CHAPTER SEVENTEEN FIRE ON THE HORIZON
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
FIRE ON THE HORIZON
“The Great Spirit will
judge these things hereafter.”Red Cloud
6:00 AM
June 17th
Pine Ridge Reservation
Greyeagle stepped out of the camper and walked over to the firepit. He stirred the coals and began adding kindling to bring it back to life. Soon, everyone would be stirring, and they would want breakfast.
“You’re up early, little brother,” said Kade as he stepped out of the shadows.
“I could say the same,” Greyeagle said.
“I don’t sleep much,” Kade replied. “I like walking alone in the darkness. It’s peaceful, and I can think.”
“I find that I do my best thinking on a motorcycle,” Greyeagle said. “Or behind the wheel of my car.”
“That’s one hell of a car, by the way,” Kade said, nodding appreciatively. “A 69 Charger. Did you do all of that restoration yourself?”
“No, I bought it from some friends of mine,” Greyeagle said. “Martha and James Jenkins. They live in Missouri. I’ve made a few modifications, but it’s mostly original.”
“It suits you,” Kade said. “Did you drive it when you were a cop?”
“Yeah,” Greyeagle answered. “It could outrun those new Chargers in the straightaways, but not in the turns. It handles a bit rough in tight turns. Gets a little hard to control if you’re not careful.”
“She’s a heavy old girl,” replied Kade. “That’s a lot of ass to bring around quickly. But you could improve that significantly.”
“How?” asked Greyeagle.
“Well, we could update the suspension, the steering, and the brakes,” Kade said. “Convert the brakes to high-performance discs, front and back. Then it’s just a matter of fine-tuning the suspension. Once we find the sweet spot, she’ll corner like she’s on rails.”
“You say we,” Greyeagle said. “Does that mean you’ll be around to help me? You always were a better mechanic than I was.”
“Well, someone’s got to be a bad influence on your kids,” Kade said, grinning. “Teach them all the things that dad told us not to tell mom about.”
Greyeagle chuckled.
“Man, look at that morning sky,” Kade said, nodding.
Greyeagle turned, looked at the blood-red skyline, and frowned.
“Surely you don’t believe in that old wives’ tale about Red Sky at morning and all that?” asked Kade.
“Well, there’s always some truth to those old adages,” Greyeagle said. “But that’s not what concerns me.”
“Then what’s bothering you, brother?” asked Kade.
“That’s west,” Greyeagle said, pointing.
Kade glanced around and got his bearings.
“Shit, you’re right,” Kade said. “What the hell is that then?”
“My best guess?” Greyeagle replied. “A burning oil rig.”
“Looks like we’re about to put that little dance off to the test,” Kade said. “You wake your people, and I’ll get mine. Time to move.”
Greyeagle raced into the trailer and began yelling for everyone to get up.
Once everyone was stirring, he went to the next trailer.
They’d given Kade’s pack two of their trailers for the night, so Greyeagle was able to wake everyone quickly.
By the time they all assembled, Kade and his people were coming out fully dressed and ready to go.
“Any idea what’s in that direction?” asked Kade.
“I checked the map,” Sarah said. “The most likely target is Red Basin’s Oil Rig, Prairie Dog Eleven.”
“How far is it?” asked Raven.
“According to the map,” Sarah said, “about fifteen miles.”
“That’s got to be one hell of a fire,” Kade said. “For us to see it from that far away.”
“They must have ruptured the main lines,” Tashunka said.
“Tashunka used to work for an oil company,” Kade said. “He’s our best source of information.”
“Did you work for Red Basin?” asked Greyeagle.
“No,” replied Tashunka, “but they all work about the same way. They have to. The Roughnecks go where the contracts are, and it minimizes training time if they all work the same way. Equal parts cost saving and expedience.”
“Makes sense,” Mika said.
“We’re looking at half an hour’s travel,” Greyeagle said. “Depending on when this happened, first responders are likely already on the scene. So, we play this cool. When we get there, let me talk to the scene commander. I’ve got a badge, so they won’t just tell us to kick rocks.”
“Works for me,” Kade said. “The rest of us will help with evacuation and support. If the Ma’êstse-hóhkeso are still there, the plan will change.”
“And if they are?” asked Mika, glancing at Greyeagle. “Who’s in charge?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Greyeagle said. “We do whatever we need to do. If anyone here needs help and someone refuses, they’ll have to deal with me and Kade. That goes for both sides. We’re not enemies here. We’re going there to help, not fight amongst ourselves. Clear?”
Everyone nodded. Even Kade.
“Will’s right,” Kade said. “If he gives an order, I expect it to be followed.”
“Same goes for Kade,” Greyeagle said. “It’s time to put our differences aside and save lives. Now, let’s ride.”
Everyone headed for their bikes. Sarah climbed on behind Greyeagle and Raven behind Kade.
Kade smiled when he realized that both of their bikes were Indian Motorcycles and were set up surprisingly similarly.
The same color, same seat, and same accessories.
The biggest difference was that Greyeagle had leather saddlebags and Kade had metal.
“Nice bike,” Kade said, smiling.
“You too,” Greyeagle replied, then fired up the big engine.
“That thing purrs like a tiger,” Kade said. “I thought you said you’re not much of a mechanic.”
“I’m not,” Greyeagle replied, “but Mika is.”
Kade fired up his bike, and they headed down the driveway, side by side. They led the group as they raced down the highway. The two packs were interspersed together, long hair waving behind them like banners. All of them had a patch on their back, each as different as the packs themselves.
The back of the Hotamétaneo’o’s leather jackets was emblazoned with a patch that read GHOST DANCE on the top rocker with a bottom rocker that said SOUTH DAKOTA.
The image inside the wording was a famous sculpture, “End of the Trail,” a mounted warrior slumped wearily over his horse.
The entire patch was made to look like buckskin drawn tight over a wooden circle with blue and white feathers hanging from the left side.
The letters M and C were on either side of the figure mounted on the horse.
The backs of the Makhótaneo’o jackets bore a different patch.
Across the top rocker, stitched in blood-red letters, were the words CRAZY HORSE.
A matching bottom rocker proclaimed SOUTH DAKOTA.
Between them was the image of a mounted Lakota warrior charging forward, spear leveled for war, and a coup stick raised overhead.
Dark storm clouds rolled across the background above distant hills while the setting sun painted the horizon red like a prairie fire.
The M and C were on either side of the patch.
Unlike the buckskin-and-feather motif of the Ghost Dance patch, there was nothing peaceful about it.
The entire design seemed to be moving forward, as if the rider might burst from the leather at any moment.
The Crazy Horse patch suited Kade perfectly.
It wasn't a patch about remembrance or tradition. It was a patch about resistance.
They rode hard, pushing nearly 120 miles per hour. As they approached the burning oil rig, they could see that it was a total loss. The rig was an inferno, and the first responders were staged at a distance, not getting closer.
As they slowed, a South Dakota State Trooper came up and motioned for them to stop. Greyeagle reached up and pulled his badge out from beneath his shirt, letting it hang from the chain. When the trooper saw it, he looked confused.
“I didn’t know the US Marshals recruited bikers,” he said. “Can I see some ID?”
“Of course,” Greyeagle said. “I’m reaching for my wallet.”
The trooper nodded and put his hand on his pistol. Kade stiffened, but Sarah caught his eye and subtly shook her head. Kade frowned, and Raven squeezed him with her legs, indicating she agreed with Sarah. Kade gave them both a dirty look but didn’t say anything.
Greyeagle took out his wallet and showed his credentials to the trooper. He took a few moments to study it closely. Clearly, he wasn’t convinced that this wasn’t a clever forgery.
“I’m gonna have to call this in,” the trooper said.
“We’re just here to help,” said Greyeagle.
“It’s alright,” said a familiar voice. “They’re with me.”
The trooper looked up in annoyance and stopped when he saw Jake Wisdom approaching. Then he nodded.
“Yessir,” said the trooper. “I was just about to verify these credentials.”
“Well, I’m verifying them for you,” said Wisdom. “He’s with me. If there’s a problem with that, you can speak to my boss. I’ll give you his number.”
“That won’t be necessary,” said the trooper. “Since the governor himself said you were in charge of the investigation. I’d say that confirms your authority well enough.”
“Good,” said Wisdom. “Now, if there’s nothing else, let them through. I need them.”
The trooper handed Greyeagle back his credentials, still gave him a skeptical look, and said nothing else.
“Where do you need us?” asked Greyeagle.
“Park your bikes and meet me at the command tent,” Wisdom said. “Something is going on here, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“We’ll be right there,” Greyeagle said.
They quickly parked their bikes and headed for the tent, ducking below the crime scene tape.
“So, this is what it feels like to be a cop,” muttered Kade.
“No, this is just us getting inside,” Greyeagle replied. “The real work’s about to begin.”
The tent was large enough to accommodate them all. Inside was a flurry of activity: hastily assembled generators, computers, maps, and charging racks of radios.
“What’s going on?” asked Greyeagle.
“Where’s Caine?” asked Wisdom.
“I have no idea,” Greyeagle replied. “He had business to attend to. I expect he’ll be along soon enough, though. As soon as he hears about this incident.”