The Crossed Sabres (34 page)

“He must have been a wonderful man, Tom.”

“Yes. You’d have liked him,” he said again, “and he’d have liked you. When I was about to die in that storm, I had some sort of dream—a memory, I guess. I heard him preach once when he was very old, and I never forgot it. He was a big man, powerful in every way, but I remember how gentle he was when he spoke of Jesus. I couldn’t have been very old when I heard him preach, but I recall him saying, ‘Many things don’t matter. How much money you have or if your name’s in a newspaper. The one thing that matters to every man on this earth is
Jesus.
He’s the answer to every need you’ll ever have!’ ” He paused, looked up at her, then said, “While I was going under, I heard him say that. Maybe I was crazy—but anyway, it got me up and going.”

“I think it was real, Tom,” Faith responded, tears in her eyes.

“Well, I don’t know what it means, but I do know I was wrong about the way I acted that day at your place.”

Faith waited for him to go on, but when he didn’t, she said, “Larry told me you and Eileen are going to be married.”

“Why, we’ve not said so!” he said, startled at her words. When she looked surprised, he asked, “Did you tell Laurie?”

“No . . .but Larry didn’t say it was a secret.”

“It’s just something we’ve talked about, Faith. I asked her to think about it, and she said she would.”

“I see.”

He saw that she didn’t see at all.

She went on. “Larry is taking it hard. He’s in love with her, you know.”

His eyebrows shot up. “No, I didn’t know it was that way with him!”

“He’s not one to cry in public, Tom. But I could tell.” She saw that her remark had disturbed him, so said quickly, “Goodbye. I’ll be praying for you.”

He got into the saddle, then took a long look at her. She had left her mark on his memory. He admired the full, firm lips and the clear shining eyes. There was something in this woman, he knew full well, that he would never find in another, and now he felt a faint regret as he said, “I’ll come back to get Laurie in a few days.”

She nodded, saying only, “All right, Tom.”

He put his horse to a gallop, and when he was a hundred yards away, he had to fight against the impulse that rose in him—to go back and try to explain how it was between him and Eileen. But he knew nothing he could say would make sense to her, so he clenched his teeth and rode at a dead run for the next mile, as if running away from something he could not bear to look upon.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Captives

“Tom! Tom Winslow!”

The sound of someone calling his name so urgently stopped Winslow short as he came out of the mess hall. He looked up as Nick Owens came running across from the adjutant’s office. Alarm hit him like lightning, and he cried, “Is it Laurie?”

“Yeah, Tom, it’s her and Faith! They been carried off by the Indians!”

“When?” The question shot from Winslow’s lips.

“Must have been last night, Tom. Zeno Bruton saw her last night, but when he went by this morning, she was gone and the mission was wrecked!”

“Where’s Zeno now?”

“At my store.” Stark fear emanated from his eyes. “Tom, we got to find them—!”

“I’ll find them, Owens!” Winslow broke in.

“All right, but hurry! You know what them red devils are like!”

Winslow ignored this remark and ran for the adjutant’s office. “Lieutenant Cooke,” he said, finding the officer talking with his corporal. “My little girl and Faith Jamison have been taken by the Indians. I need to start after them right now.”

“Good God, Winslow!” Cooke started. “Yes—we’ll get a troop mounted and on the way at once.”

“Send them to the mission, will you, Lieutenant? I want to get there and see the ground before the trail gets obscured.”

“You’re not going alone?”

“I’ll take Bloody Knife. He’s the best tracker.”

“I’ll send B Company, Sergeant. They’ll be at the mission as soon as they can make the ride.”

Winslow saluted, then whirled and ran out of the office. He found the Ree scouts at the stable, and all of them wanted to go. “Just Bloody Knife,” Winslow said. “It’s going to be a stalking matter, and the fewer of us the better.”

Ten minutes later he and Bloody Knife were pounding out of the fort. Each of them was mounted on a good horse and leading another. They crossed on the ferry, disembarked, and headed east at a dead gallop. When they were halfway to the mission, Bloody Knife called out, “Horses not last! Better slow down!”

But Winslow paid him no heed, and when they pulled into the mission, the horses they were riding were winded. “Change saddles to the other ones while I look around, Bloody Knife,” Winslow snapped. He ran across the yard and into the house. Every room was in shambles. The curtains were ripped from the windows, food had been torn from the shelves and scattered over the kitchen floor. Then he ran for the barn. It, too, had been damaged. He found traces of a fire in one area where the Indians had started a fire with some of the books, but it had smoldered and gone out.

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 clothes?” 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.