Savage Skies

Once inside the walls of the fort, he would have to behave normally, bargaining for supplies in exchange for his furs, while his mind and eyes would be on other things.

While exchanging small talk as well as food and smokes with the colonel in charge, Blue Thunder would be watching for a blondhaired, blue-eyed man who fit the description of his woman’s husband, as well as the child who was reported to be with him.

He hoped the plan would all go smoothly, for he did not want to return to his home, or Shirleen, empty-handed.

Still waiting, and observing what was happening at the closed gates, he saw one of the pony soldiers hand over a packet of tobacco, which would be brought to Blue Thunder with an invitation for his party to proceed into the fort. Even now the gates were being opened as his warriors rode back toward him.

Proud Horse came up beside Blue Thunder, stopped, then handed over the buckskin packet of tobacco.

“We are welcome to trade,” Proud Horse said quietly. “But I have news, and I am not sure whether it is good or bad.”

“And what news is this?” Blue Thunder asked as he took the tobacco packet and tied its drawstrings to the waistband of his fringed breeches.

“I think the news is good, and I believe you will think so, too,” Proud Horse said, slowly smiling. “My chief, there is a new colonel in charge of Fort Dennison, replacing the one who has been known to say he would proudly spit on all Indians if he had the chance. The young sentry who gave me the tobacco seem

ed proud to say that the new colonel is one who is kind and who strives for peace.”

“That is good . . . if it is true,” Blue Thunder replied, always skeptical of news that was said to be good and should make the red man happy.

He had heard of such tricks before, of leaders who were said to be good-hearted toward Indians, and then killed and even scalped them at the first opportunity.

“His name is?” Blue Thunder asked. He was proud to know many of the colonels in charge, who traveled from one fort to another.

“Colonel Cline,” Proud Horse said. “Colonel Harold Cline.”

“It is a kindly sounding name, though not one I know. I hope the man himself is kind as well,” Blue Thunder said. He turned to address his other warriors. “We have been given an invitation to enter the fort walls. We shall go in now. But you know what role you must play while we are there, besides making a good trade. You are to watch for a white man such as Shirleen described to us. Also notice whether a white child of my daughter’s age is with this man.”

Everyone nodded, and then Blue Thunder pointed the way forward and they all rode into the fort. Since Blue Thunder was a well-known and admired chief who strived for peace with white people at all times, he was greeted with the usual recognition of such a leader. The American flag was raised and cannons were fired to announce his arrival.

The first time that had happened, Blue Thunder had been alarmed by the pony soldiers’ response. He had thought he was being mocked and was riding into the face of danger.

But after he’d heard the commander’s explanation of the salute, he had realized that he should be proud of such a greeting, not angry, afraid, or suspicious.

Now he smiled and nodded at the soldier who was raising the flag, and then at the one who had fired the cannon.

Trusting the white pony soldiers’ intentions, and also having faith in the commander whom Blue Thunder had not yet met face-to-face, he rode on inside the fort walls. His warriors and their heavily laden packhorses followed him.

Once they were all inside, several soldiers came and saluted them, then led them on foot to a large outdoor receiving area.

There the horses were unpacked and each warrior took charge of his own skins, placing them on tables for the trading that would come after food and smokes were shared with the new colonel.

Having brought no pelts of his own, Blue Thunder dismounted and led his horse over to where many of the pony soldiers’ steeds were lined up along a hitching rail.

As he wrapped his reins around the rail, he heard heavy footsteps coming up behind him.

He turned on a moccasined heel and found himself face-to-face with the new colonel, who wore a freshly ironed blue uniform with shining brass buttons that reflected the rays of the late afternoon sun.

His face was square-jawed, his black hair was sprinkled with gray, and his eyes were of a violet color that Blue Thunder had never seen before.

But it was the man’s smile and firm handshake that told Blue Thunder that what he had heard about the new commander was true. His eyes shone with kindness as he smiled at Blue Thunder, his hand now lowering away from Blue Thunder’s to rest on a sheathed saber at his right side.

“Welcome to Fort Dennison,” Colonel Cline said, smiling broadly and revealing a smooth line of sparkling white teeth. “I have heard about you. It is good to finally make your acquaintance.”

“It is good to make yours,” Blue Thunder replied. He walked with the colonel toward a large table that sat away from the other tables where the pelts and robes were being neatly displayed.

As they sat down opposite one another, so that Blue Thunder would have a full view of the bargaining that was to take place, food was brought to the table and plates were stacked for those who wished to eat.

“I hope you will enjoy the feast I offer you and your warriors today,” Colonel Cline said, also watching the Assiniboine warriors unload their packhorses. When they had finished, they came with some of the soldiers and were offered places at the table.