Chapter 5

Sun Hair leading his other horse sped from town. He knew the general direction that the attackers had taken from Wilkins and soon found their trail. Five riders at a fast gallop were easy to spot.

Sun Hair rode as fast as he could without caring too much about his mount. He planned to ride as hard as possible and catch up to the group. He would then switch mounts and let the winded horse loose. He knew that he held that advantage on the group. They had no remounts.

Thirty minutes into the pursuit, Sun Hair spotted the dust of the riders. Putting another 5 minutes hard riding in, he was able to cut the distance to his target. Then he halted his horses and switched mounts. Letting his other horse loose the pursuit resumed.

Soon after switching mounts Sun Hair could see his target again. Slowing his horse, he kept them in sight. He could see that they were having trouble. Their horses, having been rode hard, were unable to maintain the fast pace. It was then that they dismounted and started walking their horses. Sun Hair followed suit.

It was with a certain admiration when he saw what they did next. One of their party must have had some Indian experience. They cut sagebrush bundles and tied them to their horses. They were using the bundles to wipe out their trail. After 5 minutes they veered sharply to the right. And then 5 minutes after that veered to the right again. They were now heading south away from the Jackson ranch and towards the Arizona border.

For a week, Sun Hair tracked his quarry. They slowly continued traveling in a southern direction. When they arrived at the springs known as Las Vegas, as he expected, they stopped their travels. Sun Hair watched for several days. The fugitives took rooms at a local hotel and had their horses looked to at the local livery. Their evenings were spent gambling and drinking.

Sun Hair knew that he couldn’t follow any further than where he was. Further south and he would be in Apache and Comanchero lands. And while the countryside was United States territory, Mexican bandits were known to cross the border looking for cattle to steal and herd south. And some white bandits did the same raiding south into Mexico for cattle. All said this was unsafe territory for a Shoshone Indian blond hair or not. Reluctantly Sun Hair decided he needed to head for his own lands. He would leave it up to the tribal council to decide what to do.

Crossing into lands controlled by the pony riders, Sun Hair watched a patrol of their riders. Putting himself in their path, he waited for their approach. He was happy that this patrol was being led by a member of the clan that the Shoshone had started calling the owls. These were the warriors that had gained the admiration of the various warrior clans with their tracking abilities. They were said to be as good as the Shoshone in finding their quarry.

Sun Hair was startled when a rider appeared close in on his right side. He had not seen or heard the rider’s approach. Turning to the rider, Sun Hair raised his right hand.

“Well, now boy, you seem to be a bit off your range. Who are you and what are you up to out here? and why are you dressed up as a Shoshone?”

Sun Hair had learned some English. Red Hawk, and Waiting Lion had encouraged all of the warriors to learn. Hoping that the pony rider would understand him, he replied, “I am Sun Hair of the Shoshone Bear clan. I am a friend of the pony riders. I have met Loud Bear. He is my friend.”

“Damn boy, I know who you are. You’re that white Indian what was tracking Billy Jackson and his gang.” Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the patrol was rapidly approaching. Using the only word of Shoshone that he knew, the Trooper raised his right hand, grinned, and said, “Friend.”

Sun Hair relaxed if there had been any danger it had passed. He had been recognized as a friend.

That day the pony rider leader and Sun Hair spent long and sometimes difficult hours communicating. The basic ideas were still put across using sign language and drawing pictures in the sand. The main point was that Sun Hair would report to his tribe, and a conference would be called for the tribe and pony riders. It was agreed that this message needed to be delivered as soon as possible.

A week later, a group from the pony riders and representatives from the Shoshone council gathered at Council Butte. This was the largest meeting between the two groups that had ever been held. The leaders of all the clans and their senior warriors were in attendance. A group of the tribe’s medicine men had been in place for several days, purifying the land and dispersing evil spirits.

Not to be outdone, Colonel Anderson arrived with his command group, including the troop commanders. As a concession to the theatrical suggestion of Lieutenant Hobson, their arrival was heralded by a bugle fanfare that included both ‘She wore a yellow ribbon’ and ‘Garry Owen.’

Both sides had also provided a feast at each of their base camps. First on the menu was all of the Shoshone delicacies. The next day was a feast provided by the women’s auxiliary, which included fried chicken potato salad and corn on the cob.

At council, many things were discussed, not just Billy Jackson. A minor item on the agenda was a certain white Indian warrior. And what should be done with him. It was decided that Sun Hair would be sent to the pony riders and taught the ways of the riders. He would become the bond of their mutual friendship.

A week later, it was a quiet morning at the Hacienda. The regular calls for first assembly, sick call chow, second assembly, had all happened without incident or disruption. It was a normal day. The various work parties had been assigned their duties and were beginning another boring morning.

Suddenly the tower guard started ringing the alarm bell. The guard mount turned out and took positions on the wall. The gates in the central plaza were closed and braced. As was the headquarters entrance. The Regimental sharpshooter platoon on duty took up their positions in the high tower. The glint of scope mounted rifles showed their readiness. The quick reaction force at the backside of the Hacienda headquarters formed and prepared to depart from the hidden rear doors of the Hacienda. All of these events happened independently of the other and were completed inside of 15 minutes.

The main gate, surprisingly to the uninitiated, remained open and inviting. To those in the know, The parade ground was a well-planned killing zone. At first glance it was a meeting place for friends, family, and ambassadors. A showplace for parades and celebrations. It wasn’t until the belligerent entered, and the gates closed that their folly was apparent. Surrounded by manned defensive positions, there were no safe havens for the attacker. Occupying the high ground and backed up by the sharpshooters in the high tower, any invader would quickly be decimated.

Today, however, was not an invasion of a conquering army. Today was the arrival of a semi-famous person. From 3 points of the compass 3 or 4, gaudily painted Indian warriors sprang from hidden gullies and arroyos racing hell-bent for leather they streamed into the main plaza, war whoops and screams sounding. They circled the plaza, gradually tightening their ring. Until they formed a tight circle on the center. Each of the riders began reaching out with their coup sticks and striking the rider in their center. A blond-haired youth dressed like the rest in paint and a loincloth. He calmly accepted all of this. Suddenly the riders halted and drew up their horses.