He spoke to the man sitting by her feet, and the guard responded with a few quick syllables. The first man spouted off a long string, looking even more agitated than before. The Indian at her feet rose with a grunt, not looking much happier than the other brave.
He pulled a knife from the sheath at his waist and swung it down toward Hannah’s feet. She had to bite her jaw not to yelp and jerk her legs backward, but she couldn’t show weakness. She had to hold in her fear.
The blade hit the leather tie binding her ankles and sliced through the hide with barely a pause. A knife that sharp could pierce human flesh without a second’s delay.
One step brought the man to her side, where he grabbed her arm and jerked her to her feet. Her legs had gone numb, and she tried to lock her knees to keep herself upright. He was pulling her forward, though, and she stumbled along as he mostly dragged her.
They followed the first man out the tent opening. She turned for a final look at Nathaniel to see if his eyes were open, but she couldn’t see more than a quick glance. Yet that image seared itself in her mind. His face tight, his hands gathered in front of him, wrists tied. Nothing about him looked relaxed.
She knew the feeling exactly.
Her guard dragged her forward. and they passed several lodges of varying sizes, then wove between two onto another row of tipis. Finally, they turned toward one of the dwellings, and the man leading ducked inside. Her guard pushed her in next, his massive paw gripping her arm tight enough to stop the blood flow.
Inside, the place was dim and cloudy from smoke. A small fire sat in the middle, and several people moved about the area. Sobbing sounded to her left, drawing her focus to a woman sitting beside a pallet of furs.
Hannah was pushed that direction, and it only took a moment for her eyes to make out the image atop the hides.
Itu.
She dropped to her knees by the girl—with the help of a shove by her guard—and reached for the child’s hand. “Itu, my love. How are you?”
The girl opened her eyes a tiny bit, and when she saw Hannah, her mouth curved into a small smile. Heat emanated from her hand, and Hannah reached to feel her cheek.
A voice sounded beside her, and the tone made her pause with her hand in mid-air. The woman who’d been sobbing was now looking at her with a stern brow, saying something. She looked to be around Hannah’s age, or maybe a little older. Itu’s mother?
She clearly wasn’t happy with Hannah’s nearness, but Itu murmured something in a weak voice, and the woman motioned for Hannah to continue.
Had she been brought to help at Itu’s request then? That made sense, and it also eased a little of the pain in her heart. They still had much work to do to make the child better, but at least she would be allowed to help.
Tentatively, she reached again to feel the girl’s face. Burning with fever, as she’d suspected. The infection must be spreading through her body. They needed to fight it with every herb she’d brought.
This girl’s life still hung in the balance. And now Hannah and Nathaniel’s fate looked just as precarious.
Chapter Twenty-One
So helpless. I hate this impotence.
~ Nathaniel
Hannah turned to the adults gathered around her. “Where is the satchel that was tied to the horse?”
Only blank looks answered her. Did none of them understand English?
She cupped her hands in front of her like she was holding a basket by its base. “My things?” What else could she do to make her request clear? She turned back to the girl. “Do you want a drink, Itu? I need my herbs to make a tea.” She wasn’t sure how much the child had picked up from watching her each day in the cabin, but maybe she would understand and help interpret.
One of the men spoke something, then turned from the group and moved to another part of the lodge. Too many people blocked her view of what he was doing, but when he returned with Nathaniel’s saddle bags, she smiled. “Yes.” He didn’t have the satchel she’d tied on top, but maybe they’d stuffed it inside.
She reached for the pack and checked the contents of one side. Their blanket had been crammed inside, but everything else looked as she’d seen it last. She reached for the other flap. There, right on top, was the buckskin satchel she’d used to carry the herbs. Thank you, Lord.
Over the next few minutes and with many awkward hand motions to those around her, she managed to find and heat water over the fire to steep the teas.
Next, she needed to remove the girl’s soiled bandage and make a poultice to begin drawing the infection out. From the haphazard appearance of the filthy cloth, it looked as if the bandage had already been removed and reapplied at least once. As she worked to pull off the old wrap, she tucked herself over her work to keep the others from seeing the amputated limb. Not only would the sight and smell be gruesome if the infection was as bad as she suspected, but she was a bit nervous they’d be angry at the way the child had been permanently maimed.
Not that she and Nathaniel had had a choice in the matter. It had been a choice of losing the leg or losing her life, and every sweet smile from the girl made it clear her life was of much greater importance.
As she pulled the wrap away, an angry voice sounded just behind her. The girl’s mother, if Hannah wasn’t mistaken.
She didn’t acknowledge the words—not that she knew what the woman had said—just kept working to clean the stump. Although she couldn’t help but stiffen her spine, preparation for the blow from behind she feared would come.
No one struck her, thanks be to God, and she kept working, applying the poultice and wrapping everything up in the soft buckskin someone had brought her. The cloth bandage would be much better, but she’d need to wash the old one before it could be used again.
By the time she finished, the tea was ready, and she scooted beside Itu’s head to help her drink. “This will help you feel better.” She brushed the girl’s hair from her face, taking note of the coating of dirt that hadn’t been there two days ago. Her hair needed a good brushing, too.
She took her time helping the child drink, humming and talking as she usually did. Stroking her hair and her arm, anything she could find to soothe. Itu seemed barely awake at times, and beads of sweat rolled down her brow.
Hannah tore a patch from her skirt’s hem and soaked it in cool water to soothe the heat. Sometimes the teas appeared to make things worse just before they did their best work. Lord, let that be the case now.
Through everything, she couldn’t stop the fear that nipped at her mind. What of Nathaniel?
Could she get Itu to ask for him, too? Did she have enough sway with these people to ask herself? Probably not.
If Nathaniel was hurt as badly as his unconscious state seemed to indicate, he needed to be here, too, where she could tend him. Her heart ached at the thought of him suffering alone in that lodge, only a stoic guard watching his pain.
She had to try.
As Itu seemed to settle into a doze, Hannah turned back to the man who’d been guarding her. She pointed in what she hoped was the direction of the lodge where they were holding Nathaniel. “Can you bring the man?” She held her hand up beside her, palm down, as though she were measuring someone taller than her. Then she crossed her wrists in front of her the way they’d been when her hands were bound. “Bring the man.” She pointed to the ground beside Itu. “Here.”
If they understood her, it may be a miracle. But something must have made sense, for the man looked to one of the others and spoke a string of sounds.
Their words volleyed back and forth several times, and finally the man who she was fairly certain was Itu’s father bit out a harsh sound. The other brave turned to one of the youths near him and uttered a word. The lad turned and strode out of the tent. Was it too much to hope that he’d been sent to bring Nathaniel? If so, there sure had been a lot of discussion about it.
She sat quietly while she waited, either for Itu to awaken and need something, or for them to bring Nathaniel. Sh
e’d already set more tea to steep so she could have the girl drink when she awoke.
Itu’s mother still sat nearby, at the child’s head, and Hannah offered a friendly smile. The expression took effort through all her worries, but the other woman didn’t even seem to notice. Her focus was locked on the girl, and her lips moved as though she were praying.
Hannah knew nothing of their religion. In fact, she wasn’t quite certain which tribe these people were from. But prayer was her best option, too. Oh, God, be with us.
As she lifted up each of them to her Heavenly Father, the door flap on the lodge pulled aside, and the youth who’d left a few minutes before stepped in. Behind him came the most beautiful sight she’d seen in ages. “Nathaniel.”
His hair and clothes were rumpled, and his jaw was locked in a hard line.
The man beside him—his guard from the other lodge—had a rough hold on Nathaniel’s arm.
When he saw Hannah, his eyes ran over her, drinking her in. Maybe checking for injuries. For her part, she couldn’t take her eyes off his handsome face. She patted the ground beside her, but of course he had no power to choose where he would sit.
His captor brought him to stand by Itu’s feet, and Nathaniel’s eyes flicked to the girl. “Is she...?” It wasn’t hard to decipher the question he hated to ask.
“She’s alive.” She shifted her gaze to the girl’s sweat-glistening face. “Fighting a great infection, but I’ve given her everything I brought—teas and a poultice. She seems to be resting now. I hope her body’s strong enough to fight this.”
She looked back up at Nathaniel. He must be exhausted, and he had injuries of his own. A glance at his guard showed a face so stern, she wasn’t likely to get help there. Still, she pointed to Nathaniel, then patted the ground beside her. “He needs to sit.”
“Don’t worry about me, Hannah.” Nathaniel’s warning came just as the guard pushed Nathaniel into the spot with a downward shove. Nathaniel did well not to topple forward onto the sleeping girl, especially with his legs still bound. But he caught his balance and eased down to his knees.
She shouldn’t focus too much attention on him, for she was pretty sure the Indians had only allowed them this much freedom so they could tend Itu. So she kept her head facing toward the girl as she spoke softly to Nathaniel. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” His response was just as quiet.
“But you were unconscious for so long.” The last thing she needed was for him to play the hero when he really had an injury she needed to treat.
“Only for a minute. Then I was feigning sleep to see what they would do. When they took you away, I could have kicked myself for the act.”
She slid a glance at him, just enough to take in his features again and replenish the picture in her mind. She could never get enough of watching him. “I think Itu asked for us. That’s why they brought us in here.”
He shifted his focus to the girl. “I suppose that means I don’t need to worry about getting us away from here any time soon?” His words were so soft she could barely make them out.
She followed his gaze. “I’m here to help her. I can’t leave until God tells me different.” But she couldn’t help the dread that hung around her like a sodden quilt. What would her family do about her disappearance?
NATHANIEL COULDN’T do much to help Hannah or Itu, especially not with his hands and legs still tied. And the helplessness chafed more with each quarter hour. Especially with the anxious lines tugging at the corners of Hannah’s eyes the longer the day progressed.
How had he let them be taken off guard? Kidnapped and now held hostage against Itu’s life. For he had no doubt that if Itu didn’t pull through this fever, he and Hannah would not walk out of this camp alive. And he was fairly certain he wouldn’t get Hannah to leave until she was sure the girl was out of danger.
Would the Indians allow them to walk away when the girl was well? Or would he have to sneak them out?
Night settled outside the lodge, and they were finally given a small meal of pemmican and roasted meat. Enough to keep them alive, but not as much as even the women around the campfire ate.
It was clear the people resented him and Hannah. With a few of them, the emotion seemed closer to seething hatred. Especially the man who Nathanial was fairly certain was Itu’s father.
The woman who never left the girl’s head appeared to be the mother, and her occasional cajoling seemed to be the only thing that calmed the man. Nathaniel didn’t miss the way he watched Hannah, though. At times, his glare was so harsh, even from across the lodge, it was all Nathaniel could do to keep from confronting him.
Was this the stranger who’d been lurking around the cabin for so many days? The blackguard who’d killed his cow. The thought swelled fury in his chest, but he did his best to force it away.
For now.
They were given a single blanket to sleep with that night, and it appeared they were to stay by Itu’s side. A handful of other Indians bedded down in the lodge, with the venomous father lying in front of the door. There would be no escape this night, even if they wanted to.
The night was colder than the past two they’d spent on the trail, even though they were now inside the lodge with a fire burning in the center.
“We should both sleep under this.” Hannah unfolded the blanket, the rough wool kind he’d seen handed out at reservations. Were these people escaped from government land? That was certainly possible, as he’d chased down his fair share of runaway bands while in the cavalry. It was surprising none of these spoke English, though.
He nodded toward the group around them. “I suppose we have plenty of chaperones.” Then he raised his bound wrists with what he hoped was a humorous tone. “And you certainly have nothing to worry about with me trussed up.”
Her smile was so weary he almost couldn’t find the lightness in it. “I don’t ever worry about you.”
She shifted beside him and spread the blanket over their legs, then pulled it up to their shoulders as he lay down. When she was settled, they both lay on their backs, at least a hand’s breadth between them.
The steadiness of her breathing filled the air around them as he stared up into the darkness. How could she breathe so normally when his heart raced double-time and he had to push out each shallow exhale? Even lying in the midst of a strange Indian camp where they were despised and held captive, this woman affected him all the way to his core. And with their future so uncertain, everything within him wanted to tell her exactly how he felt. Maybe not the long-term plan, but at least he could speak of this burning ache in his chest.
“Hannah?” He kept his voice to a low whisper, just in case any of the others understood more English than they let on.
“Yes?”
“I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.” He wanted so badly to promise he’d not let anything hurt her, but he knew too much about what happened when there was bad blood between Indians and whites.
The blanket shifted, and her hand covered his bound ones. “I know you will. With both you and God here, I’m not afraid.”
Her trust raised a burn to his throat, and he fumbled to take her hand between his. “No matter what happens, I need you to know that I love you.” He didn’t breathe as his words settled between them.
Did she feel the same? He’d thought maybe she did, but this was probably too soon. She’d only known him a few weeks. How could she possibly develop such a deep sentiment? Especially if she’d lived as isolated a life as he suspected. She probably wanted to experience more before tying her affections to one man.
He, on the other hand, had spent more years experiencing life than he could stomach. He knew without a doubt she was the woman he’d been looking for all these years, both while in Virginia and traveling with the cavalry.
But now he’d spoken his feelings and put her on the spot. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away.
He scrambled for something to say to clarify things. “I don’t mean that y
ou have to feel the same way. I’m sure you probably don’t. Not yet. I mean...” He was making a muddle of this. Inhaling a deep breath, he tried once more. “I just wanted to say it, in case anything... You know, in case I don’t have a chance again.”
“Oh, Nathaniel.” She let out a sigh. That couldn’t be good, could it? But then she scooted closer, and the weight of her head rested on his shoulder. “I hoped one day to feel this way about a man. It seems almost too good to be true.”
Her words should fill him with satisfaction—and they did. But he couldn’t help being sidetracked by the irony in her last statement. “Too good to be true that we’re being held captive in an Indian camp?”
Her cheek nestled deeper into his shoulder. “I’d rather be held captive with you than free with anyone else.”
He couldn’t help a chuckle, despite their circumstances. “Me, too, Miss Grant. Me, too.” He stroked his thumb over her hand that was still tucked between his. But the longer he pondered her words, the more reality sank over him.
God, I don’t deserve this woman. Show me how to protect her. How to love her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lord, have You brought me to this place for such a time as this? Use me for Your plan.
~ Hannah
Hannah awoke to the sound of quiet crying.
She sat upright, turning to look at Itu in the faint light from the fading fire. The small figure still lay there, barely raising the thin blanket Hannah had pulled over her the last time she’d given her tea in the night. A figure knelt beside the girl, bent over. Keening. The crying must be coming from Itu’s mother.
Had the girl passed in the night?
Hannah’s stomach knotted as she scrambled toward them, slowed by her ankles that had been bound again. She wanted to ask if Itu still breathed, but the woman wouldn’t understand her words, and speaking would only wake the others.
She reached the child and pressed a hand to her cheek. Heat still emanated from her skin, and steady, raspy breaths drifted through her lips. Much the same as when Hannah had seen her last.
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