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  At that moment, he glanced to his right and almost cried out. Wolf Who Hunts Smiling was eerily clear in the ghostly light. He had risen to a crouch over his sleeping victim and unsheathed his knife. Matthew realized he meant to kill the Pawnee and raise his scalp!

  Wolf Who Hunts Smiling was convinced he could kill quickly and silently and obtain an important trophy for his clan’s lodge pole. Despite Black Elk’s strict command, he knew his cousin would be proud of him afterward. He would simply lie and say his victim woke up, forcing him to kill in his own defense.

  He didn’t count on the Pawnee’s cunning. For the Pawnee had circled his robes with dried seed pods. As Wolf Who Hunts Smiling approached the drunken Indian, he crushed one of the pods with his heel.

  Awakened by the crackling, the Pawnee instantly raised a hideous warning shriek. All around the camp other braves leaped up and kicked glowing embers into flames. Matthew saw Little Horse, a captured lance and bow in his hands, break for the oak trees. Black Elk was right behind him, clutching a brave’s muzzle-loader.

  True Son was clearing the corral leading a buckskin pony. He mounted the pony and dug his heels into its flanks. But before he could escape a rifle spat fire, and True Son snapped backwards to the ground, arms flung wide. His heels scratched the ground for a few moments before he died.

  Wolf Who Hunts Smiling barely managed to jump back in time when the brave he had awoken grabbed for his ankle. As more rifles spoke into the night, Wolf Who Hunts Smiling bolted for the trees, Matthew right behind him. One image burned itself into both boys’ minds when the Pawnee warrior rose in the moonlight to chase them: the cape their enemy wore was covered with scalps.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Luck was with Black Elk’s band. The Pawnee marauders, experts at deception themselves, suspected the nighttime raid was merely a decoy to lure them into an ambush. So they refused to give chase beyond their protective circle of scrub oak.

  The Cheyenne were able to retrieve their horses and escape without further bloodshed. They made the long, moonlit trek back down the steep trail. Then they raced north to bring word of War Thunder and his band to the main camp. Unfortunately for Matthew, however, new troubles began at dawn when Black Elk halted his band to water their ponies in the Little Bighorn River.

  “Woman Face caused the death of True Son!” Wolf Who Hunts Smiling said to his cousin and the others. “I saw everything! As I was about to untie my enemy’s medicine bag, I saw him shake his brave’s shoulder until he woke him up. This proves Woman Face is a spy and hopes to seize the opportunity to have us killed. Only then can he escape.”

  “Then may the white man’s spy die of the yellow vomit!” Swift Canoe said, anger smoldering in his eyes. “His deception has killed my brother!”

  Black Elk seized the youth when he leaped at Matthew. “Enough! Will you wail like an old squaw when your brother died like a warrior? Stop this unmanly display of feelings close to your heart. Our first duty now is to report our enemies to the headmen.”

  He cast a cold-eyed glance at Matthew. “We will discuss these other matters in council also.”

  Matthew was too angry at Wolf Who Hunts Smiling to bother defending himself. Not only was Wolf Who Hunts Smiling lying, but he had no doubt enraged War Thunder so much that the Pawnee leader would once again attack Yellow Bear’s people. Matthew was sure Wolf Who Hunts Smiling had seen that cape of human scalps. But who would believe him, Woman Face?

  The youths arrived back at their camp by mid-morning. Immediately the camp crier notified Yellow Bear and Arrow Keeper of their arrival, then rode up and down the clan circles announcing an emergency council. Arrow Keeper, Yellow Bear, the clan headmen assembled, and the adult braves met in their new council lodge. The gathering was considerably smaller than the one before the Powder River massacre. But Black Elk’s band, as warriors in training, were permitted to attend to answer the sub chiefs’ questions.

  Matthew was coldly ignored by everyone in the lodge, for Wolf Who Hunts Smiling had spread his lie. Unable to stand the scorn, Matthew returned to the tipi he shared with Arrow Keeper. Although no one had yet formally accused him of any crime, he knew the men would discuss him at the council, and no doubt they would decide his fate once again with the stones.

  As usual, women and children were not permitted at the council. Nonetheless, at a back corner of the council lodge where two elk skins did not quite overlap on their branch frame, Honey Eater crouched, breathlessly listening for every word from within.

  Her jet-black hair was braided with white columbine, and shells and colored stones adorned her dress. Her pretty face went tense with panic when a stray cloud of smoke from inside wafted into her nostrils and almost made her cough. It was the rich, strong smell of white man’s tobacco. She liked the scent, but it always took her by surprise.

  She knew that the tall stranger would be discussed that day. She had heard the charges against him passed on from tipi to tipi like fire leaping through dry grass. He was accused not only of causing True Son’s death, but of forcing Black Elk’s band to disgrace the entire tribe as well. No Cheyenne ever left their dead alone anywhere, much less among enemies who would surely mutilate the body. True Son would never enter the Land of Ghosts, but must roam alone with his soul in pain forever.

  Honey Eater shuddered at the enormity of True Son’s horrible fate. Such a charge against the newcomer would not be treated lightly. Besides that, had she not seen the angry, swollen lump on his forehead and the ragged gash on Little Horse’s chest? Whatever the problem, the fiery hatred in the eyes of Wolf Who Hunts Smiling told her there would be trouble for the handsome newcomer.

  So, ignoring the risk, she dared to eavesdrop on the council. If she were caught, her place as the chief’s daughter would not save her from punishment; rather, it would make the tribe’s wrath greater. She thought of Eagle in Flight of the Deer Clan. He had cut off his squaw’s nose for lying with another brave. The punishment for her sin would be even greater. But as the council progressed, her fears for Matthew seemed wasted, for the talk within was all of war.

  “These Pawnee must be hunted out like wild dogs!” a clan leader declared. “It is not only their attack on our former camp that we must avenge. They have been stealing from our traps in the beaver ponds. Like the blue-eyes, they slaughter one buffalo for a few morsels of meat. Soon they will leave us chewing the strings from our own buckskins for nourishment.”

  His argument was met with shouts of strong agreement.

  “We must strike War Thunder now while his numbers are small!” Honey Eater heard another say. “Our enemies blackened their faces against us first. Now let us grease their bones with war paint.”

  More shouts of approval rang out. Soon, with her father’s calm voice occasionally imposing order, plans for war were made. A war chief would be named by Yellow Bear, who had been chosen as a peace leader only. The important Medicine Arrows ceremony would be conducted by Arrow Keeper that night. Early the next day, the braves would prepare for battle and ride out.

  The battle plans decided, the men considered other matters. Honey Eater tensed when she recognized the voice of Swift Canoe. She was sorry his brother had died an unclean death. But she had never liked or trusted either of the twins. Their Wolverine Clan were known among the village as complainers who always shirked hard work and loved to stir up trouble.

  “Fathers! Please hear my plea. The death of my brother, True Son, must be avenged. Fathers! Hear the words Wolf Who Hunts Smiling has for you. They are true words which you may put in your sashes and carry away with you.”

  Honey Eater listened, her face a mask of concern, as Wolf Who Hunts Smiling repeated his account of Matthew’s supposed treachery. When he fell silent, a long and angry murmur filled the lodge, and from amid the rumble of voices, Little Horse spoke out calmly.

  “Fathers! Hear me well. It is true Little Horse could not see everything which happened in the Pawnee camp. But he knows that Wolf Who Hunts Smiling likes to sp
eak with more than one tongue. The one Arrow Keeper has named Touch the Sky makes many mistakes, but he is one of us. His heart is strong and true, and he speaks one way always.”

  “You say these things because I put the wound on your chest,” retorted Wolf Who Hunts Smiling. “I say he is a spy and we should kill him!”

  Old Arrow Keeper had deliberately held his silence until that moment. He had decided to trust in the power of his medicine dream. Either it was a true dream, or it was strong magic placed over his eyes. Like Yellow Bear, he knew the young men must have their say. But now, the medicine man addressed himself to Black Elk.

  “Your young cousin has the hot temper of your clan, certainly. But the bitter things he has seen have bent him, as a rough wind bends a tender shoot. Now there is nothing but hard bark on him.”

  “Hard bark, father,” Black Elk answered proudly, “can repel an arrow.”

  Honey Eater decided to listen to no more. She had heard enough to fear the outcome. Dark clouds were gathering. She had to act before the storm broke. She slipped away from the council lodge and left to warn Matthew.

  Matthew remained inside the sweat lodge until the last wisps of steam were gone and the red-hot rocks had grown cold. He was soaked from scalp to soles. It was almost as if he had tried to sweat the white man’s influence out of himself, leaving nothing but Cheyenne behind. But fear and doubts plagued him as he emerged from the sweat lodge and wiped himself down with sagebrush.

  Naked, he headed toward the river to plunge in for a cooling rinse. He knew full well the rest of the camp was either attending the council or eagerly awaiting its decisions. He also knew the men were discussing him at the council. The only reason they had not tied him up again was their respect for Arrow Keeper.

  But how long, Matthew wondered, would the old medicine man remain his friend—especially since the rest of the tribe resented Arrow Keeper for protecting a suspected spy. The lies Wolf Who Hunts Smiling was no doubt telling about him would only make matters worse.

  Matthew paused where the grassy bank gave way to the streaming river. The water moved quickly, it was cool and clean, but still tinted brown from the spring soil runoff. The opposite bank was a wall of dense thickets that appeared impenetrable. But in fact, behind it lay secret escape trails. Every Cheyenne in camp old enough to walk knew of their location.

  Again Matthew recalled Arrow Keeper’s teachings. He tried to free his mind of thoughts and pay attention instead to the language of nature. He could pick out the harsh calls of willets and grebes and hawks, the soft warblings of orioles and thrushes and purple finches. But even as he slipped, sweaty and hot, into the cold water, his mind returned to one problem like a tongue to a chipped tooth. Was he a white man or a Cheyenne? Or was he neither, an outcast rejected by both races?

  When the water reached the middle of his thighs, he ducked the rest of his body under for a long time, letting the swift current cleanse his sweaty pores. He stood up again, and the breeze blew cool against his wet skin. He shook his head once to clear his eyes of water.

  Abruptly, a flock of sandpipers rose in a nervous jerk from the grassy bank behind him. Matthew whirled around. Then he froze as still as a startled deer when he saw a figure watching him.

  Recognizing Honey Eater, he instinctively squatted down to hide his nakedness. Though her eyes were cast modestly downward, she made no effort to flee. She called something to him, but her words were lost in the rushing current. A moment later, she surprised him even more by wading out toward him.

  For a moment, he forgot his training and let disbelief show in his face. He watched her draw nearer, her pretty, finely sculpted face urgent with some message for him. He watched the water soak her buckskin dress and make it cling like a second skin to her slender thighs. When she stood close enough to touch him, he could smell the fragrant white columbine petals in her hair.

  “You must go,” she said. “Go while you can. Leave this place forever!”

  It was the first time he had heard her speak. Her voice was gentle like a breeze through tall grass, but her message disturbed him.

  “Why must I leave?”

  “The council goes badly. Some speak for you, but they are not many. If the stones are allowed to speak, it will mean trouble for you. You must run now!”

  Still crouching awkwardly, he stared at the maiden until she finally met his eyes. “Why do you come here? If you are caught it means trouble for you also.”

  The question made blood rush to her face, but she ignored it. “It is Wolf Who Hunts Smiling. He has spoken against you. He says you are a spy, that you killed True Son with your treachery.”

  For a long moment, Matthew was silent as he recalled the night when Wolf Who Hunts Smiling had stepped between him and the fire. The hotheaded young Cheyenne was determined to kill him. “Do you believe these things he says about me?”

  Honey Eater met his eyes for a moment before she looked away and shook her head. “No. It is true that I do not know you. But I feel in my heart that you are not capable of these things he says. But the others do not feel as I do. You must leave this place at once!”

  Their eyes met again, and this time she did not look away so quickly. Matthew watched a vein pulse in the soft smooth skin of her throat. The current was swift and Honey Eater moved slightly the wrong way, stepping on a slippery rock that threw her off balance.

  She stumbled and was about to fall, but Matthew reached out, easily catching her. She felt light as a reed. While she was in his grasp, the current moved them together, and he felt the firm curves of her body against his naked flesh.

  “I must return,” she said, stepping back out of his arms. “Please promise that you will flee at once.”

  He could not speak. The burning touch of her flesh had left his throat tight with sudden desire. But when his blood finally cooled, he felt nothing but determination. He had been forced to leave the only family he knew and the girl he loved; he had suffered torture and humiliation and unjust accusations; everywhere his enemies were plotting against him.

  Then let them plot, Matthew decided. All the unjust treatment had left him bitter and hardened. He was sick of running. He would fight his enemies and win—no matter how much he had to sacrifice to do so.

  Honey Eater read his thoughts in his eyes. Before she turned around to wade back to shore, she pleaded one more time. “You must flee. I fear the stones will demand your death.”

  With that she hurried away as fast as the current would permit. But Matthew shouted above the bubbling chuckle of the river, “Never! I will run away no more. I will die first!”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Before the stones could speak against Matthew, a youth from the Lightning Bolt Clan boldly lifted the elk-skin flap away from the entrance of the council lodge. His eyes were wide with urgency.

  “Fathers! Come at once. Red Pony is back with a message. Come quickly! He is dying.”

  The headmen’s surprise at being interrupted in council gave way to swift action. Yellow Bear and the councilors hurried outside to the middle of camp, where Red Pony lay with his head on a rolled-up blanket. An ugly swelling high on his chest marked the spot a lead ball had struck.

  Within moments, almost everyone in camp had crowded around the new arrival. Honey Eater had just returned from the river when she heard the commotion, and Matthew also hurried up from the river to see what was happening.

  He recognized Red Pony at once. The young brave was in charge of the hunting party that went out early each morning. The hunters returned near dark, sometimes after, with their catch lashed to a travois. It was clear he had lost much blood and would die despite the efforts of the old squaw tending to him.

  “Yellow Bear!” he said when he recognized the chief. “Our enemies surround us. No one may enter or leave our camp. The others were killed. But I was able to hide and then crawl back before their guards were in place.”

  Despite his age, Yellow Bear easily dropped into a squat beside the dying brave
. Red Pony’s hard journey back had left his voice weak.

  “Which enemies, little brother?” the chief said.

  “Pawnee, Father! I could hear their talk while they searched for me. War Thunder is like a sore-tailed bear in his anger. The lice-eaters say their leader woke to find a brazen Cheyenne buck preparing to raise his scalp. Now War Thunder must have his revenge.”

  Upon hearing Red Pony’s words, Black Elk stared at his young cousin. Had Wolf Who Hunts Smiling defied his order not to kill during the raid on the Pawnee camp? If Black Elk expected an answer, he was disappointed, for Wolf Who Hunts Smiling remained as impassive as a carved totem, his face revealing nothing.

  “Our camp is surrounded?” Yellow Bear said. “You are sure of this? Where are the sentries?”

  “Dead or captured, Father. War Thunder waits only for the other scattered bands to join him. They are expected in perhaps two sleeps. His band is enough to ring us and stop us from fleeing until the rest arrive. They have even found where our escape trails end. This time, War Thunder swears, the scalp of Yellow Bear will adorn his cape!”

  The cracked-leather worry lines in Yellow Bear’s face deepening, he addressed Arrow Keeper.

  “War Thunder is clever like a fox. We do not have the braves to fight him. He knows well that even if we could send a messenger through his guards, no one could help us. Catch the Hawk’s Cheyenne, on the Rosebud, and Spring Dance’s Lakota have combined for a huge hunt north of the Yellowstone. Both have sent word they will not return until the Moon of the Red Cherries.”

  Yellow Bear, Arrow Keeper, and several senior headmen spoke quietly but urgently among themselves. While the elders conferred, Matthew spotted a small but sturdy form and worked his way through the others until he stood beside Little Horse. Wolf Who Hunts Smiling immediately noticed them. He nudged Swift Canoe with his elbow, and they approached the other two.