Free Shortgrass Song by Mike Blakely Page B

threw him down. Dutch then sprang from the ground and dove for the black man, but Buffalo Head kicked both feet, carried the old trader on his heels, and launched him over the creek bank.
    Snake Woman did not know what it meant, but it was so fantastic that she could only take it as her second sign from the spirit world.
    Buster ran to the milk wagon for his horse pistol. “Mister Ab!” he yelled again. He heard Dutch climbing the creek bank. He opened the crate and found his gun. When he looked up, he found Dutch hatless at the top of the bank, a long knife in his hand. Buster aimed the pistol.
    â€œGo ahead and shoot, you buck nigger. I’m a spotted-rump Palousey horse and bulletproof!”
    â€œMister, you don’t go horselike around here,” Buster said, trying to find some reason in Dutch’s jabber. “That moon ain’t full anyhow.”
    Dutch looked at the moon. He started speaking an Indian tongue and stalked closer to Buster with the knife as he raved.
    â€œHold it, Dutch!” Ab was coming barefoot from the dugout with his Walker Colt. Ella ran two steps behind. Snake Woman jumped out of the wagon and sprinted toward the half-built log house.
    â€œBuster, what in Hades is going on?” Ab asked.
    â€œHe was in there with the Snake Woman, trying to take his pleasure.”
    â€œOh, my!” Ella screamed. “You filthy devil! Get off of our land!”
    â€œWoman, this place belongs to the gods of the red men. Palousey is my name, spotted horse god of the mountains! You’ll catch my wind and fire and blizzard for your tongue, white woman!”
    â€œAb, shoot him if he won’t go.”
    â€œI won’t go till I kill that big buck nigger,” Dutch said.
    â€œOh! I’ll shoot you myself for saying such a thing!” She tried to pull the revolver away from her husband.
    â€œCalm down, Ella. He’s crazy as a coot.”
    Buster heard the half-animal squall again and saw Snake Woman pass in front of his pistol sights. She wielded the ax overhead and brought it down on Dutch’s shoulder. The mountain man dropped his knife, roared like a bear, knocked Snake Woman against the wagon with his left fist, and staggered back to the brink of the creek bank.
    Buster moved in closer, protecting Snake Woman with his pistol. He could see the glisten of blood running down the gingham shirt.
    â€œGive me that!” Ella demanded. She pulled at Ab’s Colt, but he wouldn’t let her have it. “Give me your pistol,” she said, running to Buster. She wrenched the weapon from Buster’s hand, pointed it, closed her eyes, and blew away a respectable chunk of the creek bank. “Fiddlesticks! Buster, where’s your powder?”
    Cheyenne Dutch leapt silently over the bank and ran for the trees across the creek, stooping for his beaver hat on the run. Ab went to the edge and watched him to make sure he wasn’t trying to double back. He saw the weird gait of the wounded trader running apelike up the bald hill along the Arapaho Trail.
    Snake Woman shook Buffalo Head by the elbow and made him watch her hand signs.
    â€œWhat’s she trying to say?” Ella asked.
    â€œI don’t know. Somethin’ about a sign from the spirits. I guess she caught some crazy from that ol’ Cheyenne Dutch.”
    *   *   *
    At dawn Ab took his guns and went to see how many cattle had wandered off during the night. He found the two spotted Nez Perce horses hobbled and grazing with his herd. Across the white blanket on the rump of the gelding were six letters scrawled in the dried blood of Cheyenne Dutch: Pardon. The white flank of the mare bore its own grisly message: C RAZY.

NINE
    Matthew claimed the gelding called Pard, and Pete took Crazy, the mare. They mounted every morning to round up the cattle and drive them to fresh grass before they came back to work on the cabin. Riding the spotted horses through the morning