The Coming Storm Read Online Free

than a stray dog. His surprise had come in the fact that Baker hadn’t kicked the child on the way by. The man’s attitude definitely left Zane rethinking his plans for making the army a career.
    It wasn’t long until the lieutenant returned. He was clearly perturbed and ill at ease with his orders. Joining his men, he motioned to Zane for the return of the binoculars. Zane handed them over, eyeing the man with a raised brow—the unspoken question quite evident.
    “He said it’s immaterial. We’ll get Mountain Chief after we take care of Heavy Runner.”
    “Begging the lieutenant’s pardon,” Zane began in a low voice, “but Joe said there were mostly just women and children in that village. Surely we aren’t going to unleash war on women and children.”
    Doane met his gaze. The pained look in his expression was almost more than Zane wanted to see, because in it was the harsh reality.
    “Nits make lice,” Doane whispered, offering no other comment.
    Zane cringed. He’d heard Baker use that phrase over and over since his first encounters with the man. It was his way of saying, “Kill the children—they’ll only grow up to be adults we’ll have to fight.”
    Zane struggled to keep down the contents of his stomach. He knew he didn’t have it in him to kill a child. Perhaps joining the army had been a mistake. He’d seen it as a brave and noble thing to do. He’d thought of himself as a peacemaker . . . but now that was clearly about to change. He gripped the Springfield even tighter in his frozen hands and prayed for God to somehow intervene. We’re supposed to be the civilized ones, he thought. Surely we can’t go through with this .
    As the sun rose, word came that the attack was on. In the eerie silence of the frigid morning, F Company and the others moved with great stealth down the slippery slopes. Zane could hear the blood rushing through his ears, could feel his heart pounding harder and harder. Somewhere, a baby cried and then was silent. No doubt its mother had been close by to tend its needs. But in a short time, many babies would be silent, cut down by the white seizers who had come to raid this village of innocents.
    “Nits make lice.” The words rang in Zane’s ears. He thought of his little cousin Jamie, Bram and Koko’s son. With only a quarter Blackfoot blood running through his veins, Jamie was still considered an Indian by white man’s standards. No doubt Major Baker would be more than willing to kill Jamie, just as he was willing to take the lives of the children in Heavy Runner’s camp.
    Zane slowed his steps and gave serious thought to walking away. To simply turning around and marching back up the ravine. Past his men—past Doane—past Baker. I can’t kill women and children. I can’t slaughter innocent lives .
    But the moment passed. The charge sounded and the soldiers moved en masse down the snowy bluffs. What happened after that seemed to occur in slow motion for Zane.
    To his left, an old man came running from his tepee. Zane knew the man to be Chief Heavy Runner. He’d encountered the man on more than one occasion in the past. The old man was notably alarmed but smiled as he held up his arms. He announced in Blackfoot that he and his people were friends to the whites. Then he repeated the declaration in English.
    “Friend,” he called while waving a paper in his hand.
    Zane wasn’t about to shoot the man. He reached out to take the paper, but before he could do even that much, one of the soldiers fired his gun into the old man, killing him instantly.
    After that, the war came to life. Screams filled the air, along with gunfire. Pikuni came pouring from their lodges, desperate to escape certain death. Women ran with their children for the cutbanks of the Marias, while old men and young boys attempted to fight back.
    Zane fired into the air as his comrades fired into old men and women. The stunned brown faces were permanently etched in his mind as the battle