Wild Thunder

Her eyes filled with defiance, Hannah glared moments longer down at the colonel, then gestured with a hand toward one of the braves who wore no shirt. “Wind on Wings, please step forward,” she then said, giving him a soft gaze.

Wide-eyed, his shoulders proudly squared, although he still ached from the recent beating, Wind on Wings came and stood at Hannah’s right side.

She turned to Bird in Ground. “Bird in Ground, please come and also stand beside me,” she murmured, smiling as he came to her left side.

“Colonel Deshong. I have proof here of the recent beatings done at the hands of whites.” Hannah’s eyes locked with the colonel’s. “Each of the braves were accosted. One while on the hunt. The other, while innocently getting honey to take home to his family. Both braves were unmercifully beaten and left to die. But being strong-willed, and strong of heart, they survived.”

She turned to Wind on Wings. She ran a hand over the scars on his chest. “He will be scarred for life,” she said, her voice breaking.

Then she ran her hands over Bird in Ground’s arms and chest, then turned his back toward the colonel. “He will also be scarred for life, not only physically, but mentally as well,” she added solemnly. “I am certain that he is confused by having done nothing to bring on such a beating. He may never understand, except to know not to trust white people ever again, and to hate most of them with a passion.”

“I see the braves, and I find it unfortunate that some misguided men sought to have some fun at their expense,” Patrick replied, nervously drumming his fingers on the top of his desk. “But I see no connection in them and Strong Wolf’s incarceration.”

“Fun?” Hannah inquired, her voice lifting a pitch higher. “You call what those men did to these braves fun? Surely you have chosen the wrong way in which to phrase your feelings.”

“All right,” Colonel Deshong said, sighing heavily. “I didn’t mean to say . . .”

“Colonel, too often apologies come when something more must be done concerning the atrocities against the Potawatomis,” Hannah stated, placing her hands on her hips. She swallowed hard. “Do you recall, sir, that only yesterday Strong Wolf brought you more meat for your dinner tables?”

“Yes, and I am grateful,” he admitted awkwardly. “But still . . .”

Hannah interrupted him again. “Do you recall, sir, that while Strong Wolf was on the hunt for your men, some white men came and ambushed them, killing one of his most valiant warriors?”

“Yes, I am aware, but . . .” he mumbled, Hannah again interrupting.

“Sir, since nothing is ever done against those who take advantage of the Potawatomis, and Strong Wolf knew who was responsible at least for the killing, he took it upon himself to avenge the life of his loved one,” she continued, her voice shaking with emotion. “While he raided the ranch, he killed no one. He only destroyed a bunkhouse and set some horses free. Now, I ask you, sir, had it been you who were ambushed by Indians, and your men were slaughtered by them, would you just go and burn a lodge and set animals free, or would you command your soldiers to go and kill and maim the Indians who were responsible?”

“I . . .” Patrick started to say.

But Hannah still was not ready to let him say his piece. As long as he would tolerate her standing there, in defense of the Potawatomis, she would.

“Sir, did you not also accuse Strong Wolf of killing Claude Odum and setting fire to his cabin?” she inquired, her eyes narrowing when his eyes took on an uneasiness as they wavered.

“Strong Wolf had already burned one building, who was to say whether or not he set the other fire in his frenzied anger over the killing of his warrior?” Patrick protested quickly, before she interrupted him again.

“Haven’t you seen the kinship between Claude and Strong Wolf?” Hannah pleaded, her voice softening. “Didn’t you know just how much they admired one another?”

“Yes, but when someone gets angry, all reason can slip from their mind,” Colonel Deshong countered, placing his fingertips together before him. “Hannah, now is that all? I’ve things to do besides listen to your ramblings.”

“Haven’t I made any sense at all to you?” Hannah argued, her voice breaking when she felt that she might lose the battle for Strong Wolf’s release. “You have been a friend with Strong Wolf since he arrived at the Kansas Territory. How could you not understand him better than this? You know that he is a man of peace. Last night, when he avenged the death of his warrior, he could have wreaked havoc along the countryside. Yet, he chose a more peaceful way to make his point. You should commend him for saving lives, not condemn him for the little thing that he did.”

She turned to Proud Heart. “Proud Heart, please bring the bag forth,” she said, reaching a hand out for the bag.

When he gave it to her, she turned toward Patrick again. She gently placed the buckskin bag on his desk in front of him. “Please look at what’s inside the bag.”

“Hannah, I . . .” Colonel Deshong was again interrupted by her.

“Sir, you have arrested Strong Wolf for the death of Claude Odum,” Hannah blurted. “Please see what is inside the bag. After seeing the gifts of friendship from Claude to Strong Wolf, can you honestly say that Strong Wolf could have killed this man?”

Sighing, Patrick slipped a hand inside the bag. First he pulled out the pipe: a peace pipe. Then he pulled out the wampum.

He placed them before him and stared at them, tears filling his eyes as he recalled the very moments these gifts were given to Strong Wolf. He was at Strong Wolf’s village with Claude when the Indian agent had presented the gifts to Strong Wolf.

In return, Strong Wolf had given Claude a thick bearskin robe, and then had turned to Patrick with the same sort of skin, except that his was made of perfectly white rabbit pelts.

That day, everyone’s friendship had been strengthened. And no, he did not see how things could have changed between Claude and Strong Wolf.

No, in truth, he could not see how Strong Wolf could