A Chase to a Savage Dawn (Preview)

Chapter One

Stillwell, Kansas Territory

1860

“And don’t forget to wear your bonnet. You don’t want to get freckles after I’ve put so much buttermilk on your skin.”

Lily Holstead stood still as her mother fussed over her gingham dress, pulled a big bonnet over her head, and tied the strings tight under her chin. She ventured to object: “The mercantile’s only across the street.”

Lily looked up at her mother’s face. Her mother was prematurely gray and had salt-and-pepper hair, bright blue eyes, and strong features. Her mother arranged her bonnet strings neatly and stepped back to assess her work. “I don’t care. Folks judge you by how neat you dress. You don’t want them thinking we’re heathens, do you?”

“No ma’am.”

Her mother sighed. “Well, it’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do. Remember, Lily: I want three cards of blue buttons, a spool of white thread, some pipe tobacco for Pa, and—” she glanced down at her daughter’s expectant face—”a bag of lemon drops.” 

Lily grinned and waited for her mother to count the money into her hand. “That should be enough. If he asks for more, don’t get the lemon drops.”

Lily’s hope drooped as she stuffed the money into her dress pocket. Her mother took her by the shoulders and turned her toward the door of their boarding house suite.

“Scoot, now! Be careful crossing the street.”

Lily walked out into the upper hall of the boarding house, ran down the stairs to the foyer, and skipped out the front door. It was a hot, sunny day in June, and the clatter of buggies rolling by on the street mixed with the clop of horse’s hooves and the yells of other children playing in the street.

Lily paused on the wooden sidewalk outside their family’s boarding house. They were strangers in town, just visiting on her Pa’s business, and she didn’t know anybody, but it was a busy town to be right on the edge of the Indian Territories. 

Which was the same thing as saying, the edge of the world.

The town mercantile was on the other side of the street and only three blocks down. Still, the traffic in front of their boarding house was so thick that Lily decided to go down the sidewalk a block or two and cross where it was less dangerous. She set off down the wooden sidewalk, and as soon as she was out of sight of the boarding house, she yanked her strings loose and swept the bonnet off her head. She felt better instantly, and she swung the bonnet in her hand as she skipped along.

The buildings in town were pretty close together, with only an alley between: the boarding house, then a feed and seed with sacks of meal outside the door, and a cafe that smelled good, like somebody was baking bread inside.

She turned all the way around as she passed the bakery door, and she was still walking backward as she crossed the alley beside the bakery.

“Hey!”

She shrieked in fright as hands grabbed her from behind. Grimy fingers clamped over her mouth to prevent her from screaming again. Lily twisted and scratched as she was dragged backward into the alley. She rolled terrified eyes. She was surrounded by five men with gunny sacks over their heads, and she only saw their eyes shining through cut-out holes. They looked like evil scarecrows, and she screamed into the dirty palm clamped over her mouth.

“Shut up or I’ll plug you!” 

One of the scarecrows pulled a revolver and jammed it to her head, and Lily froze and gasped for air. Her throat suddenly closed and she couldn’t breathe.

A man tied a blindfold around her eyes and a nasty rag around her mouth as another pulled her arms behind her back. Her heart pounded so fast against her ribs the world went gray, and she almost fell.

The pain of cords biting into her wrists yanked her back to attention. Somebody was pulling the collar of her dress, and she was being hustled along with her hands tied behind her back. She sobbed into her gag as the brutal hands yanked her to an abrupt stop.

She could hear and smell horses, and a voice from somewhere above her grunted, “Give her to me.”

Lily screamed as somebody grabbed her and tossed her up on a horse. New hands clamped around her, and she was aware there was a man in the saddle behind her. She could smell body odor and tobacco, and her stomach turned.

“Let’s ride!”

Her horse bounded off, followed by many others. Lily screamed into the gag as she bounced to one side then another. She was jounced and jostled over the horse’s neck as it weaved back and forth through the streets. The only thing holding her on the horse was her own knees and the man sitting behind her.

The horse stopped turning and straightened out, like they’d come out of the alleys and were riding out of town on a plain dirt road. After about ten minutes of hard riding, the horse veered to the left, and Lily felt twigs slap her cheek and heard water.

There was a sudden loud clatter, like they were riding over a covered bridge all together, and the din was so loud it hurt her ears. Then they were back on the dirt again, straight on for a long way.

The sound of other horses was all around her, and Lily gasped under the gag as a cloud of dust billowed up into her face. She doubled up coughing and closed her eyes until it blew away.

She retreated inside herself, trying to become as small as she could. 

They rode on and on, like a nightmare that wouldn’t end. Lily thought it couldn’t get worse, until it did.

A coarse voice yelled out above the sound of the horses, shouting, “What’s that? What’s that coming toward us?”

The man behind Lily screamed, “Indians!” There was a violent fumbling behind her back, like he was scrabbling for a gun. A series of loud pops at her ear made her scream in earnest and lean down over the horse’s neck. The whine and pop of gunfire exploded all around her, punctuated by curses, the dizzying movement of her horse circling around and around, and ragged screams that Lily had only heard of in scary stories.

Indian war cries!

“Yi-yi-yi-yi-ye-ayy!”

Lily felt the man behind her scream and jerk like he was shot, and the saddle behind her was suddenly empty as he fell. Lily gasped in panic, because there was no one to control her horse, and it bounded away. She had to clap her knees against its sides and lean down to keep from tumbling off its back. 

“Yee-ay-ay-ay-ay-ay!”

Their Indian attackers shrieked in triumph. There was another gunshot, very close, and the horse jerked beneath Lily, screamed, and toppled to the ground. She was flung onto the prairie, rolled over and over, and landed face down in the grass.

Lily sobbed into the dirt. She’d never heard a grown man cry before, but men were crying all around her: sobbing, screaming horrible screams like she’d never imagined.

“God help me, I’m killed!”

“Oh, my head, my head!”

“I won’t give ‘em the pleasure, blast ‘em to Hell!” The words were punctuated by a sudden pop, and another scream of agony that was cut short. A flurry of gunshots exploded all around, and the sound of Indian yells got louder and closer.

“Yey-aiii-eee! Yip yip yip!”

Lily froze in terror. Indians were attacking, savages who scalped women and helpless little babies. She held her breath and played dead as the world around her got suddenly, terribly quiet. There were no more sobs or screams, no groans of pain, no more gunshots. 

But gradually her straining ears caught another sound: the soft sound of walking feet approaching through the grass. She closed her eyes and held her breath as the footsteps paused beside her, then moved on.

Lily lay perfectly still and listened with all her concentration. The sound of footsteps was further away now, and she heard the distant mumble of voices talking, but they were Indian voices, and she couldn’t understand what they said.

“Wa-zhe-he-ska u-we-hno?”

“He-tha-he.”

Curiosity slowly overcame her fear, and slowly, slowly, she rubbed her face against the ground until the blindfold rolled off. But what she saw terrified her even more than the sounds: painted Indians, twenty braves standing a few dozen yards away. They had long black hair plaited into braids, they’d stuck feathers and other outlandish things into their hair and their clothes, they were half-naked, and they were holding the guns and horses of the men they’d just killed.

Lily panted in terror as one of them looked up and saw her. He was holding a long axe with feathers floating from it, and she watched those feathers in horrified fascination as they came closer and closer.

She closed her eyes and prayed to God: Oh Lord, it’s the end! Please let it be quick!

The sound of footsteps came close, and closer, and right up to her ear. There was a soft rustling, as if the Indian was crouching down beside her. Then a clear voice spoke to her in English. She was so surprised she almost opened her eyes.

“I saw you move. I know you’re alive.”

At that, Lily did open one eye. She looked up fearfully and stammered, “A-are you going to kill me?”

The young man wasn’t much older than she was, about Walt’s age. He tilted his head to one side and seemed to weigh her in his mind. The breeze sent his straight black hair fluttering. 

“No, I don’t think so,” he said at last. “I will take you home to my mother. She always wanted a girl.”

He bent down and snapped the ropes around her wrists, and Lily pushed herself to a sitting position. She pulled her hair out of her eyes and glared at her young captor.

“I don’t want to go see your mother. I want to go back home!”
To her frowning dismay, the young man didn’t reply. He helped her to her feet, took her hand, and led her to where the others were standing. They stared at her curiously as the young man helped her onto one of the horses. 

When she looked around, Lily saw all the men who’d kidnapped her dead and splayed out in the dirt. Their masks had been snatched off their heads and were lying crumpled on the ground. Some of the dead men were face down, others were lying with their arms out, staring up at the sky. A couple had gash wounds in their heads that made Lily’s mouth drop open and her stomach churn.

She closed her eyes, swallowed, and settled into the saddle. When she opened her eyes again, she kept them on the prairie ahead. 

But the Indians were still staring at her as if she was some kind of oddity, and she didn’t feel safe at all. She was afraid to scream and afraid to cry, though she wanted to do both.

She wanted her mother. 

The Indian man who’d talked to her jumped up onto a horse. He glanced over his shoulder and called to the others. 

“Inena!”

He kicked his horse, and it took off. The others soon followed, and Lily’s mount started without her. She was carried along in the middle of the flying Indian horses and the stolen horses, all galloping wildly over the plain.

 

Chapter Two

“Thomas, what time is it?”

Thomas Holstead set his newspaper down, pulled his watch out of his vest pocket, and consulted it. “It’s…two-thirty.”

Evangeline Holstead frowned and walked to the window of their boarding house room. She pulled the lace curtains back and searched the street below. “I sent Lily to the store thirty minutes ago. What could be keeping her?”

Her husband picked up a newspaper and turned the page. “You know how Lily is,” he replied comfortably. “She’s already forgotten what we sent her for and is climbing something, or playing hopscotch, or making mud pies in the street. She’ll be back directly, don’t worry.”

Evangeline’s worried eyes moved down the street. “Still and all,” she replied softly. “It shouldn’t take her this long to pick up a few notions and come back. The store’s only a few blocks away.”

“Maybe the shopkeeper gave her some candy,” Thomas mumbled absently, and turned the page again. “Or some little toy to play with. It’ll be all right.”

“I hope so,” Evangeline murmured, but her tone was worried, and her brow furrowed. “I don’t like her to be running around a strange town all by herself.”

“Well, if it worries you that much, why don’t you go down there and get her?”

Evangeline let the curtain drop. “I think I will. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Her husband’s reply was a noncommittal murmur. She pursed her lips in exasperation and gave him an irritated glance as she picked up her bag and passed him.

She paused in the doorway. “If I don’t come back, be sure to come looking, Thomas.”

“Mm-hm.”

Evangeline walked out of the room and swept down the hall so briskly that a breeze eddied behind her. A little voice inside her was urging her to go find Lily, and it was getting louder with every step she took. 

She hurried downstairs, out the front door, and down the porch steps. Their boarding house was on the main street through town, and she launched out into the road, weaving around wagons rattling past. She gained the other side of the street and hurried down the wooden sidewalk to the mercantile.

The little bell over the door tinkled as she entered, and she scanned the dim, narrow store with anxious eyes. There was a bald shopkeeper behind the big counter, a middle-aged woman talking to him, and…no one else that she could see.

The little voice in her heart started to shout, and Evangeline rushed to the big counter and broke in on the conversation.

“Excuse me, sir—have you seen my daughter Lily? I sent her here a half-hour ago. She’s eight years old. Long red hair.”

Both the clerk and the woman turned to look at her. To Evangeline’s dismay, the clerk shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am, I haven’t seen any little girl like that today. Only my regulars.”

Panic jumped up in Evangeline’s chest, and she tried to control her voice as she replied, “Are you…are you sure you haven’t seen her? Maybe she didn’t come inside the store. Maybe she waited outside?”

The look of pity in the man’s eyes only amplified her fear. “No ma’am, I’m sorry. There’s been no little redheaded…”

Evangeline turned on the words and charged outside. She paused on the sidewalk outside the store and searched the busy street with her eyes. Lily had to be somewhere. A child as redheaded as her daughter couldn’t just disappear. 

She clasped her hands together and wracked her brain for places Lily might’ve gone. The aroma of baking bread wafted to her from across the street, and Evangeline hiked up her skirts and marched over to the bakery there. The smell of baked goods would surely be a magnet for a child.

She rushed inside, fighting the urge to raise her voice as she hurried to the counter. A plump, red-cheeked woman looked up as she approached.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. How can I help you?”

Evangeline closed her eyes and forced herself to recite her story again. “I’m looking for my daughter. She’s eight years old, a little redheaded girl. Have you seen her?”

The woman’s expression went blank for an instant, then brightened. “Why yes, I think I did see her.”

Relief flooded Evangeline, and she almost slumped against the counter. “Where is she?”

A slight frown clouded the woman’s brow. “Oh, I don’t know, ma’am. I saw her pass by outside. She stood out there for a minute like she was going to come into the shop, but then she walked on.”

Evangeline put a hand to her stomach, because it felt like it was going to drop out. “Which way did she go?”

The woman pointed to the left. “Down the street,” she replied. “Sorry I can’t help you more.”

“Thank you.”

Evangeline hurried back outside to search the street again. She scanned every face, turned this way and that to look. There was no sign of Lily anywhere, and she stifled a sob and put a hand to her mouth. She was wasting time going from shop to shop.

She picked up her skirts and flew for the boarding house at a dead run. Passersby stared at her as she ran, but she hardly noticed them. A sob was building in her throat, and she didn’t want to humiliate herself on the street.

She took the boarding house steps two at a time and darted up the staircase. She pounded on their door and swept in as soon as her husband opened the door.

He frowned at her. “What on earth—”

Her face twisted in grief. “Lily’s gone!” 

“What are you talking about? You mean she wasn’t at the store?”

Evangeline shook her head tearfully. “The man at the counter said he hadn’t seen her at all. The woman at the bakery said she walked past but didn’t stop. I can’t find her. Oh, Thomas, I’m terrified!”
Her husband reached for her, patted her back. “Don’t distress yourself, Eva. We’ll find her. You stay here. I’ll go get the sheriff. We’ll find her.”

Evangeline nodded and pressed a handkerchief to her mouth as she sank into a chair. “Hurry,” she wept. “I won’t have an instant of peace until we find her!”
Thomas shouldered into his jacket and reached for his hat. “I may not be back for a while,” he told her. “Try to be calm, darling.”

Evangeline raised her head to watch him go, then bent over her handkerchief and wept.