The six Indian captives cheered robustly. Desmond yanked his knife from the chest of Kiowa T. Jones and cleaned the blood off in the snow.
"Let the coyotes have his body," Dez muttered to himself.
Dez then moved to cut the ropes off the captives. He directed the former captives, pointing toward the Southeast. "Johnson Grove is that way about twenty miles. You can make it by sundown. Tell the Marshall what happened and turn Kiowa's men over to him. Use their horses. Make the men walk."