Otio brought her cheese and goat’s milk and some meat. She looked with suspicion at the meat, and raised her eyes inquiringly as he squatted near.
“Xarkia,” he said.
She held it to her nose, wrinkling her face a little.
“It is mutton jerky,” Xerxes told her from the other side of the tent, where he had been changing the dressing on his arm. “Otio, you must learn the English better.”
“I will learn Indian,” Otio said. Then, to the girl, “It is from the ardiak, the sheep.”
She was shaking her head.
He shrugged and handed her a piece of garlic. “You want?”
She shook her head; she had tried it the day before.
“Wine?” He studied her. “What you want?”
She said nothing, just ate the cheese slowly, her eyes cast down.
“We move the sheep again,” he said. “Can you walk this time?” And he pointed to her leg.
“Walk?”
“If it hurts bad, you can ride the mule. But better to walk.”
He stood up as Ciriaco and Little Marc entered. “We move them.”
“In what direction?” Ciriaco asked. “We move closer to the soldiers or away from them?”
They had stepped outside the tent, and Otio said, “Over on the other side of that rise.”
“There is the timber.”
“Yes, and it will take too long to go around it. I looked this morning with Moro.”
“But we will have trouble going through the trees. It will be too hard for the sheep, will it not?” said Ciriaco.
“We will do what we did last time, in the Sierra. You remember?”
Ciriaco raised his eyebrows. Ah, yes, he remembered well. “That will be good. That is the good way to do it.” He was about to say more when all at once they heard horses approaching.
“It is the soldiers,” someone called as Otio grabbed his rifle.
Still with the weapon in his hand, he walked forward to where one of the dogs was sitting, its tongue hanging out, tail bouncing expectantly.
Otio recognized Windy Mandalian instantly, and Ciriaco let out a great shout of welcome, running toward the scout with his knees wobbling, his hands almost touching the ground, with a grotesque limp, as though he were some sort of wild animal.
“Good thing I looked at you twice,” Windy said with a big grin. “I was about to plug me a crazy-looking bear.”
The watching herders roared with laughter.
“A wild animal,” laughed Ciriaco.
“Or a wild human—more dangerous,” Otio said.
“This here is Lieutenant Kincaid; I told you about him,” Windy said nodding toward Matt.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” Matt said, “and I’m happy we finally meet, though the circumstances could be better.”
“Circum—eh?” Otio looked toward his uncle for help.
Ciriaco was standing at rigid attention, and now whipped a blinding salute at Matt Kincaid, who returned
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it laughing. Windy had told him about Ciriaco.
“He tells that he wishes there was no Indian fighting,” Ciriaco explained to Otio, who suddenly remembered Morning Flower in the tent.
“Julio, bring some food and coffee for the visitors. We go to Xerxes’s tent.”
“Xerxes?” But Ciriaco’s words died when he saw the warning look on Otio’s face.
Only they were not quick enough. Xerxes, who was a bit hard of hearing, caught only part of what Otio had said, and from force of habit stepped into the first tent, holding the flap for Kincaid and Windy.
“They will take the girl, it is sure,” Ciriaco whispered, and Otio almost kicked him, for the whisper was like a trumpet. Ready to face the worst, he entered with Ciriaco.
But the girl was not there. There was the bedding, and the rugs, boxes, and panniers—and of course the men.
“We will go to Xerxes’s tent,” Otio said, this time loud enough for Xerxes to hear. “It will be more comfortable. And that is where I told Julio to bring the food and coffee.”
But Julio at that moment ducked into the tent carrying bread and cheese and the wineskin.
“The coffee will come,” he said. “I did not hear if
you wanted wine, Otio.”
“Yes. If the visitors wish some.” He turned to Kincaid and Windy. “Wine? You wish wine?”
“Not for me,” Matt said.
“He don’t drink,” Windy said, accepting the offer for himself. “Except when he ain’t on duty.”
Matt said, “We are asking that everyone come in closer to the post, since there’s no telling when you might get hit again.”
“We are already moving in your direction,” Otio said. “And we do not need protection. We will be able to drive away the attack. Windy here is welcome, but all those men on horseback will frighten the sheep.”
“You better listen to the Lieutenant, Otio,” Windy said. “He knows what he’s talking about.”
“And Otio, my friend, knows what he is talking about. The sheep do not like a lot of strangers with them.”
“The thing is,” Matt explained, “if Quick Thunder can be stopped right away, then we’re all right. But if he gets the idea that he’s winning something, if he feels we’re in trouble, then he’ll get other tribes to come in with him.”
“Other tribes?”
“That’s the way it works,” Windy said.
“We will move closer,” Otio said. “We wish to see the graze on the other side of the timber over there.”
“I can leave you some men.”
Otio shook his head, and said nothing. He had already told them no; why did they keep asking?
When they had gone, Ciriaco said, “Where is the girl?”
“Under the blankets.”
Otio walked over and began pulling away the pile of blankets at the end of the tent. Morning Flower lay curled on her side, her arm covering her head.
“You could have gone with the soldiers,” Otio said. “They would not have hurt you. The lieutenant would send you back to your people.”
“Is that so sure?”
“I think he is an honest man.”
“The soldiers always lie. And if they don’t lie, then the one above them lies—their soldier chief.”
Otio studied it. “Maybe it is so. Yes. I do not trust them so much; but the lieutenant and Windy I trust.”
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“When will you let me go?”
“When we leave this place.”
“You did not kill me,” Morning Flower said. “You have not done a bad thing to me.”
As they rode away fom the sheep camp, Windy said, “Independent cuss, ain’t he?”
Matt nodded. “I like him. I trust him.”
“He’s all balls,” Windy agreed.
“What do you think, Windy?”
“I think the right smart and right now thing is to find out who killed them two Sioux.”
“I agree with that. Got any ideas?”
“First thing I want to do is go back and study them tracks again where you and me looked.”
“You’ll take Henry Walks Quickly with you?”
Windy grinned. “Unless you want to come along.”
“I wish I could. I’d much rather, to tell you the truth.”
Windy’s grin broadened. “Tell you what. I could take along that Ciriaco feller; he’s that good at imitatin’, he could make like he was you, and I wouldn’t feel so lonesome.”