by Vivi Holt
“I’m sure they’ll find ‘er soon,” said Hannah, sitting down beside Genevieve and patting her leg reassuringly.
“Yes, but where has she been all night? If she’s well, she wouldn’t have been gone all night, would she?” asked Genevieve, as she chewed nervously on a fingernail. “And the baby…”
“I don’t know,” whispered Hannah.
Cora’s fingers flew. She was crocheting a cap for Sarah’s baby. It was all she could think to do in the moment to contribute. She felt completely helpless, and wished there was more she could do.
“Where’s Momma?” asked Will, looking up at Cora, his lower lip trembling. “I want Momma.”
Cora’s heart dropped and she drew a deep breath before answering. “She’ll be back soon, sweetheart. Want to do some drawing? I’ll bet Aunt Genny has some paper around here somewhere.”
Genevieve nodded, and hurried to fetch paper and pencils for Will, who trotted after her, happy for the moment with this new distraction.
The front door opened, and Dusty walked in with Bill right behind him. He strode over to Cora with a worried expression. He smiled tightly at her, and took his hat off to nod a greeting to Hannah.
“Ladies. How ya doin’?”
“Dusty,” said Cora, standing quickly, “did you find her?”
Bill came up behind Dusty, and shook his head. “Nope. No sign of her.”
Cora’s hand flew to her mouth. Genevieve walked into the room with paper and pencils. Will trotted beside her, chattering away in his happy, high-pitched voice.
“Pa!” he cried when he spotted Bill, and ran to his father who swept him up into his arms and kissed him on the cheek lovingly.
“Will, Pa has to go out for a while to bring Ma home. You’ll have to be a brave man for me while I’m gone. Can ya do that, son?”
Will nodded his head with a serious expression on his pudgy face. He kissed Bill quickly on the cheek, and Bill set him down on the floor beside the paper and pencils Genevieve had laid out for him.
“You’re going?” asked Genevieve. “Does Tom know? I think he’s still out in the southern paddock searching for Sarah.”
“We’ll let him know on our way out. Dusty found some hoof prints down by the river — we think she was taken by a native. One of ‘er own, a man by the name of Bow Bearer. He came by our cottage a few weeks ago, an’ told her he wanted her to come back to the camp with him, and be his wife.”
Genevieve gasped. “Why didn’t she say anything? If we’d known that I would never have let her go outside like that on her own.”
“She didn’t want anyone to worry. I shouldn’t have listened to her, but she convinced me he wasn’t a threat. I regret that now, of course, but at least I know she’s safe. It’s somethin’ of a relief to me, actually. He loves her, he told her that — so I don’t believe he’d harm her in any way. I only hope he’s taken her to be with her kin, then I know she’ll be well taken care of.”
Bill rubbed a hand over his face.
“I hope you’re right,” said Genevieve, her voice catching in her throat.
“Only, I’m not sure how we’ll get her back. We can’t exactly just waltz into the camp and steal her away. The place’ll be crawling with braves. Even so, we’ve got to try. I’ve got to try. So, we’re heading south to find their village. We don’t know exactly where they’ll be, but Dusty here thinks he can track them, so he’s coming too.”
Cora’s heart skipped a beat. Dusty had only just returned from chasing thieves, and now he was about to ride off into the distance on another dangerous quest. Here they were betrothed, and they’d had no chance to spend a moment alone together.
Genevieve and Cora walked out with Bill and Dusty as Hannah hurried to the kitchen to throw together a sackful of sandwiches and water canteens for them to take along on the ride. Outside, Vacquero sat waiting on his buckskin mare. He tipped his hat at them, and chewed a piece of straw that poked out between his lips.
“I’m comin’ too,” he said.
“They might need ya here,” said Bill.
“I ain’t gonna let ya lose ya family. I’m comin’.” Vacquero pushed his hat down firmly on his head, as if to say he considered the matter closed.
Bill nodded. “Thank ya, Vacquero. I ‘ppreciate it.”
Hannah rushed out with sack lunches for the three men. “I saw ya through the window,” she said as she handed Vacquero a sack, “and I says to meself, ‘Vacquero’s gonna be a goin’ with ‘em too no doubt,’ so I made you a packed lunch as well. Now y’all stay safe.”
The men thanked her, and Dusty quickly kissed Cora on the cheek and whispered goodbye in her ear. A thrill ran through her body at his touch, and she waved to him as he climbed onto the back of the tall black gelding he’d chosen for the journey.
The men set off, heading for the river, towing an extra horse for Sarah to ride on their return journey. The women returned to the house where Will still sat drawing squiggles and shapes on a piece of paper. Cora slumped down on the settee, and picked up her crochet needles. She sighed. She didn’t have the heart to keep working. She could barely think straight. All she could think to do was pray — so that’s what she did.
***
Sarah groaned, and her head rolled back and forth as another wave of pain spread through her body. Ky knelt beside her, in the wikiup made of bison hides strung together around a frame of thin timber stakes. A fire cracked and sparked in the center of the room, and other women came and went, burning dried herbs, bringing bowls of water, and doing other things Sarah couldn’t see and didn’t have the inclination to follow.
She could think of nothing else but the pain. It subsided briefly, then hit her again in another wave. She wanted to cry, but every time she did the pain grew worse, so she sucked in a deep breath and pushed away the sobs that were lodged in her throat.
During the lull, she spoke to Ky. “I want Bill. Ky, please, can’t you get him. I want him here. I know he’d want to be here with me. You can talk to Bow Bearer, and he can send for him. Please, Ky.”
Ky shook her head, and wiped Sarah’s forehead with a damp cloth. “Sarah, Bill is too far away to get here in time. And anyway, Bow Bearer would never allow that. You need to focus, my friend. Focus on the baby, and getting through this. That’s all you can do.”
Sarah sobbed again, and then closed her eyes to breathe deep. She knew Ky was right. She’d done this before, and she knew if she didn’t focus on the labor and give it every ounce of energy she had. If she didn’t pull herself together — she wouldn’t get through this, and the baby might not make it. She might not either. She knew what she had to do — she had to put Bill, her son, Bow Bearer and everyone else out of her mind and devote all her energy, attention and emotion to the task at hand. She wasn’t going to let anything happen to her baby, not while she had strength left in her body to protect it. She closed her eyes and pushed.
Chapter Eight
Dusty, Bill and Vacquero stopped at the Drotherton ranch, their nearest neighbors, to ask Frank Drotherton if he’d seen or heard anything the night Sarah went missing. Frank insisted on coming with them, and so now they were a party of four heading south out of Paradise Valley and east over the river.
Every now and then, Dusty would stop and dismount to examine the earth for signs of hoof prints or broken sticks. Once he found a clutch of brown hair caught in a low hanging branch. Another time he saw footsteps and hoof prints in a clearing where Sarah and Bow Bearer must have stopped to rest. Bill was relieved to see she was at least well and walking around, but he was becoming more and more anxious the further they got from the ranch.
He kept saying, “It’s so far for her to travel. A woman in her condition should be restin’ not traipsing about the countryside on horse back. It ain’t good for her.” And Dusty could hear the worry growing in his voice. He was concerned as well. Bill was right — Sarah must be feeling the stress of a journey of this length. He just hoped they’d be able to reach her befor
e the baby came — he hated to think what might happen if she was forced to give birth on the side of a cold, rocky trail in the foothills of the precipitous mountain range that loomed menacingly ahead of them.
Just then, they rounded a bend and a small, valley opened up before them nestled in between two mountains. Dusty immediately saw smoke spirals on the horizon and signaled to the other men who were riding behind him to take cover in the line of trees that fenced the clearing.
“Looks like we found the Crow camp,” said Bill, coming up beside him.
“Seems like,” said Dusty.
“What now?” asked Frank Drotherton, scratching his head beneath the black, ten-gallon hat he always wore.
“We can’t exactly just go and get her. We’re completely outgunned,” said Bill, his fingertips twisting his mustache beneath red-rimmed eyes.
Dusty squinted, trying to count how many teepees were there. He could see shapes moving about, but it was impossible to know for sure how many people there were.
“We’ll have to draw ‘em out,” said Dusty, stretching the kinks from his neck by leaning his head from side to side. It had been a long ride, and the sun was setting behind them in a display of pinks and oranges that lit up the peaks in golden hues and threw the valley into a quick darkness. The night would be a cold one, and all but Hank had been riding furiously for several days now. First after the cattle thieves, and now in search of Sarah. They were exhausted, hungry and thirsty, and now had to face an entire camp full of Crow warriors on their home soil.
“We can’t possibly face off with ‘em, so we’ll have to sneak in. The only way to really do that is to get the men to come after us. If they see Bill and Frank coming into camp, they’ll think you’re alone — Bow Bearer will be lookin’ fer ya Bill. Then, when they all give chase ta ya, Vacquero ’n I will sneak on in and get Sarah. We’ll meet ya back on the banks of the river, an’ cross together. How does that sound to ya?”
Bill drew a deep breath and let out a long sigh. “I guess it sounds ‘bout as good as any plan would. Let’s do it ‘fore it’s so dark we won’t be able to see our hands in front of our faces.”
“Ya think ya can outrun ‘em?” asked Dusty.
“Our horses sure can outrun ‘em ponies, at least on flat ground, we’ll jest have to make sure they don’t get too close to begin with. We’ll lead ‘em in the other direction. I’ve been through this valley before, I know where it leads. I’ll take ‘em on down through it, then try to lose ‘em and double back. If Frank an’ I aren’t there, at the river, ya’ll just make sure Sarah gets home. I’ll leave Purdy with ya for her to ride. Now, don’t fret yourselves ‘bout us — we might just be a little later than planned, is all, you just keep on goin’’,” said Bill, fixing his hat firmly on his head with a determined look on his face. “Ya up for it?” he asked Frank.
“You bet,” said Frank with a grin.
The men all spent a few moments in prayer, and loaded up pistols, revolvers and rifles. Then Bill and Frank set off toward the camp, careful to keep to the edges of the valley where the trees were thickest. Dusty and Vacquero stayed hidden in the darkness of the woods, well out of sight, watching and waiting.
When Bill and Frank drew close to the camp, they heard a faint shout. The two men spurred their horses forward into a gallop, sticking to the tree line as they made their way past the camp and up the valley. Before long, several dozen warriors on colorful ponies were on their trail, whooping and hollering up a storm.
Dusty and Vacquero eased around the edges of the clearing toward the camp. It had gone quiet again. The camp was a large one, sprawling out along the base of the valley floor. Most of its occupants, the women and children, must have already retired for the evening, since the outdoor fires had burned low, and there was little movement to be seen. Slow lines of smoke wove skyward from the tops of the teepees, and the only sound was the occasional cry of a child, or murmur of voices from within.
As they drew close, Dusty could see several scouts keeping watch over the camp. He pointed them out to Vacquero who nodded an acknowledgement. How on earth would they find Sarah in the midst of this tent city? They couldn’t very well poke their heads through the doors of every teepee to look for her.
Just then, they heard the unmistakable sound of a newborn’s cry. Dusty knew the sound well, having grown up with a host of younger siblings. His eyes narrowed, and he tipped his head to one side listening. It seemed to be coming from a large teepee close by.
The two men tip-toed into the camp, dodging and ducking between the hide-covered structures, as they made their way toward the tent where the wail of the babe had become a caterwaul. There was no denying it, a newborn baby was very unhappy about something inside the walls of that particular tent, and Dusty was determined to get a peek inside. Several tall, wolf-like dogs rushed at them, sniffing around them, and growling low in their throats. The two men stood still. Dusty’s heart leapt to his throat. But the dogs soon lost interest in them, wandering off again through the camp. Dusty let out a long sigh of relief, and they continued on their way.
They reached the tent, and Vacquero turned his back to keep watch on the nearest scout who was presently occupied with trimming his toenails. Dusty peeled back one of the door flaps, and searched the darkened room with furtive eyes. A fire in the center of the room cast an eery glow, and lit up the entire room making it easier for him to see the outline of a woman. She was pacing around the fire, careful not to step on the sleeping forms of the tents’ other occupants. In her arms, a tiny baby screamed, its face red with the effort.
It was Sarah. Dusty was certain of it. She’d obviously had the baby already, and looked to be in good health. But how on earth could they sneak from the camp with a wee one making all that dad gam noise? Sarah looked up at the door with a start, and caught his eye. Her eyebrows arched in surprise, just as the baby in her arms let out a tiny belch. She slipped her finger into the baby’s mouth, and the child settled immediately, sucking eagerly on her finger with closed eyes.
Dusty released a quick breath, realizing for the first time that he’d been holding it while he stood there, uncertain of what to do. Sarah casually picked up a strange contraption and a bison hide from the floor by her feet and wandered toward him without a sound.
Once outside, under a canopy of twinkling stars, she and Dusty found Vacquero, and the three of them ducked low and scampered back to where the horses were tethered. Sarah silently squeezed the hands of each of the men, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she thanked them with a nod. She wrapped the baby in the bison hide, slipped it into the contraption and fixed it all to her back. Then, she mounted Purdy, patted him on the neck fondly, and set off in a westward direction. Dusty and Vacquero mounted up as well, and the three of them picked their way carefully back toward the river, and home.
Chapter Nine
1856, Montana Territory
Thirteen years earlier
Bow Bearer lay injured in the undergrowth beside a clear narrow river. He was thirteen years old, and mad as a prairie rattler. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself get thrown from his pony — he never lost his balance when riding, and yet here he was, on the one day that it truly mattered, injured and alone in the woods.
Chief Mutagaweer had taken him under his wing when his father died the previous year, and he was counting on him to undergo this rite with pride and honor. And now he wouldn’t even be able to complete it. In order to become a man, recognized by the rest of his tribe, he had to spend a full day and night alone in the woods, hunting. He had to bring back his kill, and then he’d go through the same ritual with the other thirteen year old boys that generations of Apsaalooke men had before him.
Instead of becoming a man, he was laying here, injured and unable to move. He might even die out here. The sun was close to setting, and his pony grazed down field. He couldn’t stand on his leg, it must have broken when he fell, and something inside his gut hurt badly as well. He grimaced, as his fi
ngers gently probed the area. It might only be a bruise, but he wasn’t sure.
He’d be the laughing stock of the whole camp. That’s if he lived to tell the tale. How would he even get back to camp? It was an hour’s ride from where he lay, and the pony Mutagaweer had given him to ride was stubbornly ignoring his calls.
He lay back with a grunt, then pushed himself toward the base of a juniper to rest against the trunk. Sitting up was painful, but at least he could see if an animal approached him.
A noise nearby caught his attention, and two ponies with sleek, tanned riders trotted into view. They stopped where his pony grazed, and dismounted to pat the animal. It was a woman and her young daughter. As the woman scanned the area in search of whoever had been riding the pony, he recognized them. The woman was Fala Songan, and her daughter Sarah trailed along behind, her wide green eyes taking everything in.
Fala saw him at the base of the tree trunk, and waved to him. He returned the wave despondently. Now it was certain — the entire tribe would know he’d failed the test. Not only was his father no longer around to see him become a man, even his memory would be tinged with dishonor because of Bow Bearer’s failure. Not to mention how disappointed Chief Mutagaweer would be with him. His head slumped to his chest, and his throat constricted as he considered the shame that was to come.
“Bow Bearer, are you well? What happened?” asked Fala, stooping beside him.
“I fell, my leg — I think it’s broken,” he said, glancing at the small girl’s curious face.
Fala ran her hand over his leg, and he cried out in pain.
“Yes, it looks broken. Wait here,” she said.
She found a piece of wood and some vine, and fixed a splint for his leg. Then, she ran off again, soon returning with a mixture of herbs ground up with a little water. She applied the herbs to his wounds, and cut a piece from her buckskin dress to wrap around his leg holding it all in place.