Her religion meant much to her, and although our beliefs were not the same their roots were similar, and I would pay respect to what she believed.
When the time came to climb the mountain to the altar I had built she came forward with a crown of feathers to place on my head. The feathers were only on the forepart of the crown.
So in the hour before high noon I led the way, followed by Itchakomi, the Natchee, Keokotah, and the women to my altar, where I had laid the makings of my fire.
For a long moment I stood before the altar. Then I lifted my arms to the sun and stood for an instant, and then lowered them. In my hand I held the burning glass taken from the pocket in my belt. I brought the glass into focus and slowly moved it down until a pinpoint of intense light was on the gathered leaves.
An instant of the intense light, and then the leaves began to smoke. There was a low murmur of astonishment from behind me. The smoke lifted, and a black spot appeared on a dried leaf and began to widen. A small flame took hold and I nudged some dried moss close to the flame. It caught. The moss smoked, and then broke into flame. I slipped the burning glass back into its pocket in my belt and pushed the tinder closer.
The flame leapt up, the fire crackled, sticks caught fire. I stepped back and turned to Itchakomi. 'The Sun,' I said, 'has given us fire.'
Chapter Thirty-Eight.
We gathered our corn in the morning, breaking the thick ears from the stalks and carrying them in handwoven baskets to the fort. The ground was rich and there had been rain enough, and always there was sun. The best of the ears I put aside for spring planting, except for a couple that I hand fed to Paisano.
Along the mountainsides we gathered seeds, hunted, and watched the skies with wary eyes for the change we knew was coming. Our sacred fire had been moved from the high mountain to a cave, where it was sheltered from wind and rain. There we stored wood to keep the fire burning, stored it dry against the time of snow.
My pistols were loaded and there was powder enough taken from our enemies to load at least twice more. Working with the silver-lead ores from nearby I molded several hundred balls and stored them against the future.
Still I had found no sulphur, yet I had been told by Sakim that it occurred where there had been volcanic action, and many of the signs were near. A wandering Indian told us of a place far to the north and west, but there was no time for such a trek before snow fell.
Now darkness came before we were ready, and leaves began to fall from some trees, and fewer flowers were in bloom, only the lavender fleabane with the gold centers, fringed gentians, rabbit bush, and sulphur flower. The time of cold was coming, but the time of storytelling, too, when we would spend much time by the fire, remembering old tales from times gone by, and listening to stories the Indians told to their children. Soon Komi would be telling those stories to our child. It was a strange thought and a worrisome one. What did I know of being a father?
Of all things here I missed books the most. How I longed for something to read! The mind has no limits but those we choose to give it. The mind reaches out hungrily for learning, and mine now was finding too little upon which to feed. Each night I stirred Itchakomi to remembering, asking question after question to understand better her people, her religion, and her ideas, and I shared mine with her.
And then came an evening when the wind blew down from the Sangre de Cristos and our fire sputtered on the hearth. Venison broiled over the fire, and when Keokotah came in he walked at once to the meat and with his knife cut a thick slice. When he had eaten he said, 'Now we fight!'
'What?'
'They come. All afternoon I have run to speak the message. Two come, but they come not together.'
'Two men?'
'No two men. Two parties, one to make trade, one to make war.'
The others gathered around. The Ponca woman put down her weaving.
'Diego comes. He has twenty pack mules. With him are six soldiers, two Indians. He comes to trade.'
'You know it is Diego?'
'I speak him. The other is Gomez. He comes with soldiers and with bad Indians. He comes for war.'
'How many?'
'Twenty men. He has four soldiers and many bad Indians. I think he wishes to catch Diego.' Keokotah paused to chew his meat. 'I speak Diego. Now he knows of Gomez. He comes this way fast.'
There was silence in the room. We had enjoyed our weeks of peace, but we had known this time would come. Yet we were so few to defend against so many.
Would Diego fight beside us? I doubted it. He had come to trade, and to fight against his own people could be none of his planning, despite the fact he did not agree with them and disliked Gomez.
Diego had implied he was interested in trade, and he knew it would be good for the Spanish to have an outpost where they might resupply themselves when on forays against the Komantsi. With so many pack animals he would be bringing trade goods, but what did Gomez have in mind?
Itchakomi of course, but what else? Revenge, also, but that would not be enough. Gold? We had little gold, and of that he could know nothing. But gold was the overriding motive for all the Spanish exploration. He might assume that we had found gold.
Why else would we be staying here?
He would know the Pawnees were gone. He will believe we are alone. He will not know of our friends the Natchee who have joined us.
Yet we were few, and how were we to defend ourselves? I had but little ammunition, and the guns would no longer be a surprise.
'There are the Utes,' Itchakomi said.
It was a good thought, yet danger might lie with the Utes, an even graver danger than with Gomez, for this was considered Ute land and we had moved upon it. There were indications that they came to this valley and camped here, although so far we had seen none of them.
From the beginning I had hoped to make them allies, for we had heard they were traditional enemies of the Komantsi, but I had no idea where they were nor how to find them, and they might attack without warning.
The fire crackled, and outside a wind blew cold. We did not look at one another, each huddled with his own doubts, her own fears. Our enemies were many, and we were few.
The walls of our fort were strong, but Gomez would have planned for them. He was a shrewd, dangerous fighting man, irked by his previous defeat and undoubtedly determined it should not happen again.
We could escape now. We could fly to the mountains and hide, but that would mean the destruction of our fort and our food supply. It would result in our starving in the snow, and Itchakomi was pregnant.
We could expect no help from anyone. Whatever was done must be done by us. Yet what could we do? The few defenses used on the previous attack would be known to Gomez. There would be no attacks by horse-riding men this time. They would attempt to capture the fort and us, but failing in that they would use fire.
Fire ... ?
'I will fight outside,' Keokotah said. 'I no good behind wall.'
'As you will, but first come with me to meet Diego.'
Turning to Itchakomi, I said, 'Itchakomi, you will be in command within the fort. Do you keep your Natchees to defend it with you. You they know, and you they will protect.'
'And you?'
'I shall go out, but I shall return.' It was in my mind to do them damage before they reached us. Yet how? What could I do?
My hand reached for Komi's and we clasped hands in the shadows, watching the fire. I was not a man who spoke much of love, although I knew such speaking was treasured by women, but it was much in my heart and I thought of her always. Now, at this moment, I feared for her, and I feared what lay before us.
What to do? They depended upon me, trusted in me. Not only was I their master of mysteries, but I was their war chief.
Now, at the beginning of our second winter, we were snug and warm. We had much dried meat and many seeds, and we had corn. We had cut wood and piled it close at hand. We were prepared for winter, for storytelling time, and now our enemies had come and my people looked to me to save them, to keep them secure.
