there.
‘Put down your gun and I’ll let her go,’ said Jackson, ‘Otherwise, I swear I’ll kill her.’ He was trying to hold the struggling child with one hand, so that he could use his other to draw his pistol and take down this impudent youngster, who had the temerity to aim a shotgun at him. Dave Jackson really didn’t take to having a shotgun pointing in his direction in this way. The only difficulty with this plan was that the child was now fighting tooth and nail to get free and it was all he could do, using both hands, to keep her positioned in front of him to shield him from harm. Even if he could hold her with one hand, she was moving about so violently that there was no chance that he would be able to aim steadily. And all the time, he could hear the crash of gunfire from near at hand. Lord only knew what was going on.
It really seemed as though they had reached an impasse, because while the young fellow could not hazard a shot at Jackson; he for his part could not get his gun out and fire at the boy. This standoff was resolved by Elizabeth Hogan who, without any warning at all, twisted her head round and clamped her teeth on Dave Jackson’s bare wrist. She bit down with as much force as she could muster and it felt to Jackson as though a dog had seized him. The shock of the unexpected pain caused him to loosen his grip and, like a young animal, Elizabeth dived free; hurling herself to the ground.
This looked like the opportunity which Dave Jackson had been waiting for and his hand snaked down to his gun, as he glanced up to check where his target was. He knew though in that moment that he was not going to make it. The boy had that shotgun aiming dead at him and the eyes which glittered above the barrel, taking aim, were among the most merciless and hard that Jackson could ever recall. Instinct kept him going though and his hand had actually grasped the hilts of the revolver, before the first shot took him full in the face; shredding his features beyond recognition. Almost at once, the young man lowered his aim and fired the second barrel; this time catching Jackson in the belly.
It is surprising and quite shocking; the amount of damage which can be caused to a human body by a couple of charge of buckshot, fired at close range. Jackson’s head was a featureless, bloody pulp; the face having been altogether obliterated. The force of the second blast had ripped away his shirt and opened a hole in his stomach, from which part of his intestines now protruded. Elizabeth was spared this sight, for she ran at once to embrace her brother. As he clasped her in his arms though, Zachariah Hogan was mesmerised by what he saw and the terrifying knowledge that this carnage was all his work. He was holding Betty to his breast with one arm, his other hand still holding the scattergun. Sickened at what he saw, he hurled it from himself with great force and then, making sure that his sister did not catch so much as a glimpse of the awful vision which had seared itself onto his memory, he led her away from the scene; after first untying the knots which held her.
‘What about his horse?’ asked Elizabeth, ‘It’s tethered over there.’
They went over and freed the horse. Zac noticed that the shooting seemed to have stopped now and there was only the sound of men’s voices shouting. He said to Betty, ‘Listen Sis, we got to be careful. There’s some soldiers down there and if we just appear out of nowhere, maybe they’ll take us for the enemy.’
As they neared the roadway, a lot of men could be seen through the trees, moving about; busily engaged in some task or other. Zac waited until they were within hailing distance, then he took his sister behind a tree and shouted at the top of his voice, ‘Don’t nobody shoot. Me and my little sister need help.’ It was all that he could think of and at least the appeal was not met with a fusillade of fire. Instead, somebody hollered back;
‘Show yourselves, but with your hands raised.’
And so Zachariah Hogan and his sister surrendered themselves to a troop of the US Cavalry who had been heading towards the reservations of Dakota to make sure that those living there were not minded to cause any further trouble, now that the Great Sioux War was officially ended. It took some time to account for their presence in the woods, but they were so young and innocent that in the end it was assumed that they could have had nothing to do with the band of Redskins who had just ambushed the column.
After the two youngsters had come down to the road, being covered warily with rifles by two suspicious troopers, an officer was called over to question them. Before he arrived, Zachariah looked round sadly. Every one of the men he had rode here with was laying dead; along with a dozen cavalrymen. He saw Ochtheli, on his back, with his eyes open and staring sightlessly up at the trees. Those men had given their lives, for what? For the cause of their tribe? Surely not for him; to give him a chance to rescue Betty? Before he had come to satisfactory answer to this question, a young captain came up. He said, ‘What the deuce are you two children doing here? Where have you come from?’
Zac said, truthfully enough, that his sister had been lost and that he had ridden in search of her and here she was. When he had finished speaking, he indicated his sister. The captain looked at her and any thought that there could be any deception or sharp dealing involved here, evaporate at once. Here was, very obviously, a frightened little girl; clinging affectionately to the young fellow who had found her. Captain Marshall said, ‘Well, we’re bound in the first instance for Benton’s Crossing and if that’s of any use to you, then you folk are very welcome to ride along of us. I see you have a mount of your own.’
Zachariah would have liked a few moments alone with the slain Indians, but felt that it would be impolitic to acknowledge that these men were anything to do with him. It was enough that the soldiers were not asking any difficult questions about how his sister had been lost and managed to find her way out here. For that he was truly grateful.