PROLOGUE
Fort McKenzie, built where the Missouri and the Marias Rivers meet
Northwest Indian Country
The Season of Home Days, August 1840
Crack! Blast!
Sharon Wells screamed and awakened to the sound of bullets spitting overhead, followed by ear-shattering explosions. Placing her hands over her ears, she hunkered down in her bedding of soft furs and blankets, reaching toward the place where David, her fiancé, should have been.
But, he wasn't there. Bringing up her hands to cover her head, she tried to become invisible while the whiz of bullets crackled overhead.
What is going on? Why am I under attack? And, where is David?
Because the night had been warm and pleasant, both she and David had spent the evening in each other's arms under a canopy of stars. A painter, David had earlier placed his art equipment of canvas, easel and paints on a wide ledge overhead. From there, David had said he hoped to capture the early-morning sunrise, immortalizing its image onto the canvas.
Kaboom! Blast!
Shaking, Sharon assumed a fetal position, and, so great was her fright, she began to convulse as though she were seized by a fit, there under the cover of the soft fur blankets.
Wherever you are, please hurry back to me, David!
Peeking out from the warmth of her covers, Sharon saw it was still dark; it perhaps being the time of day when the world was blanketed in the extreme darkness before dawn. Had David awakened and left her to climb the bluff, hoping to paint the beauty of the sunrise?
If so, why hadn't he taken her with him, especially since he often bragged about how she inspired the best artistry in him?
She wasn't allowed to answer the question, however, because suddenly, and from out of nowhere, the running feet of perhaps hundreds of men rushed by her, seemingly without seeing her. With a force of will, Sharon controlled her quivering and, unable to stop herself, peeped out again from beneath her blankets.
The sight of Indian warriors made her sob, and she thought she might faint. Each one was stripped of all clothing except for his breechcloth and moccasins, and each was painted in black, white or red colors which covered his face and body. Each man she could see was carrying a rifle, as well as the more familiar Indian garb of quiver, arrows and a bow.
As she shivered and tried to make herself invisible, a feeling of utter terror overtook her. Why, oh why had she ever agreed to come to this far western land?
Luckily for her, during the night she and David had placed their bedding beneath a tall pine tree and the enemy warriors were ignoring the tree, racing by her as though they were each one hurrying to be the first to launch an attack upon some poor victim. Was their target the Pikuni camp? Or were they attacking the traders' fort?
Trying to force her body to be as motionless as possible, she was aware she wasn't able to do it. She was shivering, and she cried silently as she waited until there were no more warriors fleeing by her. Then she stirred uneasily, because her thoughts were of two minds: she desperately wished to arise and climb the bluff in search of David, but fear kept her in place, mute and fearful of making a single move.
Meanwhile, down below in the Indian encampment came echoes of the awful sounds of blasts and screams. Had the Pikuni people awakened to find themselves facing this horror?
It was then that she excused David for his absence, since it was he who had suggested they spend the evening on this butte. Had he not done so, she might even now be experiencing the fate of the people below.
But, what about my dearest friend, Amelia, who will still be down there in the Pikuni camp? Should I leave my hiding place and rush to try to find her?
Instinctively, Sharon knew she didn't dare go down into the Pikuni camp. Instead, she would pray that Gray Falcon, Amelia's beau, would protect her.
Then upon the early morning atmosphere came the sound of many pairs of heavy feet running back up the butte as quickly as possible. Was the enemy fleeing? Had the Blackfoot warriors sent them scurrying?
Yes. It seemed to her as if the enemy were in full retreat. Too late it occurred to her that she should have left her hiding place and climbed the tree above her for added protection, but there was not the time to scamper up it now. Instead, she covered her mouth to keep from screaming and tried to control her shivering. And, crouching down, she waited.
Hours seemed to pass before the sound of the battle was little more than a single shot heard here and there. Down below in the Pikuni camp came the inevitable wails of the women. Obviously, people had been either injured or killed.
Still, Sharon waited and waited, so terrified she could barely move. However, as time went on and she heard no more sounds of the battle, she raised her head and peeped out from the blanket of furs. No one was about.
Slowly, she sat up onto to her knees and glanced quickly around the environment. In the east she could see the beginning of a gray haze announcing the coming of the sun. Would now be the right time to set out to find David? It was still dark enough to provide cover for her, yet it was light enough so she wouldn't lose her way.
Picking up the buckskin blanket and throwing it over her head and shoulders both for protection as well as a disguise, she came up to her feet and stepped toward the path leading upward toward the high butte—the one where she and David had set out his equipment.
Hopefully, David, too, had successfully hidden from the enemy warriors. She forgave him his negligence and perhaps even his cowardice since she couldn't imagine him fighting these Indians; he was ill-equipped to go into battle, for one reason. Although he always carried a gun for self-defense, he would have been caught unprepared to fight off this kind of enemy.
