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He would not accept the fact that she had been running from him in the stagecoach the day it had been attacked. All she needed was a little convincing! And Harold knew ways of convincing that would turn her no to yes.
“Men, we’ve a job to do,” he shouted, clasping his hands behind him as he continued pacing. “Since neither you nor Kit was able to capture Sage and his runaway Navaho, it’s time to try again.”
He glanced at the fenced-in Navaho, waiting for their long walk to New Mexico. He had to leave enough able-bodied men to escort them, and he had to leave enough soldiers to protect the fort.
“Those who traveled with Kit Carson while searching for Sage, step out of line and prepare yourselves to escort the captive Navaho to New Mexico,” he ordered.
He began walking stiffly before the men, tapping one and then another on the shoulder. “You men that I’m choosing will travel with me,” he said flatly. “The remainder will stay behind and guard the fort.”
After a short while Harold was on his horse ready to travel, his assigned soldiers lined up on horses behind him, other horses packed well with provisions for the many days’ journey. He looked over his shoulder as the Navaho captives began walking in the opposite direction, their heads hung, children wailing and clinging to their mothers. He ignored their frailty and the fact that they were being forced to go all the way to New Mexico on foot. He did not have horses to waste on them. As far as he was concerned, the more who died while making the long trek to the reservation, the fewer would have to be fed and cared for once there.
Wheeling his horse around, Harold rode away at a hard gallop, his soldiers dutifully following. He saluted a young officer who was standing guard outside the wide gate of the fort. Then he gazed straight ahead, a smug look on his face.
Soon Leonida would be his again, and Sage would be hanging from a tree, a noose around his red neck.
It was just turning dusk when Harold saw several horsemen up ahead, obviously unaware of him and his soldiers. They were riding hard into the pale light in the same direction that Harold was traveling, the noise of their horses’ hooves surely drowning out that made by his soldiers’ mounts.
Harold motioned with his hand to advance quickly on the horsemen, who were close enough now that he could tell they were Indians. His heart pounded within his chest at the thought that Sage might possibly be among them, yet it did not seem reasonable that he would not be with his people—and Leonida.
“Then who?” he asked, idly scratching his brow with one hand while the other gripped the horse’s reins tightly.
When he overtook the four Indians, Harold’s eyes widened and a smile broadened on his lips. His soldiers surrounded the Indians, their rifles aimed at them. Harold moved away from the soldiers and drew up beside one of the Indians. “Well, if it ain’t my lucky day,” he said, chuckling. “It’s none other than Chief Four Fingers.”
The Kiowa looked guardedly at the soldiers, one by one, and then glared at Harold. “Is Four Fingers your reason for traveling with an entourage of soldiers?” he said in broken English. “Or is it someone else? You would not think it luck that you find Four Fingers unless you wish to use Four Fingers’ services.”
“Exactly,” Harold said, squaring his shoulders. He put a hand on Four Fingers’ arm. “You know this land like the palm of your hand. I want you to take me to Sage’s new stronghold.”
“Four Fingers knows nothing of Sage’s new stronghold,” Four Fingers grumbled. “Four Fingers no longer cares. Nor should you.”
“Well, I do care,” Harold growled. “I care plenty. Now do as you are told or you’ll get shot on the spot. Take your pick. A bullet or my thanks once we’ve found Sage.”
Chief Four Fingers glared at Harold, then nodded. “I will do this thing if you promise my freedom after the deed is done,” he said, tired of bargaining over and over again for his freedom.
“You have it,” Harold said, nodding. He gave Chief Four Fingers’ warriors a troubled glance. “How about them? Will they cooperate? Or should we shoot them?”
“These are my most devoted warriors,” Four Fingers said, looking guardedly from side to side at the rifles now aimed mainly at his men. “Lower your rifles. They will ride with us, if you will also promise them their freedom once Sage has been found.”
Harold nodded again. “Agreed,” he said. “They’ll be given their walking papers along with you. I have no need for you Kiowa after that.” He smiled slowly. “Not after I have my woman with me again.”
“The white woman is your reason for hunting down Sage?” Four Fingers said, arching his eyebrows.
“You’ve guessed it,” Harold said, laughing softly.
Chief Four Fingers smiled. “She has beguiled many men, I see,” he said.
“Just don’t you get any ideas about taking her for yourself,” Harold warned, then wheeled his horse around and rejoined his soldiers.
Harold ordered his men
to disarm the Kiowa, then shouted at the Kiowa chief. “Take off, Four Fingers,” he said. “Lead the way. But don’t try anything. Your back is an easy enough target.”
* * *
Leonida smoothed a blanket up over Runner after her bedtime stories sent him into a peaceful sleep.
“He sleeps soundly,” Sage said, coming to Leonida’s side. He took one of her hands and drew her against him, gazing down at her. The firelight gave her skin a golden, satiny glow. “Woman, are you ready to warm my blankets?”
The moon was high. The breeze was soft and smelled sweetly, for a pine forest stretched out behind the Navaho’s night camp. Leonida smiled up at Sage and ran her fingers through his thick, black hair, his headband having been placed with his rifle beside his spread blankets.
