Swift Horse

by Cassie Edwards

  Now truly feeling trapped, White Cloud nervously pawing at the ground, her nostrils flaring, seemingly frozen by fear, Marsha dismounted. “Is anyone near?” she screamed, as the fire slowly advanced in the circle all around her, burning everything in its path.

  She wasn’t sure which way she should go. Fire and smoke were everywhere!

  “Please!” she cried as she stumbled away from her horse, tears streaming from her eyes. “Someone come and help me!” Then she stopped dead in her tracks. She saw a little fawn trapped, too, amidst the flames.

  The smoke choking her, Marsha made her way toward the fawn that now lay on the ground, its eyes closed, perhaps dead! But Marsha couldn’t leave it there. Perhaps it was still alive, even if only barely. She must save it!

  The smoke was choking Marsha. Her eyes were burning so badly now she could hardly see one inch ahead of her, but she finally reached the tiny animal. She leaned down over it and saw that one of its legs was broken.

  Marsha was very aware of the heat. It penetrated the soles of her shoes.

  Trembling now, truly afraid that she wasn’t going to make it to safety, nor be able to save the tiny creature or her beloved horse, she still bent low and swept the fawn into her arms.

  Holding it close to her chest, she struggled to find a way through the smoke and the flames, moving around in a circle as she searched, staggering now, coughing.

  The flames were closing in, and she couldn’t find an opening for her escape.

  She saw her life flashing before her eyes before dropping the fawn and blacking out, falling limply toward the ground.

  Chapter 9

  He is made one with Nature: there is heard

  His voice in all her music, from the moan

  Of thunder, to the song of night’s sweet bird.

  —Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Having seen the smoke, Alan Burton, whom so many called Cowkeeper, rode hard toward it on his black stallion. Anger swelled inside him because he knew why things were afire today, yet had to see it for himself. He especially had to see how much land it was consuming and just how close it might get to his ranch, where his cows were innocently grazing on tall, green grass.

  He found it hard to believe that the Creek were using this method to hunt, when from all of his observations, there were plenty of deer to just go out and shoot!

  “But, no,” he cried to the heavens. “They had to set good land afire!” He was so angry he could hardly contain it.

  The fires were eating up grazing grasses, and risked killing tiny, innocent forest animals that would get caught amidst the flames.

  “The fools!” he shouted, raising a fist above his head and swinging it.

  He coughed when he found himself engulfed in a thicker, rolling smoke. He covered his mouth with a hand and blinked his eyes to clear them of the sting, yet he rode onward.

  His eyes narrowed angrily when he finally saw the flames up ahead that were sending off the ungodly smoke that had reached as far as his ranch. He urged his horse forward to see just how far the flames were reaching, coughing and choking the farther he rode.

  Realizing that he had gone his limit, yet close enough now to see the huge circle of fire, he drew a tight rein and patted his horse on the neck. He could feel the fear in his horse, and as it yanked on the reins and looked back at him, he saw it in the wildness of its eyes.

  “It’s okay, boy,” Alan reassured his stallion.

  He started to wheel his horse around to head back for home, but stopped, swallowed hard, and wiped at his eyes to see if he was imagining things or if he had seen a woman lying amidst the flames. He looked again through his stinging eyes. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that what he had seen was real enough. A woman lay within the circle of fire, the fire slowly inching its way toward her.

  “Lord amighty!” he cried as he leaped from his horse. His hands trembled as he grabbed a blanket from his saddlebag.

  He looked anxiously around him for the creek that he knew should be there but was momentarily hidden behind the smoke. The smoke separated and there it was.

  Water!

  He ran to the creek and fell to his knees, dunking the blanket into the water and soaking it thoroughly. Then he stood up, and as he ran back in the direction of the flames, he threw the blanket over himself, leaving enough of his face exposed in order for him to see where he was going.

  Gathering his courage, he swallowed hard, then bravely ran through the fire, feeling the heat even through the wetness of the blanket and the soles of his boots.

  He knelt down beside the woman. He hoped that she was still alive, but he didn’t have the time to check for a pulse. The important thing was to get her to safety.

  His eyes darted over to the tiny creature that lay beside the woman. He knew that it might already be dead because of smoke inhalation, but if Alan succeeded at getting the woman freed of this damnable fire and smoke, he would try to rescue the fawn, as well.

  He swept Marsha into his arms, hating to feel just how limp she was. Hopefully he was in time and wouldn’t die while trying to save her.

  Holding the blanket over them both now, he sucked in a wild breath, then held it as he ducked low over Marsha and ran again through the fire. He didn’t stop until he had Marsha safely away from the flames and stretched out beside the creek.

  The blanket resting around his shoulders, Alan placed trembling fingers to Marsha’s throat and sighed with relief when he did feel a pulse. He looked toward the flames again. He knew what he must do.

  He wetted down the blanket again, swept it over him, and soon had the fawn back beside Marsha. Alan examined the fawn’s neck and was relieved when he felt a strong pulse. Then he tossed the blanket aside and concentrated on the woman.

  He cupped his hands together, sank them into the creek, and brought out as much water in them as he could. He slowly drizzled the water over Marsha’s face in hopes of reviving her.

  When she still didn’t awaken, he washed her face clean of as much ash as he could, then sprinkled water across her lips, all the while gazing upon her and seeing her loveliness through the ash.

  Now that her face was cleared enough, he recognized her. He had seen her at the back of the trading post, hanging clothes. He had heard about a sister having come to live with the storekeeper.

  Because of a recent confrontation with Edward James Eveland, he knew that he wasn’t welcome at the trading post for a while. Looking from a distance was all that he could do at that time. Hopefully things would change now that he had rescued the woman.

  He smiled slyly at that thought. Yes! A reward would be offered, and he would refuse it. Just having the opportunity to go to the trading post again, to make trade and to see the woman again, would be reward enough.

  As he continued bathing her face, hoping that she would soon awaken, Alan thought about how lonely he had been since the death of his wife. This woman could be the answer to that loneliness. Surely she would be grateful enough to him to allow him to court her.

  Ah, what a beautiful bed partner she would make. Now that a portion of the ash was removed from her face, Alan winced when he saw the slight burns on one cheek.

  Suddenly his insides tightened when he saw her eyelashes fluttering as she slowly awakened.

  She coughed throatily, then gazed up at Alan. Marsha smiled at the man and attempted to say, “Thank you,” through her parched throat, then blacked out again.

  Glad that he had saved both the woman and the fawn, and that she had awakened long enough to see that he was the one who did it, Alan carried Marsha to his horse and laid her beside it. He went back for the fawn and took it and slid it inside his saddlebag, leaving its face exposed, its eyes now wide and watching. Then Alan lifted Marsha onto his lap on his horse, positioning her so that her head rested against his chest.

  Smiling triumphantly, Alan knew this good deed would most certainly get him on the good side of her brother. He needed Edward James’s support against Swift Horse, to
get his way about things. He slapped his reins and rode away from the flames and smoke, then went cold inside when Swift Horse was suddenly there, blocking his way.

  “Hand the woman over to me,” Swift Horse said, his dark eyes glaring at Alan. “I saw her leave her home and made chase but lost track of her until moments ago when I saw her amidst the fire.”

  Alan hesitated, then said, “Absolutely not,” his jaw tight. “I saved her. I’ll take her home to her brother.”

  Swift Horse edged his steed closer to Alan’s. “Cowkeeper, you do not seem to understand,” he said, with an edge to his voice. “I saw her when you saw her. You just reached her before I had the chance to. Hand the woman over to my care now, or regret it later. I will take her to her brother.”

  Marsha awakened through their argument. She saw Swift Horse demanding that she be handed over to him. She had heard Swift Horse call the man Cowkeeper and then realized the company she was in. Everyone despised this man, including her brother.

  She gazed up at Alan and shifted her weight in his arms. He felt her movement and looked quickly down at her.

  “I would rather be returned home by Swift Horse,” she said through her parched throat. “Please be so kind as to give me over to him.”

  Disgruntled, Alan saw that he had no choice. He gently placed her in Swift Horse’s arms, and the chief positioned her on his lap.

  “I . . . also . . . want the fawn,” she said. She looked around her, deeply saddened to believe that White Cloud had more than likely perished in the fire.

  She heard Alan grumble something to himself as he reached inside his saddlebag and slid the fawn free. Marsha reached her arms out for the tiny thing. Alan’s eyes met Marsha’s for a moment, then he placed the animal in her arms.

  Alan glared at Swift Horse. He felt cheated. He would surely not reap any rewards for having saved the beautiful lady, but he would still find a way to use what he had done in his favor.

  He wheeled his horse around and rode toward his home. After traveling a short distance, he spied a beautiful white horse standing at the creek, drinking freely of it.

  He looked in the direction of where he had last seen the woman being taken away by Swift Horse, and smiled. This steed must be hers! He rode up to it and grabbed its reins and again headed for home.

  Having something of the woman’s was certainly in his favor! Perhaps it could be used to lure her to his home. But, no! He would take it to her!

  He smiled as he rode onward, glad to leave the flames and smoke behind.

  Chapter 10

  I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden,

  Thou needest not fear mine;

  My spirit is too deeply laden

  Even to burthen thine.

  —Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Swift Horse rode toward the trading post just as Edward James stepped onto the front porch with a warrior from a neighboring village.

  “Edward James’s arm was around the warrior’s shoulder, talking and laughing—until Edward James saw whom Swift Horse was carrying on his steed.

  “Marsha!” he gasped, racing down the steps to meet Swift Horse. “Lord, what happened?” Edward James asked as he came up next to Swift Horse’s mount. He reached his arms up for his sister just as she opened her eyes and gazed down at him through the ash that still lay heavy on her lashes.

  “Edward James . . .” she said through her parched throat. “I did an unwise thing, I—”

  “Don’t talk,” Edward James said as Swift Horse placed her into her brother’s arms. “Your throat. I can tell . . .”

  “It was the smoke,” Swift Horse said, dismounting. “She collapsed amidst the circle of flame that was set by my warriors.” Swift Horse then told Edward James about having found Marsha with the cowkeeper and how he had demanded her to be given to him.

  “Why was she with him?” Edward James asked.

  “Edward James, it was . . . it was . . . because of the one-eyed man that I did this,” Marsha managed to say before her throat became too raw to say anything else.

  “You did it because of what?” Edward James said, gazing incredulously into her eyes. “Marsha . . .”

  “She came to me for help when she saw One Eye at your store, and thinking it was the one-eyed man who killed your parents, sought my help—” Swift Horse began, but was interrupted when Marsha broke in.

  “The man I saw at the store was the man I saw the day my parents died,” Marsha managed to say through the burning of her throat. “You wouldn’t listen, so I . . .” But her throat being so parched and achy, she couldn’t continue on.

  She hung her head, for she knew that neither man believed her. Would they ever?

  “The man you call One Eye is the man who—” Marsha tried to say, finding it hard to give in to the pain until she made these two understand, but her throat gave way, the pain so intense she even found it hard to swallow now. She had inhaled much smoke, and her lungs ached.

  She managed to direct a soft thank you at Swift Horse for having come for her—for she would have hated being taken to the cowkeeper’s home—before drifting off to sleep, her body as well as her lungs too traumatized by the fire to stay awake.

  “Edward James, I know no more than what I have told you,” Swift Horse said tightly. “I went after your sister when she left the village, but I did not find her soon enough—yet had I been much longer, I would not want to think about the result.”

  He gazed toward the smoke in the distance, then at Edward James, who still stood there, his eyes transfixed on his sister. “Everyone was warned about the fires being set today,” he said with regret in his voice. “Since your sister has not been in the area long enough to understand the true dangers, she did not take it into consideration when she rode from the safety of the village.”

  “But why on earth did she leave?” Edward James said, more to himself than to Swift Horse as he turned and walked up the steps, leaving Swift Horse standing beside his horse, watching until Edward James went inside the trading post.

  “The fawn,” Abraham said suddenly behind Swift Horse, causing Swift Horse to turn with a start, then smile as he saw his friend taking the tiny animal from his travel bag at the side of his steed.

  Swift Horse went to Abraham, who held the tiny animal gingerly in his arms, his dark eyes studying the one limp leg.

  “It is broken,” Abraham said. He looked quickly up at Swift Horse. “I can make it well.”

  Abraham smiled almost shyly at Swift Horse. “I love animals, large and small, but I have never owned one,” he said softly. “But I knows tiny animals well from rescuing those that got lost in the swamps of Florida land. I always took them home and doctored them, then returned them to the wild. I can do the same for this tiny animal. May I?”

  “Yes, it is yours to see to, if you wish to,” Swift Horse said, placing a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder. “But it would not be wise to send it back into the forest just yet, for its mother might have become a part of the hunt.”

  “The lady?” Abraham asked, his eyes filled with a sudden concern. “What happened to the lady?”

  “All I know is that she got trapped within the circle of flames that had been set for my warriors’ hunt,” Swift Horse said thickly. “It is good that that circle was far and wide, for that is the only reason the woman made it out of this alive.”

  “Why did she go there?” Abraham asked, the curiosity still in his wide, dark eyes. “She has a home and a brother. Why would she want to flee them?”

  “She has her reasons, and soon her brother will know them,” Swift Horse said, turning and gazing at the trading post. “I hope to know them, too.”

  “I wish her well,” Abraham said, swallowing hard.

  “I do, as well, for if she does not survive this, I will feel responsible,” Swift Horse said, sighing heavily.

  “But you did not send her into the fire,” Abraham reasoned out. “So you should not feel responsible.”

  “I feel responsible for her no
t being made to understand the dangers of our people’s hunts,” Swift Horse said, again sighing.

  “She will survive this,” Abraham reassured. “Just you wait and see. Then you can teach her as you have taught everyone else of this village what is dangerous and what is not.” Abraham stepped closer to Swift Horse and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You are a wise man,” he said seriously. “You are a kind-hearted, gentle, wise man.”

  “Thank you,” Swift Horse said, smiling at Abraham. He then reached out and stroked the fawn’s back as the tiny animal gazed trustingly back at him. “Take the animal,” he said. “It has trust in its eyes and heart for you.”

  “It will be the first thing that I have been free to love,” Abraham said, tears filling his eyes. He gave Swift Horse a humble look. “Again, thank you.”

  Swift Horse only nodded and then watched Abraham take the fawn away to his cabin. He looked over his shoulder again at the trading post, his thoughts now again filled with Marsha. Had he not come along and stopped the cowkeeper from taking her, perhaps no one would have ever seen her again.

  He knew how scheming a man Alan Burton was, and being now without a wife, who was to say what his plans had been for Marsha? Even thinking of the possibility of that man having taken her to his home with plans of keeping her made a flash of heated hate rush through him. He would make certain that the cowkeeper wouldn’t come close to Marsha again, and he would also do what he could to make her well.

  He would send Bright Moon to Marsha. Bright Moon would do his magic, and the beautiful woman Swift Horse now knew that he loved would soon be well again.

  His heart warmed as he thought of that moment when she had said thank you through her parched throat and smiled so sweetly at him. The thing that he must do was try to make this up to her by finding the one-eyed man who was truly guilty and at the same time prove that his friend was innocent of such crimes!

  Chapter 11