from the rack above the door, he started outside.
“No, Kincaid,” Shadow called after him. “The warriors will kill you on sight.”
“Then I’ll go,” I said resolutely.
“No, Hannah!” Mother said quickly. “I’ll not permit it. Shadow, tell her it’s too dangerous.”
“I’m not afraid,” I countered. “Anyway, I’m the only one here who speaks the language.”
“Curly, tell her she can’t go!”
“She will be in no danger from my people,” Shadow said. “The warriors will not harm a lone woman.”
“It’s settled then,” I announced in a firm tone. “I’m going.”
My folks were not happy with my decision, but they accepted it because there was really no other alternative. Shadow could not sit on a horse. And he was in no condition to be moved, not even on a litter, so taking him to Elk Dreamer was out of the question. And even if we could move him on a litter, it would take too long. At least a day—perhaps two. And I was desperately afraid that we didn’t have two days.
“How will I find the village?” I asked.
“Take Red Wind. He will go home if you give him his head.”
With everything decided, Pa went to help Shadow back to bed. But Shadow would not accept help, not even from me. Summoning strength from some deep inner reserve, he pulled himself to his feet and then, with his teeth clenched against the pain and sweat pouring down his face, he made his way back to the cot.
Ten minutes later I was dressed and ready to go. While I was putting on my heavy coat, I heard Shadow beg Pa to quit the territory before it was too late, before the scattered Indian raids mushroomed into all-out warfare.
Pa’s face got that stubborn “this is my land, too” expression, but before he could form a reply, the door to the trading post banged open, and Joshua Berdeen staggered into the room. He was covered with dirt and blood. His shirt was ripped down one side, and there was a bullet hole in the crown of his hat.
Startled by his battered appearance, I exclaimed, “Josh, what happened? Are you all right?”
“Indians,” Josh mumbled thickly. “They burned us out just after dawn. Killed my folks. Orin, too.”
Orin—dead! I remembered how we had laughed and played together in our childhood days, how he had whispered poetry in my ear and made me feel like I was the most wonderful girl in the world. And now he was dead, his cheerful laughter forever stilled.
For a moment we could only stare at Josh, too stunned to speak. I saw Pa glance anxiously at Mother and me. Hate for the Indians burned like a deadly flame in my father’s eyes. Unconsciously, he picked up the rifle propped against the counter, and his knuckles went white around the stock.
Expelling a long breath, Pa asked Josh if the Indians were headed our way.
Joshua shook his head. “No. I killed their chief in the last charge, and they ran for home.”
“Hannah, put the kettle on,” Mother said. “Joshua, sit down. You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” Josh murmured absently. “Just a flesh wound.”
But Mother was in no mood for argument. “It needs looking after just the same,” she insisted. “Hannah, fetch the scissors.”
I felt Joshua’s eyes following me as I moved across the room and then, suddenly, he was darting past me, his gun drawn, his eyes wild.
“Joshua!”
My father’s voice stopped Josh dead in his tracks. But the gun aimed at Shadow’s chest was rock steady, and Josh’s blue eyes continued to burn with implacable hatred.
“Let me kill him!” Josh pleaded. “Please let me kill the red son of a bitch!”
“Joshua, put that gun away. Now!”
“I can’t,” Josh replied. His voice was ragged with hate and grief. “You weren’t there…you didn’t see them! You didn’t see Orin, dying slow from an arrow in his guts. You didn’t see my Pa lying in the yard shot to pieces. You didn’t see my Ma…” Racking sobs tore at his throat, and his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.
“No, Kincaid,” Shadow called after him. “The warriors will kill you on sight.”
“Then I’ll go,” I said resolutely.
“No, Hannah!” Mother said quickly. “I’ll not permit it. Shadow, tell her it’s too dangerous.”
“I’m not afraid,” I countered. “Anyway, I’m the only one here who speaks the language.”
“Curly, tell her she can’t go!”
“She will be in no danger from my people,” Shadow said. “The warriors will not harm a lone woman.”
“It’s settled then,” I announced in a firm tone. “I’m going.”
My folks were not happy with my decision, but they accepted it because there was really no other alternative. Shadow could not sit on a horse. And he was in no condition to be moved, not even on a litter, so taking him to Elk Dreamer was out of the question. And even if we could move him on a litter, it would take too long. At least a day—perhaps two. And I was desperately afraid that we didn’t have two days.
“How will I find the village?” I asked.
“Take Red Wind. He will go home if you give him his head.”
With everything decided, Pa went to help Shadow back to bed. But Shadow would not accept help, not even from me. Summoning strength from some deep inner reserve, he pulled himself to his feet and then, with his teeth clenched against the pain and sweat pouring down his face, he made his way back to the cot.
Ten minutes later I was dressed and ready to go. While I was putting on my heavy coat, I heard Shadow beg Pa to quit the territory before it was too late, before the scattered Indian raids mushroomed into all-out warfare.
Pa’s face got that stubborn “this is my land, too” expression, but before he could form a reply, the door to the trading post banged open, and Joshua Berdeen staggered into the room. He was covered with dirt and blood. His shirt was ripped down one side, and there was a bullet hole in the crown of his hat.
Startled by his battered appearance, I exclaimed, “Josh, what happened? Are you all right?”
“Indians,” Josh mumbled thickly. “They burned us out just after dawn. Killed my folks. Orin, too.”
Orin—dead! I remembered how we had laughed and played together in our childhood days, how he had whispered poetry in my ear and made me feel like I was the most wonderful girl in the world. And now he was dead, his cheerful laughter forever stilled.
For a moment we could only stare at Josh, too stunned to speak. I saw Pa glance anxiously at Mother and me. Hate for the Indians burned like a deadly flame in my father’s eyes. Unconsciously, he picked up the rifle propped against the counter, and his knuckles went white around the stock.
Expelling a long breath, Pa asked Josh if the Indians were headed our way.
Joshua shook his head. “No. I killed their chief in the last charge, and they ran for home.”
“Hannah, put the kettle on,” Mother said. “Joshua, sit down. You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing,” Josh murmured absently. “Just a flesh wound.”
But Mother was in no mood for argument. “It needs looking after just the same,” she insisted. “Hannah, fetch the scissors.”
I felt Joshua’s eyes following me as I moved across the room and then, suddenly, he was darting past me, his gun drawn, his eyes wild.
“Joshua!”
My father’s voice stopped Josh dead in his tracks. But the gun aimed at Shadow’s chest was rock steady, and Josh’s blue eyes continued to burn with implacable hatred.
“Let me kill him!” Josh pleaded. “Please let me kill the red son of a bitch!”
“Joshua, put that gun away. Now!”
“I can’t,” Josh replied. His voice was ragged with hate and grief. “You weren’t there…you didn’t see them! You didn’t see Orin, dying slow from an arrow in his guts. You didn’t see my Pa lying in the yard shot to pieces. You didn’t see my Ma…” Racking sobs tore at his throat, and his voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.
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