Daniel moved through the dark woods silently. Mingo just ahead of him, paused and motioned him forward. A Choctaw brave lay at Mingo's feet.
"Is he dead?" Daniel asked.
"Almost. It looks like he was hit with a rock."
"She must've fought him off." He said.
Mingo reached out and squeezed Daniel's shoulder. "Rebecca's alive!"
Continuing forward they found the second brave with an arrow through his neck. He was dead.
Daniel smiled. "Good girl." He said. He knelt beside the brave and covered his face with his hands. For the first time in twenty-three days, he allowed himself a small glimmer of hope. "Well, she's got a bow and arrow, at least." He turned towards Mingo a few feet away.
Mingo was bent over looking at something on the ground. Daniel walked over to him, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.
"What is it?" He asked looking down.
"Footprints." Mingo said. "But they are bloody." Daniel looked down. Small footprints, not much bigger than a child's. Becky's.
He took off at a run. "She's hurt." He said. Mingo followed.
They hadn't gone more than a mile when they heard shouting and much to Daniel's relief a woman's voice -a familiar angry voice. He saw the warrior first, his bow raised ready to strike. He fired instantly and watched the man fall to the earth. Just beyond in the distance he could see a second brave running and just beyond him, a flash of red ducking behind the trees. He doubled his pace, reloading as he ran. Hefting Tick-licker to his shoulder he fired again. His aim was slightly to the right, and he hit him in his arm. The brave staggered angrily and dropped his bow, but not before he let the arrow fly. He turned as Daniel ran even with him. He reached across with his uninjured arm to strike out at Daniel, but Daniel raised his rifle cracking him across the face.
"Go, Daniel. I've got him." Mingo said as he came upon them.
Daniel ran ahead to where he'd last seen her. He had watched her fall, unsure if the arrow that had been shot had hit her or not. She was huddled on the ground. As he approached her, he could see that she been beaten, badly. He drew in his breath, shocked. She looked hurt. Her dress was filthy and torn. Her beautiful red hair was tangled and muddy. She scooted away from him, clutching her side, an arrow in her right arm. She didn't realize it was him, and said, "No, get away from me! Get away!" She reached out and grabbed a stick ready to fight even now. "Tarrthail! Tarrthail! Dan!" She cried out desperately, not realizing he was standing beside her. Terrified she lapsed into the language of her childhood.
"Sweetheart, Becky, It's alright." He said, "Rebecca. It's me." Her eyes grew wide, and filled with tears as his face registered.
"Dan?" She said hoarsely.
"Yes, hon. It's alright now." She dropped the stick, crying and he moved in closer. Pushing the hair away from her face, he kissed her. "It's alright now, mo sherc. I am here."
"The children? Are they. . ."
"The children are fine." He interrupted her reassuringly. "They are safe."
Turning to look at her arm, he said gruffly, through tears, "Woman, when are you gonna develop the good sense to get out of the way of an arrow?"
Remembering a time long ago, and smiling up at him she said, "I never read that part of the book." He kissed her again and said, "I gotta pull that arrow out. I'm sorry, darlin'. It's gonna hurt like the devil." She nodded. Carefully, he snapped the long end of the arrow off. She grimaced and with her good hand she clung to his wrist.
"Ready?" He asked her. She nodded. He hesitated, looking at her blue eyes. He reached out with his hand and gently touched her face. He hated causing her more pain. Pausing, he kissed her once more saying, "I'm sorry, hon." Then drawing a deep breath, he drove the arrow through her soft skin. She said nothing, only closing her eyes tightly while a few tears slipped out. He ripped a strip off what was left of her petticoat and wrapped her arm tightly. "I'm sorry, Becky."
She shook her head as tears spilled onto her cheeks. "It's fine. I'm fine." She said as much to herself as to him.
He looked at her. Her face was bruised and it was clear she had been hit over and over again. Always on the thin side, she looked like she'd lost 20 pounds, maybe more. She looked frail. Seeing him looking at her, she said, "I must look a mess." She reached up with her good hand and tried to straighten her hair.
He shook his head his voice thick with emotion he said, "Oh, Rebecca, you are the most beautiful thing, I've ever seen." He wept unashamed of his tears.
She smiled weakly and then said quietly, "I'm not sure I can walk any more. They cut my feet." The last sentence came out so soft, he could barely hear it and he watched her fight down tears.
He actually had to physically force himself to remain calm, as he fought down a rage that was near blinding. "Don't fret, none, love, I'll carry you." He said. "Its going to be alright, darlin'. I promise."
"I was waiting for you. I knew you were coming for me, but I had to run. I'm sorry." She said in a whisper. "I was so scared."
He held her in his arms now. Her head resting against him. Unable to speak he nodded. When he regained his composure, he said, "You rest now, 'Becca. I won't let anything happen to you." she held tightly to his hand and closed her eyes. Exhausted beyond measure, she was almost instantly asleep.
Daniel looked up at the sound of footsteps and saw Mingo approach.
"My God!" Mingo said looking at her. Daniel met his eyes and Mingo could see the rage just beneath the surface.
"She's in pretty bad shape." Daniel's voice sounded hollow and shaky. "Look at her feet." Her feet were a mass of cuts, bruised, bleeding and filthy. "They cut them, so she couldn't run off."
Mingo looked around. "We'd better take her up into those hills over there. They might send out a search party for their missing braves. We can find a cave or something for tonight. I'll build a sledge and we can get her home where Cincinatus can look after her. I'll find some wood for a sledge."
Daniel stopped him. "I can carry her. Let's get up in those hills quick. You can build a sledge then. She hasn't eaten in twenty-three days, she weighs less than Israel."
They traveled slowly and carefully, making their way up into the hills. Daniel carried her in his arms. Holding her, he could feel the bones of her ribs and was alarmed at how light she was. She had not yet regained consciousness. A fact that worried them both. About ten miles in, they found a small cave. Mingo built a bed of pine branches, and spread out the blanket from his pack, Daniel had laid her down on it, covering her with his coat. They built a fire and Mingo caught some squirrels. Cooking over the fire, Daniel made a stew with them and waited for her to waken.
"I'll go work on a sledge. Daniel, only give her the broth, and just a little bit. She's had nothing for weeks. Feeding her too much could make her sick. Just a little bit, every hour or so, and give her lots of water. Try and wake her. She needs food." He rested his hand on Daniel's shoulder looking down at Rebecca's bruised and swollen face. He rose and turned to leave, looking back he said, "When she is home, safe and well, I'm going back with you." He said angrily. "Those . . . " He hesitated his good English upbringing winning out. "We'll burn it to the ground." Daniel nodded his green eyes steely with suppressed rage. Agreeing he said, "We'll plan on it." As Mingo left, Daniel could hear him cursing in Cherokee.