wrong. What were you saying?”
“I asked if you were a Yankee soldier.”
“Would it matter if I were?”
“Actually, I don’t care one way or another,” Shannon sniffed haughtily.
Suddenly Blade went rigid, and she saw him look past her to a ridge rising behind her.
His voice was low and grating, his words terse. “Turn around and walk slowly to your horse. Don’t panic and don’t make any sudden moves. I’ll follow and help you mount. Then ride hell-for-leather back to the wagon.”
“Are we in danger?”
“Perhaps,” Blade said slowly. “We’re surrounded by Sioux.”
Shannon paled. She wanted to turn and scan the hills, but didn’t dare. Instead she did exactly as Blade suggested, walking on rubbery legs toward her horse.
“Stop!” Blade’s voice was harsh, his body taut. “It’s too late. Here they come.”
Chapter Four
T here was no longer a need for caution as Shannon whirled to face the danger descending on them. With pounding heart she watched twenty-five or thirty warriors ride down from the hills. They were dressed in full war regalia and gaudily painted. Shannon surmised that they were either returning from or on their way to a raid.
From what Shannon knew of the Sioux they were a fierce, war-like people, often referred to as the “terror of the mountains.” As they drew near, Shannon could see they were also a handsome lot, more than the Pawnee or others she had seen. Like Blade, they were tall and strongly made, possessing firm features and light copper skin. They appeared clean and well-kept down to their shiny black hair. Shannon also knew that since 1860 the Sioux had become increasingly hostile toward travelers across their land. They tended to attack small wagon trains and stragglers, for attacks on well-armed wagon trains were dangerous and brought immediate retaliation from the United States army.
Blade’s eyes narrowed into dark slits as the warriors surrounded them. His hands hung loosely at his sides, his body alert, wary but showing little outward emotion or alarm. To Shannon, Blade appeared thoughtful but watchful, and it struck her that he might have been expecting Indians to appear. Did it have anything to do with his searching the wagons? she wondered. Then all thought skidded to an abrupt halt as the Indians formed a circle around them and the leader nudged his horse forward.
Blade stood his ground. Shannon was amazed that he could appear so cool and emotionless at a time like this. Nothing in his expression gave Shannon a hint of his thoughts or what he intended. She would have been stunned had she been able to understand Blade’s words as he addressed the formidable warrior in the Sioux language.
“It has been a long time, Mad Wolf.”
Mad Wolf stared at Blade for several thoughtful minutes before a slow smile curved his lips, a smile that did not reach the black darkness of his eyes.
“Not nearly long enough, Swift Blade.” Recognition came slowly but surely to Mad Wolf. “We thought the white man’s ways claimed you long ago. Why do you return?”
“To see my mother and grandfather,” Blade answered. “I have never abandoned my mother’s people. Even while I fought in the war I knew I would return one day. What are you doing here? Are you making war on the white man?”
“White men kill our buffalo, they trample the prairie and despoil our hunting grounds,” Mad Wolf spat angrily. “They tell us we must stay on the reservations and starve while they steal our lands. The old ones might be satisfied to sit in front of their tipis and dream of bygone days, but the young warriors band together to drive away the whites.”
“You and the others face an impossible task,” Blade observed. “There are more white men than blades of grass on the prairie. They travel West in great numbers and you cannot stop that which is inevitable.”
“Perhaps not, but I will die trying,” Mad Wolf snarled. Fierce determination and hatred twisted his
“I asked if you were a Yankee soldier.”
“Would it matter if I were?”
“Actually, I don’t care one way or another,” Shannon sniffed haughtily.
Suddenly Blade went rigid, and she saw him look past her to a ridge rising behind her.
His voice was low and grating, his words terse. “Turn around and walk slowly to your horse. Don’t panic and don’t make any sudden moves. I’ll follow and help you mount. Then ride hell-for-leather back to the wagon.”
“Are we in danger?”
“Perhaps,” Blade said slowly. “We’re surrounded by Sioux.”
Shannon paled. She wanted to turn and scan the hills, but didn’t dare. Instead she did exactly as Blade suggested, walking on rubbery legs toward her horse.
“Stop!” Blade’s voice was harsh, his body taut. “It’s too late. Here they come.”
Chapter Four
T here was no longer a need for caution as Shannon whirled to face the danger descending on them. With pounding heart she watched twenty-five or thirty warriors ride down from the hills. They were dressed in full war regalia and gaudily painted. Shannon surmised that they were either returning from or on their way to a raid.
From what Shannon knew of the Sioux they were a fierce, war-like people, often referred to as the “terror of the mountains.” As they drew near, Shannon could see they were also a handsome lot, more than the Pawnee or others she had seen. Like Blade, they were tall and strongly made, possessing firm features and light copper skin. They appeared clean and well-kept down to their shiny black hair. Shannon also knew that since 1860 the Sioux had become increasingly hostile toward travelers across their land. They tended to attack small wagon trains and stragglers, for attacks on well-armed wagon trains were dangerous and brought immediate retaliation from the United States army.
Blade’s eyes narrowed into dark slits as the warriors surrounded them. His hands hung loosely at his sides, his body alert, wary but showing little outward emotion or alarm. To Shannon, Blade appeared thoughtful but watchful, and it struck her that he might have been expecting Indians to appear. Did it have anything to do with his searching the wagons? she wondered. Then all thought skidded to an abrupt halt as the Indians formed a circle around them and the leader nudged his horse forward.
Blade stood his ground. Shannon was amazed that he could appear so cool and emotionless at a time like this. Nothing in his expression gave Shannon a hint of his thoughts or what he intended. She would have been stunned had she been able to understand Blade’s words as he addressed the formidable warrior in the Sioux language.
“It has been a long time, Mad Wolf.”
Mad Wolf stared at Blade for several thoughtful minutes before a slow smile curved his lips, a smile that did not reach the black darkness of his eyes.
“Not nearly long enough, Swift Blade.” Recognition came slowly but surely to Mad Wolf. “We thought the white man’s ways claimed you long ago. Why do you return?”
“To see my mother and grandfather,” Blade answered. “I have never abandoned my mother’s people. Even while I fought in the war I knew I would return one day. What are you doing here? Are you making war on the white man?”
“White men kill our buffalo, they trample the prairie and despoil our hunting grounds,” Mad Wolf spat angrily. “They tell us we must stay on the reservations and starve while they steal our lands. The old ones might be satisfied to sit in front of their tipis and dream of bygone days, but the young warriors band together to drive away the whites.”
“You and the others face an impossible task,” Blade observed. “There are more white men than blades of grass on the prairie. They travel West in great numbers and you cannot stop that which is inevitable.”
“Perhaps not, but I will die trying,” Mad Wolf snarled. Fierce determination and hatred twisted his
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