Wolf Mountain Moon by Terry C. Johnston Read Free Book Online Page A

faint rustle of the wind through the bare branches of the cottonwoods outside his smoke-blackened lodge. An infant crying. An old woman keening softly as her man slipped beyond into death. He listened to these sounds ofhis people before he listened to what he knew rested in his heart—put there as a gift from the Great Mystery.
    â€œNow that so many have disobeyed
Wakan Tanka,
” he sighed, “our fate is sealed. We will be driven before the winds like the down of the cottonwood tree. Without a home in our own land.”
    â€œBut we can hunt the buffalo that will make us a strong people once again!” Gall cried out in growing despair, his face flushed in anger. “These soldiers cannot follow us for all of winter!”
    Quietly the Bull replied, “Bear Coat’s walk-a-heaps do not need to hunt buffalo to survive as we do. They carry what they need in their many wagons. Because of that they can follow us right on into the winter—giving our warriors little time to hunt, our women no time to dry meat and scrape hides.”
    â€œWe can gather the bands once more and be strong as we were in the summer moons. We can defeat these soldiers!” Gall screamed in sheer desperation, his eyes glistening.
    â€œOnce we could defeat all those
wasicu
soldiers, yes,” Sitting Bull admitted dolefully. “When we did as
Wakan Tanka
told us to do—He was on our side. Now some small Lakota chiefs have even sold away our sacred hills, the He Sapa. * Now it hurts my heart to see how many of the people in this camp have turned their backs on the Great Mystery and robbed the soldier dead. They are so proud of their trophies that they forget my warnings!”
    Lame Red Skirt pleaded with the Hunkpapa mystic, “What are we to do now that so many turned their faces away from the right?”
    â€œWithout the Great Mystery to help us,” Sitting Bull said gravely, as quietly as the crackle of the cottonwood fire at their feet, “we will be driven before the wind for the rest of our days.”
    â€œBut, General,” Simon Snyder groaned, “Bruguier’s a wanted man!”
    Miles turned from the captain of F Company and lookedat the half-breed as he said, “So what say you, Johnny? Will you come work for me and the army?”
    Bruguier’s eyes narrowed. “You know the white man wants to hang me—”
    â€œGeneral,” Captain Edmond Butler protested, “this is the very man who was helping that outlaw Sitting Bull make a fool of you during your parley with the Sioux at Cedar Creek! This breed’s nothing more than an opportunist who will tell you anything you want to hear—then abandon us at his first opportunity!”
    â€œPerhaps even betray us to his Sioux brethren!” Snyder cried.
    â€œHush! All of you!” Miles snapped. “What think you, Kelly? Can I trust this man?”
    Luther Sage Kelly turned from staring out the window at the swirling snow kicked up by the wind blustering past the small cabin where Nelson Miles had taken Johnny Bruguier for a conference that Friday morning, the seventeenth. He regarded the half-breed a moment longer, then said, “The way I see it, General: both of you have something the other needs.”
    â€œPoppycock!” scoffed Frank Baldwin.
    Aide-de-camp Hobart Bailey snorted, “What does this redskin have that General Nelson A. Miles could possibly need?”
    â€œInformation on Sitting Bull and the rest of the roaming Sioux,” Kelly replied, stepping between members of the colonel’s staff to move closer to Miles.
    â€œI have no doubt of that,” Miles said before any of his officers had a chance to sputter their protests. “So, tell me, Kelly—what do I have that Bruguier needs?”
    Luther gazed at the half-breed’s dark face, those flintlike eyes gazing back at him evenly, without betraying what might lie behind them. “To begin with,