Chapter 40
As I walked out of Spotted Hawk’s tipi, gunfire broke out to the east. A young guardsman raced in from the horse herd, yelling that two white men had snatched a couple of horse tenders. Otter was one of the youngsters taken.
Leaping aboard our mounts, Cut and I raced to where the abduction occurred. The tracks told the story. The ruffians had the boys double-mounted with them. I did not know the other lad, but Otter was around twelve or thirteen and good-sized for his age. The men must have knocked them in the head and tied them in some manner.
“Man-stealers,” I muttered. “They will sell the boys as slaves.”
The shock in Cut’s eyes changed to rage. Without another word, we crossed the ha-haand sped along the plainly laid trail. From the look of the tracks, their mounts were big horses, no match for the small, tough Indian ponies.