Walks Alone

by Sandi Rog

  Anna’s lips tugged into an uncontrollable smile, and she jumped to her feet.

  He held up her roots, along with several others he’d caught, for her and the other women to see. She noticed the other women nodding their approval, so she held out the roots that were hidden behind her back and waved them before him. He stepped toward her, and she stepped back.

  Odd how quickly she came to like this game. She held the roots out to him.

  He reached for them, but she jerked them away and held them behind her, daring him to grab them.

  His arm moved around her, but she turned so he couldn’t get them. He chuckled, his smile sending a warm tingle down her spine. He seemed hesitant, as though he feared touching her, but she egged him on.

  “Take them, I dare you.” She giggled, surprised by her own boldness.

  He straightened, crossed his arms and raised a brow. His smile vanished, and she was certain she’d insulted him by her impropriety. Would a wild Indian think her improper?

  “What’s wrong?” She dropped her hands at her sides, prepared for a scolding.

  He snatched the roots.

  “You cheater!”

  “I don’t cheat.” He grinned.

  “You’re a tease,” she said, relieved he didn’t rebuke her, and she reached out to poke him in the arm.

  He snatched her wrist, put it to his lips and kissed the soft skin near her palm. Flames of heat coursed down to her elbow and all the way to her toes. He tugged her to him and purred in her ear. “I’m a tease?”

  Suddenly she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.

  “Thank you for the roots, Anna.” Grinning, he released her. Raising the roots over his head, he shouted a victory cry and strode toward one of the hills to eat them.

  Anna studied her wrist, thinking of that kiss, feeling it. This must be what it was like to be branded.

  She walked next to Beth, her legs wobbly. If it weren’t for the nervous pounding of her heart and the weakness in her knees, she might have skipped as they headed back toward the village.

  Chapter Twelve

  The day of the wedding finally arrived.

  Anna trembled as she thought about the coming events. She trusted in White Eagle’s promise and tried to set her mind on Denver City. But now that she was faced with the actual event, she couldn’t help but believe they’d truly be married. How could he get rid of her if they were married? Why was he willing to deny their marriage? She could understand a white person not accepting it, but him? It made no sense. Maybe deep down inside he didn’t want a white woman for a wife? Maybe he was simply doing this for Running Cloud like he said. If he had any affection for her, wouldn’t he want to keep her?

  What was she doing? She had to stop this wedding. But if she tried to leave, Running Cloud might kill her. Something inside her ached. She couldn’t deny this marriage, despite the things he told her about the white man never accepting a Cheyenne wedding. If he set her free in Denver, she’d never be free. She’d never be able to remarry.

  Lord, what am I to do?

  She was getting married. She’d be his wife. A real wife. It all seemed unreal. A part of her felt giddy at the idea of being White Eagle’s wife. He was so handsome. But marriage had to be more than that. More than whether someone was attractive or not. She had such limited experience. Really, she knew very little of what a good marriage required.

  Song Bird had braided her hair, and now helped her slip into a new dress, its skin soft and smooth to the touch. Layers of fringe trimmed the skirt, and painted quills wove in and around its entirety. It was much more elaborate than the first dress given to her.

  She felt beautiful, and yet her attire would have made her uncle faint. He would have thought her a savage. She smiled to herself. She had more Indian dresses than civilized ones. If only her uncle and his arrogant high-class friends could see her now.

  Song Bird led her to the opening of the lodge where a horse waited outside. The men stood around the camp, watching the scene with their arms crossed, while several women helped her onto the horse. Silence hung on the air with no singing and no words spoken; such was the tradition of a Cheyenne wedding. The women led her through the village toward White Eagle’s lodge, and the sounds of the horse’s hooves echoed through the camp.

  Upon arrival, she remained on the horse, while the women spread one of White Eagle’s large blankets before his door. They then helped Anna off the horse, not allowing her to touch the ground, and set her on the blanket.

  She reclined, and the women picked her up in it. After carrying her into the far side of White Eagle’s lodge, they gently set her down. Where was White Eagle? The women left, and other women came in to undress her.

  Her cheeks warmed as the women removed her clothes. Thank goodness Song Bird had explained what would happen on this special day, otherwise at this point she might have panicked. Not that she didn’t feel like panicking already.

  The women then had her kneel for the next part of the ritual. In silence, they smeared paint on her cheeks and arms. Her skin tickled under their feather-light touches as they painted designs on her white skin. Her heart pounded in her chest. Soon the ritual would be over, and she would have to face the groom.

  They then unfolded a long, white wedding dress. It cascaded to her ankles with fringes at the hem. When she stood, its wrap-around skirt made a slight train, with fringes folding over the inner skirt to her waist. Blue and green painted eagles and flowers, highlighted with yellow painted quills, splashed from the hem up to her knees. They met silver, blue, and green diamond-shaped patterns and white horsehair, which flowed down the sides of the skirt just below her hips.

  The bodice had two layers. The bottom layer, sewn with sinew, gathered at the neck and hugged against her waist in one solid color. Its long, wide-cut sleeves broke out in small fringes at her wrists. The top layer draped over her like a cloak. Long fringes spilled down her back and over her shoulders along its hem. Small quills reflected blue, green and silver, creating numerous diamond shapes.

  She carefully spun around, watching the layers of fringe twirl around her. It took her breath away. Giggling, the women slipped beaded bracelets onto her wrists and a necklace of shells around her neck.

  Beth was likely having the same experience on the other side of the village. She hoped all was well with her friend and felt almost giddy about showing Beth her new wedding gown and jewelry.

  The women exited as soon as they were finished, leaving her to sit on the blanket awaiting White Eagle’s arrival. His lodge differed little from Song Bird’s and Yellow Leaf’s home. Feathers and cloth with quilled designs hung from the walls and stakes. White Eagle’s shield hung from another stake. A long tail of feathers dangled from its large, round shape. She imagined the war stories it could tell.

  At that moment White Eagle’s large form shadowed the opening of the lodge.

  Her gaze traced his long form, up his arms and shoulders, to his face. He smiled.

  “Are we married now?” she asked, suddenly short of breath.

  “Yes.”

  The cold hard truth slammed into her. “That was it? What about vows?” She didn’t even get the chance to say, “I do,” let alone, “I don’t.” Not that she would have had the courage to refuse him anyway. Anna thought Song Bird had just left out those details. After all, those things were common knowledge. Oh, Lord. I’m a married woman now. What do I do? “I didn’t even get a ring,” she whispered, tears threatening.

  His mouth opened as if he might speak, but he suddenly closed it. “This is a Cheyenne wedding. Running Cloud and Yellow Leaf already gave their consent, and that’s enough.” He strode to her, wearing buckskin leggings with a loincloth draped over the front and back, and a buckskin shirt. Fringes dangled from the edges of his clothing and over his shoulders where quills were sewn into pretty patterns; the same patterns she had on her new dress. She couldn’t deny that he looked handsome.

  “Will you take me home now?” Her voice
choked. She desperately wished she were back in Song Bird’s lodge. At least she felt at home and safe there and not defenseless like now. Suddenly she didn’t trust White Eagle.

  He knelt next to her, his closeness making her take in a sharp breath.

  “I’ll take you to Denver when I’m ready.” He propped an elbow on his knee, and fiddled with the fringes on her dress, his fingers snagging her attention.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said. “Why did you come so far all alone? Didn’t you have anyone to take care of you?” His voice was warm and soothing, and his unusual accent swelled through the lodge on a baritone wave of comfort. His eyes gazed into hers, and she could see that he was sincere.

  “There was someone.”

  “Who?”

  “My uncle.” She traced a trembling finger along the smooth quills on her dress.

  “I thought you didn’t have any family?”

  “I don’t,” she said, hugging her knees to her chest. She hated to think she was related to such a man. “After my father and I arrived from Holland—”

  “You’re from Holland?” His eyes brightened.

  She nodded.

  “So, you’re a Dutch girl.” He chuckled. “You sailed across the ocean on a ship.” He nodded as though intrigued. “I knew you weren’t from New York. How old were you?”

  “Ten.”

  “That explains the accent.” He studied the air. “I’ve never seen the ocean before,” he murmured as though in deep thought. “I imagine it looks like the open plains. And the rolling hills are like the waves.”

  “Yes,” she said. “I couldn’t have described it better.”

  “And its color . . . .” His gaze flickered to hers. “What color is it?”

  “Mostly gray, but there are parts that look like the lake, really like . . .” her cheeks warmed, “like the color of your eyes.”

  “My father used to tell me about the giant fish.” His brows furrowed. “What were they called?”

  “Whales?”

  “Yes. That’s it.”

  For a long time he was quiet, his gaze never leaving hers. “So, what happened after you arrived from Holland?”

  She stared off at the skinned wall as her mind went back to those days, those days filled with big dreams, only to be snatched away in a breath. “My father died. He had a bad cough during the journey, but as soon as we arrived in New York, it got worse. They say it was pneumonia. Once he was gone, I had to live with my uncle. He was my mother’s brother. I’d never met him before.”

  “You must have been scared.”

  “Yes.” She stared down at her hands.

  He leaned down, trying to meet her gaze. “Did your uncle hurt you?”

  She searched his face, the concern evident in his eyes. She nodded.

  “Did he . . . touch you?” Anger darkened his features.

  “No.” She shook her head. “He just—he beat me.”

  “Why?”

  No one had ever asked her so many questions before. He seemed genuinely interested and concerned. Did he truly care?

  “He had a temper.” She didn’t dare tell him that she was a disappointment to him and that he just didn’t want her. She stared down at the blanket, tracing the geometrical shapes with her finger. Suppose White Eagle became disappointed in her too? Suppose later, he wouldn’t want her either?

  But he didn’t. He was going to take her to Denver. She didn’t know whether to be happy or sad.

  Fringes from his sleeve dangled across his thigh as his arm rested on his knee.

  She looked up at his face.

  The muscles in his jaw pulsed, and he seemed to contemplate all she’d just shared.

  Maybe he did care?

  Their eyes met, and he half smiled.

  Anna returned the half smile. Why had she come so far from the East? Why did she and her father come all the way from Holland? To find a new home, to find freedom—yet she’d found neither.

  “When will you take me home?” she whispered, testing him. Would he still take her there even though they were married? Even though all along he’d said he would?

  “We’ll leave after two sunrises.”

  She wasn’t sure how to feel about his answer. Yes, she wanted to go to Denver City more desperately than ever. But that meant losing him.

  He leaned back on his elbows, stretching out his long legs. “So, what made you decide to come all this way, to the West?”

  She took a deep, fortifying breath. “My father made sure I received a good education.” Thank goodness for conversation to distract them. She would try to make this one last. “I needed work, but didn’t have any experience, and my uncle rarely let me out of the house. In fact, my tutor was forced to come to the house to give me lessons. Since my father had already paid for my education, it was the school’s legal obligation to make sure I received one. My uncle tried to fight them and get the money, but he lost. When I learned that there was a need for teachers in the West, I decided this was an opportunity to find freedom.” She grinned. “I also wanted the adventure.”

  He chuckled. “You got your adventure, all right.”

  “Yes, I suppose I did.” She giggled and felt herself relax.

  “Two more nights, and I’ll take you to Denver City. Can you wait that long?”

  “Really?” She could hardly believe it. Her dream would finally be realized.

  “Yes,” he said, half smiling.

  “Then I can wait.” She sighed. “I hope I’ll still have work when I get there.” She bit her bottom lip. What would she do if she lost her job?

  “I’m sure you will,” he said. “You traveled far. They’re used to delays.”

  Because he seemed so certain, she didn’t question him. She held onto all the hope she could, but wondered how an Indian could have knowledge of such things. What did it matter? White Eagle was special. Compared to the others, he was rather—civilized.

  “Tonight Woman Of Sorrow will dine with Running Cloud’s sisters. We will go to Yellow Leaf and Song Bird’s lodge. Song Bird will have a meal waiting for us. Then later the entire village will celebrate the two weddings.” He stood. “I’ll show you where you’ll sleep.”

  He helped her to her feet, his hand warm and large around her own, and led her to one side of the lodge.

  “I made a bed here for you, and I’ll sleep on the other side. A husband and wife aren’t supposed to have physical contact until ten days after the wedding. So you don’t have to worry that I’ll touch you for at least ten days.”

  Anna gasped and glanced up at him. “But I’ll be gone before then.”

  “Yes.” His face hardened, the planes becoming more prominent. “You’ll be gone.” White Eagle’s eyes narrowed. “My people believe we’re married. It would be disgraceful and offensive to them if you slept in any other lodge. You can hang blankets from the stakes for privacy if you want, but during the day, I want them down.”

  She listened in silence. He was actually keeping his promise. Relief poured over her, and freedom sprang anew in her heart. Freedom from her uncle had been brief. Next thing she knew, she’d been kidnapped by Indians, losing her independence all over again. But now her captor would set her free.

  Willingly.

  She stared down at her wedding dress. Sadness mingled with joy.

  ~*~

  That evening a great celebration took place in honor of the newlyweds. Anna noticed Beth’s bright smile, indicating her joy, but when Anna took her hand, she felt it tremble.

  “I’m so nervous. What if he beats me?” Beth whispered below the laughter and singing of the celebration.

  Anna, in all her ignorance, wasn’t sure what words might comfort Beth. Thank goodness she didn’t have to worry about such things.

  “Why would he hurt you?”

  “Al was always cruel. If Running Cloud treats me worse, I couldn’t bear it. He’s a savage, after all. How gentle could he be?”

  “Use this waiting period to get to kn
ow him, to let him get to know you. I think that’s the idea of it anyway. You can tell him about your fears and maybe he’ll understand.”

  Beth nodded, worry still reflecting from her face. “He seemed genuinely interested when we talked today about my life before coming here. We had quite a time trying to understand each other. We finally resorted to drawing pictures on the ground.” She giggled, staring at the campfire in front of her.

  The dancing and singing of the Indians captured their attention. Feathers, horsehair, and other unusual ornaments waved from robes and clothing. She stared at the performers in the glow of the firelight.

  White Eagle grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. He spun her around and laughed.

  She giggled. “What are you doing?”

  “Dance with me!” His eyes sparkled.

  “But I don’t know how.”

  “Follow me.”

  He held her hand and led her around the fire. He raised a knee then placed his foot back on the ground, again and again as he showed her the steps.

  She pulled her focus from his moccasins and looked up at his handsome face.

  He grinned, and a warm comfort she’d never known before filled her heart. He continued staring at her, making her pulse race at the sight of his hair and feathers. She was in another world, a world in which she didn’t belong, and yet it seemed to draw her in, enticing her.

  ~*~

  That night, Anna sat cross-legged on thick buffalo robes in White Eagle’s lodge. White Eagle sat in front of her and dipped his finger into a small turtle skin of red paint. She watched the firelight dance on his arm as he reached over her. One by one, he carefully painted slashes on the sides of her forehead. Each time he reached over her, she held her breath as though she were about to go underwater.

  “Each line counts for one coup,” White Eagle murmured.

  “What’s a coup?” Anna asked. She’d heard that word several times, but had never understood its meaning.

  “When a brave fights in war, he carries a ‘coup stick.’ The idea is to strike an enemy without killing him, and without getting killed himself. It’s an act of great courage. Each time a brave does that, it’s counted as a coup. The more you have, the braver you are.”