The Battle of Louisville

[Lief Erikson]

*Well, I suppose I might as well be the first one to post one of my short stories here. This one I wrote a year and a half ago. I've written several others since then, and I'll be posting several of them in this forum also.

I'm really looking forward to reading short stories that some of the others of you have written.*


The Battle of Louisville

"Matthew Tom Orlins, you are the biggest fool I ever saw in my life."
Matthew sighed and looked up at the sky for a moment, his hands finding their way behind his back. He then wobbled for a moment on tiptoes, his typical defensive posture. A habit he’d had for a long time, however odd it might be. The young woman who stood before him had her hands on her hips and glared up into his eyes angrily.
"Listen Elsa," he said as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. "You know that Bark Jarn has just recently come into town, and he says that there’s Indians comin.’ He knows what he’s talking about, and . . ."
"Then why aren’t you helping with the preparation?"
"I was going over to old Red Ermine to hear what he forecasts for the situation. He can see into the future, you know."
Elsa shook her head in despair. "You would wait on the old fraud hand and foot if he asked you to, wouldn’t you? You would be far more useful either helping to prepare the defense or helping us women hide the valuables." She took a step closer. "You didn’t by any chance find out which Indians it was, did you? It wasn’t . . ."
"I think it was Mad Owl."
She breathed a small sigh of relief. "Well. At least that aint Far Blower. Last time he came through he killed three of ours, one of whom was Joe Woodkins. He was one of the most likable people in town, and it hurt bad having him gone."
"One of the others was mighty good with his rifle as well, I hear. Did he scalp any of them?"
"Just the outlander boy. Tom . . . Oh, I can’t remember his last name, but his first name was Tom. The others he killed with arrows, and we were able to hold him off so that he couldn’t come into the town itself."
Matthew took a step away from her. "Yes, well this aint Far Blower. Mad Owl never was known for his ability to make strategy and the like. All he could do was attack like . . . well, like a Mad Owl. Company charge."
"He won’t be any problem. But you’re pretty good with your rifle yourself, so you really ought to be out there with the others. They’re chopping trees to use for barricades or to impede Mad Owl’s progress, and you really should . . . Hey! Where you goin’?"
Matthew quickened his pace away from her. "Red Ermine really should have something interesting to tell, after that I promise I’ll . . ." he let his voice drift off before he was completely out of hearing distance.
"Crazy mutton head," Elsa walked away muttering.


Far Blower looked up at Mad Owl. All the fool could think about was scalps and killing. He had no thought for strategy, only foolish bravery. But if he ever was going to accomplish his goal of conquering LouisVille, he’d need all the help he could get. And that meant he needed Mad Owl. For distraction if nothing else. This was the last time their warriors would meet up before the separated completely, Far Blower and his men waiting for Mad Owl’s to take the lead and then sneaking off into the bushes to hit the village behind the men. Let Mad Owl take the brunt of the fighting. That was probably what the insane Indian would want, anyway. He himself would strike the town, taking them all by surprise. They would be surprised indeed to find twice the numbers they were expecting to fight, and a good deal smarter of a commander in charge of the second force. He would finish off all of the women and children, taking only the able bodied ones as slaves. Then he would wait and kill or torture the men when they returned as well. But the pain of what their wives and children had gone through would be the worst pain they would suffer through it all.
Then he’d scalp their survivors and leave the lot of them in agony.
A smile spread across Far Blower’s face. All of his plans were well laid out, and his men would certainly get the easy pickings. His former defeat when he’d attacked LouisVille had left a permanent wound in his pride, and he would now finally heal that wound by doing this deed.
He fingered his scalping knife. Yes. He would deal with them all.