Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Remembering her Indian childhood friend, Hannah Kincaid, a settler woman, experiences much deeper feelings for Shadow the man, until war breaks out in the Dakota Territory, pitting Hannah and Shadow's people against each other.
choose was Heecha, meaning Owl. I rode day and night for a week, and at the end of that time, I was out of food. More rational now that I was out of Joshua’s reach, I realized how foolish I had been to act so impetuously. Looking back, I realized I should have let Josh send the baby to the San Carlos Reservation. Then, when I was stronger, I could have followed him. At the reservation, I could have hired an Apache warrior to guide us to Pine Ridge. But it was too late for that now. In despair,
My hands were shaking with nervous tension as I changed Heecha’s clout. Joshua remained at the cave entrance, his gun drawn, his eyes restlessly searching for Hopkins’ killer. Another hour crawled into history. The birds had gorged themselves and left long ago. The stench of Hopkins’ mutilated corpse drifted up the hill, as did the sound of the hundreds of flies that were swarming over what was left of his corpse. The two cavalry mounts stood at the foot of the hill, heads drooping, tails
cringed, frightened by the confusion and the noise and the sudden realization that I was going to die a horrible death. Our house, which only moments before had seemed like a haven of refuge in a world gone mad, had become a death trap. There was no way out, no way we could possibly escape. Across the way, John Brown screamed and fell forward. A torrent of blood gushed from a bullet hole in his throat. David’s face contorted with rage and grief when he saw his brother fall, and he began to fire
had ever seen him. He wore a white buckskin shirt that was open at the throat, white leggings heavy with fringe, and white moccasins. A single white eagle feather was tied in his waist-length black hair. Elk Dreamer raised his right hand for silence. “This is a special day for our people,” he began. “One of our warriors has chosen a woman to share his life. Though she is not of our blood, her heart is good for our people. From this day forward, she will be one of us.” Pausing, Elk Dreamer drew
night, when the camp was quiet, some of my joy ebbed as I realized there would likely be many other battles. For the first time I let myself think of the men, red and white, who lay dead on the field of battle. I thought of John Sanders, of the Tabors and the Walkers, of Hobie Brown and his family, of my own dear parents. All dead because the Indians and the whites could not live together in peace. It was sad, I thought, that there wasn’t room for everyone when there was so much land. In the