Had the white painter threatened her?
It was possible. After all, the man had almost struck her, and he would have hit her had Strikes Fast not missed her on the trail and then set out to find her.
What the man had attempted to do to her was considered by the Pikuni and by his own people, the Crow, to be worse than telling a harmful lie. And, to his people, a man who would use his physical strength to harm his woman in order to control her was no man at all.
Indeed, had the white painter not been under the protection of Gray Falcon and the Pikuni brothers—Eagle Heart and Chief Chases-the-enemy—Strikes Fast would have killed the man outright instead of merely intimidating him.
He had wanted to kill him.
It was a shame he'd had to hold himself back when what he'd desired to do was rid the world of the reason Daasé Isée had lost her smile. He recalled again the cheerfulness of this woman after having made her a part of his family. He had witnessed a glow of happiness within her eyes he'd not seen there before, and he had watched her spirit blossom under the influence of a people who loved her enough to call her "sister."
And then, right before their move to the winter camp, the white painter had treated her in a way that only a bad man would do. Whatever threat he'd thrown at her, she was settling it by running away.
But, she didn't know this country; she didn't realize its dangers or what might lie in store for a woman who was so pretty. Therefore, it was his duty to ensure she reached Fort Union without harm. He would see her safely there, and then perhaps he might visit his own people, the Crow. He had certainly been away from them for a long time.
But then, what was there in the Crow camp for him now? Almost all of his family was gone, killed in a single raid by a deadly enemy of the Crow: the Blackfeet. Were it not for the two medicine men, Eagle Heart and Gray Falcon, Strikes Fast would still hate the Blackfeet.
But, he couldn't; not any longer. He had been too accepted into their lives and into their camps to feed his hatred of them.
Suddenly, he was pulled back to the present; he had sensed a foreign movement within the natural order of this, the world of the Plains people. Closing his eyes, he peered into the environment through the eyes of a medicine man.
He saw then a war party of Cree Indians across the Missouri River, and they were watching the white man's tiny boat-that-walks-on-water, as well as the line of men who tugged her through the furious currents of the river.
Were the Cree considering attacking the boat? If this were so, what was their reason to launch an assault? Food? Horses? Revenge for some wrongdoing? The beautiful woman, who even now stood outside her room, bracing herself upon the tiny boat's deck?
Perhaps the Cree were merely curious about the odd-looking boat and the many men required to pull her through the strong and swirling fury of the water. It was, after all, well known the Cree were good friends with the whites in their own territory.
Settling down behind a bush, Strikes Fast made himself as invisible as possible and forced his mind to think of nothing—a precaution in case there were a medicine man amongst the Cree party; if his thoughts were too prevalent, a medicine man would sense his presence.
He waited, knowing that soon the Cree would either make their move against the whites, or would move along to find other prey. Perhaps, because of the time of year, the war party would leave in order to find and kill enough meat to last through the coming winter.
If the members of the war party were married with women awaiting their return, it was likely they would simply leave to hunt. However, if the warriors were young and without a woman back in camp, they might attack the boat.
Strikes Fast would have to patiently wait until the Cree either left, or made their move. Either way, he would protect Daasé Isée.
