Where We Stand

by Angela White

  Quinn nodded in eager pride, opening the book. The first paragraph got his attention and held it completely.

  “This base is where the soldiers will come to make their own camp. From here, they’ll punch out troops to wherever we are. If they take this building, they take Safe Haven.”

  Quinn glanced up in horror. “We can’t hold this place with only 17 men.”

  “That’s why I have to go visit some friends,” Marc answered. “Turn to the last page.”

  Quinn did it quickly, reading.

  “If I don’t come back, this all falls to you. Keep them out as long as you can and buy SH time to hole up at Lookout Mountain.”

  Marc slid his hands under his neck as he laid on the cot. They’d brought the beds up to this one room and the barracks feel of them bunking together had Marc’s mind drifting contentedly through past moments of glory, searching for anything he could use.

  “When you know you’ve lost it, go blow the traps we and the supply teams have put down. Block every avenue of approach that you can as you go.”

  The Eagles took turns studying the book when Quinn handed it around, and Marc let himself go to sleep, relaxed for the last time on this mission. From here on out, life would get incredibly hard and become more satisfying than even working under Adrian.

  2

  An hour before dawn, Brady woke Quinn and gestured for him to follow.

  Kit over his shoulder, Marc looked west. “I’ll be in Oklahoma if something unexpected happens and you need me. I’ll be on a southeast to northwest route.”

  Quinn walked Brady out of the building to find Jax and Paul waiting by their vehicles.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Marc asked.

  “With you.”

  Marc grinned. He hadn’t thought any of them would want to leave the relative safety of the base. “I’d be glad of the company.”

  Marc held a hand out to Quinn. “Do it how I would. Be me. They’ll come around.”

  Quinn shook it with eager happiness. He’d never been given control of anything in his life, but he’d dreamed of the day he would get to prove himself. Now, here, he would finally get the chance to be proud of himself. Brady had put him in charge. Brady had faith in him. That was enough to convince Quinn that his time for glory had come, and he went inside with a set jaw. When Marc returned, he would find the list finished.

  3

  It took them three days to reach the area Marc wanted, one of those spent trading in their loud bikes for horses, and he had furthered their training while they traveled.

  The two Eagles were soaking it up, confident that Marc knew what he was doing. He’d earned their respect with his courage. The fact that he was taking them deep into Indian lands, hoping to convince them to fight, was amazing. That they might die hadn’t sent either rookie back when they’d heard the plan.

  Marc had confided in them while showing Jax how to saddle the wild horses they’d broken only enough to be rideable. It helped that it hadn’t been so long since the horses had been used for it, but catching them had been rough. Paul had been a huge help. He clearly didn’t mind animals.

  “If we can convince even one tribe to fight with us, it will pull the others in,” Marc had told them.

  “Won’t they all want to fight?” Jax had asked. “Surely they don’t want the government here.”

  “Of course not, but they were nearly wiped from existence once. They’ll be sure of the outcome this time.”

  “They’ll be leery. We can’t just ride up, explain what’s coming, and ask for help. That will get us killed,” Paul had remarked.

  “What’s the plan?”

  Marc had smirked at the eager tones. “Ghosting, of a sort.”

  Now, riding through Choctaw lands, Paul thought he understood better. Observing Marc, learning from him, was incredible and sometimes surreal. He was so quiet! Even on an animal he wasn’t familiar with, Brady was dangerous, like he’d bended the horse’s will to match his.

  “We’re not alone,” Jax picked it up suddenly. “We’ve got a tail.”

  “This isn’t going to be easy,” Marc warned the men on either side of him. “They had to obey the laws before. That isn’t the case now.”

  Paul understood some of what they were about to face and was scared. He was also excited. He came from a family that hadn’t believed in exploring their roots, but Paul had missed not knowing where he came from. He’d always felt a connection to these lands, these people.

  “You’ll follow my lead, then your training, then your instincts. Is that clear?” Marc drilled.

  Both men agreed, thrilled to be a part of what Marc had told them over the last days. If his plans worked, Safe Haven wouldn’t have to worry.

  “We’ve got fresh eyes on us, I think,” Paul stated, enjoying the comforting creek of the saddle beneath him. He’d also missed riding. “Closer.”

  “They’ve been there since we entered tribal lands,” Marc confirmed. This was it.

  “I mean closer, like we’re about to be…”

  Spaatt!

  The arrow sank into the tree on Paul’s right and all three Eagles came to a quick stop.

  “Be still,” Marc instructed, observing only the riders in front of them.

  The Indians didn’t want them here. That was the first thing they all picked out. The second was that there were a lot of them, and they appeared like the proud natives of legend, not the drunken troublemakers the world had been told of for so long. They’d reclaimed their heritage.

  Marc stayed pointed forward, voice low. “They’ll look for fear. Do what I do.”

  The sound of softly padding horses came to their ears, but neither of the men glanced around for the source. The Indians ahead of them were stern-faced shadows without paint, but loaded with weapons.

  Marc felt the demon tense as his gifts were sensed and went with plan B. His voice rang through the area in haughty pride.

  “The Ghost wishes to cross your lands.”

  The trio held still as silence filled the woods. Not even the birds made noise.

  The soft pad of an unshod horse came from the right and Marc bowed his head.

  Paul and Jax hurried to do the same.

  “White men are not allowed here.”

  “No other men are allowed here,” another warrior added, voice guttural with hatred. “Kill them now.”

  “The Ghost does not trespass. He comes to barter passage,” Marc informed them, making sure they understood what he was to be addressed as.

  “What does he bring to barter with?”

  Marc slowly raised a hand toward his saddle bags. “Medicine.”

  “We need none of your killer poisons!” the guttural warrior spat. “Kill them!”

  “It will help with the radiation sickness and the miscarriages you’re people are having.”

  There was a thick silence as a horse covered in a sheen of sweat came around to take a blocking position in front of them. It told Marc that this was part of a second group that had ridden hard to catch up.

  “Why does a trio of hard-asses come here alone?”

  Marc locked gazes with the obviously important Indian now in front of him. “Will you accept my barter? I can add these horses, but we’ll need to ride them to the edge of tribal lands. Our business is important.”

  The warrior stared with a weathered, impassive face, but Marc knew he understood what was happening even before the man spoke.

  “The soldiers have woken. You are one of them.”

  “I was before, when there was no choice,” Marc answered. “Now, there’s a different future waiting for my people. As there is for yours.”

  “We stay here and have been left alone except for trespassers,” the warrior stated arrogantly, tone implying he wasn’t sure if that’s what he’d found.

  Marc knew better than to let the demon do any pushing yet and kept him locked down. “The soldiers are coming, a thousand strong. We go to slow them down, to buy time for o
ur camp to get away, to kill as many as we can.”

  None of the braves reacted, but tension filled the woods.

  The warrior in front of them, carrying gray and leathery skin, searched Marc for an endless moment. In that look, was awareness.

  “You are from Safe Haven.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  The warrior skimmed over Marc’s men and his tone curled with scornful. “Those are not Ghosts.”

  Marc didn’t argue. “Braves in training–rookies.”

  The Indian didn’t crack a grin, but Marc thought maybe he wanted to. Marc guessed he might be talking to the relative of a chief and waited respectfully for the man’s choice.

  “Three men to stop an army. The odds are not with you.”

  “If the Creator wills it, we’ll die. We don’t question the path we’ve been put on,” Marc stated gravely. “We do our duty to our people.”

  “He lies!” guttural warrior shouted. “He dies!”

  Marc pulled the demon forward a bit and turned to inspect the warrior. The menace in his stare was impossible to miss and guttural warrior fell silent, confused and leery.

  Marc turned his head to the warrior in front of him.

  The leader stared hard, face betraying some of his surprise. Thaddeus didn’t back down from anyone–ever–and Natoli respected Mac instantly.

  “We will escort you out of our lands, in exchange for the medicine,” Natoli decided.

  Marc gestured for Paul to get it. “Would you like to hold our weapons?”

  Now there was a reaction from the braves. To offer to ride defenseless among your enemy was fearless.

  Paul put the prepared bag in Marc’s hand and resumed his place.

  The warrior searched Marc for another long moment and then kneed his horse toward the west. “I am Natoli, of the Choctaw. It is a three day ride to tribal borders. You may hunt with knives and drink from the streams. If you kill anything else, we will do the same to you.”

  “We have rations,” Marc stated calmly. “I prefer to ride straight-through for as long as my men can stand.”

  “As you wish.”

  Marc waited until the line of warriors began moving, then gently kneed his horse. “Stay in my formation.”

  Paul and Jax went to their assigned places with no show of fear at the sheer number of horse-bound Indians now coming from the hills and woods to surround them.

  “Keep your hands away from your weapons, but don’t do anything else differently than you’ve been doing. Follow my lines.”

  The Indians didn’t like his words, but they did respect them. The others were exactly what he’d said–in training–but was he really the Ghost? If he was, that would change their own plans, the future.

  As they traveled, Marc could feel the nerves of his men, but also the curiosity of the braves and resumed the last lesson he’d been teaching them.

  “Noise can echo for miles,” Marc stated, striking a match on the saddle to light his hand-rolled smoke. Packs and cartons were things of the past. “We’ve gone over the items most common to give you away. Tell me what they were.”

  Jax spoke up first. “Keys, belts and buckles, straps.”

  “Gear that isn’t packed right,” Paul added, controlling his nerves. It helped to have something else to think about. “Also unsecured weapons.”

  “One minute of silence. Tell me what you hear.”

  It was eerie, the way the Indians instantly went quiet.

  They’d been talking lowly, adjusting and using things from their pouches and packs, but at Marc’s instruction, there wasn’t a single sound from them.

  It was completely unnerving and the Eagles forgot how to work around it.

  Marc’s voice was laced with a generous respect. “Those are Ghosts, gentlemen. That’s your goal.”

  Marc didn’t wait for that good wave to sink in before firing the next. “Pay attention to them and what they don’t do. It wouldn’t hurt to pick up a few things.”

  Natoli didn’t look back. It was beneath him to do so, but he allowed his pace to slow until his top braves were in the lead and he was even with Marc.

  He didn’t speak, but Marc knew he had questions. Instead of rushing to fill them in, Marc began to hum. After a minute or so, the two Eagles along for this ride joined in. Adrian’s favorite song reminded them too much of home not to.

  For the Indians, it was a connection they hadn’t expected. Riding and humming a soft, deep tune was something they’d been doing for centuries. For the Eagles, it was a calming habit that Brady had begun almost as soon as they’d left Safe Haven’s gates.

  Like he’d known we would need to do this, Jax thought, no longer as rattled.

  Natoli continued to search Marc in long glances that Marc refused to respond to. These were native people with strong traditions that were finally free to flourish unrestricted. When they finally asked questions, he would be ready. Until then, it was a companionable ride and he could keep training. Where Marc was hoping they would end up, Paul and Jax would need all the help he could give them.

  4

  Marc dozed lightly in the saddle as they rode through the thick woods. The trees here weren’t covered in mold and it made for sweet, clean breezes that relaxed a man’s heart and helped him see what mattered.

  Sensing movement on his right, Marc heard Paul shove Jax into his place and picked his next reaction. All of them were dozing–they’d been traveling for a full day and night since joining the Indians–but Jax kept falling in too deep.

  “Your man is weary. You may sleep here unharmed,” Natoli offered.

  Marc began rolling a fresh smoke. “No. He’ll keep up or go.”

  Jax did what none of them expected. He slapped himself three times, fast.

  Marc approved as he rolled a second smoke. When he offered one to the warrior still riding next to him, it was taken.

  “We shall hear from my chief soon,” Natoli stated, also accepting Marc’s lighter. He inhaled lightly, getting the taste, and grinned before inhaling normally.

  Marc lit his own and let the smoke gather until he could shoot a large bubble into the sky. He popped a few simple rings with the last of the smoke and studied the warrior.

  Natoli had spent a lot of time in what his grandparents had been forced to call the civilized world and he recognized things about Marc. He spotted the cunning and subtle manipulations, but it was the request he felt coming that stirred his heart. He’d always longed to be there. He was sure his strengths could have helped his people keep their land, their lives, and their dignity.

  When Natoli didn’t offer any more conversation, neither did Marc. They were about to reach the first border, where the Choctaw lands became another tribe’s marked-off slot. He wondered if the tribes were still obeying the jurisdictions. No reason to now. They could return to their homelands. Marc was curious as to why they’d chosen to stay here, but after the trek he’d made since the War, it was clear they’d made the right choice.

  Jax began to slide–everyone knew what it was from the loud creaking–and Paul reached out to shove him again.

  Before his hand could get there, Marc turned and drilled Jax in the shoulder.

  Jax went off the other side of the horse and landed in a bewildered heap in front of guttural Indian’s horse.

  Thaddeus reigned up sharply with a scowl, but didn’t comment. The man had been punished for his negligence.

  As Marc stopped and stared, so did their escorts.

  Jax flushed a deep red. He picked himself up without saying anything and swung into the saddle without a grimace at the throb. Marc had a hell of a shoulder slide when he was pissed.

  “I’m not, really,” Marc stated. He’d had the demon listening in case Jax decided this was the time to let out that infamous temper. “You ready to give up that place yet?”

  Jax’s jaw was setting into rigid lines. “No, I’m not.”

  Marc turned around. “Good. You sleep when I do. Not before.”
r />   “Yes, sir.”

  The scouting party of Choctaw warriors continued to study these strange white men, but most of the escort party was already convince of their truthfulness. Now, they had to discover if Marc was the one they were waiting for. If he was, they would join his quest to defeat the treacherous white men. If not, all three would die.

  5

  Now that Marc had shown he knew how to control his men, he demonstrated that he also knew how to care for them. That was vital when a man was seeking someone to fight under him. Spilling blood wasn’t the only thing a man needed.

  “We’ll take a few hours soon and eat, sleep. Jax can cook, Paul can care for the horses.”

  On cue, Jax responded, “Rations or fresh?”

  “Stew,” Marc responded, slowly taking three throwing knives from a jacket pocket. He’d been scanning ahead with his grid, sure the Chickasaw scouts were close. He’d found an opportunity instead.

  “Dried beef stew or chicken?”

  Marc kneed his horse suddenly, using it to flush a thicket, and a small den of rabbits scattered.

  He used the knives in quick succession and then dismounted to retrieve his kill.

  “My thanks,” he murmured, snapping the neck of the hare he hadn’t killed with the last throw.

  Marc cut off the heads with his k-bar and then slit the rabbits from end to end as he held them up, keeping the blood from pooling in the meat. He quickly cleaned them out, not caring that he was holding up their convoy. This ten minutes would demonstrate many things.

  Marc didn’t take the time to skin the meat, but wrapped it in thick leaves from the bush the rabbits had been cowering in as the horses came by. He buried the rest of the mess, digging in quick jerks with his k-bar, and stored the meat in the top of a saddlebag.

  After he wiped his hands on a wet-wipe, he shoved it into his pocket to use as tinder later, and mounted up. “Make the flapjacks I showed you and be generous. We’ll pick up more supplies as we go.”

  Jax and Paul were in awe. They’d had no idea that Marc knew how to live like these Indians, but it was clear to them that they’d underestimated him. They’d thought to be doing more of the typical white man’s trickery, but Marc was the real thing and it was obvious that their escorts felt the same. As soon as Natoli picked an area, Marc was in conversations with the braves. It was good progress and his Eagles tried to listen as they went about the duties they’d been given.