Doris was pale-faced and shaking with reaction. “Jim,” she whispered. “Oh, it was terrible …”
Sundance already knew that. He had seen what the Nez Percé had done to Drury’s men, of whom, they claimed, none had escaped. All he could say as he held her tightly was, “They had a lot of long overdue debts to pay.”
He looked at the band of spotted horses grazing on the floor of this small, well-hidden canyon in the Bitterroots, to which they had been brought immediately. With them were most of the mounts of Drury’s men, carefully rounded up by the Nez Percé after the battle. It had been important to leave no trace of what had happened. Drury and all his gunmen were buried under tons of rock beneath a cliff where shale and talus had made it easy to start a slide. Carefully, the Indians had cleaned up the battle site. It would be to any investigators as if they had started over the mountains and then had simply vanished from the face of the earth.
Now he and Doris were here beside a smokeless fire with most of the Nez Percé ranged around them, and it was the first chance he and she and Yellow Wolf had had to talk. Sundance released her and fished in the pocket of his pants, bringing out a billfold from which he took a document.
“It’s been rough,” he told her, “but anyhow, it’s all in order now. Here’s a legal bill of sale to me from Drury for the horses. I’ll sign it over to you, and after everybody’s rested, we’ll strike out for Utah.”
“Yes,” she said. “Please. Sign it over to me right away.”
There was so much urgency in her voice that Jim Sundance looked at her curiously. But he had Drury’s pen and ink, and he laid the document on a flat stone and began to write. Presently, he straightened up. “Here it is. Maybe it wouldn’t stand up for an American, but your government will make sure it’s honored.”
“Yes,” she said. “The Queen will see to that. Let me have that pen, please. And is there any more paper?”
Sundance stared.
“I want to write a draft for the other twenty thousand dollars,” she said. “You’ve fulfilled your bargain.”
Sundance gave her paper from Drury’s saddle bags. She wrote carefully and passed it to him. “It will take a few weeks for it to clear New York,” she said, “but the money’s on deposit there. Thank you, Jim.”
Sundance said quietly, “The thanks are due to you. Even if this doesn’t buy Joseph’s way back home, it’ll buy the Nez Percé better land than they’ve got now. At least they’ll survive.” He started to reach for the pen, but she drew it away.
“One moment,” she said. “I’m not through yet.”
She unfolded the bill of sale, and in the last clear space on it, began to write. When she was finished, she waved it to dry it, and then she handed it to Yellow Wolf, who looked at it blankly.
“Tell him, Jim,” she said, “that the Queen will honor it. When he gets the horses back to Canada, no one will take them from him.”
Sundance frowned. “Canada?”
Doris smiled. “Remember? The night before the battle, I talked with Yellow Wolf alone. I told him then that I couldn’t do it.” Her voice faltered. “I simply couldn’t, Jim. These aren’t my horses and they never could be. They could never be anybody’s horses but the Nez Percé’s.”
“I don’t understand,” Sundance said. He looked at the draft.
“Yellow Wolf did. He wanted those horses desperately, but he told me that Joseph wouldn’t allow it. A bargain had been made, and Joseph would insist that it be kept. So would he, because he had given his word. So …” She shrugged. “The bargain’s kept. You’ve delivered the horses and title for them to me, and I’ve chosen to give them to the Nez Percé.” Her voice deepened. “They don’t belong in England, Jim, and they don’t belong in India. They belong here, in the mountains, with the men who bred them. They are ... my memorial to John. He died here for them, and this is where I want him honored and remembered. This way he’ll have more dignity in death than if I had taken them home to be curiosities, just the fruit of a rich man’s whim. John deserved better than that. So do the Nez Percés and so do the spotted horses.”
Sundance looked at her and at the grinning Yellow Wolf, and translated to make sure Yellow Wolf understood, and then he groped for words. All he could find to say was, “I had already judged you as a thoroughbred. I was right.”
She smiled. “In the circles in which I move, that is a high compliment indeed.”
Sundance looked at Yellow Wolf. “You can get the horses to Canada?”
“I’ll get them there,” Yellow Wolf said. “Jim, you come too and bring her with you. She is much woman.”
Doris understood that, and she shook her head. “No. No, we have to go on to Utah.” She paused. “I wish I could stay here. Oh, how I wish it. I would like to go to Canada with the Nez Percé and live there and ... But I told you, Jim. I must go home. I want you, if you will, to take me to Utah where I can take a train.”
“Brigham City,” Sundance said.
“Yes.” Doris paused and her eyes met Sundance’s. “But... I hope it’s not too short a trip.”
Slowly Sundance grinned.
“We can drag it out,” he said.
Doris smiled. “Good. I am in no hurry at all. Absolutely none.”
Yellow Wolf had put the paper in his medicine bag, a sacred place where it would be absolutely safe; he wore it around his neck on a bear claw chain. Now, he said, “Wait a minute.”
Sundance and Doris looked at him as he swung up on his horse. “What—?” she asked.
But Jim Sundance already understood. “You just gave him a present, the greatest one possible. He has to give you something in return.”
They watched as Yellow Wolf rode into the horse herd: When he returned, the stallion Moon Rising, a fine, broad hipped breeding mare, and a filly followed him like trained dogs.
Yellow Wolf drew himself up and gestured toward the three horses. “These three,” he said, “the woman must take to Utah and then across the water. If anyone has questions, you can say they came from Lapwai. It is something you can manage, Sundance.”
“Sure,” Sundance said. “I can manage it.”
Doris’ face lit with delight. “May I?”
“You have to,” Sundance said. “Every time you look at them in England, remember the Nez Percé. Just as, every time one of them sees a spotted stallion, he’ll think of Lady Bucknell.”
“Jim,” she whispered, and she went to Moon Rising and stroked his head. He took it gently, nickering softly.
“Neither the mare nor the filly is Moon Rising’s get,” Yellow Wolf said. “Later, if she wants fresh blood for the line, she can bring it from Lapwai.” Then he whirled his mount and rode back toward the herd.
Doris watched him go. The sun was going down behind the mountains. In its last rays, the spotted, varicolored horses grazing on the canyon floor were as vivid as so many jewels. A mare raised her head and nickered, an Appaloosa stallion whinnied, pawed the earth and neighed,
The sound echoed from hill to hill as Sundance and Doris turned away and went up the canyon to where their robes were spread.