As he left the barn, he found Bloody Knife mounted and circling the grounds, his head down as he studied the earth. When Winslow jumped into the saddle and rode up to him, the Ree raised his head, his obsidian eyes gleaming. “Go that way,” he said, pointing toward the low-lying hills to the west.
“How many?”
“Maybe six—seven. They take two shod ponies.”
Winslow looked at the hills, thinking hard. “They’ve got a long start on us, Bloody Knife. The dark will catch us, and we won’t be able to track them.”
Bloody Knife nodded, but said, “We catch up tomorrow.”
“They know they’ll be followed, so they’ll be moving pretty fast,” Winslow said doubtfully.
“We get them Indians tomorrow,” the Ree said. He hated the Sioux with a passion, and his lips turned cruel. “We kill them all, Winslow!”
“If they see us, they may kill the captives.”
“They no see. Come!”
Tom Winslow was an adequate tracker, but not in Bloody Knife’s class. He followed as the Ree pushed forward, his eyes fixed on the ground. As he rode, he found himself trembling, and tried to shake off the fear that came to him. He had seen women and children after the Sioux had finished with them on their raids, memories he wished he didn’t have. Now as he followed Bloody Knife he found himself praying, “God—let us find them! I don’t care about myself, but don’t let Laurie and Faith be harmed!”
****
The attack had come as Faith was making breakfast. She had awakened at dawn, gotten up and dressed, then built a fire in the cookstove. Laurie was sleeping soundly, and there was no reason to get her up. Faith smiled as she sliced the bacon, thinking of the past four days. The time had been enjoyable for both of them. Laurie had discovered that Faith had a playful side, and the two had played games, sometimes giggling as though they were both ten years old.
“You’re more fun than anyone,” Laurie had said sleepily as Faith had tucked her in the previous night. “I wish I could stay with you all the time!”
This had pleased Faith, but she had said, “This has been a special time, Laurie. A vacation. I have to work hard, and most of the time it’s not nearly so much fun out here.” She hesitated, then said, “You have a fine time with Miss Eileen, don’t you?”
“Oh yes,” Laurie nodded. “But she doesn’t—” She couldn’t find the expression she sought and reached up and pulled Faith’s head down to kiss her. “Can I come and stay with you a lot more?”
“I’d love that. We’ll see if it can be worked out,” Faith had said.
As she put the bacon in the iron skillet and it began to sizzle and curl, she thought of that moment with a smile. Then she heard a sound and turned, thinking it was Laurie.
She gasped, the smile freezing on her lips! There before her stood two half-naked Indians, their faces streaked with paint! Her hand went limp and she dropped the skillet. Her heart raced with fear, for she knew why they were there. The rifles in their hands and the long knife half lifted told the story.
She had thought of such a thing happening, but there had been no way to prevent it, living alone out on the prairie. Now she forced the cold fear away and said, “You startled me. I didn’t hear you ride up.” She bent over and picked up the skillet and put it on the stove. Her mind raced for something to say and she asked, “Are you hungry?”
The taller one, with a lantern-like jaw, said, “Want whiskey!”
Faith shook her head. “I don’t have any. But I have much food.”
The tall one spoke a word to his companion, and the two moved to the cabinet, pulling canned goods out, dropping the cans on the floor with a clatter. When they found no whiskey, Faith tried again. “Let me fix you food.”
Both of them glared at her, and at that moment two more Indians came in, both carrying guns. They fixed their eyes on the woman, grinned, and one of them said something to the tall Indian, who was evidently the leader. The others laughed, and the speaker came forward and grabbed Faith by the arm. She let no trace of fear show on her face, and the leader spoke sharply, at which the Indian dropped his hand at once.
“Fix food—quick!” the tall Indian said. “Where your man?”
“I have no man,” Faith said quickly. “Just one little girl is here.” His face was cruel as he looked toward the door that led to the bedroom. Moving quickly he opened it and stepped inside. Faith started to follow, but was grabbed immediately by the other Indian who had come with the leader. She heard a startled cry and then a muffled sound. Faith cried out, but then the leader appeared, grasping Laurie by one arm. The child’s eyes were wide with terror, and she tried to escape. When the Indian released her, she flew to Faith.
“Don’t be afraid,” Faith said, holding her tightly. “God will take care of us.”
The lantern-jawed warrior stared at her, then said, “God sometimes sleep.”
Faith shook her head. “Not the true God. He sees us at all times. What is your name?”
“Ansito.” He added with a gleam of humor in his eyes, “Means ‘killer of men’ in white man’s tongue.” When her expression didn’t change, he asked curiously, “You no afraid?”
Faith breathed a quick prayer, then said, “I know that you may kill us, Ansito. But you may die, too. We live with death every day—all of us, red and white.”
Her answer caught his attention. His face showed little, but he said, “Fix food.”
“Help me, Laurie,” she said quickly, and the two hurried to prepare the meal. One of the other Indians, a short, muscular warrior, said something, Ansito grunted an assent, and the Indians went through the house, whooping and destroying. Faith ignored them, giving her attention to keeping Laurie busy. She cooked huge piles of bacon and eggs, and when it was ready, she said, “Here’s the food, Ansito.” She put her arm around Laurie, holding her close while the Indians gobbled the food down, using their fingers. When they consumed that, she opened all the cans of fruit she had, and they devoured that as well.
Finally they finished and began arguing. Faith had learned just enough of their language to understand that two of the Indians wanted to burn the station and kill her and Laurie. She kept her face expressionless, knowing that to show fear would not help any more than begging for mercy.
She turned to Ansito and asked, “You have children, Ansito?”
He nodded. “Two boys, one girl.”
Faith said, “I have a school here. I came to teach Indian boys and girls. If you will bring your children, I will teach them.”
“What you teach?” he demanded. “White people take land from Indians. They make promises, then lie.”
Faith said, “Some white men lie. Not all. Some Indians do bad things, yes? But some of us love the Indians. God is the same, and He loves the Indians.”
“White man’s god!”
“No, the God of all,” Faith said. His face was sullen, but she spoke in a normal tone of voice, telling him of her desire to help. She was aware that there was little mercy in the man, but at that moment God gave her a peace in her heart.
When she ended her words, Ansito did a peculiar thing. He drew his long gleaming knife and came to stand before her. He held the tip of it to her breast, watching her face carefully. “I kill you, white squaw,” he whispered, and his followers grunted assent.
Faith knew fear, but shook her head. “My life is in God’s hands, Ansito. Be kind to the child. She has done no wrong.”
Ansito pushed the knife until it touched her chest. She felt the tip of it penetrate her dress, then her skin, but said, “God loves you, Ansito. He is a good God.”
Suddenly the warrior pulled the knife back and thrust it into his belt. An angry cry went up from one of the other Indians, but Ansito spoke sharply. “Take what you want. We will take woman and child. Sell them.”
The Indians rushed through the house, taking everything they wanted, then moved outside. “You come,” Ansito said, motioning to the door.
“Let me get cl
othes?” Faith asked, and when he nodded in a surly fashion, she and Laurie got what they could, then went outside. Ansito kept looking around, and finally said, “Saddle ponies.”
Faith and Laurie quickly saddled their horses just in time, for Ansito cried out, and the band swept out of the yard, bearing plunder stuffed in sacks.
As they left the mission, Laurie turned, tears running down her cheeks. But she said, “Don’t worry, Miss Faith. My daddy will come for us!”
“Yes, he will, Laurie,” Faith nodded. “But don’t say anything to the Indians.”
All morning they rode at a fast pace, taking a break at noon. They made no fire but ate the canned goods they had brought from the mission. Faith and Laurie shared a can of beans, which they ate from the can; then all too soon Ansito called out, “We go!”
All day they rode, though the pace slowed, and that night the Indians made a fire, cooked up some of the quarter of beef they’d found in her larder, and ate the whole thing. Faith asked for some for Laurie, and one of the warriors threw her a chunk of half-cooked meat, which she and the girl ate. Afterwards she and Laurie slept under the single blanket Faith had managed to bring, clinging together for warmth, for it was very cold.
The next morning Faith heard them arguing back and forth, and again she sensed that only Ansito’s curt orders kept the others from harming them. Later when they stopped for a rest and a drink at a small stream, she said, “Ansito, I thank you for being kind. God will reward you.”
“What kindness?” he demanded abruptly.
“I understand some of your tongue,” she said. “Enough to know that your word has kept us from harm.”
He seemed embarrassed by her words. “I will sell you for money or trade for horses. You will both be slaves of Sioux people.”
“That may be,” Faith said. “But I know what your warriors want to do to us. You have kept us from harm.”
He stared at her, but made no answer. She sensed the cruelty in the man and knew he would kill them with no remorse if the situation changed. She was convinced that God had worked a miracle, and she kept on praying for deliverance.
That afternoon the sky darkened, and a hard rain fell just at dusk. They stopped next to an overflowing creek and set up camp. Faith and Laurie were soaking wet and found a way to change into the relatively dry clothes they’d brought. There was no way to do this modestly, so the two knew they were being scorned and laughed at.
Darkness came quickly, and the Indians cooked a very small doe that one of them had brought in. As it was sizzling, Faith sat holding Laurie close to her. Ansito squatted across from her, staring into the fire, his face coppery in the flickering light. When the meat was done, the warriors gorged themselves, but did throw a small portion to her. It was half raw and had a strong taste. “Try to eat a little, Laurie,” Faith encouraged.
After the band had eaten, Ansito said, “Little Wolf, go watch.” The Indian rose and disappeared, and the other four began gambling, a game involving a wooden object. They are just like unruly children, Faith thought, watching them, yelling with joy when they win and becoming sullen when they lose.
Ansito took no interest in the game, but sat wrapped in silence, his gaze glued to the fire. Faith wanted to move over to speak to him, but Laurie, worn out from the hardships of the journey, had gone into a deep sleep.
Half an hour passed, and the gamblers began to get bored. Faith grew drowsy, her head bobbing with weariness. She was about to pull Laurie into the blanket and go to sleep when a voice cut across the silence.
“We have come for the woman and the child.”
The warriors leaped for their guns, but the crack of a rifle sounded and one Indian fell, shot through the head.
“You will all die if you resist.”
Now awake, Laurie whispered, “That’s my daddy!”
Faith glanced across at Ansito, who was peering into the darkness for the man with the voice. The tall Indian had no weapon save the knife in his belt. “Who comes?” he asked, lifting his voice.
“I come for the woman and the child. Let them come to me and you will live. You are in my sights, Chief. If I pull the trigger you will die.”
“A chief does not fear death!”
“I know that. But there is no need. If you had harmed the captives, I would have killed you all. Now I see they are all right. Let them go, and we will leave you in peace.”
Ansito looked toward Faith, his eyes fixed on her. Faith said calmly, “God is giving you the gift of life, Ansito. He is rewarding you for protecting our lives.”
Ansito stood motionless during the tense moment. Then he nodded. “Perhaps true. You go now.”
Faith jumped up, took Laurie’s hand, and ran toward the voice. She saw where the horses were tethered and rushed over to mount. When they were both in the saddles, they nudged their horses forward. They had not gone far when a shape appeared, and her heart leaped when she saw it was an Indian, but then recognized the Sioux lookout. He put his hand to his lips, cautioning her to be quiet as he guided her down the path.
As the two of them rode away, she heard Tom Winslow say, “Your life for theirs. Do not try to follow us.”
Ansito said, “Take them. We will not come.”
Faith and Laurie continued down the trail, peering into the darkness. Soon they heard the sound of horses coming. Then Winslow appeared, his face tense in the faint moonlight. He halted his horse, reached over and pulled Laurie from her saddle. He held her without saying a word, and finally asked, “Are you all right?”
“Yes, Daddy! They didn’t hurt us at all!”
“Thank God for that!” he said. He put Laurie back in her saddle and moved over to Faith. His eyes were filled with concern. “They didn’t harm you?”
“No. I told the chief God would reward him for not harming us.”
Bloody Knife came up, muttering, “Better go now!”
They rode away quickly, the Ree falling behind to be sure they were not followed. When they were five miles away, Winslow said, “I’ve been pretty scared.”
“I knew you’d come for us,” Laurie said proudly. “Didn’t I tell you he would, Miss Faith?”
“Yes, you did, Laurie,” Faith replied. She smiled warmly at Tom as she echoed Laurie’s words, “I knew you’d come.” The tension had eased, leaving her weak from the ordeal, but oh so grateful.
All the way back to Bismarck, Tom tried to define what was in his heart. He knew part of his fear had been for Laurie, of course, but not all of it. When they got to town, he took Faith to the Owens’ house, at her request. After the excitement of their return was over, Tom had a few moments with Faith, but he tried not to show his feelings.
Then she looked up and said, “I’ll never forget it, Tom, how you came out of the darkness to save us.”
He stood there, looking down at her, and the confusion he’d felt over her seemed to fade. He said simply, “Faith, when I thought something might have happened to you, it was as if the sun went out.”
“Why—Tom!” She was taken aback by his statement and impulsively put her hand on his chest. “What a nice thing to say!”
He reached out and wrapped his arms around her, holding his face against her hair, and was astonished to find he was trembling. He held her until it passed, then drew back, an odd look on his face. “You’ve got a way of making a place for yourself inside a man, Faith.”
He released her and walked away quickly as though he were afraid to stay, afraid he’d say more than he should.
Faith watched him go, astonished by his act. You have a way of your own, Tom Winslow—of getting inside a woman’s heart!
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The Seventh Pulls Out
On the sixteenth day of May a general order went out: The command would leave the following morning. On the eve of departure, the officers held a ball on the regimental street, and all the ladies from town attended. The couples danced to the music of the band, swinging around in the glow of the campfires.<
br />
Eileen joined the throng, looking at the fringes of the crowd to see if she could find Tom. At length, she saw him with Laurie, and waved to them. Since this was an officers’ ball, he could not come to her, so she danced with Cooke, Moylan, and several other officers—and later, Spence Grayson. She listened while he told her about the campaign as he swung her in and out around the other couples, seemingly enjoying himself. Then his eyes turned cold. Quickly she followed his gaze: Faith Jamison had joined Tom and Laurie.
“You heard about Faith and Laurie?” she asked.
“Yes. They were very lucky.”
His tone was so abrupt that she said, “You sound grim, Spence. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” he replied. “I’m just thinking of how short life is and how few times we get what we want.” After a couple of turns around, he smiled down at her and said, “What am I doing? Here I am with a fine-looking woman and spouting grim philosophy!”
She accepted his apology, though not satisfied with his vain attempt at covering up.
Across the way, Faith had seen the look Grayson gave them, but said nothing to Winslow. Since he had rescued them from the Indians, she had seen him twice—once when he came out with Laurie to help repair the damage the Indians had done, and again in town just for a few minutes. She had known he’d be here at the ball, for Laurie had told her he’d promised to bring her so she could watch the celebration. This time Faith had sought him out, but he seemed tense, and she wondered if it was because of the emotion he’d shown when he’d left her at the Owens’ house. She herself had thought of the hard embrace he’d given her and the choking sound in his voice. Could it have meant nothing? She’d asked herself that question often, and now she was almost certain it had not concerned her, but had been his way of unleashing his strain over Laurie’s abduction and near disaster. Still, it was a precious moment to her, though she’d never speak of it to anyone.
How surprised Faith would have been had she been able to read his mind, for he was thinking of that moment with a sharp sense of regret, spinning his thoughts into a pool of confusion. He had made an offer to Eileen, yet he felt drawn to Faith. He remembered her firm body pressed against his, and how his whole spirit had reached out for her. He’d been more shaken by her captivity, by the possibility of her death, than he’d thought possible by any woman anymore.
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