That's when he hears it, the war cry of the Shoshone and it is like the beautiful song of the morning bird. Tears fill his eyes, and he tries to sit up to greet them as a warrior, but the ground refuses to let go of him!
The scouting party watches the wounded warrior fall from his horse, and they look to each and talk softly as they gather around him. His bullet wound is pulsing blood again, and from the fluttery pulse, they aren't sure he will survive much longer.
“Tsalagi, Tsalagi…” he whispers as they prod him, and load him onto a sleigh they fashion out of strips of cloth and saplings.
“Tsalagi!” he chants over, and, over again until the darkness claims him. They return to camp and call for the medicine man. The bullet is lodged in his shoulder. A few minutes later they send word to the Rivers Ranch to bring the doctor.
As the sun rises to midday a band of Shoshone Indians ride into the main yard of the ranch. The leader leaps from his horse and meets the ranch hand halfway. After an intense conversation Dane is called and soon Harris is loading his medicine bag and following them out.
“What’s that about?” Chase asks his dad.
“They have a wounded Cheyenne buck screaming about a Devil. He's been shot in the shoulder,” Dane answers looking worried. “I think we need to get Dalton.”
Solomon sees the birds circling in the sky as the first snowflakes fall. “Damn.” Vultures mean one thing, prey, whether dead or alive. He gallops hard in the general direction, trusting them to guide him and soon is crossing a river.
The first thing he notices is the stench. The putrid scent of death permeates the air. His gag instinct is strong, but he quickly lifts his bandana tied around his neck to cover his nose and mouth. It helps with the flies but does not cleanse the aftertaste of death from his tongue.
He slows his horse to a trot, and the large black birds bounce away, but stay close falling back on their prizes when he passes. They tear at the flesh on multiple mounds of carcasses. The snow has begun to frost the bloodstained clearing and Solomon stops in his tracks.
Death is not new to him, he has survived it, even dealt it, but never like this. Dropping from his saddle, he walks amongst the dead Indians, and a savage scene begins to unfold in his mind.
“Butchery!” he growls, and he wonders if Dalton Rivers can possibly be prepared for the horror that is coming. He mounts and kicks his horse into a fast run knowing full well that he is chasing the Devil himself.
Sitting with the young warrior, Dalton wonders the same thing. The Indian tells them of the “Tsalagi” or the devil man who destroyed his brothers with fire. Harris is translating as he speaks. The language used by the Shoshone is a version of Arapahoe. The Cheyenne have their own langue but can speak a mixed version of Arapahoe as well. Lucky for them Harris speaks both.
As a doctor, it is important to him that he can speak the different dialects, although he has noticed that over time the tribes are mixing and it is changing the languages. The young warrior speaks and interrupts his chain of thought.
“He speaks of the devil man attacking at night. He had helpers, and they scalped and butchered all those left behind.” Harris says as he speaks rapidly to the medicine man. “I need to remove the bullet from his shoulder before lead poisoning sets in. If he survives the surgery and blood loss, you will have to watch for infection.” Freshwater is boiled, and Harris cleans up as they give the young man some morphine to help sedate him.
“We need to get back to the ranch. I'm going after him, I can't let this butcher get to our family.” Dalton snaps.
“Not yet. We need to talk to the Chief and ask for his help Dalton. If what this young man says is true, we must be prepared. Act don’t react!”
After an animated discussion with Harris, Dalton follows him to the Chief’s war tent to discuss the plan, then returns to the ranch, ignoring the snow falling and blowing wind.
The snow falls swift and hard for hours painting the River’s Ranch in a beautiful winter wonderland. The sparkling snow glitters, but its beauty is lost on the six shadows who push through the day, destroying the perfect blanket. They ride twelve hours without stopping before they arrive a mile from their target just after sunset.
“Kill without thought!” Aiden sneers. “Everyone here, male or female is an enemy. They will not give you a second chance.”
Checking their guns and ammo, they break up under cover of darkness and creep along silently moving into positions around the main house and barns. Aiden's orders are to wait until just before sunrise, when everyone on the ranch is sleeping or too exhausted to be truly alert before the attacks begin.
The five men move away, leaving the horses with Aiden. He ties them under a tree and moves in the direction of the ranch. Cassie will be kept in the main lodge. That is where he will start. As he crests a low rise in the forest backing up to the main house, he's impressed with the spread before him. It is a large ranch style cabin, with a wraparound porch. The windows are glowing, and laughter can be heard inside as the family shares an evening meal or perhaps a drink. His anger begins to grow as he pulls his overcoat tighter about him to fend off the cold, ‘Enjoy your last eve together.'
Settling down in a
