Savage Courage

Several complained that this was a waste of time, that they should turn back. There had been no sign of Shoshana anywhere.

But George would not give up yet. There was one thing that might change his mind, though. His “invisible” leg, the amputated part below his right knee, ached unmercifully as though it were still there.

During damp weather, George’s pain worsened, and after his thorough soaking the night before, the pain was almost unbearable.

He would never understand this mysterious pain. There was nothing there to hurt. There was only a piece of wood where his flesh had once been.

But the pain was real enough. At this very moment, the ache felt like icy stabs going up his leg.

Because of this pain, George was beginning to doubt whether he could continue the search. If he was in such pain after just one night on the trail, how would he feel once they climbed to higher elevations, and then had the entire journey to make back down on their return to the fort?

“Damn bad,” he whispered to himself.

Yes, his misery was real enough, and it was doubled because he missed Shoshana so much and was so concerned about her welfare. Anyone who would kill a young soldier and scalp him in such a way had no heart.

Had her abductor already killed Shoshana?

Then another thought came to him that made him almost vomit: Perhaps by now the man had raped her. If so, George would have no mercy for the culprit. He would make sure the man died slowly and painfully.

He looked over his shoulder and upward at the steep mountain pass they would soon be traveling. He was not sure if he could make it with the awkwardness he felt now while riding a horse. Having only one leg made it difficult to stay in the saddle.

More than once yesterday he had almost slid off his horse.

He stared into the fire once again. He hadn’t been aware of how his age had caught up with him until he had come back to the land of the Apache.

Missouri was tame compared to Arizona.

He hated himself for being so daft as to think he was young enough to help find the damnable scalp hunter. He must be crazy to have brought Shoshana back to her roots. And he never should have allowed her to leave the safety of the fort.

Oh, Lord, he thought wearily to himself, who has taken her?

He wondered if it might be an Apache. If so, would she be safe with her own people?

Or was it the scalp hunter? He wasn’t sure which would be better. The Apache or Mountain Jack.

With such thoughts racing inside his head, George decided he must find the strength to climb the mountain. Shoshana came first. If he had to, he would die trying to find and save her.

With his mind made up, George rose and went to sit beside Colonel Hawkins.

“I think we should focus on finding Chief Storm’s stronghold,” George said, bringing the colonel’s eyes quickly to him. “There is a strong possibility that he has her . . . don’t you think?”

“I certainly do not think that Chief Storm has anything to do with this,” Colonel Hawkins said flatly. He accepted his second cup of coffee from a young lieutenant, nodding a silent thanks to him. He took a sip, then glared into George’s eyes. “And I will not search for his stronghold. I am proud to have such a peaceful relationship with the young chief. I don’t want to stir up problems. Must I remind you, George, that my fort is not fortified against attacks?”

“Yes, I realize that,” George grumbled. “And I think the army was insane to build such a fort in Indian country. Not all the Apache practice peace. Most don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Well, George, I can definitely say that we don’t have anything to fear from Chief Storm,” the colonel said, nodding. “Most of the other Apache are on reservations now, and harmless. Those who are not, are walking a straight line, for they know that one wrong move on their part will make them lose their freedom.”

George pushed himself up from the ground.

He placed his hands on his hips and glared down at the colonel. “My daughter has been abducted, and you won’t even listen to reason!” he spat out.

He leaned down closer to the colonel’s face. “I see where this is coming from,” he growled out. “Your reluctance to go up against the young Apache chief proves only one thing to me. You’re scared. You are damn scared. How can such a young chief put fear in the heart of a powerful colonel? It’s true that most Apache are living on reservations. You’re scared of Chief Storm, or he’d have joined the others long ago and you know it.”

Colonel Hawkins moved slowly to his feet. He leaned his face into George’s.

“Get hold of yourself, George. If you want any more cooperation from me and my men, get . . . past . . . this.”

George sighed and, leaning heavily on his cane, limped away from Colonel Hawkins. He knew now that he had no choice but to do as the colonel said. George was only one man, and his damn “invisible” leg was like a huge, throbbing boil.