Chapter 7

Almost 40 miles east of Wyoming Territory borders and nestled firmly on the Dakota Territory side of the New Attica border the town of Henry was a focal point for white folk navigating their way westward--most especially ones whose eyes beheld New Attica feverish for gold.

The little town had been intended as a stop for the Great Lakes-Dakota Railroad Company, a stop that pushed them farther into that part of the West than any other line in the country. But this hadn't happened. Instead it was a waypoint for Custer's expedition into New Attica, and when the expedition turned up gold Henry suddenly became a crowded place.

This suited Hassidius Drake just fine. He owned and operated the Diablo Saloon. He owned stakes in the town, lots and plots and acres of land with funds accrued after years of good business sense and sometimes extralegal acquisitions and divestments. There was quite a bit of happenstance involved as well, but that part nobody knew about.

Jean Molet, a second generation French-American with a Dutchman's flow of wavy brown hair and a Norweigan's ivory face and Drake's most trusted confidant and ally came riding onto Glory's Dawn ranch, not more than six to seven miles west of Henry, with the news of the sudden gold rush, thinking his leader would be agitated. Instead he found Drake in high spirits.

Whilst workers trooped across his expansive ranch of 300 head cattle, 75 sheep and 40 hogs sweating and beating and grinding underneath an evening sun of heady oppression Drake watched on from the veranda of his home, chortling with an enterouge which included such fine philanderers and gunslinging outlaws as Sebastian Tick and Julius Rice over some paltry joke of Drake's, and coming upon this scene Jean pulled up on his pony and plopped down, jingling and jiggling with the numerous pieces straps studs and belts he wore, beating the inside of his sweaty hat with a balled fist and biting his lower lip.

"I been to Henry Sid, and it swarms with locusts!"

Drake was weary and petulant from his day trip into New Attica's hills and had treated his afternoon and evening as one of leisure and measured grace. In time he would figure out a reprisal for his old friend Panther Sprung. He heard Jean and watched him approach the steps of the veranda. "Someone put a bottle in that man's fist right now," he said.

Jean replaced the hat on his head and took what was handed to him--a greenish bottle of cheap bourbon. "Shit," he sneered after a swallow. He waved the bottle about and somebody came and took it. To get the taste out of his mouth he stuck a wad of chew into his cheek. "Anyway, you hear me Sid?"

"I heard you."

"It's in all the papers," said Julius Rice. The man's dark skin and angular, muscular build made him like a Greek hero. His black mustache and wide-brimmed velvet hat bellied the fact he was completely bald on top. "Everyone and his momma knows bout New Attica's gold."

"If Henry is swarming, soon so will New Attica. I make my point," sighed Molet.

"And he rests his case..." Drake muttered softly.

"...and I rest my--ok!" Molet couldn't help but laugh a little with everyone else.

Tick, a former bushwhacker and militiaman, was in fact half native like Drake. He said he was half Cree and could speak it. Unlike Julius, Tick was hardly around the ranch or even the territory, preferring instead the settlements and country land to the northeast: Minnesota, Wisconsin and sometimes as far as East Andrea.

He was old and blonde and nothing but a cuss, in Molet's opinion.

"I was telling Drake he ought to make some sort of a deal with the Army," Tick told Molet. "If he has any goddam sense he'll listen to me."

"I got sense enough not to listen to you, if that counts," Drake said, taking his turn with the bottle, finishing it, and demanding another. "We find ourselves in a pretty position, fellas. By the end of the year the Army will take New Attica, that we cannot prevent. But we will have every opportunity, once the Army leaves with the Ixopaw and the miners are left to their lonesome, to collect on their dreams and labors. That is my land, just as well as Panther's or anybody else's. If Henry wants to become a cesspool of gold diggers and prostitues so be it--let's double our riches! We have only to sit back and wait for the good things to happen."

Molet turned and looked out around the ranch. He heard Mexicans calling out in Spanish and watched as the foreman Gutierrez began flogging a younger man in the dirt against the setting sun. Behind him Drake and Tick laughed.

"Such a sadist, that Miguel is," said Drake. "Really I ought to call the day and let em drink a bit. Perhaps that will incite a brawl."

"You just threw a tournament couple a nights ago," Julius said.

"It ain't the same when I'm paying em to fight. It's much bloodier when they fight for pride."

"Who's the fucking sadist?" replied Julius Rice and everyone laughed.

Except for Molet. "You pricks are depressing," he said. "Tick, what are you doing back here anyway?"

"Drake wrote me. Said things was going to turn. Wanted my gun, he did."

Drake nodded. "Same as always. Why else would I keep you depraved no-accounts hanging around? We're going to be busy in the coming weeks. Glory's Dawn will need looking after."

"I'm your man, Sid," Tick said. "What about you, Frenchie? Ain't you got errands to run now, dog?"

"This fucking animal," Jean waved him off, and they laughed at that too.

"They'd be no more wars if Man had half the sense Molet does," Julius jested.

"In fact," added Drake, "I believe we'd still be discovering the wheel."

Beneath their laughter Molet grumbled his retort for none to hear: "We are always discovering the wheel."

Evening flared in the west. The clouds above New Attica and Kuroctu were pink and orange. Panther Sprung sat before his fire in a sort of meditation. He did what he could to keep thoughts of Drake out of his head, but it wasn't quite enough.

He wanted for the wisdom of his old love, the woman Tahcawin, his wife. He had been a great fighter when she lived. She had breathed life into him and then given him a daughter. Little Rose, Ojinjintka. Ah, as they graced his thoughts he prayed to them, and he saw them. His wife came and sat across from him, holding her necklace of beads. Ojinjintka appeared in his lap, her spirit as childsmall and innocent as she was in life. They sang to him, and he wept a little, then he sang. He sang of his constant worries, about his hope for New Attica. They listened to him with sad, contemplative grimaces. Soon after he finished, they disappeared in the smoke from his fire.

"May I disturb you?" asked a voice outside, his "daughter" Black Heart. But she was no Ojinjintka.

Panther, with pink eyes, brought out his pipe and began to pack it. "Ah, Chante Sapa. Tanyan yahi."

The young woman came through wearing ceremonial calfskin robes and jewels in her hair which was as alive and dark as water. She saw him and expression and looked embarrassed. She spoke to him in Lakota, which the Ixopaw had been using for some time. "Naomi of the Stars has become Robe Whispers of the Ixopaw. She wants to be a medicine woman, and tells me she begs the White Buffalo Woman every night to make it so."

"Then she may well have it," said Panther, also in Lakota. "I hear, by the way, that you had the pleasure of meeting Sid Drake this morning."

"The White Ixopaw? I did see him. And I spoke with him. He is a fighter, is he not?"

Panther drew on the pipe and blew out. He stared at the movements of the flames of his fire, his long face hovering over them as a kind of lost god. "That is why he scares me. You would be wise to avoid him, daughter."

Black Heart hid her face from him by turning aside. "Oh, I shall. I have little interest in his ways. My friends say he has many things, but he does not have love."

"He is a troubled soul," Panther said, trancelike, gazing still into the fire. "I'll save you..." he whispered, seeing his wife and first daughter somewhere within.

Black Heart glanced at him and sighed. "So you spoke with the scouts in the East today?"

"At Coyote's Watch. They had not seen anything yet. I have little doubt the Army will be back in the coming weeks. A size tenfold. My hope is that we are disappeared when they return."

"Disappeared?"

"Yes. We will be but a memory in this place."

"This sacred place."

"Sac--why yes. But it is not ours. It is the Earth's. We cannot remain here."

"You would flee?"

"I would be forced to. Please, Black Heart, join me and relax. Your youth drives you mad and demands action. But your mind requires rest, as does your body. Have you eaten."

"Yes and I am relaxed. I mean to visit longer with my friends. I only meant to see that you are well."

"Ah. So be it. I am well."

"Yes. I shall see you in the morning, father."

Panther Sprung nodded as she knelt to kiss his cheek. Only after she went back out and he sat watching the fire a few moments longer, did he suddenly turn about blindly wondering what had become of Black Heart.