Nudging his knees into the sides of his stallion, Shane forced his steed to move faster. He could hear his horse's labored breathing as it pushed its legs through the snow, so white it blended in with it. He could see his horse's breath crystalizing on its mouth and the hairs of its chin. He could feel its muscles cording beneath his clamped legs, knowing the effort it was making to please and obey its master!
"That'a boy," Shane whispered, running his gloved hand over the horse's mane. "Just a little farther and I'll have you beside a fire. Your bones will get warmed." He nudged his knees again into his steed's side. "Come on, boy. You can do it. Just a little bit farther."
Through the trees ahead Shane saw the communal fire, then the wigwams that sat in the snow in a circle around it. No one was outside their dwellings. Nor did Shane see any horses in the corral.
Was he too late? Should he have come sooner?
But the weather had only recently grown this severe. The Chippewa usually stored foods of all kinds to last the duration of the winter.
The continuing mournful wails pierced not only
Shane's ears, but his heart. As soon as he was within running distance of the village, he swung himself out of his saddle. He could make better time without his horse. He had to see who was being mourned for! Normally, if the whole village was in trouble, it suffered in silence. The sort of wails that Shane was hearing were only performed when someone of great importance was dying.
Suddenly Shane saw his friend, Red Raven, step from Chief Gray Falcon's wigwam. Their eyes met and held, and then they began running toward one another. They lunged into each other's arms and embraced tightly.
"What has happened?" Shane asked, drawing away from Red Raven. He glanced over at Gray Falcon's wigwam, then into his friend's dark, fathomless eyes. He clasped his hands onto Red Raven's buckskin-clad shoulders. "Why are you here, my friend? You departed from this village long ago!"
"I am here because I was summoned," Red Raven said solemnly. "I am Gray Falcon's cousin. I am next in line to be chief."
"You were summoned here toto become chief?" Shane said, his voice shallow.
"Ay-uh, that is so," Red Raven said, looking over his shoulder at Gray Falcon's dwelling, then back at Shane. "My cousin lies near death."
Shane paled, his heart sank. "How?" he said, his blue eyes imploring Red Raven. "He is so strong! How could he, of all of the people of the village, be the one who is dying?"
"He is not the first," Red Raven said, lowering his eyes sadly. "Many of our people were tainted by poisoned animals found dead in traps in the forest."
Shane was taken aback by this discovery. He exhaled a heavy breath, afraid to ask the next question. Was this not the act of someone as careless and vicious as Trapper Dan? Trapper Dan would be the sort to leave poisoned meat near the traps to lure the forest animals out of their winter shelters. The trapped animals would then poison anyone who ate them! Trapper Dan always only wanted their pelts.
Shane held his face in his hands. When he had investigated to see if Trapper Dan had finally died from the loss of blood, his body was gone and Shane had surmised that either an animal had dragged it away and had feasted upon it, or someone had found him and had buried him. Never in his wildest dreams had he thought the man would survive his wounds!
He looked slowly up at Red Raven. "Who is responsible for the poison?" he asked, his voice drawn.
"The braves are on his trail now," Red Raven said, doubling a fist at his side. "It is the same trapper who paid a high bride price for Cedar Maid! It is Trapper Dan!"
A sick feeling invaded Shane's insides. He turned abruptly away, afraid that he was going to retch. He cursed himself for being the careless one this time. He should have shot Trapper Dan! The
proof would have been there for all to see and Trapper Dan wouldn't have had the chance to harm any more innocent people!
Then Shane brushed aside Red Raven and hurried into Gray Falcon's dwelling. He saw Gray Falcon lying on a raised platform, already decked out in his finest doeskin outfit, colorful beads resplendent across the fringed shirt and leggings. His hair was drawn back and his face was already painted with vermilion, his eyes closed, sunken with death's approach.
Shane went and stood over Gray Falcon. Tears streamed from his eyes, recalling how his childhood friend had tried to recapture their friendship on Shane's wedding day. Being too stubborn and proud, Shane had forbidden it! Childhood friends had become distant adult friends when jealousy clouded Gray Falcon's reasoning. Then Shane had sent Gray Falcon away. And now Gray Falcon was dying!
"Gray Falcon?" he said, falling to a knee beside the platform.
Gray Falcon's eyes did not open, but he reached a shaky hand to Shane. "You . . . have . . . come," he whispered. "That is good."
"If I had known of your trouble, I would have come sooner," Shane said, unable to stop the trembling in his voice.
"You are here now," Gray Falcon said, his voice so slight that Shane had to lean forward to hear. "That is all that matters." His eyes opened slowly. He looked at Shane. "Red Raven will now be chief. It is only right.
I have not had sons."
"Nor have I," Shane said, clasping hard onto his friend's hand. "But I shall. My wife is with child."
Gray Falcon's lips quivered into a smile. "Even with child is she beautiful?" he asked, coughing.
"Ay-uh, even with child," Shane said, looking over his shoulder as Red Raven came into the wigwam and knelt down beside Shane.