Swift Horse

by Cassie Edwards

  Up, to thy wonted work! come, trace

  The epitaph of glory fled;

  For now the Earth has changed its face,

  A frown is on the Heaven’s brow.

  —Percy Bysshe Shelley

  One Eye had been ready to leave the village when he saw Marsha being brought home in Swift Horse’s arms.

  “I must find a way to silence her forever, but cast the guilt elsewhere,” he whispered to himself, glowering as he now watched Swift Horse hurry to his shaman’s cabin. If One Eye had his way, he would kill the shaman so that he could not help the woman.

  A sudden thought came to him that made him grin. He shifted himself in his saddle and rode away from the village, smiling even more broadly.

  Yes, he had a plan. It would surely work!

  He knew how much the cowkeeper was hated by Swift Horse and his people, and even Edward James Eveland, the village storekeeper. The cowkeeper was presently without a wife. Perhaps the cowkeeper could be the person the woman’s brother, as well as Swift Horse, would suspect, if Marsha came up missing. They would think that Alan Burton had taken her!

  One Eye would kill Marsha and then plant her dead body in the cowkeeper’s house after he killed Alan Burton.

  One Eye would make it appear as though the cowkeeper and Marsha had struggled and that she had been able to stab the cowkeeper with his knife after he had inflicted a deadly wound on her. They would be found dead, together, at the cowkeeper’s house.

  Smiling wickedly, One Eye rode from the village. He knew to avoid the area where the hunt was in progress.

  While the woman lived, she was too much of a threat to One Eye’s existence, for although no one believed her, she knew that it was he who had killed her parents, and it was apparent that she would stop at nothing to prove his guilt!

  He laughed throatily, thinking how stupid Swift Horse was to believe that his one-eyed friend, the chief of the Wolf Clan of Creek, could never do anything as evil as the ambushes and murders that he had done.

  One Eye even had the blood of Swift Horse’s very own parents on his hands! He killed for the fun of it, not for what he gained from it otherwise.

  Chapter 12

  O! let me have thee whole,—all—all—be mine!

  That shape, that fairness....

  —John Keats

  “Sis!” Edward James said as she meandered into his store several days later.

  He rushed to her as she stopped and teetered somewhat, grabbing for her and holding her steady. “Sis, I told you not to leave your bed today,” he said thickly. “I can do whatever needs to be done.”

  “I don’t think I’m ready to eat any of your cooking, Edward James,” Marsha said, giggling. She smiled up at him from her shorter height. “Big brother, I am much, much better today. Can’t you see that? I’ve come to the store for some flour. I plan to make bread.”

  “No, you don’t,” Edward James said, taking her by an arm and trying to turn her back in the direction of their home, but she stayed firm. “If you won’t stay in bed, at least sit by the fire and crochet or read. Truly, sis. I know how to cook. Who do you think cooked for me before you came?”

  She gave him a look he understood well. She believed that Soft Wind had been cooking for him . . . and probably many more things.

  “Well, yes, Soft Wind did bring me supper now and then,” Edward said, absently running his fingers through his thick rusty-red hair. “But you have to know that wasn’t immediately after I arrived here. I didn’t know her yet.”

  “I’m sure Swift Horse made certain the women of the village kept you in nourishing food,” Marsha said, then winced and reached her hand to her cheek, where her burn still pained her despite Bright Moon’s medicine.

  “See there?” Edward James said, gently taking her by an arm. “You are still in pain. I’m going to take you back to the living quarters. I insist you lie down, at least for the rest of the morning. And then, if you must, prepare something simple for supper.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Marsha said, taking a step toward the door that led into their home, then stopped with a start and spun around when the front door of the store opened and then slammed closed. Her insides tightened when she saw Alan Burton standing there, the wide grin on his whiskered face revealing where one tooth was missing.

  Edward James turned and his hands curved into tight fists when he saw that the cowkeeper had actually come into the trading post when he knew that he wasn’t welcome. He had become a thorn in everyone’s side in the area. Knowing just how much trouble he caused, time and again, for Swift Horse and his people, Edward James walked angrily toward the man.

  Alan ignored Edward James. “Good mornin’ to you, ma’am,” he said, lifting his wide-brimmed hat from his head and going through the motions of a mock bow.

  He straightened his back, his eyes still on Marsha, and still very openly ignoring Edward James’s presence. “Ma’am, I’ve come to pay my respects,” he said thickly. “It pleases me to see how well you are after the traumatic experience that you had the other day. It is good to see you up and out of bed and doing so well.”

  His smile waned when he gazed at the slight burn on her right cheek. He nodded toward it. “I regret not being able to save you from that one burn,” he said. “But I feel that you are lucky if that is all that came from your moments in that circle of fire.”

  He glared suddenly at Edward James, who stepped up in front of him, blocking his view of Marsha. “Step aside, storekeeper,” he said, placing a hand on Edward James’s shoulder and giving him a half shove. “I’ve come to pay my respects to your lovely sister. If you recall, it was I who saved her from that hellish fire that the Injuns set. They know the dangers. Not only does it destroy good vegetation and kill small animals, this time it almost killed your sister.”

  “Give me one more shove and you’ll get a whipping you’ll never forget,” Edward James said, grabbing Alan’s wrist and moving it away from him, then releasing it. He leaned into the man’s face. “And you’d best forget your obvious intentions toward my sister. You aren’t good enough to even shine her shoes, so turn around and get outta here or be sorry for ignoring my warnings.”

  “I’d be careful who you’re giving warnings to,” Alan said, yet took a step away from Edward James, an uneasiness in his beady gray eyes.

  “Get this, Cowkeeper,” Edward James said, stepping closer to the man. “I’m giving you another warning, and let me see what you are going to do about it. Scat. I don’t want the likes of you at my trading post. Turn around and go back to where you came from, and while you’re at it, take my warnings about my sister with you. Forget you ever saw her. Do you hear?”

  “Just like I should’ve ignored her the other day as though I didn’t see her?” Alan said, laughing throatily. “Had I not came along, she’d have died. You’re an ungrateful sort, but I didn’t expect much more than that from you. You’ve sided with the Injuns in the area. You might as well exchange blood with them and be one of ’em, yourself.”

  “If you came for a thank you for what you did, all right, I’ll tell you that I am much obliged that you saved my sister,” Edward James said, sliding his hands into his front breeches pockets, something Marsha knew that her brother did when he was frustrated about something. She knew that he would have rather had his eyeteeth pulled than thank this man for anything.

  “Now that’s more like it,” Alan said, smiling victoriously as he took a step to the right, which again gave him a full view of Marsha. “Ma’am, I’d appreciate it if you’d accept my invitation to sit and talk with me someday soon. My wife died not all that long ago. I’ve been mighty starved for female companionship.”

  Marsha’s eyes widened in disbelief, changing to horror when she realized why this man was there. He didn’t just want their thanks for having saved her. He was actually making advances toward her.

  She looked quickly at Edward James, awaiting his explosion, but she saw that although his eyes were lit with
fire, he kept his temper under control. But she didn’t know for how much longer.

  “Cowkeeper, I think you’d best consider not carrying this role of ‘hero’ you’re playing much farther,” Edward James said between his clenched teeth. “Like I said, I am much obliged for you having saved my sister, but that does not give you an iota of a claim on her. In other words, Cowkeeper, neither she nor I owe you anything.”

  He took a step closer to Alan again. “And had you not happened along just when you did, someone else was there to rescue her,” he said tightly. “Swift Horse was only a few feet away. Had you not been there, Swift Horse would’ve saved Marsha.”

  “It does not erase the fact that I did save her, not Swift Horse,” Alan said bitterly. “And I have come to get my dues. All I want is some time with your sister, to talk, nothin’ more. Now is that askin’ too much for what I did?”

  Marsha stepped up beside Edward James. She placed a gentle hand on his arm. “Edward James, Alan did save me,” she murmured. “I do owe him something.”

  “Marsha!” Edward James gasped, paling. “What are you saying?”

  She turned and faced the cowkeeper, feeling sick inside at the look of hope on his face and in his anxious eyes. He was taking what she was about to do—was about to say—in the wrong way. He was actually feeling hopeful.

  “Sir, I am grateful for what you did for me,” she said softly. “But I must decline your offer. My brother is a good judge of character. Yes, I am grateful, but that is as far as any of this will go.”

  “Why, you bi—” he began, but stopped short. Edward James had yanked his fists from his pockets, ready to defend his sister if she was wronged in any way.

  “I should take your horse home with me and forget I rescued it for you,” Alan said bitterly.

  “White Cloud?” Marsha gasped, her eyes widening. “You found White Cloud? I thought she perished in the fire. My brother and Swift Horse went looking for her . . .”

  Alan gestured with his head toward the door. “The horse is outside,” he grumbled. “I brought your white mare home to you. Now I wish I’d kept it for myself. A man never has too many horses.”

  He glared first at Edward James and then at Marsha, then turned and stamped from the building.

  Marsha felt a cold chill throughout her body. She hugged herself and visibly shivered as she looked slowly at Edward James, who was gazing lovingly down at her.

  “He’ll not bother you again,” he said, gently drawing her into his embrace. Marsha clung to him, her eyes still on the closed door, and stiffened even more inside when she heard Alan Burton ride away in a hard gallop on his steed.

  She seemed to have stirred up a hornet’s nest. She deeply regretted having crossed paths with Alan Burton.

  Had she remained at the trading post that day of the fires, and waited for a more opportune time to get someone to listen to her about Swift Horse’s one-eyed friend, she wouldn’t have put her brother in the position of having come face-to-face with a man he abhorred, nor would she have him to fear now.

  As it was, she now had not only the one-eyed renegade to be afraid of, but also the cowkeeper. She knew that she hadn’t seen nor heard the last of this man. He seemed the determined sort, and he had obviously singled her out to be the next woman in his life.

  She truly feared their next confrontation.

  Chapter 13

  Best and brightest, come away—

  Fairer far than this fair day,

  Which, like thee, to those in sorrow

  Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow.

  —Percy Bysshe Shelley

  Marsha worked quickly with her chores, glad that she had her strength back after her horrible ordeal. Her throat and lungs still ached, but not unbearably. Her parents had always said that she was the strongest girl they had ever known, despite her tiny frame.

  Even when she had had bad colds that would incapacitate most people, she had been able to bounce back as good as new after only one day of having been made to stay in bed.

  Today was a special day at the Creek village, and she was glad to feel well enough to join them in the council house.

  Although her brother would be working at the trading post, he had told her that he thought it would be all right if she joined the Wind Clan of Creek on their special day, when they celebrated the first buck killed this hunting season, although there were some things about it that might cause her stomach to feel weak.

  This special buck had been kept aside and unskinned, for the special ceremony. Marsha looked forward to this ceremony at the huge council house, because she knew that she would be able to see Swift Horse again, and this time in his full capacity as chief. He would be presiding over the ceremony.

  The ceremony was to be held at midmorning, which was quickly approaching. She had seen several Creek people walking toward the council house already. She had decided to wait until only moments before the ceremony to go herself, for she would be going there alone and would want to stay far at the back so that no one would notice her.

  Truth be told, all that she truly wanted from this day was to be able to see Swift Horse again, and see him presiding over the ceremony as chief. Since he had brought her home after he had taken her from Alan Burton, she had not been able to get him off her mind.

  She was smitten, and she had to rationalize why.

  Was it because he was so breathtakingly handsome? Or was it because he was a great chief—a leader? Or did she truly have feelings that went deeper than that?

  After today, she hoped to have the answers she so badly needed, for she was in this village to stay, and she needed to get her head on straight about how she should feel about these people’s chief.

  Her heart seemed to miss several beats when she heard the voice of the man she had just been thinking about out in the store. He was asking Edward James about her! He wanted to know how she was, before he went on to the council house for the special ceremony.

  She could hardly believe that he cared this much for her and her welfare, that he would inquire about her before he presided over an important ceremony; yet had it not been in his eyes every time he had looked at her that he cared?

  Had it not been in his voice? Hadn’t it been in the way he had held her so endearingly close when he had carried her on his lap away from the fire? And now, to have actually taken the time before the special ceremony to ask about her?

  It made her insides melt with wonder all over again about him, but this time, she knew why she felt this way. She knew at this very moment that she was not merely infatuated with this man, nor simply grateful for what he had done for her.

  Her feelings centered around her heart, in that she had fallen in love with this Creek chief, perhaps the very first time she had seen him.

  She so badly wanted to go out into the store and show him that she was all right—except for the scar on her face, where she had been slightly burned—but she was afraid that might be a bit too forward. She would stay put and hope that later on today she might be able to speak with him—hopefully, alone.

  A knock on the back door of the living quarters drew Marsha quickly around. She forked her eyebrows when someone knocked again.

  Wondering who it might be, she lifted the hem of her skirt and started toward the door, then stopped and thought of Alan Burton and how he had shown such an interest in her.

  If it was he, and he had come for his “reward” for having saved her from the fire, she would not know what to say to him.

  She could never forget the look in his eyes when he had talked about her and implied that he wanted to court her since he no longer had a wife.

  She started to back away from the door, her heart thudding inside her chest at the thought of it being the cowkeeper come to call, when a voice on the other side of the closed door proved her wrong.

  It wasn’t the cowkeeper after all. It was Abraham.

  Sighing with relief, Marsha hurried to the door and opened it. She heaved a heavy sigh whe
n she saw what Abraham had in his arms: It was the fawn that she had tried to rescue.

  “Ma’am, I thought you might want to see the fawn this mornin’ and see that it is farin’ well,” Abraham said, lovingly stroking the tiny animal’s back as the fawn stared at Marsha with its wide, dark eyes. “And do you see? I have its leg in a splint and bandaged. It can get around all right now.”

  “Oh, Abraham, thank you so much for helping the sweet animal,” Marsha said, glad when he held it out for her to take.

  She held her arms out as he eased the fawn into them. She held it close and smiled down into its still-watchful eyes. “You dear,” she murmured. “Had I not seen you . . .”

  “Hush with talk such as that,” Abraham softly encouraged. “The fawn was saved and will soon be as fit as a fiddle. Its leg will heal good enough. One day it’ll be among its own again.”

  “But not too soon, I hope,” Marsha said, stroking the animal’s back. “It wouldn’t have a chance out there in the wild without its mother.”

  Abraham stood there silent for a while, then looked over his shoulder when he saw more people walking toward the huge council house, then gazed into Marsha’s eyes. “Would it be too bold of me to ask if you’re going to the ceremony?” he asked in a tone that was cautious.

  “Yes, I plan to go,” Marsha said, seeing how his eyes momentarily humbly lowered, then looked up at her again.

  “Might I goes with you, ma’am?” Abraham asked, then visibly tightened. “Or am I bein’ too bold to asks you, a white woman, such a question as that?”

  “No, you aren’t being too bold at all, and I’m glad you asked,” Marsha hurried out. “I was dreading going by myself since my brother can’t go.” She smiled up at him. “Abraham, I would be delighted to have you as my escort,” she murmured.

  She hated the ignorance of many white people, how they could put themselves above anyone else, when everyone should be working together in this world to make it a better, equal place for all.