If they could catch Black Hawk, he thought, what glory that would be. No matter how many fighting men Black Hawk had, Raoul felt sure his battalion could crush them. The burning lodges, the whiskey in his blood, the hatred in his heart, all ran together so that Raoul felt like a prairie fire racing after the British Band.
14
First Blood
White Bear tried to think only about guiding his brown-spotted white pony over the grasslands and watching his two companions. He tried to put fear out of his mind.
I did not even have a chance to say good-bye to Redbird.
Redbird was a day's ride up the Rock River from here, at the camp the Potawatomi had allowed Black Hawk's people to set up. White Bear's body went cold with the thought that he might be killed today, and she be left alone and pursued by enemies.
I should have asked Wolf Paw to be her protector if I die. He hates me, but he cares for Redbird.
It was for Redbird and Eagle Feather, and for the baby growing inside Redbird, that he was risking his life today. His family was going hungry. It had been over six weeks, by pale eyes reckoning, since Black Hawk had led them across the Great River into Illinois. White Bear and Redbird, like other British Band families, could carry little food with them, and most of that was gone. With the long knives pressing behind them, White Bear had no time to hunt or fish, nor Redbird to gather food from the woodlands.
She must not go without food, especially not while carrying their child. The children of the British Band walked about hollow-eyed; the crying of hungry babies rose from every part of the camp. Old people, looking nearly dead, lay on the ground trying to husband their strength.