A string of sounds grunted. Peigan words, maybe, in Flies Ahead’s voice. The noise gave Grant a location for their enemy. He needed to help White Horse. The two men must be wrestling.
The scuffling noises moved toward the waterfall, even as Grant tried to find Flies Ahead.
He stepped farther forward, toward the water, trying to catch up to the pair. Trying to help. White Horse must be moving the brave out of the cave, where they would have a better chance. Did he have the upper hand, then?
At last, Grant could see the struggling figures outlined bythe dim light outside. The two were crouched, their arms intertwined. Flies Ahead fought on the right, and Grant charged toward him with the same force the man had used when he first struck Grant.
His blow pushed Flies Ahead farther out onto the ledge, but not as much as he’d hoped. The man had a grip on White Horse, dragging the brave with him.
God, help us!
Flies Ahead hadn’t released White Horse, and both men still grunted. He couldn’t be certain, but it looked like they gripped each other’s necks. He had to help White Horse.
His rifle had been dropped in the chaos in the corridor, but he didn’t dare leave White Horse long enough to search for it. He spotted Dragoon and Ol’ Henry maneuvering toward them on the ledge, and Dragoon held a rifle.
Grant scooted toward them. “Quick, hand me your gun.”
It was too dark and the men too entangled for him to shoot, but if he could knock Flies Ahead unconscious . . .
White Horse released a hard grunt, sending Grant’s pulse into a panic.
The moment Dragoon placed the stock in his hand, he gripped the weapon in a tight hold and slammed the butt into Flies Ahead.
A shout rose above the roar of the water, then Flies Ahead stilled.
White Horse pulled away, sagging to the stone floor as his shoulders heaved. He was conscious and moving.Thank you, God.
Flies Ahead’s body tipped toward the water. His head had slumped, hanging limp. Grant reached for him, but he didn’t move fast enough.
Flies Ahead tumbled over the edge.
Grant dropped to his knees and peered down at the river. The churning water where the falls met the river dragged Flies Ahead under, pulling him into its turmoil.
Grant sucked in a breath, his own body losing strength with the realization that the danger might be over. Beside him, White Horse rose up to his knees to peer down too. Grant raised his voice over the water. “He was unconscious when he fell. Do you think he could survive that?”
“We’ll go out and make certain.” Dragoon reached for his rifle, and Grant handed it over. “We’ll check the other fella too.”
As the men retreated along the ledge, Grant sank back onto his heels. His heart still raced, and he sucked in breath after breath, his body craving even more.
Then Faith was at his side, slipping her hand around his waist. He wrapped both of his arms around her and pulled her tight.
“Are you hurt?” Her mouth was so close to his ear, she didn’t have to yell to be heard.
He soaked in the warm solidness of her, letting it finally slow his frantic pulse. “No.” The sting on his arm from the knife wasn’t worth mentioning. “Are you? The others?”
“No. We heard you yell before anything happened.”
Thank you, God.And he meant those words with every part of his being.
TWENTY-FOUR
Midmorning light shone over the mountains as Faith rode beside Grant the next day, with Rosie, Ol’ Henry, and Dragoon trailing behind. Finally, they were headed toward the cabin where Will should be.
The forest canopy formed a tunnel of dappled sunlight around them, the trail through the trees wide enough through here that they could ride two abreast. To their left, the river flowed with a melody that soothed her. Beyond the water rose the peaks, their tops hidden by a wreath of clouds, adding a sense of grandeur to the scene.
Behind her, Ol’ Henry was telling a story about the time he’d helped another trapper friend cut trees to build a cabin one winter. The man had planned to go back to St. Louis for his wife and children once he had the home built, but Ol’ Henry never knew if he’d accomplished that dream. Once they had the final beams hoisted, Ol’ Henry set off to join up with Jim Bridger’s trapping party farther downriver.
Dragoon rode quietly in the rear of their group, probably as spellbound by the way Ol’ Henry told the tale as they allwere. White Horse and Steps Right had stayed behind in the camp near the waterfall.
