Brack by Johnny Quarles

Author:Johnny Quarles [Quarles, Johnny]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Indian Territory, Fiction, General, Westerns
ISBN: 9780425122990
Google: GnZCM6YCdCUC
Amazon: B01C6BUZZA
Publisher: Berkley
Published: 1990-09-14T16:00:00+00:00

22

WHEN THEY REACHED Bear Claw's village, Ash exclaimed that he never would have guessed it to be where it was, nestled down in a ravine among a random cluster of trees. "Why, they're so well hidden, I coulda rode past it ten times and never seen a soul, except for the smoke comin' from their fires," he commented to Sunday Allen.

The tribe members greeted Bear Claw and Dark Moon with a mixture of sorrow and rejoicing. Brack ciphered there to be about a hundred fifty. There were no more than thirty braves among them. The rest were women, children, and old weather-beaten men. They all looked hungry. There was smoke billowing out from some campfires, but Brack couldn't see anything edible being cooked.

The Indians rushed toward Bear Claw, grateful, but when they saw the draped bodies of the slain warriors, a great cry went up among the squaws. They wailed in grief and tugged at their hair, while Brack and the men sat quietly and gave their respect.

Bear Claw let them have their moment of weeping, then issued orders. Before the rest of the men had finished dismounting, a longhorn had been plucked from the herd and its throat cut. In minutes, each of the smoldering fires had a fresh cut of beef hanging above it. Bear Claw stood, watching his people as they excitedly waited for the meat to roast. A delicious aroma was filling the air.

Brack watched as several squaws took away the bodies for burial preparations, then started searching for a sign of the three Lincolns. He saw nothing but bronze-skinned Comanches. He was starting to feel dubious when Bear Claw made a movement, and two squaws and a boy left the group and approached them.

"You keep your word. Bear Claw keeps his word. My part of deal." He pushed the three toward Brack.

Ash stepped forward and said, "Why, them ain't white folks, atall."

Brack stooped down and studied their faces. They were dressed like all the other Comanches in the camp. Their skin was brown and weather-beaten, too. He opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again when he noticed that the younger girl's features didn't seem to match up with those of an Indian. On closer inspection, the older girl, who stood with her face bowed low, and the boy didn't match up, either. All three had dark hair, but it wasn't so black as it should have been. He stepped close to the older girl and asked, "Are you the Lincolns?"

The woman's eyes darted back and forth anxiously between Brack and Bear Claw, then she slowly nodded. Just then, a young brave came running toward them, shouting angrily in his native tongue, and threw his lance at Brack's feet. Bear Claw turned on the young man, staring at him until the brave shrank back miserably. Bear Claw removed the lance from the ground and broke it over his knee, then scolded the brave, who ran off behind the tents. The older Lincoln girl watched the brave leave, then returned her gaze to the ground at her feet.

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