Elam moved along the river’s edge, staying out of the moonlight as much as possible, occasionally stopping to listen to the sounds of the night. Long before daylight, he found himself at the spot where he had seen the wagon train. Nothing remained. There was no evidence that they had detected his presence the day he had buried the dead.
Recent rains removed all traces of the wagons except for a half-burned wagon wheel lodged in the roots of a large tree. A few miles later, Elam stood in the shadows. He looked across the prairie at the distant campfires and marveled at the number and size of the camp.
On the high ground along the river’s edge, he spotted piles and piles of canoes. Elam worked swiftly, picking out a well-built one that looked to be fast. There were no oars around. Without good oars he and the children’s ma would be at the mercy of the river’s current and unable to guide the craft. Launching the canoe, Elam paddled downriver steering with his hands. In a wide spot where the water was shoulder deep and not so swift, he sunk it and weighed it down with stones from the shore just in case he needed it.
Trying to escape downriver may not be a good idea, and without oars, the Indians could get downriver ahead of him. Continuing, Elam made his way back to the hide racks and made a quick search of the area, making sure he knew every inch of ground. Several short pieces of rawhide lay around on the ground and he picked them up, stashing them in his pocket.
Standing among the racks, he looked around in the moonlight. On the far bank, he found a rise of land with a cluster of large trees. There was a tree higher than all the rest with plenty of foliage, which gave him the best place to observe the Indian village and the racks where the squaws stretched the hides.
Quickly he pulled another canoe down to the river’s edge. He filled it with rocks sinking it in the deep water below the overhang where he had hidden before. Next, he tied sticks together with rawhide strips. After hiding them in the reeds along the river’s edge, he headed for the tree.
It only took him a short time to scale the massive tree and find a well-hidden branch on which to observe the countryside. With his field-glass, he studied the dark silhouettes of the tents in the distance. Smoke curled from hundreds of campfires as shadows moved around the camp.
The day would start soon in the village. It would not be long until an alarm would go out about the chief's missing son. Elam hoped to see large bands of Indians leave camp headed out to search for the missing brave. They would find the warrior’s trail and follow him out on the prairie away from Elam’s southern route. Hopefully, the search would take the focus off the white captive for a while.
Slowly pre-dawn darkened and overshadowed the valley, and for a while, there was no visibility across the river. Elam repositioned himself and laid his head on his forearms and rested from the tension that had been building for the last few hours.
‘What wuz she like?’ he thought as his mind instinctively monitored every sound that came to him. He had not heard anything about a husband. Frankly, Elam hadn’t thought to ask if he was with them during the wagon train attack. Danny had said her name was Tillie.
Elam’s body lay stretched out on a wide limb far above the valley floor. For a long time, he lay with his chin resting on his forearms, peering straight down a branch fork at the ground below. Instinctively an uncomfortable feeling came over him and he moved his eyes from shadow to shadow below. Beneath him something shifted, then for a long time, there was no movement. Slowly, he began to see the outline of an Indian standing among the trees. Elam knew the Indian below did not realize he lay a hundred feet above him.
Early morning light came and he eased his head up to see the activity in the camp while watching the brave. Below him, the Indian laid his spear down and stepped off in the cold mountain stream, speaking to himself in his native tongue, cursing the cold water. Elam closed his red-rimmed eyes and thought, ‘I have been a few places in my life that I didn’t want to be, but this tops the list. Today, I hope with the help of the Almighty to rectify an injustice the devil has done. I might die in the process, but for the children's sake, Lord help me give these children back thar ma.’
Well concealed and knowing where the Indian below him was, Elam lifted the field-glass again to his eyes. This time the camp was a busy place. The Indians had lit torches and a crowd had gathered in front of a large tent. A serious parlay was taking place. Elam wondered why this brave below him was not in the camp involved in the discussion and thought, ‘Why did this brave have to pick this day to take his Saturday bath.’
Changing positions to relieve the pain from a limb poking him in his side, Elam watched as the early morning light glistened on the bare skin of the Indian below. It was light enough now to see the brave wore a holster and pistol, plus a coiled whip around his body. Recognition came to Elam. This Indian was the one that stood across the stream from him the first time he had been here. He remembered his fierce look and the paint-stained body. The Indian removed his pistol and the whip and lay down in the cold water.
Scanning the camp once again, Elam noticed the activity had increased. It was light enough now to make out the women from the men. Indians moved with purpose. Some moved towards the high grass where they had hobbled the horses and some to their tepees. It wasn’t long until several groups of mounted Indians left the camp in different directions, including the one direction he had hoped they would not travel--south along the river. They didn’t have any idea as to which direction the missing Indian had gone hunting. ‘This was not good,’ Elam thought. Not only would they block his intended route, but they would cross the path that Nolan and the children had taken. By now, Elam hoped they would have a big enough lead that would take them out of harm’s way and that was one less worry.
The sun was coming up and the position he had in the tree gave him a good view of the village. Scanning the landscape, Elam looked at every inch of ground around the camp, yet he saw no sign of a white woman. That worried him that he might have been too late. He had not heard a dog bark and that was good for him. A dog would see him before anyone else. However, in this village, a dog was eaten as fast as a deer.
The village was in the middle of the valley situated on a level plateau. A sharp drop off down to the river started below the camp and ended just before the river. Elam noticed a gully with a small stream that ran through the center of the camp from an underground source. The only way he could get closer to the camp was via the gully and it was not deep enough to hide a man except maybe at night.
Looking down, Elam noticed the brave had waded across the river and now stood looking at the camp. He was waiting for someone. What Elam didn’t want to observe was a long, drawn-out day with this Indian and his girlfriend. He redirected his field-glass back to the camp and scanned it again for the blond-headed woman who might already be dead.
The Indian below him paced along the riverbank, looking in the direction of the camp. Elam hoped he would not have to deal with this Indian. If his gal friend would hurry up and come, maybe they would leave together.
In the center of the camp was a bunch of rocks piled high. Children ran around it, picking up stones and throwing them onto the pile. Soon they grew tired of that and walked single file up the gully headed for the forest behind the camp. Passing his field-glass around the camp one more time, he suddenly stopped and retraced his field-glass to the rock pile. There was a hand extending up from the other side of the rock pile connected to a white arm.
Suddenly he was tense and he adjusted the binoculars to get a close up of the hand and arm. There were leather ties wrapped around the arm and extended over the rock pile. He followed the cords to a stake in the ground. Elam realized staked across the rock pile was Danny and Mary’s mother. The Indian children had been throwing rocks at her!
For an hour, nothing happened as he monitored the camp and the Indian below him. He watched the pile unable to see anything but the hand occasionally rising and falling back out of sight. Surely, she would not make it through the day. He must do something, but what?
Exasperated, he had no plan on what to do next. He had hoped that she would be detailed to clean hides again. Laying the binoculars down, Elam rubbed his eyes and prayed.
‘Lord, I am helpless to do anythin’ for her, but you can. I don’t even know how to pray, but the kids are a-prayin’ lot. Remember their prayers for their mother and use me to help her.’ Elam raised his head and looked into the camp again. Immediately he was alert! She was standing before the pile with several Indian women were standing around her. The sight of her took Elam’s breath away. She was cut and bruised but standing. She was a natural beauty and Elam was mesmerized by her. Her overalls were bloodstained and torn from the constant beatings she had endured. She stood wobble legged wavering as the squaws circled her and threatened her with cane poles.
A fat squaw stepped to the woman and tied a rawhide rope around her neck, and with a jerk, she stumbled and crawled as they left the camp headed for the hide racks. Below him, the Indian watched the progress of the squaws leading the white slave from the camp and he retreated to the river’s edge.
‘So that wuz it. He wuz interested in one of the Indian women that brought Tillie down to the racks,’ Elam thought. Looking at the women, he suddenly realized that the women were all older, fat squaws, and none would be appealing. ‘Then he must be interested in Tillie.’ A surge of jealousy coursed through his body.
Rage welled up in Elam as he watched the small ragged and abused woman being dragged and beaten by her tormentors. He knew that she wouldn’t last through this day. She didn’t have the strength to fight back when she was struck repeatedly by a stick. It was all she could do to stay on her feet. The brave’s interest was the women, so Elam worked his way down the tree and made his way downstream away from the bend in the river. When he was out of sight of the Indian, he slipped into the river and made his way back upstream to the river’s bend where he could watch what was going on. From his location, Elam was within easy striking distance of the Indian, but if the Indian should turn and walk back to the river’s edge, he could easily be detected.