Seed of Evil

Chapter Nineteen

The three women had run all night and were on the verge of exhaustion.

Raven On The Ground gasped for breath. She came to the bottom of yet another slope and into the shadow of the hill they had crossed, and stopped. “This should be far enough. We will rest.”

No one objected. They had put a lot of distance between them and the trading post.

To the east, the black sky was lightening to gray. Dawn was breaking. The birds were astir, and in a nearby copse of woodland, sparrows chirped.

Lavender wearily sat. “I haven’t run this much since I was a girl.”

“I have lost feeling in my legs,” Flute Girl said.

“It was worth our effort,” Raven On The Ground said. “They won’t catch us now.”

“Unless they have a tracker,” Flute Girl said.

“I can’t stop thinking about Spotted Fawn,” Lavender said. “Do you think she is all right?”

“They wouldn’t be foolish enough to harm her,” Raven On The Ground replied.

Flute Girl disagreed. “They are white. They do not think like we do. What is foolish to us might not be foolish to them.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Poor Spotted Fawn,” Lavender said.

“Let’s not talk about her,” Raven On The Ground said. She eased to the ground and wearily scanned the crown of the last hill they had crossed.

Flute Girl was bent over with her hands on her knees. “If your lover was here, I would tell him what I think of his precious whites.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Why not? You have made no secret of your desire to have him be yours.”

“You blame Chases Rabbits for our plight when it is the fault of the whites?”

“Who convinced us that working for the whites was a good thing to do?”

“You forget. The whites held council with Long Hair. They fooled him, too. They pretended to be our friends when they were not.”

Lavender raised her head. “Enough, both of you. There is no question who is to blame. The whites schemed to use us to fill their pokes with money. That is what brought us to this.”

That ended the argument. Raven On The Ground eased onto her back. Streaks of gold lit the eastern sky. The sun was rising. She closed her eyes. Fatigue overwhelmed her. Almost instantly she fell asleep.

Although it felt as though she had slept for only a few minutes, when she opened her eyes the sun was directly above them. She had slept half the day away.

Feeling sluggish and sore, Raven On The Ground sat up. Her friends were sound asleep, Flute Girl snoring. She stood, wincing at the discomfort in her legs.

To the west, mountains reared. Timber covered most of the slopes. Here and there were high cliffs with specks moving on the sheer heights. Mountain sheep, their meat so succulent—it was one of her favorites.

Raven On The Ground stretched. Her body demanded more rest, but they had slept long enough. She went to Lavender and shook her. Lavender mumbled and moved an arm as if to push her away.

“Wake up. We must keep going.” Raven On The Ground shook her harder.

Lavender stirred and blinked, squinting in the bright glare of the sun. “I was having the most pleasant dream.”

“I am sorry.”

“We were in our village. It was night and we were celebrating. Our warriors had killed many buffalo. We had butchered them and there was meat for everyone. We were dancing and singing.”

“We will dance and sing again.”

Raven On The Ground moved to Flute Girl. She placed her hand on the bigger woman’s shoulder and Flute Girl came awake with a start. She sat up and glanced about in alarm.

“What is wrong?”

“We are fine. We must move on.”

For a while they hiked slowly, their leg muscles stiff. The farther they went, the less it hurt. They were walking briskly when Lavender looked over her shoulder and blurted, “No!”

In the distance three riders came on at a trot. There was a fourth, but he was leading extra horses and lagged behind.

Raven On The Ground shielded her eyes with her hand. “It is them. Dryfus is tracking us. They are on our trail, but haven’t seen us yet.”

“We must hide,” Flute Girl said, and took the lead.

Ahead grew cottonwoods, usually a sign of water. They burst in among the trees and found a small spring.

“I am so thirsty.” Flute Girl threw herself down. She put her face in the water and greedily gulped.

“Not too much,” Raven On The Ground cautioned. “It will make our bellies hurt.” But it was hard to resist. They had been without anything to drink since before the fire. She tore herself away and nudged her companions to get them to do the same.

“I could drink it dry,” Flute Girl said, her chin dripping wet.

“Listen,” Lavender said.

The thud of hoofbeats warned them that they had squandered precious time.

“Keep up with me,” Raven On The Ground said, and ran. Her people were fond of racing, both on foot and on horseback, and she loved to run.

The undergrowth was thick, but that was good, since it would slow the horses. Raven On the Ground vaulted logs and avoided boulders. She was pleased at how her legs were bearing up under the strain. Lavender was close behind her, mouth set in grim determination. Flute Girl had fallen behind, but Raven On The Ground glimpsed her, struggling hard to keep up.

The drum of hooves was louder.

Raven On The Ground was going as fast as she could, but she couldn’t outrun horses. She and the others needed somewhere to hide. A thicket appeared, but the whites could surround it and they would be trapped. She raced on, and suddenly the woods thinned, revealing a slope littered with boulders before them. She barely slowed. Lavender was farther back, wheezing with every stride. There was no sign of Flute Girl.

Raven On The Ground stopped. She refused to leave her friends. Wheeling, she waited for Lavender to reach her. Lavender was flushed and swayed unsteadily.

“I can’t go on.”

“Rest a moment.”

“I need more than that.”

Raven On The Ground looked for Flute Girl, but she didn’t appear.

Out of the woods exploded two riders.

Whirling, Raven On The Ground took flight, but she had only taken a few bounds when a blow to her shoulder slammed her to the earth. She heard Lavender cry out. Dust got into her eyes and nose as she rolled across the ground. Above her loomed Geist on a stallion. He pointed a rifle at her and said something. Although she didn’t understand the words, his meaning was clear.

Sitting up, she saw Lavender on the ground in Petrie’s grasp. She punched at his chest, but it had no effect.

Raven On The Ground bowed her head in sorrow. She had been so sure they would reach their village. Geist’s saddle creaked and iron fingers seized her by the hair. She was thrown down again and kicked. The pain was terrible, but it hurt worse to be thwarted in their escape.

Petrie bound Lavender’s wrists behind her back and then tied Raven On The Ground.

By then Dryfus had joined them, Flute Girl walking in front of his horse, a bloody smear on her forehead.

Last to arrive was Berber, leading the extra horses. One by one, the women were thrown roughly over a mount. Berber held onto the lead rope.

Geist growled at Dryfus, who listened and translated in sign.

You make bad mistake. You make us mad. Now we hurt you. We hurt you much.