Before Two Arrows was aware of what she was doing, Glory slid from the horse and went to the girl’s side.
“What are you doing, Proud One? The column’s already starting to ride out.”
“I’m going to try to help her; tell her that,” Glory said, and her chin came up stubbornly.
Two Arrows looked around. “Here comes Moccasin Woman; she’ll help her.”
Glory stared up at him in disbelief. “You’re just going to leave them here with no men to look after them?”
“Glory, we don’t have men to spare,” the scout said patiently. “We’ve got to put distance between us and the soldiers. You saw yesterday they’d just as soon shoot at women and children as not.”
“I’m staying to help; tell her that.”
He paused, reining in his pinto, and she thought she saw a trace of admiration in his dark eyes. “You don’t know what you’re saying; there will be hungry coyotes after dark, and if the soldiers come in the night, they might mistake you for an Indian and kill you before you can tell them.”
She ignored him, nodding toward Moccasin Woman, who was already kneeling next to the suffering girl. “You will help?”
Glory nodded, and Moccasin Woman yelled something to the other women. They seemed to look at Glory with new respect. The others were looking at Redbird with sympathy, but then they looked north with longing. To linger behind was to face death or capture, with the army only hours behind them.
Glory looked from Moccasin Woman to the silently suffering girl, then to Two Arrows. “I’m going to try to help. If you say no, you’ll have to tie me up and drag me out of here.”
He stared at her a long moment. “I know we seem hardhearted to you, Glory, but the welfare of the whole group has to be placed above one girl in labor.”
“Where’s her husband?” Glory demanded. “He could stay and guard—”
“He was killed by soldiers a few weeks ago for stealing a beef to feed the starving people,” the scout said.
Glory felt her mood plummet. She looked from the suffering girl back to Two Arrows. “Go on; we’ll manage.”
Two Arrows leaned on his saddle horn, looked down at her a long moment. “I’ll stay,” he said finally.
“You!” she said, surprised. “If the army gets here before Redbird gives birth, they might show mercy to one of the other men, but not to you.”
His dark face was stoic and expressionless. “I know much better than you, Proud One, what the lieutenant and his soldiers will do if they catch me.”
She felt a sudden surge of admiration for him as he dismounted and tied his paint to a nearby tree. Of all the men, she wouldn’t have thought he would volunteer. The column was already moving away from the resting place, heading north again.
Moccasin Woman helped Redbird to a blanket under a bush and built a small fire. “There not time to do proper ceremonies,” she muttered.
Glory knelt by the girl’s side and took her hand. “How can I help?”
The old woman looked at Glory with respect. “Redbird is nothing to you; why do you care?”
“She’s a woman and she’s in pain,” Glory said softly. “What did you do with little Grasshopper?”
“Gave her over to care of another friend,” Moccasin Woman said. “If we run into trouble or soldiers catch us, I want child to have chance.”
Tears came to Glory’s eyes, and she looked at Two Arrows standing there. “I hadn’t realized how desperate these people were.”
Two Arrows said, “All they want is freedom; is that too much to ask?”
She was abruptly ashamed of her own people for what they had done to the Cheyenne. Mercy! Are you crazy, Glory? she scolded herself. These Indians have kidnapped you to use as a hostage, and you’re feeling sorry for them?
Redbird moaned very softly, and Glory reached to wipe the sweat from her brown face. Women felt a kinship with each other at times like this, and nothing else mattered.
“This going to take a while,” Moccasin Woman said to Glory. “See if you can find water.”
Two Arrows said, “There’s a spring in those trees.”
Glory nodded. She gathered up canteens and started toward the spring, Two Arrows following her. Surely he didn’t think she was going to try to escape right now.
She filled the four canteens, struggled to get the straps over her shoulder.
“Here, let me carry those,” he said gently.
She handed them over, feeling a sudden spark when their fingers brushed. “You are courageous to stay, knowing what the soldiers will do to you if they catch you.”
He shrugged. “I was once an honored dog soldier, bravest of the brave,” he said. “I had lost that pride for a long time, drowned in a bottle of whiskey.”
She thought about what she had heard around the fort about his past. “I am sorry about your family.”
For a moment, his strong jaw worked, and he swallowed hard. “I should not have kidnapped you,” he said finally. “I was angry; thought you had told the lieutenant about me grabbing your horse that night.”
She paused and looked at him. “I would not have begged a man for help.”
“I know that now, Proud One.” He glanced down at his bandaged arm where she had stabbed him. “How well I know!”
She remembered then the way he had pulled her into his embrace, the passion of his kiss. She was almost ashamed that she had tried to kill him. “I was desperate to escape, and then you were ripping my dress, trying to—”
“I know. I forgot everything but that you were a woman I had desired since the first time I saw you galloping near the fort with your hair streaming out like a wild mustang’s mane, your chin so high and proud.”
She paused and looked up at him, seeing him as a man, not a savage, remembering the warmth of his arms, the taste of his mouth.
One of his big hands reached out slowly and cupped her chin. “I would never hurt you, Glory.”
His gentle fingers felt warm on her skin as he looked down into her eyes. Her emotions were in turmoil, remembering yesterday and the way he had taken her in his arms, the way his mouth had dominated hers and the hot feel of his lips on her breasts as they meshed and struggled, both smeared with his blood.
Moccasin Woman yelled for the water, breaking the spell. Glory and Two Arrows turned and hurried back to where Redbird labored, great beads of sweat on her pretty face.
“She isn’t crying out like white women do,” Glory marveled.
Moccasin Woman shook her head. “Even our children know they must be silent as deer so as not to endanger us all.”
“This is not a place for a man,” Two Arrows said. “I will go up on that little rise and stand guard. As soon as she gives birth, we must move on; try to catch up to the others. I’ll rig a travois behind her horse.”
Glory watched him walk away, trying to sort out her feelings. He had kidnapped her, handled her, and kissed her like no other man had ever kissed her, making her blood pound in a way she had not thought possible. Yet he had such a gentle side she had never expected in such a virile warrior.
Redbird made a soft noise, and Glory took her hand, patted it. “It will be all right,” she whispered.
Moccasin Woman shook her head. “There are ceremonies for a birthing, but here, we cannot do them.” She looked at Glory. “You have little ones?”
Glory shook her head. How she had wanted children, even if they were to be sired by Howard Halstead, but in those five years of marriage, there were none. She had gone to see a doctor secretly. The doctor found nothing wrong with her. When she told Howard, he had beaten her, screaming that it could not be his fault; she must be barren. Then there had been that terrible scene involving his brother, Nat, who was visiting from his ranch in Kansas.
She didn’t want to think about that now; there was too much to do here.
Dusk fell while valiant Redbird labored to give birth. Somewhere in the distance, a pack of coyotes yapped. The sound unnerved Glory. She looked t
oward Two Arrows silhouetted up on the little rise. He nodded reassuringly and patted the rifle in the crook of his arm. She was surprised at how secure she felt, knowing he was on guard.
Glory held Redbird’s hand, wiped the sweat from her pretty face as she labored, watched with admiration as Moccasin Woman assisted. What brave women, these two are, fighting bravely to bring forth a new life under such terrible circus-stances and with none of the medicines and amenities white women had.
Finally, after dark, Redbird gave birth to a fine, squalling daughter. Moccasin Woman wiped her off with dry grass, wrapped her in a scrap of blanket, and handed her to Glory.
“Oh, she’s beautiful!” She held the baby close, crooning to her a long moment before she laid her in the crook of the mother’s arm.
“Hahoo,” the girl whispered to Glory, and smiled as she spoke her own language to Moccasin Woman.
“Redbird says ‘thank you,’ ” the older woman translated. “She did not expect help from a white woman. She say you must be Indian in heart.”
Glory smiled. “Tell Redbird all women are the same, and I was happy to do what little I could to help.”
Moccasin Woman translated, then said to Glory, “We go soon.” She turned and looked toward Two Arrows. “He is brave man, even if he scouted for bluecoats; I used to think him nothing but a drunken white man’s Injun.”
“Yes, it was brave,” Glory agreed in spite of herself. “He knows what would happen if the lieutenant caught him.”
“We must eat,” Moccasin Woman said. “See if you can find something to make some broth.”
Glory dug in a knapsack as the woman directed, soon had a rich broth bubbling from dried meat.
In the meantime, Moccasin Woman was busy with her patient. “Redbird, there is no male relative here to name this child.”
Tears came to the girl’s eyes and she shook her head and motioned toward Two Arrows, said something in her language to the old woman.
Moccasin Woman nodded, evidently, greatly moved. To Glory, she said, “She asks if he will do the naming? Would you ask him?”
Glory swallowed hard. Somehow, she knew this was a great honor. She walked out to where the scout sat on guard. “It is a fine, fat girl.”
“Good.” He smiled.
He was handsome when he smiled, Glory thought. “Redbird asks if you will choose a name?”
“Me?” He touched his chest in surprise.
“Why not? You have done something brave to stay behind and risk soldiers catching you.”
His shoulders squared as he stood up. “I will be pleased. It is too bad we cannot do it the old way, with all the ceremony, but nothing is the way it used to be when the Cheyenne ruled the prairie and the buffalo ran.”
Together, they walked back, Two Arrows evidently deep in thought. As they reached the tree, behind them they heard a faraway sound echoing through the prairie night. They both turned to look. Far to the north, the big lobo was silhouetted against the moon on a hill, singing to the sky.
“It is a good sign?” Redbird held her baby and looked up at them hopefully.
Two Arrows squatted to look down at her and her baby. “It is a very good sign,” he answered. “Our untamed brother sings to the new child the song of our people.”
He reached out and took the baby, held her a long moment, looking down into the small brown face. Something in the man’s expression pulled at Glory’s soul, and she wondered if he were remembering his own dead children? Two Arrows placed the tips of his big fingers ever so gently on the baby’s forehead. “You’re destined for great things,” he whispered, “because your mother dared to dream of freedom. Little woman of the Cheyenne, I name you Brave Dream.”
Moccasin Woman nodded her approval. “It is good name.”
Redbird smiled and held out her arms for her daughter. “Her father would have been pleased.”
Glory found herself blinking back a sudden mist.
“Now,” the older woman took charge briskly, “this broth Two Arrows’s woman has prepared, let us eat of it and be on our way.”
“I am not his woman, I am his captive,” Glory corrected.
Two Arrows frowned and the good feelings of the baby naming were broken. “I will go saddle my horse.”
The women stared after him, a tall, muscular figure in bunk skin striding through the moonlit night.
“Take him some broth,” Moccasin Woman ordered.
Glory filled two gourds and walked over to where he checked the girth of his saddle. “Brave Dream is a fine name. It is a good thing to have children.”
He didn’t say anything, only cleared his throat and looked away.
“Tell me about your children,” she said.
He shrugged. “Dead at the Washita along with my woman. Yellow Hair’s soldiers hit the sleeping camp in the early dawn. I was away hunting when I heard the distant gunfire and saw the smoke rising on the horizon as the camp burned. Pretty Flower died in my arms in the snow.”
“I—I’m sorry.” She felt awkward about the personal things her captor was telling her.
He swallowed hard and did not speak for a long moment. “It has been a long time; ten years the way whites count time. All my family is dead or scattered; some I know not where. I know only that my nephew, Storm Gathering, rides with the Lakota.” He took the steaming gourd from her, began to eat.
She ate her broth in silence, imagining the bloody scene that haunted him. No wonder he drank. The night had turned chill, and she shivered.
“We must find you something to wear tomorrow; your dress is torn and bloody.” He took off the buckskin shirt he wore, put it around her, his hands lingering on her shoulders. It was a strange thing to do for a prisoner, Glory thought. Despite herself, she was moved by the gesture.
Moccasin Woman called out to them. “Help with travois. We go now.”
Glory looked at Two Arrows. “It’s a shame to move that girl.”
“There’s no help for it,” the scout said. “We must catch up with the column. They’ll probably be camping next up on the Arkansas River.”
We’re almost into Kansas, she thought. It was amazing all those well-equipped soldiers hadn’t managed to catch this ragtag, hungry little group of Indians. “That’s near Dodge City, isn’t it?”
“Yes. If we don’t change course, the trail will take us out of Indian Territory and west of that town.”
If she got close to Dodge City, the possibilities for escape would increase, Glory thought. Perhaps if she planned carefully, she could yet escape. First, she would have to win his complete trust—or do something even more extreme. She would not consider that possibility right now. One thing was certain; things between them had changed. She was no longer seeing him just as a drunken Indian and dangerous kidnapper. Despite herself, because of everything that had happened over the last several days, she was beginning to respect and admire him and this valiant little band of Cheyenne.
“I hope your people make it,” she blurted, and was surprised to find that she meant it.
“I could almost believe you’re sincere.” He reached out and caught her hand, pulled her to her feet. He didn’t let go, and it was a long moment before she pulled her fingers from his grasp and hurried away.
She reminded herself that he was her kidnapper, and she should hate and fear him. Frankly, she wasn’t sure how she felt anymore. She didn’t look back at Two Arrows, but she knew he walked behind her, leading his horse.
Between them all, they got Moccasin Woman’s bay gelding hitched to the travois and helped Redbird and her nursing baby into it. The old woman mounted then.
Two Arrows sat his paint looking down at Glory. “Will you ride behind Moccasin Woman?”
“Her horse is already overloaded with the travois and all,” Glory said.
Wordlessly, he held out his hand and she let him lift her up before him on the paint stallion. Somewhere on the prairie behind them, the man she planned to marry was coming hard with a troop of soldiers, d
etermined to rescue her and kill her abductor. She would not think about that right now, or what might happen tomorrow.
Glory reminded herself that she must win Two Arrows’s trust if she was going to escape. She leaned back against the warmth of his big frame and his arm went around her protectively. Funny how she just seemed to fit against him that way. They rode out across the rolling land into the darkness, heading north. Somewhere ahead of them, the big lobo wolf sang in the September night and it suddenly seemed to Glory he was singing to her.
Eleven
The five of them caught up with the main Cheyenne band late that night, where they were camped on a creek. Many gathered around to greet the new baby, Brave Dream, and nod with respect to Two Arrows and even Glory. Evidently, the fleeing Cheyenne had not expected to see the little group again, thinking they had been killed or captured by the pursuing soldiers.
Those already camped shared what little food they had, and then Two Arrows tossed her a blanket. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a long day; we are almost out of supplies. The council meets at dawn to make some tough choices.”
“You could surrender,” Glory suggested as she took the blanket and lay down near the fire. “The army will feed you.”
“If the army had fed us, these people would not now be trying to walk clear back to the Dakotas,” he said wryly.
He spoke the truth, she thought, ashamed now of her own people. All these Indians looked so desperate and thin.
Two Arrows paused, then leaned over to pull her blanket up over her shoulders. “What you did, helping Moccasin Woman with Redbird and her baby; that was more than we expected.”
“It seemed a decent thing to do,” she said truthfully.
“Most white women wouldn’t have bothered, especially since you’re a captive.”
A captive. She had almost forgotten that. “I’m so tired of being dirty and hungry,” she said, “and my hair is just tangled and awful.”
He surveyed her in her filthy, torn dress, stiff with his dried blood. “To me, you will always be pretty, Proud One. Tomorrow, I’ll try to find you something to wear.”
Cheyenne Song Page 15