And raced into the grouping of Indians, Sloan quickly following behind him. Yet even as they rode, cries, tremolos, and shouts were rising among the Indians. The sounds were menacing.
Thousands of Indians.
Only a couple hundred whites.
The Sioux were raising their weapons. The shouts were growing more furious.
Hawk burst in among them, calling out.
“What is he saying?” Skylar cried worriedly.
Willow looked at her, not wanting to tell her.
“Willow!”
“He’s telling them that they must not murder the whites gathered here. If they do, the whites will come by the tens of thousands and slaughter them all in turn. They mustn’t let violence happen today.”
“Will they listen?” Skylar demanded.
“I hope so,” Willow said.
Sloan was in the midst of the agitated Indians as well. Young-Man-Afraid shouted to them, crying out.
“I should get you out of here, back to where we camped,” Willow said.
“But—”
“Skylar, don’t make him worry about you in the midst of this!” Willow said.
She nodded to his wisdom. She turned her horse and started to ride. But then she heard a thudding sound. Willow gasped out. She turned back and saw him clutching his head. “Ride!” he commanded her, then toppled down to the ground. Just behind him, Skylar could see a mounted Indian—and on the ground the heavy rock he’d cast at Willow.
She didn’t know what kind of Indian he was, but he was dressed in splendid regalia, with all manner of paint on his face. He let out a cry and started toward her.
She kneed Nutmeg, well aware that there was so much cacophony around her that no one would notice a single Indian chasing after a single rider. Yet she realized she would be best off racing toward the fray, rather than away from it. She circled Nutmeg, with the rider close behind her.
“Help me!” she cried out, but the din around her was too loud.
She remained on the outskirts of the crowd. The Indian suddenly leaped from his horse, bringing her down to the ground. She lashed out at him, shrieking. His fingers closed around her throat. She didn’t know if he was trying to silence her…
Or kill her.
She heard the sudden whip through the air of a knife.
The Indian stared at her, falling toward her. She pushed his body from her person, scrambling her feet in a desperate rush to avoid his blood. She looked behind her, from where the knife had come.
Sarah stood there. Blessed Sarah. Skylar had had no right to mock the woman—she’d seen the trouble and gone for Hawk regardless of the melee around them. Hawk stood at her side. Hawk had hurled the knife. And now he walked past her to kneel down and study the brave on the ground.
“Who is he?” Skylar demanded.
“Elk-Who-Runs. A Sioux from the Red Cloud agency.”
“A Sioux?” she whispered.
He looked up at her, his green eyes veiled. When he spoke, his words were deep and brittle. “Yes, an agency Sioux. This will not sit well today.”
“I’ve never, never seen anything like this!” Sarah exclaimed. “Never. In the midst of something so important as this council, a warrior trying to take down a woman!”
“Sarah, this isn’t over,” Hawk said. “Will you go with Skylar back to the camp? Some of the soldiers will escort you.” They were ringed now by a number of men who saluted their agreement.
