Walks Alone

by Sandi Rog

  She thought how contradictory it was that she felt so safe and secure before him, while he boasted in paint about his feats as a warrior—feats against her own people. She watched as he dipped his finger and reached over her again. The firelight reflecting off the red paint made her think of blood. Those same fingers, those same large hands had killed men. And yet, he sat before her, a warrior whose hands could crush her, and treated her as if she were a delicate flower.

  “Do all couples do this on their wedding night?” she asked, her voice catching.

  White Eagle slowly painted another stripe with his finger, his touch warm and gentle, despite the roughness of his hands. “Oh, only the upper class and on special occasions like this.”

  “Are we upper class?” she asked, surprised at the thought. Did Indians have “classes” like civilized folk?

  “Yep.” White Eagle, studying her forehead, dipped his finger into the paint again. “The chief adopted you.” He gave her an amused look. “I think that’s as high class as you can get, don’t you?”

  Anna’s gaze followed White Eagle’s hand as he reached over her. Having lost count, she wondered how many stripes were already up there and what her forehead must look like.

  “You’re going to run out of room,” she said, looking up at his serious face and realizing she’d complimented him on his bravery.

  He grinned.

  That boyish smile never failed to stun her.

  Paint dripped from his finger onto her cheek.

  “Oh, sorry,” White Eagle whispered and grabbed a cloth. He dabbed the paint away, and then his hand stilled. Holding her in his gaze, he leaned closer and drew her chin up, his eyes intense and drinking her in.

  “Wife,” he said in Cheyenne, his tone low and husky. White Eagle’s lips hovered near hers.

  Again, that sense of going underwater enveloped her.

  She held her breath.

  Gently, their lips touched.

  Her first kiss. Her first wonderful, delightful, magnificent kiss.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Oh, it was marvelous,” Beth said the following morning as she knelt next to Anna by the lake. “I never realized a man could be so kind. We talked for hours, even if most of it was with our hands and drawing in the dirt.” She giggled. “I can’t believe he’s my husband.”

  Jealousy pinched Anna’s nerves. Her wedding was nothing but a farce in White Eagle’s mind. Really, she reminded herself, that was all she wanted. Anyway, that kiss would sustain her for a lifetime. She couldn’t expect more kisses since she didn’t belong here. Besides, she was truly happy for Beth. Her life with Running Cloud would be good. It made Anna feel better about leaving.

  “When we awoke this morning there were wedding gifts left outside our lodge.”

  “Really? For us too! Song Bird made a lovely blanket for us. It has the same geometrical designs woven on it as on our wedding clothes. It’s beautiful.” Anna bent back over her dress, making a few final repairs before she was to leave in the morning. “I wonder which gifts White Eagle will allow me to take to Denver?”

  Beth took the seam of Anna’s dress in her hands and continued working. “I’ll miss you,” she said, her tone quieting.

  “I’ll miss you too. I wish there was a way I could come visit, or you could come to Denver City.” Anna peered over the lake to her left, admiring the pines and the hills. “I have to admit. I’ll miss this place. It’s so beautiful here.”

  The needle slipped from her hand, and she leaned down to pick it up. When she straightened, she noticed an arrow protruding from the ground in front of her.

  Indian war cries pierced her ears. In the distance dust flew in the air and White Eagle and Running Cloud galloped toward them. War paint covered their faces and horses. Feathers waved behind them. It looked like they were aiming their rifles at Anna and Beth. Had the men changed their minds and decided to kill them both?

  Something punched Anna in the right shoulder. After a moment it burned like fire.

  Beth dropped the dress, stood with horror in her eyes, and screamed.

  Anna looked down at her pained shoulder. An arrow pierced her through. It had come from behind, and blood had splattered onto her newly cleaned dress—her blood. She stood. She couldn’t take her eyes off the arrow and sucked in panicked breaths.

  White Eagle and Running Cloud charged toward her and Beth; their rifles fired with loud explosions.

  Beth screamed.

  The hills behind White Eagle rippled like water as his feathers and black hair caught the wind. His eyes were aflame and a deep frown, like none she’d ever seen, etched on his face. If she hadn’t known the man, she might have fainted. His fierce gaze connected with hers as he leaped from his horse.

  “Back to village!” Running Cloud shouted amidst Beth’s screams.

  Anna’s ears rang. She felt faint. “Am I going to die?” she asked as White Eagle lifted her into his arms.

  He hurried with her to the village as Beth ran, wailing behind them.

  Anna’s shoulder burned like fire, and it hurt to move. She couldn’t even cling to his neck.

  “No, you’re not going to die,” he said. “Not if I can help it.” His voice was low and came from deep within his throat. “Get the healer!” he shouted at Beth.

  Beth ran to get the medicine man.

  White Eagle rushed Anna into his lodge and set her down on his bed. “Don’t move.”

  She heard a crack and felt a quick jerk of the arrow. It sent stings of pain through her shoulder. “What’d you do?”

  “I broke off its end so we can pull it out.”

  Her mouth went dry. The pain throbbed and sent waves of nausea through her body. He whipped out his dagger and quickly cut through her buckskin dress, exposing her shoulder. He examined the wound, and without warning, he pulled out the arrow. She gasped as blood poured over her skin. Did a hole really go right through her body?

  Firmly, he pressed thick wads of cloth on both sides of her wound, clamping her shoulder between his strong hands. “You’re going to be just fine, Anna,” he said as he rested his cheek against hers. “You’ll be just fine.” He kept repeating the words, and something in his tone made her wonder if he meant what he said or if he was just trying to convince himself.

  A wave of dizziness swept over her. A hole pierced her body. She shivered and suddenly felt cold. Her hands became clammy. “I don’t feel very well,” she said, her cheek still pressed against his rough jaw. Her tongue felt thick, and her speech sounded slurred. Her ears buzzed. Dark clouds filled her vision then blackness consumed her.

  ~*~

  Anna fell limp in White Eagle’s arms. Her soft cheek pressed against his, and his throat tightened.

  “Don’t die, Anna.” The words were a mere whisper, but he felt like he’d shouted them. He feared the worst. What if the bleeding didn’t stop? Suppose infection set in?

  The medicine man came into the lodge with his wife and Beth close behind. He and his wife knelt over Anna, laying out their medicines, and when the bleeding slowed, they encouraged White Eagle to release her.

  White Eagle stood near the door flap and watched. The loss of his father had been painful, but for some reason it hadn’t been nearly as painful as when his mother had died. He knew it wasn’t because he loved one more than the other. It was the memory of holding his mother’s lifeless body that made her death hurt so much. Sometimes he could still smell her, and that was partly why he’d avoided women. But now Anna shared the scent of a Cheyenne woman. The fragrance of sweet grass and sage had swept over him as he carried her to his lodge, and the same pain, the same grief consumed him.

  He had sworn in his heart to protect her, but like with the baby at Sand Creek, he had failed.

  Back then Chivington and his soldiers were the threat, now it was his own friend. Black Bear’s arrow had hit her. Anger swallowed his grief. It no longer mattered that Black Bear was Running Cloud’s brother.

  Torment boiled in his
veins as he looked at Anna’s limp body. Blood matted in her hair. Her small form lay helpless with her hands lifeless at her sides, small hands like his mother’s. The room shuddered with violent heat, and a red cloud of anger colored his vision. He would avenge his wife.

  He stormed out of the lodge.

  Today, Black Bear would die.

  ~*~

  White Eagle dismounted. He pulled the horse’s reins as he wound his way through the woods. Images of Anna’s body mingled with images of his mother’s lifeless one. His mother had been a small woman, much like Anna. Anna’s blood, bright red on her shoulder, brought back memories of the blood he saw on his mother. Only his mother’s wound had been in her back from the shots of a rifle. He tried to shake the memories from his mind as he searched for Black Bear. But the memories wouldn’t go away.

  He couldn’t find her; he’d been looking for her. The burned down lodges had surrounded him. He’d felt lost in the carnage. But desperation forced him to take each step, to not give up. There was a chance she still might be alive.

  So he kept going, kept searching.

  He’d plodded through the village and called for her. “Nahko’e!” His ragged voice nearly gave way to his repressed wails.

  She didn’t answer.

  A silver chain, half buried in the dirt, had caught his eye. He picked it up and drew it over his hand. A turquoise sparrow fell onto his palm. His mother’s necklace. His heart beat in his ears as his gaze darted from one body to another.

  There she lay, face down, her braids strewn over her blood-soaked dress. He stumbled over to her and dropped to his knees. With quivering hands, he turned her over. From under her, a young child screamed, her brown eyes large and frightened. The little girl clung to his neck.

  “Me’êševôtse, my baby!” a woman’s voice shrieked from behind. The woman stumbled over to Jean-Marc and snatched the child from him. “Runs With Wind!” She hugged the little girl to her chest and ran away, wailing.

  He turned back to his mother. Her eyes, once warm and brown, stared past him, lifeless and gray. A braid had fallen across her ashen cheek, and wrapped around it was the colorful leather band she always wore. He moved the long strips of leather from her placid face.

  “Mother?”

  No answer.

  His throat tightened. He brushed his bloodstained knuckles against her cold cheek, and his lips began to tremble.

  “Nahko’e!” An anguished wail ripped from his throat. He hugged his mother, her arms dangling at her sides. He rocked back and forth, crying, taking in her familiar scent of sweet grass and sage, hoping beyond reason that she would awaken, embrace him, tell him all would be well. His whole body shook as he sobbed. “Nahko’eehe.”

  “They’re coming back!” someone shouted in the distance.

  Jean-Marc glanced up and saw chief Black Kettle struggling to lift his wounded wife over his shoulder. He stopped long enough to notice Jean-Marc and motioned for him to follow.

  Jean-Marc kissed his mother and gently laid her on the ground. He untied the leather band from her braid, clenched it in his fist, and ran with Black Kettle to safety.

  ~*~

  White Eagle saw no signs of the enemy. He had chased Black Bear a few miles from the village, and Running Cloud still hadn’t joined him. Had he been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t paid proper attention? Where could they be? The eerie silence cloaked around him like a thick buffalo robe.

  Shots cracked and echoed over the mountain. They came from the direction of the village. More shots fired. White Eagle’s heart went to his throat.

  Anna.

  White Eagle galloped into the circle of the village where he spotted Running Cloud and the sole female warrior, Beaver Claws, waiting with their rifles at their sides. He jerked so hard on the reins that his horse rose on his hind legs.

  “Where is he?” White Eagle shouted.

  “Black Bear is gone,” Beaver Claws said, anger evident on her face.

  “We lost him.” Running Cloud motioned toward the trees. “He won’t stop until Woman Of Sorrow, you, and Walks Alone are dead.”

  “He’s gone mad! Fighting against his own!” His horse danced in agitation, and White Eagle’s mind heated with rage. “He’d destroy his own people? He’s gone too far!”

  Running Cloud straightened.

  White Eagle watched his friend, noticing a change that he couldn’t explain. A calm, meaningful realization reflected from his gaze, and his eyes locked on White Eagle’s.

  “He is ruled by anger.”

  The words were said with an authority that startled White Eagle. As if they carried a warning that was meant for him and not Black Bear.

  White Eagle tightened his grip on his reins. “It’s not safe here. I have to go to Crystal Springs. I’m taking Walks Alone with me.”

  The wind rustled a feather over Running Cloud’s shoulder and his horse’s head bobbed. “She’ll endanger our village with the knowledge she has of us.”

  “She’ll keep quiet. Besides, she’s mine now.” White Eagle wheeled his horse and galloped away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Anna’s eyes fluttered opened, sleep still weighing down her limbs. Had she been sleeping for days? The fire from the center of the lodge lit up the walls, casting long shadows about the room. It must have been night. Her body felt like lead weights held it down. When she struggled to sit up, pain shot through her shoulder, neck, and arm.

  “Be still.” White Eagle’s voice came to her ear. He put a damp cloth on her head. “You’re not well.”

  “You’re alive.” She tried to lift her arms, but she couldn’t move. “Is the fight over?” Obviously the fight was over, White Eagle and Running Cloud had survived, but she excused herself with delirium.

  “Lie back down, love. You need to rest.”

  The lodge spun, and a chill came over her. When she pulled on the blankets, her shoulder pinched in pain.

  “Lie still. Your wound is healing, and you have a fever.” He pulled the blankets over her body and tucked her in.

  A sense of warmth and comfort swept through her. The danger was gone. She was safe. He was safe. She nestled in closer and rested, listening to the sounds of his humming and his breathing. In and out, until his breath became like the wind. It carried her up into a mass of comforting clouds. The clouds folded around her, circling her like a blanket, and their scent was White Eagle.

  But the cloudy blanket tightened around her, nearly suffocating her. She pushed herself free. The cloud pulled away and became a billowy cave, forming a long tunnel.

  Wicked laughter echoed across the sky. Anna turned and saw Uncle Horace and his dark eyes closing in on her. He brandished a long, sharp ring.

  Anna turned to run, but her feet sank into the cloud. She trudged to the light, knowing her father and their new home were on the other side.

  Breathless, she glanced in Uncle Horace’s direction. He hovered behind her, his cold smile chilling her to the bone. She tried to run faster, but her feet sank deeper. With his dagger-like ring, he punched her in the shoulder.

  Anna cried out, the pain overwhelming. Her uncle laughed as he grabbed her chin. “No one could love you. Your father didn’t love you. You were too much for him. You killed him. That’s why he sent you to live with me!”

  His hands were on her face, in her hair. She fought him.

  “Wake up!” White Eagle’s voice came from her uncle’s lips.

  She opened her eyes, struggling against a solid shadow.

  “Anna, it’s me,” White Eagle said.

  Where was she? She searched the darkness.

  “You had a nightmare.” White Eagle’s voice came close to her ear. She was in his lodge. It was only a dream. But the pain in her shoulder was real. She wept.

  White Eagle held her in his arms, where she felt small and safe, and whispered words of comfort. She didn’t understand his words. He wasn’t speaking English or Cheyenne, but he spoke in soothing tones. “Pray to
your God, Anna. He will comfort you.”

  Pray? Where’d White Eagle get such a notion? “God doesn’t answer prayers.” She cried. “Not mine, anyway.”

  White Eagle’s hug tightened.

  ~*~

  Sun pervaded the room, and Anna slowly eased up in bed. She took a drink of tea the medicine man had left at her side. It felt cool and refreshing to her lips. Her shoulder throbbed, but her body didn’t ache anymore, which told her she’d get well.

  She glanced around the lodge. She lay in White Eagle’s bed, his blankets and skins draped over and around her. Then she saw a book. Her mother’s Bible. Had it fallen out of her carpetbag? She couldn’t remember. It must have. Since White Eagle couldn’t read, who else would have been reading it? Guilt seized her. She hadn’t read her mother’s Bible since she left Uncle Horace’s. How could she be so thoughtless, so wicked? And yet, so much had happened since the day she left. Still, that was no excuse. However, getting kidnapped by Indians seemed like a fine excuse. Although, if she heeded Beth’s words then she should have been drawing closer to God during this difficult time.

  White Eagle entered the lodge and came to her bedside. He knelt down next to her. “How do you feel?”

  “Much better, thank you.” Her voice was hoarse and her limbs weak.

  “You look better,” he said and brushed his large hand through her hair.

  She didn’t pull away from his touch. He had shown her such care and devotion, she couldn’t imagine telling him to stay away. He was the first person, other than her father, who ever took care of her.

  Moving closer, he took her hand in his. He opened his fist, revealing a silver ring with a turquoise stone in the shape of a sparrow. His gaze held hers as he slipped the ring onto her finger.