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He only hoped that she would not become too hasty in her decisions. She did have an explosive, stubborn nature.
He knew he would not be kept in the guardhouse long, not with so many people out there to speak up in his behalf. Even the colonel should give this a second thought. Patrick knew that Strong Wolf was a man of peace. How could he ever think that he would do anything to harm Claude Odum?
Patrick surely knew that he didn’t, yet had to play the role of a leader by arresting someone!
And too often it made a white leader look bigger in the eyes of the commumty of white people if an Indian was arrested.
If Strong Wolf discovered that was Patrick’s only reason for incarcerating him, Patrick would then have an enemy for life, and not only Strong Wolf, but the whole tribe of Potawatomis!
The fort came into view beneath the bright splash of moonlight. The wide gates were open. Strong Wolf was taken between them and on to the guardhouse.
When his horse was stopped before the guardhouse, a soldier came and yanked Strong Wolf from the saddle, making him stumble and fall.
Disgraced, Strong Wolf glared up at Colonel Deshong as he came and stood over him.
Gently, Patrick reached a hand to Strong Wolf’s shoulder and helped him up from the ground. “Strong Wolf, I don’t like this at all,” he mumbled. “But my hands are tied. You know that it looked bad as hell for you to get caught beside the burning cabin while another fire was set not all that far from Claude’s. Being out with your warriors, wearing war shirts, you look damn responsible. I had no choice but to arrest you.”
“You forget words of camaraderie so easily?” Strong Wolf said as he was led toward the door of the guardhouse. “Where is your trust in this Potawatomis warrior? Where is your understanding?”
Patrick stopped and turned Strong Wolf to face him. “Strong Wolf, can you stand there and honestly say that you did not set fire to Jeremiah Bryant’s bunkhouse? That you did not chase his horses out of the corral?” he accused. “I heard about the men attacking you and your warriors while you were on the hunt getting more meat for my men. I know that one of your warriors was killed. Can you say you did not avenge his death tonight? Can you?”
“I have my vengeance, yes,” Strong Wolf answered. “We burned the bunkhouse tonight. We set the horses free. But I did not burn Claude Odum’s lodge. I did not kill him. He . . . was . . . my friend.”
Colonel Deshong’s eyes wavered into Strong Wolf’s, then he nodded at the soldiers. “Take him away,” he commanded.
Strong Wolf spat at Colonel Deshong’s feet. “I will spit on the steaks you have made out of the deer I brought you if I get the chance!” he snarled between clenched teeth. “Your men will starve before my people hunt for them again!”
He was yanked away and shoved to a cell inside the guardhouse. His ropes were cut. Then he was left alone, where only thin streamers of moonlight came through the bars of the window on the outside wall.
Strong Wolf looked around him. He who loved the open spaces was nauseated by the foul odor of the dingy cell. He stared down at a tattered mattress that lay on the rough board floor.
His gaze shifted elsewhere, his insides tightening as he watched venturesome mice creep out upon the floor and scamper around.
Strong Wolf went to the window and gripped the iron bars. He peered outside, his heart aching to be free again to ride with Hannah, to lead her to a secret hiding place where they could make love.
He ached to be with his people, to teach, to help, to lead.
His thoughts went to Hannah again. “Will I ever again touch her soft skin?” he cried to the heavens.
Chapter 25
Be strong!
We are not here to play, to dream, to drift!
—MALTBIE DAVENPORT BABCOCK
Anxious to get to Strong Wolf’s village, to discuss plans of marriage with him, Hannah rushed through her morning chores of getting Chuck ready for the long day ahead of him.
She had just stepped into the parlor, to retrieve his cane that he had left there the night before, when she heard Tiny laughing about something outside, just beneath the open window as he talked with some of the cowhands.
When Strong Wolf’s name came up in the conversation, and Tiny laughed sarcastically, Hannah inched over to the window. She slowly drew the thin curtain aside and listened more closely, glad that she had opened the window earlier.
“They’ve got him this time,” Tiny said as he untied his horse’s reins from around a hitching rail. “I hope he rots in that damn guardhouse.”
Hannah gasped and paled. She moved directly in front of the window. “What is that you are saying about Strong Wolf?” she asked, leaning out so that he could see her.
Tiny turned sharp, angry eyes at Hannah. “Your Injun friend?” he snarled. “Seems your wedding might be called off due to his pending death!” He laughed boisterously when he saw the look of alarm in Hannah’s eyes. “Yup. He’s gone and got himself in a peck of trouble, and I had nothing to do with it, either. So’s don’t go rantin’ and ravin’ at me, accusin’ me of one thing or another.”
