She tried the ropes again, her heart thudding hard inside her chest when she discovered that now all she had to do was slide her hands free!
“Come with me,” One Eye said, nodding toward the creek as he began walking toward it, seeing that Marsha was staying directly at his side. “But hurry. I want to get you into hiding before daybreak.”
“We have that much farther to go?” Marsha asked, now playing along with him, knowing that true freedom was only a few heartbeats away if everything went as planned.
She eyed his knife.
It was at his left side, the side on which she was walking.
She could grab it in an instant.
But no, she quickly thought. No matter how much she hated this man, she couldn’t kill him with a knife. She couldn’t even think about how it must feel to sink a knife into another person’s flesh. No. There had to be a better way.
She stepped up to the water with One Eye. Suddenly he gave her a shove that made her fall quickly to the ground on her knees, causing pain to shoot through them—and her ropes to fall away.
But One Eye hadn’t noticed. An owl hooting suddenly in a tree above them startled him.
Marsha could tell that he was troubled by the owl, for he had gasped and searched the tree limbs above him for the night bird. Marsha realized why he was reacting to the owl in such a way. She had studied Indian lore while she was in school in Georgia, and had read that owls frightened some Indians, who took their presence for a bad omen.
Marsha’s heart pounded as she realized this was her opportunity to act, and act quickly.
One Eye still hadn’t noticed that her wrists were free. His back was to her as he continued to look for the owl that had repeated its call into the night, this time seeming to be closer, almost straight above her on the low-hanging limbs of a willow tree.
Forgetting how her knees ached from the hard fall and thinking only one thing now—escape—Marsha moved to her feet. Her eyes searched around her, then stopped when she saw a large rock. It wasn’t too large for her to pick up, yet large enough to hopefully crack open this evil man’s skull.
Breathing hard and knowing that every second counted now, she picked up the rock and stepped quickly behind him. Just as he started to turn, she lowered the rock to his head, hitting him on the left of his skull.
The sound when she hit him was like a walnut cracking. Marsha felt suddenly ill at her stomach, especially when she saw blood pouring from the head wound as One Eye crumpled to the ground, silent and still.
Marsha stared down at him. She had gotten the best of a man whom surely no one had ever bested!
And . . . and he did seem dead, but she was still afraid to get too close to him, to check for a pulse beat in the vein of his throat, because he might be conscious enough to grab her and kill her with his knife. Marsha decided to leave well enough alone.
She could return home! She could bring her brother and Swift Horse back there, so they could witness for themselves, once and for all, that she had not been imagining things when she had said that One Eye was the horrible one-eyed killer!
She ran to the horse, her knees suddenly rubbery and weak from the ordeal she had just been through, but managed to get in the saddle. She grabbed the reins, took one last look at One Eye, then wheeled the horse around and headed, hopefully, back in the direction of the Creek village. However, she soon realized that she wasn’t sure at all where she was. She was confused in the dark. Everywhere she looked things seemed the same, and if she rode in a circle, she might end up back where she had left One Eye.
She studied the stars, then the moon, and then the lay of the land. She still didn’t know which way to go. She was lost!
Near to tears, Marsha snapped the reins and prayed that she would somehow find the right way home. Then something worse sent a cold fear through her. It was the sound of an approaching horse! What if it was someone from One Eye’s renegade gang?
“Oh, please, no . . .” she sobbed, panic filling her very being.
She looked to the right.
She looked to the left.
When she found thick brush and trees at her right side, she rode hurriedly toward them. She dismounted and clung to the reins to wait for the stranger to ride past. Then she would resume her own journey into the night and hope that the good Lord above would guide her in the right direction.
The horse was now so close she could hear its heaving as it rode hard in the night. Marsha stared through the brush so that she might be able to see the rider’s face.
If it was a renegade, she would soon know.
It was as though a breath of fresh air had suddenly been blown onto Marsha’s face when she saw just who it was! “Swift Horse!” she cried, running out into his horse’s path.
Swift Horse could hardly believe his eyes. There his woman stood, waving him down . . . unharmed!
He drew a tight rein, causing his horse to stop abruptly. He still couldn’t believe his eyes. He had prayed to the Supreme God in the Heavens, the Master of Breath, that he would find Marsha—and not injured in any way—and his prayer had been answered.
There his woman was, and she wasn’t injured! Not in any way that was visible to him, at least.
He knew that the trauma of the situation had surely caused her much inward pain. He would kiss it away!
He leaped from his horse and grabbed Marsha into his arms. He held her tightly, aware of how much she was trembling and clinging to him.
“It was One Eye!” she cried. “He . . . he . . . abducted me.” She eased from his arms and gazed up into his eyes, the moon still high and bright above them.
“But I was first taken by the cowkeeper,” she said, still finding it incredible that Swift Horse was there, and that she was going to be all right!
“I know,” Swift Horse said, his arms still around her waist, his eyes devouring her. “I followed the tracks to the cowkeeper’s house. I went inside. I found him.”
“One Eye killed him,” Marsha gulped out, recalling the viciousness of the attack with the knife.
“He lived long enough to say three words,” Swift Horse said softly. “He said one, eye, and Marsha.”
“Then you know!” Marsha cried. “You finally know that the one-eyed man was One Eye!”
“The cowkeeper did not identify the man specifically,” Swift Horse said thickly. “He said one eye, not that it was One Eye.”
“Are you saying that you still don’t believe it was One Eye?” Marsha said, finding it hard not to shout at him. How could he not believe that it was One Eye? How could she ever make him believe it if he did not believe it now?
“I still cannot see my friend as a renegade,” Swift Horse said. “Was this man dressed as a renegade—or as One Eye dresses?”
“As . . .” Marsha gulped out: “He wore a breechclout and war paint on his face.”
“Then do you not see?” Swift Horse said, so wanting to believe that his friend could not have done this thing. “One Eye has never worn a breechclout or the paint of a renegade.”
“Of course he wouldn’t in front of you,” Marsha cried, getting more frustrated by the minute. “Or anyone else he wanted to fool.”
She hung her head, then gazed into Swift Horse’s eyes. “It was all so horrible,” she sobbed. “Alan Burton abducted me from my home then locked me in a room with no windows. He kept the door hidden behind a chifforobe. He had it slid aside and was forcing whiskey on me when One Eye arrived. After One Eye plunged the knife into Alan Burton’s back, he took me. I’m not sure what his final plans were for me.”
Swift Horse slowly shook his head back and forth. “I still cannot accept that One Eye is the one who did this to you,” he said tightly, then his eyes widened. “Marsha, how did you escape?”
She quickly explained how it had happened.
“I’m not sure if he is dead or alive,” she gulped out. “I was afraid to get close enough to check his pulse. I was so afraid that he’d grab me and kill me before he
died himself.”
“Can you remember where you left the man?” Swift Horse asked, searching her eyes.
“I’m so lost,” she cried. “I’m not sure of anything.” Then she said, “But we can’t be that far from where I left him, because I haven’t been traveling for all that long.”
“The horse’s tracks from where you left the one-eyed man will lead us back to him,” Swift Horse said. “Come. We shall follow them. We will find him.”
Marsha silently prayed that One Eye would still be there. Finally Swift Horse would know he was the one-eyed man. Finally the proof would be there, staring him in the face.
Marsha got One Eye’s horse. She walked beside Swift Horse as his eyes stayed glued to the ground as he walked his own steed, following the tracks. They wandered onward, and then Marsha grabbed at Swift Horse’s arm.
“The creek,” she said tightly. “Over there. That’s where you will find him.”
“There are many creeks . . .” Swift Horse said, gazing into her eyes.
“I know, but I’m almost certain this is where it happened,” she murmured, the sound of the owl still making its eerie night call convincing her.
They walked onward, then Marsha stopped and stared blankly where she had left One Eye, the bloody rock proving that this was absolutely where she had left him—but he was gone!
“He’s still alive,” she gasped out, paling at the very thought of him still out there ready to wreak more havoc, and surely more eager to kill her now than before. She, a woman, had bested him.
She looked desperately at Swift Horse. “He’s alive—and gone,” she said, her voice drawn.
“For now it is enough that you are alive and well,” he said quickly, grabbing Marsha against him, holding her tightly. “My woman, had that man killed you . . .”
“I’m fine,” she softly explained.
Their lips came together in a quivering, warm and sweet kiss, but Marsha could not keep her mind on the kiss or embrace. She could not help but fear One Eye’s escape.
Oh, Lord . . . where was he?
Chapter 25
That was all I meant,
—To be just
And the passion I had raised,
To content.
—Robert Browning
Edward James stood staring at Marsha’s sewing basket. “Where is Marsha?” he said thickly, not certain now what to do. When he had arrived home and found her sewing equipment spilled at the foot of the chair where she always sat and sewed before the fire, panic had grabbed at his gut.
His sister was too particular to have left her thread and sewing needles on the floor. They were there because someone had come in after he had left his sister to visit Soft Wind.
Someone had abducted her!
He had hurried to Swift Horse’s cabin to seek his help, or to see if, just by chance, Marsha was there. Perhaps Swift Horse had discovered her missing, as well, and had gone and found her. But when Edward James had found no one at Swift Horse’s cabin and had seen that his favorite steed was gone, he could only assume that Swift Horse was out there searching for Marsha and the man who abducted her.
Edward James began pacing, then stopped and lifted a log onto the fire. He turned and gazed at the back door. He knew Marsha had double-bolted it. That had to mean that whoever came uninvited came through his store.
He doubled a fist and raised it in the air. “How could I be so foolish to think no one would come into my store at night?” he shouted, his face hot with anger. “Threats mean nothing to those who have an agenda. Tonight that agenda was my sister!”
He thought about who might have taken her and came up with two prospects.
The cowkeeper, who had come to claim his reward after saving her from the fire.
And then there was the one-eyed man who might have heard that she was hell-bent on finding him and making him pay for his crimes.
“And what if that one-eyed man is One Eye?” he whispered harshly, lowering his hand to his side.
He shuddered at the thought of that possibility, and remembered how he had ignored his sister when she had said that he was the one who had murdered their parents. If One Eye was the culprit, he could be the one to have done this asinine deed tonight, to silence her.
“Please let nothing happen to her,” Edward James said as he gazed upward, seeking help from the Almighty. “Please, oh please, let Swift Horse find her—find her untouched.”
The sound of an arriving horse outside his cabin made his throat suddenly constrict.
His heart thumped wildly inside his chest from fear of possibly being moments away from discovering that something terrible might have happened to his beloved sister. If so, he wasn’t sure if he would want to live, either.
“His knees almost rubbery from fear, Edward James went to the back door and hurried outside. He felt keen relief rush through him when he found not only Swift Horse there, but also his sister.
“What happened?” Edward James asked, his voice drawn as he hurried up to them, eager to take his sister in his arms. “Sis, where . . . who . . . ?”
Understanding how anxious her brother was for answers, Marsha stepped away from Swift Horse and flung herself into her big brother’s arms.
“I’m all right,” she murmured as he held her tightly against him, tears streaming from his eyes.
She gazed up at him. “Big brother, you’re crying,” she said, stepping away from him. She reached a finger to his face and wiped away the tears. “I’m so sorry I had you this frightened, but . . . but . . . I had no control over what the men did,” she said, her voice breaking.
“Men?” Edward James gasped, his eyes widening. “Lord, sis, what men? And what did they do to you?”
“Edward James, I am not harmed in any way, especially not the way you might be thinking,” Marsha murmured. “Let’s go inside. I’m bone-weary from the experience. I’d like to sit down. And then I’ll tell you everything.”
Swift Horse stepped up to them. He took one of her hands. “I will leave you now,” he said, looking slowly from Marsha to Edward James. “You can talk, and I have someone to see.”
“You have someone to see this late at night?” Marsha asked, searching his eyes.
“I must consult my shaman about what has happened and seek his help to find the one-eyed man,” he said, his jaw tight.
He tried not to envision that that one-eyed man might be his friend One Eye, even though Marsha still tried to convince him that he was. He could not see how One Eye could ever be his enemy, when they had been soul mates—best friends—for so long.
“The one-eyed man?” Edward James gasped. He looked quickly at Marsha. “He did this . . . ?”
Marsha nodded. “Yes, he is the very one, the same man who has torn so many lives apart,” she murmured.
She turned to Swift Horse. “One day you will believe me when I tell you that the one-eyed man is One Eye, your friend—who is, in truth, your worst enemy,” she said, her voice drawn. “He is playing a good game, still, of being your friend, but truly is evil through and through.”
“I want to believe you, too, because you wouldn’t want to turn me against someone I have loved as a friend for so long,” Swift Horse said, frowning.
He swallowed hard. “In time, everyone will know the man’s true identity, and he will pay for his crimes. If he is One Eye, he will also pay for having played games with this Creek’s heart,” Swift Horse said emotionally.
“One day you will see that I am right about this man,” Marsha murmured. “A lot of people aren’t who they seem to be, or want people to believe they are.”
She leaned into his embrace and gave him a comforting hug. “I understand how you can’t accept what I say as fact,” she murmured. “But in time, it will be proved to you. I’m just so sorry that when you do discover the truth, the hurt will be harder, for the longer he gets away with tricking you, the more it will humiliate and hurt you once the truth is known about him.”
Marsha swall
owed hard, for she hated thinking about the day when he would be faced with the truth. That truth would cut like a knife into his heart, a heart that had trusted this one-eyed man for far too long.
She stepped away from Swift Horse as he mounted his horse. “Swift Horse, thank you for coming and finding me,” Marsha murmured, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes—tears of happiness for being alive.
Swift Horse gave her a smile that made her insides melt, then rode off in the direction of Bright Moon’s cabin. Marsha understood his need to be with Bright Moon.
“Come on, sis,” Edward James said, taking her by a hand. “I want to hear it all. You mentioned the one-eyed man. Who was the other man?” He stopped and gazed at her. “Or do I even need ask?”
“I’m sure you are assuming right,” Marsha murmured. “The man who came for me and abducted me first was Alan Burton.”
“Alan Burton, the cowkeeper . . .” Edward James said between clenched teeth. “I had thought he might be the one.”
“I’ll tell you all about it,” Marsha said, reaching a comforting hand to his cheek. “Let’s go in and sit by the fire. It is just so good to be home.”
“Home?” Edward James said, slowly smiling. “That is the first time you referred to my home as yours.”
“I know,” Marsha said, walking into the lamp-lit room. “I have never let myself adjust. There was always the one-eyed man getting in the way of seeing this home as mine. Because of him, we no longer have a mother and father to be a part of that home. But now? At this moment, Edward James, you make me feel as though I have just come home.”
He turned and hugged her, then closed and locked the door behind them.
He took her hand and led her over to a rocking chair and sat down beside her.
“First I want you to know that the store door is locked and it will be from now on when I am not in the store during working hours,” Edward James said. “I trusted too much, but living here among the Creek, I didn’t see anyone being brazen enough to break into my store. I see that I was wrong. I have trusted too easily.”
“You have such a good heart, that is why you trust so easily,” Marsha said. She ran her fingers through her thick golden hair, combing out the tangles caused by her times on the horses tonight.
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