High Plains Bride

by Jenna Kernan

  At last, two of the Indians approached. Water Blossom called out to them as they grew near and her hail was answered in kind.

  Sarah strained to hear the words exchanged, even knowing she could not understand them. The tone seemed civilized, if not the language.

  The warriors turned their horses and moved to the head of their group, escorting them to the others.

  Sarah tried to reassure herself that these Indians would help them, but she could not keep her anxiety from making her breathing erratic. She recalled the last time a group this large had surrounded her party, offering friendship and then demanding bribes before butchering the men and stealing her child.

  The cold metallic taste of fear filled her mouth. She was dizzy with it as her horse followed along at the back of the group.

  At midday, they crossed a river and then followed its meandering course. Sarah noted the frost gathering on the reeds and the fragile layer of ice clinging to their stems in the quiet eddies where the shallow water touched the bank.

  She glanced ahead at Water Blossom, who rode without coat or cloak, and felt guilty for accepting her robe. She reached into her pack, nearly losing the heavy hide as she retrieved the coat Thomas had bought for his daughter. She handed it to Water Blossom, who accepted the offering, nodding her thanks.

  As they rode, Sarah tried to picture her reunion with Lucie. They would hug and cry and rock back and forth in each other’s arms. She could almost smell the fragrance of Lucie’s hair as she conjured her daughter in her mind. Had she grown? She was a beanstalk reaching for the sky when the Indians took her.

  Did she get enough to eat?

  The day grew colder as gray clouds swept in. Sarah stared at the sky, deciding it was too cold to rain. By midafternoon the first snowflakes arrived. These were not the gentle perfect cascade of her memories of snowfall in Illinois. These were ice crystals flung by a savage wind. Sarah pulled the robe close about her face and ducked her chin to her chest. A glance at her horse showed her mount’s freckled head also hanging as he blinked his long lashes against the assault of ice.

  Because of her posture, she did not see the village until they passed the first teepees. Shocked at her inattention, she straightened to see shadowy forms of Indians standing in the icy wind as their party passed. Sarah searched the draped Indians for her daughter but saw no sign of her.

  They were expected, it seemed, because no one made any move to hinder their progress toward the heart of the village.

  Roubideaux halted the riders and dismounted. From his pack mule he retrieved ten knife blades and presented them to the lead warrior of their escort.

  With a nod of acceptance, the man led the other warriors away. Sarah peeked out of the gap in her buffalo robe and saw Thomas standing beside Roubideaux. Water Blossom was speaking to two men.

  Thomas came to stand beside Sarah, his head reaching her thigh as she sat mounted above him. She dipped to hear him.

  “We’re going inside to speak with the chief.”

  Sarah made a move to dismount and Thomas held up a hand.

  “Roubideaux, Water Blossom and I are going. You are to stay here.”

  “Here on horseback?” she said, not quite believing she would be left sitting in the snow.

  “No, just outside that teepee.”

  Sarah gasped. “But why?”

  “This is a gathering of men. Water Blossom is our translator, so she is permitted.”

  Sarah did not argue. She only slipped stiffly from her horse and stood beside Thomas. She opened the hood enough to reveal her face to him and then she kissed him.

  “Be careful,” she said.

  He seemed speechless and only nodded. Was he shocked by the kiss or by her compliance?

  She did not know.

  Thomas followed Roubideaux, his boots crunching in the new layer of snow. He paused at a large teepee decorated with two green waving lines running around the base.

  This was the home of Two Rivers, chief of the Sweetwater tribe. Roubideaux stooped to enter and Thomas grasped his arm.

  “Is Sarah safe out there alone?”

  “She’s Two Rivers’s guest. Nothing will happen to her while she’s with us.”

  Thomas glanced back to see Sarah settle on the icy ground beside the teepee. He drew a deep breath and followed Roubideaux into the open gap. Air, warmed by the fire, carried the scent of wood smoke and tobacco to him as he entered the old warrior’s tent.

  Three men waited within. Thomas straightened and sat where Roubideaux indicated. Behind them, Water Blossom lowered the burden of trade goods she carried and closed the tent flap.

  Thomas sat stiffly on the ground as gifts were presented to Two Rivers. The chief accepted a red Hudson’s Bay blanket, casting it over his shoulders and nodding his approval. He passed an ivory pipe head to the man on his right and a two headed axe blade to the serious young warrior on his left.

  Roubideaux spoke in what Thomas thought was passable Sioux. Then he pointed at Thomas and spoke again. The chief nodded, but the young one’s eyes narrowed as he was introduced. Thomas held his gaze until the warrior looked away.

  Roubideaux turned to Thomas. “The one on the right is the chief’s son. Don’t know about the one on the left. He’s young to be on the chief’s war council, but he’s tied up in this somehow.”

  The scouts had given them no information on white captives and Thomas was anxious to hear what the trader had learned, but he waited in tense silence as Water Blossom took over, her light lilting voice carrying a respectful tone. Thomas listened to the exchange, wishing he had spent more time at the fort learning from the translator so he could understand the meaning of their words.

  Roubideaux spoke to him again. “Two Rivers wants to trade but says they have no white captives. He’s putting me in a spot. I’m not going to call him a liar, not and live to tell of it.”

  “But the boy said they have my daughter.”

  “They might have traded her off.”

  Thomas wondered what to do and his eyes settled on the young buck with the poker face. For the first time, he noted the eagle feathers tied in his hair and a thought struck him.

  “Water Blossom, what’s that fellow’s name?”

  She asked and then repeated his name. “Eagle Dancer.”

  Eagle Dancer—where had he heard that before? The boy! He’d said the warrior holding Lucie was called Eagle Dancer. The same man? Thomas fixed his stare upon the man. Yes. It explained his presence here and his sour expression.

  He turned to Roubideaux. “Tell them I’m the girl’s father, this girl.” He flipped open the photo for the warriors to see.

  The buck’s poker face slipped as his eyes rounded in recognition.

  “Tell Two Rivers that the boy called Sky Fox saw my girl with Eagle Dancer. They have my girl and I want her back.”

  Thomas pinned his glare on Eagle Dancer, who lifted his chin and said not one word. The chief was talking now. Roubideaux translated in a low whisper.

  “He says they got the girl, but she ain’t no captive on account of Eagle Dancer married her. He calls her part of his tribe.” Roubideaux put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  The rage swallowed Thomas whole. He sprang to his feet and lunged for the man who had defiled his daughter. Roubideaux was quicker and leapt to his feet and threw himself at Thomas. They landed against the tent poles with Thomas on his back.

  “You’ll get us killed,” said Roubideaux, gripping Thomas’s lapels. “Now sit down or, so help me, I’ll gaff you myself.”

  Thomas’s ears rang with his fury, but he sat.

  Roubideaux spoke in apologetic tones as he motioned to Thomas. Water Blossom cast Thomas a meaningful glance and pressed her palm toward the floor as if urging calm.

  Thomas breathed heavily through his nose, trying not to look at the man across the fire who had taken his little girl. The weight of the gun at his hip seemed heavier than usual, as if the cold steel called for justice.


  But if he acted, they would surely kill them and Lucie would remain a captive. Or worse. She might end up like Alice French.

  Water Blossom leaned close and held his hand.

  “Your daughter is alive. She is here. This is good.”

  Thomas nodded mechanically. Yes, she was alive. He tried to focus on that and not the fury that beat against his ribs like an eagle swooping to strike.

  Oh, dear God, what would Sarah say?

  The chief pointed at Thomas and spoke.

  “He wants to know if you will take a trade for the girl. It’s the custom for the groom to buy his bride from her family. Eagle Dancer offers ten buffalo hides and four horses for your daughter.”

  Thomas gritted his teeth. “Tell the son of a bitch that I’ll take his hide and my daughter.”

  Roubideaux rubbed his neck. “It’s a good offer.”

  Thomas stared incredulously at Roubideaux.

  “She’s not for sale.”

  “You sure? She has laid with this young buck. She might be carrying his child.”

  Thomas felt sick to his stomach.

  “White folks don’t take kindly to girls who been through what your gal has. Be lucky to find her a husband at all. Might be best to leave her here where she’s wanted.”

  “No.”

  “We could tell your gal she’s dead. She wouldn’t have to know.”

  Thomas considered the suggestion for the time it took to draw a breath.

  “I want her back.”

  Roubideaux shook his head in disgust, as if he was being unreasonable. Then he continued to speak to the chief for some time and did not translate. At last he rose.

  “We’re going.”

  “What happened?” asked Thomas as he stood.

  “Two Rivers won’t trade away a man’s wife. He says we can stay and trade, but not for Lucie. He offers one night’s hospitality and then we gotta go. Better than we deserve after you attacked them.”

  “What about Lucie?”

  “You best put that behind you, son. They ain’t giving her up. Far as they’re concerned, she’s part of the family.”

  Thomas stared at the stony faces of the three men across the fire. He’d never felt so impotent in his life. Without adequate manpower, he could not force them to give up Lucie and they would not accept a ransom.

  “Tell them that this girl does not belong to the Sioux. She belongs with her mother. What they have done is wrong.”

  “I ain’t saying that. We’re lucky to keep our scalps after your little stunt.”

  Thomas stood his ground.

  “They’re past listening—just like you.” Roubideaux grabbed Thomas’s arm and shoved him out of the tent.

  “Dear God, what will I tell Sarah?” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken aloud until Roubideaux answered his question.

  “If you’ve a brain in your head, you’ll tell her the girl died of fever.”

  Thomas straightened and glanced about. “Where is Sarah?”

  “She wait in a teepee for us,” said Water Blossom.

  “What about Lucie?” he asked.

  “They will keep her under guard until we leave. You will not see her.”

  The snow had stopped and the air now hung still and bitter cold. A boy waited to take them to a teepee.

  “Might better leave tonight.” Roubideaux tugged at his bushy beard. “I don’t fancy them changing their minds and stealing my horses.”

  Water Blossom scowled, her voice full of indignation. “You are a guest. They do not steal from you.”

  Thomas thought that they had already stolen a precious gift. Would he never see the face of his daughter? He ducked into the teepee the boy indicated. He thought he could not feel worse until he saw Sarah rising to her feet, a look of hope pinned on her worried face.

  Thomas bowed his head.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sarah could not contain her grief and sobbed in Thomas’s arms much of the night. To come so close to her daughter and not to see her. Her heart was breaking.

  Lucie lived, but as a captive bride to a savage. How could fate be so cruel?

  Roubideaux and Water Blossom sat silent across the fire as Sarah wailed. Finally, Water Blossom laid out their bedding, and she and her husband disappeared beneath a buffalo robe.

  Thomas stroked Sarah’s head as she wept softly.

  “I’m sorry, Sarah,” he whispered.

  The knife in her heart twisted. This man was sorry. After all she had done, he had regrets.

  “Oh, Thomas, are we to lose Lucie, too?”

  He sighed, his breath fanning her cheeks. “She’s alive. We might still be able to get to her. But tomorrow, you’re going to have to leave her behind.”

  Sarah clung to him and pinched her eyes shut. “I’d give anything to bring her home.”

  “We’ll bring her home. Just give it a little more time.”

  “She doesn’t have any boots.”

  Thomas’s strong arms held her. “The young buck will provide those things, until we have her back.”

  “Do they know about the army? Did you tell them they have orders to kill all hostiles harboring captives?”

  “No. I didn’t. He might decide killing us is a good way to be sure the army doesn’t know about Lucie.”

  There was wisdom in this. How she envied his cool calculation.

  “I can’t think like that. Even now you don’t lose your head.”

  He smiled. “Back in the tent, with the chief, I nearly killed that young buck that took Lucie.”

  “What?”

  “Roubideaux stopped me. Just so you know, I don’t always use my head.”

  “You’re lucky they didn’t kill you.”

  “Roubideaux said the same.”

  The teepee grew silent again. Thomas poked at the red coals with a stick.

  She had waited several days for the right time or a moment’s privacy to speak to him and had found neither. She was through waiting for the perfect opportunity. For all she knew, Two Rivers would murder them all in their beds. Water Blossom had assured them they were protected as guests, but Sarah had no confidence in these people’s honor.

  “I’ve been doing a great deal of thinking and I want to apologize to you, Thomas, for all the pain I’ve caused.”

  He could not have looked more stunned if she had lifted a burning log and struck him in the forehead.

  “Sarah?”

  “I shouldn’t have married him. I’m so sorry, Thomas.”

  “You thought I was dead.” He used reason again.

  “But it didn’t stop me from loving you. Can you forgive me?”

  “I forgive you, Sarah.” His hand reached out, bridging the gap between them. Fingers entwined. “I just can’t forgive myself.”

  She inched closer, nearly holding her breath. “For what?”

  “Leaving you, taking Hyatt.” His gaze became unfocused.

  “What happened?”

  He nodded, as if expecting that it was past time to tell her.

  “He wanted to tag along. Always tagged along. Back when we were kids, I’d throw rocks at him so he’d go home. But he had his teeth around the bit this time. He wouldn’t turn back. Pa was against him going and Ma, well, she couldn’t see giving up her baby. They tried, too, but nothing they said dissuaded him.”

  She stroked his shoulders, feeling the tension there, building with each breath.

  “We were crossing the desert when the Navajo attacked.” He looked in her eyes. “You’ve seen enough dying, Sarah. I don’t want to burden you.”

  “You will tell me this time, Thomas. Tell me all of it.”

  Words poured out of him like seawater from a drowning man.

  “I hid him in the wagon as we faced them. But there were too many. I killed one and two more came at me. I couldn’t fire fast enough. They dragged me from the wagon and hit me with one of their clubs. I couldn’t see past the blood. I heard Hyatt screaming and smelled the smoke.” He grasped
Sarah’s hand. “They burned the wagon, Sarah. They burned it with Hyatt still inside.”

  He saw the horror of that day reflected in Sarah’s face.

  “I couldn’t see, but I heard him calling. ‘Thomas, help me. Help me.’” His shoulders sagged as Hyatt’s long ago screams still rang in his ears.

  “I blacked out.”

  He glanced to Sarah to see her taking it in, the horror, the guilt and finally the twisting remorse that held him to this day. He didn’t see the cruelty of fate, only his own mistakes and all the things he might have done to avert this tragedy.

  His voice cracked as he spoke. “Ma made me promise to look after him.”

  “Thomas, you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t save him.”

  “I wish it had been me.”

  “Then no one could help me save our daughter.”

  That brought him back to her again.

  “But we haven’t saved her.”

  “We will.”

  He looked at her, perhaps rattled by the confidence in her tone. She wondered how he had survived what had killed so many.

  “How did you escape?”

  “I didn’t, just blacked out. Next I knew I was lying on a U.S. Army cot, burned and blind.”

  “Blind!” Sarah gripped his arm.

  He pushed back the hair from his forehead, showing the thin white scar that snaked across his temple. She had not seen it against the graying hair.

  “After a month, Doc said I’d likely be blind my whole miserable life.”

  She gasped. “Oh, Thomas.” How horrible for him. Alone and without his sight. Why hadn’t he written? This thought germinated another that rooted. The idea grew into a mighty oak of certainty.

  “That’s when you wrote Samuel.”

  He nodded and then reached for her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She thought she heard a ragged cry. She stroked his head and cooed. At last his breathing returned to normal.

  His face shone wet with tears.

  She held her breath a moment, gathering strength for what she had to say.

  “Thomas, this wasn’t your fault. None of it, not Hyatt following or me following. Hyatt would forgive you. And as for what Samuel did, it was wrong—so wrong.”