A Find Through Time

by Marianne Petit

  But Two Moons believed-as all Native Americans did-in the power of his medicine bag and he was mad enough. Maybe when she returned and showed him what she’d done, he'd be in a better mood. Biting her lower lip, she glanced away. Two Moons might forgive her, and if he ever stopped screaming enough to listen, she might get a chance to set things straight between them.

  “I don’t trust you.” Restless, irritable, her gaze bounced from his face to the distance beyond his shoulder, then back at him.

  “You have my word that I will not harm you.”

  “Based on what?”

  “My word is good,” Little Wolf insisted.

  Perhaps her need to please Two Moons overshadowed her reasoning, but somehow she believed him. She sighed. “Tell me what it is that I must do.”

  Little Wolf grabbed her arm before she could change her mind and turned her back toward the river. They crossed the shallow water. Standing at the edge of the woods, Gabrielle hesitated. Was she making a mistake? It wasn't too late to change her mind.

  “I think-”

  Little Wolf gave her arm a sharp tug. “Come. We go this way.”

  Walking in silence through the densely wooded forest, a sense of panic overwhelmed her. She drew in a deep breath and glanced around. A soft breeze rattled the leaves. Slender trees creaked, swaying to and fro. Everything was normal. So why the sudden feeling that something was very wrong? A flock of birds rushed from the trees. She flinched.

  Little Wolf glanced around as though he were searching for someone.

  A horse's whinny broke through the trees. Gabrielle's heart lurched. Little Wolf slammed his hand against her mouth. “Be quiet, or I will kill you.” He released her, giving her a shove forward.

  The blood drained from her cheeks. Out of nowhere, laced between the trees, a small band of Indians on horseback rode up and stopped before them.

  One man, presumably the leader, rode past the others. Walking his horse around her, he completed the circle, then stopped before her. “It is good to see you, White Swan. Your father will be happy we have found you.”

  White Swan? Father? Gabrielle stared up at him, disoriented by his words. His eyes of golden amber showed no anger. His boldly handsome face smiled warmly down at her. His black braided hair bleached by the sun had a rusty hue to it and hung against his lean chest. He wore bangs that stood up straight. Around his shoulders hung a red and white striped hooded blanket with the emblem of a thunderbird. Somehow she got the feeling these men were from a different tribe. What would Little Wolf want with them and why? She glanced at Little Wolf.

  “There will be time enough later to welcome her back,” he remarked, a slight edge of nervousness in his voice. “Give me the white man's whiskey and let me go on my way.”

  Before she knew what was happening, the stranger's strong arms lifted her off the ground. Plopped down before him, she struggled against the arms that held her. “Hey. What the hell-”

  “Why do you fight me little one? You are safe with me,” her captor whispered softly in her ear.

  Safe? Safer with him or Little Wolf? What a choice. She stared down at him. Dark squinting eyes examined her with an intense mixture of lustfulness and anxiety. He fixed his gaze on her face. With a deliberate slowness, he drew his gaze down the length of her. She reached down and yanked her dress over her thigh.

  “She belongs to you now. Take her away.” Little Wolf quickly turned and disappeared into the woods, before she could say another word.

  ****

  After what seemed like an eternity of unrelenting travel, Gabrielle could see over the rise of the hill. A small village of fifteen or so tepees dotted the landscape. Beyond that, a large fort loomed. Towering wooden walls pierced the landscape, like some made-up set for a movie.

  From up on the watchmen's tower came a cry to open the gates. One by one the small band of men, with her in the lead, skirted past the village and paraded through the open doors.

  Inside, soldiers in blue uniforms, their glinting swords at their sides, hurried past her. Women dressed in long billowing skirts of varying colors, with bonnets on their heads, strolled along the wooden sidewalks. In the open courtyard, an American flag flew in the warm breeze. Rows and rows of pillars, standing as erect as the soldiers who marched before them, supported a low roof of sandy yellow. Beyond, cut every few feet into the gray flagstone, lead pane windows and doors of sturdy oak lined the building's front.

  They stopped before a massive building. Gabrielle was lifted down off the horse. She heard the creak of a door opening then slamming shut. The first thing she noticed when she turned toward the noise was a pair of polished black boots. Then she noticed the immaculate pressed blue uniform with its glowing brass buttons and the man's warm smile. His arms extended, he hurried over and embraced her with tenderness.

  “My dear daughter.” He kissed her cheeks. His long waxed mustache tickled her jaw. “My heart can at last be calm. When the snow storm hit, it surprised us all. Please believe me, I wanted to go after you, but my orders were to stay at the fort. Do you understand that I couldn't leave?” He looked at her with blue eyes that pooled with guilt and begged for forgiveness.

  Staring into the ruddy pink face of her great-great-grandfather, all she could manage to do was nod. Colonel Jackson Wilfred. She recognized him from the old family albums her mother kept under the coffee table.

  “For days I prayed that you lived through that blizzard. It was only when the snows had cleared and we learned from a Sioux brave of your whereabouts, that my prayers were answered.”

  The man turned and clasped the arm of the handsome, brave, who stood tall and proud beside her. “I thank the Almighty that Golden Eagle learned of your whereabouts. I am in your debt my good friend.”

  “You and your daughter are back together as it should be. I will go now,” Golden Eagle answered. With a nod, he walked away.

  “Come, my dear. You must be tired. Let us go to my quarters.”

  His words barely registering on her dizzied senses. She stared, bewildered. He caught her under her arms and held her up before her legs gave way totally.

  “Your taxing ordeal has worn on you more than I feared.” His voice held a note of concern.

  “I'm fine, really. See?” She stepped away from him to prove that she could stand without help. “I'm as strong as an ox.”

  What a lie. Her knees quivered. Her back ached and her head spun. This man was great-great-grandfather and her father at the same time. Damn, was this weird?

  “Still…” He took her hand in his, tucked his arm under hers and began to walk, guiding her along with him. “It is my duty as your father to worry and protect you.”

  How she had longed to hear her own father, or her mother for that matter, say those very words. Her throat constricted. She felt as if she had suddenly been set down in the midst of a tornado, with a million unanswered questions swirling across her brain.

  “Seeing how I have failed in the past, let me at least try to be a better father in the present.” He gave her hand a reassuring tap. “Come, let us get inside. There is talk of a battle. We do not have all of our regiment here at the moment.”

  Battle. The word shot through Gabrielle like a bolt of lightning. “What year is it?” The words slipped from her mouth before she realized how stupid she had sounded.

  A quick glint of surprise lit his blue eyes.

  Embarrassed, Gabrielle glanced up at the flag as they passed it by, a familiar sight with a lot fewer stars and stripes.

  “Eighteen hundred and seventy-six, but my dear…”

  And it was June. She stopped dead in her tracks and whirled to face him. Custer. Two Moons! Gabrielle's thoughts shifted to the man she had left behind. Would he come for her?

  Earlier, when she had seen the village outside the fort, she had slipped his medicine bag between her breasts in fear that the these people, not of Two Moons’ tribe, would not understand why she held it; now it weighed heavily against her heart. He would
have to come. If anything happened to him-

  “Grand -- Father,” she corrected herself. “General Custer-is he here?”

  Puzzled by her question, he studied her face. His warm hand rested lightly on her arm. “No. He is not. Are you ill? Should I fetch a doctor?”

  She shook her head. “No. I'm fine.” Heat dotted her cheeks. What I meant was-I wondered when the general had left the fort.”

  “Last I heard he left Fort Lincoln on May seventeenth. He should be heading down toward the Little Big Horn River as we speak, but I think Doctor McGarvy should have a look at you.”

  A wave of relief washed over her, but quickly disappeared, as Gabrielle recalled seeing her grandfather's name listed as having died at the battle site. Confusion crossed her creased brows. Her thoughts scampered, but she smiled with deceptive calmness. “I don't need a doctor. I am perfectly fine.”

  “Jackson Wilfred, sir,” a voice called out.

  Both Jackson and Gabrielle turned toward the voice. A boy of no more than sixteen approached them. A pang of sadness tightened her chest. So many young lives had been lost on the battlefield.

  He saluted. “The general wishes yer presence, Sir. Words come that yer regiment is leavin' and yer to dispatch a letter to General Custer, Sir.”

  The words barely left his mouth, when a realization hit. A letter, a stupid letter would place Grandpa Jackson at the battle site. He was going to die! This man standing beside her was going to die, alongside Custer and the rest of those soldiers, whose bodies would be marked by slabs of cold white stone markers.

  She could barely catch her breath. “You can't go. You can't.” Her adrenaline pumped as fast as her words. “Don't you see, you'll die out there. Please.” She grasped his collar tightly.

  There was a moment of silence as surprise registered on his face.

  “Tell me you won't go. Don't fight with Custer.” Custer. The thought barely had time to register.

  “Calm down, dear. Calm down.” He eased her fingers from his collar and held them tightly in his own. “I'll be safe, you'll see. Don't worry.” He glanced over her shoulder. “Tell the general, I'll be right there.” The soldier turned and walked away.

  What could she do? Fate had brought her here. She had to do something to stop him. “Father-”

  Grandpa Jackson raised a finger, silencing her. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a long gold chain. “Here.” He opened her hand, dropped the gold in her palm and closed her fingers around it. “It is a gift for your mother.”

  Gabrielle uncurled her fingers and stared down at the etched round locket.

  “Please. Open it.” He gestured to the necklace.

  Slowly she opened the cover. Tucked inside, nestled between the gold, were two photographs, one of Col. Jackson, the other of an Indian woman holding a baby girl in her lap.

  Her chest tightened. Other than the color of her skin, the child looked exactly like her own baby picture. “You were so young there.” Jackson said.

  She snapped the locket shut. Thoughts and speculation gave way to realization. An overwhelming surge of anger, then loss, shot through her. A part of her identity had been ripped away from her-gone-snatched up, just like that, with just a few words. Why had her mother failed to mention Native American blood ran through her veins? Willimina held her English heritage high on who they were and where they had come from. Perhaps that snobbery had prevented her from painting the whole picture. How could Willimina have done this to her?

  “When you leave, give it to your mother, for as much as my heart regrets the day that I left her…”

  Left her? What did he mean? Had he left his wife? Was there some family law that said the men in the family had the right to leave when it suited them? Hadn't her own father done the same? It seemed she shared a lot more than just facial structure with White Swan. Gabrielle studied Grandpa Jackson with a cynical eye.

  “I cannot leave my command. Tell your mother I am sorry.” His voice cracked. His shoulders hunched. She couldn't stand the look of anguish that darkened his face. She reached out and lightly rested her hand on his arm.

  “Whatever has happened in the past is forgotten. I am here now and we have so much to discuss.” Had she really said that? Could she really forgive him? Perhaps she would just listen to his explanation, maybe then, she could understand.

  “I must go.” He pushed open the door that led to his quarters. “Go inside and rest.”

  “Please, don't go. I--” her voice broke. Panic echoed in her unspoken words. “Call it a woman’s feeling, but something bad will happen to you if you go.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  She placed a restraining hand over his arm. “Please. Get word to Custer’s wife, Libby. She, too, shares this omen of danger.”

  “Go.” He took her hand, urging her into the room. “Go inside and rest.”

  There was nothing more she could say, yet there were so many words. She watched him walk away; watched as the distance separating them grew farther and farther, as the sadness that weighed on her shoulders, grew heavier and heavier. She turned and walked into the building.

  Standing alone in the cool, sparse room, her mind, a crazy mixture of sadness, fear and hope. She sighed, trudged over to the lone bed in the corner and sat. The rickety old cot was as welcomed as any thick mattress. Laying across the gray Army blanket, she brought the locket to her breast and held it tightly. She couldn't let him die. She couldn't. But what could she do? Was it her place to just change history for her own purpose? Did she want that responsibility? Her head began to pound. She closed her eyes and visions of her new found family swirled across her brain.

  Then, moments before she faded off to sleep, a pair of dark, brooding eyes and a handsome face filled her thoughts. Thank God, Two Moons and his people were nowhere near the battlefield.

  ****

  Two Moons' anger blazed like a wild fire out of control. It seemed his medicine bag along with Blue Eyes were nowhere to be found. She was a thief. A thief who had stolen his powers and wanted him dead. He gripped the silver armband in his palm till the edge cut into his skin. Had Blue Eyes planned to run away for a long time? When he found her again, he would stake her hand and foot inside his lodge. She had betrayed his trust. Never again would she make a fool of him. He flung the silver band. The metal cut through the air barely missing Shadow Elks' head as he stepped into Two Moons' lodge.

  “Next time I will announce my presence, as I fear I will lose my head.” Shadow Elk's bantering words gave way to a relaxed smile.

  “I will go this one alone.” Two Moons jammed his quiver with arrows and grabbed his bow and shield.

  Shadow Elk flipped open the tepee’s door. His mouth clamped. His eyes fixed with determination, he watched him pass. Two Moons knew no words would deter his friend from following him in his search for Blue Eyes.

  “The horses are ready.” Shadow Elk marched up beside him.

  “I only go to get back what belongs to me.”

  “And so you should. She-”

  “I only go for my medicine bag. She-I can do well without.” Two Moons secured a blanket over his horse’s back.

  “You could no more do without her than a fish could do without water… than the birds could do without the sky… than--”

  “I hear your words. Cease your talk.” Two Moons mounted his war pony. It seemed his friend indeed knew him like no other.

  Despite his raging fury, Blue Eyes' disappearance had left an emptiness in his lodge, one which no amount of anger could fill.

  He knew exactly where to look. What surprised him was that she left no tracks to follow. Perhaps Blue Eyes knew more of her people's ways than he had believed. The thought did little to please him as he headed for the Fort, Shadow Elk riding by his side.

  They rode hard, stopping once to water the horses.

  The moon was high in the sky by the time they reached their destination. Two Moons and Shadow Elk watched the Crow village nestled in the vall
ey before the fort. Blue Eyes was not among her people, which came as no surprise to him. He had always suspected her true heart lay with the people beyond those wooden walls.

  With haste, Two Moons and Shadow Elk moved cautiously past the village and made their way to the walled fortress.

  Quickly, yet with a quietness that had been taught them since birth, they ran to where the bushes met the wall. Two Moons glanced around, then pushed some branches aside to reveal a small door. Shadow Elk slipped the tip of his arrow through the crack and lifted the lock.

  Their senses alert, both men glanced around then ran for cover between two wooden structures. Perhaps now that they were inside, Two Moons would see if Yellow Hair was hiding in this walled village. His gaze fell upon the lodge that flew the white man's battalion flag overhead.

  “Not now, my friend,” Shadow Elk whispered as if he’d read his thoughts. “They are too many and we are but two. You will meet Yellow Hair in battle. That is when you will get your revenge.”

  Her silky voice floated through the air. Two Moons heard her laugh.

  He jerked his head toward Blue Eyes. Arm in arm, she walked beside a man with long hair dripping from his mouth. The moon was bright, bright enough even from his hiding place to see the relaxed smile on her face and the way she clung to the soldier's arm.

  It had not taken her very long to exchange Chahanpi's leather dress for the garb of the white woman, Two Moons thought with disgust, noticing the long blue cloth Blue Eyes wore. She reached over and kissed the cheek of the man beside her.

  Two Moons pulled an arrow from his quiver.

  “No.” Shadow Elk placed his hand over Two Moons'. He pointed to a group of four men walking toward Blue Eyes and her companion.

  Two Moons fingers twisted into a fist. Again she had lied to him. She had a lover. He glared at the white man with burning reproachful eyes. What could she see in that old man? He could take that Blue Coat down and slit his neck before he even knew what had happened.