Bill Dugan_War Chiefs 04 Read Free Page A

hate
being
chief.”
    “It is what you wanted ever since you were a little boy. I used to watch you, then. Remember running around with your face all painted up, sneaking into tipis and scaring the life out of the old women with your shrieking? You even stole my uncle’s horse one time.”
    “That was nothing. Just something I did so you would notice me.”
    “How could I not notice you? You were everywhere. No matter which way I turned, there you were. And everybody teased me about it.”
    “That isn’t why they teased you.” He knelt closer, his eyes on her face, as if searching for something.
    “Why, then?”
    “Because they knew how much you wanted me to follow you, and you all the time complaining when there I was, doing exactly what you wanted me to do. They saw through you. They knew just what you were up to.”
    “Who? Who knew?”
    “Everyone.” Nocona reached out and cupped her chin in one hand, then leaned forward and brushed her forehead with his lips. Then he straightened up and got to his feet.
    “Be careful,” she said. “And come home as soon as you can.”
    He didn’t answer. Bending to retrieve the quiver, he pushed aside the entrance flap and slipped out of the tipi into the bright sunlight. He grabbed his war shield from its stand beside the tipi, took a lance and swung up onto the back of his favorite war pony. He had already cut a second horse from the herd for the long trail into Mexico. The rest of the warriors were already on their mounts, some even sprinting them back and forth on the edge of the village to give them a second wind. They would ride hard for the first day, then make a more deliberate pace all the way to the Rio Grande.
    Pushing his pony with his knees, the war rope coiled in his fist, Nocona made his way to the raiding party. The warriors saw him coming and started waving their bows and lances in the air, shaking their shields and yipping. They were anxious to get on the move. Or so it appeared. Hewondered whether any of the others were as ambivalent as he was.
    He had never discussed his own concerns with any of the other warriors, not even with Black Snake, his closest friend. It wasn’t because he was afraid Black Snake would think him a coward, but because it was a chief’s responsibility to lead his men, and you could not lead men who knew you were uncertain about where you were leading them, or whether you ought to be leading them at all. So he had swallowed his doubts, let them chew at his insides, and kept his own counsel. Even when he became chief, he knew, it was not something he would discuss. Perhaps especially not then.
    Black Snake, riding a pinto daubed with stripes of bright red and yellow, rode forward to meet him.
    “White Heron didn’t want to let you go?” he asked, grinning broadly.
    “You’re only saying that because you wish your wife tried as hard to keep you at home,” Nocona said.
    “If my wife looked like White Heron, she wouldn’t have to try hard at all to keep me at home. She would have to drive me out of the lodge with a lance.”
    Nocona waved a derisive hand. “You love raiding the Mexicans more than you love life itself. You wouldn’t stay at home willingly, even if you had a handful of White Herons in your tipi.”
    “A handful of White Herons would send me off to meet the Great Spirit.” Black Snake smiled. “That would be the only place I could sleep.”
    “Are we ready?”
    Black Snake nodded. Like Nocona, he was a subchief, and highly regarded by most of the warriors. “We’re ready. Are you all right?”
    “Yes, why?”
    “I don’t know. It seems like you have something on your mind. Something heavy. Are you angry that I teased you about White Heron?”
    “It is not the first time you have teased me about such things. Why would it make me angry now?”
    Black Snake shook his head. “If you’re sure you’re all right, then we should go. It is a long way to Mexico, and the warriors are anxious to get