Savage Hero (19 page)

He knew of Mary Beth's courage, but would it be strong enough to fend off a possible attempted rape in the middle of the night when the world was quiet and dark and only those with evil on their minds roamed?

Suddenly Brave Wolf's thoughts were averted elsewhere. A large herd of elk had become excited when they caught the scent of Brave Wolf and his warriors riding so close to them. Their sharp hooves stirred a swirling cloud of dust as they raced away.

Brave Wolf looked over his shoulder at his men and saw that they were watching the departing animals regretfully. He knew they longed to give chase and send arrows into at least one of the elk for the meat it would bring to their cooking pots.

A moment later the men looked away, for they had a mission today and it had nothing to do with hunting for food. They were hunting for a young child who had been taken by renegades.

Although his warriors had already searched for the boy, Brave Wolf continued to hope they might find the child for his mother.

He knew that the pony soldiers might also be out searching this morning. He might even come across them. He would ignore them and go on his own way, for he did not ever wish to align himself with soldiers under Colonel Downing's command.

The elk were no longer in sight. All that was left were swirling clouds of dust, and soon even they
were gone. It was a beautiful morning with an azure sky overhead. It was the sort of day on which he would enjoy taking a ride with Mary Beth. He could see her smile even now, radiant and beautiful. He could see her lovely reddish-gold hair blowing in the gentle breeze.

Brave Wolf looked quickly to his left when a movement in the brush caught his eye, then watched a deer bound away on its stiff, springy legs.

He saw that this second temptation to have food for their dinner pots could not be ignored by his warriors. He saw one of them notch an arrow to his bowstring and aim, but he lowered his bow and arrow when a lovely spotted fawn came into view, following its mother from hiding.

He smiled at Brown Fox as his warrior took the arrow from his bow and slid it back in place in his quiver. Neither Brave Wolf nor his warriors ever took a mother from its baby, and most certainly no fawn was ever killed. The fawns were the promise of future hunts.

They rode onward for a while; then Brave Wolf saw a lone bull buffalo, a straggler from a herd that had moved through the area late last night.

He saw its fatness, and although he and his men had not gone in pursuit of the elk, or downed the deer, Brave Wolf could not let this animal go.

It would mean many things to his people. The
pte
, or buffalo, would provide fresh meat for immediate cooking, fat and dried flesh for pemmican, robes for beds and winter apparel, tanned
hides for leggings and women's garments, as well as tepees.

But it was the meat of this bull that made stopping and killing it worthwhile. It was one of the fattest bulls he had seen in many sleeps!

He looked over his shoulder at his warriors and saw the eagerness in their eyes. He knew they did not want to ride on past, either.

He knew they understood the importance of this animal to their people. Due to the whites killing off buffalo, the herds had been thinned out. When one did have the opportunity to hunt one, it must not be ignored.

“My warriors, this one is mine,” Brave Wolf said, only loud enough for them to hear. He did not want it to travel on the wind to the bull.

“It is mine to kill, but everything about it will be equally divided among us all,” Brave Wolf was quick to say.

He needed this hunt to help take away some of his uneasy thoughts about Mary Beth.

He would shoot the animal himself, but leave two warriors behind to take from it what they could as he rode on with the others to continue their search for the child.

His warriors nodded, but they still notched their own bows with arrows in case they were needed to protect their chief if the bull happened to corner him.

Brave Wolf notched his own bow with an arrow from his quiver.

He rode in a slow lope toward the bull, and just
as he came close enough to shoot, the creature lifted its head, snorted, and turned to run in the opposite direction.

Brave Wolf gave chase.

He placed the reins in his mouth, holding them between his teeth, and anchored himself solidly on his steed as he thrust his knees tightly into its sides, then rode with his bow and notched arrow ready for shooting.

When he got close enough, and he could see through the cloud of dust that the bull's hooves were kicking up, he leaned toward the animal.

He carefully aimed and then loosed the arrow from his bow. The bowstring twanged in the early morning air.

He smiled when the arrow flew true and struck its mark in the bull's side. The bull fell quickly to the ground, then, snorting, managed to get to its feet again and began running through some spruce trees down to the edge of a creek.

Brave Wolf followed. He slung his bow over his shoulder and took the reins in his hands. The bull stopped, slumped to the ground again, then surprised Brave Wolf by getting to its feet again and lumbering onward.

This continued over and over again until finally it fell still beside a tree.

By then all of Brave Wolf's warriors had come up behind him. They stayed on their steeds as Brave Wolf dismounted.

He hung his bow over the pommel of his saddle, then slowly, carefully, stepping clear of the
hip-deep ferns, inched his way over to the bull.

He was careful because he could see that the bull was still breathing, its sides heaving, its life's blood pooling on the ground beneath it.

Just when Brave Wolf thought that the bull was dead, and he had stepped up to it, he saw its tail move, and before Brave Wolf could draw his knife to finish the kill, the bull had leapt to its feet and slammed into his chest, throwing Brave Wolf onto his back on the ground.

The bull stood there, staring at Brave Wolf and shaking its head.

Red froth dripped from its mouth and its eyes had turned red with blood, yet it still lived.

Before any of the warriors could ready their bows with arrows, the bull pawed the ground and switched its tail, then leaned down and with its nose turned Brave Wolf over onto his stomach.

Just as it was ready to stomp on him, a warrior dragged Brave Wolf out of harm's way as four others sent a volley of arrows into the bull's side, downing it, this time, forever.

Brave Wolf leaned up and saw the arrow-riddled animal.

His heart pounded as he thought how close he had come to being mauled by the bull. From now on, he had to keep his mind clear of everything but the hunt.

He had been thinking about Mary Beth when he went to stand over the bull, thinking that some of the meat would feed not only her, but also her
son, because he was determined to find David today.

That moment of distraction had almost been his last.

“You are alright?” asked Blue Thunder, a favored warrior, as he helped Brave Wolf to his feet. “My chief, you were not as careful as usual. What if you had been alone?”

“
Hecitu-yelo
, yes, what if I had been alone?” Brave Wolf said thickly.

He wiped beads of perspiration from his brow. He looked at those who had saved him.

“My warriors, all of the bull's meat, and everything you can take from it, is yours,” Brave Wolf said. “Stay behind and take what you can, then return safely home to your families.”

“But you downed it first,” Blue Thunder said. “It is rightfully yours, not ours.”

“It is yours, take it,” Brave Wolf said, then hugged each of the four who had again proved their worth to their chief.

Saying nothing more, Brave Wolf went to his horse, swung himself into the saddle, then rode off with the remaining warriors.

Brave Wolf glanced down at the blood that had spattered on him from the bull as the animal had turned him over as though he were nothing more than a leaf. Today he had cheated death once again.

If with me you'd fondly stray,
Over the hills and far away.

—Gay

It was a quiet morning. Two days had passed, and the soldiers had not been able to find David.

Feeling so many things, Mary Beth stood at the back window of the cabin, peering at the stark, tall walls of the fort.

She was glad that no one had tried to accost her again, yet she still didn't feel safe.

In fact, she felt like a prisoner.

The only time she had any contact with anyone was when food and fresh water were brought to her. Colonel Downing was always the one who came with those things.

She could not help feeling uneasy with him. She
could tell that he was motivated by something other than kindness. It was in his eyes as he slowly raked them over her. It was in the husky thickness of his voice when he spoke to her.

She had just been waiting for one move that would prove her right . . . that he was going to try to seduce her.

“I must get out of here,” Mary Beth said, nervously pacing.

She gazed at the doeskin dress that she had laid out on the bed today, with every intention of leaving the fort and returning to the Crow village.

But she just didn't know how to break that particular news to the colonel.

When he discovered that she was not just a person who had been rescued by Chief Brave Wolf, but a woman who wanted to go to him and live with his people, she was afraid he would be furious.

Especially if he knew her plans to marry Brave Wolf.

She had no idea what his reaction would be.

And she couldn't just leave the fort without telling anyone. The sentries would see her and report it to the colonel.

Yet for many reasons she no longer had any faith that the soldiers would find David. They hadn't even found Blackjack Tom.

She shivered when she recalled that evil man's fingers on her throat. She reached a hand up and slowly, softly rubbed her throat, where bruises still gave evidence of the man's assault on her.

She was afraid for Brave Wolf to see the bruises.

Who could say what his reaction might be?

She didn't want to cause him to confront the soldiers on her behalf, when it had only been one of them who had taken advantage of her.

She went to the doeskin dress and picked it up, holding its softness to her cheek. Yes, she wanted to wear this dress . . . not the one with the perfume of a dead woman on it.

She glanced over at the chair where two more dresses lay folded neatly. Colonel Downing had brought those to her so that she could have a change of clothes.

He had even brought some nightgowns, but she had not gone near them.

It gave her a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach just to imagine wearing them since she knew who had worn them, and with whom.

Yes. She must go now and tell the colonel her decision. No matter what he said or did, she would get on her horse and ride away from the fort and those who resided in it.

She had begun to feel more ill at ease by the minute. She was longing to go back to the Crow village, where she felt safe.

She just prayed that Brave Wolf and his warriors would somehow find her son.

Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of never seeing David again, or holding him.

No. She
must
keep hoping that he was alive, and unharmed. She had heard how young white boys
were adopted into Indian tribes and raised as one of them.

She had heard of those who were called “white warriors.”

They were white men raised from childhood as Indians.

She shuddered at the thought of David ever becoming an unwilling “white warrior” for a renegade tribe, forced to ride against his own people.

Determined to stop thinking such things, and to get on with what she must do, she placed the doeskin dress back on the bed, then took a deep breath and left the cabin.

She always felt eyes following her when she was out in the open courtyard. She knew that the men still resented her presence, especially since they could not have their own wives there.

She lifted the hem of the dress and coughed when the dust stirred beneath her feet as she walked toward Colonel Downing's office. When she noticed the men staring at her feet, she dropped the dress again quickly. She was still wearing Indian moccasins.

When the colonel had tried to change Mary Beth's appearance, he had offered her his wife's shoes. She was glad that they hadn't fit, for she would have refused to wear them. It was enough to be wearing his wife's clothes.

She rushed onward and hurried into the colonel's office. Once inside, she stared through the cloud of cigar smoke and saw that the colonel wasn't at his desk. He had surely been there only
moments ago, for a cigar was still smoking away in an ashtray on his desk.

Then she became aware of voices carrying down the corridor from the direction of the colonel's private quarters.

She walked quietly into the corridor, then went and stood just outside the door that led to the colonel's lovely parlor. She leaned closer to the door when she heard the colonel say something, and then someone responding. It was obvious there were several men having a meeting with the colonel in his private quarters.

She was disgruntled to realize that she must postpone her own discussion with him. She started to turn and leave, then stopped abruptly when she heard the colonel speak Chief Brave Wolf's name. He laughed almost wickedly as he continued talking.

Trembling, she eased closer to the door and pressed her ear against it, then grew more upset by the minute as she listened to the plans being made against Brave Wolf and his people. The colonel made mention of his brother and cousin, who had died at the Battle of the Little Big Horn, saying he had waited long enough to act on his anger over these deaths.

It was apparent to Mary Beth that the colonel was out for vengeance as he vowed to kill as many redskins as he could.

Then he again mentioned one warrior in particular . . . a chief . . . that he wanted to kill, the one that had brought Mary Beth to the fort. He said it
made his skin crawl to know that such a lovely woman had been anywhere near Injuns. But it infuriated him to think that she had been with Brave Wolf.