others.
Logan couldn’t wait.
Evelyn warned the black man not to move or she would shoot him. She assumed the threat would turn him to stone. Instead, as she rose from concealment on the crest of the gully with her Hawken centered on his chest, he did the last thing she expected.
The black turned and smiled, his arms out from his sides. “We meet again, young one,” he cheerfully greeted her.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Evelyn demanded. “I’ll shoot you if you don’t do exactly as I say.”
“Shot a lot of people, have you? Somehow, I don’t think so. I doubt you’ve ever shot anybody.” He confidently added, “It’s never easy the first time. Some people can’t do it. They don’t have it in them.”
“I do,” Evelyn assured him. With a bob of her chin at the opposite side of the gully, she said, “So does he.”
Plenty Elk had an arrow nocked to his bowstring and the string drawn back to his cheek.
“Don’t do anything hasty,” the black man said. “See? I’m putting my rifle down. Now I’m taking a pistol and laying it down, too.”
“I told you not to move, scalp hunter.” Evelyn held the Hawken straight and steady, ready to shoot. He was right, though. She wasn’t like her brother. She wasn’t a killer. She wouldn’t shoot unless he forced her, and even then she would shoot reluctantly.
The black raised his hands in the air. “Suit yourself, girl. You caught me fair and square. But what was that about scalps?”
“Play innocent, why don’t you?”
“Why, girl, I’m as innocent as a newborn babe.”
Evelyn sidled down the slope. She told him to get on his knees. He hesitated, glanced at Plenty Elk, and did as she bid him. With Plenty Elk covering her, Evelyn reached around from behind and snatched the second pistol, then stepped back. “There now. We need to talk. First off, what’s your name?”
“Rubicon.”
“That’s a strange name. What does it mean?”
Rubicon shrugged. “My pa said it had something to do with a river somewhere. That’s all I know.”
“Plenty Elk, here, has told me about you and your friends. How far back are they? What are their plans? Were you to signal them when you caught up with us?”
“You ask a lot of questions,” Rubicon said good-naturedly.
“I expect a lot of answers.” It had been Evelyn’s idea to take him alive. Plenty Elk had been disappointed, but she convinced him the black might have information they could use.
Rubicon chuckled. “Listen to yourself. You’re a girl playing at being tough. If you had any sense you would get on your horse and ride like hell while you still can.”
“Big talk, but
“It’s not me you have to worry about, girl. It’s the man I ride for. He’ll be awful mad at you for jumping me and he’s not nice when he’s mad. Fact is, he’s the meanest cuss on the whole damn planet.”
“I’m a King, mister.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
“It means I might be a girl, but I’m not helpless. It means I never give up. It means I don’t desert my friends. It means I’ll do whatever I have to in order to stop you.”
“For a fool you sure are pretty.”
“On your feet. Keep your hands where I can see them and head up this gully.” Evelyn snagged the reins to his horse and brought it along.
Rubicon chuckled. “Get on my knees. Get on my feet. I wish you’d make up your mind.”
“You’re in awful good spirits for someone in your predicament.”
“It’s not me who has the predicament, girl. It’s you. I don’t know what you think you’re doing by taking me this way. It won’t do you any good. It won’t do you any good at all.”
“Why do you ride with the man you told me about? You don’t strike me as being bad.”
Rubicon glanced over his shoulder at her. “There you go again. Missy, you can’t judge other folks by how you think. It’s how
“Get moving.” Evelyn saw Plenty Elk give her a quizzical look. She motioned for him to come down and he was quick to fall into step beside her. Not once did he lower his bow.
“Yes, sir,” Rubicon rambled on. “You’re in a fine pickle. You won’t take my advice and light a shuck. What to do? What to do?”
“You like to hear yourself talk, don’t you?”
Rubicon was talking to distract her, and to test how much she would let him get away with. He was trying to dupe her into letting down her guard so he could jump her. Otherwise, he was in for grief when Venom caught up. Venom didn’t like it when his men were taken captive. The last man that happened to, a gent by the name of Williams, was staked out in the burning sun by the Comanches. Venom refused to cut him free, saying that anyone so damn careless had it coming to them.
Evelyn was glad her captive had gone quiet. All his chatter was making it hard for her to think, and she had a lot to work out. She could tell that Plenty Elk was puzzled that she hadn’t killed the man outright, and to be honest, the smart thing was to shoot him dead. She’d had the perfect opportunity back there and couldn’t do it. It worried her. By civilized standards she’d done the right thing. Only this wasn’t civilization. This was the wilderness. The laws and rules that people stuck to east of the Mississippi River did not apply west of it. Out here it was be strong and live or be weak and die.
For a long while now, Evelyn had secretly wondered if she was weak. There were incidents in the past, times when she should have slain someone out to do her harm, and she didn’t. She couldn’t find it in her. Maybe—and the thought troubled her—maybe she was one of those who couldn’t harm another living soul no matter what the circumstances.
Her father killed when he had to. Her brother did it time and time again with no remorse. Even her mother had taken a life or two. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t do the same?
Evelyn put it from her mind. Now wasn’t the time. They rounded the next bend and there were the Nansusequa, anxiously waiting. “Look what we found,” she announced.
“Why is he not dead?” Waku asked.
“We’re taking him with us. First I need someone to tie his wrists. Dega, would you do the honors? There’s a rope in my parfleche.”
Dega was happy to do anything she asked. The mare shied when he reached for the saddle, but Evelyn spoke to it and the horse stood still while he opened the parfleche and took out the rope Evelyn used to tether the mare at night. Drawing his knife, he cut a suitable length and replaced the rest. As he walked over behind the captive, the black man grinned.
“Tell me, green boy, do you savvy the white tongue?”
“I speak white,” Dega said. “And I not be green.”
“Your buckskins are.” Rubicon bobbed his chin at the rest of the family. “So are theirs. What gives?”
“No give you our clothes. Our clothes ours.”
Rubicon blinked, and chortled. “No, no. What I want to know is why are you dressed all in green?”
“Green for Manitoa,” Dega explained. “Green for life.”
“Not green for grass?” Rubicon taunted.
“Put hands back so I tie them.”
“Sure, whatever you say.” Rubicon moved his arms behind him and felt his wrists gripped.
“Not move,” Dega directed.
“You’ll get to go on breathing if you cooperate,” Evelyn said.
“I’m all for breathing.”
Dega gave the rope a shake. “Once you tied we no danger.”
