The Night of the Silver Totem (Dr Who and Wild Wild West are not mine so don't sue me international conglomerates! I just thought that the Doctor & Leela could use a vacation and that Jim and Artie would make perfect hosts. Enjoy Part 1!)
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He watched her pace up and down the length of the control room like a raging caged lioness. Not that he would give her the satisfaction of noting her pacing in an obvious manner. Instead it was a peripheral viewing from under a lowered floppy brown hat, a mass of brown, unruly curls, and over the top of the scarf that swallowed the lower half of his face from the center of the bridge of his hawkish nose down. For all intents and purposes he looked disinterested, asleep even. The chair propped against the wall, tipped dangerously far back, long tweed-clad legs and huge brown booted feet, anchoring him from falling over, on the control dais. He didn't move a muscle of his long lanky frame. His arms lay, relaxed and crossed over his chest and further concealed his silent observation of the perplexing, frustrating, interesting beast that was Leela.
After a few more minutes of pacing with her head bowed over the primer clutched in her hands she raised her head with an impatient growl and threw it away from her with both hands as though it were a poisonous snake.
"Words, words, WORDS!" She screamed. "My head aches with them!"
The reason for his stillness was apparent when he smiled. The ever alert huntress saw even this small movement of muscle under scarf...the barest of ripples...and turned on him seizing Alice through the Looking Glass and throwing it at him like a boomerang, nearly toppling him.
"I am a warrior of the Sevateem!" She stood erect and pounded her chest with a closed fist. "Not a chief's scribe! Why must I interpret these bird scratchings? It would be more useful to read oracles in beckle's entrails then to understand why stupid girl children would follow large rodents, they don't intend on eating, down burrows!"
The Doctor spared a small mournful look at the torn book, but didn't let it stop him from smiling more broadly as he stood to his full slouching height. An illustration of the Mad Hatter's gangly, preposterous profile smiled back from the floor at him. Lifting the rim of his own hat, The Doctor fixed Leela with a merry gaze.
"I imagine a book mark is easier to find tucked in the pages of Lewis Carroll then sticking to entrails Leela."
She looked like she was ready to strike him for a moment. There was obviously some part of her that always had to restrain herself from lashing out at him physically. Which was reasonable considering she grew to adulthood in a culture, which raised her to understand that he was, in fact, The Evil One. Everyday he woke without a Janis Thorne in his throat he considered a triumph for his civilizing effect on people.
"I've shown you Wells and Carroll, Doyle, Tennyson, Poe and the Bard and you find nothing even remotely interesting in anything you've read?" He crooned incredulously. "Nothing at all?"
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him stubbornly for a moment as she thought. Then looking around quickly she bent over and picked a book, which was hardly a book, out of the battered pile at her feet and thrust it out toward him.
"This one!"
The Doctor took the garishly covered magazine from her hand and examined it. It was yellowed and the edges were brittle but the color cover clearly showed a wildly painted American Indian, bedecked in feathers and his hand covering his mouth in mid-whoop on the bare back of a painted pony. One hand held a feather-covered spear, which pointed at a huge buffalo. "Tales of the Savage West" was the title and as the Doctor flipped through the weathered pages he frowned to note the numerous illustrations depicting battles and shootouts and war dances and hunts. Lots of hand colored ink drawings and not a lot of words or complicated concepts. Simple and brutal. A lot like his charge.
"Ahhhhhhhh!" however, was his only reply. He had not invited Leela to accompany him on his journeys. He had decided to wander unfettered for a while. He still missed Sarah Jane more then he should...even Harry Sullivan oddly enough. But he had thought that some peace and quiet would be nice too...not for long...maybe half a century. Yet even he would admit that after just a few days the peace had just become too quiet. His booming voice seemed to echo in a way it never did when there was a sentient...or in Leela's case semi-sentient body to absorb the well-rounded tones.
Still...he would have preferred to have chosen his companion himself. Not a violent, murderous, unwashed savage such as she. As frustrating as she was though, The Doctor took her under his wing. Making a determined effort to wean her from her aggressive tendencies. It was the least he could do since he was; admittedly, partially to blame for the conditions her people raised her in. Part penitent...part father figure...part Professor Higgins...part gaoler/zoo keeper/lion tamer. All equaling frustration.
He opened his mouth and closed it again. Leela gazed at him expectantly. The dropping the pulp fiction he turned to the controls of the TARDIS and laid his long fingers across dials and buttons and then with a grinding whir and what sounded all the world like brakes being applied he flipped up the lever which released the door and walked past Leela and out the door.
"All work and no play makes Leela a dull girl!" He called over his shoulder. He could feel the question marks strike him in the back and the moment's hesitation before Leela recovered herself and followed.
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Leela didn't understand many things. As she told the Doctor, she had been raised as a hunter, not a scribe...not a priest...not a craftsman, or fletcher. Why did he have to complicate things by making her feel inadequate for not being that which she was not designed to be? He amazed her constantly...he had even earned her respect. Respect was hard won from her and usually reserved for those who had proven themselves fighters of distinction. Yet The Doctor wasn't a fighter...and her respect for his wit and humor and ability to survive despite not having a taste for war made her doubt herself. Made her feel, sometimes, that he was eroding her...weakening her...and she wasn't comfortable with that thought at all.
Still she covered the hilt of her knife with her callused hand, and followed him. Far from her tribe...and far from welcome in her tribe now, he was as close as she had to a chieftain...or a friend. So her protection was his in either case.
You never knew what would confront you when you left The Doctor's magic box. And she crouched low and was ready for anything whenever she left it. Though The Doctor had forbidden her from using her pouch of Janis thorns and preferred she keep her knife sheathed, she still approached every exit as a possibly dangerous encounter. Guards, beasts, storms, and foggy nights have all been found on the opposite side...so finding herself emerging to a sun dappled forest devoid of even the scent of danger made her almost as wary as a headlong assault...such a surprise peace was.
"Why are we here Doctor?" she asked stepping up to his elbow where he looked down a gently sloping hillside and into a treeless valley below.
"Recess!"
Then he pointed down into the valley.
Leela followed the pointed finger and saw them.
"BUBBALOES!" She whispered excitedly. The hunter inside her kept her from shouting her joy but the whisper carried the same weight in this case. Her face was alight with earnest concentration and her hand ached to be holding her bow.
"BuFF..aloes." corrected The Doctor with a grimace, then a smile.
"Oh Doctor...They are beautiful!" She turned back toward the TARDIS. "Let me get my crossbow!"
The Doctor reached out his hand and grabbed her by the arm. She turned and the look of distaste was plain on his face.
"Leela...no. I can't have you reeking havoc on the landscape." The Doctor restrained her. "You seemed interested in the animal and I brought you here for a break in your studies...to relax."
"Hunting is relaxing!" she hissed looking back at the bison mournfully.
The Doctor looked absently disdainful. "Only a savage could find killing something a form of recreation."
Then an ear-splitting whoop filled the air and The Doctor turned to look down into the valley at the same time as three bare backed riders burst from the tree cover below and screamed toward the startled herd. No reins...horses and riders almost one body as the fearless mounts charged without goading and the riders raised bows with arrows notched.
Just as one flight of arrows connected with the slowest old cow the second volley was ready to fly. They seemed to work telepathically...nothing but savage screaming and deadly aim. Leela watched with taut envy and excitement. Her breath caught in her throat and her fingers tightened over the hilt of her dagger, every muscle in her body ached with the desire to be down on that plain with the dark skinned dark haired warriors who moved with their animals as though they were one with the creatures.
The Doctor watched with interest but without the same anticipation. There was almost a sadness in his stance that Leela didn't understand. When the triumphant yelling swelled and the wounded beast fell Leela's heart leapt with joy...The Doctor closed his great blue eyes and shook his head slowly. He prepared to turn, the TARDIS key in hand, clearly, recess was over, when there was a whine of technology that even Leela knew was out of place in this valley and they both turned and saw the three warriors fall from their horses next to the carcass of their kill.
And Leela suddenly found herself chasing The Doctor as he ran down the hill toward the fallen natives. She didn't mind. She was sure though, that if she hadn't been so softened by travel with The Doctor, that it should be he that was following her down into the valley. This did bother her.
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The negotiations were going badly. James West watched Chief Red Hand carefully as he was whispered at from all sides by his counselors, especially the Medicine Man...Shaker of Bones. The wizened medicine man glared at James West & Artemus Gordon with eyes like shiny black marbles in his cracked and lined face, his white, feather and bone braided plaits shaking with the vehement admonishments he spat into his chief's ear.
"Shaker of Bones says that you speak lies. That the Silver Totem says that while you make promises to us that your soldiers and miners kill our braves." The stately chieftain looked at his medicine man with respect but also sadness.
He was a man beaten down by wars. He cared for his ever smaller tribe and the tribes of his nation and held onto the hope that THIS TIME...the white man would be true to his word.
"I can promise you Chief that this is untrue. We have soldiers guarding the outskirts of your lands until we can resolve our current problems...no one has crossed your borders. No one is killing your braves."
The old shaman took great exception to this and stood and pointed into West's face shaking with fury.
"You call the Silver Totem a liar!?" Just then a young breathless brave burst into the tent and whispered urgently in the old man's ear and the man waved him away with a sickeningly smug smile. Jim glanced at Artie who was craning to see outside the flap of the large teepee being used by the chief for this meeting.
"Red Hand...remember this day. Remember what I said...remember that the man of the White Chief in Washington called Silver Totem a liar...and remember that Silver Totem has never lied to our people since his arrival...unlike the white man!" And then the shaman swept out of the teepee followed by his cronies then the Chief and his braves and lastly James West and Artemus Gordon.
There were muffled gasps and, then the loud sobbing cries of women, then angry shouts as Jim pushed through the crowd. The procession coming to a stop in front of the meeting place included three horses with their riders, three young braves, dead and draped over their backs. Those horses were led by six furious looking warriors who glared at two people being walked behind the ponies carrying the dead. A rope around each of the two's throats kept them from being inclined to fall and they trotted to a stop looking dusty but far from what Jim or Artie expected.
There was no doubt that the captives were white...but they looked, in no way, like soldiers or miners. A man and a woman. The man was tall, gangly, wearing a long coat and a multi-colored knitted scarf, which dragged the ground behind him, hardly in keeping with the warmer then usual fall they were entering. The inappropriateness of his dress apparent in the sweat pouring off his brow and sticking damp brown masses of curls to his forehead so that he shook his head to see clearly around him once they completely stopped. His blue eyes became enormous as he looked around with interest, his gaze resting for just a moment on Artie and Jim and smiling broadly if tiredly. The woman was equally unusual. She stood as tall as Jim in skin moccasin boots and skin dress which came up to her thighs and the neck of which curved low...it was as native as could be but of no tribe design Jim could recognize...certainly not like any of the more demure Indian maidens gathered angrily on the outskirts of the men to stare. But she was definitely white. Tanned. Toned. Her muscles were lean and used to hard work...fighting too by the look of the empty sheath on her shapely hip. Jim could even make out the faint white scratchings against arms and legs that spoke of scars. But definitely a white woman. Wavy brown hair hung past her shoulders and she looked around curiously as well but her face was grim and dignified...her brown eyes hard.
"Red Hand...Our warriors are slain, just as Silver Totem said!" The shriveled, bristling medicine man struck with his buffalo bone talisman and the tall man doubled over with a grunt where it struck him in the stomach. "And here are the white murderers!"
Jim saw the woman growl angrily and bear her teeth at the shaman and lunge only to be yanked back with a choking cough by a mounted brave. Jim stepped forward quickly.
The tall man stood and gazed at his approach and smiled.
"Hullo." Jim paused. The sonorous, rolling tones were even more out of place then the scarf.
Jim came to a stop in front of the man and looked up into his expressive eyes. "I don't know who you are but you better have a good explanation for being in a restricted area." The man grinned and Jim wondered if he was simple minded. Then he spoke again and the tones and content were anything but simple.
"Ask the chap with the boney decorations how these men died..."
Artie turned to the chief. "Chief Red Hand, if these two killed your warriors we will stand by your judgment of them." Jim felt an involuntary jerk inside at this promise, but what choice did they have? "But please, let us examine what happened to be sure of all our facts first. Can we look at the braves who were killed please? With you here, of course."
Artie's hands were held palms up and open, a gesture of humility and pleading. The chief looked at the faces of his grieving people and the angry shaman and the curious faces of the suspects and nodded.
The medicine man ran up to his chief as he saw the man weigh the request.
"Red Hand!" he cried with disbelief. "This she-dog was seen over our braves with her long knife! What more proof do you need!?"
The chief looked at his shaman with annoyance suddenly...obviously sick of being disturbed in his deliberations yet again. Then looking up at the warrior on the horse dragging the woman he thrust out his hand.
"I will look at this knife!" he ordered. The warrior wavered, looking first at the shaman then his chief and he took the knife from his belt and laid it in Red Hand's palm.
The chief examined the knife and Jim did as well...surreptitiously. It was a well used blade but well cared for. A prized possession. A leather-wrapped handle worn smooth with years of use, a sharpened blade oiled with care. Jim was careful not to point this out to Red Hand for fear of insulting him and he needn't have feared because Red Hand had seen the evidence the blade did not carry for himself.
"Owl's Eyes?" He barked the question. "Did you wipe the blade? Did you oil it?"
The long braided warrior looked around, confused, then back at his chief.
"No my chief!"
The chief stepped up to the woman who looked at him calmly, defiantly.
"You did not kill my braves." It was a statement.
"No. WE did not." Also a statement.
The chief turned one by one to the braves.
"Besides the knife, what other weapons were found?"
The warriors looked at each other and then at the ground, back of their horse's necks, their feet...anyplace but their chief.
Owl's Eyes answered. "We found no weapons." He indicated the tall man who had taken to studying the symbols painted on a teepee with undivided attention. "This one carried many strange things, but none of them weapons that we know of."
At this another warrior handed the chief a makeshift bag made of hide which the chief emptied at his feet and sifted through. This Jim and Artie also examined with interest.
Two apple cores.
One yo-yo toy that Jim could recall Chinese children playing with in the streets of San Francisco.
One crumpled white bag with what appeared to be some sort of sweets inside.
A small ball of string.
A candle stub.
A battered origami crane.
A chain with an odd pendant hanging from it.
A cricket ball.
A bag of marbles.
More string...loose...not wound into a ball this time.
And a small metal stick topped with a red jewel in a small metal ring.
An odd collection....a huge and pointless looking collection. But as the chief pondered the items he came to the same conclusion as Jim did.
"I see no weapons." He stepped up to the tall man and looked him over. The man had the sense not to smile this time. Jim wondered about his seeming simpleness even further. The chief turned to his people. "These two people killed three braves who had bows, knives, horses, and spears with an apple core and an unused knife?"
Meanwhile the bodies were lowered from the horses and the chief turned away from the tall man and his shaman and people and the agents and bent to examine them, placing a mournful hand on each forehead and chanting low in prayer before the perusal. It was harder to see around the crowd that gathered then and Jim had to do his best...he could see Artie was closer and his friend was looking down with a surprised interest on his face. For the first time one of them interrupted the chief.
"Chief Red Hand...what do you make of that black starburst pattern on the back of this man and the chests of the other two?" Artie's voice was low...respectful. "I can't see from here very well...but I see no hole...no stab wound."
The question was PERFECT. Jim suppressed a grin. His friend had managed to draw attention to the important lack of entry wound at the same time as he informed Jim of what was...or wasn't there.
He heard the chief grunt in acknowledgement of the observation his reply did not sound insulted. "I understand what you say Artemus Gordon. Yessss...No holes. It looks like they were...how do I explain? It looks like the marks left when a man is struck by skyfire...um...lightning."
"Exactly Chief!" Artie sounded fascinated.
Jim resisted the urge to stand on his toes to see...it would have lowered his dignity. He caught the eye of the dark haired woman and saw her stifle a grin as though she'd read his mind and he frowned.
The chief was still talking. "But Artemus Gordon. Sky...umm lightening does not chase and kill three strong men on a clear day." He looked troubled as he stood. He did not look at his shaman or the shaman's supporters as he raised his hands.
The crowd grew silent.
"My eyes are old, but they are not blind. I see no weapons, and I see no weapon wounds!" There was much angry murmuring and the chief silenced it with a glare. "But I do not see the sky dark with thunderclouds...there was no sky fire. I find that someone has killed our braves!" There was whooping at this and Jim turned to see the girl gasp, not from the pronouncement but because her noose was yanked tighter by her over enthusiastic handler and he almost moved to aid her but the chief, for all his age, moved faster and jerked the rope from Owl's Eyes' hands and glowered at the brave.
"But I am not convinced that these two are the guilty ones!"
The crowd grew silent. The shaman's approach to the center of the conversation was heralded by the clattering of bones. "Then you call Silver Totem a liar!" he declared. "Even if these did not kill our braves, which Silver Totem says they did, even so..they violate the white man's promise not to come on to our lands before Red Hand says they may come! Silver Totem says the white man lies and he has not been proven wrong!"
The Chief looked very much older suddenly and bowed his head in a nod. Then looked up.
"This is truth Bone Shaker." He pointed at the tall man and the girl. "Take them to a teepee with the white chief's men and guard them. I must think of what the punishment for their trespass will be."
Jim felt himself being shoved and realized that he and Artie were now prisoners of the enraged tribe as much as the strangers were.
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The Doctor looked inside the dusty teepee but was shoved inside before his eyes could adjust properly to the gloom.
Leela glowered at him, ignoring the other two men shoved in behind her as she wagged a finger in his face.
"If you had let me keep my Janis Thorns we would never have been captured!" she hissed.
She looked ready to continue but the handsome man in the blue suit turned toward them with his fists clenched but his manner in check.
"You had better be able to explain who you are and what you are doing here." He crossed his arms and paced the short length of the teepee and turned back toward them. "Do you realize you have single-handedly destroyed 6 months of negotiations with Red Hand's people to avoid another Indian war...to avoid a land grab by miners...to avoid a massacre on both sides?!"
The Doctor paused and looked at the other man instead. Taller then the other man he watched them with large curious brown eyes and a crease of concern marring his broad forehead.
"You did very well out there you know!" he said putting out his hand amiably. The tall dark haired man shook it, glancing at his friend with a look of sudden confusion.
"Ummm...thank you."
"Not at all." The Doctor enthused. "Of course that Red Hand fellow was a quite intelligent as well. Still..." he frowned. "I didn't really like that short bony chap. Reminded me too much of...what was his name? Leela? Your Xoanon priest....uhhh?"
"Neeva." She provided while she kept her eyes on the man in blue, having determined him to be the greater danger at this time.
"NEEVA!" The Doctor exclaimed. "That's right!"
The man in blue stopped in front of them again and took a deep breath.
"Who are you?"
"Leela." Introduced Leela, in the way she had seen The Doctor introduce himself on occasion, and she thrust out her hand stiffly at the height of the man's chin.
This, The Doctor was glad to see, produced a quick, tiny, smile as the man retrieved her hand from the air to shake it. The Doctor smiled and thrust out his hand as well, only at a more appropriate height. "I am The Doctor." Then he waited with wide blue eyes expectant.
The men before them regained their balance after the inevitable pause most people experienced with The Doctor as they waited for more to his introduction.
"James West." Greeted the man in blue with a nod toward Leela.
"Artemus Gordon." Introduced the dark haired man with a more courtly bow to Leela which actually produced a blush, causing The Doctor to smile broadly at the man.
"We're federal agents, we were sent here to negotiate a new treaty which would allow for the gold, discovered in Red Hand's territory to be mined without the miners or the Indians killing each other or the government being forced to move them onto a reservation. But your arrival was a violation of our promise that no other white men...or women...would come onto their land until the treaty particulars were agreed upon."
The man was very angry, coiled with it, but apparently not as rash as one would expect from such a young buck. The Doctor smiled sympathetically with their situation then turned away from James West and pointed at Artemus Gordon.
"Who is this, Silver Totem, that the shaman spoke of?" The Doctor had cultivated his banter to the point that most people never realized they were being questioned by him until they had revealed far too much and then they generally underestimated him and felt that what they'd revealed would soon be forgotten by him anyway. Not this time. As the Dark haired man opened his mouth to answer the smaller, brown haired man grabbed him by his coat lapels and scarf with larger then average hands and jerked him off his feet forward, easily supporting his weight as he looked him square in the eye
"WE...ask the questions...YOU answer the questions...What are you doin...." Was as far as he got when Leela, a blur of movement out of the corner of his left eye, hooked one lean arm around James West's neck and secured her grip with her other hand locked firmly around her wrist. With a twist and jerk backwards the man's chin pointed up in the air and she leaned in to whisper in her victim's right ear.
"Let go of The Doctor or I will snap your neck!" And with a grunt from West it was apparent that his ward was applying meaning to her threat.
The Doctor's coat was released and he straightened, about ready to admonish Leela for her savage behavior. When The Doctor glanced to his right he saw Mr. Gordon's eyes widen with surprise and more then a little delight and The Doctor wasn't sure that that was necessarily a good reaction.
Then in another blur of motion James West grabbed the arm around his throat and rolled forward carrying Leela over his shoulder, until she hit the floor with a dirty thud and he rolled up onto her chest and pinned her to the floor with a less then gentlemanly smile playing on his lips.
The disturbance was settled when the Indians guarding the teepee ran inside and stared in surprise at the compromising position and West stood and extended a hand down to Leela which she batted aside and stood and skulked over to stand beside The Doctor. The two guards whispered something to each other that The Doctor suspected was very rude indeed and laughed as they left the teepee.
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James West was tired of surprises; though the opportunity to straddle a scantily clad woman was a surprise he didn't mind so much as he wanted to pretend.
"That was just dandy!" he groused. "Look...I need to know what you are doing here and why all the questions?"
The woman answered much to everyone's surprise. "I am here because The Doctor was trying to show me what a bubba...buff..alo looked like because I was working too hard learning to read and lost my temper and he probably feared that if I didn't get away from reading for a while that I would kill him with a Janis thorn out of spite! That is why we are here. But it is no matter! We ARE here, and you should LISTEN to The Doctor because he is older and wiser then you are and if you don't I may be tempted to use my thorns on you instead!"
The three of them stared but while Artie and Jim were simply confused the broadest of toothy smiles blossomed on the tall stranger's face, much like a proud parent watching it's precocious offspring. Then he scowled.
"Thorns?"
The girl lowered her eyes at the admonishment and smiled sheepishly.
"I keep one hidden...in my hair."
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Artemus Gordon watched events unfold with only one certainty.
That The Doctor wasn't the fool he permitted others to think he was. He watched the casual examinations of minutia while grinning inanely; all the while wild blue eyes that glittered with mad genius played the room and knew every nuance even if he personally didn't play by any rules of etiquette or conventional reaction. This man was as alien to this place as the man in the moon, yet oddly at home and understanding of the forms, but not feeling any need to abide by them. In a way he reminded Artie of Dr. Loveless. But while the eyes showed the same maniacal glee they held none of the malice that the insane little man's eyes held for the world.
No...this man was no fool.
And what's more, for no reason he could even think of or understand, he knew that this Doctor was more then an encumbrance...he may be a solution and Artie went with his instinct on this.
"You asked about Silver Totem." He said, ignoring the look that Jim gave him. "We tried to find out early in our negotiations...after a while we gave up. It seems to be another name for their Great Sky Father....their God...though I've never heard them refer to God by such a title before last year."
The Doctor nodded. "Yes...well...maybe they've had a recent revelation."
The woman, who now watched Jim with a suspicious caution, sank to the floor of the teepee and leaned against the center pole.
"Does the priest talk to his god in the open?"
Artemus smiled. "No...and that is odd. These are very spiritual people but their spirituality is rooted in nature...in openness." He looked at Jim who frowned as he listened...the ideas opening up in his head despite his suspicion of these two. "But this "God" only appears to the Shaker of Bones in a special teepee set up outside the tribe's encampment."
The Doctor chuckled. "A lot like Neeva. But...I wonder...who is on the other end of the telephone this time?"
"Tele-what?" Asked Artie, Jim and Leela in unison.
But they were ignored. The question was unimportant to the focus The Doctor had attached himself to.
"I think we should pay a call on God then."
He began to look around as though searching for something to use, perhaps in an escape, but Artie somehow knew it was better not to hazard a guess with this man.
"Doctor...is this like Xoanon?" The girl said this in a hushed tone and made a series of gestures that Artie had never seen before but reminded him of a Catholic gesturing at a particularly upsetting thought to garner protection.
"I don't believe so...I don't usually make mistakes more then once."
The girl rolled her eyes.
Before any of this could be explained to the curious Artie or the more then agitated James West the tent flap opened and they were ushered out. It had grown dark and the way to the center of the camp was lit by torches and a huge bonfire in the center.
Artie walked beside Jim.
"What do you think of our friend The Doctor."
Jim glanced at the man as he stooped to wave at a small child hiding behind adults as they passed.
"I don't know...I want to get them out of here...back to the Wanderer if we can. I just hope we can make it out of here with our scalps." He whispered back.
Artie looked at the Chief as he came into view. "Red Hand is a good man Jim...smart...if there's a way he'll find it. He has to do it in a way that will satisfy his people." Artie watched the chief's face for any clue. "If not...the Shaman will step in and take over and we'll have a new Indian war and more then just us four will lose our scalps."
Jim nodded.
The sound around them died as Red Hand raised his arms high then lowered them. The Shaman's eyes glittered red and hard in the fire glow as he watched the proceedings hungrily.
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Leela stood beside The Doctor and held her chin up. This was a tribe chief pronouncing sentence, she would treat this with dignity.
The Chief spoke. "The people demand your lives. They say you lied. That white men have killed our people."
There were murmurs, but no outbursts this time.
"But I say that the warriors died another way and there is no proof that these whites killed or came to our lands to kill or mine."
The murmurs grew angry.
"But I will let the strength of champions decide whether the whites go free or die since the people disagree."
The man named West tensed, his jaw clenched and his fists curled and uncurled in a brief, automatic gesture. He began sizing up the warriors who stood by the Shaman, for Leela knew that the tribe's champion would come from that side of the argument. She watched him begin to shed his jacket and remove his empty gun belt. He had chosen himself their champion and prepared for it as a fighter should. She was impressed.
Red Hand continued. "Kills like Bear will fight..." he nodded to West. "James West. To the death."
The named warrior stepped out of the crowd. A full head taller then the tallest there West's head came to his chest and the brawny seasoned brave looked down with a pitiless, determined face.
The Doctor interrupted. "Chief...If we win...can we see Silver Totem?"
The Chief frowned. "It is forbidden. If West defeats Kills like Bear your only reward will be banishment from our lands."
"But what if we make the show more...interesting?" The Doctor grinned. Leela watched as the Doctor noted the gambling taking place on the sidelines and she felt an anxious prickling.
"Interesting?"
West rushed forward and pushed a finger into The Doctor's chest and this time Leela didn't stop him. The Chief's challenge had seemed fair to her and The Doctor was endangering their chances for survival.
"Stay out of this..." West shouted.
He would have continued but The Doctor grabbed Leela by the arm and sidestepped West dragging her forward.
"I bet a visit to Silver Totem, that Leela here, will defeat your brave!" he shouted to the crowd whose combined voice rose to a deafening roar.
"WHAT!?" Shouted West and Gordon together.
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He watched her pace up and down the length of the control room like a raging caged lioness. Not that he would give her the satisfaction of noting her pacing in an obvious manner. Instead it was a peripheral viewing from under a lowered floppy brown hat, a mass of brown, unruly curls, and over the top of the scarf that swallowed the lower half of his face from the center of the bridge of his hawkish nose down. For all intents and purposes he looked disinterested, asleep even. The chair propped against the wall, tipped dangerously far back, long tweed-clad legs and huge brown booted feet, anchoring him from falling over, on the control dais. He didn't move a muscle of his long lanky frame. His arms lay, relaxed and crossed over his chest and further concealed his silent observation of the perplexing, frustrating, interesting beast that was Leela.
After a few more minutes of pacing with her head bowed over the primer clutched in her hands she raised her head with an impatient growl and threw it away from her with both hands as though it were a poisonous snake.
"Words, words, WORDS!" She screamed. "My head aches with them!"
The reason for his stillness was apparent when he smiled. The ever alert huntress saw even this small movement of muscle under scarf...the barest of ripples...and turned on him seizing Alice through the Looking Glass and throwing it at him like a boomerang, nearly toppling him.
"I am a warrior of the Sevateem!" She stood erect and pounded her chest with a closed fist. "Not a chief's scribe! Why must I interpret these bird scratchings? It would be more useful to read oracles in beckle's entrails then to understand why stupid girl children would follow large rodents, they don't intend on eating, down burrows!"
The Doctor spared a small mournful look at the torn book, but didn't let it stop him from smiling more broadly as he stood to his full slouching height. An illustration of the Mad Hatter's gangly, preposterous profile smiled back from the floor at him. Lifting the rim of his own hat, The Doctor fixed Leela with a merry gaze.
"I imagine a book mark is easier to find tucked in the pages of Lewis Carroll then sticking to entrails Leela."
She looked like she was ready to strike him for a moment. There was obviously some part of her that always had to restrain herself from lashing out at him physically. Which was reasonable considering she grew to adulthood in a culture, which raised her to understand that he was, in fact, The Evil One. Everyday he woke without a Janis Thorne in his throat he considered a triumph for his civilizing effect on people.
"I've shown you Wells and Carroll, Doyle, Tennyson, Poe and the Bard and you find nothing even remotely interesting in anything you've read?" He crooned incredulously. "Nothing at all?"
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him stubbornly for a moment as she thought. Then looking around quickly she bent over and picked a book, which was hardly a book, out of the battered pile at her feet and thrust it out toward him.
"This one!"
The Doctor took the garishly covered magazine from her hand and examined it. It was yellowed and the edges were brittle but the color cover clearly showed a wildly painted American Indian, bedecked in feathers and his hand covering his mouth in mid-whoop on the bare back of a painted pony. One hand held a feather-covered spear, which pointed at a huge buffalo. "Tales of the Savage West" was the title and as the Doctor flipped through the weathered pages he frowned to note the numerous illustrations depicting battles and shootouts and war dances and hunts. Lots of hand colored ink drawings and not a lot of words or complicated concepts. Simple and brutal. A lot like his charge.
"Ahhhhhhhh!" however, was his only reply. He had not invited Leela to accompany him on his journeys. He had decided to wander unfettered for a while. He still missed Sarah Jane more then he should...even Harry Sullivan oddly enough. But he had thought that some peace and quiet would be nice too...not for long...maybe half a century. Yet even he would admit that after just a few days the peace had just become too quiet. His booming voice seemed to echo in a way it never did when there was a sentient...or in Leela's case semi-sentient body to absorb the well-rounded tones.
Still...he would have preferred to have chosen his companion himself. Not a violent, murderous, unwashed savage such as she. As frustrating as she was though, The Doctor took her under his wing. Making a determined effort to wean her from her aggressive tendencies. It was the least he could do since he was; admittedly, partially to blame for the conditions her people raised her in. Part penitent...part father figure...part Professor Higgins...part gaoler/zoo keeper/lion tamer. All equaling frustration.
He opened his mouth and closed it again. Leela gazed at him expectantly. The dropping the pulp fiction he turned to the controls of the TARDIS and laid his long fingers across dials and buttons and then with a grinding whir and what sounded all the world like brakes being applied he flipped up the lever which released the door and walked past Leela and out the door.
"All work and no play makes Leela a dull girl!" He called over his shoulder. He could feel the question marks strike him in the back and the moment's hesitation before Leela recovered herself and followed.
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Leela didn't understand many things. As she told the Doctor, she had been raised as a hunter, not a scribe...not a priest...not a craftsman, or fletcher. Why did he have to complicate things by making her feel inadequate for not being that which she was not designed to be? He amazed her constantly...he had even earned her respect. Respect was hard won from her and usually reserved for those who had proven themselves fighters of distinction. Yet The Doctor wasn't a fighter...and her respect for his wit and humor and ability to survive despite not having a taste for war made her doubt herself. Made her feel, sometimes, that he was eroding her...weakening her...and she wasn't comfortable with that thought at all.
Still she covered the hilt of her knife with her callused hand, and followed him. Far from her tribe...and far from welcome in her tribe now, he was as close as she had to a chieftain...or a friend. So her protection was his in either case.
You never knew what would confront you when you left The Doctor's magic box. And she crouched low and was ready for anything whenever she left it. Though The Doctor had forbidden her from using her pouch of Janis thorns and preferred she keep her knife sheathed, she still approached every exit as a possibly dangerous encounter. Guards, beasts, storms, and foggy nights have all been found on the opposite side...so finding herself emerging to a sun dappled forest devoid of even the scent of danger made her almost as wary as a headlong assault...such a surprise peace was.
"Why are we here Doctor?" she asked stepping up to his elbow where he looked down a gently sloping hillside and into a treeless valley below.
"Recess!"
Then he pointed down into the valley.
Leela followed the pointed finger and saw them.
"BUBBALOES!" She whispered excitedly. The hunter inside her kept her from shouting her joy but the whisper carried the same weight in this case. Her face was alight with earnest concentration and her hand ached to be holding her bow.
"BuFF..aloes." corrected The Doctor with a grimace, then a smile.
"Oh Doctor...They are beautiful!" She turned back toward the TARDIS. "Let me get my crossbow!"
The Doctor reached out his hand and grabbed her by the arm. She turned and the look of distaste was plain on his face.
"Leela...no. I can't have you reeking havoc on the landscape." The Doctor restrained her. "You seemed interested in the animal and I brought you here for a break in your studies...to relax."
"Hunting is relaxing!" she hissed looking back at the bison mournfully.
The Doctor looked absently disdainful. "Only a savage could find killing something a form of recreation."
Then an ear-splitting whoop filled the air and The Doctor turned to look down into the valley at the same time as three bare backed riders burst from the tree cover below and screamed toward the startled herd. No reins...horses and riders almost one body as the fearless mounts charged without goading and the riders raised bows with arrows notched.
Just as one flight of arrows connected with the slowest old cow the second volley was ready to fly. They seemed to work telepathically...nothing but savage screaming and deadly aim. Leela watched with taut envy and excitement. Her breath caught in her throat and her fingers tightened over the hilt of her dagger, every muscle in her body ached with the desire to be down on that plain with the dark skinned dark haired warriors who moved with their animals as though they were one with the creatures.
The Doctor watched with interest but without the same anticipation. There was almost a sadness in his stance that Leela didn't understand. When the triumphant yelling swelled and the wounded beast fell Leela's heart leapt with joy...The Doctor closed his great blue eyes and shook his head slowly. He prepared to turn, the TARDIS key in hand, clearly, recess was over, when there was a whine of technology that even Leela knew was out of place in this valley and they both turned and saw the three warriors fall from their horses next to the carcass of their kill.
And Leela suddenly found herself chasing The Doctor as he ran down the hill toward the fallen natives. She didn't mind. She was sure though, that if she hadn't been so softened by travel with The Doctor, that it should be he that was following her down into the valley. This did bother her.
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The negotiations were going badly. James West watched Chief Red Hand carefully as he was whispered at from all sides by his counselors, especially the Medicine Man...Shaker of Bones. The wizened medicine man glared at James West & Artemus Gordon with eyes like shiny black marbles in his cracked and lined face, his white, feather and bone braided plaits shaking with the vehement admonishments he spat into his chief's ear.
"Shaker of Bones says that you speak lies. That the Silver Totem says that while you make promises to us that your soldiers and miners kill our braves." The stately chieftain looked at his medicine man with respect but also sadness.
He was a man beaten down by wars. He cared for his ever smaller tribe and the tribes of his nation and held onto the hope that THIS TIME...the white man would be true to his word.
"I can promise you Chief that this is untrue. We have soldiers guarding the outskirts of your lands until we can resolve our current problems...no one has crossed your borders. No one is killing your braves."
The old shaman took great exception to this and stood and pointed into West's face shaking with fury.
"You call the Silver Totem a liar!?" Just then a young breathless brave burst into the tent and whispered urgently in the old man's ear and the man waved him away with a sickeningly smug smile. Jim glanced at Artie who was craning to see outside the flap of the large teepee being used by the chief for this meeting.
"Red Hand...remember this day. Remember what I said...remember that the man of the White Chief in Washington called Silver Totem a liar...and remember that Silver Totem has never lied to our people since his arrival...unlike the white man!" And then the shaman swept out of the teepee followed by his cronies then the Chief and his braves and lastly James West and Artemus Gordon.
There were muffled gasps and, then the loud sobbing cries of women, then angry shouts as Jim pushed through the crowd. The procession coming to a stop in front of the meeting place included three horses with their riders, three young braves, dead and draped over their backs. Those horses were led by six furious looking warriors who glared at two people being walked behind the ponies carrying the dead. A rope around each of the two's throats kept them from being inclined to fall and they trotted to a stop looking dusty but far from what Jim or Artie expected.
There was no doubt that the captives were white...but they looked, in no way, like soldiers or miners. A man and a woman. The man was tall, gangly, wearing a long coat and a multi-colored knitted scarf, which dragged the ground behind him, hardly in keeping with the warmer then usual fall they were entering. The inappropriateness of his dress apparent in the sweat pouring off his brow and sticking damp brown masses of curls to his forehead so that he shook his head to see clearly around him once they completely stopped. His blue eyes became enormous as he looked around with interest, his gaze resting for just a moment on Artie and Jim and smiling broadly if tiredly. The woman was equally unusual. She stood as tall as Jim in skin moccasin boots and skin dress which came up to her thighs and the neck of which curved low...it was as native as could be but of no tribe design Jim could recognize...certainly not like any of the more demure Indian maidens gathered angrily on the outskirts of the men to stare. But she was definitely white. Tanned. Toned. Her muscles were lean and used to hard work...fighting too by the look of the empty sheath on her shapely hip. Jim could even make out the faint white scratchings against arms and legs that spoke of scars. But definitely a white woman. Wavy brown hair hung past her shoulders and she looked around curiously as well but her face was grim and dignified...her brown eyes hard.
"Red Hand...Our warriors are slain, just as Silver Totem said!" The shriveled, bristling medicine man struck with his buffalo bone talisman and the tall man doubled over with a grunt where it struck him in the stomach. "And here are the white murderers!"
Jim saw the woman growl angrily and bear her teeth at the shaman and lunge only to be yanked back with a choking cough by a mounted brave. Jim stepped forward quickly.
The tall man stood and gazed at his approach and smiled.
"Hullo." Jim paused. The sonorous, rolling tones were even more out of place then the scarf.
Jim came to a stop in front of the man and looked up into his expressive eyes. "I don't know who you are but you better have a good explanation for being in a restricted area." The man grinned and Jim wondered if he was simple minded. Then he spoke again and the tones and content were anything but simple.
"Ask the chap with the boney decorations how these men died..."
Artie turned to the chief. "Chief Red Hand, if these two killed your warriors we will stand by your judgment of them." Jim felt an involuntary jerk inside at this promise, but what choice did they have? "But please, let us examine what happened to be sure of all our facts first. Can we look at the braves who were killed please? With you here, of course."
Artie's hands were held palms up and open, a gesture of humility and pleading. The chief looked at the faces of his grieving people and the angry shaman and the curious faces of the suspects and nodded.
The medicine man ran up to his chief as he saw the man weigh the request.
"Red Hand!" he cried with disbelief. "This she-dog was seen over our braves with her long knife! What more proof do you need!?"
The chief looked at his shaman with annoyance suddenly...obviously sick of being disturbed in his deliberations yet again. Then looking up at the warrior on the horse dragging the woman he thrust out his hand.
"I will look at this knife!" he ordered. The warrior wavered, looking first at the shaman then his chief and he took the knife from his belt and laid it in Red Hand's palm.
The chief examined the knife and Jim did as well...surreptitiously. It was a well used blade but well cared for. A prized possession. A leather-wrapped handle worn smooth with years of use, a sharpened blade oiled with care. Jim was careful not to point this out to Red Hand for fear of insulting him and he needn't have feared because Red Hand had seen the evidence the blade did not carry for himself.
"Owl's Eyes?" He barked the question. "Did you wipe the blade? Did you oil it?"
The long braided warrior looked around, confused, then back at his chief.
"No my chief!"
The chief stepped up to the woman who looked at him calmly, defiantly.
"You did not kill my braves." It was a statement.
"No. WE did not." Also a statement.
The chief turned one by one to the braves.
"Besides the knife, what other weapons were found?"
The warriors looked at each other and then at the ground, back of their horse's necks, their feet...anyplace but their chief.
Owl's Eyes answered. "We found no weapons." He indicated the tall man who had taken to studying the symbols painted on a teepee with undivided attention. "This one carried many strange things, but none of them weapons that we know of."
At this another warrior handed the chief a makeshift bag made of hide which the chief emptied at his feet and sifted through. This Jim and Artie also examined with interest.
Two apple cores.
One yo-yo toy that Jim could recall Chinese children playing with in the streets of San Francisco.
One crumpled white bag with what appeared to be some sort of sweets inside.
A small ball of string.
A candle stub.
A battered origami crane.
A chain with an odd pendant hanging from it.
A cricket ball.
A bag of marbles.
More string...loose...not wound into a ball this time.
And a small metal stick topped with a red jewel in a small metal ring.
An odd collection....a huge and pointless looking collection. But as the chief pondered the items he came to the same conclusion as Jim did.
"I see no weapons." He stepped up to the tall man and looked him over. The man had the sense not to smile this time. Jim wondered about his seeming simpleness even further. The chief turned to his people. "These two people killed three braves who had bows, knives, horses, and spears with an apple core and an unused knife?"
Meanwhile the bodies were lowered from the horses and the chief turned away from the tall man and his shaman and people and the agents and bent to examine them, placing a mournful hand on each forehead and chanting low in prayer before the perusal. It was harder to see around the crowd that gathered then and Jim had to do his best...he could see Artie was closer and his friend was looking down with a surprised interest on his face. For the first time one of them interrupted the chief.
"Chief Red Hand...what do you make of that black starburst pattern on the back of this man and the chests of the other two?" Artie's voice was low...respectful. "I can't see from here very well...but I see no hole...no stab wound."
The question was PERFECT. Jim suppressed a grin. His friend had managed to draw attention to the important lack of entry wound at the same time as he informed Jim of what was...or wasn't there.
He heard the chief grunt in acknowledgement of the observation his reply did not sound insulted. "I understand what you say Artemus Gordon. Yessss...No holes. It looks like they were...how do I explain? It looks like the marks left when a man is struck by skyfire...um...lightning."
"Exactly Chief!" Artie sounded fascinated.
Jim resisted the urge to stand on his toes to see...it would have lowered his dignity. He caught the eye of the dark haired woman and saw her stifle a grin as though she'd read his mind and he frowned.
The chief was still talking. "But Artemus Gordon. Sky...umm lightening does not chase and kill three strong men on a clear day." He looked troubled as he stood. He did not look at his shaman or the shaman's supporters as he raised his hands.
The crowd grew silent.
"My eyes are old, but they are not blind. I see no weapons, and I see no weapon wounds!" There was much angry murmuring and the chief silenced it with a glare. "But I do not see the sky dark with thunderclouds...there was no sky fire. I find that someone has killed our braves!" There was whooping at this and Jim turned to see the girl gasp, not from the pronouncement but because her noose was yanked tighter by her over enthusiastic handler and he almost moved to aid her but the chief, for all his age, moved faster and jerked the rope from Owl's Eyes' hands and glowered at the brave.
"But I am not convinced that these two are the guilty ones!"
The crowd grew silent. The shaman's approach to the center of the conversation was heralded by the clattering of bones. "Then you call Silver Totem a liar!" he declared. "Even if these did not kill our braves, which Silver Totem says they did, even so..they violate the white man's promise not to come on to our lands before Red Hand says they may come! Silver Totem says the white man lies and he has not been proven wrong!"
The Chief looked very much older suddenly and bowed his head in a nod. Then looked up.
"This is truth Bone Shaker." He pointed at the tall man and the girl. "Take them to a teepee with the white chief's men and guard them. I must think of what the punishment for their trespass will be."
Jim felt himself being shoved and realized that he and Artie were now prisoners of the enraged tribe as much as the strangers were.
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The Doctor looked inside the dusty teepee but was shoved inside before his eyes could adjust properly to the gloom.
Leela glowered at him, ignoring the other two men shoved in behind her as she wagged a finger in his face.
"If you had let me keep my Janis Thorns we would never have been captured!" she hissed.
She looked ready to continue but the handsome man in the blue suit turned toward them with his fists clenched but his manner in check.
"You had better be able to explain who you are and what you are doing here." He crossed his arms and paced the short length of the teepee and turned back toward them. "Do you realize you have single-handedly destroyed 6 months of negotiations with Red Hand's people to avoid another Indian war...to avoid a land grab by miners...to avoid a massacre on both sides?!"
The Doctor paused and looked at the other man instead. Taller then the other man he watched them with large curious brown eyes and a crease of concern marring his broad forehead.
"You did very well out there you know!" he said putting out his hand amiably. The tall dark haired man shook it, glancing at his friend with a look of sudden confusion.
"Ummm...thank you."
"Not at all." The Doctor enthused. "Of course that Red Hand fellow was a quite intelligent as well. Still..." he frowned. "I didn't really like that short bony chap. Reminded me too much of...what was his name? Leela? Your Xoanon priest....uhhh?"
"Neeva." She provided while she kept her eyes on the man in blue, having determined him to be the greater danger at this time.
"NEEVA!" The Doctor exclaimed. "That's right!"
The man in blue stopped in front of them again and took a deep breath.
"Who are you?"
"Leela." Introduced Leela, in the way she had seen The Doctor introduce himself on occasion, and she thrust out her hand stiffly at the height of the man's chin.
This, The Doctor was glad to see, produced a quick, tiny, smile as the man retrieved her hand from the air to shake it. The Doctor smiled and thrust out his hand as well, only at a more appropriate height. "I am The Doctor." Then he waited with wide blue eyes expectant.
The men before them regained their balance after the inevitable pause most people experienced with The Doctor as they waited for more to his introduction.
"James West." Greeted the man in blue with a nod toward Leela.
"Artemus Gordon." Introduced the dark haired man with a more courtly bow to Leela which actually produced a blush, causing The Doctor to smile broadly at the man.
"We're federal agents, we were sent here to negotiate a new treaty which would allow for the gold, discovered in Red Hand's territory to be mined without the miners or the Indians killing each other or the government being forced to move them onto a reservation. But your arrival was a violation of our promise that no other white men...or women...would come onto their land until the treaty particulars were agreed upon."
The man was very angry, coiled with it, but apparently not as rash as one would expect from such a young buck. The Doctor smiled sympathetically with their situation then turned away from James West and pointed at Artemus Gordon.
"Who is this, Silver Totem, that the shaman spoke of?" The Doctor had cultivated his banter to the point that most people never realized they were being questioned by him until they had revealed far too much and then they generally underestimated him and felt that what they'd revealed would soon be forgotten by him anyway. Not this time. As the Dark haired man opened his mouth to answer the smaller, brown haired man grabbed him by his coat lapels and scarf with larger then average hands and jerked him off his feet forward, easily supporting his weight as he looked him square in the eye
"WE...ask the questions...YOU answer the questions...What are you doin...." Was as far as he got when Leela, a blur of movement out of the corner of his left eye, hooked one lean arm around James West's neck and secured her grip with her other hand locked firmly around her wrist. With a twist and jerk backwards the man's chin pointed up in the air and she leaned in to whisper in her victim's right ear.
"Let go of The Doctor or I will snap your neck!" And with a grunt from West it was apparent that his ward was applying meaning to her threat.
The Doctor's coat was released and he straightened, about ready to admonish Leela for her savage behavior. When The Doctor glanced to his right he saw Mr. Gordon's eyes widen with surprise and more then a little delight and The Doctor wasn't sure that that was necessarily a good reaction.
Then in another blur of motion James West grabbed the arm around his throat and rolled forward carrying Leela over his shoulder, until she hit the floor with a dirty thud and he rolled up onto her chest and pinned her to the floor with a less then gentlemanly smile playing on his lips.
The disturbance was settled when the Indians guarding the teepee ran inside and stared in surprise at the compromising position and West stood and extended a hand down to Leela which she batted aside and stood and skulked over to stand beside The Doctor. The two guards whispered something to each other that The Doctor suspected was very rude indeed and laughed as they left the teepee.
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James West was tired of surprises; though the opportunity to straddle a scantily clad woman was a surprise he didn't mind so much as he wanted to pretend.
"That was just dandy!" he groused. "Look...I need to know what you are doing here and why all the questions?"
The woman answered much to everyone's surprise. "I am here because The Doctor was trying to show me what a bubba...buff..alo looked like because I was working too hard learning to read and lost my temper and he probably feared that if I didn't get away from reading for a while that I would kill him with a Janis thorn out of spite! That is why we are here. But it is no matter! We ARE here, and you should LISTEN to The Doctor because he is older and wiser then you are and if you don't I may be tempted to use my thorns on you instead!"
The three of them stared but while Artie and Jim were simply confused the broadest of toothy smiles blossomed on the tall stranger's face, much like a proud parent watching it's precocious offspring. Then he scowled.
"Thorns?"
The girl lowered her eyes at the admonishment and smiled sheepishly.
"I keep one hidden...in my hair."
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Artemus Gordon watched events unfold with only one certainty.
That The Doctor wasn't the fool he permitted others to think he was. He watched the casual examinations of minutia while grinning inanely; all the while wild blue eyes that glittered with mad genius played the room and knew every nuance even if he personally didn't play by any rules of etiquette or conventional reaction. This man was as alien to this place as the man in the moon, yet oddly at home and understanding of the forms, but not feeling any need to abide by them. In a way he reminded Artie of Dr. Loveless. But while the eyes showed the same maniacal glee they held none of the malice that the insane little man's eyes held for the world.
No...this man was no fool.
And what's more, for no reason he could even think of or understand, he knew that this Doctor was more then an encumbrance...he may be a solution and Artie went with his instinct on this.
"You asked about Silver Totem." He said, ignoring the look that Jim gave him. "We tried to find out early in our negotiations...after a while we gave up. It seems to be another name for their Great Sky Father....their God...though I've never heard them refer to God by such a title before last year."
The Doctor nodded. "Yes...well...maybe they've had a recent revelation."
The woman, who now watched Jim with a suspicious caution, sank to the floor of the teepee and leaned against the center pole.
"Does the priest talk to his god in the open?"
Artemus smiled. "No...and that is odd. These are very spiritual people but their spirituality is rooted in nature...in openness." He looked at Jim who frowned as he listened...the ideas opening up in his head despite his suspicion of these two. "But this "God" only appears to the Shaker of Bones in a special teepee set up outside the tribe's encampment."
The Doctor chuckled. "A lot like Neeva. But...I wonder...who is on the other end of the telephone this time?"
"Tele-what?" Asked Artie, Jim and Leela in unison.
But they were ignored. The question was unimportant to the focus The Doctor had attached himself to.
"I think we should pay a call on God then."
He began to look around as though searching for something to use, perhaps in an escape, but Artie somehow knew it was better not to hazard a guess with this man.
"Doctor...is this like Xoanon?" The girl said this in a hushed tone and made a series of gestures that Artie had never seen before but reminded him of a Catholic gesturing at a particularly upsetting thought to garner protection.
"I don't believe so...I don't usually make mistakes more then once."
The girl rolled her eyes.
Before any of this could be explained to the curious Artie or the more then agitated James West the tent flap opened and they were ushered out. It had grown dark and the way to the center of the camp was lit by torches and a huge bonfire in the center.
Artie walked beside Jim.
"What do you think of our friend The Doctor."
Jim glanced at the man as he stooped to wave at a small child hiding behind adults as they passed.
"I don't know...I want to get them out of here...back to the Wanderer if we can. I just hope we can make it out of here with our scalps." He whispered back.
Artie looked at the Chief as he came into view. "Red Hand is a good man Jim...smart...if there's a way he'll find it. He has to do it in a way that will satisfy his people." Artie watched the chief's face for any clue. "If not...the Shaman will step in and take over and we'll have a new Indian war and more then just us four will lose our scalps."
Jim nodded.
The sound around them died as Red Hand raised his arms high then lowered them. The Shaman's eyes glittered red and hard in the fire glow as he watched the proceedings hungrily.
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Leela stood beside The Doctor and held her chin up. This was a tribe chief pronouncing sentence, she would treat this with dignity.
The Chief spoke. "The people demand your lives. They say you lied. That white men have killed our people."
There were murmurs, but no outbursts this time.
"But I say that the warriors died another way and there is no proof that these whites killed or came to our lands to kill or mine."
The murmurs grew angry.
"But I will let the strength of champions decide whether the whites go free or die since the people disagree."
The man named West tensed, his jaw clenched and his fists curled and uncurled in a brief, automatic gesture. He began sizing up the warriors who stood by the Shaman, for Leela knew that the tribe's champion would come from that side of the argument. She watched him begin to shed his jacket and remove his empty gun belt. He had chosen himself their champion and prepared for it as a fighter should. She was impressed.
Red Hand continued. "Kills like Bear will fight..." he nodded to West. "James West. To the death."
The named warrior stepped out of the crowd. A full head taller then the tallest there West's head came to his chest and the brawny seasoned brave looked down with a pitiless, determined face.
The Doctor interrupted. "Chief...If we win...can we see Silver Totem?"
The Chief frowned. "It is forbidden. If West defeats Kills like Bear your only reward will be banishment from our lands."
"But what if we make the show more...interesting?" The Doctor grinned. Leela watched as the Doctor noted the gambling taking place on the sidelines and she felt an anxious prickling.
"Interesting?"
West rushed forward and pushed a finger into The Doctor's chest and this time Leela didn't stop him. The Chief's challenge had seemed fair to her and The Doctor was endangering their chances for survival.
"Stay out of this..." West shouted.
He would have continued but The Doctor grabbed Leela by the arm and sidestepped West dragging her forward.
"I bet a visit to Silver Totem, that Leela here, will defeat your brave!" he shouted to the crowd whose combined voice rose to a deafening roar.
"WHAT!?" Shouted West and Gordon together.