Sioux Slaughter (A Davy Crockett Western Book 2) by David Robbins

Author:David Robbins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: pulp fiction, davy crockett, western ebook, david thompson, david robbins, us frontier fiction, western online, flavius harris
Publisher: Piccadilly Publishing

Chapter Eight

Davy Crockett had a reputation for being one of the finest hunters in all of Tennessee. His skill, everyone said, was on a par with that of the Indians.

Now was his chance to prove it. A single misstep and the Sioux would be on him like riled bees on a bear. Of the entire war party, only White-Hollow-Horn and possibly Black Buffalo had any interest in keeping him alive.

The camp was so quiet that the crackling of the embers was loud by comparison.

Tiptoeing past the outer ring of sleepers, Davy crept toward Struck-By-Blackfeet. It was lunacy, he knew, but he was not leaving without his rifle and his tomahawk.

Not all that long ago, Davy had been captured by a Fox band and escaped in the middle of the night, just like now, and the experience had taught him valuable lessons. For one thing, he’d learned never to walk between a sleeper and the fire if he could help it. For some reason, even if the man was snoring loud enough to rouse the dead, it was apt to wake him up.

For another, Davy had discovered that it was unwise to put his foot down within six inches of a sleeper’s ear. No matter how quietly he did it, sometimes the faint stirring of air was enough to interrupt the man’s slumber.

Accordingly, Davy methodically picked his way closer to the center of the band, where Struck-By-Blackfeet slept. The Teton had placed the rifle, ammo pouch, and powder horn beside him, but the tomahawk was wedged under the top of his breechclout.

It was to Davy’s advantage that the Sioux had not posted a guard. Indians rarely did, except when they were certain enemies were close by.

It had surprised Davy to find out that most tribes did not even bother to post sentries around their villages at night. It was a tactical weakness other tribes always exploited by attacking at first light to cause the most confusion.

The same flaw had worked to the benefit of the whites during the Creek War. Time and again, they had completely surrounded unsuspecting Creek towns and either wiped them out or taken the inhabitants prisoner. Time and again, the Creeks had failed to learn by their mistake.

Now, treading carefully past a stout Sioux who rumbled like a thundercloud, Davy felt something under his sole, something that started to bend under the pressure of his weight. Instantly lifting his foot, he saw a thick twig that would have snapped like a gunshot and given him away.

The low flames cast a feeble glow over the nearest warriors. Otherwise, shadows shrouded the camp, which protected Davy seconds later when he skirted the stout Dakota and suddenly the man stopped snoring and opened his eyes.

With the blanket pulled up over his head as if to ward off the chill, Davy could pass for a warrior if he were not given a close scrutiny. So rather than stand there flat-footed, he walked on toward the fire, shuffling wearily as might a man who had just woken up.

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