Star flushed. She was long past the marriage age, and being referred to as an older maiden was an insult. Golden Eagle held up his hand, preventing her from saying anything further.
“Go back to your father’s tipi. I have no time for your sharp tongue,” he commanded, motioning the waiting warriors to follow him.
Searching diligently on foot, they spread out, going downriver where the girls were last seen. Around a bend, they found woven baskets, their contents of leaves, roots, bark and purplish flowers strewn across the carpet of green grass.
There the grim-faced warriors also found signs of the girls’ struggles. It appeared they had been carried through a belt of thick shrubbery on the other side of the shallow stream. Crossing the stream, they followed the tracks of two men.
The trail of footprints led the anxious group farther downriver to where two sets of tracks became four, and horse tracks replaced human ones.
Golden Eagle and Red Fox squatted to study the crisscrossing tracks. “These tracks carry our girls,” Red Fox stated, pointing out two of the four sets of prints that made deeper impressions in the rain-softened earth, suggesting those horses carried two riders each.
“The horses are shod,” Golden Eagle added, their eyes meeting. White men had been near.
“Let us return to the others and prepare to go after them. We will find and deal with those who take what does not belong to them. Come.”
Golden Eagle led the swift return to report their findings to the council, and the decision was made to move to a new location that night. It was too risky to remain.
Tipis were quickly taken down, travois loaded and ready meals hastily eaten. The warriors would catch up. Golden Eagle was the chosen leader of the small band. Hisclosest friend, Red Fox, was among the five bravest warriors who would accompany him.
Weapons were made ready, medicine pouches prepared and blessings given from their Wicasa Wakan, Holy Man. Prayers were sent to the Great Spirit to guide them and return the mighty warriors with the daughters of Stands Tall.
The moon hung suspended against a star-studded background lighting the way as the tireless warriors followed the trail of fleeing horses throughout the long night. They slowed only when clouds blocked the moon’s glow.
It was late afternoon. One day had passed since the two girls had disappeared. They’d ridden long and hard, breaking only to rest and water their horses, when they came upon the girls.
Six battle-hardened warriors stood surveying the nauseating sight before them. Both girls had been raped, beaten and stabbed to death.
Off to one side lay the body of one white male, a crude knife protruding from his evil heart, his life blood drained from his body to soak into the earth beneath him.
Golden Eagle kneeled and removed the knife. It was the type of knife many of the women in his tribe used in their daily tasks. He carefully wiped it clean. He would present it to Stands Tall. His daughter had died honorably. The young girl had bravely fought for her life and managed to kill one of her attackers. But in the end, she’d been overpowered and killed along with her sister.
“Why do they do this?” Red Fox thundered.
Golden Eagle looked to the heavens, arms high over his head, seeking answers.
“I do not understand the greedy whites. Our people go out of their way to keep to ourselves. Why do the whites seek our people out? Why do they take and kill? Do they not have enough that they must take from us?”
Taking deep breaths to calm the fury that threatened to choke him, he gave a bitter laugh, his face mirroring the murderous expression of the others. “And whites say we are savages!” He spat and turned away in disgust. His people prided themselves on dealing honestly and justly, both within their tribe and with their enemies.
Even death to an enemy was carefully thought out and planned. Chief Hawk Eyes would not allow senseless killings within
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley