Shaman Part 57

What a pleasure to have a bunch of Potawatomi right where he could do anything he wanted to them.

A light rain started to patter down on the bark roofs and the hard-packed earth.

While Raoul had been talking with the Indians, more militiamen had reached Prophet's Town. Columns of men on horseback, four abreast, came to a halt in the gra.s.sland to the south of the village and fell out at their officers' commands. They climbed off their horses and walked them.

Otto Wegner rode up and dismounted.

"General Atkinson is going to encamp the rest of the army outside Prophet's Town, sir," he said, giving Raoul his usual vigorous salute, nearly dislodging the big hunting knife sheathed in a pocket of his leather shirt.

Raoul returned the salute carelessly, went back to Banner and took another swallow from the whiskey canteen.

Surprising that Atkinson should decide to set up camp here, when the day was only half over. Well, Henry Atkinson had a reputation for going slowly. Raoul had heard from friends among the regular officers that Atkinson had already received a sharply worded letter from the Secretary of War in Washington City reprimanding him for not moving fast enough to crush the Indians.

_If I get a chance to take a crack at them I sure as h.e.l.l won't be slow._

The early arrivals already had their tents up. Officers' tents were of white canvas, six feet from the ground to their peaked tops. Enlisted men set up pup tents just large enough to cover two men lying down. Most men didn't bother to carry tents and slept out in the open, rolled up in the coa.r.s.e blankets they all carried.

Men were wandering through Prophet's Town peering into the lodges. They walked with slow caution, rifles ready.

Raoul watched Justus Bennett, in civilian life Smith County's land commissioner, ordering two privates in buckskins and c.o.o.nskin caps to put up a tent for him. Bennett was always trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. His packhorse carried his tenting, a big bag full of fancy clothes, and a couple of heavy law books. Why on earth a man would think he needed such things in the wilderness, Raoul had no idea.

"Bennett!" Raoul called. "Take charge of the guard on those Indians."

Bennett looked annoyed, but gave some final instructions to the men putting up his tent and slouched over to the four Indians. A round-shouldered man of slight build, he looked decidedly unmilitary, but he'd explained to Raoul that for anyone who wanted to get ahead in politics, a war record would be a G.o.dsend.

Raoul called out, "Levi, you leave off guarding the Indians and get my tent up."

A crowd of men had gathered in a circle around the Indians. Maybe they wanted to give the redskins a few licks of their own.

"Afternoon, Colonel."

Raoul was used to looking down at other men, but he had to look up, a little, at the man who addressed him. His skinniness was like Pierre's in a way, but this man was a heap uglier than Raoul's brother had been.

He looked like a half-starved nag.

_I'll bet he trips all over himself when he walks, and when he rides he drags his feet on the ground._

Raoul gestured to the seated Potawatomi. "You boys ever see Indians up close before?"

"The way you've got them trussed up and guarded, Colonel," said the tall man, "I'd say they must be pretty desperate characters."

Raoul heard the smile in the drawling voice and felt heat rising up the back of his neck. He took a closer look at the man. He couldn't be much over twenty, but he looked a well-worn twenty. A farmer's face, darkened by the sun. The gray eyes, set in deep hollows under heavy black brows, crinkled humorously. But Raoul saw cold judgment deeper in those eyes.

Like most of the volunteers, the tall man wore civilian clothes. His were gray trousers tucked into farmer's boots and a gray jacket over a blue calico shirt printed with white flowers. An officer's saber hung from a belt around his waist.

Raoul said, "Well, I reckon you signed up with the militia to fight Indians, so take a good look at your enemy."

The tall man walked around to stand in front of Little Foot, hunkered down and said, "Howdy."

Little Foot did not look back but gazed ahead with a blank face.

The lean man straightened up. "A mighty mean customer, sir."

Some of the other men in the ring around the Indians chuckled at this.

Even Justus Bennett snickered.

Raoul was feeling angrier and angrier. He had looked forward to questioning Little Foot and the other Potawatomi, looked forward to having them resist and to breaking their resistance down with fear and pain. He'd even hoped they might give him reason to shoot them. These strange militiamen were becoming a nuisance.

"You seem to think this is pretty funny. Who the h.e.l.l are you?" Raoul put a threat into his voice.

"I'm Captain Lincoln of the Sangamon County company, sir. We're with the Second Battalion."

Raoul let his gaze travel over the other Sangamon County men.

"Any of the rest of you able to talk?"

One man laughed. "When Abe's around we mostly let him do the talking."

"That so? If you let somebody else do your talking for you, he may talk you into a spot you won't like."

Abe said, "Oh, I always make sure I say what the men want said, sir."

That brought another laugh.

Raoul's anger at the Potawatomi found a new target in this bony volunteer. The heat of the whiskey raced through his bloodstream.

There was one simple way to show this upstart who was master here, and at the same time have his way with the redskins.

Raoul drew his pistol and hefted it in his hand.

The tall captain eyed Raoul warily and said nothing.

Raoul said, "I'm going to give this Potawatomi one more chance to tell me now where Black Hawk went, and if he disobeys me again I'm going to shoot him dead."

He stood before Little Foot and pointed the pistol at his head.

In Potawatomi he said, "Tell me what Black Hawk plans to do. Is he lying in ambush farther up the trail? Does he have a secret camp for his squaws and papooses? Tell me, or I will shoot you." Swinging the muzzle of the pistol to the man in the blue turban beside Little Foot, he said, "And then I will ask this man, and if he does not tell me, I will kill him too."

The bony young man said, "With all due respect to your rank and experience, sir, I must say that what you propose to do is wrong."

Raoul's rage threatened to boil over. Tension jerked his right arm. So as not to risk wasting a shot, he took his finger off the trigger.

In a mild but somehow penetrating voice the Sangamon man said, "I'll tell you why this is wrong, sir, if you'll allow me."

The man's politeness was infuriating. Raoul turned to him, letting the pistol fall to his side.

"Go on, Captain. Preach to me."

"If you had a white prisoner at your mercy, you would not shoot him because he refused to betray his comrades. You would think it honorable in him to answer your questions with silence. But this red man is a human being with the same G.o.d-given right to his life that you and I have."