by Sandi Rog
“I knew it’d fit,” he said.
“It’s beautiful.”
“Now you have a ring.” He grinned.
She swallowed hard. He repeated her own flippant words from the day of their wedding. “I’m so ashamed. I don’t deserve a ring. We’re not even really married.” At least he didn’t think they were. She didn’t understand him at all.
He cupped her cheek in his hand. “You deserve much more than a ring.”
She didn’t know what to make of his words, so she just smiled. She liked the ring and was glad she would have something to take to Denver City as a reminder of her experience with him and his people. Whether it’d been good or bad, it was a memory she would always cherish. And he was her husband after all, so wasn’t a ring appropriate? It’d certainly ensure no other man would come near her.
“Tell me something.” White Eagle spoke with such seriousness that Anna felt she could tell him anything. “What prayers didn’t your God answer?”
Anna’s careless words from that night jolted through her. Perhaps White Eagle wanted to know more about her God? If so, she needed to make a good impression. But how could she make up for accusing God of not answering her prayers? Then the answer hit her.
She looked down at her hands, at the beautiful ring he’d given her. “He did answer my prayers. He simply said, ‘no.’”
“‘No’ to what?”
She took in a deep breath. “No to setting me free from my uncle and sparing me of his abuse.”
White Eagle furrowed his brows and studied her. “But he did answer your prayers.”
Anna shook her head, not understanding.
“You’re free from him now. He’s not beating you anymore.” He shrugged. “So He did answer you, just not as quickly as you’d hoped.”
White Eagle’s words sent a cold realization of truth over her. She gasped as she searched his face.
He simply smiled and nodded.
Tears sprang to her eyes. “You’re right,” she whispered, questions suddenly bombarding her from all sides. “But . . . .”
“What?”
“I did it myself. I sewed in secret and earned my own money so I could leave.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Ma’heo’o made it possible.”
Anna pondered his words. God opened and closed doors whenever He wished. He could have kept her from earning enough money to leave.
But she had been so scared, hiding in closets, under her bed. Anything to get away from her terrifying uncle. She clenched her fists as she stifled the anger that rose within her, knowing full well this wasn’t an appropriate question for a heathen. Where was God all those years? Why didn’t He rescue her sooner? And why was she here at this village married to a man who would never be hers, a man who didn’t even want her, a man who didn’t love her like a husband ought to love his wife, when she could be in Denver City? Didn’t God realize how important Denver was to her?
“Why did He take so long?” she asked.
White Eagle’s eyes clouded with . . . was it guilt? “Maybe this life isn’t about you.”
“What?” His words were like a slap in the face. “How can you say that?” Her anger began to rear its ugly head. “This is my life, and from the time I’ve been with Uncle Horace it’s been awful, a nightmare!” She shook with pain. Nobody ever loved her but her father. And now her own husband didn’t want her. “What did I do to deserve this?” Silently she referred also to her kidnapping, to Black Bear’s arrow, and to her marriage. A marriage she would be bound to for life. A life of loneliness and misery.
“Maybe you’re here for someone else.” White Eagle said, his tone hinting at something deeper, something she didn’t understand.
But she was too angry to ask. Too hurt to discuss it any further.
~*~
Two weeks passed before Anna was finally free to bathe in the lake. Her wound was closed, and she longed to dip in the cool waters.
Her whole being trembled as she neared the place where she’d been shot. The other women walked ahead to where trees and shrubs hovered slightly over the lake’s edge. She followed and watched as they stripped out of their dresses and got into the water. She purposely wore her chemise under her dress. Even with only women around, she wasn’t comfortable stripping down to nothing in broad daylight.
The other women giggled as she slowly eased into the water wearing her chemise. She shrugged off their amusement and joined in the chuckles. The cold water sent shivers all over her body, but it felt refreshing against her skin and numbed her aches. She swam around the women, but her movements brought pain to her shoulder, so she floated on her back.
Beth and the other women played in the water, splashing and teasing one another.
Anna kept her distance and worked her way to deeper waters, away from the excitement. She just wanted to soak up the quiet and coolness. She had no desire to use more energy than necessary.
Several minutes had passed when Beth called to her. “Anna, we’re finished. It’s time to get out.”
“Go without me,” she said, still floating on her back and staring up into the clouds. She hadn’t felt this alive in a long time.
“You shouldn’t be alone, Anna. I’ll send White Eagle after you if you don’t come now.”
Anna ignored the warning, wanting to revel in the coolness of the water as her hair floated all around her. She stared up at the clouds and watched the different shapes. They were so white and fluffy, and if she imagined real hard, she might be able to reach up and touch one. The warm air feathered against her cool cheeks, the blue sky hovered over her like a warm blanket, and the sounds of birds singing in the trees echoed around the lake.
The voices of the other women faded as they returned to the village, and just then a snap of fear chilled her from head to toe.
She was alone.
Alone at the lake where she’d nearly lost her life. Her breath caught in her throat, and she sank under the water. She came up for air, treaded, and she looked toward shore. Shocks of pain stabbed her shoulder. The water suddenly felt colder, and she shivered.
No one was there. The women had left her, including Beth. How could they do that to her? And yet, they did say they were leaving, and she’d refused to go. But she didn’t realize how frightened she’d become once all alone.
Her heart pounded in her chest, and her shoulder throbbed. She had gotten too far from shore and was now too weak to swim toward shallow water. The only way she could get there was to float on her back as she had been doing the whole time. But she didn’t want to turn on her back, for fear someone or something might try to attack her.
Just then, she spotted White Eagle jogging to the lake’s shore.
“Help me!” she cried just before she sank under. The water was clear. Had it been murky she might have become even more frightened. What if something or someone was in the water waiting for her? Her shoulder pained her too much to keep treading. She broke the surface and sucked in air, only to go under again.
White Eagle’s hands clamped around her waist, and he forced her above water.
She gulped in air and clung to him. Her hands trembled on his shoulders, wet strands of hair streaming over her eyes. “I don’t want to be alone, not here.”
“You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.” He kissed her and nearly took both of them back under. A warmth of comfort swelled through her system.
He broke away, gripping her about the waist and treading to stay afloat.
“I can swim now, if you just stay with me.”
He nodded and stayed right next to her, giving her a push every once in a while as she floated on her back toward shore. If she wasn’t so cold from the water, she might have blushed from that surprising kiss, not to mention from her silly predicament.
“Forgive me. I shouldn’t have come out so far, and I should have gone with the others. I didn’t realize I would become so scared.” Thoughts of her old adventurous spirit came to mind. She gave a ha
lf-hearted chuckle. “I’ve come this far from the East all by myself, you’d think I’d have courage enough to go for a swim.” She shivered. “I’m sorry for being so foolish.”
When they reached shallow water, he put his arm around her waist and helped her toward dry land. Thank goodness she had her chemise on. But her whole body stiffened when she looked down at the fabric clinging to her every curve and leaving little to the imagination. Would she never learn? Well, this was better than having nothing on at all. Still, she hugged her arms around herself.
“You’re the bravest white woman I know,” he said.
She looked up into his warm eyes. He gave her a look that told her she had a friend. One who understood what was in her heart. She didn’t have to be strong around him, and he would still care about her.
She avoided his gaze. If he cared about her, why didn’t he want her?
“Will we leave for Denver City soon?” she practically choked out the words, wondering if he’d changed his mind, but at the same time hoping he didn’t. It was almost as though she no longer wanted to go, but how could that be? It was her dream and the only place that offered her what she wanted and needed. Or was it? How could she doubt something that had always been so certain?
“Not until you’re better.” His gaze flickered over her body.
Aware of her appearance all over again, she hugged herself tighter.
“It’s a hard trip, and you need to be strong.”
She didn’t like his answer, though she knew he was right.
He snatched her dress up from a rock and draped it over her. He then turned toward the village.
Weariness came over her as they made their way back, and her limbs felt like boulders. He must have noticed for he lifted her into his arms. She didn’t fight it and reveled in the comfort of his strength.
It should only take a couple more days to heal, then they would be on their way—she hoped. But right now, since she felt so exhausted, as soon as she got out of her wet clothes, she would take a nap.
Several days passed before Anna was able to get around without growing weary. She helped with light chores and managed to carry one kettle to and from the lake early in the morning. Though she felt better, her shoulder was still bruised, and White Eagle insisted she wasn’t yet ready for the hard journey to Denver City.
Her hopes were dashed. She knew no job would be waiting for her when she finally got there.
~*~
The baby’s body lay still on the cold earth. Blood colored the snow beneath him.
Jean-Marc fumbled to reset his bow and arrow, swallowing, but his throat became dry.
He’d never forgive himself.
He aimed at the man who killed the child. He let the arrow fly; it went through the man’s neck. The soldier drooped and fell.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jean-Marc spotted Running Cloud and Black Bear sneaking across the bank. Their war cries pierced his ears as they shot the other two soldiers.
Jean-Marc stumbled down the bank. He dared not look at the toddler’s body as he swiped away his tears.
He should have saved that baby’s life.
He had failed.
He grabbed the reins of the fallen soldier’s mount and climbed on. Cracks like thunder came from the other side of the village, but on this side no other soldiers could be seen.
He had to find his mother.
He charged into the village as Black Bear and Running Cloud’s war cries followed behind. Black Kettle’s American flag waved in the smoke. Below it hung the white flag that signified peace, a promise that the village would not be harmed. But at the base of the pole lay the dead bodies of women, elderly men, and children. Moans and cries carried through the air from those who still suffered from their wounds.
Jean-Marc urged his mount toward the fighters and readied his arrow. He spotted two braves kneeling in the distance, aiming their arrows at the soldiers, fighting to defend the village. Smoke burned his eyes as he galloped between smoldering lodges. Tears blurred his vision as he took aim at a blue coat. The arrow missed.
Running Cloud’s cry caught his attention. Jean-Marc swiveled around and saw him fall from his horse. Running Cloud rolled on the ground, his body curling in obvious pain. A soldier hurried to stand over him and fumbled with his rifle. Black Bear was nowhere to be seen.
Jean-Marc grabbed the tomahawk from his belt, wheeled his horse, and galloped toward the soldier. He swung his leg over the saddle, leaped from the beast and landed on the soldier’s back. He sliced the man’s throat, and the rifle fired.
They plummeted, twirling to the ground. The man’s weight slammed onto Jean-Marc, forcing the wind out of his lungs. He shoved the heavy, bleeding soldier off his body and gulped in air. The pressure in his chest made it almost impossible to breathe, but as he held his breath, he climbed to his feet.
Another soldier lunged at him with a saber.
Jean-Marc spun as pain sliced across his ribcage.
He cried out, but his lungs were like stone, and silence met the air. He dropped to his knees and grasped the wound, realizing that the sword only tore the surface of his flesh.
The man swung back his weapon for the final blow.
In one fluid movement, Jean-Marc threw his tomahawk at the man’s chest.
The soldier stepped back, dropping his saber, and collapsed to the ground.
Jean-Marc’s hands trembled, and his chest and lungs burned like fire. He staggered to his feet as the sounds of gunshots faded. He searched for another threat. There was none. He spotted Running Cloud climbing to his knees—alive.
The pressure in Jean-Marc’s chest diminished, and he sucked in air. Smoke filled his lungs, strangling him, and the stench of death filled his nostrils.
His mother.
He stumbled toward his family’s lodge, gasping for air, but became disoriented by the fallen homes and burnt-out lodges. He looked behind him and from side-to-side. Dead bodies of people he knew lay wasting on the ground.
Through blurred vision, he scanned the markings on the lodges that were left standing. Recognizing them, he trudged his way through the carnage toward home. It was still intact with the buffalo skin stretched into a point high above him.
He pulled away the skin flap and peered inside, trembling with the thoughts of what he might find. A small fire flickered, casting light about the wide room, warming the place. His books, stacked in a pile on his bed, showed no signs of an attack, and the blankets were folded where his mother had slept. Then he saw his grandmother sitting next to her own bed, slumped over a pool of blood.
“Grandmother?” His voice came from deep within his throat.
Silence.
He crept across the room and knelt in front of her. Slowly, he reached out and placed his fingers beneath her chin; her silver braid brushed against his arm as he raised her head.
She was gone.
He’d never seen a dead person before, not someone who’d been murdered. She looked like she was sleeping sitting up, as she so often did. To find her this way almost seemed natural. But the fact that she sat in her own blood, and the fact that she wasn’t really asleep, made this whole nightmare stand still.
The reality he once knew no longer existed. And this new reality had yet to completely unfold.
He scanned the lodge again. His mother, nowhere to be seen.
He forced himself to leave and ducked under the lodge’s flap. His nose burned as he held back tears.
His grandmother. Gone.
He refused to cry. He plodded through the village and called for his mother. He barely realized that he’d stepped over a body as he tried not to look at the small child who had been thrown onto the stakes above a lodge.
He glanced from side to side to avoid another threat, but the danger was gone, the battle was over.
Silence. And the sounds of death carried on the air.
“White Eagle,” a soft voice called. He turned to the voice, but saw no one. No soldiers. Just lodges
and blood. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted his grandmother. She sat outside a lodge, someone else’s lodge, his lodge, the lodge he owned in the mountains. What was she doing there? She was alive. He hurried to her.
“White Eagle,” his grandmother said, but it wasn’t her voice. He knelt before her and she placed her palm on his cheek. “Wake up,” she said. He touched her hand, but it wasn’t hers. It was too soft, too small. “You’re having a nightmare.” This time his grandmother’s lips didn’t move. Where was the voice? “White Eagle, wake up.” The soft voice reverberated through his mind.
White Eagle’s eyes opened. The hint of a yellow braid draped over Anna’s shoulder, her hand on his cheek, his hand over hers. He pushed up on his elbow.
“You had a bad dream,” she said, stroking his cheek. Her scent of sweet grass and sage wafted over him.
The scent of a woman.
“It was no dream.” His throat tightened as he stood.
She moved back. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” He ducked from the lodge. His words came out stronger than he’d intended, and she’d probably think he was angry. But he had to get away. He had to get away from that scent, from the memories.
From her.
Chapter Fifteen
A few weeks later, Anna walked hand in hand with Runs With Wind toward the lake. She made herself come here as often as possible in order to face her fear. As a child, she’d never feared the water, but this water caused a certain dread to turn in her stomach. She knew it was foolish. And that’s why she forced herself to come to the very spot she’d nearly lost her life. Runs With Wind, seeming to sense her uneasiness, leaned her chin against Anna’s arm.
Children laughed and played around them, as if nothing terrible had ever happened in this place.
“Me’êševôtse!” A woman’s voice shrieked, echoing off the hills and lake.
Anna turned to see a woman running amongst the children along the shore, searching frantically. The woman stopped and screamed, pointing in shock at the water.