Whispering Sun

by Rita Karnopp

  Fear, stark and vivid, gripped Sarah's senses. If screaming had confused the warrior before, could it work again? Sarah asked herself.

  She looked at the Sioux, and then screamed…loud and soft, high and low. She screamed like she'd never screamed before. Pulling Melody against her, Sarah twirled them around in circles. Sarah realized her hair flew around them like a golden waterfall.

  She came to an abrupt stop. Her heart jumped wild within her chest. Melody clung to her like a thorny burr.

  The warrior pointed to a white horse behind him, then pointed at Melody and Sarah.

  She understood what he wanted, but her feet refused to move. With slow and even steps, the warrior walked up to them, not taking his watchful gaze from Sarah. He motioned for her to let go of Melody.

  Sarah sensed the warriors had changed their minds about killing them. Even if they hadn't, there certainly wasn't much she or Melody could do about it. They were helpless. Where are you, Trail Walker? Sarah cried out to her internal self.

  Not wanting to anger the warrior, or give him time to change his mind, Sarah gripped a whimpering Melody by the shoulder, putting some distance between them.

  The Sioux made no sudden moves. He leaned back and brought the white pony closer. He grasped Sarah firmly by the waist and lifted her onto the horse's back. The blanket smelled of campfire smoke.

  He swung a milky-faced Melody up behind Sarah, and then effortlessly mounted his own horse. He reached over and secured the reins of their pony, then rode to his awaiting brothers.

  Melody pulled on Sarah's sleeve. She looked back at the trembling girl.

  "They killed them all," Melody said, shaking her head. "They even scalped them. Why? Sarah? Why would they kill all these women? Oh, my God! I see Judie."

  Melody slumped against Sarah. She couldn't hear the retching in Melody's throat, but could feel the involuntary spasms against her shoulder.

  "Melody, close your eyes. Don't look around at the others. There's nothing we can do for them now. You must stop crying. Indians look at it as a sign of weakness. Do you hear me?"

  Sarah felt Melody's head moved in acknowledgement. Averting her gaze, Sarah raised her chin with pride. She guessed there to be at least twenty warriors in the group. She boldly returned their stares as the wind whipped her long hair about her face. She hated the thought of having to comb the snarls out.

  How, in all this turmoil could she be worrying about combing her hair? Sarah laughed at the situation. Once the laughter started…she found it difficult to stop. She noticed the warriors stared back at her with a hint of uncertainty.

  She fought for control, not wanting hysteria to break down her defenses. Tears surfaced and pooled in the corners of her eyes. She quickly wiped them away with the palms of her hands, and then stared back at the Indian in front of her.

  He appeared to be the leader. His split-horn buffalo bonnet with full tail caught her attention. He carried a coup stick with two bloody women's scalp locks attached to it. She recognized Delia's curly, red hair, her stomach turned sour, bile rose in her throat. Sarah fought to keep it down.

  René deserved to die rotting in the sun, vultures picking his bones clean, but all those innocent women didn't. Sarah clutched the horse's mane between her fingers. With no saddle, she feared they'd fall off at any moment.

  The Sioux looked away, leading them along the line of deserted wagons and stopped. Several Indians dismounted their ponies, ran from wagon to wagon, setting them aflame. In an hour's time they'd be nothing but smoldering ashes and charred wood. The forceful wind blew smoke into Sarah's face, scorching her throat with the powerful odor of death.

  She noticed a woman's body draped over the wooden seat of a wagon. Her dress caught on fire, spreading the length of her. Hot flames melted her flesh away like candle wax. The horror of it made Sarah ill. She'd give anything not to have seen those poor slaughtered women. Sarah averted her gaze to the ground, her stomach muscles tightened. She covered her mouth to stifle a scream.

  René…what remained of him…lay on the ground near her horse's feet. His legs had been cut from his body. His wavy, black hair had been stripped from his head, leaving a bloody mass in its place. His nose had been burned into his face. Several arrows protruded from his chest. Trail Walker had told her many times that Indians hated a coward. By the looks of his distance from the train, René must have tried to run and hide. He hadn't even been man enough to fight. Sarah had to admit, it sounded like René…thinking of himself first.

  She allowed her gaze to travel down his extended arm, and then froze on his hand. His fingers still clutched several grayish eagle feathers. René's hand had suddenly become the small hand of her brother, clutching the feathers he'd so proudly captured for her. She pulled Henry Junior against her, telling him not to die. He didn't move. He wouldn't open his eyes.

  No! It'd been an accident. It wasn't her fault. She'd told him not to climb that cliff. She tried her best to get to him in time. She'd done everything possible to help him. Why hadn't she realized this before? She should have remembered how hard she'd tried to save him.

  Sarah shrunk under her father's unforgiving stare, his accusing expression. She recalled his angry words…that she'd killed Junior! Oh, God, no! Her father had been wrong. "It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault," Sarah repeated, suddenly aware she'd spoken the words out loud. She stared at the feathers clenched in her brother's hand. "You should have listened to me, Junior." Then came darkness…like so many years ago, blessed darkness.

  Chapter Six

  Sarah nestled against the large hand that wrapped around her ribs, firm but gentle. She welcomed the body-warmth of her protector.

  Consciousness ebbed its way into her thoughts. A merciless pounding filled her skull. Holding her head completely still, she cautiously peeked through partially opened slits. When had day turned into night? Sarah searched for the answer. She found herself astride her captor's horse, held firmly in place by a Sioux warrior. As her vision cleared, Sarah studied the outline of several Indians riding ahead of them. The longer she stared at those frightening shadows, the more her memory returned.

  "Melody? Where's Melody?" Sarah asked. Her throat felt dry, it hurt to speak.

  She felt the hand tighten around her waist, another clamped firm across her mouth, pulling the back of her head into his chest. The riders stopped. Her captor's arm muscles tightened, then relaxed. They held that silent position for what seemed an eternity, to Sarah. Her back ached from fearful anticipation.

  He eased his hand from her mouth, and then encouraged his mount to move on. Nausea set in from the constant motion of the beast. Would they ever stop? Sarah asked herself. She wanted to look around in search of Melody, but refrained from moving in the Sioux's arms.

  Events of the day filtered into her thoughts. The last thing she remembered was René. Sarah blinked several times to rid herself of the vivid images that returned. A sour bile rose in her throat, she struggled to swallow it back down. She sensed a growing uneasiness in herself as they continued on their journey. She wanted to pull from the savage's hold, to ride a horse independent of him. Exhaustion consumed her energy and she allowed her head to rest against his chest. Her lids slipped down over her eyes.

  Every bone in her body ached. Her inner thighs were bruised and rubbed raw. She groggily opened her eyes, surprised to find the riders ahead had stopped. Finally, they, too, stopped. Her body continued the sensation of motion.

  The Sioux slid from his horse and pulled her down into his arms like a child. He carried her for a short distance, and then lowered her to a sleeping blanket. In her sleep-drugged state, she clung to his arm.

  The starless night didn't allow her to see the warrior too clearly, but she didn't doubt he'd been the man who had confronted, then spared her and Melody at René's wagons.

  Melody! Fire rushed into her veins. Rising on a shaky elbow, Sarah looked around the camp. Across the fire, upon a blanket, she glimpsed the unharmed, sleeping form of M
elody. A sense of relief filled Sarah.

  Sliding back down to the blanket, she shivered in the cold night air. Tired and hungry, she drifted into a troubled sleep.

  She felt a gentle nudging on her shoulder. Tired, Sarah pushed the hand aside. The effort brought pain to her stiff, sore muscles. The gentle shaking continued. Sarah struggled against the heaviness of exhausted sleep. She opened her lids to find herself staring into the ebony eyes of the warrior. They were as dark and powerful as the man.

  She stared into his eyes for a few seconds, and then watched him lean back and motioned for her to rise.

  Sarah sat, every movement proved costly. He helped her to her feet, and although she felt grateful, she didn't want to appear weak. Breaking free, she straightened her back and stared at him with an air of defiance.

  Sharp pain shot through Sarah's ears, causing her to grab them and cry out. The piercing pain lasted mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity to her. The warrior dropped his hand from her shoulder, his jaw tightened. He motioned across the now cold fire, toward Melody, who sat on a blanket, staring back at them with her eyes wide with fright.

  The warrior grasped Sarah's arm, guided her over to Melody, and then hurried away, leaving them together.

  Sarah pushed her fears aside. She took a deep breath, then found the resemblance of a smile and offered it to Melody. Eyes filled with fear stared back at Sarah.

  Moving slow and deliberate, she lowered herself until she sat across from Melody. Sarah observed the Indians surrounding them. Several warriors worked with the horses while others sharpened arrows or looked over their bows. Sarah realized no one in particular watched them, yet, it seemed they all did.

  "I thought you were going to die. You didn't wake up all day. I think they'd kill me if you died, Sarah."

  Sarah struggled to remember, but couldn't. "What happened to me? Did someone hit me?"

  "No. You were looking at René. You started screaming it wasn't your fault, and then you fainted. I tried to hold you up, but I couldn't and you dropped right off the horse. That warrior, who helped bring you over here, took care of you. He pointed at himself and said, 'Eagle Shield.' I think that's his name. The Indians seemed upset to think you might die."

  "Are you sure? Did they say why?" Sarah watched Melody shake her head.

  "No. They talk Indian. I don't understand a thing they say. They've been good to me though. They seem to think you're something special. Couldn't you ask them to let us go home?"

  Sarah's heart contracted in anguish. How could she tell Melody the Indians would either take them to their village, most likely as slaves, or kill them? They'd never be set free.

  "We'll just have to see what happens. At least we still have each other. I think we're going to be just fine. You wait and see." Sarah hoped she sounded more convincing than she felt.

  Melody inched closer and Sarah wrapped a comforting arm around the girl's shoulders. They sat, comforting each other with their presence.

  Sarah watched Eagle Shield walk toward them. He handed down a water bag and jerky. With his right hand nearly compressed, he passed the tips of his fingers in a curved downward motion past his mouth.

  "He wants us to eat," Sarah told Melody. Looking up at the warrior, Sarah extended both of her hands flat, and then pulled them up to her chest, then back down toward him. He nodded, straightened his shoulders and walked away.

  "What did you say to him?"

  Handing several jerky strips to Melody, Sarah answered, "Thank you."

  "Can you understand what he says with his hands?"

  "Yes. Trail Walker taught me to talk with my hands when I first became deaf." Sarah never dreamed she'd need it to speak with Sioux warriors.

  "It's remarkable how you can read lips and talk." Melody drank from the leather pouch, and then spit the water to the ground.

  "Why on earth did you do that?"

  "It's awful. It's warm and tastes disgusting."

  "You'd better get used to it. You'd better not spit it out again, either. It might be the last water they give you. You're spitting it out is an insult and disrespectful. They may not have much water. Others might have to go without, so we can have some. We have to be careful of everything we do, or they might kill us."

  "I'm sorry, Sarah. I didn't know."

  Sarah glanced around at the busy warriors. "I don't think anyone saw you. I'm pretty sure this is a Sioux war party. I'd guess some whites must have killed some of their people and they were out on a revenge raid." Sarah watched Melody's face blanch even whiter.

  "How do you know they're Sioux? Did Trail Walker teach you that, too?"

  Sarah nodded, her heart longing to see the weathered face of her beloved friend. "Yes. He taught me a lot. This spring we were going to go out on the trail together. He had much he wanted to show and tell me." Sadness filled her. "I was looking forward to it. I miss him."

  "Trail Walker never talked to me. Of course Mama said I wasn't supposed to talk to any Indians. I wanted him to work with me, to teach me, like he did you. I once told Mama I wanted to wear riding trousers like you and learn to ride a horse. My parents were so angry they sent me to my room for the rest of the day. You got to do all that fun stuff, like the men. I had to stay in the store, day after day. You can't imagine how boring it can get. I found myself imagining I was you."

  Sarah stared at Melody in astonishment. "You have parents who love you. You have all those friends. Why would you want to be like me?"

  "You had all those beautiful dolls and toys. I would see them when the orders came into the store. I begged and begged for just one doll, but they didn't want to spend the money. Then you had all those gorgeous dresses. I had to wear dresses that were taken in trade for goods."

  "I never played with one of those dolls or with any of the toys. I put them on a shelf, and left them there. I never wanted all those fancy dresses either. They made me feel different. All I wanted was parents to love me and friends," Sarah said, swallowing hard.

  "You don't know what it's like to have someone watch everything you do," Melody remarked dryly, looking beyond Sarah's shoulder. "I felt more dead than alive."

  "Tell me something, Melody. Why didn't you ever talk to me while we were at the fort?" Sarah watched Melody stare at her hands, then look up.

  "My mother said you were the General's daughter and that I wasn't supposed to speak to you unless you spoke to me. She said your station was higher than mine and if you wanted to be friends you would come to me."

  "That's ridiculous. How was I supposed to know that? I thought you didn't like me. I thought everyone hated me. I wanted to be friends. I've needed a girl friend all my life."

  "I'm sorry, Sarah. I would have been your friend. I imagined what fun it would be to come over to your house and play dolls with you. I dreamed about it."

  "I didn't want them. I wanted someone to play with, not something." Sarah fought to hide the swelling emotions.

  "I've been jealous of you all those years, wondering how it would feel to be so rich. I thought you were the luckiest girl I'd ever met."

  Sarah reached over and squeezed Melody's hand. "You want to hear something funny? I thought you were the luckiest girl I'd ever met. I'd watch your mother hug and kiss you. Your father always seemed to tease and joke with you. You seemed their one joy."

  Melody stopped eating and stared at Sarah. "I never thought about it that way. I wanted to get away because they were smothering me. I never had any freedom. Now I see why they kept me so close. They were afraid something like this might happen to me. They really do love me, don't they?"

  "Yes, Melody. I'm sure of it."

  Tears rolled freely down her cheeks. "I miss them so much. I never thought I'd feel this way. All I can think about is how good it would feel to be in Mama's arms, warm and safe. Now I've probably broken their hearts."

  Sarah watched Melody struggle with her feelings. "I'm sure they're very worried about you." Mine are probably rejoicing, Sarah thought to herse
lf.

  "They must be worried sick. They've been so good to me. I repaid them by running away. I even let René steal from them. How could I have been so selfish?"

  "You didn't leave with René to hurt them. I'm sure they know that. You can tell them how much you love them when we get back."

  "I'll never see them again!" Melody declared. "These savages are going to kill us. I'll never see them again!" Melody said, between sobs.

  "Stop that, Melody Briar. Do you hear me?" Sarah felt drained by the girl's constant need for reassurance. Exhausted, Sarah dropped to her back, allowing the early morning sun to warm her face. Coolness swept across her face and she knew someone had blocked the rays. She opened her eyes and stared into the dark gaze of Eagle Shield.

  He pointed up with his right index finger. He reached down and helped Sarah to her feet in one quick motion. After several hand movements, he turned and walked away.

  "Was he mad? What did he tell you?" Melody asked.

  Sarah read the uneasiness in her posture. "No, he wasn't angry. He said we should hurry behind the bushes and take care of our woman duties. Soon we'll be traveling and we must be ready to ride. Come, we'd better do as he says."

  Sarah wanted to throw herself on the ground and cry. Every bone ached and tiredness waved over her like a breeze. She wouldn't give in. Trail Walker had taught her to be strong and proud. She wouldn't let him down. She'd survive and soon Trail Walker would come and get her. The constant tugging on her sleeve interrupted Sarah's thoughts.

  The lack of privacy caused them to stand guard for each other. Something Sarah had learned on the wagon train.

  They walked back into camp. All the warriors were mounted, ready to ride. Eagle Shield led the white pony toward them. He lifted Melody toward the animal's back. The horse snorted and backed up in short, jumpy steps. Several times Eagle Shield struggled to place Melody on the pony, only to have it prance and snort with conviction. The warrior acted as nervous as the animal.