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Updated: June 18, 2025
But the slighter man slipped away. Travis knew he must be careful in such evasions. One foot across the ridged circle and he was finished as much as if Deklay's blade had found its mark. Travis tried a thrust of his own, and his foot came down hard on a sharp pebble. Through the sole of his moccasin pain shot upward, caused him to stumble.
There it was an open hostility with more power behind it than Deklay's motiveless disapproval had carried. Travis was troubled. The family, the clan they were important. If he took the wrong step now and was outlawed from that tight fortress, then as an Apache he would indeed be a lost man.
As the earth-grimed fingers of one hand clawed into Deklay's face, he struck with the other, not with the point of the knife but with its shaft. But Deklay, already only half conscious from the blow, had his own chance. He fell to the ground, leaving his knife behind, two inches of steel between Travis' ribs.
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