His heart thumping, he turned and saw soldiers returning to the fort.
His heart skipped a beat when he got a glimpse of something that turned his insides cold. The body of a soldier was draped across a horse, his . . . scalp . . . removed.
Unaware that the colonel had come to his side, George jumped when he spoke.
He turned to Colonel Hawkins and saw his deep frown at the sight of the slain soldier.
“I was afraid of that,” the colonel said, sighing heavily. “After you came to me worrying so much about your daughter and Major Klein, I sent the cavalry out to search for them. It seems they found the major, but not Shoshana.”
“The major . . . ?” George gasped out, turning and once again gazing at the slain man. He turned back to the colonel. “How do you know it’s him?”
“A scout came ahead and told me,” Colonel Hawkins said, his eyes wavering as they gazed into George’s. “George, someone apparently ambushed them. The major was killed and your daughter . . . abducted.”
“Lord . . . Lord . . .” George said, feeling light-headed as he thought about Mountain Jack and how surely he was the one who had done this horrible, heartless thing.
“Most of the search party is still out there trying to find Shoshana, but the scouts lost the tracks early on,” Colonel Hawkins said. “They won’t give up, at least not until darkness makes tracking impossible. Then they will have no choice but to return to the fort or become victims themselves, of either the scalp hunter or hungry animals . . . or even renegades.”
As the soldiers drew rein a short distance from George and the colonel, George went to one. “Where did you find the major?” he asked thickly. “How far from the fort?”
“Quite a distance, sir,” the young soldier replied. “I’m sorry, sir, but there was no sign of your daughter anywhere. The tracks had been covered up. The one who is responsible for this killing is a clever man who is skilled at being elusive.”
George felt a burning rage enter his heart. He glared from soldier to soldier, then flailed an arm in the air as he shouted at them. “Get back out there! Find her! Don’t come back until you have my daughter with you!”
A strained silence ensued as the soldiers looked past George and stared at their colonel.
Colonel Hawkins stepped up to George’s side. “Must I remind you that I’m in charge here, and that I am the one who gives out the orders?” he said tightly. “For now, we must lie low. We have a dead soldier to bury. As we speak, there are soldiers out there risking their lives to hunt for Shoshana. You can’t expect the whole fort to go.”
“I can’t believe my ears,” George shouted at the colonel. “You, and those who returned without my daughter, are yellow!”
Although it had been some time since he had mounted a horse because of his wooden leg, George yanked a soldier from his steed. He shoved his cane in next to the rifle in its leather case at the side of the horse.
Then after groaning and grunting, he finally managed to get himself in the saddle. He glared at the colonel, as if daring him to allow a crippled man to leave the fort alone, with darkness coming on.
“Oh, very well,” Colonel Hawkins grunted. “We’ll ride out together to find the rest of the search party. We’ll camp overnight and begin the hunt again as soon as it’s light. I don’t need two missing people on my hands.”
Chapter Nine
My face in thine eyes,
Thine in mine appear,
And true plain hearts do
In the faces rest!
—John Donne
Shoshana was made to travel in front of Mountain Jack up a steep, narrow pass that climbed from the valley floor up a rock-walled canyon.
She knew now that she was at the mercy of the sandy-whiskered man, for the only escape was down the narrow passageway, and he had made sure that she wouldn’t get the chance to flee by forcing her to ride ahead of him.
Her only hope now was that whenever they reached their destination, however far it was up in the mountain, there would be a moment of inattention when she could turn her horse around and escape back down the mountain pass.
She had hoped that soon he would have to take a break to relieve himself in the bushes. She felt the need to do that, herself, but would not ask permission of him. After she escaped she would take care of her personal needs.
He had taken a drink from his canteen often. She knew there was whiskey in the canteen because she had gotten a sniff of it when he handed it to her, asking if she wanted a swig of firewater, as he had called it.
He had laughed when she declined, then told her that most Indians would kill for a drink of firewater. Then he’d scowled, saying that she was different, though, wasn’t she? She was a civilized savage!