“Let him,” Violet said, startled at the strength in her own voice.
Ezra cut her a glance that might have been respect.
?
Thomas wouldn’t seek out soldiers. Soldiers meant questions. He went for neighbors.
Cole Ransom’s place sat a mile beyond the creek, with three cows, five pigs, a flock of chickens, and a grudging garden. Cole came to the door bareheaded, eyes narrow.
“Need riders,” Thomas said without greeting. “Savages took my bride. They jumped me, cracked my head, and hauled her off. I aim to take her back.”
Cole’s mouth thinned. “You sure she didn’t leave on her own?”
Thomas let silence pull the noose tight before he let it go. “You are calling me a liar, Ransom?”
Cole’s eyes slid to the rifle across Thomas’s back. “Didn’t say that. I’ll go get Rafe and Joe.”
Rafe and Joe, Cole’s stringy brothers, had gruff faces and a hankering for trouble. Rafe saddled their horses eagerly while Cole filled a bag with hard biscuits and Joe filled canteens from the well. They didn’t owe Thomas friendship but enjoyed anyopportunity to break their lives’ boredom. Plus, they’d not yet paid Thomas fully for the bull he’d lent them last spring to cover their cows. This might cancel their debt.
“Which way?” Rafe asked.
“Toward the river,” Thomas said. “We’ll catch them.”
“And if there’s more than one savage?” Cole said.
Rafe and Joe nodded, heads tilted, waiting for Thomas to reply.
Thomas smiled without humor. “Then there’ll be less when we’re done.”
They put their heels in and went.
?
By late afternoon the river split around a narrow island green with willow and grass. Ezra pointed. “We’ll hide on the island tonight, crossing to it by rock, not sand, to leave less of a trail.”
Grey Horse rode the pony downstream to a riffle where dark stones shouldered up under clear water. He guided the horse through the stream flawlessly.
On the island, the world tucked itself around them. Willow shade sheltered them and the grass smelled of green. Ezra made a fire small enough to hide under his hat if need be. Grey Horse went quiet and tall and still, the way he did when he was listening to something only the land said.
Violet tended to her feet again, the wound in the left foot angry and red. She bound it tighter and flexed her toes until the ache eased. When she looked up, Grey Horse was close, holding a skin filled with river water.
“Drink,” he said.
She did, and some small tremor in her ribs eased.
“Rest while you can,” Ezra said softly to Grey Horse. “I’ll take the first watch. You take the second. We’ll wake with the birds, and if we’re lucky, we’ll be under Kiowa eyes by noon.”
Violet lay down with her braid tucked against her cheek and watched the leaves above move the sky into pieces. She should have been ragged by the day, but inside, something had begun stitching itself back together.
“Grey Horse,” she said.
He turned his head.
“When we come to your camp,” she said, “what should I do about Pale Moon?”
The name lilted like a song and cut like flint. She felt its taste in her mouth.
He stared out through the willow leaves until it seemed he had counted each one. “You stand,” he said at last. “You speak true. You show respect.”
