The Dog People (The Colter Saga Book 4) Page 5

  “Why not?” Matthew asked.

  “Years ago,” Dalton said. “The Osage pretty much ran things from Oklahoma clear over to the Mississippi. They were really something too. Most people don’t know that the Osage are among the tallest people in all of North America. The men averaged six feet tall and many are over six five.”

  “Maybe they’re friendly,” Matthew said. “We never ran into them, when the Sioux were fighting with the Chippewa.”

  “The Osage are not a tribe you want to mess with,” Dalton said.

  “Why do you say that?” Matthew asked.

  “When I was living with the Crow,” Dalton said. “We heard stories of the Osage.”

  “Like what?” Matthew asked.

  “Have you ever heard of something called the cutthroat gap massacre?” Dalton asked.

  “No,” Matthew said.

  “The way I heard it, the Osage fought the Kiowa up in Kansas, near Wichita,” Dalton said. “The Kiowa had come onto their land without permission, and the Osage jumped them. They killed all of the Kiowa, cut off their heads, and put them in a long, straight line of cooking pots. It was some time before the Kiowa’s, who were fearsome in their own right, trespassed onto Osage land again.”

  “That seems a little extreme,” Matthew said.

  “Maybe it was just a story the Osage put out to scare people away,” Dalton said.

  “It worked,” Matthew said. “I don’t want to go anywhere near them.”

  Dalton smiled and got up and stretched.

  “Well,” Dalton said. “It’s been fun, but I’m heading back to Muskogee in the morning.”

  “I’m going with you,” Matthew said. “I’ve had enough of wandering around hoping to run into the dogs. Let’s go back and see if Shannon and the others are ready to head west.

  It was cloudy and threatened rain the next morning. Both men rolled their sleeping gear, and started saddling the horses.

  “You know,” Matthew said, as they started back. “It’s a shame we still can’t just get to know people like the Osage. Instead, we all end up in armed camps, suspicious of each other.”

  “Yeah,” Dalton said. “Maybe if we got along, we could have slept indoors last night. Did the mosquitoes bother you during the night? They ate me alive.”

  ***

  A day before the Colters were to leave, James and Dalton went to see Jonas. They found him in a small shed at the edge of town. The shed smelled of new leather. There were dried cow hides stretched, and stacked in the corner. Several long strands of leather were nailed to the wall of the shed. Jonas had a tight grip on the strands, and pulled them tightly by leaning back with all his weight. He appeared to be braiding them together.

  James stepped into the shed. Dalton hung back, waiting by the door.

  “Good morning, Jonas,” James said. “What are you making?”

  “I’m trying to make a lariat,” Jonas said. “I’m not doing too well, though. My hands are too big for this kind of work.”

  Water dripped from the wet leather strips as they were tightly braided. James asked questions about the braiding process, while Jonas continued to work. When it was finished, Jonas coiled the lariat and laid it to one side.

  “Where did you learn to do that?” James asked.

  “I lived with the Cheyenne for a while,” Jonas said. “They taught me,”

  Jonas glanced over toward where Dalton stood in the shadows.

  “Dalton, didn’t you say you lived with the Crow for a while?” Jonas asked.

  “No,” Dalton said quietly. “I said I was half Crow, on my mother’s side.”

  James watched the exchange between Dalton and Jonas with interest. He wasn’t sure why Dalton was being so secretive and distant. There was something going on between these two, but he couldn’t tell what. He decided to keep silent for now.

  “Jonas, we’re planning on leaving tomorrow,” James said. “You mentioned you had something for us before we left.”

  “Huh?” Jonas said, seeming distracted. “Oh, yeah, I do have something for you. I have a favor to ask too.”

  “What have you got?” James asked.

  “A map,” Jonas said, smiling. “But not just any map. This is a special map.”

  “Let’s see it,” James said.

  “I don’t have it with me,” Jonas said. “Meet me over at my place in an hour. I need to get cleaned up anyway. I’m beginning to stink like wet leather myself.”

  “We’ll see you in an hour,” James said.

  He and Dalton headed out the door and away from the shed. They walked several blocks, before James pulled Dalton off to one side.

  “What’s going on?” James asked. “You seem to have a problem with Jonas, for some reason.”

  Dalton looked at the ground for a few moments then back up at James.

  “When I lived with the Crow,” Dalton began. “They were constantly fighting the Cheyenne. When we weren’t fighting them, we were hiding from them. Mostly we hid from them. The Cheyenne are fierce in battle. The Crow had always been a peaceful tribe, and were certainly no match for the Cheyenne.”

  “What’s that got to do with Jonas?” James asked.

  “While I was with the Crow,” Dalton said. “There was a brutal killer that led war parties against Crow villages. He’d wait till the men went hunting, leaving the women and children alone. Then he’d attack the village. They’d torture and massacre the women and children. He’d display the bodies to terrify the men when they returned.”

  “What does any of this have to do with Jonas,” James asked.

  “The leader of these war parties was a large man. They said he could kill you with his bare hands. His Cheyenne name was Black Bear. It was Jonas.”

  “Are you sure?” James asked.

  “I’m sure enough,” Dalton said. “I saw him once from a distance. He’s someone you don’t soon forget.”

  ***

  The house Jonas lived in was very small. It wasn’t much bigger than the shed where he worked the leather. There was a small window in front, and a front porch. The house was easy to find. The two men walked up on the porch and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” Jonas called from inside.

  The inside of the shed was mostly bed. A small table sat off to one side and a large wood chair next to a wood stove. The place was spotless and smelled strongly of lye soap. James followed Dalton into the room, and looked around for a place to sit down. The three men filled the room.

  “Sit on the bed,” Jonas said.

  Once they were seated, Jonas pushed the table and chair over, and sat down across from them.

  “Sorry for the size of the bed,” Jonas said. “But I spent my whole life with my feet hanging over the end of my bed. So, when I moved in here, I decided to build a bed big enough for me to be comfortable. I may have over done it a bit.”

  “It’s certainly a large bed,” James said. “If you’d be more comfortable, Jonas, we could move on down to the rooming house.”

  “You said you had something for us?” Dalton asked.

  “Yes,” Jonas said. “I’ve got something for you, and a favor to ask.”

  Jonas bent down and looked for something under the bed. When he did, Dalton eased his revolver from its holster and laid it in his lap.

  Jonas sat back up with an old leather folder in his hands. The folder was cracked from age and covered with dust. Jonas laid the folder on the table and opened it carefully. Inside the folder were papers yellowed with age. He carefully pulled the papers from the folder and looked up at the two men across from him.

  “Some years ago,” Jonas said. “My brother and I lived with the Cheyenne for a period of time. It seems like it was in another life time. I fell in love with a girl named Soft Dove, and we were very happy, until she died in child birth. I couldn’t stand the loss, so I left the Cheyenne, and roamed around for a while.”

  Jonas looked over at Dalton, then back at James.

  “In my travels,�
� Jonas said. “I came to an old ruined city from before the Go Back. Since most people don’t really like going into these deserted ruins, I knew no one would disturb me. I decided to spend the night. I rode down the silent streets. The wind whistled through the empty window frames. I got to tell you, even I was a little spooked.”

  Dalton leaned forward, his chest against the table. No one saw the gun move from his lap, now pointed at Jonas stomach under the table.

  “It was almost dark,” Jonas said. “So I started gathering wood and dried grass for a fire. I moved a large chunk of concrete and found this folder underneath. Inside were these maps.”

  “Maps of what?” James asked.

  “For one thing,” Jonas said. “It had a map of the Canadian River Watershed.”

  “Have you ever heard of it?” James asked turning to Dalton.

  “I think so,” Dalton said never taking his eyes off Jonas. “It starts clear up in Colorado on the east side of the Rockies. It runs through New Mexico, Oklahoma and eventually into the Arkansas River.”

  “That’s the one,” Jonas said. “Based on the scale of the map, the river looks to be over nine hundred miles long.”

  “How come I never heard of it?” James asked.

  Jonas looked at James with a confused look on his face. He wasn’t sure how to answer that question. Dalton continued to watch Jonas.

  “I don’t know,” Jonas said, smiling. “I suspect there’s a lot about the west, you people from back east don’t know. I think it was named by some French explorers way back when, who must have been really drunk or lost. Maybe they were both. Anyway, I thought you could use the map, since it shows you the way clear out to the Crow territory.”

  “Jonas?” Dalton asked. “How much do you know about the Crow?”

  “I know a little,” Jonas said. “Why?”

  Dalton move his thumb to the hammer of the gun, still pointed under the table at Jonas.

  “I’m just wondering,” Dalton said. “Have you ever heard of a Cheyenne warrior named Black Bear?”

  Jonas started to stand and thought better of it. He held his hand up in the air and smiled at Dalton. Dalton pulled back the trigger of the gun. In the silence of the room, the only sound heard was Click, Click.

  Chapter 8

  “Easy on that trigger,” Jonas said. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

  “I’m listening,” Dalton said. “But not for long. When I went to live with my mother’s people, the Crow,” Dalton said. “There was a butcher they called Black Bear. He led raiding parties for the Cheyenne. He led the group who massacred my mother and father.”

  “I know who you mean,” Jonas said. “It wasn’t me.”

  “That seems like an awfully big coincidence,” James said.

  “Not in this case,” Jonas said. “Black Bear was my brother.”

  “He was your brother?” Dalton asked.

  “My twin brother,” Jonas said.

  “Jonas, maybe you should start from the beginning,” James said. “You better make it good.”

  Jonas sat staring at the two men across the table from him. He doubted he could take Dalton in a fair gunfight. Of course, Jonas didn’t fight fair. The last thing he wanted to talk about right now was his past. He had to buy some time.

  “It’s a long story, James,” Jonas said. “I think everyone needs to hear it. Can you wait till in the morning, after breakfast?”

  “Dalton?” James asked. “Is that alright with you?”

  “Sure, I can wait,” Dalton said, slipping his revolver into its holster. “I hope it’s a good story.”

  “It is,” Jonas said. “It surely is.”

  ***

  The dogs ran at a steady pace. They knew they weren’t putting any distance between them and their pursuers. The Cheyenne had been chasing them for a day and a night. They showed no sign of giving up the chase, any time soon.

  At sunrise, Jake, Luther, and Jezebel stopped on top of a wooded rise, waiting for the younger dogs to catch up. They’d been running all night, trying to put some distance between them and their pursuers. Now that it was morning, they knew they were in trouble. The other dogs, some little more than pups, were having difficulty maintaining the pace. They were the reason the Cheyenne were able to maintain their pursuit.

  We should not have killed those people, Jezebel said.

  We had no choice, Luther said. They captured three young ones and were going to kill them.

  The village knew they were ours, Jezebel said. Their Shaman referred to us as the Dog People.

  What do you think he meant? Jake asked.

  He knew we were different, Jezebel said. The Shaman knew we were more than just dogs.

  That seems right to me, Luther said. We are now the Dog People.

  The young dogs cannot keep up, Jezebel said. We need to do something.

  I sense the Colters are close, Jake said. I think we should find them. The young dogs are tiring and the pursuers are determined.

  You can’t reach Matthew, Jezebel said. I’ve tried to reach Shannon.

  The young dogs came running on to the rise, where the adult dogs waited. They were panting heavily. It was obvious to Jezebel they were doing the best they could, but they couldn’t run much farther.

  We need a diversion, Jezebel said. Jake and I will lay a trap for the Cheyenne. Luther, you take the younger dogs due south. I think that’s where you’ll find Matthew. Give the young ones a rest and then head out.

  No, Luther said. Jezebel should go south. Jake and I will ham string the horses and slow them down. Besides, I don’t interact well with humans.

  Luther and Jake headed back in the direction of the pursuers. It was full light when they heard the Cheyenne making their way slowly through the deep underbrush. Jake could tell the Cheyenne were not happy, from the grumbling talk he could hear.

  ***

  The woman and a girl who cleared off the breakfast dishes were obviously related. They had the same hair, dress, and resemblance. Once the tables were cleared, the family sat waiting for Jonas. His demeanor was serious, when he entered the room. He poured himself a cup of coffee, before turning to the Colter group. Jonas cleared his throat.

  “Do any of you know where the Sangre de Cristo Mountains are located?” Jonas asked.

  They all shook their heads no.

  “Well, they are the southern end of the Rocky Mountains,” Jonas said. “Their name translates to ‘The Blood of Christ’. They were named that probably because of their reddish color. They run from southern Colorado into New Mexico.”

  Jonas looked across the table. Everyone, especially James and Dalton, were listening closely to what he said. He could tell Dalton was still skeptical.

  “We all know about the great Go Back, don’t we?” Jonas asked.

  Everyone shook their heads yes.

  “I think I know what caused it,” Jonas said. “My Great Grandpa was a guard at the Los Alamos complex, located just northwest of Santa Fe, New Mexico. Everything I’m about to tell you, is what he passed down to the rest of us, and he swore it was the truth.”

  “Go ahead,” James said.

  “There was a little stupid country in Asia somewhere, which shot off four missiles at us for no apparent reason. They came in over the North Pole and we shot down the first three. The fourth got through. It was something my great grandpa called an EMP. Apparently this type of missile can knock out all electricity and ruin anything that uses it. It exploded over Denver.”

  “I’ve seen Denver,” Dalton said. “It didn’t look blown up to me.”

  “It wasn’t that type of bomb,” Jonas said. “It just stopped things from working. It took out everything west of the Mississippi. Things east of the Mississippi still worked. Great Grandpa said we retaliated, and took out much of Southeast Asia. But not before it triggered wholesale retaliation in Europe, Russia, the Middle East, and South America. Australia, and most of Africa, weren’t hit until later.”

  “As you all
know,” Jonas continued. “It was less than a year before everything stopped working everywhere, even out east. Except for a few places, people fell on each other fighting over the last scraps. It was a dark time. My Great Grandpa was one of the last to leave the Los Alamos site. At the end, he was the only one who knew the secret of the place.”

  “What secret?” James asked.

  “The bunker,” Jonas said. “It was a natural cave extended by the government. A strategic storage site designed to be used in case of a natural or manmade disaster. It was intended to house important people for up to two years.”

  “I assume it didn’t turn out well,” James said.

  “Not for the important people,” Jonas said. “They never showed up. Great Grandpa organized a bunch of the locals, along with their families. They lived there for twelve years.”

  “Why’d they leave?” Dalton asked, now interested in the story.

  “Great Grandpa died,” Jonas said. “My Grandpa Whit and his family decided to move out, after some of the other groups made them feel unwelcomed. There was a huge fight over leadership of the group. My daddy was the youngest son, and decided it was time to head north.”

  Jonas looked around the room at the small group gathered in front of him. The Colters seemed to be a nice family. Dalton seemed a bit touchy, but Jonas figured he probably had a reason. Both Shannon, and her mother Molly, were typical of the frontier women, Jonas had encountered. Strong and determined, they were the real force behind the family. Still, there was something this family was hiding from everyone. Something they knew about and no one else did. It was some sort of family secret.

  “We traveled north, for what seemed like a really long time,” Jonas said. “We stopped at the little town of San Luis, across the Colorado border. Counting uncles, cousins, and other family, there were sixteen of us at that time.”

  “My Daddy met with the people of San Luis. They were none too happy to see us camped out in front of their town,” Jonas continued. “Our being black didn’t bother them. It was that we were armed to the teeth. The town was located on the very edge of the Choctaw Nation. Now the Choctaw never bothered the people of San Luis. They only had two rules for the town.”