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“Is this shaft more deadly than others?” she asked.
She had seen him make many types of shafts and had learned that there were arrows with small points, so-called “bird points,” and now arrows with no points at all.
He held the arrow out for Mary Beth to examine more closely. “All are deadly,” he said. “Some bowmen can send such arrows clear through animals, including the big buffalo.”
He laid the arrow aside and paused in his chore for a moment. “For moving animals, especially buffalo chased on horseback, arrows with standard-sized barbed heads are used,” he said. “A hunter can send an arrow about six to eight inches into the soft flank just behind the ribs, and as the buffalo continues to run, the arrow cuts deeper and deeper into its vital organs. Before long the animal stops and soon dies.”
He lifted another arrow and ran his fingers along the smooth finish of the shaft. “In warfare, the largest barbed points are preferred because of their incapacitating effects,” he explaine
d. “When a warrior is hit with such an arrow, it is less painful to extricate by pushing it through than by trying to pull it back out. A small-pointed arrow might go clear through a man and not mortally wound him if no vital organs or bones are hit.”
He had not realized how telling her such details was affecting Mary Beth until he heard her gasp and saw how pale she had become. She rose quickly to her feet and turned her back to him.
He quickly laid the arrow aside and went to her, drawing her into his arms and turning her to face him. “Going into such detail about what arrows can do was wrong,” he said huskily.
He lifted her chin with a finger so that their eyes met. “I apologize.”
“I apologize for proving over and over how weak I am,” she murmured. “It is so much unlike me. I . . . I . . . have always been proud of my strength. But you have seen me shed tears too often, and now today I let you see that hearing such details made me feel ill. How could you want someone like me as your wife? I’m afraid I would embarrass you.”
“You prove over and over again that you are a woman with deep feelings,” he said. “There is nothing wrong with that. And embarrass me? Never will you do that. I will be so proud to call you wife.”
“Truly?” Mary Beth asked, her heart warmed by those words.
“Truly,” he said. He was just lowering his lips to hers when the sound of horses arriving at the village drew them quickly apart.
Mary Beth’s eyes grew anxiously wide. “The warriors,” she said, her voice breaking. “They . . . they . . . have returned!”
She wheeled around and ran from the tepee just as the warriors came into view at the far end of the village.
Her heart immediately sank when she saw no child with them. No David.
Blinded by tears, she turned and ran in the opposite direction, then felt strong arms stopping her.
She flung herself into Brave Wolf’s embrace. She clung to him.
“Again I am crying,” she sobbed. “Again I am given cause to cry. Oh, my sweet David. They didn’t find him.”
“That does not mean the worst,” Brave Wolf said. “Remember, my woman, never give up hope.”
He continued to hold her as the warriors came and dismounted behind him. One approached him.
“The search was unsuccessful,” the warrior said. “There is no trace of the child, or those who took him.”
Brave Wolf nodded.
The warrior walked away, along with the rest, leaving Brave Wolf and Mary Beth alone.
Brave Wolf placed an arm around her waist and gently led her to his lodge, then helped her down to the pelts.
Mary Beth wiped her eyes.
“There is only one thing left for me to do,” she said stiffly as Brave Wolf sat down beside her.
“And what is that?” he asked.
“I have thought long and hard about what I would do if the warriors returned without David,” she said, her voice drawn. “I concluded that if they did not find my son, perhaps the cavalry can.”
She saw how that made Brave Wolf’s jaw tighten. She knew he did not want her to believe that the soldiers could succeed when his warriors had not.
