Agnes and the Renegade (Men of Defiance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Thank you. I’ll let her know she’ll have no further trouble from you.” Logan stood and set a hand on Chayton’s shoulder. “Please consider at least meeting your grandmother. She is of an advanced age. It would mean a great deal for her to finally set eyes on her grandson. I watched the hell my father went through when he was searching for my brother. It eats at a person to know your flesh and blood is out there somewhere in the world, alone.”
    “It would mean nothing to me. My grandparents are dead. My parents are dead. My sister and brothers are dead. My wife and son are dead. I have lost my people. I am dead, too.”
    “Your daughter lives.”
    “Yes. And I will continue to provide meat for her until the Wakȟáŋ Tȟáŋka brings me to rejoin my family and my people.”
    “White Bird is thriving in her life with us. Perhaps I will introduce her to her great-grandmother.”
    Chayton glared at Logan. “You will keep her away from my grandmother.”
    “When you asked us to foster her, you asked that we teach her to live in the white world. We have done that. And we have helped her remember her Lakota heritage. Such a balance is important. Her great-grandmother is part of her world, an important part that she should not have to miss out on.”
    Chayton turned to leave. There was no point saying the same thing over. “I have spoken on the matter of my grandmother,” he said as he walked away. “You will tell your guest that I will not interfere with her visit to my valley provided she stays to the south of this ridge. I do not want her to near my cave or to go into the Valley of Painted Walls.”
    “I will make that known to her.”
    Chayton climbed to the ridge above the cave where he lived. From that vantage point, he could see the wide plains that spread far into the southern horizon. He did not want to think about his last days at the Agency. Yet though he closed his mind to the subject, the memories still seeped out of the tears in his heart.
    The sun was like fire. He looked at the crops wilting in the long, straight rows and knew, with an unshakeable certainty, that the earth would not feed his people this winter. It was the middle of the summer and there had been no rain for a cycle of the moon. The women and children gave the crops what water they could, but the ground was endlessly thirsty.  
    “There he is!” a couple of the soldiers who worked at the Agency pointed him out to a group of white men.
    Chayton squared his shoulders as he faced the men.
    “You the one they call ‘Chayton’?”  
    “I am.”
    “Your mother was Lucy Burkholder?”
    “No.”
    “Shit. What was her Indian name?” the man said to one of the others. “Spotted Horse. Spotted Woman.”
    “My mother was Spotted Horse Woman.”
    “Thought so. He’s the one. Bring him.”
    Chayton resisted, pushing back at the first man who tried to take hold of his arm. The fight escalated fast, but with so many of them, his hands were quickly and tightly bound. The man holding the other end of the rope was mounted and quickly took off at a trot, forcing Chayton to jog behind his horse. Twice he fell and was dragged for a short distance before he was able to right himself and get back on his feet.
    By the time they reached the officers’ quarters where the Agency office was located, he was drenched with sweat. The salt seared the scrapes on his chest and arms. A crowd of his people had gathered, following them to the office. It was a terrible thing to see one of their own dragged away. He lifted his chin to show them his courage, hoping it would calm them. If white men were allowed to come onto the reservation and drag him away, whom might they take next? Any of his people could be subjected to that treatment. A woman or an elder would not survive being dragged across the reservation.
    He put his back to the crowd to shield them from the bloody mess of his skin. The men pulled his rope and led him into the adobe building.