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“Yes, that is so,” Sage said. “We will overcome them soon. But we must be cautious in how we approach them. Getting my wife back is more important than how many Kiowa we kill.”
Sage’s thoughts went to those warriors who had been killed. He ordered Spotted Feather to take others with him to return the dead to the stronghold.
Black Thunder rushed away to awaken many other warriors.
Once he saw that his orders were being carried out, Sage stamped away toward the corral. It was hard to control the rage that was searing his insides, yet for his woman he had to keep a level head.
Her survival depended on him.
And he would not allow himself to think that the Kiowa chief would take the time to stop to ravage his woman. He would keep thinking that her body would be left pure, to be touched only by her husband.
Chapter 19
Singing and loving—all come back together.
—COLERIDGE
With his bow slung over his left shoulder, his wildcat quiver of arrows poisoned with rattlesnake blood secured at his right, and his rifle sheathed at the side of his horse, Sage was ready to travel. He was not taking the time to share war songs with his warriors, or even to dress in his thick buckskin war shirt. He had stopped only to eat dried yucca for energy. Haste was of the essence, for the longer he tarried, the farther his wife was being carried away from him.
He was already riding through his village when a thought struck him. He brought his horse to a stop, his warriors following his lead, when he remembered Runner all alone in his hogan. If he awakened and found no one there, he would become alarmed and feel as though he were orphaned all over again.
Sage quickly explained to his warriors, then urged his horse into a hard ga
llop until he reached his hogan. Dismounting in a bound, he gazed over at Pure Blossom’s dwelling. Most people of the village had been awakened by the noise of the departing warriors. All but Pure Blossom. He looked at her hogan but still saw no signs of her at the door, and he did not think it wise to awaken her. She needed the rest. And she was not well enough now to look after a young boy full of spirit and spunk.
“Then who?” Sage mumbled to himself, staring at the door of his hogan.
“You’ve returned because you are worried about Trevor?”
The gentle, friendly voice behind Sage made him turn around with a start. He was stunned when he found who it was. His jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. Because of prejudice, this woman had turned her back a second time to his wife. She had also refused Runner a friendship with Adam—Runner, who was innocent in every way.
And now she was showing concern? Somehow he did not trust her.
“Yes, I have returned because of my son, and I do not have time to talk with you,” Sage grumbled.
Sally lowered her eyes, then lifted them stubbornly up again. “I know you have no time to waste,” she said hurriedly. “That’s why I came to you. I am offering to watch Trevor for you while you go and search for Leonida.” She swallowed hard. “I feel terrible about what has happened. Terrible.”
“And so you should,” Sage scolded. He looked past her at his waiting warriors, then put a hand to her shoulder. “I accept your offer. Watch over this boy I now call my son.” He lowered his hand from her shoulder and leaned down into Sally’s face. “But never call him Trevor again. He carries with him a Navaho name because he is the son of a Navaho.”
He straightened his back slowly, his eyes watching her expression for signs that meant that he still could not trust her.
But she showed no visible signs of resistance. She seemed accepting now of Runner’s new lot in life, and perhaps even of this man who now called himself the boy’s father.
“Please go on,” Sally said, smoothing her hands down the front of her dress. “I promise to look closely after Runner and call him by the name you’ve chosen for him.”
Sage nodded, placed a hand of friendship on her shoulder again, then left in a run toward his stallion. He mounted his horse in one leap and rode away, his men soon following after him.
When they reached narrow mountain passages, Sage risked everything by not stopping to walk the horse to safer footings. His stallion knew the way. His steed’s hooves stayed firm on the narrow, slippery path until once again they reached a stretch of stone that was wider and safer.
Determined to catch up with Four Fingers, Sage gave his horse no rest. He pushed him farther and farther, and his stallion seemed to understand the desperation of its master in the way it galloped steadfastly onward, snorting white clouds of air from its flaring nostrils.
Crouching low on his horse, Sage raced through the twilight of morning as it became evident in the lightening skies overhead. He knew that they should be reaching the base of the mountain now, and he feared finding Kit Carson somewhere close by.
Yet Sage could not let this worry stop him. The life of his woman was at stake. If he allowed anything to happen to her, his future would be gray and lifeless. So would it be the same for his people. Without his woman at his side, he would no longer be the leader they needed to keep their lives meaningful.
When flat land stretched out before him, shadowed by the hazy morning light, Sage rode onward. He knew of a place where Chief Four Fingers might have stopped to rest and eat, a place that Sage had so often used himself before tackling the steep sides of the mountain to get to his stronghold. It was another canyon, only a short ride away, where a waterfall splashed and fish were in abundance in a mountain stream. If Four Fingers had been at all careless or had misjudged the amount of time it would take Sage and his warriors to follow, then Sage was in luck.
His pulse raced, hoping that Four Fingers had not yet had the chance to touch Leonida.
