Free Red Bird's Song by Beth Trissel

come."
    She lifted her eyes to his perceptive gaze. “Sometimes."
    "Only evil things?"
    She started to nod and hesitated, flushing at the memory of her dream. “Not only bad. Good, also."
    He searched her face. “What else did you see?"
    "Just a dream...of a man."
    "You know him?"
    Her cheeks grew increasingly heated. “I might."
    Amusement crept into Wicomechee's expression. “What did he do?"
    "Nothing—much."
    A slow smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “You are a bad liar."
    She fervently wished she were better and looked away.
    "Do not fear battle. I will keep you safe. Come with me now.” Wicomechee's arms slacked and he eased his support.
    Weighted with conflicting emotions, she lowered her arms with a little reluctance, also unsettling. “Where?"
    "Not far.” He grabbed up his musket, slipped its woven strap over his shoulder, and stepped ahead.
    She limped behind him through the evergreens, emerging from their shelter to the full force of the wind. Stiff breezes tore at her cloak and petticoats, billowing the cloth around her. She beat at her skirts, but the wind exposed her thighs with every gust.
    Wicomechee turned, and grinned.
    "You brought me here on purpose!"
    He chuckled. “Not for this, though I like it much."
    "Don't look at me,” she protested, and spun away.
    "Stay.” He caught her around the waist and swept her up off the ground, keeping one arm over the flapping cloth. “Why such shame? You are paca , beautiful."
    Mortified at what he'd seen, she said, “Not there. "
    A smile spread over his face. “You know little of men."
    Surefooted as a deer, he picked his way over the rocky path and between the stones littering the trail. Here and there, clumps of grass bent in the constant wind and stunted pines struggled to grow, but plants thinned out and the stones became more prominent. He rounded the boulder blocking her sight and she saw he was carrying her near the edge of a cliff.
    "Mechee!” she screeched, her embarrassment forgotten at the yawning chasm rushing up at her. She threw her arms around his neck and held onto him for dear life. But even his strength wasn't equal to this. “We'll tumble over the edge!"
    "No,” he said, projecting his voice above the wind. He stopped on the massive ledge jutting out over the vast expanse like a rocky fortress. “Look. The hawk circles below."
    "Dear God.” She'd never been above a hawk.
    Pushing back the hair whipping across her face, she gazed out over the mountains in awe. Blue-green ridges flowed beneath her in an undulating sea that seemed to go on and on forever. Shafts of late day sun shone on the nearest crests and burnished the splashes of red and gold leaves. Beyond these gilded rises, the dark blue swells were swallowed in purple shadows.
    The distant ridges seemed to beckon her on to a mysterious realm, an untamed world. “'Tis a wondrous sight."
    "Yes. This is where I kept watch today."
    "You heard me call to you from all the way up here? It must be miles."
    "I ran very fast."
    He truly must have. She owed him at least a grudging appreciation. “Thank you for saving my life."
    He returned his gaze to her, hair blowing around his face, and nodded then pointed to a place where the trail snaked up the side of the ridge among the rocks. Trees were sparse. “If the Long Knives come, I will see them there."
    Her trepidation rushed back with the accompanying stab of disloyalty. “Will they come today?"
    "It would be foolish to seek us now. Darkness will soon be upon us."
    "Captain Buchanan will come, though, and bring as many men with him as he can muster. Rob is dear to him."
    "The captain will also fight for your return, will he not? You are the woman his son desires."
    "Yes,” she said, without any spark of enthusiasm.
    "You do not wish to be recovered?"
    She kept her eyes from Wicomechee's and focused on a ridge flaming in the last rays of the sun. “Of course. Only..."
    "You do not want to wed Rob Buchanan,” he