“Drum is a warrior who is wise as well as brave,” said Chance, “but how could you expect her to come with you when you had killed her friends?”
“I will not give her up,” said Drum.
“I will pay you horses and bullets,” said Chance, “even though she is my own woman, I will pay you horses and bullets, because I do not want to fight you.”
Drum looked at Chance.
“Though she is my own woman,” said Chance, “I will buy her.”
“I will not sell her,” said Drum, “not for twenty horses or a thousand bullets.”
“I will give you forty horses,” said Chance, “a hundred boxes of bullets.” He did not consider at the moment where he might obtain such riches. Somehow he could; somehow he would.
“I will not sell her,” said Drum.
“Please,” said Lucia.
Drum regarded her contemptuously.
“Please-” said Lucia, begging him, “-sell me.”
“Do you want to be my squaw?” asked Drum.
“No!” cried Lucia, “no, no!”
Drum threw back his head and laughed, and then he slapped his leg with pleasure. “If you wanted to be my squaw,” he said, “then maybe I would sell you.”
Chance’s fists closed. Lucia subsided into crushed, helpless silence.
“Why will you not give up the woman?” asked Chance.
Drum looked at him. “I want her,” he said.
“Tomorrow morning,” said Old Bear, speaking to both men, “you will fight.”
About the campfire there was a murmur of assent to Old Bear’s words.
“No,” said Lucia to Chance. “I will be his woman.”
“I will not permit it,” said Chance.
“Please,” said Lucia.
“No,” said Chance. “I will not permit it.”
Drum looked at Lucia, puzzled.
Then the two men regarded one another.
“For a long time, Medicine Gun,” said Drum, “there has been bad blood between us. Tomorrow we will end the blood that is bad between us.”
Chance nodded.
Drum looked down at him. “I am not angry with you, Medicine Gun,” he said.
Chance looked up, surprised. He regarded the swift, lithe young brave. Somehow, now that the matter was settled, he, too, felt no anger. “And I,” said Chance, “am not angry with the son of Kills-His-Horse.”
“Good,” said Drum.
Chance nodded, looking down at the dirt.
“Give up the woman,” said Drum.
Chance looked up again more surprised than before. “I will not give her up,” he said.
“Then,” said Drum, “we will fight.”
“Yes,” said Chance, “we will fight.”
Tomorrow one of them would be dead.
“Take the coats of these men,” said Old Bear, gesturing to Grawson and Totter, “and give them to the women and children.”
Two braves tied the feet of Grawson and Totter. Then, they untied their arms and removed the warm greatcoats, afterwards rebinding their arms.
When Totter’s greatcoat was pulled off, Drum’s eye was taken of a sudden by the soldier’s sleeve. He went to Totter and held the bound arm. Then Drum’s sudden cry of joy rang through the camp, like sun off the blade of a lifted knife. Chance looked more closely. In the light of the fire he could see Drum’s hand on Totter’s arm, and the blue sleeve, where two chevrons had been torn off.
As the Indians bent forward to see more closely, and the women and children pressed in, Drum released Totter’s arm and from the recesses of his medicine bag withdrew one stained, wrinkled yellow chevron. This he held against Totters sleeve, his face evil with delight.
“Winona!” cried Drum. “Winona!”
Winona came forward, facing Totter, who knelt frozen with fear bound before her.
At the side of Winona stood Running Horse.
Totter numbly shook his head, back and forth, denying a charge that had not yet been made.
“It wasn’t me,” said Totter. “Not me.” Totter began to whimper. “You got the wrong feller,” he said. “It wasn’t me.”
Without speaking Running Horse withdrew from his own medicine bag a second wrinkled, yellow chevron. This he too held to Totter’s sleeve. It too, of course, matched.
Totter shook his head again. “No,” he said, his voice only a whisper, terrified. “No,” he said, “it wasn’t me.” His eyes screamed, looked to Winona, imploring.
The girl’s face bore no trace of emotion; then without speaking she turned and made her way back through the Indians, leaving him.
Totter looked from Drum to Running Horse, to Old Bear, puzzled, not understanding.