Tomorrow we would make even more caltrops. We had sown the grass with needles, and they had yielded us a minor victory.
Something moved beside me. It was Itchakomi. “What is it?” she whispered.
I told her in whispers, and after a bit we fell asleep.
Morning came, bright and clear, and we were out looking over the grass. I saw my arrow lying some distance out. The first arrow had gone straight to its target and had evidently still been in the warrior when they carried him away.
Looking out over the valley that fell away to the west of us, but ran north and south, I thought again that we had come upon one of the most beautiful spots in the mountains, and here we would stay. Kapata might try, but he would neither kill me nor drive me from this place, nor would whatever others came, Indians or Spanish. I wished no trouble with either, but here I had found my home.
How long before others of my kind came west? There was much land still in the east, but there would always be some restless one, some wanderer who would want to see what lay beyond the Great Plains.
Our corn was coming up! Our first crop and if we could keep the deer from it we would have a bountiful harvest. We had found wild strawberries and raspberries. There were several other kinds of berries whose names we did not know, and there was other wild fruit. We would make pemmican, and we could dry some of the fruit.
We found blood upon the grass, blood where the man I had hit had fallen. Had I killed him? Or was he only wounded? It made little difference to us, yet I hoped he was only wounded—not from a sense of mercy, but simply because a wounded man would be a burden to them.
For those who had attacked me when I had done them no wrong I felt no mercy.
We had won a small victory, but Kapata was a wily man and a fearless one. He would be back.
Always there was the need for fresh meat. We had supplies within our fort, but they were intended for winter and if we ate them now the winter would be a starving time. Moreover, we had other enemies. The Komantsi were coming, sooner or later, and of course there was Gomez.
From a ridge a mile to our south I collected some silver and lead ore from an outcropping. That it was largely silver mattered little. Whatever the value of the silver might be, it was worth more to me in the shape of bullets.
Sulphur? Where was I to find sulphur? In some volcanic formation or perhaps a mineral spring. But where?
Keokotah returned from his hunt with three sage hens. He had found only old tracks of deer. Returning he had found moccasin tracks. They had come down from the east, keeping undercover until they had seen the skulls I had hung over the trail. There the tracks were confused.
“Much talk,” Keokotah explained. “Many track, much moving! Nobody like skulls!”
Again I went to look for sulphur, but also to hunt. I found nothing. Too many Indians were moving about, and the game had been frightened away, had gone to the higher mountains, where I must go. Some of the peaks were volcanic, and I might find sulphur.
The next day when Keokotah started out, two arrows came at him. One cut a small gash in his shoulder, but the other missed. And they let themselves be seen. The implication was plain. They would kill us if we emerged, or we would die of starvation if we did not.
“Your medicine strong,” Keokotah said. “The braves are far from home. He has not brought them victory. Soon they go.”
Well, maybe. But we were eating food we had planned to eat in the coming winter. Moreover, their presence and their hunting would drive the game to the high mountains and the far meadows, game we needed to survive.
“I am going out,” I said. “I am going after Kapata.”
I did not wish to go. I did not want to hunt and kill, but they were there, holding us close. I did not think they would attack our fort again, because of my medicine skulls and because of their experience with the caltrops, but neither could we hunt or gather food against the coming winter, and my people looked to me, their chief.
We were here because of me, and if when winter came we starved, it would be because of me. Other enemies might come, but now there was Kapata and he was our enemy, my enemy, and the enemy of my wife.
I was going after Kapata.
THIRTY-TWO
Thunder grumbled among the peaks when I went into the night to kill Kapata.
Itchakomi stood by the door when I walked out, and she said, “Come back, Jubal.”
I kissed her lightly and replied that I would, and indeed, I hoped to. Yet when a man walks out with weapons his life is suspended like dew upon a spider’s web, and well I knew the men I went against. Whatever else they might be they were warriors all, men who lived to fight and who found glory only in victory.
Catching a glimpse of a tall pine against the sky I chose my way with care not to tread upon one of my own caltrops in the darkness. When beyond the area where they lay I went softly into the wet woods and walked like a ghost from tree to tree, letting my moccasins test the way before resting my weight so as to break no stick in the night and give warning that I came.
We knew not their camp, only the possible location, so I must walk softly.
There had been a brief early shower, but now real rain was coming and soon the forest would be drenched. They would be keeping to shelter on this night, and their fire if not out would be dying.
For the first few minutes sight would be limited, but by the time I had been out an hour my night vision would be excellent. I circled wide, taking my time. If I surmised correctly, they would be near the mouth of the gulch. There was an area there where during a rain several small streams came down the mountain.
Before coming out from the fort I had gone over the route in my mind and had studied the possibilities for camping. They would want to be near water, of course. They would wish to be hidden, yet in a place easy of access. As I had gone in and out of the gulch a number of times when hunting or exploring I knew what their choices would be.
The place I chose to look was a small bench from which our fort would be visible by day. There was a seep nearby and a number of big, old trees. There was an overhang of rock, a sort of wind-hollowed cave that would provide shelter from the rain.
Moving carefully along a hillside I had once crossed in stalking a deer, I crouched in the trees to look over the bench. A small fire smoldered near the overhang and I could see the bunched bodies of sleepers.
The fire had been built where others before it had been, under a waterworn crack that allowed the smoke to escape, a sort of natural chimney in the rock.
The idea came gradually as I sat studying the layout. Not twenty yards from the cave a small stream trickled down among the rocks, its nearest approach to the cave being on a level with the top of the overhang. The stream veered off to the east, but the ground near it sloped to the west. At one time the stream must have flowed that way.
Why not again?
Easing back from my vantage point I went up the slope through the trees. Crouching in the darkness beside the stream I studied it and made up my mind. Keokotah was sure the Indians who had come with Kapata were losing their enthusiasm. Kapata had failed to give them the quick victory expected, and they had not taken the scalps they wanted. Maybe we could discourage them some more.
Following the trough where the stream had flowed in the long ago I came to its banks. What I had was just an idea. The stream was no more than two feet wide and perhaps a foot deep or less. As always there were fallen trees lying about. Choosing one, I upended it and tipped it across the stream. It fell with a splash.
Lifting another, I dropped it in the water alongside the first, making a crude dam. Instantly the water was diverted and started down its old channel. It ran along swiftly, dropped through the crack from which the smoke issued, and flooded the floor of the small cave.