close and spoke low so that his voice did not carry. “Father found me after the council broke up and took me aside. He asked me to make sure horses were ready and his packs from his mule were nearby in case he had to leave in a hurry.”
Winter Fawn stifled the low sound of distress that rose in her throat. There was no time for distress, and it was useless. Her father would leave when he wished. But not so soon! Please, not so soon. He’d only just arrived and she’d scarcely seen him.
“I hobbled the horses in the woods, away from the rest of the herd. Near them I hid his saddle and packs, bridles, rope, water, everything I could think of. But when I came back to camp, I couldna find Da.”
“Where did you look?”
“Everywhere I could. But I couldna very well look inside every lodge, now, could I?”
“Of course not.”
“I thought maybe he’d gone to talk to Crooked Oak, to try to convince him to give up the white man. That’s when I heard them.”
“Heard who?”
“Crooked Oak and some of the others. He said he was afraid our father would convince everyone to let the captive go free. He’s working himself up into a lather, saying that he’s going to go kill the white man now, tonight, and be done with it. We have to do something. The man is a friend of Da’s.”
“You’re right.” Winter Fawn clenched her fists at her sides. “We have to get that white man out of here. He won’t go without his sister and daughter. I’ll get them. Then you take them to the horses while I cut him loose.”
Hunter shook his head. “If one of us is going to get caught freeing him, it is better that it be me.”
“The only thing that is likely to get us caught is the noise the horses will make if you aren’t there to keep them quiet. I dinna have your gift. The horses dinna listen to me.”
Hunter might have objected again, but she turned away to get the girls.
She did not have to go back inside the tepee to get them. When she turned, they were there, standing outside the door flap, their pale skin glowing in the darkness, their eyes large and round with fear.
“Come, but quietly.” Winter Fawn held out her hand to the little one called Megan. “Go with Hunter, and I will bring your father to you.”
Winter Fawn waited until they disappeared into the woods at the edge of camp, then made her way quietly between lodges to the tree where the captive was tied. The moon was so bright she had no trouble avoiding the meat-drying racks, the skins staked out on the ground for tanning.
As if she had needed guidance, the captive’s white shirt glowed like a signal beacon in the dark.
Carson heard someone approaching and tensed. Even through four years of war he’d never felt as helpless as he did just then, as he had from the moment that afternoon when Bess had fallen from the wagon and he’d thought they were all going to die. Innes hadn’t been quite the protection he had promised to be.
Carson wanted to hate him for that, for giving him such a false sense of security. He wanted to rage at God, at fate, at anything and everything.
But Carson also knew he would be dead if Innes hadn’t been with them. He had no doubt of that. The girls might still be alive, but he couldn’t even let himself think of what would surely have happened to them at the hands of the Indians who had attacked them.
So much for his determination to never kill another man. He knew that if he had the chance right that minute, he would kill that leering arrogant bastard who had nearly scalped him, and the one who had grabbed Bess. He would kill all six of the warriors who had attacked them. The rage was icy cold in his gut, but hot in his veins.
Now someone was sneaking toward him through the dark, and here he sat, trussed up like a pig waiting for slaughter. The only thing missing was the goddamn apple for his mouth.
The night was so quiet he knew the Indian could probably hear him breathing. When the person stepped from the
Winter Fawn stifled the low sound of distress that rose in her throat. There was no time for distress, and it was useless. Her father would leave when he wished. But not so soon! Please, not so soon. He’d only just arrived and she’d scarcely seen him.
“I hobbled the horses in the woods, away from the rest of the herd. Near them I hid his saddle and packs, bridles, rope, water, everything I could think of. But when I came back to camp, I couldna find Da.”
“Where did you look?”
“Everywhere I could. But I couldna very well look inside every lodge, now, could I?”
“Of course not.”
“I thought maybe he’d gone to talk to Crooked Oak, to try to convince him to give up the white man. That’s when I heard them.”
“Heard who?”
“Crooked Oak and some of the others. He said he was afraid our father would convince everyone to let the captive go free. He’s working himself up into a lather, saying that he’s going to go kill the white man now, tonight, and be done with it. We have to do something. The man is a friend of Da’s.”
“You’re right.” Winter Fawn clenched her fists at her sides. “We have to get that white man out of here. He won’t go without his sister and daughter. I’ll get them. Then you take them to the horses while I cut him loose.”
Hunter shook his head. “If one of us is going to get caught freeing him, it is better that it be me.”
“The only thing that is likely to get us caught is the noise the horses will make if you aren’t there to keep them quiet. I dinna have your gift. The horses dinna listen to me.”
Hunter might have objected again, but she turned away to get the girls.
She did not have to go back inside the tepee to get them. When she turned, they were there, standing outside the door flap, their pale skin glowing in the darkness, their eyes large and round with fear.
“Come, but quietly.” Winter Fawn held out her hand to the little one called Megan. “Go with Hunter, and I will bring your father to you.”
Winter Fawn waited until they disappeared into the woods at the edge of camp, then made her way quietly between lodges to the tree where the captive was tied. The moon was so bright she had no trouble avoiding the meat-drying racks, the skins staked out on the ground for tanning.
As if she had needed guidance, the captive’s white shirt glowed like a signal beacon in the dark.
Carson heard someone approaching and tensed. Even through four years of war he’d never felt as helpless as he did just then, as he had from the moment that afternoon when Bess had fallen from the wagon and he’d thought they were all going to die. Innes hadn’t been quite the protection he had promised to be.
Carson wanted to hate him for that, for giving him such a false sense of security. He wanted to rage at God, at fate, at anything and everything.
But Carson also knew he would be dead if Innes hadn’t been with them. He had no doubt of that. The girls might still be alive, but he couldn’t even let himself think of what would surely have happened to them at the hands of the Indians who had attacked them.
So much for his determination to never kill another man. He knew that if he had the chance right that minute, he would kill that leering arrogant bastard who had nearly scalped him, and the one who had grabbed Bess. He would kill all six of the warriors who had attacked them. The rage was icy cold in his gut, but hot in his veins.
Now someone was sneaking toward him through the dark, and here he sat, trussed up like a pig waiting for slaughter. The only thing missing was the goddamn apple for his mouth.
The night was so quiet he knew the Indian could probably hear him breathing. When the person stepped from the
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