Chapter 19

Grant stared at the ground beside the river, searching for any clues in the early morning light that might reveal the path taken by Flies Ahead and his men. The gentle rustle of flowing water belied the urgency in his heart.

He and White Horse had hunted for several hours in the night, moving impossibly slow so they didn't miss anything in the near-moonless night. He'd slept little, lying on a single blanket and straining for any sound, doing his best not to wonder where Faith was every moment. Was she frightened? Hurt? Did she have a comfortable place to sleep? Most likely not.

"Here."

He honed his focus to where White Horse pointed to a patch of ground near the water's edge. "See how dirt is loose? They cover tracks."

Grant crouched, running his fingers over the subtle indentions in the muddy soil. Then he lifted his gaze to search for the next steps.

At first, he could see nothing similar to this brushed ground. But ... were those leaves turned with the darker sides up? It was hard to tell in the dim light, especially since a night had passed, bringing with it the dampness of morning.

White Horse had moved ahead, and now pointed to another place where the edge of a hoofprint was barely discernible. Grant straightened and stepped quicker to catch up with him as they led their horses. The trail was so faint, he couldn't be certain this truly was the way Flies Ahead had gone.

But White Horse seemed sure. Or at least he didn't voice his questions aloud.

God, let him be right. Show us the way. Maybe he was a hypocrite for pleading for help when he'd blamed God for this whole disaster just last night.

But if there was a chance God would help them, the Almighty who created the earth knew where Faith and Steps Right were right now. Help us reach them in time to stop any harm. He hadn't been able to bring himself to ask White Horse what the warriors would do to the women.

But he needed to know where the man suspected Flies Ahead would be taking them. When White Horse motioned to another patch of brushed ground, Grant took the chance to ask him. "They spent time covering their tracks. Where do you think they're going?"

White Horse lifted his gaze to the mountains not far ahead of them. So far, they'd had to maneuver rocky terrain since the river. But soon the terrain would turn to boulder-strewn slopes. How much harder would it be to find Flies Ahead's tracks then?

"He may wish to take my mother back to the village. To make her stand before the council so her punishment can be changed." His jaw hardened. "She has already done this once. They made her leave her home and the people who are her family. But this not enough for the son with vengeance in his heart."

Flies Ahead was bent on retribution for the death of his father. If he killed White Horse's mother, would White Horse then set out on that same quest? When would the bloodshed end?

The oppressive weight of it all sank over him. Such a vendetta might not end until it took every last person dear to both families.

Unless someone chose to forgive.

White Horse had continued on, pointing to each track as he passed it, which left Grant mired in this painful question. If any man had the strength and integrity to forgive such an atrocity, White Horse just might be able. But would he be willing?

If an enemy hunted down and killed Will—Grant's last blood relative—would he be able to let it go without retaliation? Probably not. And Faith . . . He'd been trying not to let his mind consider her. But if they found both women dead...

Fury surged through him, lengthening his stride and making his breath come hard.

He clenched his jaw. Little by little, she'd seeped into his life. So much that the thought of her not being there in his future ... A life like that looked far too dark to contemplate.

Faith had become light and hope in his life. She'd taught him what it meant to be strong, to fulfill a promise no matter what the risk. And she'd done it all with a smile that radiated warmth to his deepest core.

No matter what, he couldn't let Flies Ahead snuff out that light. He couldn't—he wouldn't—let Faith down.

But even with that determination, he had a feeling it might take a Power greater than what he and White Horse both possessed to rescue the women unharmed.

Faith studied the three braves across the camp, straining to make out anything in their Peigan tongue. Flies Ahead stood tall in front of the other two, his back to Faith, fists clenched at his sides. Though their voices were loud and heated, they spoke too quickly for her to pick out any of the words White Horse had taught her.

She glanced over at Steps Right, who sat quietly, head resting against the tree she was tied to. She must be as uncomfortable as Faith. More so, for she had the swollen ankle that must pain her.

But the older woman's face was a calm mask, betraying little emotion as she listened to the exchange. Only the subtle tightness around her eyes and the slight downturn of her mouth hinted at concern.

"Misstapok'a!" Flies Ahead spat, the command cutting through the air. His men fell silent, watching him as though waiting for his next command. "Nitakit!"Flies Ahead flapped his hand in a shooing motion, and one of the men—the one who'd attacked her and had been gone all night—turned and sprinted into the trees.

Faith's pulse quickened as Flies Ahead turned toward them, his cold gaze locking on Steps Right first, then flicking to her. He started toward them, and she fought to keep her shiver from showing. She couldn't let him know how afraid she was.

When the third man showed up that morning, she'd half expected them to pack up camp and hoist her and Steps Right back on the horses with them. Since they'd not been killed yet, surely Flies Ahead planned to take them back to his village.

But they still sat here, tied to these trees. What else could he be waiting for? More men to return from errands he'd sent them on?

Flies Ahead stopped three strides from them, the perfect position to look down on her and Steps Right without shifting his gaze.

The perfect position for her to see the hatred darkening his eyes.

He snarled, spitting out his words. "White Horse not save you."

Though Steps Right didn't make a sound, Faith could feel her tension even without looking at her. She didn't dare take her focus off the fierce warrior.

"Hear now." Flies Ahead's tone dropped to an icy pitch. "I kill." He pointed from Steps Right to Faith. "Slow. Much hurt." Then his gaze locked on Steps Right again. "Your son and white man watch."

White man?Faith's entire body froze, her lungs refusing to draw breath. Grant? Had he returned with Will already? That seemed unlikely. He would have found his brother after dark last night. But since Will knew Steps Right, maybe he'd agreed to set out first thing this morning. Still, it didn't seem possible Grant could have brought his brother back so quickly.

Oh, God, help us get out of this mess without anyone getting hurt. Not White Horse or Grant. And definitely not Steps Right.

Flies Ahead glared at her, as though he'd listened to her thoughts, or maybe he saw the confusion on her face. "Punish white man for taking hunt from Flies Ahead's gun."

Taking hunt from Flies Ahead's gun? Her head ached too much to decipher his meaning, especially with the broken English. Then a memory slipped in. Back when she and Grant had still been traveling with Parson's group, she had helped Grant smoke a side of elk meat. He'd said he found the animal already killed. That the hunter had abandoned the kill. Or maybe the elk hadn't died right away but wandered a while and the shooter hadn't been able to find it.

She cleared her throat. "You shot the bull elk? Grant waited for the hunter to come."

Hatred darkened the man's gaze. "No man takes from Flies Ahead." He flicked a gaze over his shoulder, then turned back to her. "Three times I send man to punish him. Now I make suffer."

She stared at him. "You attacked Grant before? You followed us?"

He jerked his head toward the other man. "Crooked Knife. He run. Bring dishonor on his father's lodge."

All the times strange things had happened . . . those had been Flies Ahead's doing?

He raised his chin, the act making him look even more like a chief than before. "We go to rendezvous for trade. White man steal elk. Follow to make pay." A light flickered in his eyes. "We see son of Steps Right. The gods smile on Flies Ahead. Lead us to the one who kills the father of Flies Ahead."

He turned his focus to Steps Right, then spat on the ground at her feet. "Your son watch you suffer as I watch my father. He see your body when spirit no more." His jaw flexed. "Then I kill him. I will bring honor on the lodge of my father once more."

He spat again, this time on the hem of Steps Right's dress.

Faith had to work to keep from venting her anger on the man. How dare he insult a woman, especially an elder, in such a way? But she made herself sit still. Any movement, any fight against her ropes or his goading would only please him.

He wouldn't win. She couldn't let him.

Finally, the man turned and strode to the far corner of the camp to stare through the pine trunks at the valley below. Watching for White Horse and Grant, no doubt.

She slid a look at Steps Right. They still hadn't dared to speak to each other, but she needed to know if Steps Right was injured more than before. If at all possible, she had to find a way of escape before White Horse and Grant arrived. Maybe now, while there were only two men and they weren't fully focused on her and Steps Right.

She kept her voice in her quietest whisper. "Can you walk?"

Steps Right didn't look at her, just let her unfocused gaze wander beyond the camp. But she gave a tiny dip of her chin.

Good.

Now she had to figure out how to get them untied.

Did they have anything sharp? She certainly didn't. If Steps Right possessed such a tool, she would have already used it, or at least mentioned she had something.

The tree Faith was tied to had smooth bark, so it might take a day to scrape through her binding by rubbing the cord against the trunk. She would be willing to try it, though.

She slid her wrists up and down behind her. Pain shot through her upper arms at the awkward angle. Worse than that, she had to lean forward with each movement, making her actions far too obvious. Moving her wrists side to side was nearly as bad.

If she could get near fire, she could burn the rope. But that was impossible with her hands tied behind the tree.

She would have to find a person to set them free. She glanced at the second brave, Crooked Knife, the one who'd first spoken to them behind the waterfall. He hadn't come over to them but once, when he brought a cup of water for them each to take a sip from.

He was a little shorter than Flies Ahead but had thicker shoulders. That was probably how he'd managed to carry Steps Right's heavier body. Hopefully he had carried her, not made her walk on her bad ankle. How much worse had the struggle injured her?

If she helped him understand how injured Steps Right was, would he take pity on them and help them escape? Not likely. Especially since he was the one who took them captive in the first place. At Flies Ahead's orders, of course. They would find no ally in either man.

Could Flies Ahead be reasoned with? Did he possess a scrap of mercy? Maybe if she helped him see how killing them in cold blood would be so much worse than his father dying of an illness.

A look at the man's hard profile—jaw set and fists clenched at his sides as he stood watch—made it seem so unlikely.

God, what can I do? She'd been praying all day, but she couldn't tell if the Lord heard her. Please, show me what to do.

Not you but Me.

The idea slipped in so quietly, yet it staked a solid claim in her mind. Is that you, Lord? For so long, she'd wanted a real answer from God when she prayed. Something that she could see or feel and know for certain was Him communicating.

She'd never expected His voice to come as such a quiet thought. How many times before had He answered her in this way but she'd missed it?

Not you but Me.

So she shouldn't try for an escape? She should just sit here, tied to this tree in the hot sun, and wait? Thirst was already making her head ache, even more than the low pounding from her injury.

She slid a glance at Steps Right. It was one thing to risk her own life on whether these quiet words were from God, and if they were, whether He would actually carry out the answer He promised.

Steps Right must have felt her gaze, for she turned her head just enough for their gazes to meet. Her aged voice quavered in a half whisper as she spoke. "Pray. We pray."

It sounded like Steps Right was willing to wait on God for deliverance too. Faith dipped a nod. Interesting that the woman would say those words—the only thing she'd spoken since their capture—at that very moment Faith had been questioning God.

How many other times in her life had she received direction from God, and simply hadn't recognized it? And then she'd blamed Him in her heart for not answering—every time.

Guilt pressed through her, and she squeezed her eyes shut against it. I'm sorry, Lord. Forgive me for being headstrong and untrusting. I'm leaving this to you now, as you said. I pray my obedience hasn't come too late.