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Then he bolted to his feet and began scrambling around the longhouse, slipping into his buckskins and moccasins. With a growl, he grabbed his rifle and held it up in the air. “They shall die for doing this to my la-daila,” he cried, forgetting all of his doubts about Elizabeth. At this moment, there was no doubt exactly what she meant to him, and always would. He must save her.
He tur
ned to Four Winds as he rose to his feet. “You will ride with me?” he said, his eyes dark with emotion. “My friend, you will help me set her free?”
“This I would do gladly, except . . .” Four Winds said, lowering his eyes, for now was a time of truth between friends—a truth that might turn them into enemies.
“Except what?” Strong Heart dared to ask, seeing now that something was very wrong in Four Winds’s demeanor. Instead of being proud for having brought such news to a friend, Four Winds was acting as one who had something to be ashamed about.
Strong Heart’s pulse raced as he waited for Four Winds’s explanation. They did not have much time to waste, when his beloved was at the mercy of too many whose hearts were black. He must hy-ak, hurry, and get to her before she was harmed by the cultus, worthless man, the sheriff.
Yet, because of friendship, he must wait for Four Winds to say his piece.
Four Winds looked slowly up at Strong Heart. “You did not ask me how I knew about the white woman being in the prison,” he said, his voice quiet.
“I saw no need,” Strong Heart said, his puzzlement deepening. “If Elizabeth is jailed, surely those in the city know, and such news spreads quickly.”
Then Strong Heart was shaken by a thought. “But you, my friend, should not be near the city, or with those who would hear such news,” he said slowly. “You should be with your people, or still be hiding in the hills.”
Strong Heart walked around the fire and came eye to eye with Four Winds. “Tell me, my friend, how do you know about Elizabeth?”
Four Winds lifted his chin and folded his arms across his chest. “The news traveled to the band of outlaws of which I am a part,” he said, holding his voice steady, although his heart was pounding like distant thunder within his chest. “Now you know that the law was not wrong about me. I am a criminal who enjoys raiding the white settlers. Elizabeth’s father is friends with the leader of the gang. The father asked his help in setting Elizabeth free from prison. They are on their way even now, Strong Heart. We will not be able to reach Elizabeth before the gang gets to her. It is dangerous for you, Strong Heart, either way—whether she is in prison, or freed by the outlaws. If she is able to point an accusing finger at you for setting me free, you could be the one that will use the hangman’s noose that has been readied for me.”
Strong Heart was silent and numb from Four Winds’s confession. He recalled his ravaged village the day after the fatal attack on his people, and his father’s thoughts about Four Winds’s part in it.
He reached a hand to Four Winds’s throat and sank his fingers in it. “I do not know if I should call you pelton, foolish, or brave, for coming to my village tonight with the pretense of being my friend,” he said, his eyes filled with fire.
Four Winds paled and his eyes widened. “What do you mean?” he gasped. “What are you saying? I have done nothing to cause you to turn on me, my friend. I have come to you tonight, for payment in part for what you did for me. But, most of all, I have come because of our lifelong friendship. Why do you doubt me? Why do you treat me harshly, instead of as a friend?”
“By the cover of night you did not notice that my village is being rebuilt, and that some of the totem poles stand half burned by such raiders that you profess to being part of?” Strong Heart hissed. “Can you say that you do not know of the plight of my people? That you did not ride with your friends against my people? Against me?”
Four Winds tried to shake his head, the effort only causing Strong Heart’s fingers to dig more deeply into his flesh. “Believe me when I say that I know nothing of such a raid,” he rasped out. “And since my return to my comrades, there have been no raids, not even on the settlers. They are lying low, waiting for things to settle down since my arrest. They . . . they . . . are taking a chance riding into town to help the white woman escape. They do this because the man who is their leader asked them to, and owe him much. He keeps them in food and clothes in harder times. They did not notice when I slipped away to warn you.”
The thought again of Elizabeth in the prison caused Strong Heart to wince and his heart to cry out in pain. He dropped his hand away from Four Winds. “We will talk later of these things that are new between us,” he said thickly. “For now, Four Winds, my heart and mind is full only of Elizabeth. Let us ride together as friends. Let us take this woman from the prison. Then, as friends, we will talk. You can explain to me why you have chosen the life of crime over the congenial life of the Suquamish.”
Four Winds nodded and they left the longhouse in a rush. He waited for Strong Heart to go to his parents to explain why he would be gone, and for Strong Heart to get his horse.
Soon they were riding hard beneath the moonlight, Four Winds giving Strong Heart questioning glances. “This woman!” he finally shouted. “She means much to you? You find her special?”
Strong Heart turned flashing eyes on Four Winds. “She is my life!” he confessed loudly, his words echoing far across the land, through the forest, and to the sky.
Chapter 22
Whatever on my heart may fall,
Remember, I would risk it all!
—ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER
It had been a day’s ride for Strong Heart and Four Winds—a ride against time. Finally, at midnight the next night, they arrived on the butte that overlooked Copper Hill Prison.
Strong Heart glared down at the prison, seeing no activity, or light glowing from any of the barred windows. The only light that was evident was in the sheriff’s office, and even that was only a dim golden glow as it shone through the glass panes.
Strong Heart gave Four Winds a quick glance. “You know the dangers and yet you still come with me to the prison?” he asked, his hand resting on the stock of his rifle that hung from the side of his saddle. “We could be hanging side by side on the platform tomorrow if we do not succeed in releasing my la-daila from prison. You would risk that for my woman?”
“No,” Four Winds said flatly, giving Strong Heart a steely gaze. “I do it for you, my friend.”
This proved many things to Strong Heart—the most important being that Four Winds could not have participated in the raid against Strong Heart’s people. It would not make sense to go against Strong Heart one minute, then ally himself the next.
