by Kat Flannery
“Was Red Swallow your wife?” she whispered.
“She chose Kangi as her husband.”
“Did you love her?”
“I did.”
“How did Red Swallow die?” she asked.
“She drowned.” He remembered the day that was burned into his mind forever. Red Swallow had gone to wash in the river. When she did not return hours later, they’d set out to find her. Hotah came upon her body washed up on the shore. He could not console his brother, the grief too much, and being selfish Hotah had not tried hard enough. He was too engulfed in his own despair to consider Kangi’s. Looking back, he wished he’d have done more.
“That is terrible. Water can be frightening if you cannot swim.”
“Red Swallow knew how to swim. She had been accosted and drowned by mountain men. We set out in search of the four men and killed them. Kangi never returned, leaving in the opposite direction, and I was left to care for his daughter, Kimimela. Months passed before my brother came back.” Hotah would never forget what he saw. The light in Kangi’s eyes gone, and in their wake a cold, heartless stare gave way to the blackness that covered his soul. It was shortly after that Hotah had to disown him.
The sound of an owl called through the forest, and he tugged on Ivy’s arm to stop her.
“What is it?” she asked.
He surveyed the rolling hills and the forest. The owl hooted again. The sound came from within the trees. Hotah handed Ivy the baby and reached for his bow and an arrow.
“Hotah, what is wrong?”
“Someone watches us.”
“How do you know?”
“Owls sleep during the day.”
She shimmied closer to him.
“Roughly sixteen paces ahead there is a cluster of bushes, if I tell you to run, go there.”
She nodded.
Hotah saw movement deep within the cover of trees. He positioned his bow and took aim.
“Leksi?” a small voice called. “Leksi, is that you?”
Kimimela? Hotah raced toward his niece. The trees thick, branches slapped his face, scraping his cheeks and arms.
“Leksi!” she shouted, jumping down from his horse, Kola, and ran toward him.
He knelt down to greet her hug.
“It is good to see you,” she said while squeezing her arms around his neck.
Hotah placed her in front of him. Her large brown eyes reflected the relief she felt. She’d lost weight, the roundness in her cheeks smaller, and Hotah clenched his jaw.
“Why have you come?” he asked.
“I needed to warn you, Leksi.” Her youthful face grew serious.
“Warn me of what?”
“General Davis, he…he…”
“Sit.” He could see she was unsettled, nervous, and scared. They sat across from each other, and he took her small hand in his own. He heard Ivy approach from behind, and Kimimela’s eyes widened at the sight of the woman and child.
“Hotah?” Ivy called.
“Four paces ahead of you,” he replied.
She walked the distance he’d told her to, when her hand fell upon his shoulder before she knelt beside him.
“Who is this?” she asked. Hotah assumed she could see Kimimela’s form.
“My niece, Kimimela.”
Ivy turned toward the girl. “What a beautiful name.”
The girl smiled. “It means butterfly.”
“This is Chaska. We found him yesterday.” Ivy positioned the boy to sit on her lap.
Kimimela glanced at Hotah before she reached out her hand to graze the child’s pudgy fingers.
“What is wrong with your eyes?” The girl asked.
“Kimimela,” Hotah growled.
“I am blind,” Ivy answered.
“Tell me why you’ve come,” he asked.
“Two mornings after you left, I passed by the window of General Davis’s office. One of the officers was not pleased you were allowed to leave the land.”
“Go on.”
“General Davis assured the man you would not be returning.”
“You are sure he said this?”
Kimimela nodded. “Leksi?”
“Speak the rest.”
“My ate hunts you also.”
“How do you know this?”
“General said so to the man.”
“Kangi has made this deal with Davis?”
“Yes.”
Hotah sat upright. His vision clouded, and pulse elevated. He clenched his hands into tight balls until they ached. The betrayal he’d been dealt lay heavy in his stomach, and a bitter taste filled his mouth.
“And what of the Paha Sapa?” He was afraid to ask, but as their leader he needed to know if they were safe.
Kimimela’s brown eyes darkened, and she stared at the ground.
“There are only a few left. General Davis has moved them to different lands.”
“Ina?” He leaned forward, preparing himself for what she’d say.
“She remains…but, Leksi, she is not well.”
He knew this day would come and hoped the old woman might hold on a few more winters. Hotah kept his composure while his mind raced at all Kimimela had told him. The general had deceived him—spoken lies—and now he plucked his people away from all they knew and put them on foreign lands. Hotah had been trouble for the general. The arrogant cavalry man felt threatened by his relationship with Colonel Black and planned to get rid of him. To use his brother as the bait had been a perfect plan, and Hotah had fallen for it.
He hung his head. He was a fool. Because of his actions, the Paha Sapa had suffered. His blood heated. The general would die for all he’d done. He curved his back, to ease the cramp in his chest. He glanced at Ivy and the baby. Time was not on his side. They’d need to move quickly. Manchester was still a full night and day’s ride away, and Hotah needed to prepare himself to fight…and to kill.
“Are you saying this general wants to kill Hotah?” Ivy asked Kimimela.
“Yes, this is so.”
“But why? He is supposed to be on their side.”
“There is only one side when it comes to the Paha Sapa and the wasichu,” Hotah growled.
“What will you do?” she asked. The concern she showed for him tugged at his soul.
Hotah would protect her, Chaska, and Kimimela with his life, and it seemed Wankan Tanka might bring him home sooner than he thought.
Ivy and Kimimela stood near the forest wall as Chaska wailed in her arms. She bounced the infant, but his cries did not cease. He was hungry, and they were desperate to feed him. Hotah had decided to take Kola and search for a homestead he could get some goats or cows milk from.
He’d been gone nearly two hours, and Ivy was beginning to worry.
“He will be back,” the girl said into the darkness, but her words did not ease Ivy’s concern.
“He has been gone a long time,” she said.
“Leksi will come.”
“How can you be so sure? What if something happened to him?”
“Makawee, Leksi has always provided for me and the Paha Sapa. He has never let us down, even going hungry himself so we may eat.”
Ivy had seen bits and pieces of how kind Hotah could be, but she never imagined him to put his own life at risk for those of his tribes. Kimimela loved her uncle—her pride in him showed with every word she spoke.
Chaska was crying so hard now, Ivy didn’t know what to do. He threw his small body backward almost out of her arms and she lunged forward to catch him.
“He is hungry,” Kimimela said.
“Shush, baby…” Ivy bounced, patted, and rocked the child, but nothing seemed to work.
She hadn’t heard the sound of horse’s hooves, so when Hotah came through the trees she jumped.
Kimimela giggled.
“Thank goodness. Did you find anything?” Ivy asked.
“I did!” Hotah dismounted, opened his saddlebags, and pulled out a glass bottle of milk.
“Thank
goodness!”
“The bottle has been corked…and you will need to feed him carefully as the opening is quite wide,” he said.
She heard the pop of the cork as he pulled it from the bottle.
“I… I’m not sure I should be the one to feed him,” Ivy said.
“Why not?” Hotah asked.
“Well, I…” She wanted so badly to do this, but did not want to waste the milk or drown the baby by dumping the liquid down his throat.
“I will help you.” He placed the bottle within her hand and gently guided it to Chaska’s lips.
“You will need to make small movements. When you hear him sucking air, tip the bottle.”
Ivy nodded.
The baby nestled within the crook of her arm, content now to be eating.
“Poor darling was famished,” Ivy said, kissing the infant’s head.
Hotah’s hand still covered her own, and she felt him tip it upward a hair when Chaska’s lips smacked together.
“Do you hear it?” he asked.
Ivy nodded. “How many bottles did you get?”
“Three.”
“How kind of the homesteaders to give you so much.”
“They did not give it to me.”
“How did you…?” Ivy’s eyes widened. “You stole it?”
“I did.”
“But why? Surely they would’ve helped you.”
He grunted.
“Leksi was right to steal the milk, Makawee,” Kimimela said.
Ivy did not understand.
“He’d have risked his life if he had asked,” she added.
“Over some milk? That is absurd.”
“Not milk, but because of who I am,” Hotah said.
Ivy sucked in a breath. What he said was true. When they first met she’d cast her judgment upon him because he was Indian. She’d quickly seen how he was not like her captor and apologized, but not everyone was as forgiving as she was. The homesteaders would see him only as hostile.
“I am glad you stole it then,” Ivy said.
Hotah grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Chaska sleeps,” he said taking the bottle from Ivy.
“Oh, I…” She hung her head, embarrassed.
“Each time will be more familiar than the last,” he said.
She didn’t trust herself to reply for fear he’d hear the crack in her voice.
“Come—it is time to go.” He took Chaska from her arms, and led her to Kola.
She mounted with ease before he handed the baby to her.
Ivy sat with the girl on top of the white horse. The animal was magnificent. Even though she could not see much of him, the smooth coat and strength she felt beneath her palm was enough of an indication of his beauty.
Hotah hadn’t spoken much since they left the spot where they met Kimimela, and she knew he struggled with all he’d been told.
Regret kicked her in the side—it was time to tell him the truth.
“I reside in Manchester,” she blurted.
“I know this.” He walked alongside them.
“How?”
“You are not a good liar.”
She bristled.
“Leksi is wise,” Kimimela said.
“That is clear,” Ivy replied. “You are very brave to have traveled alone to find your uncle.” She was thankful the girl had made the journey safely. She was smart enough to bring food, water, and a shotgun she’d stolen from one of the soldiers before she left the reserved land. Ivy was enamored at how bright Kimimela was for only ten years old.
“I have been taught well,” the girl said.
Ivy could see her face when she turned to look at her uncle. Her skin was smooth, a golden bronze with a hint of pink on her cheeks. Long black hair braided on either side of her head hung down her back. Her mother must’ve been beautiful, and Ivy couldn’t help the resentment she felt toward Red Swallow and the love Hotah had for her.
“You make your leksi proud,” he said.
“When was the last time you saw your father?” Ivy asked, curious at how Kangi had turned so evil.
“Kimimela was five winters old when I cast Kangi from the Paha Sapa,” Hotah answered for her.
“Why did he not take her?”
“I would not allow him.”
“He did not try to steal her?”
“Kangi knew my warriors would kill him if he tried.”
She was beginning to see how much Hotah had cared for the child and wondered if he kept her from Kangi because the brother was crazy or because the child reminded him of Red Swallow.
How could Ivy ever compare to the woman? When he’d spoken of his sister in-law she could hear the anguish in his voice, the longing of what might have been. She lifted her chin, forcing the tears back. She cared deeply for Hotah, but nothing would ever come of them. Regret so intense cut into her sides to ravage the hope there. Her heart ached; the misery chased away any happiness she’d had. Gone were the dreams, replaced by the nightmare of who she’d become. Ivy cursed the blindness for taking away a life she was so desperate to have. For allowing her to experience a small moment of love, to be given a glimpse into what true happiness, contentment, and pride felt like, only to have it ripped from her so abruptly she felt as if she were suffocating.
The baby nestled his face deeper into her neck, and doubt crept its way into her mind. The child needed a mother who could care for him, watch out for him. She pressed her lips to the top of his head. How was she going to do that when she could not see? They’d take him from her, call her unfit, and Ivy would not be able to bear it.
Despair stabbed at her resolve. It took everything within her not to scream and shake her fist at the sky, but instead she remained voiceless, distancing herself from the last four days with Hotah and the child.
Chapter Eight
“Ivy.” Hotah shook her. “Wiwasteka, wake.”
It was the way he said her name, the urgency of it, that caused her heart to race. She scrambled to sit up. Something was wrong.
“Shush, quiet,” he whispered. “We have to go.”
“Why?”
“The general and his men are near.” He left her. She listened for his footsteps as they crushed the leaves on the ground and knew he was not far.
Ivy tried to remember the layout of the camp before she’d gone to bed. The fire, now out, was three feet in front of her. Kimimela slept to her right, and the baby was…where was the child? Panic doused her skin. She ran her hands across the ground, desperate to find Chaska. She hissed when her palm slid along something sharp and dug into her skin.
“Where is the child?” she asked into the darkness.
Kimimela was beside her in seconds, her small face an inch from Ivy’s. “I have him.”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“Come, Makawee, we must go.” The girl took Ivy’s hand and led her to the horse.
Hotah lifted her from behind, and Ivy let out a yelp, quickly clamping her hand over her mouth, just before he plopped her onto Kola’s back. Kimimela was already seated holding the child. She handed Chaska to her, grabbed the reins, and clicked her tongue. The horse stepped forward.
“Wait!”
“What is it, Makawee?” the girl asked.
“Hotah? We cannot leave him.”
“Leksi will catch up.” She slapped the reins, and the horse walked slowly through the forest.
“But how?”
“He will ride.”
“Ride what?”
“A horse.”
“How will he find a horse in the darkness?”
Kimimela giggled.
“You do not know him very well.”
No, she did not, but something told her not to doubt the child’s words. Hotah would find a horse, and he’d also find them.
Ivy squinted to try to make out their surroundings, but it was useless. The darkness had always been the worst for her to see—no colors or shapes formed before her. She decided to listen instead.
Ivy clos
ed her eyes, concentrating on the sounds around them: crickets, a night owl, and to the left a footstep? She tapped Kimimela on the shoulder and pointed to where she’d heard it.
The girl nodded right before she slammed her heels into Kola’s sides, and the horse took off. Branches slapped their arms and faces as Ivy tried to shield the baby and hang on at the same time.
A breathy whistle whizzed by her head, and she ducked lower into the child.
“Arrows,” Kimimela said. “Go, go, Kola!”
The horse darted around the trees; his hooves trampled the ground with such intensity, Ivy’s teeth rattled. Another arrow flew by, and the thud that followed Ivy assumed was the shaft sticking into the trunk of a tree. She hoped Hotah was okay and his injured leg wouldn’t prevent him from finding them. She hunched forward.
Ivy bit down hard on her bottom lip to keep from whimpering. Each step the horse took jarred her ribs. The baby let out a scream, jostled awake from his sleep, and scared, but there was nothing she could do to sooth his frantic cries. Branches struck her arms. She tried to shield the baby as best she could.
A man came out of the darkness to ride alongside them, the scent of stale body odor and rancid meat wafted toward her, and Ivy’s heart kicked in her chest. It was him! The man who had taken her.
“Go Kimimela!” she shouted.
The girl leaned forward urging the horse to go faster. Ivy held on as the animal weaved in and out of trees. She knew Kangi was close, she could hear him behind them.
Another arrow flew by and Ivy felt it graze her arm cutting open the skin.
“I’ve been hit!” she screamed pulling the baby closer.
“We cannot stop!” Kimimela shouted.
Ivy knew this, and squeezed her arm around Kimimela’s waist as the horse cantered through the forest before coming to an abrupt stop.
“What is it?” she asked.
“He is here. In front of us.”
Kangi must’ve cut through the trees and now blocked their way.
“Chunkshi,” the evil man said.
Kimimela did not answer.
Ivy heard his horse draw near.
The girl cried out as she was hauled from Kola’s back.
“Wait! No! Leave her alone!” Ivy pleaded. “Kimimela, are you okay?”
“I am here, Makawee. Upon his horse.” The girl’s voice was drawn, and Ivy knew she was scared.