Savage Cry by Charles G. West

Author:Charles G. West [West, Charles G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, General, Historical, Westerns
ISBN: 9780451206916
Google: 1wW8fk6ecCIC
Amazon: B000O76OWW
Barnesnoble: B000O76OWW
Goodreads: 2110121
Publisher: Signet
Published: 2002-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Encouraged by the fact that he was at last venturing into the territories frequented by the band of savages that had abducted his sister, Clay Culver rode easily in the saddle, his body moving in perfect partnership with Red’s gait. Up ahead, Badger guided his dingy gray Indian pony around the many cuts and defiles that broke away from the prairie toward the wide river they had followed since sunup that morning. Following Pete’s directions, the little party had set out to the west on the north side of the Missouri.

Watching the old scout rocking gently in the saddle before him, Clay realized how fortunate he had been to run into Badger. And he still puzzled over the fact that the crusty old mountain man would choose to guide him into hostile country, leaving his wife and friends behind, with no apparent reward for his services. Clay had yet to learn of the irresistible calling the mountains had on a man like Badger, and the constant craving to see what might lie beyond the next ridge.

Moving his head constantly from side to side, sniffing the air as he did, Badger reminded Clay of a prairie dog, scanning the plain for signs of danger. The peril—some men might call it folly—of three lone white men riding deep into Blackfoot country caused no concern in Clay’s mind. He had the utmost confidence in Badger’s ability as a scout and his own efficiency with his Winchester rifle. If there were trouble, he was confident that he could make it extremely expensive for any hostiles who might consider attacking them.

Bringing up the rear of their tiny caravan, Pete Dubois rode a shaggy brown mount that walked, head down, behind Clay’s packhorse. His eyes dulled by too many winters in the high mountains, Pete was content to let Badger lead the way, after he had advised Badger on the most direct trail to one of Black Shirt’s favorite campsites. Glancing back occasionally at the old Frenchman, Clay couldn’t help but question the wisdom in bringing Pete along. Badger felt it critical that Pete should accompany them since he was known by the Blackfeet and considered a friend, but Clay wondered if the old man was going to make it to Black Shirt’s winter camp. Like his horse, Pete rode slumped over, his head down as if each mile might be his last. Clay questioned the advisability of arriving at the Blackfoot camp with a dead man. Badger only laughed when Clay expressed his doubts, saying, “Don’t let his looks fool ya. That old buzzard might outlive the both of us.”

The weather was getting colder as each day passed, and the cool morning air promised the possibility of an early winter. The animals seemed to know it. Already there were signs that antelope were moving away from the open plains toward more sheltered valleys and beaver had already returned to their dams. Game was still abundant on the prairie, however. There should be no scarcity of fresh meat to be killed whenever they needed it.

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