Chayton could not believe his good fortune, at finding the woman. As he held her in front of him, on his horse, he wished it was his own wife he was cradling. Her arms were wrapped around her new daughter. He knew how frightened she felt, but there was no time to waste. She would have no choice. He had to bring her with him, and he could not very well leave her children, on their own to die, once she was taken, he justified himself.
Callie could see Chet’s cattle being herded by the Indians as they approached. Everything that Chet had lived for was being taken away in one fell swoop. If he had given the Indians the milk cow, he probably would have been able to keep the rest of his cattle, she thought, despising Chet for his stubbornness. Now he was dead, and she didn’t even have the cattle for the drovers to take to market for her, even if she managed to escape.
Once they reached the group, a few of them separated from the others who were herding the cattle, all kicking their horses into a gallop as well. Callie could see that each one of her sister’s children was divided among the group, who joined them. Each child was held in front of their captor on their horses, as they began galloping alongside the savage who had taken her, throwing up sod in their wake.
The urgency was felt by all involved. She realized that the life of this heathen’s son was all that really mattered to him, and he expected her to play her part in helping his son survive, just as they had expected Chet to give up one of his cows.
She was, strangely, rescued from Chet’s demands, only to be subjected to becoming a servant, or rather a wet nurse, to this heathen. She thought about how the face she had seen hovering above the gas lamp had frightened her. Now she knew why it had frightened her so. She wondered how many other demands he would force upon her, once his son was out of danger, and he could use one of his own people to feed his infant.
Over the last year, or so, she had been ravished regularly by her so-called husband, so the thought did not alarm her as much as it would have, had she harbored any love for Chet. It seemed she was being tossed out of the frying pan into the fire, she told herself with a shiver.
The band rode relentlessly on, never stopping for any reason, either to eat or rest. Callie was amazed at the stamina of their horses, and the braves. From time to time, she could hear the children whimpering calling out for water or food, but not even the riders gave themselves that simple luxury. Instead, they pushed forward.
Callie’s newborn child was the only one who could satisfy her thirst, as Callie offered her a breast whenever she woke up and cried. The blanket, her child was wrapped in, absorbed the infant’s waste, and even though Callie had the constant urge to empty her own bladder, she was not given the opportunity.
A few hours before sunset, they caught up with a lone Indian on a horse, with a cradleboard on his back. When he saw them coming, he turned his horse and met them half-way.
Immediately, Callie’s captor, swung off of his horse, lifting Callie down as well, and placing her on the ground with the spread still wrapped around her. As the other Indian dismounted, her captor took the cradleboard from his friend’s back. Eagerly, he reached in for his son, as his friend held the cradleboard, revealing a small bundle, wrapped in what appeared to be an Indian blanket.
The baby was crying weakly, and Callie’s heart went out to him. The Indian placed his own son in Callie’s arms while taking her daughter up into his. Callie hesitated, as she looked down upon the crying infant in her arms, and then glanced up into those dark brooding eyes, that made her recall her nightmares of his face, hovering over her.
She pressed the new foreign infant against her breast, and the crying stopped. When she did that all the Indians started whooping and laughing. They let the children down from their horses, and then all sat in a circle around her, watching her nurse the child.
Chayton, looked into the face of the infant he held in his arms, so different from his own son, not only because it was a female, but because she was light skinned, and had curly flaxen hair like her mother, with light blue eyes.
The woman glanced up at him, holding her baby, and his heart took a strange tumble. There was something about the woman that drew him, even as he mourned his own wife’s death.
The children all stood, looking frightened, but Connor came over to Callie and took her hand.
“You didn’t die,” he whispered. “I prayed he wouldn’t kill you. God saved you.”
“Yes,” Callie said. “God saved me,” but she wondered if she was really saved after all?
Connor refused to leave her side, now that the children were free to wander wherever they pleased. The Indians were not paying much attention to what the children were doing, but they laughed over the way little Rolletta toddled around, grabbing at things and examining anything she came in contact with. They seemed to enjoy watching Callie nurse their friend’s infant, along with watching the children. Callie was amazed that they were smiling and trying to entertain the children, in spite of the fact the girls were hesitant to interact with them. Ina tried to keep track of Rolletta, and followed her around because Connor, who usually watched Rolletta, remained next to Callie.
The braves finally rose from the circle, and were giving the children jerky meat, and offering them water from their pouches. They didn’t look in any big hurry to go anywhere now.
“We will camp down along the river here until the others come,” her captor informed her. “What name do you go by?”
“Callie,” she murmured.
“I am called Chayton. It means Falcon. I will call you, On-thoe-gyah, which means Kindness. You are showing great kindness in caring for my son.”
“But you forced me to come,” Callie pointed out.
Chayton shrugged. He knew she was right, but he felt he would not be drawn to her so much if she wasn’t kind.
“I see kindness in your eyes when you look upon my child. I am sorry I had to take you. Your children are with you. You will be cared for. No one will harm you. I will do all I can to return your kindness,” he told her.
Nonetheless, Callie thought the only way he could return her kindness, was to let her go, so she could return to her family, only she knew he would not allow that. At least, not, until he had someone else to care for his child. This made Callie hope that once they reached his people, he would let her go. She gave him a weak smile.
“After you are finished, we will move closer to the river. There we can bathe and make a camp until the rest of my companions join us,” he informed her. I will send my braves out to hunt, so we will eat well tonight.”
Chayton said something to the others, in his own language, and they all swung up on their horses and rode away.
As Callie finished feeding the, now contented child, Chayton took it from her arms, handing her baby back to her. He placed his child in the cradleboard again and put it on his back.
“Come. We will go down to the river now,” he informed her, and Callie managed to get to her feet; the spread draped from her shoulders. Connor clung tightly to her hand, while the other children following close behind.
When they reached the river, Chayton placed his baby in the cradleboard, leaning it against the trunk of a tree, which sprouted up from the soft grass. His horse had followed him as they walked to the river shore. He took the small shoulder blanket he had, flung over his shoulder and handed it to Callie.
“Wrap your child in this blanket, and I will take the other to wash it in the river and hang it on a tree to dry.”
She took the blanket from him and handed him the soiled blanket.
“Lay her beside my son,” he encouraged, “and come down to the river and bathe.
Callie did as he asked her, fastening the front of her dress that had been open earlier, in order for her to nurse his baby. She told Connor to stay and watch the babies, while she followed Chayton down to the river.
The dress she wore was old and faded. It had once belonged to Rolletta, and she wondered if Rolletta was looking down on her now, worrying what wa
s going to happen to her children. She had no petticoat since it was easier to work about the house without her skirt being held out from her by the ruffled material.
Chayton glanced at her.
“You can bathe now,” he informed her, as he knelt down and started washing out the blanket.
Callie hesitated, but Chet had already degraded her to the point where having to disrobe in front of this heathen was not as shocking, as it would have been otherwise. She knew he would not harm her, for the simple reason, he needed her, and she believed him when he had told her she was safe.
Chayton glanced up, as Callie waded out into the river. His eyes were riveted upon her alabaster white skin, as she moved gracefully, into the water. He had never seen such beauty before. The sight of a nude woman had seldom grabbed him this way since the tribe often bathed together. But this nude woman was different. There was a strength about her, that attracted him, and yet also, he could see an innocence that had been damaged somehow. She did not show modesty, in the way most white women did. However, she emanated a strange purity, he was trying to understand.
She turned her head, glancing over her shoulder at him, and he lowered his head again, trying to focus on the job he had at hand.
When Callie finished bathing, she returned to shore and pulled her dress on again, busying herself by fastening up the buttons. Chayton was occupied hanging the blanket on a branch of a tree, but she saw him turn and look at her. Their eyes caught for one long moment before he spoke.
“Tell the children to gather wood, so I can build a fire,” he instructed her.
The unusual spell was broken, and Callie did as he asked her. The children happily complied. They were used to doing chores at the ranch since Chet liked to keep them busy. As they were gathering the wood Callie sat next to the babies and watched Rolletta toddling about, picking wildflowers, and tearing the petals off of them. She lifted her head and noticed that Chayton was pulling his buckskin leggings, fringed shirt, and breechcloth off, in order to bathe himself.
She found herself watching him as he moved, commandingly into the water, his strong, dark back facing her. She couldn’t help but admire his masculine form, thinking how she had never been attracted to Chet or the way he looked when his clothes were off because she knew what it meant when Chet removed his clothes.
Now she actually felt intrigued by Chayton’s well shaped, bronze colored body, and the way the water was glistening off of his muscles beneath the slowly setting sun. He dunked his head, and then came up, slinging water from his hair, spraying droplets in all directions. The way the sun reflected off of the water as it fell around him, made the scene seem unreal, as though he was in one of those glass balls, which when turned upside down showered sparkles around the setting inside. It made Callie take in her breath.
As he came back up out of the river, facing her, his eyes caught hers, and she could detect a slight smile playing at the corners of his previously stern mouth when her eyes involuntarily swept over his lower anatomy. It changed his features in such a way, that Callie realized he was actually a handsome looking man, as far as Indian’s went, she told herself. She noticed several long white scars across his chest, and wondered how he got them?
Callie observed Chayton unabashedly, remembering all the times Chet had insisted she looked at him, or touched him, and she had averted her eyes, or pulled away, at the time, feeling degraded by his demands. She couldn’t understand why she did not avert her eyes now, as she took in every curve of his muscular form.
Maybe it was because he had helped her bring her baby into the world, that it gave her a strange bond with this wild man who looked so frightening, yet had been gentle with her when he stepped forward and took over when she needed someone the most.
She thought about how he had cut his own child free from his wife’s body and realized how hard that must have been for him to have to cut the body of the person he loved, in order to save his son. She felt the same strange pity reaching out to him, as she had felt for his child when he handed it to her to nurse.
Chayton stood there, motionless, staring at her, as she boldly returned his fixed stare. He was captured by the brashness of Callie‘s appraisal of him, as he walked up, out of the river. She showed no shyness, and yet, there was something vulnerable about her that sparked his interest. Chayton felt a great need to protect this white woman, only he wasn’t sure what she needed protecting from unless it was himself? He slowly bent down and picked up his clothes, as their eyes continued to lock, while he started to get dressed.
Chayton could not understand why he felt so unsure of himself around the woman. He merely needed her to feed his child, but something deep within himself, told him, it was more than just that. He had helped her give birth to her infant. Something about doing that seemed to change him.
The way she had been looking at him, when he returned from the river, stirred him in a way he wasn’t used to. Only the love of his wife had stirred him like that before. This very discovery troubled him. He loved Clenoa too much to have another woman take her place in his thoughts. So why did the thought of this white woman move him so much?
The children had piled the wood up and Chayton distracted himself by making a fire ring with rocks, calling the children to help him gather the rocks to use. Callie watched him as he interacted with the children, so unlike the way Chet used to order the children around. This strange savage seemed to make a game out of what the children were doing, and always patted them on the head when they had done a good job. Then he was kneeling over the wood, starting the fire with his knife and flint, as the children watched on with curious faces.
Eventually, Connor came and sat down by Callie, after the fire got started.
“Where are they taking us?” he wanted to know.
“To their village,” Callie told him.
“Are we going to become Indians now?” he asked.
“Maybe they will let us go, once there is someone to take care of Chayton’s baby. Then I will take all of you home with me to where your mother used to live before she married your father.”
“In the city?” he wanted to know.
“Yes,” Callie informed him.
“I don’t want to live in the city. Why can’t we go back to our ranch?”
“The Indians took all the cattle. There would be no way to earn money if we returned there,” Callie pointed out.
“Papa kept money hidden in a can. You could buy more cattle,” Connor insisted.
“Do you know where the can is?” she asked, feeling her heart lift, thinking that if Chayton let them go, she could use the money to pay for their fair back to Pennsylvania.
“It’s buried behind the house. He said he was going to make a big beautiful house for us with the money, but he never did.”
“Well, if we ever get out of this fix, we will just have to dig that can up,” Callie smiled.
Connor smiled at the woman who looked so much like his mother. He had begun thinking of her as his mother, and a love for her had kindled up in his heart. Now they shared a secret together, which made Connor feel all the closer to her. He snuggled up against to her, and Callie put her arm around his shoulder, as they watched Chayton tending to the fire.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The braves returned, bringing a small antelope, which they hung in a tree, and started to skin and gut. The children watched wide-eyed, even though they had witnessed their father butchering cattle before. The group smiled and joked with one another, as they attached the carcass to a wooden spike, Chayton had fashioned, which was placed on two forked branches he had pounded into the ground, on either side of the fire pit. When the braves were finished, they all headed down to the river. The Indians called the children to follow, discarding their clothes along the way, encouraging the children to do the same, and then all of them splashed into the river.
Callie watched as the men splashed and played in the water with the children, and she had to smile to herself. It was so seldom she
actually saw the children having fun, without Chet interrupting it. She sat with Rolletta in her lap, as she rocked her because Rolletta seemed listless and tired.
Callie had been worried about Rolletta lately, thinking she may be coming down with something. She felt the child’s head, and even though it seemed a little warm, she decided it was because Rolletta had been playing in the hot sun. Callie just attributed it to that, because otherwise, the youngest of her sister’s children, seldom complained and seemed happy enough.
Callie’s niece laid her curly blond head against Callie’s shoulder, as Callie patted her back. Even though Rolletta was really not her daughter, Callie had been the only mother the child had ever known, other than the wet nurse she had for the first few months of her life.
Callie thought how Rolletta’s hair contrasted so much with the dark fuzz of Chayton’s son’s thick black downy hair. All the other children also had blond hair like their mother, and Callie was glad that her daughter had not inherited Chet’s dark hair because she would ever be reminded of him, and the way he had always pawed her. She was embarrassed to have called him her husband. She did not mourn the loss of him. Consequently, she now had other problems to deal with.
The children came back up with the Indians, and got dressed, as the aroma of the cooking meat filled the air. It appeared the children did not seem as frightened of their captors as they had at first. In fact, they had acted more frightened of Chet, than they now acted among these dark, mysterious people.
The paint from the braves’ faces, had been washed away in the river, and now they looked more civilized than they had when they first came intruding upon Chet’s ranch. The one, who had cared for Chayton’s baby, came and squatted next to Callie, looking down at the two infants, so opposite to each other, laying side by side under the tree.
He smiled broadly at Callie and then reached his hand taking a fist full of her long hair, gazing at it with great interest.
“Doke kiah fega dau qi,” he murmured.
Beyond the Heart Page 7