“Zach have Zach.”
“That makes no kind of sense,” Geist said.
The sun was at its zenith when they finally stopped alongside a stream.
Chases Rabbits waited to be told whether he should slide off or not. The answer came in the form of Dryfus, who gripped him by the shirt and flung him roughly to the ground. His arm and ribs flared with pain, and he grunted.
“Did that hurt?” Dryfus mockingly asked, and kicked him in the ribs.
“Enough,” Geist said. “We need him in one piece when King catches up.”
“I’d as soon gut all four of the vermin,” Dryfus said, but he lowered his foot.
Chases Rabbits’s shame was compounded when the women were dumped next to him. It was almost more than he could bear to sit up and look into their haggard faces. “I am sorry for all you have endured.”
“It is not your fault,” Raven On The Ground said.
Flute Girl and Lavender appeared to disagree, but they said nothing.
“We are still alive,” Raven On The Ground said. “So long as we breathe, there is hope.”
Chases Rabbits’ love for her filled his whole chest. She had an indomitable spirit, this woman he adored. “We must be ready when Zach King comes. We must do what we can to help him.”
“Why should the half-breed risk his life for us?” Flute Girl asked. “He isn’t Apsaalooke.”
“He is my friend,” Chases Rabbits said. He resented her calling Zach a half-breed, but he held his tongue.
“Quit your jabbering,” Geist snapped. “You don’t talk unless I say you can. Tell the females.”
After that there was nothing for Chases Rabbits to do but sit and wait for the whites to move on. He had been up all night and was tired to his marrow, but he refused to show it. He sat with his back straight, his head high. He decided that, if he lived through this, he would formally ask Raven On The Ground to be his wife. He would be hurt if she refused, but he wouldn’t blame her. She deserved a warrior of great influence, one who had counted many coup and owned many horses. His dream of being that warrior had been dashed by Geist’s brutal nature; his people were bound to hold Spotted Fawn’s death against him.
A shadow fell across them, and Chases Rabbits squinted up into the face of the man he most wished to count coup on. “What you want?”
“Ever been hog-tied?” Geist asked.
“Me not know what that is.”
“You will soon enough,” Geist said with a smirk. “I aim to use you as bait.”
That the whites made no effort to hide their tracks didn’t surprise Zach. It would be pointless with him so close on their heels.
They had made a beeline down the foothills to the prairie. Only twice had they stopped to rest, and each time briefly. Their mounts were still fresh enough, though, that on reaching the plain, they headed to the east at a trot.
Zach matched their pace. He was in no rush to overtake them. Not in broad daylight on open ground. Once the sun went down—that was when he would close in. With most of the afternoon before him yet, he was content to stay far enough back that they wouldn’t spot him.
At this time of year, the prairie was green with grass that would turn to mostly brown once the summer heat hit in all its searing force. Wildflowers grew in profusion and butterflies were everywhere. Grouse took wing at Zach’s approach, prairie dogs stood on top of their dens and whistled shrill alarms. Sparrows played and swallows swooped, and hawks and eagles ruled the higher sky.
When Zach first saw the dark spot in the grass, he didn’t think much of it. An animal, he reckoned, an antelope or a lone buffalo. Then he saw how low to the ground it was, and that it was the color of buckskin. Drawing rein, he reached into his parfleche for the item he had helped himself to back at the mercantile.
The brass tube glistened in the bright sun as Zach unfolded the spyglass. He put his eye to the small end and fixed the large end on the distant figure. He took a moment to bring it into focus, then swore.
It was Chases Rabbits. Securely bound, the young Crow was on his knees, his head practically brushing the grass, held there by a rope around his neck that was tied to a stake. Another stake was attached to a rope around his ankles.
Zach lowered the spyglass. There was only one reason for Geist to leave Chases Rabbits out there like that. The devil of it was, trap or no trap, Zach had no choice but to go to his friend’s aid. He held on to the spyglass until he was several hundred feet out. Stopping again, he scanned the ground around Chases Rabbits, then shoved the telescope into the parfleche and rode on at a slow walk. He had the Hawken cocked, the stock on his thigh.
Chases Rabbits looked up. A gag prevented the young Crow from saying anything. Frantically bobbing his head, he uttered gurgling sounds.
Tense with the certainty of being ambushed, Zach gripped the Hawken in both hands and he slid down. “If they’re here, bob your head once for yes.”
Chases Rabbits’s chin rose and fell.
“How many? Bob once for each one.”
Chases Rabbits nodded—one time.
Zach was mystified. All he saw was flat ground. There was nowhere for anyone to hide. He edged closer and Chases Rabbits made choking sounds and jerked his head in Zach’s direction.
Blaze was sniffing at the ground.
Zach looked down and saw that the grass was speckled with brown spots. He bent, and realized the brown was dirt.
The earth heaved upward. A swatch of grass six feet long and three feet wide was flung aside and out of the ground sprang Dryfus. Clutched in his right hand was a long-bladed knife and on his face was an expression of pure hatred.
Zach aimed and fired, but Dryfus swatted the barrel and the heavy ball smacked into the hole he had been lying in. Dryfus held on to the rifle, and wrenched. Zach let it go flying. Backpedaling, he streaked his hand to his bowie and swept the big knife up and out. Steel clashed on steel as he saved his throat from a savage cut. Dryfus snarled and came in fast, his blade a whirlwind. Zach dodged, parried, countered. He had considerable experience in knife-fighting, but so did his adversary. Their blades wove a glittering web of death. A mistake in this fight could be fatal. Dryfus sidestepped and speared his knife at Zach’s chest. Zach blocked, shifted, slashed, and scored, opening Dryfus’s sleeve and the flesh under it. But the cut had no effect other than to incite Dryfus into redoubling his efforts.
Stabbing and cleaving, they circled in one direction and then the other, both so intent on their duel that when the two of them stumbled over Chases Rabbits, their surprise was mutual. Zach came down on his side, and rolled. Dryfus landed on his back but was up in a bound and lancing his knife at Zach’s neck. A lightning dodge, a flick of Zach’s wrist, and his bowie was buried to the hilt in Dryfus’s throat.
Only after the convulsions ceased did Zach yank the bowie out and wipe the blade clean on the dead man’s shirt. Quickly, he cut Chases Rabbits free from the stakes and removed the gag.
Spitting and coughing, Chases Rabbits slowly sat up. “Thank you. Me cannot move much. Arms, legs hurt.”
“They had you tied tight,” Zach said. “It cut off the circulation.”
“The what?”
“The flow of blood.” Zach slid the bowie into its sheath. He examined where the sod had been cut out and the hole dug to hide Dryfus. “I bet this was Geist’s doing.”
Chases Rabbits, rubbing his wrists and grimacing, nodded. “He much clever, that one.”
“Only four of them now,” Zach said.
“But they have women,” Chases Rabbits reminded him. “They have Raven On The Ground.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t do anything to get the love of your life killed.”