Joe was brooding. Adam knew the signs well. He watched his little brother pacing backwards and forwards in the small embankment, his head down and his teeth gnawing at the thumbnail between his lips.

On Adam's arrival back at the wooded enclosure where they had secreted themselves, he had found Joe sitting with Hoss, looking somewhat pleased with himself. Hanska had risen to his feet in a seamless flow, eager to hear news of what had occurred with Matwau. But Adam had ignored him and walked straight to Joe, dropping to his heels in front of him. At the news the Ute were in the fort, and most particularly that a woman and child were part of the group, Adam had dropped his head briefly as relief flooded through him. He had squeezed Joe's knee in thanks before rising, suddenly weary, to his feet. He had wanted nothing more than to lie down and close his eyes, if only for a few moments. But Hanska had pressed him to speak of Matwau, eager to hear of Adam's encounter. On learning of Matwau's betrayal, Hanska's face had darkened with rage and he'd spat sharply. The three Ute had turned as though heading to their horses but Adam had stayed them in their tracks when he bluntly told them Matwau was dead. Hanska's growing rage had immediately evaporated. And after a brisk nod to Adam, he had sat back down, the subject closed.

Knowing the Ute were being taken in the direction of Boyd's Creek meant there was no need to trail the column to wherever they were being taken. Instead it was decided to ride ahead of them and then rescue the Ute when the time was right. However, there was one part of the plan Joe objected to.

"What is it, Joe?" It was difficult to hide the tired tone in Adam's voice.

Joe's pacing continued until he came to a halt with his back to the small group of men. He turned and walked stiff-legged over to Adam, his gaze fixed on the ground as he approached.

"Your plan…" Joe trailed off, anger threatening to consume his ability to piece a sentence together.

"The plan is agreed—"

"Your plan is lousy!"

"We've been over this again and again."

"You have Adam, but I never agreed to it!"

"There is no other way to—"

"There is no other way because you won't let us help you. You'll let them," he pointed towards the small knot of Indians who were seated calmly on the hard earth, "but not me and Hoss. You're leaving us out in the cold."

Adam rose easily to his feet and in two quick paces he was in front of Joe. His voice dropped to a low, insistent tone, indicative of the frustration simmering below the surface.

"Joe, if I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times. We're going up against the army. If you're caught you'll end up in one of the cells at that fort back there and they won't look too kindly on someone who is helping to set a bunch of Indians loose. You'll be up in front of a judge and locked up for who knows how long. Maybe worse. I can't...I won't...risk something like that happening to you."

"I'm not a little kid who needs to be mollycoddled."

"I'm not mollycoddling you; I'm keeping you out of harm's way."

"It's the same thing!" Joe glared deeply into his brother's eyes before breaking away. "We can help." Joe implored in a voice so low it was almost a whisper.

Adam grabbed his little brother's upper arms. "You will be helping. By staying out of sight, by keeping a watch on what's going on. And if anything should happen to me, or any of the others, then you get Kia and my daughter away." Adam's grip was painful on Joe's arms. "I'm relying on you, Joe. You get my family away and you keep them safe, you hear me?"

The side of Joe's mouth twitched, and he nodded. He brought his forearms up to grasp his brother's. "I hear you."

Adam breathed a sigh of relief and briefly let his head fall limp on his neck. With a slap on Joe's cheek he turned to the rest of the men. "Okay, let's move. They're gonna head for Boyd's Creek so we know the route they'll be on. We get ahead of them, we get the lay of the land and we stay hidden." He paused and looked towards his Indian friends. He addressed them in Ute. "And then we'll get our people back."

xxxxxxx

The men awoke two mornings later when the new day was but a few hours old. It was gloomy in the rocky clearing where the men had made their camp the previous day; the only light issued from the tiny fire built into a hastily built hole in the ground. The sky was an oppressive black shroud alive with a swirling grey mass of cloud that blocked the fading stars from their view.

It had taken a day and a half for the small group to reach a rocky, steep-sided canyon. The trail they hoped the soldiers would take snaked through the canyon for a good quarter mile. It was the most direct way from the fort to Boyd's Creek and all hopes were pinned on the army using the easiest and quickest course. The top of the canyon was a jumble of boulders and rocks which provided ample hiding places for themselves and their horses. After they had secured their animals they had settled down to watch the road as it stretched out behind them.

Adam had been unable to relax. He was usually the calmest member of a posse or hunting gang. But not this time. Too much was at stake for him to be able to sit and patiently wait. He couldn't slow his breathing and his chest rose and fell quickly as the minutes, then an hour and then several hours passed. His leg jiggled with nervous energy as time seemed to drag. He had almost given up hope and had dropped his head into his hands in despair that they had picked the wrong route when Akando, who had been picketed further up the canyon, made Adam jump by appearing silently at his side. He pointed down the trail. It was hard to make out, but there on the horizon was a cloud of dust which was steadily moving towards them. After several minutes when it seemed as though all time and movement had slowed to a crawl—during which Adam's taut body had leaned towards the distant dust-cloud, his eyes straining to see—a caravan of slow-moving wagons appeared. There were three of them, each pulled by a team of four mules, and each wagon canopy was marked with two letters—US.

Adam let out a puff of relief. However, he couldn't keep from frowning. He had expected to see wagons, but was surprised that he couldn't see the Ute Indians walking besides them. His heart sank. Did this mean they'd followed the wrong transport?

As the wagon train moved nearer, they ducked their heads to the ground, or behind the rocks, to stay hidden. Adam edged himself a few inches forward to try and make out what—or who—was in the wagons.

The first wagon was manned by two soldiers, sitting up high on the wagon's seat. The driver, as lead muleteer guiding the train, had his eyes pinned on the road, for where he led, the others would follow. His mate scanned the rocks and trees, always alert for any trouble. What was in their wagon, Adam wouldn't know until it had passed beneath them, so he moved his gaze to the middle wagon.

This vehicle was flanked by two men on horseback and that immediately raised Adam's interest. The muleteer sat straight-backed whilst his companion looked as though he was sitting on a knife-edge. The guard's head flicked towards the slightest movement and he kept his rifle grasped tightly to his chest. Adam wondered how sweaty the man's palms were as they clutched the rifle's stock and barrel as though it were a lifeline. Adam was sure this was the wagon that held his family. As he watched it move beneath him, he found one of his hands unconsciously scratching at the tattoo etched on to his upper chest. He didn't need confirmation of what was in there. He knew.

The final wagon was suddenly unimportant to him, but Adam couldn't help but notice the two men who sat in the wagon's seat. The driver sat slumped forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the reins held loosely between his legs. His companion was just as nonchalant; sitting back against the canopy support with his cap pulled low over his eyes. With a rifle nestled loosely in his lap, he was clearly not anticipating trouble of any sorts. Adam watched as one of the horsemen glanced backwards over his shoulder and then sharply wheeled his mount around to draw level with the two men. They were undoubtedly reprimanded. There was much hand-gesturing and pointing towards the surrounding country on the part of the horseman, and begrudgingly the two indolent men straightened up, pushed their caps back and made an effort to look more alert. As the man on horseback rode back to his position by the middle wagon, the driver spat into the road and made an obscene gesture which his companion laughed at.

Adam's attention was now drawn to the man who was apparently in charge. He sat easily in his saddle, and from the few moments Adam observed him he could tell he was a skilled horseman; his animal reacted to a slight touch of the knee, or flick of the wrist. It was as though they were welded together. But whether the authority he exerted on his horse reached his men was another matter. Having witnessed the demeaning gestures that had occurred when the man's back was turned Adam surmised he didn't hold a lot of respect with some of his men. It had been hard to tell from where he was, but he guessed the officer was a young man who had yet to learn how to deal with an older, and more experienced, recruit. The second horseman was an unknown quantity; he was more or less out of sight behind the middle wagon and Adam witnessed no interaction between him and the other men.

As the wagons passed beneath them, each man barely breathed, so vital was it that they not give away their position. As the wagons lumbered and creaked their way down the trail, Adam became aware of more heads popping up next to him, all straining to see what the convoy was carrying. The first wagon seemed to hold boxes and crates, as did the last wagon. But Adam's instincts about the middle wagon had been correct. The canopy flap had been loosely secured together to hide the contents, and it had flapped incessantly with the motion of the wagon. But as the train was edging around the trail and was about to move out of sight, a black-haired head edged the flap to one side briefly as if to take a gulp of air. The leading horseman barked a command at the figure who moved back into the confines of the interior; but it was enough. Adam now knew for certain the wagon was carrying a group of Indians, and his gut told him Kia and Mimiteh were among them.

As the train rolled around the bend in the track, Adam backed away from the canyon's edge and looked at his companions. His face held a look of grim determination and an underlying anger which smouldered in his dark olive eyes.

"It's them."

Joe frowned and moved forward onto one knee from where he was sitting back on his ankles. "How d'ya know? They could have anyone in the back of that wagon."

The itch on Adam's chest started to prickle again and he moved his hand up to scratch at the tattoo. He found the irritation on his skin strangely comforting. "Trust me, Joe, it's them."

Joe sat back and cast a wary glance at Hoss. But Hoss's eyes were glazed, his pupil's twitching as he starred into space, a frown drawing his eyebrows low.

Adam could see that Joe doubted his certainty but he was too focused on what lay ahead to waste his breath convincing his doubting Thomas of a brother. Though, in Joe's place, Adam knew he'd be feeling exactly the same. Adam had offered no proof, simply his word. No white man would believe him if he told that an animal spirit guide was leading him towards Wanekia; that his tingling tattoo was a sign from the great bison. So he had chosen not to offer an explanation. Instead he looked towards Hoss who had shifted forward slightly and was opening his mouth to speak. Adam felt grateful for Hoss's unknowing intervention into a conversation he didn't want to have.

"Why were they in a wagon? Pa said when the militia moved the Cherokees to Indian Territory they made 'em walk at gunpoint."

"I don't know, Hoss, but something isn't right. They're being kept hidden for a reason."

"Why would they hide them? The army's never made a secret of when they're moving Indians to reservations. Dadburnit, most of the time they're proud of the fact."

"Whatever the army's intention, it's all the more imperative that we get them outta there and back where they belong."

Hoss's countenance lightened. "I counted eight o' them and there's six of us. We can do this, we can get your little gal back." Hoss was unable to keep the grin from his lips. "We'll give those meddlin' low-down critters what for." The three Ute warriors shared Hoss's grin, nodding to themselves at the prospect of the up-and-coming scrap. But Adam didn't share their enthusiasm. He turned to the Ute and spoke directly to them in their language.

"No killing."

Hanska's expression darkened. "You cannot ask us to keep from slaying the white dogs who have taken our people." He shifted onto one knee and leaned in towards Adam. "These are the devils who took your own wife and child! They should be left to die slowly on the burning sands with their guts open for the desert rats to feed on!" Hanska's nostrils flared as he snarled his words at Adam. The knife from his sheath was suddenly in his hand but he turned it inwards towards his own stomach and with a slash downwards intimated what he would do to the soldiers if he laid his hands on them. "I would cut out the heart of each man and eat it while he watched!" He jumped to his feet and in his rage hurled the knife end-over-end into a lone pine that had managed to seed itself on the barren rock; the blade buried itself deep in the trunk as Hanska turned from the small huddle of men.

Adam leapt to his feet and pulled the irate Ute around to face him, his eyes blazing streaks. "And so it goes on. They take our people, so we kill them in retaliation." Adam wasn't aware he was instinctively referring to himself as Ute; that his own brothers could now be termed as 'them'. "And then what will the army do? They'll come after us again and again, until there are no more Ute left to..." Adam dropped his head and turned away briefly, unable to look at the fiery warrior before him. But after a few moments during which he could feel Hanska's gaze boring into him, he reached out his hand and cupped the man's neck, pulling him closer.

"Hanska, my friend, think of the river flowing beneath the high village; of standing for hours waiting for fat trout to swim beneath our feet and then flicking them out of the water on to the bank. And our wives frying them with sunflower seeds until the smell would tempt everyone to the fire, their mouths watering and hungry to eat. Remember the joy of the hunt, high above the village; of stalking a lean mule deer and taking it down with a single shot. The village would eat well for days after. And think of our children, able to run free along the river and in the forest and through the lowland valleys, learning the skills needed to be a warrior. It'll all be gone, Hanska, gone. If we start a war with the army, they'll hunt us down and make us live on a barren reservation, away from the ancestral hunting grounds, away from the life-giving water and the shelter of the trees." Adam's hand gripped Hanska's neck tightly. "It's why we can't kill the men who have our people."

Adam let go of Hanska and turned to the rest of the party, addressing them all in his own English tongue. "We don't kill them. We go in, get our people; with any luck without them even knowing we were there. But if we have to, we knock them out, tie them up, whatever we need to do. But we don't kill."

"But, Adam, what'll happen if they capture you or one o' ya fellas there? I cain't see them as being so forgivin'. And you say you don't want me and Little Joe caught; but what about you?"

"Well, I'll just have to make sure they don't catch me, won't I?"

He turned back towards Hanska, reverting easily back to the Ute language. "Those men down there, they have our people. And I know you want to hurt them. But we kill them and we'll have more deaths on our hands than just those soldiers."

He was met with silence and glares from the angry warriors; so keen were they to earn another symbol on their body to mark the death of an enemy. Joe and Hoss remained crouched against the hot earth, but it wasn't difficult to read the misgiving impressed upon their faces.

Adam stared around at each man in turn, and blew a harsh breath out through his nose. "We've discussed this enough. Let's get moving."

The buoyant mood of the group had been obliterated in an instant. The three Ute Indians wanted nothing more than to punish the people responsible for stealing away their loved ones. And if that punishment meant taking lives, then they had no qualms about doing so. And his brothers were understandably annoyed about being left out of the immediate fight. They wanted to back Adam up, to help him, and they felt being left on the sidelines was a mistake. Joe wanted proof the wagon train did indeed hold Adam's wife and child; and Hoss was fretting about the ramifications of what would follow after the scrap. Adam knew he was right, however, on all counts. He couldn't see beyond the approaching fight, but his mind was more than open to the potential consequences. Involving Hoss and Joe in the rescue could lead to them being tracked down by the army and severely penalised. But even more catastrophic would be to slay the soldiers like they were rats in a barrel. Adam would do anything to get his family back, but he certainly wasn't prepared to start a war. He could only hope that he had drummed it into the stubborn heads of his Ute friends that dispatching the soldiers to their maker would be an impending disaster.

xxxxxxx

In the subdued light of the early morning each man went about his business, lost in his private preparations for the task ahead. They were camped about a mile away from where the army transport had bivouacked for the night. The small group of Indians had spent the previous evening in prayer. With the need to stay unnoticed by the wagon train, the Ute had been unable to pray to the spirits with the full passion and energy they would otherwise have done. The chanting and drumming they desired was instead supplanted by quiet intense prayers around the campfire. Adam and his brothers had stayed hidden in the darkness, observing the rituals. Unbeknownst to Hoss and Joe, Adam had also prayed to the spirits. The night was so complete, they couldn't see him close his eyes and repeat the quietly spoken prayers of his Indian companions.

As Hoss quietly cleaned up the camp, Joe sat in the light of the dim fire, checking his rifle and ammunition. He might not be able to join in the actual rescue, but he sure as dammit was going to be ready for anything that might occur. He noticed Adam wander off with the Ute in the direction of the burgeoning sunrise. The sun was still hidden behind the distant hills, though a grey light preceded its arrival. Joe noticed that Adam was clutching his saddle bags as he followed the Indians behind a muddle of fallen boulders. He frowned, wondering what fresh surprise his brother had up his sleeve.

Joe was still struggling. He had been reunited, against all odds, with his lost brother. But he might as well have been brought together with a stranger. There were times when the old Adam shone through: a familiar look in his eyes; the way he had of squeezing the bridge of his nose when he was irritated, or plain amused; the slow way he would raise a cup to his lips with both hands and gently raise the vessel to drink. Oh yes, the Adam he knew was still there. But Joe could also see that Adam had been altered by his time with the Ute. He had been so closed off at first, clearly consumed with emotions he was unwilling to share. Then, as his brother seemed to be slowly returning to them, they had arrived in the Ute village, and Adam had changed before his eyes. Joe noticed a more openly demonstrative side to Adam. He exhibited an immediate warmth towards the villagers that had been largely lacking in his interactions with his brothers in the days leading up to their arrival at the village. Joe couldn't help but feel hurt, and, if he was to honestly admit it, he felt a little left out.

He stayed beside the fire on the pretence of going over his weaponry one last time. In matter of fact, he was keeping a close eye on the boulders behind which Adam had disappeared, desperate to know what was going on there. His attention was caught briefly by the arrival of Hoss, who had been saddling their horses. He hunkered down next to Joe, his hands held out to the fire to combat the chill of the early morning.

"Adam's with the Indians, behind those rocks." Joe couldn't keep the bitterness from his voice as he nodded in the direction Adam had taken.

Hoss glanced over towards the boulders and back at Joe. He saw his little brother's eyebrows drawn low over his eyes; his forehead creased in a low simmering resentment towards…what? Hoss didn't know.

"Ah, Joe, would ya stop ya bellyaching. When are you gonna accept that Adam's not the same person he was two years ago. The sooner you accept it, the sooner…" Hoss's words trailed off, because walking towards him was his older brother, his beloved older brother. Only he wasn't looking at Adam anymore; he was looking at Liwanu.

The Ute warriors accompanying Adam had stripped away their clothing and now wore nothing more than their breechcloths and moccasins. They had painted their bodies and faces in bold yellow and black stripes. And, from the smell of it, they had applied horse fat to their hair to make it stand up in a display fearsome enough to put the fear of God into their enemies.

Adam—or was it now Liwanu—was exposed, from the waist up, to the chill morning air. He had changed into the deerskin leggings he'd been so loath to give up when reunited with his father. A row of brass tacks had been punched into the outer seam from hip to foot, and they glistened in the illumination from the tiny fire. He carried his boots in one hand; his feet now enshrouded by malleable and silent moccasins. Joe and Hoss stared in stunned astonishment as they saw for the first time how lean Adam had become whilst away from them. Gone were the heavy shoulder and back muscles and his once solid arms. It was now possible to make out the outline of his ribs and his once slightly curved abdomen was a hard, flat show of muscle. His arm muscles were long and sleek. But it wasn't the difference in his body which made Hoss and Joe gape. No, without knowing it, both were thinking the same thing: that there was nothing left of their brother in the man standing before them. Like the Ute, Adam's torso was streaked in thick black and yellow stripes. His bison head tattoo was a bold statement on the upper left of his chest. He had pulled his hair loose of the rawhide binding it together and his face was a fearsome mask of paint. A black band was smeared over his eyes and the whites of his eyes flashed in the grey light.

Joe's voice was soft. "Why, Adam?"

A hand adorned with thin black stripes came to rest on Joe's shoulder. "Remember what I told you, Joe. Nï'ara Nuuch. If I have to fight to get my family back, then I fight as a Ute."

He squeezed Joe's shoulder as he passed, pausing for an almost imperceptible moment, and turned towards the horses. The three Ute were already on horseback, and Adam mounted up with a light spring. Hoss glanced quickly at Joe and then followed Adam to the horses. Joe stood for a few more moments before moving to stamp out the fire. He no longer felt any anger. In its place he felt a crushing sadness envelop him. He knew now his brother was lost to them forever, and that this time there wasn't going to be a miraculous recovery.