“You did? He was? You let him come here on his own?”
Swift Hawk bristled. “He is not a young lad that I should watch over him every moment of the day.”
She sighed. “Oh, Swift Hawk. Julian doesn’t really know what he’s doing. You know that. Alone, he…he could be anywhere. What if he’s injured somewhere?”
Swift Hawk frowned. “More likely he is lost.”
“But he could have run into some enemy tribe, or something.”
“Not today. There will be few enemies on the prairie when such a storm is about. And those who might be traveling would be scouts, and they would not harm him, since a scout willnever fight unless he has to.”
“But I have to know what has happened to him. Where did you last see him?”
Swift Hawk shrugged. “It was on the plain, on the other side of that bluff,” he said, pointing. “Four, maybe five miles from here.”
“That far? Four or five miles?”
He slanted her a frown. “It would be hard for me to say exactly how far, as I have little experience with what these ‘miles’ are. But I think it might be close to that.”
“Still, that’s enough time to have returned. Oh dear, I fear he must be injured. Otherwise he would have found his way back here. And if he is injured, he may not be able to get to a shelter.” She hiccupped, and as Swift Hawk looked quickly around, he beheld that Angelia was distressed.
Suppressing a sigh, Swift Hawk drew his brows together. He would have to find the lad.
“If you insist, I will go and seek him. But first I must lead you and this caravan to safety.”
He listened closely to hear whatever she had to say in reply, but it was a long time before she spoke again. “I don’t care about myself or this caravan. I care about Julian.”
“Do not fret. I have told you that I will find him if you desire it, but first I must ensure that as many wagons as possible are brought to shelter. It is my duty.” He watched as she bit her lip.
“Injun! Injun!” Russell rode up beside Swift Hawk. “You’re needed in the coulee. Some of us are already there, but none’a us can find a way into it. Come quick like.” Turning his mount away, Russell rode off in a northeasterly direction.
Spinning around, Swift Hawk gave Angelia an apologetic look, then rushed to his pony’s side, untying the animal from the mule team. Taking hold of the buckskin reins, he jumped up to the pony’s back. Before he left, he spun around toward Angelia. “Ensure your mules and your wagon find safety. As soon as I help the rest of this caravan into the coulee, I will leave to find your brother.”
And he was gone.
Chapter
Eighteen
“White man (said he), see ye that small cloud lifting itself from the prairie? he rises! the hoofs of our horses have waked him! The Fire Spirit is awake—this wind is from his nostrils, and his face is this way!”
Said by Red Thunder, a Native guide for George Catlin
—GEORGE CATLIN,LETTERS AND NOTES ON THE MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND CONDITIONS OF NORTH AMERICAN INDIANS
“Do you speak this man’s language?” Raising his voice above the storm’s din, Swift Hawk asked this of Kit Russell as the man made to pass by him.
“What? Who? That Frenchie over there? I reckon I might speak a bit a’ it.”
“E-peva’e.” Using the gestures of sign, as well as words, Swift Hawk continued, “Come here, then, and ask Pierre where the woman is who rides with this wagon.”
“What? Is she gone?”
Swift Hawk nodded.
“What happened? Was she left behind?”
“I do not know that. Not yet. Perhaps you could ask the Frenchman.”
