Free Savage Autumn by Constance O'Banyon Page A

over his mouth. Tag was too paralyzed with fear to put up a struggle. The Indian threw him over his shoulder and carried him toward his camp. Bobby had witnessed his friend’s capture. He buried his face in the grass and covered his head with his arms, fearing any moment the Indians would cross the river and discover his hiding place. After a few moments he decided he was safe, so he jumped to his feet and ran back to camp as if the devil himself were chasing him.
    Windhawk, and Running Elk, the chief of the Piegans, were standing in front of a tipi when one of Running Elk’s warriors brought Tag forward and tossed him to the ground in front of them.
    Tag scrambled to his feet and looked about him wild-eyed. He recognized the Indian who had saved his life and gave him a nervous smile.
    “What is the meaning of this?” Windhawk asked the brave who had captured Tag.
    “I found this boy hiding behind a tree,” came the reply.
    “Were there others with him?” Running Elk asked.
    “No, my chief, I watched him cross the river alone. There was another boy, but he did not cross.”
    “What shall we do with him?” Running Elk asked.
    Tag could understand nothing that was being said. His knees were shaking so badly he was sure the Indians were witnessing his cowardice.
    The man who had saved his life knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. “Why have you come among us, little brother?” he asked in English.
    “I wanted to watch the games, and I wanted to trade my knife for a tomahawk,” Tag replied, sounding braver than he felt.
    Windhawk stood up and spoke to Running Elk. “I know this boy. He is the same one I pulled out of the river. I will allow him to watch the games.”
    “He is white!” Running Elk challenged.
    Windhawk drew Tag closer to him. “I saved his life, therefore, I am responsible for him. He will watch the games.”
    Running Elk looked as though he would like to disagree with Windhawk, but he didn’t. No one ever challenged Windhawk!
    “Come with me,” Windhawk told Tag.
    Tag no longer felt fear. His eyes sparkled brightly as he walked beside the tall Indian. Bobby was going to be sorry he didn’t come with me, Tag thought. His mind was racing ahead to the stories he would tell his friend when he got back to camp.
    Tag watched several horse races, and showed his excitement by clapping his hands. The tall Indian explained to him that the one who won the race also won his opponent’s horse.
    The Blackfoot were superb horsemen and performed many tricks while on horseback. Tag particularly enjoyed the race where an Indian on a pinto was matched against an Indian on a big roan horse. The man on the pinto pulled into the lead, then turned around backwards on his horse and taunted his opponent by motioning for him to try and catch him.
    Tag laughed delightedly into the eyes of the tall Indian.
    Windhawk smiled. The small boy was very brave. He placed his hand on the red curls, thinking how like his sister the boy looked.
    When Bobby reached the Jameses’ wagon, he was so out of breath he could hardly speak. Joanna was peeling apples, and she smiled at him, but her smile quickly vanished when she saw his face.
    “Come quick, the Indians have got your brother! I watched them take him away. I think they were going to scalp him!” Bobby blurted out.
    Joanna gripped his shoulders tightly.
    “Where! Where is my brother?”
    By now many of the women had heard the commotion and had gathered around Joanna.
    “The Indians got him. I told him not to cross the river, but he wouldn’t listen to me!” Bobby cried.
    Joanna tried to swallow her fear. Without stopping to think about what she was doing, she bounded onto Fosset’s back.
    “Merciful heavens,” Franny cried, wringing her hands. “What will they do with my boy?”
    Joanna looked at Franny. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring him back.” She whirled Fosset around and rode off in a cloud of dust, heading