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"What happened?" Charlie raised a brow.
"I killed him." The old man snickered. "Had too, he come at me with his knife when I tried to take her. I didn't realize why, until the baby cried for his dinner. Then I understood what was going on. The kid is my grandson."
Clay and Charlie looked at each other in shock.
"It wasn't her he was trying to keep, it was the kid, but she wouldn't have come without that baby. She's as protective of him as any woman I've ever seen. I don't much blame her, he's a good kid."
"Then you got some on your trail?"
"Probably. But we've come a fair peace…we should have lost them by now." The man answered as though it was no matter.
Clay frowned, and then went to look out the window.
"Uh, I don't think they are that far away… and it looks as though you didn't lose them." he turned to look at the old man. "And to my knowledge, you don't lose Indians when they are on your trail."
"Aw hell, I should have known," The old man got up from the table, and glanced over Clay's shoulder out the window.
Clay turned to look at him. "Known what?"
The old man glanced at Clay. "Well, her husband was the son of the chief, so he wanted that kid, and the old chief is probably pretty mad about me killing his son, and taking his grandson, but I had to do it." Th
e man fretted. "He wasn't going to let her go. She's my daughter and that's my grandson. She wasn't about to leave the baby there; he's not even weaned yet. And I couldn't blame her. He's blood kin."
"Who are you?" Clay asked.
"Sorry, I should have introduced myself. The names William Turner," He stuck out a hand to shake.
Clay stared at his hand, "And her?"
"Willa…"
Now that she returned to the table, he got a better look at her. She was small, almost delicate looking. The girl had the shiniest black hair that fell to her waist in the back in one long braid, and huge brown eyes, but those eyes never looked at him, only at the ground. "Maybe you better go talk to them." Clay insisted.
"They'll kill me. I cain't go out there now!"
"Look, there's no need all of us dying for this." Clay insisted.
Charlie got up from the table and opened the door. He studied the Indians staring at him now. "I'll go, I speak a little of their language."
"Dad… this isn't our fight."
"Maybe I can reason with them." Charlie insisted.
After a long talk, Charlie walked back to the cabin slinging mud on his boots.
"They said the woman can go, but they want the child." Charlie looked from the Indian girl to her father.
"I will not give them my child," the girl spoke perfect English now and raised her eyes to meet the frown on Clay's face.
"You speak English?" Clay frowned.
"Of course, my mother taught me. I am half white." She raised her chin in defiance. "She insisted I know both languages."
Clay noticed her skin wasn't as dark as most Indians he'd seen.
When an arrow flew inside the window and hit the wall, they all ducked.
Clay and Charlie got their rifles, William pulled his handgun. The girl merely watched and held her child close to her.
