Chapter Five

All our actions take their hues
From the complexion of the heart,
As landscapes their variety from light.

—Bacon

Blue Thunder rode down a steep slope to where his warriors and Gray Eyes awaited his return from scouting.

Knowing that it would be best for only one man to go spy on the travelers, Blue Thunder had chosen to ride alone to the top of the hill. He was eager to see if they had found Big Nose, and especially to see if he had red-skinned captives with him.

Blue Thunder knew the warriors from Gray Eyes’ village as well as their own chief did because they met in joint council so often.

Blue Thunder was glad that he had not been seen by any of the renegades. He would have the element of surprise on his side when he chose to attack. Only one person had looked up at him, and that had been a white woman.

He had known instantly that she was the only survivor of the recent ambush.

He doubted that she would alert the Comanche renegades about having seen him. Surely she was hoping that he would find a way to help her as well as the other captives.

And . . . he . . . would!

As he rode onward to where his men and Gray Eyes awaited his return in the darkest shadows of a nearby forest, bitterness overwhelmed him.

He would never forget the sight of Gray Eyes’ captured warriors tied in a long line along with the lone white woman.

From his vantage point, on his steed on the hill, he had not been able to pick out Big Nose from the others, but he did know that those were Big Nose’s warriors.

Hatred for the Comanche renegade filled his heart when he had looked more carefully at Gray Eyes’ captured warriors.

Some could barely stand, much less walk. When one fell, another quickly helped him to his feet.

Hardly able to bear the sight, Blue Thunder had quickly shifted his gaze elsewhere, to the one white captive.

After having seen the aftermath of the ambush, and the carnage left behind by the renegades, he wondered how this woman had survived. What made her different from the others who had been left dead along the ground, the women all heartlessly scalped and raped?

He could not seem to tear his thoughts from the surviving white woman. She was a woman with flaming red hair, so tiny and vulnerable; yet she had walked with a lifted, proud chin.

She had not stumbled once while he watched her.

Now, as then, he got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought of what her final fate would be at the hands of the Comanche renegades. She would eventually be passed around to all of the renegades, raped and tortured, and then killed.

His thoughts went suddenly to the white woman who lived in his village. She was a much different sort of woman in appearance from Big Nose’s flame-haired captive. She was big-boned and strong.

Every time Blue Thunder thought about how she happened to live in his village, he could not help smiling, yet, in truth, he wished she was not a part of his people’s lives.

Knowing this was not the time to be thinking about Speckled Fawn, he sank his heels into the flanks of his white steed and rode hard until he finally came to the spot where he had left his warriors and Gray Eyes.

He dismounted and led his horse into the dark shadows of the towering trees. Gray Eyes was waiting there, his expression eager.

“Who were the travelers that we heard?” Gray Eyes asked, his tone filled with anticipation.

Seeing Gray Eyes’ warriors in his mind’s eye again, how exhausted they were, stumbling along as the ropes yanked on them, Blue Thunder was suddenly hesitant to tell his friend what he had seen.

Yet he must, for each moment they waited before they went to rescue the men were moments that might bring death to one or more of them.

They were at the mercy of heartless renegades who murdered for the sheer pleasure of it.

“They were who we thought they might be,” Blue Thunder said thickly. “The renegades have your warriors tied together by ropes. They are being forced to walk to their destination.”

“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.