pipe. Deep into the night Innes thought that sentiment was swaying slightly in favor of releasing Carson. Despite the shaking in his hands and the twisting need in his gut for a drink—just a small one, that was all he needed—he was elated.
Then Crooked Oak rose to his feet. “I would ask that we consider again tomorrow what to do. I would think on this matter overnight. I would pray on it.”
Aye, an’ you’ll be lookin’ for a way to slit the lad’s throat afore mornin’, Innes thought sourly. “What is there to consider? What would you do?” he asked Crooked Oak. “Kill him where he sits, helpless and tied to the tree? Where is the honor in such a thing?”
“The honor is in the death of an enemy,” Crooked Oak replied hotly. “You say you have been shamed by what has happened. What of my shame? I vowed to avenge the deaths of our friends. Instead of acting honorably, we sit around the fire and speak of honor. Like old men who are too feeble to do anything else.”
“There is no need to insult your elders,” Little Raven said sharply.
Realizing he had gone too far, Crooked Oak unclenched his fists. “I meant no disrespect. I meant only that I am a warrior of the Dog Lodge. I am supposed to kill our enemies, not talk about it.”
“You are also supposed to protect Our People,” Innes countered. “Yet you attacked whites only a few hours from this camp. What if the Army finds the abandoned wagon and follows your trail here?”
Another murmur rose from the crowd. This time it was mixed. The dog soldiers would welcome such a thing, for their blood was hot and they were tired of this peace Little Raven kept urging on them. But the women murmured in fear, for they had not forgotten the massacre of so many women, children, and old people of the Cheyenne and some Arapaho at Sand Creek.
A woman called Basket Maker jumped to her feet, panic in her eyes. “Kill him! Kill the captive quickly, I say. Hide his body and let us leave this place now, before the sun comes up. Let us be long gone from here before they come. They will slaughter us in our sleep. Our children and old people will be helpless against them. We will die! We will all die!”
The knot in Innes’s belly tightened, tore a hole that could only be filled by whiskey. He was losing them. Bloody damn and double damn.
“They will not come riding down on us in the middle of the night,” Little Raven said sharply. “And we are not defenseless as they were at Sand Creek. Do you think so poorly of our warriors? We will not panic and flee like cowards in the night.”
“Like women, you mean,” Crooked Oak said with disgust.
The meeting might have gone on all night, but a strong wind came up suddenly and played havoc with the big fire around which everyone sat. Sparks and hot ashes whirled upward in the gusts and were carried through the camp, threatening to set everything on fire. It was agreed that they would put out the fire and resume the discussion in the morning.
“For tonight, the captive will be neither harmed nor set free.” Little Raven looked at Crooked Oak, then at Innes. “I will have your word on that, both of you. All of you.”
Innes gave his word because there was nothing else he could do. So, too, did Crooked Oak, Two Feathers, and the others.
Hours later the wind had died and Winter Fawn lay awake in her blankets. For once her grandfather’s deep, rumbling snore from across the softly glowing embers left in the fire pit failed to comfort her; her grandmother’s lighter whistle, accompanied by the sound of lips flapping, failed to amuse. Her troubled thoughts and emotions left no room for comfort or amusement.
First in her heart was the excitement and pleasure over her father’s return. Oh, the thrill and joy of seeing him again! The agony of hoping that this time he might stay, this time he might show some small sign of approval, of affection, as he had when she’d been a child. Before the rabbit.
She knew she
Then Crooked Oak rose to his feet. “I would ask that we consider again tomorrow what to do. I would think on this matter overnight. I would pray on it.”
Aye, an’ you’ll be lookin’ for a way to slit the lad’s throat afore mornin’, Innes thought sourly. “What is there to consider? What would you do?” he asked Crooked Oak. “Kill him where he sits, helpless and tied to the tree? Where is the honor in such a thing?”
“The honor is in the death of an enemy,” Crooked Oak replied hotly. “You say you have been shamed by what has happened. What of my shame? I vowed to avenge the deaths of our friends. Instead of acting honorably, we sit around the fire and speak of honor. Like old men who are too feeble to do anything else.”
“There is no need to insult your elders,” Little Raven said sharply.
Realizing he had gone too far, Crooked Oak unclenched his fists. “I meant no disrespect. I meant only that I am a warrior of the Dog Lodge. I am supposed to kill our enemies, not talk about it.”
“You are also supposed to protect Our People,” Innes countered. “Yet you attacked whites only a few hours from this camp. What if the Army finds the abandoned wagon and follows your trail here?”
Another murmur rose from the crowd. This time it was mixed. The dog soldiers would welcome such a thing, for their blood was hot and they were tired of this peace Little Raven kept urging on them. But the women murmured in fear, for they had not forgotten the massacre of so many women, children, and old people of the Cheyenne and some Arapaho at Sand Creek.
A woman called Basket Maker jumped to her feet, panic in her eyes. “Kill him! Kill the captive quickly, I say. Hide his body and let us leave this place now, before the sun comes up. Let us be long gone from here before they come. They will slaughter us in our sleep. Our children and old people will be helpless against them. We will die! We will all die!”
The knot in Innes’s belly tightened, tore a hole that could only be filled by whiskey. He was losing them. Bloody damn and double damn.
“They will not come riding down on us in the middle of the night,” Little Raven said sharply. “And we are not defenseless as they were at Sand Creek. Do you think so poorly of our warriors? We will not panic and flee like cowards in the night.”
“Like women, you mean,” Crooked Oak said with disgust.
The meeting might have gone on all night, but a strong wind came up suddenly and played havoc with the big fire around which everyone sat. Sparks and hot ashes whirled upward in the gusts and were carried through the camp, threatening to set everything on fire. It was agreed that they would put out the fire and resume the discussion in the morning.
“For tonight, the captive will be neither harmed nor set free.” Little Raven looked at Crooked Oak, then at Innes. “I will have your word on that, both of you. All of you.”
Innes gave his word because there was nothing else he could do. So, too, did Crooked Oak, Two Feathers, and the others.
Hours later the wind had died and Winter Fawn lay awake in her blankets. For once her grandfather’s deep, rumbling snore from across the softly glowing embers left in the fire pit failed to comfort her; her grandmother’s lighter whistle, accompanied by the sound of lips flapping, failed to amuse. Her troubled thoughts and emotions left no room for comfort or amusement.
First in her heart was the excitement and pleasure over her father’s return. Oh, the thrill and joy of seeing him again! The agony of hoping that this time he might stay, this time he might show some small sign of approval, of affection, as he had when she’d been a child. Before the rabbit.
She knew she
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