Bab 94: Chapter 94

Once the pony calmed a bit, we left the shelter of the thrashing trees and braved the banshee winds to cut across the prairie. I had no interest in running into the militia, although it was unlikely any of that lot was braving the elements at the moment. I leaned into the wind, leading Patch by the reins.

Something or someone had spooked the immigrants. A horse down because of an accident or illness would have occasioned grateful acceptance of aid. Yet, when I called out, the people in the wagon panicked. Had someone attacked the wagon or were the settlers merely nervous about strangers? Especially red strangers.

Although I sported no feathers or beadwork, I was wearing fringed trousers and a buckskin shirt. They had probably mistaken me for a hostile. I picked up my pace. I wanted to be home before the militia got news of the incident and spread its net.