I ran toward him and leaped onto his back. We took off again, heading for another enemy warrior.
All around me, the Sioux lay on the ground, moaning and crying, or eyes vacant, staring at Wakan Tanka.
Ahead, Marcellious galloped through a group of Kiowa, shooting wildly.
Several fell from their horses to the ground.
The twang of an arrow leaving its bow vibrated in the air, followed by a swift stab of pain as the arrowhead pierced my shoulder. I screamed in anguish and tore the arrow from my skin.
Another Kiowa warrior sprinted toward me on foot, his knife held high. He plunged the blade into my calf before I could react.
I kicked the warrior in the face with a cry of pain, and he fell backward.
To my right, Earth Bear navigated his steed toward another group as he shouted war cries.
Another Native American Indian raced toward him from behind.
“Look out!” I yelled, kicking my horse into a mad gallop.
The warrior threw his spear straight through Earth Bear’s side. The blade’s tip sliced through his body, and Earth Bear toppled to the ground.
“No!” I yanked my horse to a halt. Rifle in hand, I leaped to the ground and ran toward Earth Bear, who lay face down with the spear skewering him.
After throwing my rifle down, I rolled him to his side as gently as possible.
Blood spurted from his wound in a pulsing stream.
The Kiowa had stabbed Earth Bear right through his belly, beneath his ribcage.
I pressed my hand to the wound, pushing the spear tip backward. “Don’t die, Earth Bear. You’re going to make it.”
“It’s my time, Swift Hawk,” he struggled to say. “Great Spirit is calling me.”
He lifted a shaking hand.
“Look out,” he gasped.
I turned as the same warrior who had thrown his spear at Earth Bear powered toward me on foot, knife blade raised.
I lunged to my feet but tripped on my rifle, falling backward.
The Kiowa screamed something and threw his knife at me.
The blade struck me squarely in the abdomen, the same place as the spear through Earth Bear’s belly. I ripped the knife from my belly and stared, horrified, at a similar fountain of blood pulsing from my open wound.
“Oh, God,” I breathed. “I’m going to die.”
“Brother!” Marcellious yelled. “I’m coming!”
He galloped toward me, leaped from his horse, and dropped to the ground by my side.
“I’m dying,” I told him, clutching his shirt. “I’m not going to make it.”
Marcellious bolted to his feet, grabbed my arms, and dragged me away from the battle through the fallen Sioux and Kiowa hordes. Once he’d hauled me safely away, he said, “The Kiowa banded with the Comanche. That’s why their numbers are so great. The bastards tricked us.” He lifted his head and then directed his attention back to me. “We only have about twenty warriors left. Grey Feather still lives.”
“Good.” It took so much effort to talk. “Earth Bear is gone.”
I groaned and closed my eyes.
