But what did they think of Anthony now that all these rumors were swirling? Did the Shoshone think he was going to bring them trouble? Or were they waiting for somebody to push them in the right direction?
After all, they all had one enemy, and it was Vanburgh.
The trail to the Shoshone camp wound through sage and scrub. He knew they kept moving these days. No camp was permanent. It was going to be hard to find them.
Along the way, Anthony kept his gaze moving. He was checking the skyline, the gullies, and the crests of hills. Even in the wilderness, there was a high chance they were being watched.
By midmorning, they reached the camp. Smoke curled up in thin gray ribbons from stone fire pits, and the camp stirred with life.
Anthony slowed Spirit, dismounting first. The camp quieted at once. Eyes turned toward him—men, women, elders, and the young. They were all staring. There was no anger, but there was caution. He could feel it pressing around him.
Two men stepped forward from the nearest tent. One was Black Wolf; the other was Red Hawk.
“Anthony Hawk,” Black Wolf said, his voice like gravel over stone. “You come back.”
Anthony bowed his head. “I come because I must.”
“You gave us Lyle Tate,” Red Hawk stated. He glanced toward the rear of the camp, his jaw tightening. “But he is gone.”
Anthony stilled. His voice was careful. “Gone?”
“He broke free,” Black Wolf said, nodding. “He killed one of our young men, wounded another, and fled into the hills.”
Brigg cursed under his breath. “Hell’s teeth. That snake always slips the noose.”
Anthony’s fists clenched, and his chest started burning with rage. The man who had set fire to their home...who had brought ash and grief...he still lived.
“He’ll run straight to Vanburgh,” Anthony said. His tone was iron. “You know what that means.”
Black Wolf’s grave eyes met his. “It means war comes sooner than we wished.”
Anthony took a deep breath, then looked to the elders gathering nearby. “Then I need to speak to the council,” he said.
Word spread quickly, and soon a circle of elders formed near the center of the camp. They sat cross-legged on the earth with their cloaks wrapped close against the mountain air.
Abigail and Brigg followed Anthony into the circle’s edge, lowering themselves as he did.
The murmurs quieted. Black Wolf motioned with one broad hand. “Speak,” he said.
Anthony had to take a deep breath before speaking. “The railroad comes fast,” he said. “It eats land. It eats rivers. It eats the graves of your fathers. Vanburgh is its hand. He has already shown what he brings. He will not stop. Not with me, not with our people. He will take everything.”
The elders murmured low, like wind through pine. Some nodded grimly; others looked down, troubled.
“I don’t ask you to throw your families into gunfire,” Anthony went on. “I ask that some of you stand with us. A few rifles. A few brave hearts. Enough to tip the balance when Vanburgh comes. Enough to make him bleed. Enough to make him think twice.”
An elder with a voice cracked by age shook his head. “We have children,” he said. “We have widows. Soldiers come withVanburgh’s money. Their rifles are many. Our blood would soak the ground.”
Brigg leaned forward, his voice rough but earnest. “Better blood than chains,” the deputy added. “You think Vanburgh will stop once he drives you out? He’ll take your water, your hunting grounds, and the bones of your dead. You can’t bargain with a man like him.”
Abigail touched Brigg’s sleeve, softening the edge of his words as she spoke gently to the elders.
“He doesn’t mean disrespect,” she said. “Only that Vanburgh will never stop at half measures. He will destroy everything if he isn’t faced.”
“Vanburgh doesn’t care if you fight or if you beg,” Anthony said. “Every day you wait, he cuts deeper into our land. He doesn’t need reasons. He makes them. You’ve seen it.”
Red Hawk folded his arms, but there was less fire in his gaze now and more thought. Black Wolf rubbed his jaw, weighing the silence.
At last, he nodded.
