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  His breathing was more even now. His body seemed to ache less. He settled into a deeper sleep.

  In these moments of restful slumber, he would find his strength again so he could return to his people a well man.

  Yet…something made him want to find the woman first.

  Chapter Four

  Fighting the sting in her eyes caused by the pervasive black smoke, Nicole came to a stop as she entered what had for a short time been a town named after her family.

  A sob caught in her throat when she looked around her. All of the buildings, which had been few, were either already burned to the ground or burning rapidly.

  Nothing had been spared, and no one.

  She gulped hard as she tried not to vomit. There were dead bodies everywhere. She saw men, women, and children who had been viciously murdered.

  “No!” she cried to the heavens as everything in her rebelled when she caught sight of the two people she had loved so dearly lying nearby.

  “Mama, Papa…” she gasped.

  Her heart seemed to stop the instant she saw them, lying side by side, on their backs.

  She choked up with deep emotion when she saw that they were holding hands. It was such a touching scene, for in death they seemed to have found the truth of their love for each other.

  But when she saw how they had been killed, Nicole’s heart pounded and her face grew hot with a mixture of emotions—sadness, regret, pain, but most of all, hate for whoever had done this to her parents.

  Each had been shot with a single bullet in the forehead, execution style. Nicole almost fainted from the shock of it.

  Her despair was so overwhelming, she suddenly wished now that she had been with her parents, and had died with them. Living without them, alone, would be worse than death. How could she go on, knowing her parents had died in such a way?

  But she again focused on their clasped hands. That lone gesture of love made their deaths more bearable for Nicole. When she was overwhelmed with sadness and loneliness without them, she would remember the love her parents had shared as they took their last breaths of life.

  Sobbing, she slid from her saddle and started to go and kneel beside her parents to say a prayer. She stopped, her heart almost coming to a standstill in her chest, when she saw movement out of the corner of her eyes.

  Nicole turned quickly.

  She was breathless with hope when she saw a man stirring on the ground not far from where her parents lay. He was alive!

  Out of all this murder and mayhem…a man had survived.

  At that realization, Nicole felt a surge of resentment toward this man for having lived while her parents had not. But being a Christian, she felt sudden shame at her uncharitable feeling and hurried to the man to see if there was anything she could do for him.

  She knelt at his side. But as she did, she realized just how badly the man had been wounded.

  Through the blood on his shirt, she saw that he had been shot in the belly. She knew that was one of the worst places to be shot, and that most times the victim did not survive.

  Suddenly he reached out for Nicole’s hand and grabbed it. She could feel his trembling, yet there was a strange sort of determination in his grip. She saw that same determination in his eyes as he looked anxiously up at her through tears that were now streaming from his eyes.

  “I’m so sorry,” Nicole struggled to say between her own sobs. “I am so truly sorry. I wish I could do something. Your name. What’s your name?”

  She felt inadequate, knowing this was the only thing she could think to say to this man who was surely in so much pain, and whose breath could stop at any moment.

  Surely he had more important things to say than his name! But what could be important if you knew you were dying?

  Would he be thinking of his family? Was he wondering how they were? Would he ask her to search for them?

  Her thoughts were interrupted when the man finally managed to speak.

  “Harold Jones. My…name…is Harold…Jones,” he gasped, as he struggled to talk through the pain that was obviously gripping him. “Listen. Before I die, you must listen to what I have to say. You…need…to know that…it was white men who did this…not Injuns.”

  Nicole noticed that he winced with each word spoken, as though a knife was stabbing into his wound. She felt the same pain, even though she had no wound except the one in her heart created by her losses!

  Harold stopped and drew in a quivering breath, closed his eyes for a moment, but still held Nicole’s hand tightly.

  Then he looked up at her again.

  “Those men…they…looked innocent enough when they rode into town,” he continued, yet with a voice that grew fainter by the minute. “I must get this told. You need to know. Tell those who can do something about it.”

  “I will,” Nicole gulped out as she looked quickly over her shoulder at her parents, and then back into Harold’s eyes. “I promise I will.”

  “I was in the saloon when they came in,” Harold continued. “I was at the bar, drinking. The men, five of them, went over to the poker table and sat down. They started up a card game with Mr. Tyler. I…I…knew there would be trouble from the beginning. I could tell that one of those men had a grudge against Mr. Tyler.”

  Nicole gasped again and felt the color drain from her face at hearing her father’s name. Harold stopped and studied her expression, but seeming to sense he had little time left on this earth, he continued.

  “Suddenly everything went crazy. One of the men accused Mr. Tyler of cheating, saying Mr. Tyler had cheated before, too,” Harold said, his voice now barely a whisper.

  Nicole listened with an aching heart, for she now knew without a doubt that her father had not kept his word about never gambling again.

  “The man who accused Mr. Tyler of cheating said he’d not get the chance to cheat him again, or anyone else,” Harold said. “Mr. Tyler knew the man meant business and managed to flee the saloon before the other gambler got his first shot at him. I…I…followed the gambler and his men out of the building ‘cause I knew that all hell was ready to break loose. Suddenly Mr. Tyler’s wife was there. They…were both shot.”

  Harold gasped in pain and paused. Nicole could tell that he was struggling now with every breath and expected him to die at any moment.

  His hand weakened in hers. “I must…get…it said,” he said, his eyes now closed. “The strangers killed everyone in town. It was a massacre. They spared no one. The leader of this murderous gang? I caught one of the men calling him by name just before that same man turned and fired a bullet into my gut. The leader’s name…was…Sam Partain.”

  After speaking the name of the man who had ordered the killings, Harold Jones gasped again, drew in a shuddering breath, and then died.

  As his hand dropped away from hers, Nicole watched his body grow limp, his eyes now looking back at her with a death stare.

  Her hands trembling, she reached out and slowly closed his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “May the good Lord be with you.”

  Sobbing, she slowly stood up and went back to where her parents lay.

  Fortunately their eyes were closed so that she wouldn’t have to look into them and see death.

  Weak now from shock and despair, she knelt beside them. Smoke still billowed into the sky and ash now blew in the wind, swirling like small tornadoes along the death-ridden ground.

  Nicole gazed at her father. “How could you have lied?” she whispered, remembering the very moment he had promised he would never gamble again, and how sincerely he had said it to Nicole and her mother.

  “Papa, if you only knew the worst of it,” she said sadly. “You are responsible for the deaths of these people who trusted you enough to move into your town. It is all because of you and your love of gambling. Even my precious mother, your beloved wife, paid for your…your…stupidity, your sins!”

  She closed her eyes to try to compose herself, and while they were closed, the name that Harold
had spoken to her flashed into her mind.

  “Sam Partain,” she said aloud, her eyes opening quickly as she looked into the distance, where the murderers had no doubt disappeared.

  She looked down at her father again. “Papa, I remember that name,” she murmured. “He is that gambler you bragged about having beaten in poker more than once. Papa, apparently Sam Partain tracked you down and gambled this one last time with you. But this time, Papa, you were the loser. You lost your life.”

  Again Nicole looked around her, truly afraid when a sudden thought came to her like a slap in the face.

  Sam Partain held a grudge against her, too. She had met him once or twice and had been repelled by his rough ways. When he’d tired to cozy up to her, she’d turned a cold shoulder.

  She remembered now his angry reaction to her rejection.

  She gazed down at her father again. “Oh, Papa, I pray that while you were gambling with Sam Partain you didn’t say anything about me being on my way to town,” she said, her voice drawn. “I…I…know how you loved bragging about your only daughter.”

  Sam Partain had killed everyone who had anything to do with her father. Nicole truly feared that he might feel the need to take her life, too.

  If so, he might even at this moment be looking for her. He might be nearby.

  She was afraid that he might not rest until he saw that Nicole joined her parents in death.

  Yes, she must leave. And soon. But first she must say a little prayer over her parents’ bodies.

  She knew that she couldn’t chance taking the time to bury them. She was too afraid that Sam might even now be watching her from a distance.

  Sobbing, Nicole buried her face in her hands. Through her sobs she whispered a soft prayer. Then, as her eyes slowly opened, she saw something in her father’s vest pocket that made her aching sadness turn to sudden anger. There, in full view, was a pack of playing cards.

  Her father had promised never to gamble again!

  He had lied!

  Her fingers trembling, Nicole yanked the cards from his pocket and threw them into the wind.

  She gazed at her father’s clean-shaven face, which was now covered with his own life’s blood. The hole in his forehead was a hideous reminder of the violent way he and her mother had died.

  She could not help wondering which of them had been the first to be shot, while the other helplessly watched!

  Not wanting to think any more about the details of this horrible massacre, she stood up quickly.

  She looked through the smoke at the mountain that was visible not far from what remained of Tyler City.

  She would find protection there, and when she felt it was safe enough, she would ride to the closest fort, or town, where she could report the massacre.

  But for now, she must hide. She ran to her horse and mounted it.

  All she knew about this mountain was that it was inhabited by Navaho Indians. She was aware that she should be afraid of Indians, but at this moment, she was more afraid of Sam Partain.

  She had read in a St. Louis newspaper about all sorts of atrocities that Indians were guilty of. But so far, on her way to Tyler City, she had seen no Indians. She had spotted some smoke signals high in the mountains, but that was all.

  Was she being foolish to ride right into Navaho territory? A cold shiver rode her spine at the thought of coming face-to-face with an Indian.

  Yet still she turned her steed in the direction of the mountain and without a last look at what she must leave behind her on the cold ground, she rode away, to a new life. She was deeply afraid that her future would be lonely and filled with danger.

  Chapter Five

  As soon as Eagle Wolf had departed the village, his brother had set about constructing a new tepee for him. Spirit Wolf wanted to surprise Eagle Wolf with a new home when he returned, instead of waiting for Eagle Wolf to rebuild. Now Spirit Wolf was basking in the newness of the huge buckskin tepee.

  He would enjoy being his people’s chief while he could, for he had no doubt that Eagle Wolf would get well and soon return to reclaim the title.

  Spirit Wolf was dressed in clothes made from deerskin, a fringed shirt, leggings, and heavily beaded moccasins, his shiny black hair drawn back into a long braid down his back. He sat on the floor of the new tepee on a rich, thick mat of bear fur.

  The glow from the lodge fire in the center of the tepee was a little too warm on this autumn day, but he was enjoying this moment alone, savoring the feel of power.

  As he gazed at the flames rolling slowly over the logs in the firepit, he could not help imagining all sorts of benefits that would come with being temporary chief.

  He could even envision something that his brother talked against…warring with whites.

  Spirit Wolf felt different from his brother. Spirit Wolf hungered for war. He would proudly lead the warriors of his clan into battle!

  He had always felt the strong need to fight, not only with white enemies, but also any of the other tribes who threatened his Owl Clan.

  Ho, he would defeat the enemies of his people in battle and then rightfully claim the title of chief. He would prove his worth, prove he was more worthy of being chief than his brother. Eagle Wolf had backed away from war and brought their people to this mountain to hide.

  Hiding went against Spirit Wolf’s nature, yet because he was not the true chief, he had to accept whatever his brother decided was best to keep their people safe.

  “And they are safe,” Spirit Wolf whispered to himself as he stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles. “But will they always be so? Or will the white eyes finally decide to come onto the mountain and challenge our Owl Clan?”

  If so, Spirit Wolf would step forth and lead the battle against them!

  Ho, Spirit Wolf could not deny how he enjoyed his daydreams of being chief.

  He closed his eyes and smiled as he listened to the children at play outside in the shadow of the tall bluff that stood at the backside of the stronghold.

  Pretending that he was the true chief, Spirit Wolf listened to the voices of some elderly men as they traded stories beside an outdoor fire while smoking their long-stemmed pipes.

  He heard some women chattering like magpies, sitting together outside one of their lodges, speaking of things they had done today, or possibly even discussing their chief and the illness that had sent him away from their village.

  Knowing he now led all these people, Spirit Wolf felt important, more so than he ever had in his life.

  Ho, he had always been second to his brother, since he was the younger of the two. It had always been known which brother would be their Owl Clan’s leader once their father passed on to the other world.

  Because of that knowledge, everyone spoke more of Eagle Wolf. People had looked up to him early on, even before it was time for him to become their chief.

  Spirit Wolf was not certain when resentment against his brother began to grow inside his heart. But it was there.

  Recently those feelings had become more intense. Envy ate away at his insides when he saw that his brother was treated with more respect and awe than himself, even though Spirit Wolf had always tried to prove his own worth to his people.

  “It is hogay-gahn. It is wrong that nothing I have ever done, or said, changed anything,” he whispered bitterly to himself. “Nothing.”

  But now things had changed. However, the change would benefit Spirit Wolf only if his brother did not return to reclaim his title.

  Upon Eagle Wolf’s return, everything would go back to the way if had been. Ho, Spirit Wolf would again be made to walk in his brother’s shadow. And he would continue there either until his brother’s death, or Spirit Wolf’s own.

  Death did seem to be the only answer, but it was not something he wanted to think about. If his brother succumbed to this disease that had forced him to leave his people, then Spirit Wolf would finally achieve what he never could otherwise!

  “Chief Spirit Wolf,” he whispered to
himself, testing the sound of the title as it passed his lips.

  Again he smiled. “Ho, I like it,” he whispered. “And so shall everyone else when they have no other choice but to accept me as their chief.”

  He fought off the guilt that came with actually wishing his brother would die.

  Spirit Wolf had never shown any outward signs of resenting his brother; he knew those who witnessed such behavior would turn their backs on him in disgust.

  So he had carried this secret well guarded inside his heart; even his brother had never seen any hint of resentment when he looked at Spirit Wolf.

  Ho, now was the time for Spirit Wolf to be the object of everyone’s attention. Even those who were the most devoted to their true chief, Eagle Wolf, would see the worth of his younger brother.

  Spirit Wolf had cleverly aligned himself with warriors who he knew could be encouraged to follow his leadership, no matter what. If Eagle Wolf did live and return take up his old position, it would be brother against brother.

  Spirit Wolf planned to be the victor!

  He looked one last time around him, at the big new tepee. If his brother did return, this new lodge would be his, at least until Spirit Wolf got brave enough to do what he must to take leadership from his brother.

  But for now, Spirit Wolf had another place to be. His own new lodge, which had also recently been erected. He would return to it and to his new bride.

  When his people had fled to this mountain hideaway they had been joined by members of a different clan who were rescued along with Spirit Wolf’s own people and brought to live among them.

  Spirit Wolf had chosen a young and beautiful maiden from among those people. He had married her. He saw in her the perfect wife who would bear him many sons. To him, sons were far more important than daughters; it was necessary to have enough men to defend the future of their clan.

  Oh, but he did love his new bride. She was the only person in his life who had ever won his loyalty. Spirit Wolf had grown to love her, with a love so overwhelming, he knew that this woman was the most positive force in his life right now.