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“You are white,” he gulped out. “Yet . . . yet . . . you had a role in what happened today? You . . . helped . . . the Indians? You are even dressed like . . . an . . . Indian.”
“Yes, I am dressed like an Indian, and yes, I helped them,” Joylynn said tightly. She saw how those words made him flinch. “But must I remind you where you were going? You were with a group of men who were on the trail of Indians, were you not? You would have helped kill them once you found them, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, it was part of the plan,” he said, then lowered his eyes and began crying. “But it was not out of hatred that I would have done it.”
He looked with desperation up into Joylynn’s eyes. “I . . . I . . . joined the cavalry to get money for my mother, to help her put food on her table after the death of my father,” he sobbed out, the tears seeming to be born of true regret. “Then . . . then . . . just before I was told that I had to go with these . . . these . . . soldiers on a search for a band of Indians who were responsible for several soldiers’ deaths, I . . . received . . . word that my mother had died. I am now alone in the world. I did not want to be part of this mission, for I have never hated Indians. In fact, I don’t understand why the government hates them so much. The Bible says that all men are created equal. It’s in my Bible that I carry with me at all times.”
Joylynn saw a small Bible thrust into one of his back pockets, then again gazed into eyes that were as blue as the sky. His blond hair was worn long, to his shoulders.
“You sound like a religious person,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am, I am,” the young man said, wiping tears from his cheeks with the backs of his hands. “It . . . has . . . always been a dream of mine to be a preacher.”
“What is your name?” Joylynn asked softly, glad that this young man was not among the casualties. She would not allow herself to think that there might have been others killed today who had just been following orders, who hadn’t wanted to participate in a massacre of Indians at all.
She had to put such thoughts from her mind. She could not allow her guilt to become unbearable. She had participated in today’s attack to assure the survival of a wonderful, peace-loving people who were being hunted down and slain as though they were nothing more than lowly snakes crawling over the ground.
“Ma’am, my name is Andrew,” the young man said. The fear in his eyes had eased, since thus far neither the Indian nor the kind woman seemed to want him dead. “Andrew Roddick, but I am mostly called Andy.”
“Are you hurting badly . . . Andy?” Joylynn asked softly, looking at his bloody wound.
“It does hurt, but I can bear it, ma’am,” Andrew said. “Thank you for askin’.”
“How old are you, Andy?” Joylynn asked.
“Eighteen, ma’am,” Andrew said. “I was the youngest of my troop. Mama didn’t like me joinin’ up with the cavalry, but I convinced her that the money would be good. I had meant to send her my money as soon as I was paid. She . . . just . . . didn’t live long enough to get it.”
Finding his story so sad, Joylynn nodded, then turned to High Hawk. “Can we talk?” she asked, searching his eyes. “Away from the young man?”
High Hawk nodded and stepped away from Andrew with Joylynn. The youth continued to watch them as they put their heads together, talking softly so he would not hear.
“As you suggested earlier, I think it is a good idea to take the young man with us. When he is well enough, he can return to his own life,” Joylynn murmured, her gaze locked with High Hawk’s. “I doubt he will have anything to do with the military again. I think that if we give him the chance, he will actively pursue the ministry.”
High Hawk turned and gazed at Andrew, saw the pleading in his eyes as the young man looked back at him, waiting to hear what his fate would be.
“He will have to prove that he is worthy of being set free,” High Hawk said tightly. “Come. We will tell him what we expect of him and then see how he reacts to our decision.”
Joylynn smiled, then walked back to Andrew with High Hawk.
Both knelt down beside him, one on each side.
“Young man, it is up to you whether or not you will be freed to seek your dream of being a preacher,” High Hawk began. “We will take you to our people. You will travel with us to our new home. In time, if you have proven that you can be trusted, and that you seek only to lead the life of a preacher instead of a soldier, you will be set free.”
“Do you mean . . . you . . . are not going to kill me?” Andrew gulped out, looking quickly from High Hawk to Joylynn. “Even knowing that if we had found your people first, instead of your finding us, we would have massacred them? Even so, you would still give me another chance at life?”
“You say that you want to be a preacher,” Joylynn said, bringing his eyes to her again. “Young man, we will help you get that chance.”
She placed a gentle hand on his cheek, which was rough with a stubble of blond whiskers. “Are we right in trusting you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Andrew said, his eyes brightening. “I’ll not let you down. Honest. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Joylynn had often used that same term when she had promised her father something. A smile fluttered across her lips.
The smile was quickly erased when Three Bears rode up to her and High Hawk.
“Mole is not among the dead,” he announced. “I searched the bodies twice. He is not there.”
Panic hit Joylynn in the pit of her stomach.
