He shook off the medicine woman’s hand and started for Juliet. Two Eagles stepped in front of him. “If you want to save her, stay where you are and let my aunt scheme. This is not my village where I could allow you to go to her. Juliet is a captive and will be difficult if not impossible to free. Onontio has been ordered to appear along with the chief.”
Joshua swore, forcing himself to stay rooted and let the matter play out. Helpless. Rage burned in his belly.
Onontio, a mountain of a warrior, his hideous face painted black and red, wormed his way through the crowd. “What do you want, Ojistah?”
“A problem has occurred. You have taken our brother, Joshua’s woman.”
Onontio pounded his chest with his fist. “She is my captive. She will not be taken from me.”
The chief intervened. “Joshua is our brother in blood and to be respected, but Onontio is our War Chief and through great heroism and trial has returned with his prize. He will not be cheated of his conquest.”
Ojistah pulled herself up to full height, her grandson next to her. “Joshua is a brave warrior. His magic is far more powerful than Onontio and cannot be contested.” She raised the giant bear tooth suspended from Morning Sun’s neck to remind them of the bear with evil orenda Joshua had destroyed.
The villagers murmured, pointing at the venerated amulet.
With the unblinking gaze of a hawk, Ojistah cast her gaze over the crowd. “He has done far more to protect the village than—”
“No!” Onontio spat. “I will not let this dog of a white man usurp what is mine.”
The chief nodded his head, considering the medicine woman’s words. “There is much force in what you say, Ojistah. The only way to determine who gets the woman is for Joshua to run the gauntlet. If he survives, he gets the woman.”
Before the echoes of warriors’ shouts, Joshua was pressed to the precipice of two lines. On their guard, warriors eyed him and shuffled close, yet Ojistah’s play on their superstition of his magic made them wary. Because of their fear of his suggested supernatural power, he sincerely hoped he’d have the upper hand.
Still, there were hardened warriors out to make a name for themselves. He inspected the motley group, restless, angry, armed with clubs, tomahawks, sticks, any sort of weapon they could find. Like a pack of curs, they were ready to hunt and tear apart their prey. One warrior with a red jacket possessed a particularly monstrous war club made from the burl of a tree and might crack a man’s skull like a scythe through wheat. Joshua flexed his arms. He had no intentions of falling under any of the weapons.
“Run fast, with your head down,” said Two Eagles.
Joshua danced in place on the ground to loosen up. “Remember when I rescued you from ten armed trappers?”
“There were twenty.” Two Eagles smiled.
“Ten ran away. They didn’t count. I don’t think these seasoned warriors will run.”
“Did you see the fresh bruise on Juliet’s face?” asked Two Eagles.
His blood raged through his veins. Joshua knew what his friend was doing. He faced the ghastly collection of painted faces. They might have scared most men but to Joshua, they were laughable. The War Chief waited at the end of the gauntlet with a particularly nasty war club. The warrior stood two hands taller and broader than Joshua. It’d be like cutting down an oak tree.
Get ready, Onontio. I’m coming for you.
It was a question of force and speed. Joshua was bigger than ninety percent of them and faster, too. And like a roaring wind he came, breaking between the lines of stick-wielding Indians with the fleetness of a hunted animal.
The warriors shrieked and screamed. They pelted him on all sides with cruel cuts and blows. With great force, he used his knees, heels and elbows adroitly, simultaneously swinging his head with great force, that his opponents were knocked violently on both sides. He kept his head down, powerful strikes descended on him. He swerved into the line using his body to unbalance them and at the same time deliver cross punches.
He got his right hand to the back of a warrior’s neck and helped him along with a vicious back hand that shoved him into the next five warriors, the inertia causing them to collapse like a row of dominoes.
Before the opposite line knew what happened, he elbowed one in the throat, sending him sprawling in the dust. A tattooed warrior came at him. Joshua kneed him in the groin and he went down, too. A short bow-legged warrior to his right swung his club in a mighty arc. The swing, too high, took too long. Joshua gave him a right hook to the jaw. Bow-Legs lifted two feet off the ground, teeth went flying and the warrior hit face first in the dust.
He jabbed another in the throat because jabbing was quicker and afterward, breathing became an impossibility. He swung out his leg, tripping several of his competitors, and then kicked them to make sure they stayed there. Some braver warriors closed in. These warriors were at a disadvantage for they had no idea of his pugilist skills as well as his impulse for brawling.
The warrior with the red jacket came at him, his club a great curve which would crush his skull. Like a boxer, his lithe dancing helped him dodge the blow and with a powerful upper cut, knocked Red Jacket out cold.
A tomahawk grazed his ear, he twisted his head, kicked his assailant in the stomach with enough power to cause him to fly backward. The tomahawk wheeled back on his opponent and sliced off part of his ear.
He came to the end of the line and laughed. Warriors drew near and shouted angrily. They had been cheated of their prize. Silence pulsed in the air.
Joshua placed his hands on his knees, breathing, keeping an eye on Onontio. The War Chief drew himself up, his eyes blazing, a knife palmed between his hands. He was ugly, the fresh scar slashed down his sagging cheek made him uglier.
Joshua stumbled forward, glanced over at Juliet, sitting majestic and beautiful. He saw how the tether whipsawed against her tender flesh. The agony she must be enduring choked him and fueled the violent fury within him. “Onontio, you may quit now, saving yourself a humiliation and—your life.”
