me
undone, and loose locks of blond hair hung down, almost brushing the
ground.

He bent to see Nancy's unconscious face.

Coming up beside him Redbird asked quietly, "Do you know this woman?"

"Yes," he said. It all came back to him--last summer at Victoire, the
meetings on the prairie, that night in the cornfield beside her father's
house when she had begged him to "know" her. Had he missed her? Yes; he
had to admit that. Did he love her? He was not sure, but, happy as he
had been with Redbird, he often thought of Nancy and wondered if she
still longed for him as she had when he left her.

How, without hurting Redbird, who stood next to him watching as he
stared down at Nancy, could he explain what this white woman meant to
him?

He reached out to untie the rope looped around Nancy's back that held
her to Wolf Paw's horse.

"Do not touch her," Wolf Paw growled. "She is for me, and only for me."

No, White Bear thought, he could not let Nancy be kidnapped and raped by
this man. Whatever bloody things had been done at Victor, this he must
prevent. He readied himself to fight Wolf Paw if he had to.

And how would he explain _that_ to Redbird?

Wolf Paw slid down from his horse and, one-handed, untied Nancy. Fresh
blood was soaking through the cloth around his shoulder--a strip of blue
gingham torn from Nancy's dress, White Bear now saw.

Weak from his wound, Wolf Paw could not lift Nancy and carry her.
Regardless of Wolf Paw's warning, White Bear would not let her fall. He
took her from Wolf Paw and eased her to the ground. Her eyelids were
fluttering. Redbird, bending awkwardly with her swollen belly, helped
him. Their eyes met, and she looked searchingly into his.

A woman's voice cried, "The pale eyes squaw is _not_ for you, Wolf Paw.
I will not have her in my wickiup." Running Deer, the older of Wolf
Paw's two wives, strode up to Wolf Paw, thrusting her face into his.
Behind her came Burning Pine, the younger wife, a papoose strapped to
her back, looking equally determined.

"My wives will do as I say," Wolf Paw grumbled, but there was no
strength in his voice.

Burning Pine said, "Your wives and children are hungry. We are eating
roots and bark. We have no food for any pale eyes."

For now, Black Hawk's band was hidden away on an island of dry ground in
the heart of a great marsh north of the headwaters of the Rock River,
well into the Michigan Territory. But there was scarcely any game or
fish her