Free The Return of the Indian by Lynne Reid Banks

Omri stared at the firepower bristling out between Patrick’s fingers. They had an army there, all right!
    Patrick was already moving toward the cupboard, the handful of soldiers ready to thrust in.
    “No,” said Omri, as he had once before. “Stop!”
    “I’m going to do it!” said Patrick.
    Just at that moment, they heard footsteps coming up the stairs.
    As one, they turned and sat on the very edge of the chest, facing the door, forming a human screen.
    Omri’s mother put her head in.
    “Patrick, your mother just rang. Your cousin Tamsin has had a nasty fall off her bicycle and your mother’s going to stay and help your aunt, so you won’t be going home today.”
    Patrick’s face lit up. “Great! That means I can stay the night here!”
    “I’m sorry about your poor cousin.”
    “I’m not,” said Patrick promptly. “I hope she broke a leg.”
    “Really, Patrick! That’s not nice.”
    “Nor is she,” said Patrick feelingly.
    Omri’s mother was looking at them curiously. “You do look odd, sitting there like Tweedledum and Tweedledee,” she said. “Are you hiding something from me?”
    “Yes,” said Omri. It was always better to be quite frankwith his parents if possible. Luckily they didn’t expect to be in on everything he did.
    “Oh, well,” she said, “I hope it’s nothing too awful. There’ll be a bite of lunch in a little while. I’ll call you.”
    And she went off.
    Patrick slumped with relief. “She’s just not normal, your mum,” he muttered. “Mine wouldn’t have rested till she’d had a good look …” He brought his hand from behind his back and opened it and looked at the soldiers. The uncontrollable impulse to put them in the cupboard had subsided, but he still wanted to very badly. Omri could see that.

Chapter 11
Target Omri!
    Bright Stars was calling them.
    She had come to Little Bear’s bedside again and was now helping him to struggle into a sitting position.
    “I don’t think he should sit up yet,” said Omri anx-iously. “Not—sit—up.” Bright Stars looked very wor-ried, but Little Bear brushed her aside, gritting his teeth.
    “Little Bear sit. Stand. Go back and fight!”
    “No. You can’t. You’re not strong enough.”
    “I strong enough! I chief. Chief not sit in far place when tribe in trouble! Omri put in box. Omri send back! Chief Little Bear say.”
    But Omri was adamant. “You’re not going anywhere till you’re better.”
    He looked into the Indian’s face. He understood verywell how he must be feeling. Like a deserter, even though his getting shot, and being here, were no fault of his own at all.
    Once, Omri had been away on a week’s school trip and when he got back he found that while he’d been gone, his mother, alone in the house, had cut herself very badly on a broken bottle. With her hand pouring blood she had managed to get to the phone, an ambulance had come and she was soon in hospital and safe. None of all this was any fault of Omri’s or anyone’s. But he felt terrible—really guilty—about having been so far away.
    So it wasn’t hard to imagine how badly Little Bear felt the need to get back to help his people. After all, he was their chief; he was responsible for them. Who knew what was happening at the Indian encampment at this very moment? Bright Stars was thinking about it too. She was torn, Omri could see, between wanting to keep Little Bear in bed and wanting him to go back and do what he had to do.
    “Let’s tell him about Boone’s idea,” suggested Patrick. “It might take his mind off going back right away himself.”
    “Yeah! Ah had me a idee, all right!” chimed in Boone. “Say, why don’t we all have us a bite t’ eat, not to mention a swig o’ likker? And talk my idee over? Ain’t mithin’ like whiskey fer helpin’ yer brain work, ain’t that so, kid?”
    So Omri crept downstairs and extracted a small glassful of scotch from his parents’ drinks cupboard, and some food from the table which