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The sun beat down on Shirleen, almost blinding her as she walked wearily along with the other captives. They were all roped together in a long line, being led by renegades on horseback.
As the shadows of evening began to lengthen, Shirleen realized that the air was growing cooler. She worried now what the night would bring. Once the sun went down, temperatures plummeted, and often in the morning there were thick patches of frost atop everything.
When she had fallen to the ground after being hit over the head, her shawl and bonnet had fallen away from her. If she didn’t die at the hands of these terrible renegades, the cold of night might take her life.
She looked ahead of her, and then behind her. She was the only survivor of the ambush. All of her friends had been murdered. She was now a captive, tied to a long length of rope with several Indian warriors who were captives as well.
Shirleen felt lucky to be alive and wondered why her life had been spared, but she could not help shuddering at the thought of what might lie ahead for her. She had seen how many of the renegades gazed hungrily at her. She expected to be raped when they stopped for the night.
And after they raped her, would she be killed? She would want to die of shame, yet she must live. She had her daughter to consider.
She turned her eyes straight ahead, her mind filled with thoughts that filled her with despair.
Megan!
Where was she?
Who was she with?
She knew Megan wasn’t with the renegades, or she would have seen her.
So how had Megan gotten out of the fence? Shirleen had most definitely seen that it was closed when she allowed Megan to go outside to see the baby chicks.
Did that mean that although it had appeared to be shut, it really wasn’t?
Oh, surely her husband hadn’t latched it properly and her daughter had wandered out just prior to the Indian attack
and was even now alone in the woods.
Or had the Indians come silently at first and stolen Megan away, and then made their attack?
But Shirleen didn’t see how that was possible. She had not seen her daughter with any of the Indians. That had to mean that even now Megan might be wandering alone, scared, and helpless.
The pain in the back of Shirleen’s head, where the Indian had struck her with his war club, was almost unbearable.
But she did feel fortunate to be alive. The other women and children, her friends, had perished, and worse than that: She had awakened to a gruesome scene she would never forget . . . a scene of rape and scalping.
She had to get hold of herself and stop thinking about what had passed, and think of what would be. She must think about survival. She must think about her daughter’s well-being.
And she could not help thinking about her feet. Oh, Lord, how they ached from walking so far, and she knew she surely had much farther to go before reaching these heathens’ hideout.
There was only one hope that kept Shirleen sane: Surely someone would come along and see what was happening and try to stop the renegades!
Of course she knew that if someone did intervene, the chances were good that she would die during the ensuing battle. And not only she, but the other captives as well.
Truly puzzled that one red man would steal another red man, Shirleen looked over her shoulder at the captive Indians.
She noticed that many of them were scarred by smallpox and recalled how not long ago there had been an outbreak of the disease in the area.
When word had arrived that the deadly illness had struck the trading post, she and Earl and their friends had avoided going there for over a year.
Earl’s current trip to the post was the first since they’d stopped their visits because of the smallpox. All the families in their small settlement were in dire need of necessities and had no choice now but to go and get the needed supplies.
Word had finally arrived that it was safe now to trade there.
It seemed the true danger had lain in staying home. No doubt the renegades had watched the men depart, leaving their families defenseless, and had waited long enough to make sure they would not return before attacking.
What puzzled her was why these pockmarked red men were among the captives. What could they have done to cause the renegades to take them captive?
