One day, while resting on a high ridge, he’d spotted rising smoke from far below. Deciding to investigate the next day, he’d come across a burned wagon. There had been no sign of survivors of the bloody massacre, so he’d left the area.
But late that night, he’d been awakened by the same cry that came to him in his visions. It was a cry of grief and despair. He’d followed the heart-wrenching sobs, and come upon a young white girl who’d managed to hide and survive the fate of her family.
White Cloud’s words were for his son. “Though I had the answer to the cries in my vision, I could not return immediately to my village. I traveled across the land, the white woman at my side. By the end of the summer months I had fallen in love with her, but knew I had no choice but to return to my people and fulfill my duties. I left her where she would be found and taken to safety. Before I left, I gave her this box of wood and necklace.”
“Father, what does all this mean?” Running Wolf asked. “I saw the white captive. She is young, my age, and cannot be the woman you once knew.”
White Cloud looked up from the box and stared into his son’s bewildered expression. His own grew grim as he glanced around him. “It would seem, my son, that you have an older sister and I have two daughters to search for. Come, we ride. Fetch our mounts, Running Wolf. Gather the warriors, Golden Eagle. Much time has been wasted!” Warriors from both tribes ran to their horses at the chief’s command. No one dared point out it was his fault that they’d been delayed in the first place.
Relentlessly, Willy drove his gang onward without rest. Staying close to streams, away from deep ravines where they could become trapped, they rode as if the devil himself were on their tail. For they knew if caught, they would fare much better with the devil than the angry warriors.
During a brief water stop, Sarah lay on the hard ground, hands bound, a ragged cloth tied tightly across her mouth. She lay on her side, curled into a tight ball of pain and misery. Her backside hurt where the old trapper had thrown her to the rocky ground, and her face was swollen and hot where she’d been struck.
Thirsty. She was so thirsty, her lips puffed out, her tongue dry and thick. No one offered her a drink. Sarah listened to her captors as they hurriedly gulped water from the stream and cooled the horses.
Footsteps sounded. Nearer. Unable to move, Sarah waited, knowing from the shuffling Willy was coming. A booted foot caught her rib and shoved her onto her back to rest on numb hands, pulling her shoulders from her sockets. Blinking against the glare of the sun and the shooting pain, Sarah glared at Willy as he towered over her.
“Betcha you’d like some water, huh, missy?” Sarah’s eyes went to the bent and beat-up tin cup in his hands. Willy lowered his bulk and held the cup inches from her bound mouth. “Say please, bitch. Ask real nice and I might give ya some.” Willy’s harsh laughter rang out as Sarah turned her head. Rough hands yanked her head around to face him.
“No, huh. Ah, well. Guess I’ll just have ta drink it.” Willy gulped the liquid, half of it running down his chin to drip onto his shirtfront. Sarah groaned uncontrollably as Willy yanked her to her feet and shoved her toward his horse. Tossing her on top, uncaring that her fringed skirt had ridden high to expose her thighs, Willy jumped into the saddle. His arms became tight shackles as he held her against his chest. The horse surged forward in answer to the sharp kick in its side.
Many long hours later, Sarah leaned her head against the rough bark of the tree she was tied to. All day and far into the night, she’d been force to ride. She was exhausted, hungry and consumed with thirst.
She swallowed a moan, not wanting to draw attention to how much she hurt. Each time Willy called for a halt, he’d dumped her onto the hard ground, laughing and tormenting her until he was ready to go on.
This was the longest stop Willy had allowed. He and the others huddled off by themselves, arguing angrily. Her head spun, her stomach lurched queasily. She was faint from lack of food and water. Closing her eyes in misery, Sarah forced her thoughts elsewhere and allowed images of Golden Eagle to soothe her fears. He would come for her. She had to believe that help was on its way.
She was so lost in thought she nearly screamed when a faint voice whispered in her ear.
“Not worry, Sarah. Wild-Flower follow. Soon others follow my trail. Cannot free you now, but will try to keep you from harm till warriors arrive. Do not speak. Must go.”
All too soon, the voice faded away. Sarah wasn’t even sure that it had been real, that it hadn’t been her imagination. But then she heard the shuffling and opened her eyes. Willy approached, canteen in hand.
Bending down, he let his hate-filled gaze roam over her. He held the canteen in front of her face and taunted her. “Water, dear girl?” Yanking off her gag, he warned her, “Don’t you talk, or scream if you knows what’s good fer you.” Unscrewing the cap, he held it out to her.
Unable to reach out and take it, Sarah just sat there, daggers shooting from her eyes. Her mouth was so dry, she couldn’t have spoken if her life depended on it.
“Oh, don’t want any, huh?” Taking the canteen back, Willy said scornfully,
“You’ve been a bad girl anyway. You don’t d’serve none. You caused me no end of trouble. Maybe I’ll make you wait till mornin’,” Willy slurred as he recapped the canteen and staggered back to his buddies, laughing the whole way.
Wild-Flower observed the exchange, and her eyes narrowed and blackened with anger as she made her way back to her horse. Taking her water pouch and keeping to the shadows, she silently made her way back to the tree where Sarah was tied and eased behind the girl, the low-growing shrubbery hiding her.
Sarah jumped when Wild-Flower spoke once again. “Turn head slowly.” Doing as instructed, Sarah turned her head, keeping an eye on the drinking men, who were no longer paying attention to her as they passed Willy’s flask around.
Carefully, Wild-Flower dribbled small droplets of water onto a large green leaf and tipped the liquid into Sarah’s parched mouth without spilling. “I go now.” Slinking away, Wild-Flower flattened herself into the shadows and melted away.
Sarah closed her eyes, thankful for the soothing coolness of the water. She refrained from wetting her dry and cracked lips. Any moisture on her lips would alert Willy that she had help nearby. She prayed for Willy to forget to gag her for the cloth dried her mouth out fast. Later, as Willy unbound her from the tree, Sarah also prayed for her friend’s safety.
She winced against the bite of hard fingers digging into the tender flesh of her upper arm. Once again, they were on the move.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Golden Eagle stood apart from the others, staring out into the inky blackness, fighting the demons of despair. His hands rested on his hips as he tipped his head back, flexing his shoulders in a circular motion, working the tension from the taut muscles of his neck and shoulders.
He eyed the gray blanket above that blocked the light of Hanwi. They needed the light from the sky this night. Silently, he sent a prayer to Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit, to watch over his love and keep her safe until he caught up with the evil one that had taken her. Anger filled him, and immediately he concentrated on stifling that emotion. The time would come to give his anger free reign. But right now, he needed to keep a clear head. His mind had to be free to think and plan.
He slumped slightly, leaning against his horse for support. A hand rested upon his shoulder and tore him from his dark thoughts. He turned slowly, and his troubled glance met the equally worried glance of Chief White Cloud.
“Come eat, my son. We will catch them. We ride much faster then they do. Already we have gained on them. Wakan Tanka will watch over my daughters. He would not lead me to the daughter that I gave life to so long ago just to take her from me before allowing me to claim her as my blood and flesh.”
Golden Eagle watched as White Cloud absently fingered the carving of a tiny windflower he said he’d given to Wild-Flower when she’d turned thirteen winters.
> Soon after leaving the village the band of warriors had come to a complete stop when they’d spotted the necklace in the middle of the trail. White Cloud and Running Wolf knew it was Wild-Flower’s way of letting them know she was following White Wind’s captors. Soon after, they’d begun to spot the beads she’d been dropping regularly.
“Your daughter is very brave to follow,” Golden Eagle now said in praise, unable to believe that this was Sarah’s, no, White Wind’s father.
“Yes. I will praise her for her quick thinking and cunning. Her bravery has saved much precious time. However, my daughter still has some explaining to do as to why she left our home in the night. Although I can guess it might have something to do with a warrior named Red Fox. Is this not so? This warrior seems very concerned about Wild-Flower.”
Golden Eagle started. “You are very wise, Chief. Red Fox is the one Wild-Flower wishes to marry.” He looked over at Red Fox, who, like he, was dealing with concern for a loved one.
Nodding his head toward the others, White Cloud took Golden Eagle by the arm, forcing him to return with him. “You wish to take as wife my daughter known as Sarah?” he quietly probed.
“Yes, Chief White Cloud. I love Sarah and she returns my feelings. But from now on, you must call her White Wind, the name given to her by my mother. Her vision said this woman would become my helpmate for this walk on Mother Earth. The Great Spirit has crossed our paths not once, but twice. I believe it is for this purpose. I ask that you allow me to take White Wind as my wife,” Golden Eagle respectfully said.
Stopping suddenly, White Cloud eyed Golden Eagle in his most forbidding manner. Drawing himself to his most imposing height, he replied, “White Wind is a most fitting name for the daughter of White Cloud. There is no question or doubt that you shall be joined. White Wind is the eldest daughter of this chief. The agreement between our tribes is for the eldest son of Hawk Eyes and the eldest daughter of White Cloud to marry and join the tribes and wipe out the shame of the past. This agreement will be carried out.”
A sparkle deep within his dark eyes took any sting from his words. “Now, none lose honor. The agreement will be carried out as it was meant to be.”
Chuckling despite the grave circumstances, Golden Eagle followed in the wake of the wise chief and forced food and water past his lips. He would need his strength when they caught up to the white men. Tracks now suggested there were five horses plus Wild-Flower’s. All too soon, they were back on the trail, clouds of billowing dust swirling beneath pounding hooves, kicking dirt and small rocks behind them. The dried earth blurred under scorching rays from above. The prairie floor sped by as they thundered onward. Miles were covered quickly, and soon the flatness gave way to denser growth, sloping upward, forcing the horses to slow.
Slowing his spirited stallion, Golden Eagle nudged his horse toward the sound of rushing water as he signaled for another rest. Two warriors dismounted and on foot disappeared beneath the thick low-hanging branches.
They returned a few minutes later with the given signal that all was safe, and the rest of the large group dismounted and led their sturdy mounts to the river.
Refreshing himself after seeing to his horse, Golden Eagle stared as gurgling water rushed past him. They had passed the forked river, and soon this water would join the large river, the one the white man called the Missouri.
He was thankful the trail followed water. As hard as they were pushing their horses, the unlimited water supply was a blessing.
Rising, he surveyed the others as they sat in small circles and chewed pemmican or jerked meat. Silence prevailed as each took advantage of the brief respite from the hard traveling that had started the day before. No one had slept, but a strong healthy warrior could go days without sleep when the need arose.
His eyes fell to his father. He shook his head as he knew his father would not admit to the tiredness he felt. Golden Eagle knew his father would soon step down as chief. Many times had he brought up the fact that the tribe needed fresh young blood to lead them against the rising numbers of whites that were settling along the many rivers leading to their sacred hills.
Pulling out his pouch of refreshment, Golden Eagle too ate in silence. Popping the last bite of dried buffalo meat into his mouth, he rose. Squaring his shoulders, head held high, he called for all to gather round.
Commanding full attention from the others, Golden Eagle drew in the loose dirt with a sharp stick.
Pointing with one finger, Golden Eagle followed the line that was the stream they now followed, showing where it would join the larger body of water. He placed a rock to show where they were. Adding another rock to a small mound of dirt, above the large river, he explained.
“This is where White Wind lived in her white man’s wood home. This is where the white captors now head.” Golden Eagle marked a path in the dirt connecting the two marks.
“We must separate. There is a shortcut I will take to the white man’s home.” He grew silent as he marked the way over the ridge in the near distance. “I will be there waiting.” He tapped the shortcut he proposed. It would not be an easy trip, but it would be faster. “The rest can follow Wild-Flower’s trail along the rivers.”
He and all the other warriors had been very impressed with the girl’s courage and cunning. Looking at Red Fox as he squatted down to join them, Golden Eagle saw the pride shining in his friend’s eyes.
“I have been to this place two times,” he continued. “I will lead my warriors there. Chief White Cloud, you and your warriors follow the white men and your daughters.”
Chief White Cloud nodded. “It is a good plan. You are as smart and cunning as your father, Golden Eagle. However, I will ride with you. I wish to be there when the white trapper and his band arrive with my daughter.”
Speaking up, Chief Hawk Eyes voiced his agreement to the plan. “I will lead the rest of the warriors with your son at my side, Chief White Cloud. We will trap the whites between us. They will not be able to escape us.”
Gathering their horses, White Cloud took his spot next to Golden Eagle with fierce-looking warriors flanking them as they raced to reach the ranch before Sarah’s kidnappers.
It was well past noon before Willy called another halt. The five men and four horses halted beneath the shade of a few trees.
Tom’s horse had gone lame just after the last rest, nearly injuring its rider as it stumbled. Turning the horse free, Hank and Tom had doubled up. They didn’t dare shoot the lame beast for fear the gunshot would be heard miles away. Luckily, none had seen the rock that had been fired from a crude sling and had struck the beast in the leg.
“Hey, Willy, do ya think we lost ’em?” Tom asked the question they all were thinking.
Willy frowned as he looked around. “Don’t know. Too early to tell. We rest for only a few minutes.” Willy ignored the groans from the others as he refilled his canteen.
His lips curled in anger as he glanced over at Sarah, who sat tall and proud as she fearlessly met his narrowed eyes.
Willy closed the distance between them and stood staring down at her. His eyes traveled over her filthy and torn Indian garb. His fingers reached out and pulled at her snarled and matted hair. “Not so beautiful anymore, are ya, bitch. Ya looks like your mother did the day John brought her home. All filthy and smelly.”
Snarling, Willy threw the canteen at her feet. His eyes narrowed as Sarah defiantly kicked the proffered water away.
Picking up the dirt-covered canteen, Willy growled, “I won’t have you dyin’ or turnin’ weak yet, girl. Drink or I’ll pour it down your throat. What I have in mind for you ain’t an easy death. Dyin’ from lack of water is too good for you. By the time me an’ the boys are done, you will have wished you’d never gone against me.”
Her hands untied, but bound at the waist to the tree, Sarah picked up the canteen and drank. She knew better than to push Willy too far. She had to stay alive for Golden Eagle and their baby.
“You won’t get away with this,
Willy. Golden Eagle will kill you and anyone else who touches me,” she warned him, loud enough for all to hear.
Sarah refused to show it, but she was scared. Willy was insane and therefore unpredictable. In his present state, he was dangerous. But Sarah knew if she cowered before him, it would feed his wrath and hatred, spiraling it out of control. No, she had to stay calm. She was slightly reassured knowing Wild-Flower was following, leaving an easy trail for others to follow.
Sarah refused to meet the calculating glances thrown at her from the others. Her warning brought laughter. The looks she’d been receiving caused shivers of fear to tear at her insides. They wanted her in the most primitive way a male wanted a woman. There would be no mercy from this group. They were like wild animals hunting and feeding on the helpless.
They had the look of hungry wolves stalking a prey that was trapped against a wall with no place to run or hide.
She knew she was to be their next victim. Willy had been hinting at it all day. He knew that her fear would grow with each hint and barb he tossed her way.
Grabbing Sarah, Willy threw her back onto his horse and swung up behind her. Sarah sat stiffly in front of him. She would not voluntarily lean against him. Willy’s temper snapped. His eyes gleamed with evil as he roughly yanked her against his chest. His arm circled tightly around her waist. “It’s no good fighting me, dear Sarah. I’ll break you, have ya begging for mercy. Soon, you’ll see.”
Jerking his head to indicate the others behind them, Willy taunted her. “And when I’m done, maybe I’ll allow them boys to sample what’s left.” Willy laughed when he felt Sarah’s involuntary shudder.
Placing a hand boldly over her breast, he applied enough pressure to cause pain. Untying the dress at the neckline, he pulled the dress away so he could have an unobstructed view, his hold on her warning her not to fight him.
Slipping his roughened hand inside to maul her tender flesh, Willy laughed when Sarah stiffened.
White Wind Page 28