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"Ah, well, I won't be usin' it, then," Rudi said cheerfully.
Red Leaf laughed, a little unwillingly. "You don't faze easy, do you, Rudi Mackenzie?"
"Not so that you'd notice, John Red Leaf," Rudi said. "There's no point in it, as far as I can see."
When they were out of quiet-conversational range of any of the others, he went on:
"Who's Virginia Kane?"
Red Leaf sighed and reached into a pouch and rolled himself a cigarette; when he'd flicked his lighter he passed the smouldering twist to Rudi, who hid a smile at the thought of the last time he'd shared tobacco with anyone-if it counted when you were dreaming, and the other party was a god. He took a puff, coughed slightly, and handed it back.
"She's Dave Kane's daughter," Red Leaf said, and looked sideways at Rudi's face. "Big wheel in the Powder River Ranchers' Organization, the PRRO-"
He pronounced it pee-double-r-oh.
"-and he and his father helped us a lot right after the Change-helped us get going, and brought his men to fight on our side when some folks decided that land was just plumb wasted on Injuns, and we backed him up a couple of times when the PRRO's politics got dirty. Or bloody."
"And it's the truth a man should stand ready to fight for his friends," Rudi acknowledged. "And stand between their friends' families and their enemies, if it's needful."
Red Leaf nodded. "There was a rumor he was part Lakota, but I don't know if that's true; he was a good friend for certain, but a bad man to cross. Anyway, after that we were tight with him and the PRRO-the Southern Lakota at least; we visited back and forth, did some trading, that sort of thing. And that kept this part of the country fairly peaceful, which was damned useful when we were fighting the States… the Midwesterners. We got a little overambitious in that direction back when things were still up in the air, thought we could take over our old stamping grounds in the Red River country since Wakantanka had given the white-eyes the grandmother of all wedgies."
"It didn't work, I presume?" Rudi said.
I know it didn't because Ingolf fought in that war, the which I will not mention either. It's a diplomat I'm becoming, or a shameless equivocator, if there's a difference.
"Nah, too many Norski farm-boys with pikes and Swedes with axes in the way. Even with all the, ah, volunteers from here and there we had joining up with us back about then, they outnumbered us bad. We should have gone after the Cutters while they were still small potatoes, but that's my perfect hindsight talking. They weren't a problem then and who wanted western goddamned Montana anyway? Only a Cutter or a Crow would take it on a bet."
"And so Virginia has a claim on you because of her kin?"
Red Leaf looked unhappy. "Yeah, but that's not what's activating my ulcers."
"What is, then?"
"Now that Kane finally got chopped by the Cutters, it means everything but the southern fringe of the Powder River country will be under Corwin's thumb. We were fighting them ourselves until about a year ago, up north of the Black Hills in what used to be Montana-frankly, we got beat, though we hurt 'em bad; we offered the Kanes sanctuary as part of the deal at the end of the war, but they were just too damned stubborn. Now the Prophet's boys might start in on us again if we shelter her… but we can't turn her over. It wouldn't be right. How'd she end up with you?"
"Rode in last night, hungry and dry and about to keel over, and her horse in worse shape than that," Rudi said. "All we did was give her a meal-of your tatonka -and a place by our fire. And just as a matter of interest, the Cutters are fighting in the Far West right now, and might be a little shy of starting up their war with you, so."
I seem to be developing into a collector of disinherited princes, just as Ignatius warned me, Rudi thought whimsically; underneath that was a slight chill. Well, the Rimpoche warned me that I'd be collecting friends and enemies the way a dog does fleas in summertime.
"This is above my pay grade…" Red Leaf said.
What does that mean? Rudi thought. Is that a Sioux saying?
"Above my level of responsibility, I mean. I'd better-"
"Ky-ee-ky!"
The Indian's head snapped around. One of his scouts came galloping in from the westward, waving his bow over his head. He drew rein beside the chief and gabbled details.
The Sioux boiled into motion, tightening girths and checking weapons. After a moment, Rudi's band did likewise.
"Hokahe!" Red Leaf shouted. "Let's go!"
TheScourgeofGod
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
From sunset to sunrise in flight
The Gods are hammering out
The hero from the man From: The Song of Bear and Raven
Attributed to Fiorbhi
"Damn," Red Leaf said. "They outnumber us by quite a bit."
The Sioux and their guests had stopped at the top of a rise. The pursuers had halted a mile and a half farther back, near the little stream, and they were watering their horses. Rudi leveled his own binoculars and rough-counted, being careful to distinguish between warriors and remounts. He pursed his lips thoughtfully.
"Eighty or ninety," he said. "Twenty of them are Sword of the Prophet, from their gear. The others are cowboys."
"Yeah, locals from the Powder River spreads that've gone over to the CUT. Three-to-one all up, bad odds. And they wouldn't have come this far onto our territory if they weren't ready to fight. I'm really worried about the Sword; I've run into them before. Those guys are nuts. They want to die for the Prophet, and they like killing for him even better, and they won't give up for shit-we learned that in the war we just had."
"You're not telling me anything new, so," Rudi said dryly. "I think I recognize their commander and he's been chasing me since last Lughnasadh, or nearly, and over better than a thousand miles of rough country…"
"Lughnasadh?"
"The summer harvest festival. Call it a little less than a year. Any chance of reinforcements from your folk?"
"Not much, but let's do what we can. No point in keeping all the remounts…"
He shouted. "Hey, Wolf Paws, Brown Bear!"
Two of the youths riding bareback trotted over. "Take four horses each and get to the hocoka. Tell 'em where we are and how many of the wasicun toka there are after us, and tell 'em to hurry."
They looked slightly mutinous, and he barked: "Hokahe!"
The youngsters turned and went, fast- get going was evidently what hokahe meant.
While they did the rest of the Sioux put on their war gear, which in most cases simply meant transferring their metal-strapped leather helmets from the saddlebow to the head, and adding a few feathers to them, kept carefully wrapped against need. The covers came off their shields, revealing designs painted or pyrographed or picked out in feathers and beads on the tough bison hide-a buffalo's head, zigzag lines to represent thunder and lightning, a bear's paw, a dragonfly, eagles or falcons, deer, cougar, lions and patterns of dots to show hailstorms. One had a whole stuffed weasel attached to his.
The men were cheerful, laughing and joking with one another as they took a few seconds to paint their faces, usually simply a few bars of black or yellow, though one did his face with red on the right side and yellow on the left. Edain had managed to get the more complex Mackenzie war-paint on-his was a stylized wolf's face-and it attracted some admiring comments.
"Most times of year there would be bands scattered all through here, but this is the season we get together and do the social thing. We're about a half day's hard ride from the nearest hocoka -that's a big encampment," Red Leaf said to Rudi as the band rocked back into motion.