Savage Skies

“Are they well enough, or are there signs they have been mistreated?” Gray Eyes asked, his eyes searching Blue Thunder’s.

“My friend, from that distance it was hard to tell, but from what I could gather, some of your warriors are not well at all,” Blue Thunder replied. “They have surely been beaten by their captors, but be thankful that at least these ones are alive. I would hate to think how many lie dead beside the trail.”

A sudden rage rushed through Gray Eyes. His gaze narrowed and he doubled his hands into tight fists at his sides. “Big Nose will pay for this,” he said tightly.

Then his eyes widened. “You did not say whether or not you saw Big Nose,” he noted. “Was he among those who took my men captive?”

“No, I did not see him,” Blue Thunder answered. “But I did not take the time to fully assess everything. We must act quickly in order to save those men who may not be able to go on much farther.”

“Big Nose must be there, somewhere,” Gray Eyes growled.

He placed a heavy hand on Blue Thunder’s shoulder, then lowered it to his side. “What are we to do?” he asked, his voice filled with a harsh anger, which matched the fury in his eyes.

Blue Thunder motioned with a hand for his warriors to come and stand in a tight circle around him, while their horses munched lazily on grass beneath the trees.

“This is what we should do,” Blue Thunder said, looking from one man to the other. “A group led by you, Gray Eyes, will circle around and come upon the renegades from one side, while another group led by me will attack from the other side. We will quickly pen in the renegades. They will have no choice but to surrender or die.”

Each group was chosen.

The men hurried to their steeds. With Gray Eyes in the lead, his assigned warriors went one way, while Blue Thunder and the warriors following his lead went another.

Blue Thunder rode hard as they made a wide circle until he and his men got so close they must proceed on foot, or the sound of the horses’ hooves would alert the renegades that they were no longer alone.

Each carrying a loaded rifle, the warriors moved stealthily onward on foot, until they could hear the steady thudding of the renegades’ horses’ hooves.

They were so close now they could hear the groaning of those warriors who were in pain, warriors who might not live to see another tomorrow unless they were rescued and taken back to their village shaman.

From his vantage point, Blue Thunder could now see the white woman. She continued to walk courageously onward, her chin still held proudly high.

He had never wondered much about white women, except for the one who lived among his people. White women were a part of the white world, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

But this woman?

She was very different from those he had seen and observed. There was something so sweet and sensitive about her face as he observed her. Yet she was showing her strength and courage as she struggled to survive.

Blue Thunder was glad to be the one who would save her from captivity, for he wanted to know more about what made such a tiny thing as she behave so bravely.

He hoped that she had not witnessed the rapes and murders of the other white women, for that would make her hate and fear all red men, and he did not want her to hate him.

Ho, there was no doubt that he was intrigued by this tiny, flame-haired woman whose spirit surely matched the color of her hair.

Chapter Six

In what distant deeps or skies

Burnt the fire of thine eyes?

—Blake

Moments after circling the Comanche renegades, Blue Thunder shouted out a warning that they were surrounded and to give up their weapons as well as their captives. In the next instant, all hell seemed to break loose.

The renegades were not ready to give up so easily. They stopped and positioned their bows for firing, reaching back to grab arrows from their quivers.

Seeing this, and knowing that the Comanche would fight before giving themselves up, Blue Thunder shouted at the captives and white woman as he raised his rifle for firing. “Lie flat on the ground! Stay out of the line of fire!”

He had no time to see if they heeded his warning, for arrows began flying from the renegades’ bows; the Assiniboine answered with more powerful weapons . . . their rifles.

As Blue Thunder shot first one renegade and then another, he was thankful that it seemed his warriors were more accurate with their shooting than the renegades. Not one of Blue Thunder’s warriors fell from his steed, nor did Blue Thunder or Gray Eyes.