Chapter 25
You Can’t Count On The Wasichus To Help
On his way to meet the army patrol and the next wagon train entering the Wyoming Territory, Yellow Hair decided to head toward the Brule Reservation to see his friend Little Elk. He stopped on the outskirts of Bosler at a roadside inn and hobbled Kodah in a stand of trees. He pulled down his water bag and poured water into a deerskin pouch and secured it around her muzzle. She drank greedily and he felt bad for not thinking of her needs sooner. He opened the feed sack and laid out some grain on the ground. Taking a sip of water, he removed the deerskin pouch from Kodah’s muzzle and walked toward the roadside inn. The street in front was muddy from the recent rain and the wood on the front porch was rotting so he had to watch where he stepped as he went in to get something to eat and drink before riding the final ten miles.
It was dark inside and it took awhile for his eyes to adjust. He saw a small table that was unoccupied near the bar. There were four men standing around and another eight spread out at different tables. As he sat down a large woman with a huge bosom walked over and asked him, “Whatcha having young man? You hear to eat or just drink?”
She had so much cake applied to her face it was difficult to tell how old she was. It was hard to cover up all the wrinkles she had, but she gave it a good try.
“I need something to eat. What is your special?”
“We got beef tips and that’s it. No specials.”
“Alright, I’ll take that and a cold beer.”
“Okay, sweetie, coming up.”
As she walked away, he overheard some yelling. A man who appeared to be a local rancher, close to fifty years old, slight of build was telling a big cowboy who was sitting at a table next to the bar that he had every right to be standing there and drinking.
“Now you listen Gavin, I have the right to eat and drink as much as I want wherever I want. I don’t really care what you say or think. You ain’t even from these parts. Go back and stay on ol’ Olive’s ranch where you belong.”
The cowboy at the table gave him a menacing look. He was a large man, well over six feet tall with thick shoulders and well muscled arms. His hands were huge and the calluses bellied a life of physical labor. There wasn’t a hair on his head but he did have a scraggly mustache that connected to a beard that covered his chin. A scar ran along his jaw bone and down his neck and disappeared under his shirt by his collarbone. His arms were very long and the sleeves on his shirt were unbuttoned and only reached to the top of his large raw wrist bones. His eyes were pale blue and hollow and were covered by thick bushy eyebrows that connected across the bridge of his nose. The lobes on his ears were big and flattened out as if someone took a rolling pin to them. As he rose, his chair scraped on the beer and sweat stained floor. He had a difficult time straightening his legs and he staggered with his first step before he gained his balance. He limped as he crossed the floor to the bar where he reached out with his hands and grabbed the smaller man’s shirt and pulled him close.
The cowboy said: “I thought I told you to stay out of here, you old coot? Don’t you listen? I guess I am going to have to make it clear to you that you ain’t allowed in this here bar.”
Yellow Hair was sitting down the bar not far from where this argument was taking place. He went and stood next to the old gentleman and said, “What’s the problem?” The cowboy’s foul breath made Yellow Hair turn his head and caused bile to rise from his belly and catch in his throat. This man hadn’t seen clean water in weeks.
The cowboy named Gavin looked at him with contempt in his eyes and picked up a strand of his hair. Turning to his friends he said, “Lookie here, we got us a pretty little blond. Where did you get such pretty hair, boy?”
Sometimes you have to do what you feel is right even if you know you aren’t going to win and Yellow Hair knew he wouldn’t win a fight with this big cowboy who was itching to get in it with that old sod buster.
He pushed the Gavin’s hand away. The cowboy turned on him, grabbing his arm in a vise like grip that he was unable to break. Yellow Hair brought his hands up, catching the Gavin by surprise and swung his elbow into his throat. Gavin stepped back choking from the assault and Yellow Hair advanced toward him striking his face with his right fist. The cowboy ducked and dropped his head as Yellow Hair’s fist connected with the top of his skull.
He heard his knuckle crack and felt the pain shoot up his arm. He was in trouble. Unless someone came to his aid, which it didn’t appear to be happening, he would be fighting this big guy with just one hand.
He knew he had to stay away from Gavin as the big cowboy’s strength and weight would overpower him, Yellow Hair kept moving to his right while jabbing with his left.
Gavin slapped his hand away and charged. He easily avoided the big man by stepping out of his way. He knew he had to come up with some way to hurt this giant and soon as he couldn’t keep doing this dance and jab routine much longer. The cowboy landed a blow to his right shoulder, causing his arm to go numb. Then Gavin sent a right fist to Yellow Hair’s cheek, breaking the skin.
Blood poured down his face. As Gavin charged again, Yellow Hair stepped back and to the left causing the cowboy to trip and lose his balance. He swung his leg around, catching the cowboy on the back of his right knee. As his leg buckled, Yellow Hair spun on his left foot and kicked out his right foot again, landing a blow to the small of the Gavin’s back. Gasping in pain, the cowboy grabbed his side. His eyes narrowed as he turned toward Yellow Hair, his face getting dark and then he charged. This time Yellow Hair moved too slow and was unable to get out of his way. His Gavin’s shoulder hit Yellow Hair’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him, driving him into the wall. A picture fell to the floor, shattering the glass.
Gavin grabbed his hair and proceeded to smash his head against the floor. He landed on top of Yellow Hair, causing him to lose consciousness and focus as the cowboy landed blow after blow to Yellow Hair’s side and head.
He could feel his eye swell up and close. In desperation, he grabbed Gavin’s right arm and put it between his body and his numb arm, turning and pinning it between him and the floor. Gavin kept striking him in the face with his left hand and Yellow Hair could feel his cheek bone break from the force of the blows.
Again, he realized he had to do something quick or he would pass out. He turned again, grabbing the cowboy’s pinned arm above the elbow and rolled him over and ending up on top. Scrambling to his feet, Yellow Hair backed up and turned sideways with his right foot forward, minimizing the size of the target he offered.
The cowboy was on his feet quickly and charged forward. Yellow Hair lashed out with his right foot striking the cowboy’s jaw. He stumbled against a table.
Yellow Hair turned and found a metal beer stein on the bar and picked it up. Gavin charged again and he met his charge and as their bodies collided his head struck Yellow Hair in the chest sending a blinding white pain through him. As he was falling back, he repeatedly struck the back of the Gavin’s skull with the beer stein.
Gavin finally dropped to his knees before falling face first to the floor. He was out cold. Yellow Hair fell back against the wall dropping the stein and slid down to a sitting position. He didn’t have the strength to stand any longer. He felt hands reaching under his armpits lifting him to his feet.
His head was pounding and his right hand was swollen to twice its normal size. He still couldn’t move his right arm and he was worried he might have suffered serious damage. He had to turn his head to see the cowboy’s body next to him as his left eye was swollen shut. He got up and staggered before his hand found the table in front of him and used it for support. He hoped Kodah hadn’t wandered too far as he really needed her now.
The old sodbuster stepped next to him and said: “I’m sorry, but I ain’t much at fightin’. I knowed I shoulda hepped ya’, but I guess I ain’t got the backbone fer it.”
Yellow Hair stared at him before turning and walking away.
He dragged himself to the door and leaned against the wall, getting his bearings as he pulled the door open. The bright sun was like a knife cutting into his good eye, causing his head to throb. He saw his horse grazing about twenty yards away in a stand of Birch Trees. The grass was a dark green and filled with sweet clover which she was thoroughly enjoying. She snorted her displeasure as he took the loose reins and grabbed her mane and swung up on her back. His ribs hurt with every breath he took. He was worried he might have broken a couple of them as he was unable to take a deep breath without an unbearable pain shooting up his side. He squeezed her into a slow walk, heading west toward the Brule Reservation and away from Bosler.
I hope I can meet up with Little Elk before long, he thought to himself. That cowboy hurt me bad.
The sun was hot and unrelenting, beating down on him, baking the blood dry on his face. He could only imagine how badly he looked. He had been riding in the heat for over two hours, fading in and out of consciousness and growing weaker by the minute. He wrapped his lariat around his waist and around his horse’s belly and secured it to the bear pad hoping this would keep him from falling.
Another hour passed and he felt helpless as he kept passing into unconsciousness for longer periods of time. The sun was high in the sky following him every step of the way staying directly overhead. The pain was getting too much for him to bear any longer so he untied the lariat from his waist and slid off the horse onto the ground. The last thing he remembered was dreaming of the days he hunted with Grey Wolf and Little Elk and his father near the Grand Tetons. The buffalo grass called gently to him as the wind blew it back and forth in the warm afternoon sun as he drifted into unconsciousness once again.