Savage Skies

Chapter One

Through many changing years

We have shared each other’s gladness,

And we wept each other’s tears. . . .

—Jefferys

Wyoming, l85l

Autumn—the moon when the calf grows hair

The sun spiraled lazily down the smoke hole of the largest tepee in the village of the Wind Band of Assiniboine Indians, a name which meant literally “our people.”

This was the lodge of Chief Wa-ke-un-to, Blue Thunder. Twenty-eight winters of age, he was a muscled and boldly handsome man. His sculpted features contrasted vividly with the pockmarked face of the man who sat with him in private council.

Gray Eyes was a dear childhood friend of Blue Thunder and chief of the neighboring White Owl Band of Assiniboine.

“It is good to have you sitting with me again, my friend,” Blue Thunder said. “Tell me why you have need of council with your friend Blue Thunder. I am always here to listen and to offer help, if it is need

ed.”

“I come with sad news,” Gray Eyes said solemnly. “I hate to ask for your help again, my friend, but times are hard for my people, and this time our misfortune is not of my doing. I need to ask your warriors’ assistance in a task that will be dangerous for us all.”

The tail feather of an eagle hung from a lock of hair at the right side of Gray Eyes’ head as the mark of his chieftaincy.

He gazed at his friend, who wore a similar feather in his own long, black hair. Like Gray Eyes, Blue Thunder was attired in fringed buckskin and moccasins.

“Never feel ashamed of the trouble life has brought you, but take from it the strength to make things better again for your people,” Blue Thunder said, gazing at his friend’s pockmarked face.

It was so disfigured, Blue Thunder could barely recognize him. Blue Thunder had warned his friend not to go to the white man’s trading post while the disease called smallpox was killing so many white and red-skinned people.

Knowing of the danger, Blue Thunder had separated his own band from others during this time. As a result, the Wind Band remained unscathed by the disease.

For a moment Blue Thunder wondered if he should risk the lives of his warriors to help a chief who had disregarded Blue Thunder’s earlier warnings.

Should he tell Gray Eyes that he must live with the decision that now haunted him?

But no, Blue Thunder loved Gray Eyes as much as he would love a brother. The two had learned to shoot and ride together as children, and he knew that he could not refuse his friend anything.

“Tell me now about the problem that has brought you here today,” Blue Thunder invited.

He slid a wooden tray of various foods, both meats and fruits, closer to his friend, who still refused to choose anything.

It was apparent that food was the farthest thing from Gray Eyes’ mind, and Blue Thunder was anxious to know what caused such distress.

“I have come to sit with you and talk alone with you, having left my remaining warriors to protect the survivors of a recent ambush on my village by the Comanche renegade, Big Nose,” Gray Eyes said, his voice drawn with emotion. “The Comanche knew how weakened my people were from smallpox. Our band has been reduced from one hundred fifty lodges to eighty. Big Nose took advantage of this weakness and captured not only many of my strongest warriors, but also a great number of our horses.”

“And you want vengeance,” Blue Thunder guessed. He chose a piece of venison from the tray and took a bite, his eyes gazing intently into Gray Eyes’.

“I want more than that,” Gray Eyes said, his gaze suddenly aflame with hate. And then his look softened into concern. “I want my warriors back, or my band will not survive. Will you ride with me, Blue Thunder, to go and reclaim what is mine? Will you choose your best warriors to accompany us? Getting back what is mine will not be easy. Some may die to rescue my warriors. Are you prepared to chance that? Or would you rather I leave and set out after Big Nose with the few warriors who are left to ride with me?”

Gray Eyes lowered his gaze. “I am asking too much of my friend this time,” he said thickly.

He ran a hand across his pock-scarred brow. Feeling the scars was always a reminder of what he had so unwisely done.

He had taken his warriors to that trading post, even though he’d heard the rumors that it was overrun by the white man’s disease.

But the pelts that he had for trade that year had been too good not to take the chance. He and his men had been eager to get what they could from the richest pelts they’d hunted in many a moon.

And there were only four or five months out of a full year when the fur of the animals was marketable. The rest of the year, his warriors killed only enough to provide meat, clothing, and lodges for their families.

If he had not taken advantage of that special time when he’d had so many plush pelts, he knew that someone else would have filled the shelves of the trading post, leaving no space for his furs.

So he had chanced everything, and had lost in the worst way. Ho, yes, he had gotten what was due him in trade, but the sacrifice had been the most terrible any village of people could suffer.

Many had died, and those who had not were scarred for life.

“Please do not lower your eyes in shame,” Blue Thunder said. He reached over and placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. “My friend, you know that I would never let you down, even if you did refuse to listen to my warning about the white man’s disease. You have already paid the price of not heeding my warning, and now it is time to forget and to move forward.”

Gray Eyes lifted his chin and gazed directly into Blue Thunder’s eyes. “You will join me then to hunt for the Comanche who came and killed and stole from Gray Eyes and his people?” he asked hopefully. “I fear that if you do not help me, my small band is doomed. We will eventually lose everything.”

“I am very aware of all of this,” Blue Thunder said, slowly nodding his head. He moved his hand from Gray Eyes’ shoulder. “Now is the time to look forward, not backward.”

“I should have listened to you about the smallpox,” Gray Eyes said tightly. “I never should have gone to that trading post, but the hunt seemed too good to ignore. I had the best pelts I’d seen in many moons. So did all of my warriors. Their pride matched mine. We were blinded by that pride, my friend. Now many of those valiant warriors are no longer with us.”

“You must leave behind such regret and look forward to the future,” Blue Thunder encouraged. He gazed intently into his friend’s eyes. “Where there is hope, there is a way. I will do everything I can to help you build on that hope.”

“Blue Thunder, my best friend in the world, instead of bringing my people great riches, I brought them the greatest misfortune,” Gray Eyes said thickly. “Even more devastating than war! My people have gained nothing by intimacy with whites but disease and heartbreak.”

“Smallpox has destroyed the lives of many people with red skin,” Blue Thunder said, slowly nodding. “Like you, too many of our people chose to ignore the dangers of associating with whites. The price paid has been hard to bear.”

“I am grateful I had a friend such as you to help in our time of trouble,” Gray Eyes said. He placed a hand on Blue Thunder’s muscled shoulder. “You have always been a true friend. How can I ever repay you for such friendship?”

“No payment, or thanks, is needed,” Blue Thunder said as Gray Eyes slowly lowered his hand from his shoulder. “Hakamya-upo, come. Come with me now. I will go outside and announce a quick council. We will meet and discuss how we can get the best of the renegades. Big Nose has been a thorn in my side for too long. Some even say he was the one responsible for the death of my wife. It is time for him to be stopped.”

“Ho, it is time to rescue my warriors,” Gray Eyes said, stepping from the tepee with Blue Thunder. “I have prayed to Wah-con-tun-ga, the Greatness who looks down over us all, that he will help make the wrongs suffered right.”

“After our council we will leave to track down Big Nose and those who follow him. We will bring home the warriors taken by them,” Blue Thunder said, walking alongside Gray Eyes to the center of the village. There, Blue Thunder would make his announcement about the council and why it was being held.

He turned to Gray Eyes. “We will also retrieve your horses,” he promised.

“Pila-maye,” Gray Eyes said, humbly thanking Blue Thunder.

Chapter Two