Chapter 22 #2
With the sun directly overhead and the heat of the day upon them, Swift Hawk slipped into camp unseen. However, had he ridden in attack upon these wagons with war cries and banners waving, he doubted anyone would have noticed him. The hum of talk was everywhere.
Crawling to the top of one of the wagons, Swift Hawk could see Kit Russell near the center of the commotion. So, too, could Swift Hawk discern Mr. Hudson, who was also there, though his children and mother stood toward the back of the crowd.
The curious yet frightening thing was that the crowd was centered around Angelia and Julian’s wagon.
Stealthily, Swift Hawk made his way back to the ground and sped toward the scene, trying his best to look beyond the few brightly colored sunbonnets and more numerous bobbing black hats. Still no one had noticed him. It gave him some advantage.
As he strode forward, he attempted to hear beyond the hum and barking of many uplifted voices. But it was no good. Though words were being shouted, Swift Hawk could not discern what was being said. He would have to go in closer.
Without warning, Red Fox was in front of him, and Swift Hawk knew a very happy moment. Without wasting time, Red Fox said, “It is your white friend. He is in trouble.”
“My white friend? Julian?” asked Swift Hawk.
Red Fox nodded.
“What is happening here?”
“There is a man who came here,” said Red Fox. “I call him Black Hat, for he wears a black hat, black boots and grows black hair above his upper lip.”
Swift Hawk frowned. Black hat, black boots, black mustache?
But Red Fox was continuing. “Black Hat has wounded our friend and has tied his hands. He is attempting to take him away from here. But the people who travel with this train are protesting this.”
And they were. Even now Swift Hawk could hear the raised voices of Kit Russell and Mr. Hudson.
“Do you know who this man is and where he is from?”
“I do not,” said Red Fox. “But he is a white man I have not seen with the train before today. He wears also a red shirt and buckskin breeches, like many mountain men that we have seen.”
Swift Hawk became deadly still. This was it.
It was the man from his vision. Swift Hawk knew it without even looking; he could feel it.
So this was the danger he had sensed. Here before him, at last, was Swift Hawk’s destiny. Here was his duty.
Show kindness, show mercy to the enemy. Give help. These were his guiding principles. But could he do this if the man was manhandling Julian?
He had no choice. But…
Swift Hawk needed more information. He would have to advance closer to the center of the argument to see if this man, Black Hat, were indeed the one from his vision. And if he was…
“My friend,” said Red Fox, “is something wrong?”
Swift Hawk nodded. “There may be a great deal wrong or a good deal that is right. But I am uncertain, and I cannot explain it now. Come, let us make our way through this crowd. I would see this thing for myself.”
“The man’s lying!”
Above the shouts, as well as the hum of the crowd, Julian’s voice could easily be heard. Sitting atop his mount, Julian was holding on to his shoulder. Blood dripped there.
“Wait! I can prove it,” came another voice, equally as loud.
“If’n ye’ll let me show ye the writ. Got me here a writ a some kind or ’nother ’n’ a wanted poster from the good ole state o’ Mississippi.
Somewhere, here in my pocket. This here man’s a murderer.
Killed hisself a man. Got a woman pregnant, then left.
It’s my job ta take him back fer a trial, but in my mind, he oughta be hung. ”
It was the man from his vision. Swift Hawk immediately recognized him.
“He’s lying,” Julian cried out again. “I have committed no crime!”
Kit Russell stepped forward, and taking hold of the writ, scanned it. Glancing up at Julian, he could be heard to say, “Sorry, son. But the man’s within his authority. You’ll have to do as he says. It’s the law.”
Julian looked spooked. But all he uttered was, “He’ll hang me.”
Kit Russell shook his head. “It’s out of my hands.”
The people in the crowd murmured amongst themselves, and Mr. Hudson reached for the warrant, as though to check it for himself. Glumly, he rubbed his head.
The excitement was dying down, and one by one the people began to retreat. Seeing it, Black Hat gave a rotten-toothed smile, and mounting his own horse, took up the reins of Julian’s steed. Steadily, he proceeded to weave his way through the crowd.
Confused at his exact role in this drama, but on the alert, Swift Hawk followed, leaving the wagon train behind him.
What happened next occurred so fast that Swift Hawk barely had time to react and no time in which to think.
Black Hat had not gone far—in fact, the white tops of the wagons could still be seen faintly in the distance—when suddenly she was there. As though she had materialized out of the prairie itself, she stood in Black Hat’s path.
What was she doing? Hadn’t he told her to stay put?
With the shotgun he had left her aimed squarely at the man in red and black, she shouted, “My brother is innocent. He fired no gun, and killed nobody. Who you really want is me. I’m the one who did the shooting back there in Mississippi.
Now, get down and untie my brother, mister. Now.” She motioned with the gun.
Swift Hawk, whose pace could not compete with a galloping steed, had been left behind. He rushed forth.
But like the furious winds of the prairie, his thoughts spun. On one hand, Angelia was his wife, his to protect and aid; on the other hand, it was his mission, his very purpose in life, to show mercy, to help and to give aid to the enemy. And this man, Black Hat, was clearly his enemy.
What was he supposed to do? Help this man arrest his wife? Was this his duty?
It couldn’t be.
And yet, didn’t his tribe’s freedom depend on him doing the right thing?
Yes, but what exactly was the right thing to do? No matter what choice he made, someone would get hurt.
Swift Hawk felt himself pull inward both spiritually and mentally, felt the space around him contract, and so lightheaded did his thoughts make him, his head started to spin.
Black Hat had jumped to the ground, but he didn’t move toward Julian. Instead, he stood in front of Angel, his pose a threat.
“Untie him, I said.” Angelia pointed the shotgun at the man’s heart. “You know that I can use this gun. I’ve not missed yet. Now untie him.”
Black Hat made a halfhearted move toward Julian, but instead of doing as ordered, with a speed that defied his degraded look, Black Hat spun toward Angelia, knocking the gun from her hands.
Black Hat laughed, picking up the rifle. “Thank ye, miss,” he said, raising up. “Yer the one I want.” He grabbed hold of Angelia, none too gently, and tugged.
Swift Hawk was running with every ounce of his strength.
Even as he sprinted toward them, doubt filled his soul. Could he fulfill his destiny and give aid, show mercy to this enemy, a man who was bullying his wife? Not and live with himself.
On the other hand, could he live with himself if he showed no mercy, if he gave no aid? If he failed his people?
The problem was soon taken out of his hands. Angelia was not to be seized so easily. Grabbing hold of Black Hat’s hand, she bit down on it hard.
Black Hat slapped her, and the sound of that strike reverberated in Swift Hawk’s ears, over and over and over. It was a moment set out of time, a moment of clarity, for it was then that Swift Hawk knew he could not, he would not, aid this man.
Angelia was crying. “Have mercy,” she begged. “My brother has done nothing.”
“Angel.” It was Julian speaking. “Let it go.” Though his hands were tied, he swung his leg over the horse’s back and jumped to the ground.
He said to Black Hat, “She’s just protecting me.
She didn’t do anything. Now, I’ll go with you quietly.
But promise me this. If I go with you, you’ll let my sister be. ”
Swift Hawk was close. He crept forward.
Black Hat smiled wickedly and scratched his whiskers. “Don’t rightly think so.” He pointed his rifle at Julian. “As a matter o’ fact, don’t need ye at all. Man I work fer wants her ’n’ only her, but he wants ye dead. An’ seein’ as how I got the law on my side, I think I’ll end it right here.”
It was an odd thing, Swift Hawk was to think later. It has been said, by those who have come close to death, that within those last few seconds of life, all becomes clear. And so it was with Swift Hawk.
As he watched that rifle, saw Black Hat’s finger on it move, he knew that he must sacrifice all he had ever lived for, all he had been groomed to do, his entire purpose for being here. He could not let his friend die. He could not let her brother die. To do so was unthinkable.
He knew he had time in which to manage it. In his own mind, events were moving so slowly.
He sprinted toward Julian at the same instant the man pulled that trigger. And so slowly was his world spinning, he could even see the bullet coming. Throwing himself forward, he sprang in front of it.
His body jerked as the full impact of that bullet hit him, and the pain was almost unbearable. And then there was nothing.