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Copyright© 2010 by Kingkey

Chapter 8

When I awoke, I was still disoriented. Had what I seen in the sweat lodge been right, or was I just dreaming? I'm not religious, but whatever it was I had seen, it seemed to answer most of my questions about what I was doing here. I went to find Grandpa and found him sitting with Red Cloud.

I approached them and asked, "Uncle Henry, can we walk and talk some?"

Getting up, he followed me down by the river. I tried to ask him about what I had seen in the sweat lodge and found that I couldn't say anything about it. Puzzled as he saw me apparently fumble for words, he asked, "What's wrong?"

I replied, "I was going to ask about the things I saw in my dream, but somehow I can't ask anything."

"There's something about spirit dreams. They are personal and can't be shared. To each person they are described to, the images mean different things. Now, without telling me what was actually in the dream, describe to me what you think it means to you."

"What I understood is that I was brought here to help both the Indians and the white man with my medicine, and by bringing justice, using my law enforcement background. I also gathered that I don't need to worry about changing the future because as we make changes, reality will branch and leave the future I came from safe.''

Grandpa looked thoughtful. "Hmmm ... We weren't so far off after all. Based on what we already talked about, that sounds about right."

I would have liked to talk about it in more detail, but about that time we heard a commotion back in camp and went to see what was going on. When we got there we saw that a fairly large group of about 35 warriors had ridden up in front of Red Cloud. Somehow, I just knew their leader was Crazy Horse.

We were moving closer to see what was going on when some of the braves noticed us and started to advance toward us menacingly.

Red Cloud shouted, "STOP! You don't treat a guest that way!"

Crazy Horse replied, "Guest? Since when is the white eyes the guest of the Lakota? I see Hawk, but who is this other white eyes you call guest?"

Red Cloud explained, "That is Dirty Hand. You played with him as a boy."

Crazy Horse replied, "That was a long time ago. He is not a boy now. Where has he been?"

"He has been in army and now is white man's medicine man. He helped Running Deer when she broke her arm."

"What is he still doing here?"

"He is marrying Running Deer and Little Doe today."

This caused quite a commotion amongst the new arrivals and one brave suddenly ran off, away from the others. In a few minutes I saw him dragging Little Doe away from the lodge she shared with Running Deer.

Angered that he would treat any woman like that, and especially one of mine, I didn't think, I just reacted. I ran over to him and spun him to the ground. As he fell he released Little Doe, allowing her to scamper to safety.

My new enemy jumped back up and pulled a knife on me, but I was ready for him. I waited for his first lunge then batted it away, and stepped inside his reach. Following through, I hit him straight in the nose, breaking it. The resulting blurring of his vision made it hard for him to see. Then, still holding his knife arm, I levered it forcing him to either drop the knife or I would break that arm.

He dropped the knife, but I kept the hold on him, only releasing it, and him, when a visibly angry Red Cloud shouted, "ENOUGH!"

Speaking directly to the brave, he demanded, "Why you dishonor my camp this way?"

"Little Doe belong to me. Want her for my wife."

"Little Doe don't want to marry you. She tell you no many times.

"Little Doe and Running Deer belong to Dirty Hand. Him traded fair for them and take as true wives today."

"I fight for them."

"Did fight. Lost."

"Not let her marry white eyes. Will die first. We fight for her!"

Red Cloud was obviously very angry, but after a slight pause where I could almost see the wheels turning, he frowned and nodded. I suddenly realized there was more politics to being a Chief than most people ever imagined.

I was pretty sure I understood what was happening, but I looked at Grandpa for an explanation anyway.

He shrugged and said, "Looks like you're going to have to fight him. He has already lost face so he has to try to kill you. See if you can't give him a sound whipping without killing him, but remember – he will be trying his best to kill you – so, if you have to kill him to stay alive, do it – no one here will hold it against you, and actually expect it."

Without any further discussion, the two of us were manhandled unceremoniously to a large area where we were surrounded by all the braves in camp, their bodies acting as the barriers of our 'ring'. We were prepared for our fight by having our left arms joined by a 6-foot piece of rawhide leather tied to our wrists. Then we were each handed a knife.

I quickly checked the balance and 'feel' of the knife in my hand and settled into a 'ready' position, prepared to fight for my life. My opponent did likewise.

Red Cloud checked to ensure we were indeed both ready, then shouted, "Start!"

Almost by unspoken agreement, we each drew up some slack in our tether until we were just barely within arm's reach then we started to slowly circle each other, flicking our knives at each other, thrusting and parrying – testing – trying to feel out the other's weaknesses.

My opponent didn't just rush in, like last time – this was for keeps this time, and he was very aware of that fact. Neither of us wanted this to drag out, but neither did either of us want to make a fatal mistake by moving too quickly, either. With that in mind, hoping to use his arrogance against him, I suddenly took a quicker step, and faked a stumble.

In his conceit, thinking he was so much better than a mere 'White Eyes', the fool fell for it, and thinking to end me quickly, rushed in, trying to catch me while I was still off-balance. Surprise! He had done exactly as I wanted and expected, so I was prepared and waiting.

As he committed to his lunging attack, I countered by stepping to the side and sharply swung my elbow up hard into his nose. Already broken from our first encounter, it started to bleed profusely again, blurring his vision again. Trying to put a quick end to it, I then swung around behind him, using the mechanical advantage of the rawhide thong and secured us together by wrapping it tightly around his neck, cutting off his wind. I completed the move by bringing my knife to his throat, holding it there and drawing a thin trickle of blood to emphasize that he was thoroughly defeated.

I looked over to Red Cloud as he watched my antagonist's total defeat. He made a slashing motion across his throat and, obviously disgusted, declared, "Finish it!"

I held my prisoner for a minute then, as I moved my knife away from his exposed flesh, I said, "I give you back your life."

I cut the rawhide thong joining us from my wrist and turning, started to walk away. I had only taken a few steps when I heard the sound of footsteps running toward me, then a gun shot. When I stopped and turned around to look, I saw Crazy Horse standing there, holding a smoking rifle and the brave I had just fought lay dead on the ground.

I gave Crazy Horse a questioning look. He shrugged and said, "He coward with no honor. After surrender, he try to stab in back."

I thanked him but he just shrugged again and turned away. I understood that although he didn't like the white man he was still a man of honor, and expected his braves to also behave with honor.

The source of this story is Finestories

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