by Sandi Rog
“I’ve been thinking.” Running Cloud’s voice carried to them. “About what happened between Beaver Claws and Walks Alone in the woods.” He sauntered up to White Eagle’s horse. “She doesn’t have the courage to touch prairie turtles, but she has the courage to fight Beaver Claws?” He chuckled and patted the horse. “Walks Alone is a brave woman.”
White Eagle forced a frown, despite the pride he felt. But now he also felt shame. Shame with himself for not protecting her, for not being aware of what happened.
“Beaver Claws said she was a brave fighter. News of their fight has fanned through the village like a prairie fire,” Running Cloud said, laughter in his voice, and a glimmer in his eyes that told White Eagle he knew of his ignorance.
“A prairie fire that never reached my lodge,” White Eagle finally said. “Husbands are always the last to know.” He nodded his appreciation to them both.
After saying goodbye, he turned to his horse. Never had he been more pleased, knowing his woman, his Walks Alone, was the only woman to ever stand up to one of the few female warriors, Beaver Claws. And to his amusement and pleasure, by doing just that, she’d managed to gain the woman’s respect. No, she likely still didn’t like Walks Alone, or Woman Of Sorrow for that matter, but she respected them, both of them.
And now that everyone in his village respected her, he was taking her away, taking her to a place he could never belong, taking her to a place that hated him and his people. All he had to do was break his word, but it’d be wrong. Just as his father always said, his yes must be yes, and his no must be no. Besides, she didn’t believe in their marriage and would never be truly happy until she made it to Denver City.
Misery consumed him.
~*~
When they set out for Denver City, White Eagle had given Anna her own horse to ride. She missed riding with him on horseback, missed the comfort and warmth of his nearness. Now the distance between them had grown, and not just because they didn’t share a horse.
Still, she couldn’t help but think she should enjoy this trip much more than the first. After all, she was finally going home. But by the end of the day, she became worried. White Eagle had hardly spoken to her the entire journey. She’d tried to be pleasant, only to receive a gruff, blank stare in return.
In the distance, a white billowy cloud rolled over a red, yellow, and green mountaintop. It made her think of cream spilling into tea, swirling into brightly colored teacups. She never realized trees could be so colorful. It was as if God had taken a paintbrush to the entire mountainside, stroking in autumn shades, contrasting them with the green pines, white clouds, and blue sky.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” she said.
White Eagle said nothing and kept his back to her.
“Please talk to me,” she said. “You’ve hardly said a word all day.”
Silence filled the air, and she might as well have been talking to the trees. Feathers and leather waved in his raven hair as she stared at his back. The fringes on his shirt shifted below his shoulders, but he otherwise remained still and silent as a rock.
When she caught a glimpse of his profile, he wore a blank expression, and it ate at her that he refused to talk. She knew she’d made him angry, but she’d hoped that by now he’d be over it. After all, it’d been the plan from the beginning that he’d take her home. What was the point in putting it off?
A cloud cast its shadow over the side of a mountain when they made their way through evergreens, only emphasizing the gloom she sensed from White Eagle. Leaves fell helplessly to the ground, and Anna couldn’t help but empathize with their predicament. It was as if, like the dying leaf, she were falling, drifting away from the only one she’d ever be able to call her husband. And all he could do was ignore her, just like the horses ignored the leaves, crunching them under their hooves. As the day wore on, more dark clouds rolled in, and lightning streaks filled the sky. Just over a clearing, rain cried over the land in the distance. Despite her misery, it was a beautiful sight.
“We need to take cover,” White Eagle said, finally breaking the silence.
“It’s nice to know you still have a voice.”
He shot her a dark look, and she shivered. Still, it was better than no words at all. At least he knew she was alive.
He turned to lead them through a thick patch of trees just as trickles of rain began to fall. She ducked under protective branches, dodging the pellets of rain, until they came to a rocky slope. It came together with another slope and formed a covered crevice between the two.
Thunder cracked across the sky. The winds picked up, and the rain quickened its pace. White Eagle dismounted and reached to help Anna down from her horse. A sudden shower of water rushed over them as she slid between his arms to the ground. It was as though somebody had dumped a horse trough of cold water over her.
“Get in the cave,” he said as he gathered their belongings from the horses. He tossed the rolled blankets into the cavern then turned to collect the rest of their things.
Thunder exploded in her ears, and lightning flashed. One of the horses bucked and charged. White Eagle grabbed for the animal, but the horse got away and galloped through the trees.
She sprang out of the shelter to help, only to receive another wild blast of wind and rain. “What do we do now?”
White Eagle pointed her back in the cave. “Stay there!” He grabbed hold of the remaining horse’s reins, guided it toward the cave’s mouth, and handed Anna her carpetbag and other belongings.
“Wait here,” he said. He mounted and whisked away between the trees.
She scrutinized the cave. It was fairly deep and offered enough protection from the elements, though shadows cloaked the back, making it too dark for comfort. She spread a blanket on the ground away from the back and shivered. The light would soon fade, and the cool evening air already chilled her to the bone. She perched atop a damp blanket, pulled another around her, and waited.
Rain pellets clapped the ground so hard she could barely hear herself breathe. She searched the trees, hoping for any movement or sign of White Eagle as she huddled with her knees pulled up to her chin. The sun faded in the dark sky, taking her courage with it. Loneliness seeped off the cave’s walls, crawled over the ground, and wrapped it’s icy fingers around her. What if he never returned? What if something happened to him? She wouldn’t know where or how to find him. Then what would she do? What if a wild animal came for her while he was gone? What if . . .
White Eagle’s form appeared in the opening of the cave.
She jumped up and ran to him. “Did you find the horse?” she asked, touching his arm. He was soaking wet and cold.
“No.” He walked past her and began stripping out of his shirt.
“What can I do to help?” she asked, shivering from his chilled tone but relieved that he’d returned safely.
“Look for dry branches. There should be a stack of them in the back. We need a fire.”
She searched the cave in the dim light, following along the cold stone wall. It was difficult to see, so she crouched down and searched with stiff hands. Every so often flashes of lightning from outside lit up the cave just enough for her to catch a glimpse of their surroundings. Three rolls of buffalo skins lay near the far wall.
“Look in the back,” White Eagle said.
She crept farther toward the back of the cave. What if she found a rodent? Or even worse, a snake? She focused her mind on White Eagle and his need to get warm. Finally, her hands brushed against a stack of branches.
“Here, I found some.” She carried several branches to the center of the cave, and White Eagle arranged them on the ground. She backed away to collect more.
Soon his fire horn had made a fire and smoke filled the air. Flames ate at the branches and glowed before them, casting shadows on the walls and illuminating White Eagle’s bare chest as he squatted before the fire in his leggings.
Her eyes took on a will of their own. What might it be like to touch him? Her gaze
fluttered to his face.
He watched her.
Cheeks flaming, she turned away. Holding the blanket tightly around her, she settled on the ground against the hard wall.
“Stay near the fire. It won’t last long. We should build up heat between us.”
“How do we do that?”
He stood. “Bring your blanket and come here.”
The downpour echoed throughout the cave between the cracks of thunder as she shuffled over to him. A flash of lightning lit them up and then vanished.
“Are you warmed up yet?” she asked, practically shouting over the rain, worried that he might become sick from the cold.
“Not yet.” He took her by the elbow. “You need to get out of those wet clothes.”
She stopped.
“You’ll get sick.”
She hadn’t realized just how wet she was. Even her blanket was wet. When she moved to get her buttonhook from her carpetbag, a bloodcurdling scream filled the air. A chill coursed up her spine. “What was that?” Another scream ripped through the forest, like the sound of a terrified woman, and Anna nearly joined in.
White Eagle cupped her face in his hands. “It’s a cougar. You’re safe.”
“A cougar?”
Another shrill carried through the trees.
“And what was that?” she asked.
“That was the horse.”
She clung to him, and he held her close.
“I have to get him,” he said.
“Please, don’t leave me.”
He looked toward the sound then back at her. He lunged toward his leather satchel and yanked out a revolver. “Do you know how to use one of these?”
“No.” She shook her head, staring at the large gun.
He held it in front of her. “First you cock the hammer like this, and aim.” With one hand, he cocked it and aimed at the wall of the cave. “Then you pull the trigger.” Instead of pulling the trigger, he released the hammer and handed her the heavy gun. He moved away and grabbed his rifle. “Stay here, and stay by the fire.”
“But—”
“Do as I say and you’ll be safe!” He gave her such a fierce look, she didn’t dare argue. “Stay by the fire,” he said again, his voiced calmed. He stepped toward her again, and his look softened. “Remember what I said about the coyotes?”
She nodded, recalling his words that they were safe as long as they stayed by the fire.
He lightly brushed her cheek and then left, disappearing between the trees.
She stood holding the heavy revolver in her quivering hands. It felt cold to the touch, and ever so dangerous. She examined its smooth octagonal barrel and brushed her fingers over an engraving on the cylinder where a scene depicted battling naval vessels.
After settling back on the ground, she shivered as the creepy walls closed in around her again. Two loud blasts shot through the air and she jumped. Was that White Eagle’s rifle, or was it thunder? She couldn’t be sure. After more lonely minutes passed, she finally saw White Eagle’s shadow moving through the pines as he led the limping horse beside him. The lightning revealed torn flesh on the horse’s leg, reaching his flank.
White Eagle motioned for her to give him the revolver.
She ran up to him, blasts of water splattered against her face.
“You’re not going to kill him are you?” she shouted above the rain.
“I have to. He’s suffering.” Steam came from the horse’s nostrils and his flanks twitched and trembled.
“But can’t we—” A huge piece of flesh hung from the animal’s side, and she froze at the sight.
Reluctantly, she handed White Eagle the revolver and stepped back. He spoke words of comfort to the horse and took him a distance away from where she stood, disappearing with the animal behind the trees.
Back in the cave, Anna trembled near the fire, watching the dark forest.
The explosion of the revolver echoed over the mountaintops and between the trees, sounding not much different than the cracks of thunder above them. Then all went silent, except for the pattering of rain on the ground. She tried to swallow the knot that filled her throat, but it grew, threatening to explode in wails. The thunder rolled and shook, rattling her ribcage. Suppose whatever got the horse would get him? She shivered at the thought as water dripped from her clothes to the floor. She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the cold, praying for his safety.
Finally, with drooped shoulders, White Eagle returned to the cave. She threw herself at him. “You’re safe!” What had attacked the horse? Was it really a cougar? She was too frightened to ask. She didn’t want to know. All that mattered was that White Eagle was safe. He didn’t tremble and seemed calm and unafraid. He didn’t seem worried about the dangers outside, so she shouldn’t either.
Still, she clung to him, hoping his calmness might rub off on her.
He pulled her close and stroked her hair. Her tears blended in with the rain on his bare chest as she held onto him, unable to control her quivering. He warmed her despite the cold water dripping from his body.
“You’re cold,” he said, breaking the silence. The downpour outside steadied, but thunder and occasional flashes of lightning quaked through the woods.
Yes, she was cold, but she didn’t care. She just hoped he’d never let her go. Never allow her to live without him.
“You have to get out of these clothes.” He stepped away, studying her with concern pulling on his features. He then went to the back of the cave, unrolled a buffalo skin, and held it up like a wall before her and the fire. “I won’t look.”
Wet material clung to her skin, and when shivers prickled up and down her back, her teeth began to chatter.
“You need to take it off.” He motioned to her with his chin.
“But I don’t have anything else to wear. All my clothes are wet.” The blankets were also wet.
“Why didn’t you wear the clothes Song Bird gave you?” He let the buffalo skin fall and picked up her bundle.
“They were leggings. It’s improper.”
“Wear them tomorrow.” He shook them out and laid them on a boulder protruding from the wall. “You wouldn’t be so cold if you’d worn them.”
She nodded, too chilled and tired to argue.
He came back and held up the robe, turning his face to the ground.
Anna crept between the robe and the fire and quickly got out of her wet clothes. She then moved into the robe, and he wrapped it around her.
He went to the back of the cave, grabbed another buffalo skin and spread it out next to the fire. They knelt down and he gently held her away. “Your hair needs to dry,” he said as he unbraided her strands and draped each damp mass over the robe.
Perched between him and the fire, she shivered as he wrapped part of the buffalo skin around his shoulders and then around her, enclosing her in his warmth.
Despite the buffalo skin covering her, she’d never felt so exposed. How dreadful. She shivered, partly from the cold but also from a spark of desire as heat radiated from them both. He was her husband after all, so she didn’t need to worry. Yet he planned on letting her go. She imagined what it’d be like if he kept her as his wife. She’d be his. And they would have children. He would have a family again, and so would she. But all of that was a dream. None of it was real.
The crackle and warmth of the fire filled the small cave. She watched as tiny sparks soared up and fell back down, their small glow dying next to the fire. White Eagle rested his chin on her head as they both stared into the dancing flames.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” White Eagle whispered.
“Tell you what?”
“About Beaver Claws.”
“I—I don’t know.”
“Don’t ever keep anything like that from me again,” he said, his voice rough.
Anna wondered if there ever would be an “again.”
For a long time, neither spoke. All was silent except for the storm thundering just outside. His wa
rmth consumed her. Would they ever share such a moment again? The thought of losing him, the thought of never having him in her life was like watching those tiny sparks die, slowly losing their light. How could she say goodbye to her husband? Nobody had showed her affection the way he had, other than her father. The way he cared for her after the arrow, the way he pointed out how God had indeed answered her prayer.
Her gaze dropped down to his fist as it clasped the buffalo skin together. She always liked looking at his hands. Cautiously, she slid her fingers over his knuckles. She took one of his hands in hers and turned it over in her palm, admiring its strength. How could one hand be so powerful, and yet so gentle? She pressed each of her fingers against his, finger to finger, palm to palm. Her fingers, long and white—his, large and rough.
Their fingers intertwined and their wrists came together. Easing away, she peered up into his serious face. The light of the fire danced against the contours of his rugged jaw, reflecting in his eyes as he stared at the flames. He looked down at her with a dark want of desire.
“I can’t fight it,” he said, his voice ragged. “No matter where I go, you are there. You’re all around me, Anna.” He hissed as he leaned in closer. “The wind whispers your name. In the forests your voice rustles in the leaves; your image beats in my blood.” His breath brushed against her cheek, and he kissed her. “And then your scent carries over to me at night and haunts my dreams.” He dragged in a breath. “I want you so much it hurts.” His throaty voice confirmed his pain. “I can’t stop needing you, Anna. I am your husband, and I want you. Please. Don’t deny me.” He tightened his grip on her hand, his heat melting away her doubts.
Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I thought you didn’t want me,” she said, her voice choking.
He lifted her chin, searching her face and forcing her to meet his gaze. “Why would you think that?”
“You said our marriage wasn’t real.”
A light came to his eyes. “I only said what I thought you wanted to hear.”