Not only did the camp look deserted, the white-covered wagons still stretched out in lines across the prairie. There would be no cover for them against the storm.
Looking closely, he saw that the white men had turned their wagons so that their mules’ backs were to the wind. He recognized the position as being one that the white men used when they meant to sit out a thunderstorm.
Sit outthisstorm? Were they crazy?
Hadn’t Julian told these people to seek shelter? And if he had, why were they still here?
For an instant, Swift Hawk experienced a feeling of unreality. Did the white men believe that their wagons would protect them from the whirling winds? Or did they simply not believe Julian?
Whatever the truth, every person in the caravan should be in action, not sitting here like rabbits awaiting the kill. Did they not know that even if the whirling winds did not touch down here, the debris kicked up by the storm could maim or kill animals, could destroy property, could take lives?
“Red Fox,” said Swift Hawk, “take these ponies and secure them in that coulee that we passed on our way here. Tie them well, my friend, and then return here at all speed.”
Red Fox nodded. “I saw you send off the white scout, Julian. Did you not tell him to warn these people?”
“I did. But something is wrong. I will find the wagon master and see if I can discover why the white man is still here.”
Nodding, Red Fox said, “E-peva’e,” and turning, he darted away as quickly as the fast winds would allow him to proceed.
Swift Hawk reined his own pony toward the front of the caravan where he hoped to find the wagon master. He was not disappointed. There was the man, Kit Russell, who was not only in the grips of turning his mules against the winds, he was cursing so loudly he could be heard over the upheaval of Nature.
Notwithstanding, Swift Hawk sought him out at full gallop, controlling his pony until he was within an arm’s distance of the man. Abruptly, he stopped.
“Whoa, there!” It was Russell speaking. Reaching forward, he grabbed hold of Swift Hawk’s leather reins.
Swift Hawk didn’t lose a word of explanation but came directly to the point. “Why are you still here?”
Russell cursed. “I don’t have time ta answer yer questions, Injun. I got work ta do. Leave here!”
When Swift Hawk didn’t go away and instead stood his ground, Russell removed his hat and slapped it against his thigh. “Don’t ye know, savage, that we never run the mules durin’ a storm?”
Swift Hawk ignored the word “savage”. This was no time for prejudice, his own or Russell’s.
Swift Hawk said, “Did not the white man tell you? You must seek shelter at once.”
“What white man?”
“The scout we call Julian.”
“Naw,” said Russell. “Ain’t seen him.”
Swift Hawk registered this in an instant, but there was no time for speculation. “You must seek low ground at once and wait out the storm there. This is not the same kind of thunderstorm that comes upon you every day, showers you, and then meekly limps away. These are the whirling winds of the prairie Wind Spirit.”
“The what?”
“The whirling winds.” He pointed toward the west. “Do you see the low clouds there and how fast they are moving? Do you see the lightning, hear the thunder that swiftly approaches? And there, do you observe that cloud in the west? Can you see how it tries to dip down to the earth?”
Russell looked westward. “Good God, are ye saying a twister is comin’? Here?”
“Yes.” A brisk gust blew at him, and Swift Hawk’s pony began to dance. Calmly Swift Hawk pulled on the reins to settle the animal. “Your caravan, your wagons, your animals and perhaps some of your people will be destroyed if you do not seek low ground at once. There is a coulee, a short ride northeast of here, just over that ridge.” He pointed. “Red Fox has gone there now with meat that will see this caravan through the next few days. You also have enough time to make it there, if you can rouse your men together and start immediately.”
“I don’t believe it. A twister, here?” asked Russell, as though he hadn’t heard anything Swift Hawk had said. “A coulee, ye say? Northeast? Just over that ridge?”
Swift Hawk nodded.
“Naw, it can’t be,” said Russell, almost to himself. “See here, my outriders say it’s only a lightnin’ storm, and we’ve weathered plenty of ’em. Besides, see how fast the clouds are a’coming? Don’t think we’d ever make it to some damn-fool coulee in time. If we stay here, at least we’re prepared. Better that than to get caught out in it.”
Swift Hawk sent the man a derogatory frown, and warned, “Stay here at your risk. If you stay, youwillbe caught out in it. If you start for the coulee now, at least you might have some protection, for I think that most of you should make it.”
