White Wind

by Susan Edwards

Mary gathered Sarah fiercely to her bosom for long moments before leading her back to the table. “We’ll think of something. But for now you are going to please an old woman and eat.”

  That evening, in Sarah’s own small cabin, the soft patter of rain dancing off the roof slowed, the spring shower nearly spent. She curled deep into a chair padded by thick fur scraps and covered with a patchwork of old material, as dusk gave way to inky darkness.

  She rose to add more wood to the red-orange embers in the hearth. All was quiet except for the occasional hiss or crackle as the embers burst into flames to eagerly lick the newly added logs.

  Returning to her chair, she pulled forth a small stool and rested her quilt-covered feet before her. The lantern bathed her in a gentle glow of light as the fire kept the cold at bay.

  Sarah stared into the hypnotic dancing flames, drowsiness claiming her as eyelids slowly lowered.

  Suddenly, the door to the tiny cabin flew open. With a startled cry, Sarah bolted upright, her head snapping toward the open doorway.

  A cold draft crept along the floor, sending shivers of dread down her spine as the door slammed shut. Eyes following the intruder, she watched the large man stumble across the room to stand before angry flickering flames that matched her wildly pounding heart.

  “Well…lookee what we have here. Sure haven’t seen much of you lately, cuz. Haven’t been avoidin’ me now, have you?” slurred a loud, caustic voice.

  “What do you want, Willy?” Sarah asked, carefully keeping her tone indifferent.

  Her freckle-covered nose wrinkled in distaste. The noxious, stale smell of alcohol came at her in waves, turning her stomach.

  “What’s a matter, sweets? Ain’t I good ’nough for you?” Willy sneered, eyes narrowing as he studied his ward’s cabin.

  Embroidered curtains hid closed wooden shutters, brightening the dark room. Steam rose from a blackened pot hanging over the fire, and bread lay on the table ready for the morning meal.

  Sarah sat in silence as her guardian paced the room, carelessly picking up objects and tossing them down. Her eyes watered as Willy picked up an old torn quilt made by her ma. It had been draped across bare wooden slats in an area under the loft where her pa had slept and died. That too was tossed to the floor.

  “Say—sweetie. Sure is cold out tonight,” Willy said.

  Silence.

  “Sure would be nice to share this here cozy place, seein’ how’s we’s family ’n’ all.”

  Sarah continued to ignore him, knowing how much he hated the silent treatment she reserved for him.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched his jaw clench and his face redden as she held her tongue.

  Willy cursed and turned to leave when it became evident he’d not receive an invitation to stay.

  At the door, he stopped, one shaky hand delving into his coat pocket to pull out a flask of home-brew. Taking a hefty swig, he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his grubby coat, then turned back to her abruptly.

  “Think anymore ’bout wha’ I asked ya last time?” Willy demanded.

  Sarah shrugged, masking revulsion with aloofness. “What’s to think over, Willy? I already told you I wouldn’t marry you.”

  “Damn! Ya thinks yer real smart-like, don’t ya?” he hissed, kicking the stool from beneath her feet as he returned to stand before her. “Think you’s too good for yer poor cousin Willy. Well ya best think again,” he warned as his big beefy hands landed on the arms of her chair.

  Sarah leaned back, turning her head to the side to avoid being nose-to-nose with his pockmarked face and sour breath. A small cry escaped her as rough fingers yanked her chin around.

  “Listen closely, dear cousin. I mean to have you,” he uttered menacingly, inches away from her face. Willy’s cold gray eyes narrowed to mere slits and he laughed without humor. “Whoever marries you gets John’s share of tha’ fur business and the money he stashed away for you. That person is gonna be me!”

  Sarah watched his gaze lower to her chest, and shuddered as his tongue snaked out to lick coarse lips as if in anticipation of a treat. A wave of nausea swept through her, and she crossed her arms protectively in front of her.

  She didn’t dare give in to fear, and desperately grasped at anger instead to give her the courage needed to stand up to Willy.

  “I won’t marry you, Willy, and you can’t make me, either.” Sarah breathed a sigh of relief as Willy straightened angrily and paced in front of her. Sarah met his rage-filled glare with a scornful look of her own.

  Inwardly, she trembled. Willy had never been so bold before. Sarah rose abruptly, intending to flee to the loft, expecting he’d slam out in anger and leave her alone for the time being.

  As soon as she placed her foot on the first rung of the ladder, Willy grabbed her arm, spun her about and shoved her hard against it.

  “Oh, no, you don’t. Yer not walkin’ out on me this time.” His eyes spewed hatred and venom as he tightened his hold on her arm.

  “You thinks about this, missy. You’ll be mine whether or not ya marries me. I’ll have you one way or ’nother!”

  Laughing, Willy narrowed lust-filled eyes and squinted at Sarah’s terror-stricken face.

  “Ya knows I can take what I want any time, dear girl. Would be wise for you to be nice to ol’ Willy. Ya know, be friendly like.” He took another swallow from the flask as he continued. “Yep. If you was a mite nicer ta me, maybe I would treat ya gentle like.”

  Sarah clenched her teeth against the pain from Willy’s biting fingers. Her heart thudded in panic. Willy’s eyes gleamed with lust, but it was his voice that frightened her most of all.

  His shouting, tantrums and whining she’d learned to shut out, but now his flat monotone chilled her to the soul.

  Sarah’s eyes widened, and she gulped. “You can’t—I won’t—”

  “I can. Ya will,” Willy informed her, his eyes hard and menacing. He noted Sarah’s rapid breathing. “I ain’t takin’ no for an answer, and don’t look to them ol’ folks to help you none. I haves it in me to gets rid of ’em if they turn innerferin’,” he warned, tightening his grip. “This here’s dangerous territory. Accidents happen out here.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Sarah gasped, shocked that he would threaten the lives of the two people she loved most.

  Willy’s lips curled in a self-satisfied sneer as he released her arm to take another gulp of the amber liquid.

  “I would, girl. Believe I would. Of course, Ben does all the work round here. No way am I doin’ all that back-breakin’ work. Course, before I do away with him, I’d hafta find a way to make Ben tell me where John hid your money. He seems mighty fond of Mary and you, though, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  Willy studied his ragged dirty nails and rubbed them on his shirtfront. “But if you marry me, the money will be mine, you’ll be mine and nobody gets hurt. It’s up to you.”

  “No!” she cried, closing her eyes against the fearful images. Sarah could only stare in frightened silence at the crazy man before her. Willy was dangerous, unbalanced, more so than any of them had thought. She had to get help. Slowly, she inched away.

  A hand slammed beside her head, effectively blocking her escape. Sarah froze and swallowed her fear. Hands held palm up, she appealed to him. “Look, Willy, it’s late. Why don’t we discuss this in the morning? You’ve had too much to drink and I’m tired. Tomorrow we can settle this.”

  Sarah was determined that starting tomorrow she would have Mary and Ben move into this cabin, or she’d move in with them. And she would keep Pa’s rifle at her side at all times.

  “I ain’t drunk. Yet.”

  Sarah’s eyes followed his, and she gulped when she saw the bulge growing under his breeches.

  “We’s gonna settle this tonight. One way or ’nother.” Willy grinned, suddenly confident.

  “What do ya think would happen if the soldiers and trappers found out you’re a…half-breed?” he asked smugly.

  Sarah’s hands
flew to her throat, her eyes widened and she shook her head. “How do you know about that?” she whispered hoarsely. “No one knows.”

  With the rising feuds between whites and Indians, she would be regarded as a “breed” or “squaw” by most. She would lose the respect her father had worked so hard to secure for her, which was why it was a closely guarded secret. Who would think with her blond hair and blue eyes that one of her parents was an Indian?

  The liquor began to loosen Willy’s tongue even as it slurred his speech. “The good, trusting ’n’ loyal friends of John will all find out tha’ he married a redskin’s pregnant whore. Worse ’n’ that, they’ll find out he’s lived his life a lie, that they have the seed of a savage in their midst,” he gloated.

  Willy flung his hands out and shook his head in mock sympathy. “Why, with all tha’ raidin’ ’n’ killin’ and bad feeling’s startin’ to build, I just don’t see how yer gonna be able to survive out here unless it’s as someone’s whore.”

  “But… How did you find out?” Sarah stammered. Only Ben and Mary knew of her heritage, and surely they of all people wouldn’t have said anything to him.

  Willy sneered triumphantly. “Dear John couldn’t keep secrets from me, ya know. He and I were such ‘buddies’ as we was growing up.” Shaking his head slowly back and forth, an evil glint deep in his eyes, he continued. “Some of them secrets came in mighty handy in those days.”

  He shifted his wild-eyed gaze back to Sarah. “Though I’ll hafta hand it to him, he sure kept this secret for a long time.”

  Willy smiled a fiendishly toothy smile. “And like so many of his secrets, this one will be very useful to me, won’t it, my sweet?” he said hatefully, running a calloused finger down her soft pale cheek.

  “Why are you doing this to me? Why do you hate me so much?” Sarah cried out, flinching from his touch.

  Chapter Two

  Sarah lay on the hard cold floor, her bruised and aching body huddled in a tight ball. The fire had died to glowing embers long ago, but she’d been unable to summon the energy to move, except to reach for the quilt Willy had tossed to the floor earlier.

  Her eyes closed, seeking the comfort of sleep, but it was no good. The reasons for Willy’s hatred played over and over in her numbed mind. Though he was no longer in the room to torment her, his voice continued to echo in her mind.

  “Emily should’ve been mine! She belonged to me!” Willy had shouted, grabbing handfuls of Sarah’s flaxen hair.

  His wild gaze had fallen on the pale strands clenched in his fist. His voice had softened, bloodshot eyes glazed as he reminisced. “She was an angel. My angel. Beautiful and pure. She belonged to me,” he’d whispered.

  Sarah shivered as she remembered how quickly his eyes had cleared and filled with fury and then how she’d found herself stumbling across the room as Willy paced before her.

  “Emily loved a filthy redskin. Spent the summer livin’ as his squaw. All this time, I’d thought John had gotten Emily in the family way.”

  Eyes bulging in a face turned purple with rage, he’d lurched toward the door. “I’ll get my revenge on you, you good-fer-nothin’ squaw. I’m leavin’. Gonna find me a preacher man. When I gets back ya marry me or…”

  Sarah moaned and slid into the welcome arms of darkness.

  The setting sun sent its flame-hued rays darting across the darkening sky, giving the rolling land below one last burst of color in glorious displays of pink, blue and yellow. The lone rider slowly brought his mount to a halt. Pride swelled within his chest as he surveyed the beauty of his people’s land.

  What could be more soothing to a weary soul than the beauty presented when the sun sank below the horizon to allow darkness its turn to rule?

  Golden Eagle offered a prayer of thanks for the earth below him, the air he breathed and the food that nourished him. He filled his lungs with fresh air, and then horse and man moved as one, appreciating the quiet ending to a successful hunt.

  Entering a sheltering belt of tall cottonwoods, Golden Eagle wound his way through thick furrowed trunks as cottony seeds drifted from greenish flowers hanging overhead.

  Stopping along the edge of the winter camp, Golden Eagle paused and silently observed the activities of family and friends in his tiyospaye or clan. They were the largest of all the Miniconjou tribes, with over twenty conjugal families.

  Dismounting by the stream where a small herd of ponies grazed peacefully, he turned his prized stallion over to the care of a young brave guarding the herd and heaved the results of his hunting trip over broad shoulders.

  “Golden Eagle has returned,” he announced formally, presenting the results of his hunt to his mother.

  “It is good that the son of Chief Hawk Eyes returned. The spirits have kept watch on you this day, my son,” Seeing Eyes replied formally as she accepted the rabbits and prairie chickens. She bent down to examine the fur and feathers that would be made into clothing, decorations and other necessities.

  “You have provided well, my son. The tipi of Hawk Eyes will have fresh meat tonight. Golden Eagle is a great hunter,” she declared, running her fingers through the soft rabbit fur.

  Nodding his head in acknowledgment, Golden Eagle accepted her praise as his due. Kneeling, he selected a fine thick-furred rabbit and a fat prairie chicken and looked to the woman who had borne him. No words were necessary between them as he met his mother’s nod of approval.

  With valuable meat and fur dangling from each hand, he strode to the tipi of an old widowed woman whose husband had been his great-uncle.

  Chief Hawk Eyes watched the exchange between mother and son, and then came to stand behind his wife. His strong fingers closed over her hunched shoulders, massaging joints he knew would be tired and aching. Her moans of pleasure told him that, as always, she’d worked hard this day.

  Together they watched their son present the gift of food to Morning Grass. He smiled when he noticed tears of pride garnering in his wife’s earth-brown eyes.

  Seeing Eyes leaned against her husband’s warm solid chest, her eyes moving upward to the loving face of her husband. “Our son is kind, caring and sensitive to the needs of others around him.”

  Hawk Eyes returned his wife’s loving gaze. “Golden Eagle has grown into a fine warrior, wife. He will make a good leader when his time comes. He will provide well for his family and tribe,” Hawk Eyes stated as he too observed his son taking time at the end of a tiring day to talk to a lonely old woman.

  “Wild-Flower will be well provided for with our son as her mate,” he added, nodding his head in satisfaction.

  Hawk Eyes felt his wife stiffen at the mention of their son’s future wife. He stepped around her, his fingers cupping her face, lifting her gaze to his.

  “Our son will be happy, wife. The joining of the two tribes is meant to be. I know this to be true. I could choose no better woman to become our daughter than Wild-Flower. He will grow to love her in time.”

  His eyes narrowed when his wife looked away, unable to face him with her doubts. For the first time since his pledge to merge the two tribes. Hawk Eyes allowed himself to consider that perhaps he was doing an injustice to his son. Golden Eagle was not happy and his restlessness was becoming more apparent each day.

  Closing amber eyes, Hawk Eyes silently contemplated this indecision he felt. Surely the past five years of peace and the peace of the future were important matters to consider. As future chief, Golden Eagle would have a strong ally in Chief White Cloud. Also, White Cloud’s allies would become theirs as well. Wasn’t all this to help his son when the time came for him to guide their people and keep them safe?

  The two tribes had been at war for many years. Long ago a marriage pledge between Hawk Eyes’s mother and White Cloud’s father had been agreed upon to strengthen and give new blood to the tribes. But before the ceremony could take place, White Cloud’s father had fled with a white missionary woman he’d captured, one with yellow hair and blue eyes.

  His mother’
s relatives had finally wreaked their revenge by slaying the warrior and his white wife when they returned several years later, but had not known about their young son, who’d shown no signs of the white blood is his veins. Since then there had been countless raids and warring between the two tribes.

  The tribes recognized the need to right the wrongs of the past. The two families must be united by marriage as they should have been in the past. Therefore, it had been decided that the eldest son of Hawk Eyes would take as wife the eldest daughter of White Cloud.

  Surely his son would find happiness with Wild-Flower. After all, he reasoned to himself, she was strong and healthy and would bear him many strong sons and daughters. She was well mannered and intelligent

  Yes, she would be good for his son’s tipi and tribe. Love would come as it had to him and Seeing Eyes. Golden Eagle should be proud to mate with her, he finally decided. All would work out. It had to. To back out now would most certainly mean war again.

  “It will be so,” he insisted with depth and authority.

  Looking into the glowing amber eyes that gave her husband his well-known name, taking in the fiercely proud angle of his head and stern lips, Seeing Eyes closed her eyes, as though to hide her thoughts.

  Hawk Eyes embraced his wife, his arms slipping around her plump middle. Fingering long braids that still held the color of night, Hawk Eyes leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Perhaps my wife would care for a walk along the river tonight?” He planted a gentle kiss on the side of her neck and moved his hips against her in a manner that left no doubt as to his needs.

  Seeing Eyes turned in Hawk Eyes’s embrace, looped her arms around his neck and looked over her shoulder at her son one last time before turning to her husband’s gaze.

  Her eyes darkened with desire as she looked into smoldering hooded eyes. She cupped her husband’s strong chin in her small work-roughened hands, and her fingers gently traced his firm lips as she replied slyly, “Must one wait for a walk after dark, my most desirable husband?”