Read Online Black Horse by Veronica Blake - Free Book Online Page B

attire was in gross defiance of the rules.
    “What’d ya think that savage will be like?”
    Brandon glanced absently at the man who had just ridden up beside him, interrupting a daydream about his future as the superintendent of his own fort. “Who?”
    “Old Sitting Bull,” the sergeant replied. “I heard he looks meaner than a rattler and is twice as deadly.”
    Brandon shrugged. “Seems like he’s been a might docile since he’s been up here in Canada.” His voice, deep, and heavy with a French-Canadian accent, contained an obvious note of annoyance.
    “He’s just waitin’ to strike,” Sergeant Rattan said. He gave his head a firm shake. “You mark my words, Lieutenant, Sittin’ Bull’s calm now. But he’s still lickin’ his wounds from the Little Bighorn. Once he’s had time to regroup, he’ll grow strong again. Then, he’ll wipe out everything—and everybody—who gets in his way.”
    Brandon kept his eyes focused on the road ahead. “I hope you’re wrong,” he answered. An icy shiver raced down his spine. He kept recalling the rumors, or truths, that had been circulating around the fort. Over five thousand Indians, mostly Sioux, had crossed over the Canadian border in the past few months. Their enormous number meant that before long, sickness and disease would likely erupt; starvation was inevitable, too.
    To make matters worse, they had also heard that the Sioux’ worst enemies, the Blackfoot, had also taken up residency in the area. The two warring tribes would undoubtedly continue with their murderous raids on one another’s villages, especially since all the Indians were restless, angry and tired of running away from the relentless American soldiers on the other side of the border.
    A sense of doom caused a heavy knot to settle in the pit of Brandon’s stomach. How could the measly hundred and two Mounties who were stationed at Fort Walsh ever hope to control an invasion of thousands of vengeful Indians? Newly built here in the Cypress Hills, the stockade that housed Fort Walsh represented the only form of law and order in the North—West Territories.
    Sergeant Rattan rode beside Brandon without making any further comments about the Indians. Brandon sighed with relief. He did not want to dwell on what might happen when they reached the Indian encampment. They had sent a scout to the village to warn the Indians that they were coming, and he had returned unharmed, so Brandon hoped there was nothing to worry about. If the sergeant was right about Sitting Bull, this entire mission was foolish and suicidal.
    Once again Brandon noticed how intolerable the heat was today—or was it just his nervousness? He squirmed uneasily in his saddle and then tugged hard on the high collar of his coat. It seemed abnormally warm for Canada at this time of year; during the day it felt more like July than September. But at night the temperature dipped significantly, and the chill in the air was already hinting at the approaching winter.
    The announcement that the Sioux village was near snapped Brandon’s thoughts back to the business at hand. A nervous twitch in his stomach made him feel queasy. Since becoming a Mountie, this was by far the most dangerous mission in which he had ever been involved. His fear continued to grow as he listened to Superintendent Walsh’s instructions.
    “We are here on a peaceful mission,” Walsh called out to his troops. “Under no circumstances are we to initiate any trouble.”
    “What if they start it?” Rattan asked, then added in a slightly belligerent tone, “Sir?”
    Walsh cast the sergeant a narrowed-eyed glare. “There are thousands of them, and a dozen of us. Ifthey want to fight, I guess this will be the day we all meet our Maker.”
    Walsh’s blunt retort left the troop silent and looking as if they all wanted to turn tail and run. The superintendent didn’t give them the chance. He raised his arm up into the air. The long suede fringe that decorated his