Wild-Flower knelt, gently picked up each hoof and covered it with squares of rawhide. Standing, she picked up a coiled length of rawhide rope made from cutting the hide of a buffalo in a spiral from outside to center. She formed a lead and led the horse away from the village. As she kept to the shadows, the well-trained horse she’d named Flying Dove quietly followed her beloved mistress.
Stopping only to pick up some supplies hidden deep in a hollowed tree, Wild-Flower mounted. Horse and rider trotted off, slowly at first, increasing their pace as they felt safe to do so.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Wild-Flower refrained from voicing her elation over her success in getting away from her father. Keeping Flying Dove to a slow, controlled pace, she thought over her plan once again. A twig snapped under the hooves, bringing Wild-Flower back to the task at hand.
Giving all her attention to picking her way through trees and bushes, Wild-Flower watched and avoided breaking branches. She did not want to leave an obvious trail.
She guided her horse and watched the trail she’d chosen in front of her. The horse’s hooves encased in rawhide helped cover any prints left behind and muffle any noises.
Her father would be furious, but she could not marry Golden Eagle when her heart belonged to another. Since her confrontation with White Cloud, they had not spoken. Even her mother had shown her silent displeasure. She had spent all of yesterday making her preparations. And last night she’d simply announced to her mother that her monthly was upon her and gone off to the women’s lodge.
As she’d known from checking earlier, the lodge was empty. Her plan was so simple. Away from her family, it would be easy to sneak out of the village, go to Red Fox and convince him to elope with her. They only had to stay away a few weeks.
And as had happened to her grandfather, when she and Red Fox returned, both tribes would consider them married. It was something that didn’t often happen, but Wild-Flower was desperate. Surely, this time there would be no bloodshed. Golden Eagle wouldn’t allow it. With her out of the way, Golden Eagle and Sarah would then be free to join.
She and Golden Eagle would then convince her father and Chief Hawk Eyes that marriage between their families was not necessary.
Keeping an eye open for possible dangers, Wild-Flower shoved thoughts of Red Fox aside. She needed to stay alert. It would not do for her to come upon an enemy camp unexpectedly.
When the sun showed its face, Wild-Flower, now tired and exhausted, increased her pace. Already she had many hours’ head start, but dared not stop yet. During the long day, she stopped only to feed and water her horse. She ate little herself as she was anxious to get as far as she could before the sun lowered.
When nightfall came, Wild-Flower stopped. Unloading her few possessions, she cared for Flying Dove, then took her mat and threw it to the hard ground. Sitting with some dried meat, Wild-Flower ate hungrily. Tonight she would rest. She should reach Red Fox’s tribe by evening tomorrow. She knew from years of visits approximately where they would be at this time. Each year a tribe moved in the same basic pattern unless nature or the white man intervened.
Wild-Flower rolled out her mat and decided to rest for a few hours, her mind dreamily focused on Red Fox. What was he doing? Closing her eyes, she wished he was there beside her. She remembered the few short hours spent in his loving arms. Sighing, she turned on her side, weariness bringing sleep.
It was early evening of her second night when Wild-Flower arrived near Golden Eagle’s village. She hid her horse high in the hills, finding a cave with a wide mouth that would accommodate both of them until she was able to let Red Fox know of her presence. Stealthily, she made her way down the canyon, toward the neatly laid-out tipis.
Concealing herself, Wild-Flower sat and watched the activities from a distance, but grew worried as there seemed to be no sign of Red Fox or Golden Eagle. She silently groaned in frustration as she realized that many were missing. Her sharp gaze fell on the results of the buffalo hunt and she had her answer. She buried her head in her hands. “Oh, Red Fox, you can’t be on a buffalo hunt,” she sighed aloud. She knew too well how long he could be away if that was the case. Lifting her head, she carefully studied the small group of warriors sitting around a large fire. When Chief Hawk Eyes joined them, hope rose in her heart that the others would return soon. It would not take long for her father to reach the village.
Walking to the cave, Wild-Flower prepared to bed down. Tonight, she’d sleep and rise early to watch for her love’s return. She would also have to find another secure place in case her father showed up tomorrow.
Lying on their backs, heads pillowed by their hands, Golden Eagle and Red Fox bedded down under the same canopy of stars. The buffalo had fled, but not until the skilled warriors had taken down two huge males. The last of the dried meat had been packed and they had traveled since dawn that day. Tomorrow, they would rejoin their friends and family. Most of the hunting party had returned with the chief several days ago.
Watching the twinkling sky above him, Golden Eagle found himself eager to return to White Wind. He still found it incredible to believe that he would soon become a father. His fingers twitched. He was eager to feel his child grow and kick from within White Wind’s womb.
Glancing sideways, he noticed Red Fox was still awake. So far, his friend had not made mention of his feelings toward Wild-Flower. He decided to test the waters. “It was a successful hunt, my friend. You shall have a nice warm robe for the winter months this year,” Golden Eagle said in praise.
Red Fox turned his bead to Golden Eagle. “The spirits were with me when I shot my arrows,” he commented, his voice laced with pride. When the women cut into the fallen buffalo, they first removed the arrow that had killed the beast so all would know who had made the brave kill.
“Red Fox will have many hides to give to his wife when he marries,” Golden Eagle stated innocently.
Red Fox grunted. “I have no use for another hide. I shall give it away.”
“It would make a fine winter robe for Wild-Flower, would it not?” Golden Eagle asked, peering through the darkness. He watched Red Fox take the bait and bolt upright with indignation, his mouth opening before he closed it and remained silent.
Golden Eagle also sat and spoke quietly, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb others sleeping nearby. His friend’s reaction was all he needed to confirm his suspicions. “Wild-Flower and I will not marry, Red Fox. Golden Eagle takes as mate the one meant to be his soul mate. He shall marry White Wind.”
Red Fox stared dumbfounded. “What of your father and Chief White Cloud. Have they agreed to this?” His voice quivered with suppressed eagerness.
Golden Eagle noticed the spark of interest creep into Red Fox’s voice despite his casual question. Cocking his head, Golden Eagle confided, “Wild-Flower and I talked before she left to return to her village. It seems she has also given her heart to another. We both agreed that it would not be right for us to marry.”
Golden Eagle tipped his head to the side. “I think that warrior is you, Red Fox. Is it not?”
Red Fox straightened and met Golden Eagle’s knowing gaze. Warrior to warrior, only one secret stood between them. Golden Eagle leaned forward and announced, “White Wind carries my child. Soon I will be a father, Red Fox.”
Expecting congratulations, Golden Eagle rose to his knees with concern when he heard choking sounds coming from Red Fox. Leaning closer, Golden Eagle saw sweat beading upon his friend’s high forehead. He thumped Red Fox between his wide bronzed shoulders and stared into stricken depths. Understanding dawned when Red Fox reddened with guilt and shame.
“I was expecting congratulations, my friend. One would think you were the one to discover he had fathered a child,” Golden Eagle jeered softly before punching Red Fox in the arm, knocking him to the side.
Recovering from the playful punch and unexpected announcement, Red Fox smacked Golden Eagle in return. The two warriors laughed together and after a few moments of horseplay, m
uch of the tension washed away.
Red Fox was the first to recover. “Don’t be so smug, my friend. Yes, I am the one Wild-Flower loves, as I love her. But none of us is free to marry who we wish.” Tipping his head to the sky, he grinned and gave his friend another playful punch.
Laughing, the two wrestled for a bit as they had when they were just young braves. Tired, they both lay back to gaze at the star-studded sky.
“So, the mighty Eagle is going to become a father, eh. Congratulations, friend.” Holding out his hand, Red Fox grasped Golden Eagle’s in a firm handhold. Serious again, he sighed. “Let us hope all works out for us.”
Lying back down, Golden Eagle reassured him. “It will. It has to,” he declared. “For both our sakes.”
Harry swallowed several colorful curses as he felt the sharp sting of yet another bite. Unable to stand it, he gave in to the irresistible urge and swatted the nasty insect. Thank God it was nearing dawn. Just a bit longer and he would be able to return to his camp.
Harry closed his eyes, wishing he were far away from this hateful place. No amount of money was worth living this close to danger. He’d give this job a few more days, then he was heading out. Old Willy could sit here and do his own dirty work.
Willy and the brothers had arrived two days ago. Willy had become mean as a she-bear with young when he’d seen for himself that there was no way to get into the closely guarded village during the day.
Hank, Red and even Tom had joined Harry in standing up to Willy. He was crazy, they told him, if he thought they could just enter the village and walk out with the girl, even with many of their warriors gone. Willy’s face had turned beet-red with fury when they further explained that if he wanted to go into the village after Sarah, he would have to do it alone. No one was worth dying that kind of death.
Willy had no choice. They would have to wait for Sarah to leave the village before they could attempt to snatch her.
But each time Sarah left the security of the village, she was accompanied by at least two or more armed braves or warriors.
“Sure,” Harry had said, “we could kill them Injuns with her.” But he knew if they weren’t careful, one slip, one scream on her part, and the alarm would be sounded. They wouldn’t have a chance in hell of making it out of these hills alive.
As he rubbed his whisker-stubbed face, disappointment over another wasted night left a bitter taste in Harry’s mouth. During the last week, before Willy’s arrival, he’d seen the girl rise early to wander the village.
Swatting at another buzzing insect, Harry decided to head for camp. He was hungry and dead tired. Daylight would soon break. “Damn,” he fumed, “I ain’t gonna sit here this close to them Injuns. It’s time to get outta here.” He’d rather face Willy’s wrath than a mob of savages. As he turned to crawl away, a slight movement in the village caught his eyes.
Dawn was still a few hours away, but for Sarah, getting any more sleep would prove fruitless and a waste of time. Each morning she woke long before the others with her stomach churning. Walking in the cool early morning seemed to help a bit.
Absently, she fingered the necklace with her treasured eagle and locket. She’d combined both the finger-smoothed eagle and her locket onto the leather thong with Golden Eagle’s blue beads. She knew part of her sleeplessness arose from her anticipation of Golden Eagle’s return. The rest of the hunting party should return sometime today. Already the preparations for the feasting had begun.
Deep in thought, Sarah wandered close to the thick grove of trees that blocked the entrance to their village. Eagerly anticipating Golden Eagle’s arrival later that day, she never realized that she’d left the safety of the inner village and had gotten too close to the one unprotected side.
When a slight noise from behind penetrated her daydreaming mind, alerting her to possible danger, it was too late. From behind, a large dirty hand closed around her mouth, silencing her cry of fear. Held firmly against her unknown attacker and dragged a short distance up the canyon, Sarah fought, not knowing that the warrior who had been guarding the narrow entrance to the village lay unconscious beneath the bushes.
Sarah struggled and kicked, managing to trip her captor, sending them both down into the dirt. His grunt of pain filled her ears, but still Sarah could not free her mouth to scream for help. Arms banded around her chest and lifted her once more. She tried to resist being dragged farther away from the people she now regarded as “her people.”
Harry struggled to keep his hold on the wildly kicking and struggling girl in his arms. He grunted, and nearly dropped her a second time when a vicious fingernail made contact with his face, just barely missing his eye.
Harry kept his hand firmly over sharp teeth that were trying to take a hunk out of his hand. Swearing aloud as teeth made contact with flesh, he shoved her roughly to the rocky and twig-laden ground, following to land on top of her twisting body.
Her attacker raised his hand and struck Sarah with his huge meaty fist. Reeling from the blow while struggling to retain consciousness and fight the nausea, Sarah ran out of strength to fight or scream. Her attacker bound and gagged her. She felt herself flung over bulky shoulders before darkness overcame her.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Wild-Flower faced east in the early morn, ready to greet Wiyohiyanpa, the Spirit of the East which presided over the new day. She hugged her knees close, waiting for the warmth of the new sun to warm her, as she balanced on a large boulder jutting out from the rocky hillside.
Rising before the light of day after a restless night of tossing and turning on the hard rocky floor of the small cave, Wild-Flower had already packed her belongings and lashed them to her horse.
Eating her morning meal of wild plums and fresh berries, she relaxed as she enjoyed the quietness surrounding her. Her horse, hobbled nearby and shielded by a small stand of pine trees and brush, munched the tall grass, its green now turning to brown. Letting her eyes wander, gazing upon the beauty of the hillside, Wild-Flower knew there was no point in going to the village until evening to see if Red Fox had returned.
So lost in thought and daydreams of her love was she that it took a long moment to realize that the ground beneath her was actually vibrating. Wild-Flower quickly leaped from her high perch to flatten and conceal herself on the ground just as the sound of thundering hooves grew near.
With bated breath, she heard Flying Dove, hobbled out of sight, snorting nervously. Wild-Flower risked a peek through the thin barrier of tall brittle grass that grew among the various-sized boulders dotting the hillside. She bit her lower lip as there was no time for her to reach Flying Dove’s side to calm the restless mare. Wild-Flower could only hope the approaching rider would not hear her horse and come to investigate.
Staying as low as possible, she watched horse and rider burst through the trees on her right and continue past her hiding place without breaking stride. Wild-Flower sighed with relief. Flying Dove had not given their presence away.
Her relief was short-lived, however, as she stared after the retreating horse carrying two riders. One was an odd-looking trapper, the other a woman slung across the lap of the white man, her long braids dangling, whipping against the horse.
Wild-Flower’s mouth flew open, and she resisted the urge to jump to her feet. Her hands smothered her cry of horror. “Sarah?” she whispered softly, shaking her head in denial. But she knew that yellow hair could only belong to Golden Eagle’s captive. “I have to do something,” Wild-Flower told herself. “But what?”
She rose from her hiding place and paced, stopping to stare at the point where Sarah’s captor had rounded a bend. She had deliberately stayed far enough from Golden Eagle’s village to avoid possible discovery, and now found she was too far from them to fetch help. She quickly calculated she’d lose precious time trying to alert Golden Eagle’s people. If they were delayed, there was the chance the white man would elude them if he knew these hills, or worse, harm Sarah before help could catch up.
&nb
sp; In the space of seconds, Wild-Flower had made her decision. She ran to her horse, put her food and water in her pouch and removed the rawhide hobbles. With a flying leap, she sat astride her wide back. Ears perked, the horse flew onward, needing little direction from her young mistress. Trained well, she knew what was expected of her.
Wild-Flower’s mind raced as well. She knew what she had to do. Tearing the rawhide thong from around her neck, she tossed it over her shoulder to land in the swirling dust kicked up by her mount’s flying hooves as she raced after her friend in need, careful to keep her distance.
Wild-Flower sent a prayer of thanks for the unorthodox training her father and brother had bestowed upon her. She prayed she would remember all she’d been taught and that someone would miss Sarah soon and come after her. She wished she’d been able to smuggle out her bow and quiver of arrows. But her family would have noticed those missing immediately.
Making sure she left an obvious trail so Golden Eagle and his people would not have to spend precious time searching, she pulled bright colorful pony beads from her dress front and let them fall.
Chief Hawk Eyes reclined against his willow backrest, leisurely consuming his morning meal. The daily chores would not be done today. Instead the day would be given over to preparing for a feast and night of celebration. He looked to his right. Upon arising, he’d unrolled his feather bonnets and hung them from a pole to fluff. The feathers fluttered and lifted as the breeze touched them. He studied them. Both were made with the feathers from the golden eagle.
One was a short and simple headdress made with thirty-two feathers from the eagle’s tail placed in a circle around a hide skullcap base. The other was a more elaborate bonnet with two long tails of eagle feathers that stopped short of the ground. Tonight he would wear the one with two tails.
Finishing the last of his meal, he rose and from another pole at the back of the tipi removed his shield and coup stick, a long willow stick with several eagle feathers attached that he used in raids to touch the enemy and count coup. Hawk Eyes closed his eyes, his heart pulsing to the beat of the drums that would soon fill the air. His body quivered in anticipation of the feasting and dancing that would go on all night.
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