swallowed hard and began dying a slow death inside when the conversations began and grew more heated as each moment passed.
Nothing was in the Indiansâ favor.
Leonida grimaced as she listened to the debate between the two factions of men, Kit Carson and Sage now the main speakers.
Kitâs voice became measured and calculated.
Sageâs became cold, his face grim with anger as he rose to his full height over the circle of men, towering over Kit, who moved over to stand next to him as their debate heated up even more.
Leonida smiled, somehow pleased that Sage was so much taller than Kit. It was a well-known fact that he was the runt of fourteen Carson children, and when he was sitting down he always tried to conceal his short legs.
âDamn it, Sage,â Kit said in his soft-spoken way. âYou know Iâve always been sympathetic to Indians. But now Iâve got to think of the settlers. The settlements and ranches are being raided. Caravans are being plundered. Travelers are being killed. To stop the raids, all Indians must be transferred out of the territory, even the Navaho.â
âYou know that the Navaho do not go to war as a whole nation,â Sage said, angrily folding his arms across his powerful chest. âIt is the renegades who raid. There is no central Navaho government, and the chiefs speak only for their tiny bands.â He paused, then added more softly, âSage has never wanted trouble with whites,â he said solemnly. âSageâs heart has been good toward the whites. So has Sageâs peopleâs heart.â
Kit Carson shifted his feet nervously and stroked his clean-shaven chin in contemplation before responding, the fringe of his buckskin shirt and breeches blowing in the gentle breeze. Then Kit placed a fist over his heart, as though to prove to Sage that his heart was good also.
âSage, you know that not long ago I was an Indian agent at Taos when escaped convicts, thugs, and outlaws of every description were pouring into the West,â he said softly. âThere the laws were few and the enforcement agencies fewer. You know that then I was as determined to protect the Indians from the whites as to protect whites from Indians. When a white man injured an Indian, he had Kit Carson to deal with, and that dealing was sharp and to the point.â
Harold, dressed in full uniform, got hurriedly to his feet and interrupted just as Sage was about to respond. With an even and impersonal voice, he stamped over to Kitâs side and glared down at him. âGet on with it, damn it,â he said. âWe didnât come here to play footsie with the Indians. Tell them exactly why they have been brought here.â
Harold peered up at the blazing sun and wiped beads of perspiration from his brow. He wiped his damp fingers on his breeches leg, glaring down at Kit again. âDamn it, Kit, why drag it out to ungodly lengths?â he said, his voice drawn. âIâd like to get out of this damn sun.â
Kitâs face became hot with anger as he glared back. âIâve been brought here to handle this matter,â he said icily. âAnd I will do it at my own pace and in my own way. If you donât approve, wire Washington about it. Until you get a response, though, and perhaps a replacement, I will deal with this problem as I see fit.â
Haroldâs face tightened and his lips pursed angrily. He glared for a moment longer down at Kit, then swung around and moved in measured steps away from him, his eyes shifting momentarily to Leonida. He flinched when he found Leonida smiling devilishly up at him, having obviously enjoyed Kitâs reprimanding him. His eyes narrowed as he paused long enough to stare at the Indian necklace that she wore so boldly around her neck.
There had been only one wayâthe damned Navaho leader. The thought of them being alone together made him grow cold inside with rage. He vowed to himself that