Death is the Hunter by Charles G. West

Author:Charles G. West [West, Charles G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781101575031
Publisher: A Signet Book
Published: 2012-02-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Clary’s directions to the Osage village took them east along the Cimarron to a point where it doubled back to form an S, with high bluffs on the southern side. From there, Sam and his family struck a trail due north that led them to the Arkansas River. Broken Knife’s village was on the northern bank of the river. The journey took more than four days at the best rate he could manage to coax out of his team of horses. Both Sam and Martha questioned the wisdom of traveling that distance to talk to a man who Clary said might not even help them. Luella expressed her opinion that it was at least worth looking into. The farther they traveled each day, the more they began to think they were on a fool’s mission. The only justification for their actions, they decided, was the fact that they were going back to Kansas if all else failed.

Their arrival in the Indian village of huts and tepees just before noon caused a turnout of the entire camp, since the people were not accustomed to white visitors. By the time Sam pulled the horses to a stop before one of the larger huts, the wagon was surrounded by a crowd of curious men, women, and children who appeared to be astonished by these unlikely visitors. Sam’s initial thought upon surveying the inquiring faces gazing up at them was that this had been a grave mistake, and a poor decision by the three of them. Feeling Martha press close to him, he knew she shared his uneasiness. Just as his discomfort began to progress into fear, he was relieved to see a white man coming to greet them. A few seconds later, when the man approached to within twenty yards, he was not so sure he was a white man, and his apprehensions returned. “What a wretched-looking man,” Martha whispered. Sam could not disagree. His hopes for any help from this quarter quickly evaporated. He hardly looked the image of a guardian angel. Dressed in dirty buckskins from head to toe, a bear claw necklace around his neck, and a grease-stained derby set at a rakish angle atop long gray hair that had yellowed with age, he strode casually up to the wagon. “You folks lookin’ for the big land rush?” he asked, flashing a grin that revealed a couple of gaps where teeth had once rooted. “’Cause you sure as hell missed it.” Not waiting for Sam’s answer, he walked around and peered into the back of the wagon, his stare met by one from Luella. “See you got a couple of pups in the back,” he said to Sam when he walked back to the wagon seat. “These folks here is Broken Knife’s people—Osage. When you came up in that wagon, they was kinda hopin’ you was bringin’ the bacon and flour the Injun agent promised.”

Dismayed to have traveled so far to be met by one with such a shabby appearance, Sam was not sure what to say to the grinning man staring up at him.

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