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The following is an excerpt from OSAGE DAWN
Blackman led them, running fast. Matt had cautioned him twice to slow down, lest he miss something along the trail.
If the renegades turned away from the path, he didn't want to miss it.
They were traveling parallel to the main trail and spread out to avoid being ambushed again. It was nearing evening and
the light starting to fail. They needed to find some sign soon, or regroup and decide which direction to take.
One choice would be to leave Abby for another night in the renegade camp. Matt's mind turned cold when he thought of
what might happen in the camp when darkness fell. He kept trying to imagine what Abby would look like now, how pretty she
would be and how much she had grown. Try as he would, the only picture he could conjure up went back to the young girl at
the river.
"Hsssst."
Matt's head jerked up and he saw Blackman had stopped. He caught Franklin's attention and motioned for him to join them.
Blackman put his head close to the others. "River ahead. Big spring and campsite." He led them to a patch
of soft earth next to the path. Pointing to the tracks, he said. "See? Different moccasins. Different tribes, all
traveling together. It has to be the renegades."
Matt thought a moment. "Alright. We'll stay together. If we're attacked, we don't want to be split up."
Crawling to the edge of the basin, hidden by low-lying brush, they suddenly could hear the sound of rushing water that
had been masked by the hills.
Matt wondered distractedly how Blackman had heard what he and Franklin had not.
Cool air rose to their faces from the basin below, coming off the icy water in the river. Inching quietly forward until
he could see into the small valley, Matt watched the camp with a practiced eye, relying on his friends to watch his back.
The glade below bustled with activity as the band of renegades set about making camp. As Matt searched the camp for signs
of Abby, he watched small fires being made quickly. The warriors seemed to split up on their own volition to the five fires
they'd made. Several had caught fish in the river, and as they watched, another warrior walked into camp bearing a small
deer on his shoulders.
Matt watched the renegades. There was something missing. The Indian carrying the deer walked past the fires to deposit
his kill by the last one. No one spoke to him. There wasn't the joking and kidding around prevalent in other Indian camps.
No one seemed to care what the others were doing. Still searching, Matt had the thought it might be to their advantage if
no one was interested in the others.
Finally, on the far right hand side of the clearing, he saw a woman bound to a tree. Pulling his spyglass from its pouch,
he focused on the girl. It was nearing darkness, and the vision through the glass was not much better than normal eyesight,
but he could tell she was crying by her shaking shoulders. As he watched, she raised her head and looked about her. Matt's
breath caught in his throat. Abby! Abby . . .
He silently admonished himself for wondering if he would recognize her after four years. The snapping black eyes and
fair complexion, skin smooth and unblemished, there was no doubt who she was. His eyes traveled the length of her body and
he cursed softly as he noted how bloody and dirty she looked.
Franklin came up and crouched on his left, with Blackman on his right. It was Franklin who voiced it. "It's goin'
to be a real bitch gettin' her out of there."
Matt didn't answer for a moment. Finally . . . "I got it to do, boys. I can't just leave her down there."
After some hesitation, he continued. "I'll sneak in tonight. If I take it real slow, I can time it when they are
all asleep. But, I have to start now to make it. You boys cover me from here. Watch my back and give me a place to run
to if I get in trouble."
Franklin was starting to protest the plan when Blackman slapped Matt on the shoulder, pointing toward the camp.
One of the Indians had detached himself from a group and started walking toward the captive girl. Matt slowly started
to bring his long rifle forward. Franklin caught his arm and held it.
"Not now, Matt. You'll only get her killed.
As they watched, the Osage pulled Abby to her feet. Matt's eyes quickly scanned the camp. His mouth made a grim line
as he counted nearly fifty men.
Matt's attention snapped back to the captive girl as an angry scream ripped through the quiet forest. The Osage warrior
methodically slapped her face back and forth as he untied her from the tree. Matt surged to his feet and was immediately
thrown to earth by his friends. He struggled fruitlessly against them, but couldn't take his eyes off the scene below.
The Indian had quit beating her, holding her erect with one hand while his other ran over her breasts and hips. A few
warriors wandered over to them, but beat a hasty retreat at a barked order from the Osage. As the men on the hill watched,
the Osage threw her to the ground.
Matt still struggled to rise. Blackman sat across his legs and Franklin remained across his shoulders, one hand gripped
in Matt's hair, the other holding his mouth. As they struggled, Franklin whispered in his ear.
"Settle down, boy," he whispered urgently. "You take it. You got to take it! Just like she does. He
ain't killin' her, boy. She'll be hurt, but she will still be alive. All she is trying to do is stay alive. If you're going
to help her, you got to be alive, too."
"Matt, you go chargin' down there, and we'll be right behind you. You know we will!" Franklin spaced out the
last words. "And Matt, we'll . . . all . . . be . . . killed!"
Then, much softer, in an emotion choked voice, he whispered. "Just hang on, boy. You just hang on . . ."
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