"Yes."
"You don't mean to try and break him out, do you?"
Shadow did not answer for a long moment, and then he said, "Our people die if they are confined in prison for a long time. We were not meant to live inside four walls, but to live wild and free. It is better for a warrior to be dead than in prison. I will not let Hawk die a little bit each day."
"Shadow . . ."
"I have been in prison, Hannah," he said, his voice bitter with the memory. "I will not let that happen to Hawk. We will wait and see what kind of justice the white man has for an Indian."
"And if a jury finds Hawk guilty?"
"Then I will do what must be done."
I didn't argue. I knew that Shadow would do what he had to do, and nothing I could say would stop him. Jenny Lee had said there were many people on the street who had seen the fight between Hawk and the stranger. Surely someone had seen Lyman Carter reach for his gun. Surely that someone would come forward at the trial, if not before.
Dr. Henderson smiled as he ushered us down a whitewashed hallway to a small green room. Victoria was in bed, her face pale. There were dark smudges under her eyes.
"Don't stay too long," the doctor cautioned. "She needs her rest."
"Will she be all right?" I asked.
Dr. Henderson nodded confidently. "To be sure, to be sure. She's young and healthy. A few days of complete bed rest and she'll be back on her feet."
I nodded, and the doctor left the room, closing the door behind him.
"Vickie?"
Her eyelids fluttered open and I could see she had been crying.
"How are you feeling, Victoria?" I asked.
"Empty," she said. "How's Hawk? Have you seen him?"
"Yes. He's fine. He sends his love."
"I lost the baby," she said, and two large tears welled in her eyes. "Oh, Hannah, it was awful! I've never seen Hawk so angry, and then he killed that man and there was blood everywhere."
She was sobbing now, reliving the horror of the moment. I started toward her, but Shadow reached her side first. Bending, he took Vickie in his arms and held her while she cried.
"Do not think about it," Shadow said, his voice soft and soothing. "It is over now. Everything will be all right."
"How can it be?" Victoria cried, her blue eyes frantic with worry. "Jenny Lee said they're going to hang Hawk for killing that awful man. What am I going to do?"
"Nothing," Shadow said. "You are going to stay in bed for as long as the doctor says. Then you are going home to take care of your sons. They will not hang Hawk."
Victoria blinked back her tears, her eyes intent on Shadow's face.
"They will not hang him," Shadow said again. "You must trust me and do as I say."
Victoria nodded. She had always admired and respected Shadow, and if he said everything would be all right, then everything would be all right.
Slowly, Shadow lowered her back onto the bed. "Sleep now. We will be back to see you tomorrow."
Like an obedient child, Victoria closed her eyes. Shadow took my hand and we left the room.
"Shadow, I'm afraid."
"Have I ever failed you before?"
"No."
"I will not fail you now. Do not worry, Hannah."
I nodded. I, too, admired and respected Shadow. He always knew what to do and how to do it.
We stopped at the jail to tell Hawk that Vickie was doing fine and that the doctor said there was nothing to be concerned about.
"Do not do anything foolish," Shadow warned Hawk as we prepared to leave. "I will take care of everything."
Hawk grinned wryly. "Do you read my mind, neyho?"
"No. But I remember the thoughts that went through my mind when I was in the stockade at Fort Apache. I remember thinking that I would do anything to get out. I see that same desperation in your eyes now. And I tell you again, do not do anything foolish."
"I understand, neyho."
"Good. I will send Blackie over to your place to look after your stock until you are home again."
"Tell him to keep an eye on the wall-eyed mare. She is due to foal soon, and she usually needs help."
Shadow nodded. "We will see you again tomorrow."
"Can I bring you anything?" I asked.
"A change of clothing," Hawk said, glancing at his blood-stained shirt. "And one of your apple pies."
"You'll have them," I promised.
It was hard, leaving my son in jail. I knew how he must hate being locked up, how desperately he needed to see Victoria, to know for himself that she was going to be all right. I prayed that he would listen to Shadow and not do anything foolish. To try to escape would only make him look guilty.
When we got home, Shadow sent Blackie over to stay at Hawk's place. Blackie was ecstatic at the thought of helping the mares foal, though he was less enthusiastic about staying in the house with Lydia.
Our place seemed very empty with Blackie gone, and I thought how sad it was that my children had to grow up and leave home. When they were young, I had thought they would always be there. Now Hawk and Mary had homes of their own, and soon Blackie would be grown and gone as well.
I glanced at Shadow. He was sitting on the edge of the hearth mending a bridle. The lamplight cast his profile in bronze, and I marveled at how handsome he was, this man who was my whole life.
A little fear began to niggle at the back of my mind as I thought about Shadow's promise to Hawk. I knew that Shadow would not let them hang our son, nor would he let Hawk languish in prison. Closing my eyes, I sent an urgent prayer to God and Maheo, begging them for help. Our lives would be turned upside down if Shadow were forced to break Hawk out of jail. My husband and my son would be fugitives, and our lives in Bear Valley would be over. What would I do then? Where would we go?
I remembered how it had been when Shadow and I were being hunted by the soldiers after Little Big Horn, how awful it had been to be constantly running and hiding, always afraid, always tired and hungry. I did not want to live like that again, and even as I thought about it, I knew it was impossible. I could not drag Blackie across the countryside, running and hiding. I could not endanger my youngest son's life. And what of Victoria? She was too fragile to endure such a life. Not only that, she had two young sons to consider.
I had been mending one of Shadow's shirts, and now I laid it aside and went to kneel beside him.
"Oh, Shadow," I murmured.
"I know," he said quietly. Laying the bridle on the floor, he stroked my hair. I loved the touch of his hand, and I closed my eyes as I rested my head in his lap. We sat there for a long time, content to be quietly close, both wondering what the outcome of the trial would be and how it would affect our lives in Bear Valley.
"Long life and happiness," Shadow said after a while. "That was what the hawks promised. Remember?"
"I remember."
"Tomorrow I am going into the hills. I will be gone most of the day."
"What about Hawk?"
"Tell him I will see him sometime tomorrow."
7
He rose just before dawn. Slipping out of bed, he pulled on an old pair of buckskin trousers and a pair of moccasins and padded noiselessly out of the bedroom, through the dark house, and out the front door. At the corral, he threw a bridle over Smoke's head, swung aboard the stallion's bare back, and headed for the hills.
As he rode eastward, the sun climbed above the horizon, splashing the sky with an ever-changing palette of colors: gray to lavendar, pink to rose, each color growing brighter until the whole sky seemed to be on fire with the birth of a new day.
Shadow rode at an easy, ground-covering lope, enjoying the feel of the wind in his face, the movement of the horse beneath him, the fragrance of earth and grass that filled his nostrils.
Reaching the hills some time later, Shadow urged the stallion up the steep slope until he came to a place where the ground leveled out. Reining Smoke to a halt, he dismounted.
For a long moment he stood sta
ring into the distance, remembering days long past. Gazing down the corridors of time, he saw Hannah as she had been as a young girl. She was there at Rabbit's Head Rock that sunny day they had first met, a skinny little girl with flaming red hair and expressive gray eyes, a handful of wildflowers clutched in her hands. He saw himself as a young boy, lonely for a mother's love and attention. It had been Hannah's mother, as much as Hannah herself, who had drawn him to the Kincaid house time and again. There was a feeling of love there, a sense of warmth and belonging, and he had soaked it up. It had been Hannah's mother, Mary, who had taught him to read and write the white man's language. She had been a wise woman, knowing that, while it was all right to teach him some things, it was best not to try to make a white man out of him.
Turning his gaze to the east, Shadow thought of his father, Black Owl, and of the other men in the tribe who had taught him the ways of a warrior. He thought of Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull and all the other great chiefs he had known: Gall, American Horse, Hump, Red Cloud. He thought of his best friend, Calf Running, who had been gunned down by a soldier; of Clyde Stewart and Barney McCall and the endless days he had spent as a sideshow attraction in a traveling tent show. And then he thought of his children, of helping Hannah bring Mary and Blackie into the world, of the Sun Dance he had shared with Hawk.
He recalled the battles he had been in, the men he had killed, and then he thought again of Hannah, always Hannah. She was his strength, woven tightly into the fabric of his life.
Abruptly he raised his arms toward heaven. ''Hear me, Man Above," he prayed in a loud voice. "Give me strength and wisdom that I might be worthy of my woman, that I might find a way to help my son."
Drawing a small pouch from the waistband of his trousers, he poured a generous amount of tobacco into the palm of his hand, then sprinkled it to the four directions.
"Hear me, Man Above," he cried. "I have need of your help."
He stood there for over an hour, his arms upraised, his face turned toward the sun, his heart pouring out a prayer to Maheo.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, and sweat trickled down Shadow's arms and back and chest, and still he stood there, unmoving, his whole being focused on that which he desired.
Another hour passed, two, and he dropped to his knees, unmindful of the heat or the gnawing hunger in his belly.
The fourth hour came and went and still he did not move, only knelt there, his lips moving in prayer.
It was late in the afternoon when he heard a great rushing of mighty wings. Hardly daring to hope, he turned his head to the left and let out a long sigh as two red-tailed hawks appeared in the sky, wheeling and diving in perfect unison until they hovered above his head.
"Be strong," the male hawk cried in a loud voice. "Be strong, and you will prevail over your enemies."
"Be brave," the female cried in a loud voice. "Be brave, and you will have nothing to fear."
Another rush of wings, and they were gone.
Utterly fatigued, Shadow slumped to the ground, his heart at peace.
He remained there for thirty minutes, his eyes closed, and then he mounted Smoke and rode down the hill toward town, and Hawk.
8
Shadow was gone when I woke up. Rising, I dressed quickly and went into the kitchen. After drinking a cup of hot chocolate, I began to make the pie I had promised Hawk.
While it baked, I tidied up the house, my eyes wandering to the front window several times in hopes of seeing Shadow. Where had he gone? Knowing him as I did, I was certain he had gone off alone to seek guidance from Man Above.
It was just after noon when I went into town. Hawk was pacing back and forth when I entered the cellblock, and my heart welled with sympathy for my son. I remembered the time I had visited Shadow in the stockade at Fort Apache in Arizona Territory. Conditions there had been much worse than those Hawk found himself in now, but Hawk's eyes reflected the same quiet desperation I had once seen in Shadow's.
"I brought the pie," I said, forcing a note of cheer into my voice, "and a change of clothing."
Hawk nodded. "Have you heard anything?"
"The trial is set for Friday. It's only three days," I said. "That's not so long."
Hawk swore under his breath. "Every day behind these bars is like a year," he exclaimed angrily.
"I know." I slipped his clean clothes through the bars, and then the pie. "There's a cloth and a bar of soap wrapped inside your shirt."
"Thank you, nahkoa. I did not mean to shout at you."
"It's all right."
I spent an hour with Hawk. We didn't talk much. He asked about the twins and I told him that Lydia was staying with them, and that Blackie was looking after the stock. The mare hadn't foaled yet.
Leaving the jail, I went to visit Victoria. She was looking a little better, though her eyes were haunted and sad. I stayed with her until she fell asleep, and then I drove over to Pa's place.
Rebecca had persuaded Pa to go back East to visit Beth, but they had postponed their trip, neither of them wanting to leave until after Hawk's trial.
Pa ranted and raved about the injustice of it all. Arresting a man for protecting his wife. Who'd ever heard of such a thing?
It was a delight to see Pa's temper flare, I mused with a grin. He was a sight to behold when he was riled. As a girl, I had always said his temper matched the red in his moustache, and though his moustache was all gray now, his temper hadn't cooled a bit.
Rebecca let him carry on for several minutes, and then she laid her hand on his arm.
"Sam, that's enough," she said quietly, and Pa's tirade came to an abrupt halt. "Hannah, is there anything we can do?"
"No. Judge Roberts is hearing the case, and Whitley Monroe has been appointed to defend Hawk."
"Roberts!" Pa flared. "Clive Roberts is an Indian hater from way back, and that limp wrist Whitley Monroe won't lift a finger in Hawk's behalf."
"I know," I agreed morosely. "But what can we do? Shadow asked Judge Roberts for a postponement until we can get another lawyer, but he refused. The trial is set for this Friday."
"Damn," Pa muttered. "I wish we had time to get ahold of Ethan Smythe. I hear he's made himself quite a reputation as a defense lawyer back in St. Louie."
"So I've heard," I said. "But there isn't time." I chewed on my lower lip for a moment. "Pa . . ."
"I'm listening."
"I'm worried. Shadow promised Hawk that he wouldn't hang or go to jail."
Pa frowned. "What are you saying, girl?"
"Just what you think I am. If the jury finds Hawk guilty, Shadow's going to break him out of jail."
"Oh, no!" Rebecca gasped. "Hannah, you mustn't let him do such a thing."
I uttered a short laugh. "Me, stop Shadow? You know that's impossible."
Rebecca nodded. "I know. Once he puts his mind to something, he does it."
"There'll be hell to pay if Shadow crosses the law," Pa mused aloud. "Does he understand that?"
"Of course he understands, but he doesn't care. He made hawk a promise, and he'll keep it or die trying."
It was dark when I got home. Worried and lonely, I paced the parlor floor, my ears listening for Shadow's footsteps. Ten times in as many minutes I went to the window and looked out, but saw only darkness.
Too upset to eat, I drank several cups of lukewarm coffee, then sank down in a corner of the couch, staring into the fireplace.
I had almost dozed off when I heard Shadow's step in the hall. Rising, I flew into his arms, lifting my face for his kiss. He was here. He was safe. For now, nothing else mattered.
I sought comfort in his arms that night, needing to feel his strength, not only physically but spiritually. I knew he had gone to commune with Maheo that afternoon and though he had not yet told me what had happened, I sensed that something significant had transpired between Shadow and his special spirits, the hawks.
Shadow made love to me tenderly that night. It was not passion that forged us together, not desire, but need. I
found strength in his nearness, a sense of renewal and rebirth. Hawk had been born out of our love, and that same love would see us through the trying days ahead.
Later, our bodies still united, Shadow told me of his trip to the hills, of the thoughts that had drifted down the corridors of his mind, of the heat and the hunger, and of the hawks. I marveled at what he told me. Always, the hawks had been there when he needed them most, and I listened in awe as he related their words.
I was nearly asleep when I felt Shadow's lips brush my cheek, and far off in the distance I thought I heard the shrill cry of a red-tailed hawk calling for its mate.
9
Sheriff Bill Lancaster grinned wolfishly as he slid the breakfast tray under the bars.
"Two more days, redskin," he drawled. "Two more days and you'll be hanging higher than Haman."
Hawk stood near the cell door, his eyes filling with anger as the lawman continued to taunt him.
"Yep," Lancaster went on cheerfully, "just two more days and you'll get a taste of the white man's justice. They'll drop that rope around your neck, snug the knot under your ear, pull it tight, and let 'er rip. Probably break your neck nice and clean. Then again, it might not. Might be you'll kick and choke a minute or two before you finally strangle to death." Lancaster nodded. "I reckon everybody in town will turn out for the show. Maybe even that pretty little wife of yours."
Hawk clenched his fists at his sides as the sheriff mentioned Victoria. His whole body grew tense as the urge to kill swept over him.
"Yeah," Lancaster went on, "she's a pretty little thing. Who knows, I might even court her myself. Once you're out of the way, she'll need a man to look after her. It would surely pleasure me to show her what it's like to have a real man in her bed instead of a lousy stinking savage."
Rage drove all else from Hawk's mind as Lancaster spoke of bedding Victoria. With a wild cry, he lunged at the lawman, his right arm snaking through the bars to close around Lancaster's throat.
Bill Lancaster struggled violently, his hand groping for the gun holstered on his right hip. As the world began to go black, he drew the gun and fired.
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