Time slows and then stops. Worry, doubt, hope and fear all fall away from my mind, leaving me with one terrible, clear certainty. In this place, at this time, I will die. Here on the hilltop, alone, surrounded by enemies, I will die. My heartbeat roars in my ears. I grip the sharp edges of the flint spearhead hidden in my hand, coiling myself to explode from my kneeling position. In a second, Dakota will drop his hand toward his gun. I will strike upward, howling and rip his throat open. His hot blood will spurt out. Maybe I will be able to seize his gun in the seconds before the others react. Maybe not. Either way, the others will blast away at me until my body is shot to pieces. I will die today, but I will not die alone.
The sky is bright with a few wispy clouds. From the hilltop I can see rolling green hills and a clear unlimited horizon. The prairie flowers have erupted into crimson, yellow, orange and blue. They sweeten the air. I smell smoke from the fire and the sweat of horses. I can hear a stream tumbling down the hillside. It is this image, etched into my brain that I will carry into eternity.
Someone lands on my back followed quickly by another person. The laughter of children dissolves the memory and brings me back to the present. I struggle back into being civilized like a man forcing himself into a nightshirt too small for him.
“Got you!” shouted Joshua. “Admit it. You didn’t hear us sneaking up on you until we pounced.”
“If we were Indians we would have captured you,” said Amy.
I stood up with the laughing children hanging on me. Joshua was my son. I had a private dream that Amy would be my daughter, if I ever got up the courage to ask her mother to marry me, and if I her mother was foolish enough to accept. I bent down again and they slid off.
“That was very good,” I said. “I didn’t hear a thing. You kept out of my line of sight and approached down wind so I couldn’t hear or smell you. I got caught up in a memory of what happened here several years ago. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“What did happen here, Pa?” asked Joshua. “You were a hundred miles away in your thoughts.”
“Wait!” commanded Amy. “Mr. Miller, Joshua says knowing about flowers could save my life someday. That can’t be true, can it?”
I answered, “When Joshua tells you something that you don’t know, he rubs it in. It’s not fair. He’s lived here most of his life, and you just arrived. If we were back in Boston, you would be the teacher and he would be the student. On the other hand, I’ve not heard him lie to you about anything and he’s gentler about it than most would be.”
Amy said, “When I first got here, he let me lead him into the prairie and then he asked me to show the way back. He let me walk in circles for a long time. Home was just over the hill.”
“You know the Walker boys would have led you into the prairie and run off leaving you alone, lost and crying. Joshua wanted to show you that you have to pay close attention to the lay of the land to keep from getting lost. There are no roads on the prairie. If you find a trail, you don’t know if it will lead to the next farm or if it will fade away in the middle of nowhere. So many places hereabouts look alike that even people who have lived here for a long time can easily get lost. Joshua stayed with you and you learned a survival lesson. You’re getting to be as fast as he is and nearly as strong. I have the feeling that pretty soon you will be better than he is at a lot of things. We’ll see how you act when the shoe is on the other foot.”
Amy stuck her tongue out at Joshua. One of the things I liked about her was that she would not be buffaloed.
“Knowing about flowers can save your life. It certainly saved mine. Let me tell you about what happened here.” I swallowed and continued. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for some time.”
I was out gathering herbs for medicine on a day like this one, but later in the summer, when the men came upon me at this very spot. They emerged from the trees as silently as deer. I knew I was in trouble. There were eight of them riding tired but well-muscled horses. They were well armed, unshaven and caked with dirt from unceasing travel. Several had bloodied swathes of cloth wrapped around wounds. Riding far off the trails, they did not expect to meet anyone and they stared at me grimly, clearly not pleased to see me. My rifle was slung over my back by a strap. I had a small knife in my hand that I used to dig up roots and harvest plants.
Most of the men were young. Marauders usually don’t live long. One man, older than the rest, with gray in his hair asked, “What are you doing here?”
“Gathering herbs for medicine.” I held up the root I had been cleaning.
He pointed to my horse, hitched to a tree. “Is that swayback yours?”
“He is. He gets me where I want to go …eventually.”
The other men laughed. All but one, that is. A dark-skinned, blue-eyed handsome young man, not much older than Joshua is now, urged his horse forward and drew a pistol.
“Hold off, Dakota,” said the older man.
“He’s seen us, Lee,” said Dakota. “I don’t like witnesses.”
Lee said, “I don’t like shooting when we don’t know who’s around to hear it. Anybody who comes to see why shots were fired is going to find our trail. We’ve worked too hard to cover our tracks to throw that away by foolishness.”
Dakota turned to face Lee. “Who are you calling a fool?” Dakota stared at Lee as unblinking as a snake. Lee looked back without showing concern, but I sensed he was uneasy. At a guess, I would have said that the tension between them had been building for some time.
A bearded man dressed in rags said, “Dakota, you’ve been bragging about your knife fighting. Why don’t you shuck them pistols and go after him afoot? We ain’t had no entertainment for weeks.” Several men voiced their approval and spurred their horses forward making a semicircle. They joked and smiled. Someone called out a bet on Dakota. Another man bet on me. Some men encouraged Dakota while others taunted him. I leaned my rifle against a tree. Lee said nothing. I wondered if he wanted me to kill Dakota or if he wanted Dakota to kill me. Then the biggest man I ever saw came riding up, leading what I took at first glance for a packhorse. He had black hair and eyes, a flattened nose and a half grown out beard.
“What’s goin’ on here?” the big man asked.
The bearded man chuckled. “We’re about to see if Dakota can skin him an herbalist or if he’s gonna’ get himself skinned.”
“An herbalist?” the big man asked. He looked at me. “Are you a doctor?”
“No, I’m a farmer, but I’ve done my share of doctoring.”
“My name is David. I’d like you to take a look at my brother, Jonathon. He’s in a bad way.” David looked at Dakota. “You can fight him after you come through me.” Dakota spat and turned away. The other men drifted off. What I had initially taken for a packhorse load, turned out to be a slender, young blond man who was slumped over and tied to his saddle. David untied him and lifted him tenderly to the ground.
Jonathon was obviously in bad shape. He looked way too young to be with this wolf pack, his face not showing even a hint of whiskers. His skin was pale and slick with sweat. His breathing was shallow. He was unconscious. When I peeled away his shirt, I found that a bandage wrapped around his upper arm was soaked with blood. There was a bullet crease along the side of his abdomen, but that was scabbed over nicely. Removing his breeches, I found that his left thigh had been shot through. The bandage there was also soaked with blood.
“How is he?” asked David.
“Not good.” I trickled some water from my canteen into Jonathan’s mouth and he swallowed it.
“Will he die?”
“I don’t know. I’ve seen men hurt worse who survived and men not hurt as badly who died. The bullets that went through him didn’t hit any arteries or shatter any bones. Otherwise he’d be dead already. But bouncing on the horse has kept the wounds open. He could bleed out like a butchered hog. I know he’s tough because he’s still alive. If you keep him still, he has a chance to live. If you keep him moving, he will die.”
David said, “Lee won’t split money from the job until we get to where we’re going.”
I said, “You can ride on with the rest and I’ll take care of your brother.”
Lee spoke from behind us. Obviously he’d been listening the whole time. “Sorry, David, I can’t allow that. The local sheriff would hear about a man shot up like Jonathon is. The law would be on our trail again. We’ve had fresh horses three times now so if the posse is still looking for us they’re at least five or six days behind us. Nobody hereabouts is looking for us. I won’t give up that advantage.”
Lee paused. “Tell you what I’ll do, though. The men and animals need a rest. We can stop for a day or so, have the farmer tend our wounds, and scout out fresh mounts. We’ll see how your brother does with some rest and doctoring.”
Lee looked at me. “I don’t suppose you’d tell us where we could find good horses around here.”
I said nothing.
Lee said, “I didn’t think so.”
Lee organized camp, picking out places where a man could see all approaches and setting a schedule for guard duty. He set some men to dig a latrine and others to clear away brush from under a tall tree. Smoke from a fire lit there would disperse through the branches. Dakota did not object when Lee assigned him to picket the horses. I waited until Lee had everyone working before approaching him.
“I’m going to need to gather more herbs to tend to your wounded. If someone could start heating water in a couple of pots while I’m gone, that would help.”
Lee asked, “What else do you need?”
“Rolls of cloth. Pots and pans. Empty bottles if you’ve got them and whatever medicine your men carry.” I thought for a moment. “Some whiskey if you’ve got any.”
Lee raised his eyebrows.
“Not for me to drink. It can cut the bitter taste of herbs. Men who won’t swallow medicine by itself will drink it in whiskey.”
Lee searched me for weapons. He allowed me my knife. He assigned David to watch me and carry for me, knowing he would not let me out of his sight. Most of what I needed grew by stream banks. Other plants I collected needed open space to thrive.
“How do you know about plants?” David asked.
“I’m a farmer. I’ve learned to tell whether shoots coming up are weeds or crops. My friend, Spotted Calf, showed me the plants his tribe uses. Indians have been on this land for a long time. They know a lot that we don’t. Consider this plant with a long stem and a single flower. It grows in dry sunny spots. The flower has an orange ball and purple petals grow down from the ball like a lady’s parasol. It’s called a coneflower. Indians use it to treat hard-to-heal wounds and breathing problems. Most White folks think it’s just a weed.”
I harvested the flower.
“I also helped Doc Bradley during the fever outbreak. He uses plants as well as medicine from back east. He insists that keeping wounds clean and boiling bandages before using them saves lives. I’ve heard other doctors call him a fool, but when their wives and children get sick, they send for him.”
“My brother made friends with the Indians back home,” said David. “He was always off hunting with them or doing some fool thing.”
“He might be interested in this,” I said pointing. I gingerly dug a piece of flint out of the mud. “See, it’s been shaped around the sides and the point. Indians have been coming here for hundreds of years to make arrowheads and spearheads. I don’t know when this was started but its sharp enough to pierce a buffalo hide. It’s too big to be an arrowhead, it must have been intended for a spear.”
David said, “Can we take it back to show him?”
“Sure thing.” I cleaned the mud from the spearhead in the stream, taking care not to cut myself and slipped it into one of the sacks.
Back in camp, we found that a low fire of dried wood was burning. I noted with approval that two coffee pots half full of water sat on the embers. Other pots and pans were close at hand. I lined up about half a dozen sacks of various sizes full of herbs checking the contents of each one. Dakota stood close by, sneering at me. I retrieved the flint spearhead unobtrusively just before he came over.
“What do you have in the sacks?” he demanded.
“Herbs. The short plant with four angled leaves is called heal all for its medicinal properties. Others are named for their shape. There’s thorn apple, lion’s tooth and coneflowers. The one with hooded blue flowers is called skullcap. And there are other herbs.”
He noticed that I had skipped a sack.
“What’s in that one?” he said pointing to the sack I’d skipped. He grabbed the bag. “Are you hiding something in here?”
“I wouldn’t do that,” I warned.
That was all the reason Dakota needed to plunge his hand deeply into the sack. He howled like a wild animal and dropped it. The sack of stinging nettles fell to the ground. Dakota danced and waved his hand through the air trying to dislodge the nettles that had fastened to his hand and wrist. When the last nettle fell off, he held his hand in front of his face watching it swell and redden. I crouched on the ground, the spearhead hidden in my hand. I felt layers of civilization peel away from me. In a moment my enemy would drop his hand toward his gun. I would strike, tearing open his throat as I sang my death song. I never felt more alive than on this beautiful day. I would die today but I would not die alone.
I locked eyes with Dakota.
He said, “I’m going to kill you.”
I launched myself at him as he dropped his hand.
Something heavy blasted me below my ribs. It knocked me sideways as the spearhead went spinning away. I landed on my face and tasted blood. A heavy weight pinned me down despite the rage that coursed through my blood. I struggled but I could not escape.
Dakota shouted, “Move or I’ll shoot through you!”
I heard a chopping sound. Dakota collapsed in a heap.
I was confused and annoyed to find myself alive, panting and sweating under a heavy burden that I could not shift.
“Take it easy,” whispered David in my ear. “It’s all over. Lee clipped Dakota with his gun barrel. He’s out cold.”
I was pinned underneath David. I said, “You can get off me now.” David rolled off. I stayed on the ground for a moment gathering myself. When I stood, wincing in pain, I noticed two men dragging Dakota away.
“Did you kill him?” I asked Lee.
“I thought about it, but I didn’t.”
“You should have.”
I cleaned Jonathon’s wounds and applied a poultice of heal all. I wrapped him with clean bandages and noted a slight improvement in his color. I put a few stinging nettle leafs in a shallow pan and poured boiling water over them. Then I carefully peeled away the outside layer. I put the inner material in a pot. I left the spikes and exterior skin in the pan. I soaked the inner material in cold water and examined it closely to be certain it was clear of stickers.
I explained to David. “As hard as it is to get to, the inside of the nettle, properly cleaned, is an excellent food for sick or injured people. You can chop it up into tiny pieces and feed Jonathon a little a time in a broth. Keep giving him a trickle of cold water frequently too. He needs to replace the blood he’s lost.”
When I finished with Jonathon, I started to look at other men who had been wounded. Fortunately none of their wounds had begun to putrefy. For the rest of the day and all the day that followed. I cleaned the wounds, wrapped them in fresh bandages and told the men to keep the wounds clean. I made several trips for fresh herbs. After a little while, I was allowed to come and go on my own. A few of the men had coughs so I made a tea for them to drink from cone flowers, bee balm and a just sprinkle of pulverized thorn apple seeds. I set a couple of pots simmering with other herbal teas. I made a poultice from evening primrose roots and coneflowers for the men’s sores
I told David to add some chopped up lion’s tooth root (some call it dandelion) to the stinging nettle broth he fed to his brother.
David said, “Jonathon woke up for a minute today for the first time in a week or more. I’ve been keeping him clean and he’s looking better. He was as weak as a newborn kitten, but the bleeding has stopped. I reckon you saved his life.”
I looked over at Jonathon. He was sleeping.
“He looks better,” I agreed. “In another week or so he should be able to straddle a horse and ride slowly without endangering his life.”
David went from happy to glum. “I don’t know how much longer we’ll stay here. The horses have nearly recovered and men are getting restless. Lee had them digging rifle pits around the perimeter. Between you and me, I suspect that’s mostly to keep them busy. Everybody pulls sentry duty. He’s got scouts out on patrol day and night with orders to watch but not to shoot. So far all they’ve seen are a few Indians. Our horses are better than what we’ve seen around here.”
“I hadn’t thought on it, but I imagine he doesn’t want this bunch to have idle time on their hands. They’d probably turn on each other out of boredom. I wonder if he used to be an army officer.”
Lee’s voice came from behind us. “Hell, no. I’ve always worked for a living. I admit that I was a sergeant once before the lure of whiskey and easy money ended my career.”
“Is that when you learned to be where nobody expects you?”
Lee said, “Yep, it keeps the men on their toes thinking that I might be out there watching them at any time. Dakota’s hand is just now getting back to normal size. I thought I’d warn you.”
David said, “You should have killed him. He’s working up steam to come after you.”
“Maybe so,” said Lee. “But the farmer here is first on his list. Dakota is hell on wheels once the shooting starts. He’s probably too stupid to realize that he can get killed. Once I saw him ride right over a woman carrying a crying baby because she didn’t get out of his way quick enough. You can’t be too choosy when you put together a gang to rob banks. Some of the men think he’d be a better leader than I am. Never you mind that he couldn’t plan for a robbery of a one-room schoolhouse or figure his way out of gunny sack.”
David said, “Jonathon’s better, but he can’t travel. I’d like to leave him here with the herbalist.”
I said, “It will be about a week before he can travel safely on horseback. I’ll stay with him. Your men and animals are in shape to travel again. You’d be long gone before I had a chance to go to the sheriff. Leave me afoot without a weapon if you like.”
Lee titled his head to one side and thought. “Dakota would circle back to kill you if I did that. If you hid, he’d torture Jonathon to bring you out of hiding.”
David said, “Let me take care of Dakota.”
Lee shook his head. “Likely you and Dakota would both die and I can’t afford that. I need at least one of you to keep the others in line. Can you handle Dakota, farmer?”
“Not with guns,” I admitted. “But there is a way. Do you want to throw a going away jubilee?”
I explained my plan to Lee. Ex-military man that he was, he made several tactical changes. I knew that old Ben Schuler kept a still not far from here. He usually had a couple jugs of whiskey there. Lee and David came with me to see that I did not tamper with the whiskey beforehand. They watched while I poured a cup of strong tea into one half-filled jug. I shook it to mix the tea with the whiskey. Lee made me take a swallow to prove that it would not kill me. In a few minutes I felt feverish and the light hurt my eyes.
“I’ll survive. It is bitter. Will that bother Dakota?”
“As long as its whiskey, he won’t mind,” said Lee
“If he drinks the whole jug, it will knock him out. You’ll have to tie him to a horse to get him away from here. You can keep him tied up until he’s far away. ”
They found four other jugs. Lee reckoned that his men could drink half a jug each and barely feel a thing. When we got back to camp, he showed the men the jugs. He promised once the rifle pits were filled in and the horses and equipment passed inspection, the men could finish off the whiskey before they rode out.
Dakota was the first one to present himself for inspection. Lee looked over his horse and weapons, pronounced them ready and gave him the jug I had doctored. Dakota wrapped his arms around it and snarled at anyone who dared to come close to him. Knowing his moods, the other men left him alone. Dakota fixed me with a hard stare between greedy swallows. Once, when he thought Lee was not looking, he drew his finger across his throat in a slashing motion. He drained the jug, clutched his throat and staggered off in the direction of the latrine. The other men were too busy drinking to notice.
When the first man sitting on the grass fell backward to the ground there was some consternation, but when he started to snore loudly, the rest of the men laughed and finished off the jugs. One by one the men fell asleep. Lee did not start drinking until every man passed inspection. He tried to hold himself erect by sheer will. He was that last one to topple.
I checked Dakota first. He was stretched out on the ground, dead. I tried to dredge up a feeling of remorse for killing him, but I could not. I was sorry about his wasted life, but sorrier about the pain he had caused others. I asked God for forgiveness for not feeling guilty and went to check on the others. Everyone else was sleeping. One by one I removed their weapons, rolled them on their backs and trussed their wrists together. I removed their boots and hobbled them at the ankles and knees. They looked like calves ready to be branded. I worked slowly enough to be certain with every knot.
“What did you put in the whiskey?” asked a familiar voice. I looked up to see an old friend.
“Hello, Spotted Calf. Somebody mentioned seeing Indians. I wondered if you were around. I made strong skullcap tea. Every time it was ready I put some in a small bottle, snuck over to old Ben’s still and poured it into one of the jugs. The men were used to seeing pots of tea simmering. Luckily nobody poured himself a cup while I was gone.”
“Good choice,” he said. “That could put the whole U.S. cavalry to sleep. How’d you kill the madman?”
“I made a special tea from thorn apple seeds and poured it into the jug for him. The outlaw leader made me take a swig. I didn’t swallow much, but it still got me feverish.”
“Jimsonweed seeds are especially poisonous,” said Spotted Calf. “Strong medicine for a strong evil spirit. Jimsonweed, thorn apple; I’ve heard it called devil’s trumpet too. It called him to hell. Too bad he died so quickly.”
“Would you mind going to tell the sheriff where I am?”
“He’s on his way already,” he answered. “He should be here soon. I’ll be gone by then. The sheriff and I are not friends. He’s from back east. He doesn’t understand our ways. The bad men rode good horses. Do you think anybody would notice if a few went missing?”
“Leave the tack behind. They robbed a bank so there should be money in some of the saddlebags. Nobody’s going to care about horses, but I’d hate to have a posse chasing you.”
“Ha! You’d hate to be in the posse that chases me. I’ll leave everything but the horses.” Spotted Calf left as quietly as he had come. Sheriff Seth Child arrived shortly thereafter.
“Lizzie sent me to find you,” he said. “She probably got tired of doing your share of the chores.”
“Most likely.”
Child noticed the men tied up on the ground and snoring.
“What have we here, Benjamin?” he asked.
“Bank robbers from somewhere back to the east,” I answered. If you get a wagon, we could toss ‘em in the back and carry them to Fort Riley.”
He looked around with a frown on his face.
“Why are they all asleep?”
“Because I didn’t want to kill more of them than I had to.”
Child looked at me. I stared back at him. Spotted Calf was right. Sometimes people from Massachusetts think every problem can be solved by words. Westerners know better.
I challenged him. “I did kill one of them. Do you want to arrest me?”
A wind rippled through the prairie grasses while the sheriff looked at me silently.
“You against a gang of bank robbers. How many were there?”
“Ten.”
“Ten against one. No, I don’t see any reason to arrest you. Where’s the money?”
“Damned if I know. I was busy just staying alive.”
“Point taken,” said Child. “Why don’t we toss ‘em over their horses and tie them down? We could lead the horses back into town.”
“We could if there are enough horses left.”
“Was that damned Spotted Calf here? I thought I saw him in the shadows. He thinks it’s funny to steal horses from me.”
I smiled for the first time in what felt like a century. Child managed to take four men and all the loose tack on the five horses that Spotted Calf left us. He didn’t find much money and he gave me a measuring look. I didn’t care. He returned shortly with two more men and a wagon. Lee, David and the rest of the men came awake as we loaded them, still hogtied, into the wagon. We moved carefully with Jonathon. The men fell silent when we tossed Dakota’s body in with them.
The sheriff asked me, “Why did you kill him?”
Lee answered for me. “Dakota would have come back here sooner or later. The farmer humiliated him; worse than that he wasn’t fearful of him. Dakota wouldn’t let that ride. He wouldn’t hesitate to burn down the farmer’s house with his family inside or to sneak in and poison his well to get back at him. I should have remembered what a man with a family will do to protect them. I’ve been outlaw too long. I should have killed Dakota myself and left Jonathon with the farmer.”
I gathered up my herbs, my old horse, my rifle and headed back to Joshua and Lizzie. I had the taste of ashes in my mouth. I left home on a fool’s errand. Nothing Spotted Calf, Doc Bradley or I could do would cure Lizzie’s cough. No herb or medicine could add even a day to the little time she had left this world. Nothing could replace the days I lost by being away from her.
I looked at Joshua and Amy.
“Sheriff Child came by days later to tell me that most of the money from the bank robbery was recovered from the bodies of four outlaws cut down trying to get out of the town they robbed. The robbery left two townsmen dead and four wounded in the streets. The sheriff said an outlaw’s horse knocked down a woman and her baby, but they were only bruised. The outlaws made off with about two hundred dollars.”
“So that was why there wasn’t much money in the saddlebags,” said Amy.
“And why Lee didn’t want to divvy up the money before he had to,” added Joshua.
“Yes, he was having trouble controlling the men already. If they found out how little money there was, they might have come after him.”
“Did Jonathon recover?” asked Amy.
“He did. He was identified as one of the men who stayed outside the bank to control the horses. He was shot while holding a horse for his brother. He was sentenced to prison but only for four years. At trial some of the men claimed they were trying to get money for the pro-slavery cause. I think the jury knew that was just a poor excuse.”
I paused. “I told you the story, Amy, so you could tell your ma the kind of man I really am. I still don’t feel guilty for killing Dakota. I left my wife during her last days on a fool’s errand. When I was down on the ground, ready to kill Dakota, I became just as much an animal as he was. I’ve never felt entirely civilized since then.”
Joshua said, “You’re the kind of man who came back to us even though the devil himself tried to stop you. I know as long as you have breath in your body, you always will.”
Amy said, “You’re the kind of man who saved Jonathon when it would have been easier to let him die. You could have poisoned all the robbers, but you didn’t. You weren’t tempted by money from the robbery and at the end of the day you didn’t ride into town to brag on how clever you’d been. You just went home.”
I shook my head. They didn’t understand. They thought I was almost some kind of hero. I knew I was not. Amy’s mother would see me for the fool I am.
Amy asked, “What kind of plant is that pretty one?”
“That’s called a butterfly milkweed. Most of the year, it doesn’t look like anything special. You hardly notice it until it flowers. Then it is pretty. Flowers can be any shade from yellow to deep orange. It attracts every kind of bee and butterfly that wants nectar. The Indians use it for throat and lung problems, fevers, cuts and sores. It’s a good neighbor to other plants and doesn’t spread to where it’s not wanted. I’m told it grows all across the continent.”
Amy said, “I’ll tell Ma the story. She can draw her own conclusions.”
Copyright ©2006, Warren Bull All Rights Reserved