Chapter Twenty-Seven

 When Adam and Mike arrived back at the camp, they were joined by the few Aha macave who had retreated to the rocks after the battle.  Ben, Joe and Hoss came out of the hut to listen.
“Empote quatacheech will not return,” said one of the Indian men sadly. “Our numbers are too small to fight. We must join with another band.” He turned and motioned for the remaining members of the band to begin breaking their camp. They would take what they could carry, leaving the rest behind. He turned back to Adam and Mike. “Chacha hoda cannot stay,” he said to Adam. “If the soldiers find her, they will keep her at the mine for many days before they take her to the reservation. If they find she has white blood, they will take her to the prison of the white man.”

Ben stepped forward. “Adam, the army knows she’s been helping her people. They’re looking for her. She can’t go back to Aurora.”

Mike looked out across the top of the small mesa. “I do not belong…anywhere.”

“What about the Shoshoni?” asked Adam. “Can’t you go back there?”

“I will bring the soldiers to them.”

“Not if you stay there and hide. Don’t go back to Aurora.”

“But who will bring the medicine?”

Adam took her by the arms. “I don’t know, but it can’t be you. It won’t do them any good if you get caught.”

She bowed her head. “I will go to the Shoshoni. I will find a way to bring the medicine. I can walk with the white man without being seen.”

Joe saw the expression on Adam’s face and knew he was frustrated.  He also knew that Adam cared for the girl or he wouldn’t have been so insistent that she not go back to Aurora.

“You’ll travel with us. We’ll go back the way we came in,” said Adam, turning to his father. “The Army will be looking for us. We have to get back to Aurora before they find us.”

“Adam, I sent a telegram to Colonel Adamson in San Francisco. I don’t know how long it will take them to get here, but I expect they’ll close down these mines,” said Ben.

“That will be good for the Aha macave, but it’s too late for us. We should leave soon. How’s Joe?” he asked, looking over his father’s shoulder.

“He’ll survive. He’s pretty worn out, but with a little food and water, he’ll be alright,” answered Ben.

“I hope so, Pa. He’s got a ways to travel.”

Adam and Mike packed their belongings, taking some of the corn and dried meat. As they packed the horses they watched while the Aha macave climbed down from the small mesa carrying their belongings on their backs, silently disappearing into the canyons and rocks of the desert.

Standing beside Adam, Joe said, “One minute they’re right here, and the next it’s like they were never here at all.”  Adam squeezed his shoulder, looking worriedly into his eyes.  “I’m alright, Adam…now.”

Adam and Mike led them out the same way they had come, avoiding the open desert, making hidden camps, removing all evidence that they had been there. Ben, Joe and Hoss watched as Adam became an Indian, wearing his breechcloth, climbing the rocks and cliffs as silently as Mike, preparing their camp and meals, and breaking camp, leaving no trace. They made four two-man shelters at night, Ben sleeping in a shelter with Joe, the two ranch hands sharing a shelter, Adam, sleeping in his breechcloth with Mike, and Hoss sleeping alone. Mike was proud that Adam continued to wear his breechcloth and travel in bare feet. She had come to think of Adam as one of her people.

One day out, the soldiers caught up to them. As they turned their horses to run, the men fired at the soldiers who were firing on them. No one heard or noticed when Mike was hit. She kept riding on until they had reached cover, and even then, hid her pain from them. It was night before they tried to leave under cover of darkness. They quietly left the soldiers behind, traveling on foot for a distance before mounting their horses. It was only then that Adam noticed her wound when she couldn’t mount her horse. He pulled her away, holding her as she slowly sank to the ground. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We did not have the time to stop,” she said weakly.

“Adam, how is she?” asked Ben.

Adam shook his head. “If we could have stopped the bleeding earlier…she’s lost a lot of blood. We have to get her to the Shoshoni,” said Adam, covering her wound as best he could. Ben handed her up to Adam after he mounted his horse. He held her for the rest of the trip until the Shoshoni found them and took them to the Shoshoni village.

“What has happened?” asked an Indian woman, looking at the wound. “Ayasha has been shot by a white man’s gun?” she said, glaring at Adam and motioning for others to come take her. The Shoshoni went into a hut while the Cartwrights waited.

When Adam tried to enter the hut, he was stopped by one of the men. “You carry a white man’s gun. You are not Shoshoni.”

Ben drew Adam back away from the hut, frowning, watching him as he silently paced while Joe stood by, equally silent.  This girl, Mike or Ayasha, had risked her life to save his.  Now, she lay dying, and Adam…he understood there was a closeness there and wondered just what Adam had gone through to get to him.

Soon, all the Shoshoni left the hut except for the woman, having done everything they could do. After a few minutes the woman came out and spoke to Adam.  “She wishes to speak to you.”