Savage Courage

Refusing to allow what he said to upset her too much, she had refused his offer. She hated alcohol, even the vile smell of it. And if she didn’t drink any, there would be more for him.

If he drank himself into a stupor and lost all sense of what he was doing, it would not take much to escape from him.

She saw even now out of the corner of her eye that he had taken another drink, then rudely burped and laughed raucously when she turned her head quickly so that she didn’t have to look at his disgusting face.

“So you think you’re too good to share firewater with me, do you?” Mountain Jack said, sliding his canteen back into his saddlebag. “What else do you think you’re too good for, squaw? Don’t you know that those white clothes don’t really make a civilized person outta you? You’re a redskin through and through, no matter how you dress or talk. I’ll have a lot of fun with you, squaw. But first things first. I have business to attend to.”

Shoshana wondered what sort of business he was talking about. What was he going to do with her while taking care of this other “business”?

And where was he taking her?

A thought came to her that made cold dread swim through her. Had he spared her life in order to trade her as a slave to some depraved man?

If that was his plan, was he taking her where he was going to trade her, instead of to his hideout as she had originally thought?

No matter where he planned to take her, or why, she must find a way to escape, and soon. If not, she was doomed to a life far different from any she had ever known.

As the sun lowered in the sky and shadows fell all around her, she knew that George Whaley would be concerned about her not having returned to the fort with the young major.

Tears stung her eyes as she thought of Major Klein and how he had died. But she could not dwell on that. Her prime concern now must be herself.

Somehow, some way, she must find a way to flee this horrible man and whatever horrible fate he had planned for her.

She guessed they were near their destination, for she doubted that Mountain Jack would want to travel along this steep, narrow pass at night, especially without a moon to guide them.

She glanced up at the sky. It was cloudy. There wouldn’t be a moon tonight. There might even be a storm.

The temperature had dropped with the setting of the sun. She began to tremble. She ached to be near a comforting fire.

She ached to be safe back at the fort. Or even back home in Missouri. She could not deny missing Missouri and the friends she had left behind there.

But she longed even more to find traces of her true people, perhaps even her mother, here in Arizona. This was where her life started. She wondered if it would end here, too.

She gazed farther up the mountain in the direction of the setting sun. Not long ago, she had seen the sun reflecting from something in the higher elevations above her.

Perhaps it was an Indian. It might even have been Chief Storm, sending a message to another Indian with a mirror instead of smoke, which could attract too much attention.

Upon learning that she was going to Arizona, where her Apache people lived, Shoshana had read as much material on Indians as she could find. She had read about smoke signals and learned that it

was a swift way to send messages to friends.

She learned that “smokes,” as the smoke signals were called by the Apache, were of various kinds, each one communicating a particular idea.

A sudden puff, rising into a graceful column from the mountain heights, indicated the presence of a strange party upon the plains below.

If the column was rapidly multiplied and repeated, the signal served as a warning that the travelers were well armed, and numerous.

If a steady smoke was maintained for some time, the scattered bands of Apache would congregate at some designated point.

She hadn’t seen any smoke signals today, but she might have seen a mirror being used to send similar signals. If it was an Indian watching her and the scalp hunter, should she hope that he might save her? Or should she be even more afraid of an Indian than the scalp hunter?

“Make a sharp right turn,” Mountain Jack suddenly growled out to her. “We’re leavin’ the pass now. Just keep on ridin’ and doin’ what I say and you’ve got a good chance of surviving.”

Good chance? Shoshana thought to herself. She didn’t know how to interpret that.

They rode for a long time, the darkness like a shroud around them. Mountain Jack seemed not to have need of any light. He knew where he was going, guiding Shoshana down first one pass and then another, leveling off to a flat stretch of land, and then climbing higher again.

But finally the way grew wider and Shoshana began to believe that she was going to at least survive the journey to wherever he was taking her.