Chapter 18: The Fire Of The Unknown

For all of that day, they rode north through the grass and camped just east of Dupuyer, in the Butte Valley.

“Tomorrow, we will arrive at our home camp—just east of Browning—in the heart of the Blackfoot Piegan Reservation, Ichiban. I am sure that Stoneheart has arrived by now and has prepared the tribe for bad news regarding our disappearance.”

You Were Our Last Hope

“Hope springs eternal, Not-Many-Prisoners, when it is all you have left. With your help tomorrow, we will convince your People that the worst is behind us. The Blackfoot Piegan Nation will recapture its spirit, and we will unleash its fury upon the Siksika who have attacked in the dark and from behind.”

Not-Many-Prisoners liked the way Cutty used the words Us and We. “He is a man who goes beyond the smoke to the land of our Grandfathers,” he thought. “He has truly been sent from the great Kessuckquànd (Heaven), as the Old One has prophesied.”

With his saber and katana lying beside him, Cutty again offered thanks for being in the company of men with honor.

The Military Academy had been fine for what it was — “but a man’s true spirit could only be forged and replenished in the fire of the unknown.” He was once again at peace.

A Peace Only Proffered In Times of War



Chapter 19: The Backbone Of The World

Not-Many-Prisoners remained quiet during the long ride into the Blackfoot Piegan Camp. The reservation was located just east of the great mountains and stretched north to the Canadian border. Jimmy had told Cutty it was larger than the entire state of Delaware. “It is a big area for so few of us left,” Jimmy had said.

Cutty became overtaken by a feeling that he had not had since leaving Nepal. The grandeur of the mountains was filling his soul, and words again became useless in trying to describe their beauty. “No wonder the Indians fought so hard to preserve their homeland,” Cutty thought to himself. “Who wouldn’t rather die than leave this sacred place?”

As the sun disappeared behind the Livingston range, he could tell that Not-Many-Prisoners was worried. The Piegan Elder had been quiet all day, but when they passed a sign pointing toward Browning, he finally spoke: “We will be in Browning in less than an hour, Ichiban. Thirty minutes after that, we will enter the main camp of the Blackfoot Piegan Nation.”

Cutty wondered if he would be in trouble with The People for leaving Chief Stoneheart. He knew that Not-Many-Prisoners would have no say in the matter—even though he led the rustlers away from their small party. Cutty also knew that warrior societies had their own specific rules and regulations, and they often did not make sense to an outsider.

The Japanese Emperor had often told him: “Look not to the intellect for the truth you seek, My Son. Look instead—inside your heart—where fear is overcome by belief. Only there will you find the true warrior and the spirit and courage to win.”

As they passed through Browning, Cutty could feel the emptiness hidden in its dusty old streets. The buildings were drab, but more than that, there seemed to be an absence of life and a dispiritedness that hung over the town. It was nothing like any of those Tibetan towns that he rode through on his way to Kathmandu.

He Couldn’t Get Through Browning Quickly Enough

Passing the eastern border of the small town, Cutty began to hear drums in the distance. They were beating to a very slow cadence and seemed to dramatize the melancholy he already felt.

“They are the drums of sorrow, Ichiban. The People now fear we are dead, and their last hope of regaining the spirit of their Grandfathers has died with us. They will not believe what they see when we ride in through the dark.

“I would ask that you wait here, and let me ride in first to announce our presence. As you now know, proper introductions are very important to my People, and it is fitting that they hear of the things you have done before you arrive. Please rest here—by this small lake—I will be back by the time you have watered the horses.”

Not-Many-Prisoners dismounted and gave the reins of his horse to Cutty. Without another word he walked off into the darkness in the direction of the drums. It seemed like a long time had passed when Cutty heard the sound of the drums change. They now had a powerful energy, and he was sure their message (whatever it was) was reverberating off the great mountains to the west.

All At Once The Drums Stopped!

Cutty could hear voices, and lights seemed to be coming through the woods. It was then that he heard the voice of Stoneheart calling out to him from the trees ahead.

“Ichiban, the words of the Old One have come true. You are truly the savior of the Blackfoot Piegan People. Please enter our village as one who comes back to us—from before.”

Cutty had no idea what Stoneheart meant. “I’ve never been here before,” he said under his breath. “What could Jimmy have told them to make them greet me in this way?”

The lights ahead seemed to forge into one, and Cutty could see at least a hundred people walking his way carrying torches. They were also carrying something in their arms that he didn’t recognize.

“These are small offerings from the tribe in honor of your return,” said Stoneheart. “Not-Many-Prisoners told us about what you have done. It only adds to the stories that Lightfeather has already told about your many battles and triumphs. It has been a very long time since The Blackfoot Piegan Nation has been so honored by a visitor. Please allow us to formally welcome you again to our camp.”

Cutty was then offered a white horse to ride, but he insisted on walking with The People.

Chapter 15:  A Different Brand Of Justice

The horses had been bound together with a technique that Cutty had never seen before.  They had all been tied to a forty-inch branch that allowed them to move freely and graze without getting tangled.  It lowered down as they fed and then rose when their heads straightened back up.  

Cutty vowed to remember this for the future.  It provided for both security and a limited amount of mobility.  It had been invented by the Cheyenne and was used extensively throughout the southern plains. The Colonel had been right when he said: “The Native Americans are noted for their prowess in stealth and tactics.”

Cutty untied the horses from the branch, and—with three of the reins in his right hand and two in his left—started to walk them slowly toward the fire.

He knew his next move would be costly, but he needed to create as big a diversion as he could.  It would only leave five shots in his Colt, but the effect would be worth the bullet—at least that’s what he hoped.

                   He Reminded Himself About Hoping Again

The Colonel had warned Cutty repeatedly about “hoping.”  “Wishing for a certain outcome is not worth the mental effort you will put forth.  Keep your attention focused on the task at hand.  That will afford you the best chance of success.”

Cutty slapped the lead stallion on its **** as he fired his Colt up into the night sky.  At the report of the gunshot, all five horses took off toward the fire like they were being chased by the underworld God, Hades.  Entering the mouth of the ravine, there was not enough room for them to go around and avoid the fire.

                              They Charged Straight Through

The horses charged across the fire, as the five cowboys looked on in drunken horror.  There were smoke and flying embers everywhere.  Two of the cowboys at the far end stood up and tried to run but were trampled by the horses before getting very far.  The lead cowboy, Jack, managed to get to his gun—before leveling it in Cutty’s direction and firing.  

Cutty redrew his Colt while dropping to one knee.  He sighted his big .45 and fired before Jack could get off a second round.  The bullet went straight through Jack’s right shoulder—causing him to drop the big Peacemaker as he fell back away from the now scattered fire.  

Cutty picked up Jack’s gun and ran toward where Not-Many-Prisoners was tied.   As he cut his restraints, he handed him Jack’s gun saying: “There are five shots left in the cylinder.  Here’s six more rounds in case you run out.”

They both turned to face the startled cowboys who were now crawling through the dirt trying to make sense of it all.   With a KIAI that none of these rustlers had ever heard before, Cutty advanced.  One by one, he grabbed the men and threw them face down onto the dark ground.  He then yelled to Not-Many-Prisoners: “Tie them up with their hands behind their backs.  I’ll tie the one that I shot after I check on his wound.”

             The KIAI Had Been For Not-Many-Prisoners Benefit

Cutty checked on Jack’s shoulder.  It was bleeding profusely, but it was a clean wound, the bullet having missed any bone or cartilage as it passed through.  Cutty grabbed the bandana from around Jack’s neck—***** as it was—and wrapped his shoulder.  “This will help to stop the bleeding,” Cutty said.  “Keep pressure on it with your other hand.  It’s better than you deserve, but you might just live if you keep it from bleeding out before you get to a doctor.”

Jack had been staring at Cutty’s blouse as he doctored his wound.  “So, you some kinda government agent?” Jack asked, as Cutty started to walk away.

“I’m a Major in the United States Army, here to investigate charges that rustling has been taking place on government land.  I can see now that the rumors have been true.  In addition, you were getting ready to commit capital ******.  I am ordering you—and your men—to stay here until my detachment comes back to pick you up.

If you’re not here when they arrive, they will hunt you down like the wild dogs that you are. I need to get this Indian Scout back to headquarters. We know who you work for and what you’ve been doing.”

                          “You Are All Under Military Arrest”

Cutty tied Jack’s right hand to the top of his other arm. He knew he had just stretched the truth, but he wasn’t above doing that if a man’s life hung in the balance.  He looked across the scattered but still burning embers ...

Not-Many-Prisoners had a look on his face that Cutty had not seen from any of the Piegan Elders before.  El Cristo had been the first to look at him that way when he had mortally wounded his son, Elligretto, in Seville.  His expression transcended the present moment—as it acknowledged Cutty’s immortal warrior spirit.

Not-Many-Prisoners then ran into the darkness, in the direction that the horses had just gone. In less than ten minutes he was back with all five of them in tow.  “How was he able to find them in the dark, and to have done it so quickly?” Cutty wondered.  

Horses, when frightened or startled, will often run for miles without stopping.  He was sure when he fired that shot from his big Colt, those five had been both.  The Colonel’s assessment about Native Americans—a breed of men Cutty had only met once before in Abilene—rang true again tonight.

At West Point, the native cadets had been masked in eastern tradition, hiding the best parts of themselves.

Cutty Jumped On The First Horse As He KIAI’d Into The Darkness!!