Follow the River by JAMES ALEXANDER Thom Read Free Book Online Page A

back to the Indian instead of drinking from it, and again pointed to the others. He made a soft exclamation in his throat, then took the water to them one by one.
    “Thankee, Mary,” Henry Lenard called to her softly.
    “Welcome, Mr. Lenard.”
    There. They had dared to talk, and the Indians seemed not to mind now. The warrior brought the pan of water back toMary and she drank the rest of it, and it was good; it was almost as refreshing as having been able to speak. The Indian nodded and smiled as he took the vessel from her. It was unbelievable that they who had wrought a massacre and burned a settlement in their savage passion a few hours ago could smile and behave like humans now. That seemed like years since; this seemed like a myth-story now.
    “Bettie,” she cried. “Bettie, ca y’ hear me, hon?”
    “Aye,” came her reply after a moment.
    “How d’y do, sweet?”
    “Oh, Mary. I want to die.”
    “Nah, nah nah nah, Bettie! Won’t have that. We’re goin’ to be all right yet, dear, I do believe so.”
    “No. I’m going to die.”
    “Thomas!”
    “Hey, Mama?”
    “Y’ don’t let y’r auntie die now, or I’ll give y’ a sound hidin’, d’y hear?”
    After a moment of hestitation, the child replied, “Ay, Mama.”
    Mary smiled. Good Tommy, she thought. He’s best off with a chore at hand.
    It was odd how Mary felt now, with this unexplainable hope and good humor rising up in her, above all her pain and fatigue. I’m going giddy, she thought. But I’ll vow, if these savages don’t get murderous again, I’ll get us out o’ this somehow.
    “Oh, I will die,” Bettie moaned again.
    “Y’do, Bettie, and it’s
you
I’ll whip,” Mary said, feeling a bubble of outrageous hilarity in her breast. I mustn’t go crazy, she thought.
    Or maybe best I should.
    The tall chieftain now was walking toward her, apparently attracted by the talk among the captives. He was not smiling, but he did not seem annoyed, either. He stopped and looked up at Mary with curiosity, then started to say something, but didn’t. It was as if he were searching for English words he might not have. Mary was astonished that she felt no fear of him now. He was simply a person, a man standing here.Though he held all their lives in his hands, for the moment at least, Mary was not afraid of him. But Georgie was. Mary felt the child stiffening his back against her in terror as the warrior stood by the horse. She stroked the little boy’s hair and spoke to the Indian.
    “Will we stay here, Mister? We
must
get down.”
    He pondered her words, then pointed to the north, up toward the high, jagged escarpment. “No. There. Mo-ther be still.”
    “Oh, please, not up th …”
    “Mo-ther be still,” he repeated, more loudly. Then he turned his head and studied the slope which led up onto the cliff. Mary watched his profile and studied his demeanor to determine how close she might be to the limits of his goodwill. My Georgie’s all beshit, she thought.
    “I need to clean …”
    “Be still!” the Indian spat at her. He looked straight at her and his eyelids narrowed. It was obvious that this was all his indulgence for now. He turned and called a command, and the group of warriors dispersed and took up their places along the pack train. Mary watched the chieftain as he strode forward to the head of the column. His back was straight as a wall, and she noticed that the back of his head was flat also; a leather band around his head held three dark feathers and they stuck straight up in back. His thick black hair, parted in the middle, was held neatly in place by the headband and flowed to his shoulders. He carried himself with that same erect confidence Mary had noticed in Colonel Washington and so Mary presumed that this warrior was perhaps the equivalent of a colonel.
    We shan’t have to mollycoddle them all, at any rate, she guessed. If we can keep this gent calm, I don’t reckon he’d let the others do us harm.
    And then