Song Of The Warrior by Georgina Gentry Page A

“On the contrary, Lieutenant, today, I came face to face with reality. Have you seen the conditions the Nez Perce are living under?”
    â€œRemember I’m new to the area, Miss,” he reminded her. “Besides, it’s difficult for me to be sympathetic when less than a year ago, savages slaughtered our gallant General Custer at the Little Big Horn.”
    â€œThose weren’t Nez Perce,” Willow corrected him, “the Nez Perce were never comrades of the Sioux or Cheyenne.”
    The lieutenant shrugged. “It’s hard for most of us to tell one Indian from another, begging your pardon, ma’am. I will say I admire you for going out to the camp with the trouble that’s brewing. You have an escort of course?”
    Willow shook her head and the officer looked stunned.
    â€œWhy, Miss Willow, is that wise? Some of those braves get roaring drunk and there’s no telling what they might do to a beautiful young girl—”
    â€œAnd, pray tell, just who is selling them the whiskey, Lieutenant?” She looked at him, smiling sweetly.
    â€œThe army can’t oversee every trading post in the whole West, ma’am,” he conceded.
    â€œLieutenant Warton, the Nez Perce have been on peaceful terms with the whites for almost a hundred years, ever since they helped Lewis and Clark survive their ordeal when those explorers crossed this country.”
    â€œNo longer,” he pointed out.
    â€œAnd whose fault is that?” she challenged with a toss of her dark curls. “However, I feel safe among them because I have Nez Perce blood.”
    â€œDo they consider you one of them?”
    She saw the triumph in his eyes at her uncertain hesitancy. “I-I suppose I’m sort of in the middle, Lieutenant; caught between two races and belonging to both.” Or neither, a small voice inside her said.
    The young officer bowed. “I am sorry, Miss Harlow, I didn’t mean to upset you, I only feared for your safety. If I can get General Howard’s permission, I’d like to escort you tomorrow if you insist on returning to the Indian camp.”
    â€œThat’s very brave of you.”
    He shrugged and sniffed in disdain. “Those Indians don’t scare me. I think faced with a real soldier, they’d turn and run.”
    Again she imagined Bear’s broad shoulders and rugged face. “I wouldn’t bet my life on that, Lieutenant.”
    The reverend joined them just then. “Well, Lieutenant, have you been monopolizing my ward?” He didn’t look unhappy about it.
    Billy Warton grinned. “I plead guilty, Reverend, and with your permission, I hope to monopolize more of her time. In fact, I’ve just offered my services to drive her out to that Indian camp. I worry about her safety.”
    â€œSplendid!” the old man said. “I’ll admit I’ve been concerned, but Willow does feel called upon to do the Lord’s work and help civilize her people.”
    â€œIf Miss Willow manages to do that,” the handsome young man laughed, “perhaps we won’t have to fight them after all.”
    Willow managed to hold her tongue. How often had the teachers at Miss Priddy’s lectured her on her rebellious spirit? She must squelch this tendency.
    The pastor peered at her over his glasses. “You’re very quiet, Willow, my dear, is there a problem?”
    She took a deep breath. “No, of course not. It’s very sweet of the lieutenant to accompany me out to the Indian camp. I appreciate his concern, seeing as how I’m a foolish female who can’t look after myself.”
    She waited for one of them to take offense, but since they both seemed to agree wholeheartedly, neither seemed to catch her sarcasm. She took the old man’s arm. “Reverend Harlow, you don’t look well. Perhaps we should leave early.”
    â€œPerhaps we should,” he conceded, “I am weary tonight,