New-wappy Teah (part two)
Just cresting a distant rise, a dozen painted warriors thundered toward them. Shrieking the high pitched cry of attack and shaking weapons held high above their heads, each man leaned far forward on his mount and hammered his animal’s sides.
Ceremonial dress forgotten, Te-ah leapt into action. Mind whirring, her long legs covered the ground between the grove of trees and her families wicki-up.
The Utes had waited until the most of the Piaute warriors had left to hunt, knowing that only young boys and old men would be left to protect the camp. The hunting party would hear the sounds of attack and come quickly. But they had no horses. They would be too late.
Te-ah hiked up her skirt almost to the top her thighs and ran hard.
All about her, chaos reigned. Dogs barked, babies cried and women dashed about the camp screaming names of missing children. A young mother grabbed a naked toddler by the belt she had tied about his waist for such a purpose and ran for the trees. The little one screamed as he swung to and fro but his mother was able to move swiftly, even with a toddler dangling in one hand and a small infant in the other.
Te-ah darted around them and picked up speed as she neared her family’s wiki-up. There would be no hiding in the trees for her. With most of the able bodied men away on the hunt, she knew well what she must do. Today she would, indeed, fight like a man. It was left to her to defend the camp and her family as her father would have done had he been there.
Though her friends had laughed at her passion to excel with the bow and arrow, she hoped that today it may save their lives. Her only thought was to retrieve them from her wiki-up and use them with strength and accuracy against the frenzied warriors galloping full speed into their camp.
Among the men left to protect the camp she spotted her grandfather. He hobbled forward, attempting to run on legs crippled by age, a long spear held high in his hand. At his side ran Pow-inch (Beaver) her younger brother, his eyes wild with fear.
Te-ah’s breathe caught in her throat. Pow-inch had only ten summers. How horrible if this was to be his last.
Her grandfather’s eyes caught hers as she ran past him and he turned to call out, “Hide quickly. They are too many.”
But Te-ah shook her head and sprinted the last few yards toward her wiki-up where found her mother hurrying out of the door. With one hand, the older woman pushed Te-ah’s bow and arrows toward her, while with the other, she reached down to swoop up Cam-mo, (black tailed rabbit) Te-ah’s younger sister.
Their eyes met for the briefest of moments, a hundred words passing between them in the splinter of time that would be their last together. Then they both were gone. As her mother ran desperately toward the trees, papoose board on her back and wailing Cam-mo clutched to her chest, Te-ah turned to face the fast approaching enemy.
Arrows were already flying and several men from the tiny group of defenders fell to the ground. Te-ah watched in horror as a grotesquely painted warrior astride a black and white horse detached himself from the group and rode straight at her grandfather and Pow-inch.
Without even breaking stride, she reached back, withdrew an arrow, notched it and let it fly. It whirred through the air and imbeded itself in the Ute warrior’s chest just as his tomahawk came down on her grandfather’s head. When her second arrow hit the Ute, he was already dead.
Like a stone dropping from a ledge, the painted warrior toppled from his horse, and landed heavily on top of the old man, pinning him to the ground.
Not fully understanding what had happened, Pow-inch jumped on the warrior, knife in hand. But as his blade penetrated the dead Indians back, he was lifted off his feet by the strong arms of another painted warrior. With a mighty sweep of his arm the fierce looking brave dragged the boy, kicking and screaming, onto his own horse with him.
Close enough, now, to see the ugly sneer spread across the man’s painted face, Te-ah did not dare to shoot another arrow for fear of hitting her brother. Instead she ran straight at him, her own knife fisted and slashing wildly.
Both hands occupied with a struggling ten year old. The warrior could only kick at Te-ah. On the third slash her knife found its mark, slicing through the Ute’s leather leggings and deep into the flesh of his thigh. Blood spurted out, drenching her hand and the horses flesh as the brave screamed and kicked at her.
Te-ah grabbed the Ute’s horse by the bridle strap and raised her arm to strike again. But before her hand could come down a second time she was jerked away by strong arms.
She twisted to find, not one but three Utes attempting to restrain her.
“I will die before I let you take me,” she screamed as she slashed at them with her knife, feeling it sink into flesh again and again. Near blind with rage, now, and she rammed her knee into groins and jabbed her elbows into ribs. Her knife slashed a face from ear to chin and her teeth severed an ear. Still, they came at her, more warriors entering the struggle until there were half a dozen or more.
Once they had knocked her knife to the ground, they grabbed her hands and tied them together with leather strips. Still she kicked and jabbed with her elbows. Again and again her teeth found soft flesh and the taste of blood filled her mouth.
But when, at last, they succeeded in tying her feet, she was almost helpless. The large Ute whose face she had cut with her knife, threw her onto his horse and tied her hands and feet together with a leather strip that extended under the horse’s belly.
One look at her grandfather crumpled body lying bloody and broken on the ground, however, sent a fresh wave of fury through her body and soul. With all the strength she could muster, Te-ah jammed her knees into the animal’s soft belly while she hammered his ribs with her laced fists on his oposite side.
The animal reared and then started to buck. Te-ah’s body slammed back and forth several times before sliding beneath the horse’s belly. The last thing she saw before the world went black was two powerful hooves flying toward her tethered body.
(to be continued)
thestorygodmother 