Matt nodded and said, “All right. Don’t reckon I’ve got much choice in the matter. I’m about as weak right now as a newborn kitten.”
“You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”
“The thought crossed my mind,” Matt admitted as he stretched out again on the blankets.
“I’m a teacher. I’ve come to help educate these people.”
The Navajo had been living in this part of the country for hundreds of years, Matt thought. He wasn’t sure how much educating they needed.
Folks back East didn’t think of it that way, however. They had the idea that everybody ought to live like them ... whether the people to be “educated” wanted it or not. “Lo, the poor Indian!” they said, leading the cavalry to adopt Mister Lo as a scornful nickname for all Indians.
Some good things came from that Eastern attitude, misguided though it was most of the time. Sam’s mother had been a white teacher who had come west to educate the so-called savages.
In the process she had won the heart of Sam’s father Medicine Horse.
“I reckon I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Fleming,” Matt said. “I’m Matt Bodine.”
“I’m pleased to meet you as well, Mr. Bodine ... although the circumstances are somewhat lacking in, ah, propriety.”
Such as the fact that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, Matt realized. He wondered if he ought to try to cover up with one of the blankets he was lying on.
The older woman knelt by the fire, where a pot was sitting at the edge of the flames. Matt didn’t know what was in it, but the hogan began to fill with a good smell that made him realize he was hungry in spite of his weakened condition. Or maybe because of it.
Before he had a chance to think any more about that, somebody stepped into the hogan. Matt looked up and saw a fierce-looking Navajo warrior standing there. The man looked at Elizabeth Fleming, then at Matt.
And as he glowered down at Matt, his hand dropped to the hilt of a knife tucked behind the scarlet sash around his waist. The look in his eyes was unmistakable.
He wanted to pull that knife and plunge it into the white man’s chest.
Chapter 7
Matt tensed himself to roll out of the way if the warrior lunged at him, but a second later Sam stepped into the hogan, too. Sam didn’t appear concerned, so Matt figured he was safe after all.
“You’re awake,” Sam said, sounding happy about it. He came over and hunkered on his heels next to the pile of blankets where Matt lay. “How do you feel?”
“Those bullet holes hurt like blazes, and I’m a mite lightheaded,” Matt replied, “but on the whole I reckon it’s a heap better than being dead.”
Sam nodded.
“You had me pretty worried for a while, Matt. You lost so much blood, you looked like you were about to run dry.”
“Yeah, I can feel it, too,” Matt said with a feeble nod. He glanced toward the unfriendly-looking warrior. “Who’s your pard there?”
“That’s Juan Pablo. He’s the one who heard the shots when those bushwhackers opened up on us. He came back here to the canyon, got Chief Caballo Rojo and the rest of the men, and rode out to see what had happened.”
“They’re Navajo?” Matt guessed.
Sam nodded.
“That’s right.”
Even though he was weak, Matt lifted a hand and rested it on Sam’s arm. Quietly, he asked, “Are they going to—”
“Kill both of you?” Juan Pablo broke in. Obviously, Matt’s question hadn’t been quiet enough to keep the warrior from overhearing what he said. Juan Pablo went on, “Caballo Rojo has promised that the two of you will be safe.”
Sam inclined his head toward the warrior and told Matt, “Juan Pablo speaks English.”
“Of course he does,” Elizabeth said. “Quite a few of his people have been to mission schools.” She stood up and held out a hand to Sam. “I’m Elizabeth Fleming.”
“Sam Two Wolves,” he told her. “I was wondering what a, uh ...”
“—Redhead who looks like she’s straight from Killarney was doing in a Navajo clan?” Her green eyes twinkled as she smiled. “I’m a teacher, Mr. Two Wolves.”
“So was my mother,” Sam said, unknowingly echoing Matt’s thoughts earlier.
From the blankets, Matt said, “Help me sit up.”
Sam frowned.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“I’ve got something to say, and I’d rather be upright while I’m doing it.”
“You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you?”
“You ever know me
