White Wind

by Susan Edwards

  Slowly he ascended and pulled himself up. Standing, he glanced up and remembered to duck his head as the ceiling was low. He stood by another set of closed shutters and opened these too, needing to have nature’s light, air and sounds around him.

  He looked out and far below. It was an odd sensation. Golden Eagle leaned against the wall and studied his strange surroundings. Her bed, much like the one down below, was covered with a bright blanket, a quilt the old woman had called it. The squares of material had been sewn in an eye-pleasing pattern.

  There was one square wooden object to one side of the bed with an unlit candle resting on its surface. Reaching down, Golden Eagle pulled on the wooden knob and revealed a hidden compartment filled with Sarah’s collectibles. There was another larger wooden box within this hidden space. This held white women’s clothing. He shook his head. Why did whites have so many different pieces of doming?

  Scanning the rest of the darkened room, he smiled when he saw the blank stares of well-cared-for dolls and the soft shapes of various animals. He pulled one down. He stared down into a face lovingly stitched into an irresistible smile. Grinning back, he carefully replaced the soft doll. He thought of Winona. His sister had never seen dolls such as these and would love to see these white girl’s toys.

  A noise from below caught his attention. Looking over the railing, he saw Sarah twisting and flailing under her covers. Golden Eagle quickly scrambled down the ladder and returned to her side. He put his hand to her forehead. She was warm, but not too hot. Picking up the cool cloth Mary insisted he use, he wrung out the excess water as she’d instructed and wiped Sarah’s face and neck. Dropping the cloth, he trailed his finger down her pale cheek. Closing his eyes, he prayed to the Great Spirit to heal his love.

  “White Wind, will you not awaken? How long must you sleep? I love you, little one. When you are well, we will return to our home and I promise to keep you and our child safe.”

  Golden Eagle continued to croon soft words of encouragement to Sarah. Speaking aloud to her was his only way to black out the terrible visions of her being held at gunpoint and then falling to the ground to save him from a bullet.

  It was the only way he had to keep from scolding and lashing out at her for risking her life for his once again. Golden Eagle knew how close he’d come to losing White Wind forever. He shuddered, knowing he would have nightmares for weeks.

  The door opened softly, admitting Chief White Cloud. He looked into the dark room and stopped beside his daughter. “Go rest, Golden Eagle. I will watch over White Wind. I have slept, you have not.”

  Golden Eagle started to refuse, but had second thoughts. This was White Wind’s father, a father who’d not known of his daughter’s existence and then had nearly lost her. Golden Eagle respected White Cloud for giving him much time with his daughter. Now he must give White Cloud time alone with her as well.

  Golden Eagle nodded. “I will rest.” He gave White Cloud the same instructions Mary had given him, but still he hesitated to leave her to go outside. His hand stroked her hair one more time.

  He glanced up and pointed for White Cloud’s benefit. “I will sleep up there. I will be close if she awakes and calls for me.”

  At the chief’s nod, Golden Eagle made his way to the loft once again, but this time he stretched himself out on the feather-stuffed bed. Before Golden Eagle could worry over the prospect of nightmares, the warriors outside or even the excessive softness he sank into, he was asleep.

  Chapter Forty-One

  White Cloud leaned forward, elbows on knees, head resting in his bands. No one needed to remind him of his good fortune, that Sarah and Wild-Flower had survived their ordeal at the hands of the white men.

  He lifted his head, one hand rubbing the weariness and shock as if to wipe it away. If only he had known before leaving her that Emily would give birth to a child conceived that wonderful summer so long ago. His face pinched with pain. His lungs contracted painfully and his breath came in shallow gasps. He shook his head because in his heart, even if he’d known, his fate had been sealed. He could have done nothing different.

  White Cloud stood and leaned over the bed, gathering the courage to study his newfound daughter, something as yet he’d not been brave enough to do. Tears formed in his eyes. His heart hammered, the pulse echoing in his ears as his mouth worked silently. He stared in amazement as he studied each and every delicate feature. White Cloud drew a raspy breath. Sarah’s features were so like her mother’s, the years melted away and he beheld his lost love again.

  Tears coursed down his wrinkled leathery cheeks as he remembered the gentle young woman he had loved and cared for. Their time together had been short, but Emily had meant so much to him that thoughts of her rekindled an ache in his old heart, even after all these years.

  Looking upon Sarah, White Cloud knew he would never forget that summer with Emily. He also hoped Small Bird would accept White Wind into their family as his eldest child, for he knew he would never turn his back on her. Wild-Flower already looked upon White Wind as her sister, and Running Wolf did not seem to mind that he now had an older sister, and was even showing signs of brotherly protection, much to Golden Eagle’s annoyance.

  As the minutes ticked by, White Cloud became immersed in long-buried memories, became the young man he had once been. Taken in by his father’s brother when his parents were brutally murdered, he had grown up with tribal warring. And when he’d become old enough to participate, he’d gone on raids, become part of the vicious cycle of tribe retaliating against tribe.

  And then, scenes from that wondrous peaceful summer when he’d roamed at will flashed across the lids of his closed eyes. The miles of earth he’d walked across, the long, solitary hours spent on top of a mountain, listening to the wind, and the nights sleeping out in the open, the tall prairie grass hiding him from his enemies, the dark sky filled with bright flickering light.

  Suddenly, he frowned, the stars in his mind obscured by the thick smoke from the burned wagon. In quick flashes came the image of the white girl, curled in a fetal position, crying, alone and frightened.

  As long as he lived, he knew he’d never forget those months shared with the white girl. That summer had been one of the happiest times of his life. Their love grew stronger each day, unlike anything he’d ever known, but it was not destined to be. His arranged wife-to-be awaited his return. The pain of leaving Emily was as sharp and piercing today as it had been eighteen years ago.

  A moan reached his ears, followed by another. White Cloud’s eyes flew open, his mind cleared of past memories when he realized the soft moans were coming from White Wind, not from him.

  Sarah tossed restlessly, her covers twisting around her hot body, whimpers of pain escaping her gasping lips, as her body fought the return to consciousness. White Cloud picked up the cloth that Golden Eagle had laid aside and gently wiped her face, squeezing some moisture onto her parched lips.

  “Come, daughter, leave the dream world behind. Open your eyes. You are safe now,” he coaxed his daughter in a trembling husky voice.

  Eyes the color of snow-fed streams flickered open, glazed with fever, and quickly closed as another spasm of pain racked her young body.

  White Wind’s pain became his as he reassured both of them, “You will heal quickly, daughter. You are strong and brave. Do not fight the pain. Breathe deeply. That’s it. Slowly now.”

  Slipping his arm carefully beneath her head, White Cloud gently raised her head and coaxed her to drink a few sips of the cool pain-numbing tea.

  White Cloud held his daughter until she relaxed, the herbs numbing her pain and easing her fever.

  Sarah opened her eyes again as the pain subsided to a dull throbbing and stared at the stranger leaning over her. She blinked her eyes, but couldn’t seem to focus or think clearly. She didn’t even know where she was, but there was something she desperately needed to know. If only the clouds hovering over her would stay away until she thought of what it was.

  Her
hand went to her throat, but the necklace was gone, her eagle. “Golden Eagle,” she croaked, nightmarish flashes of the scene with Willy coming at her fast and furious. The last thing she remembered was Willy aiming his gun at Golden Eagle.

  She panicked and tried to rise, but a cry of pain escaped as her shoulder, stiff and sore, protested with sharp, piercing throbs. Gasping, tears blurring her sight, Sarah sobbed in barely audible words, “Golden Eagle. Golden Eagle. Where are you?”

  Strong hands gently held her still, urging her to remain calm. She tried to fight, but had no strength. The desire to yield to the fog surrounding her was overwhelming as the herbs worked to claim her mind once again. Her eyes closed against her will. Her pain eased. Sarah struggled to focus on the words being spoken near her ear.

  “Rest easy, daughter. Golden Eagle is well. Your actions this day have saved his life. Soon you will be strong and see for yourself. Sleep now.”

  Relief flowed through her. Safe. The stranger’s voice kept whispering over and over. Her hands gravitated toward her middle. “My baby,” she whispered weakly.

  “The child within you is safe. Now hush, daughter. No more questions. When you are well, we will talk. Sleep now,” the soothing voice commanded.

  Sarah let her body relax to the soft harmonic crooning. But something kept tugging at her. He called her daughter. That wasn’t right. Her father was dead. No, her pa was dead. Her brows wrinkled in confusion. She didn’t know her father yet. But why…

  White Cloud rose as Sarah’s breathing deepened and once again she fell into a long, deep, healing sleep.

  All the next day Sarah slept, waking only for brief moments to accept water, teas and soup that were spooned into her mouth. She slept, oblivious to hands that bathed her with cool rags, and never heard any of the commotion of people coming and going.

  Mary allowed Golden Eagle to take over Sarah’s care, relieving him so he could eat and rest. Many times White Cloud and Hawk Eyes also came in to sit at her side. For two more days, heat raged through Sarah’s body as she fought off infection.

  On the evening of the third day, the outside door opened tentatively to admit Wild-Flower and Red Fox. Gingerly, they stepped into the darkened room, casting a warm glow onto the shadowed wall as they entered, Wild-Flower carrying a candle-lit lantern.

  Wild-Flower glanced around in curiosity as she set the lantern down. “Healing-Woman asked me to bring you this light-flame.”

  With Red Fox at her side, as she’d been nervous about entering the large wooden house, Wild-Flower’s eyes grew round as she took in a way of life she’d only heard about, but never seen.

  “How is White Wind, my brother?” Red Fox inquired, noting Sarah’s pale, drawn features.

  Golden Eagle sighed deeply. “She is resting, my friends. The Healing-Woman says exhaustion is causing her to sleep so long. She says the wound is healing and the heat seems to have left her body. I will wait for White Wind to awaken and show me she is recovering,” Golden Eagle declared.

  Wild-Flower approached and looked down at the sleeping white girl. Sitting on the opposite side, she put her hand over her sister’s relaxed fingers. “Father has told me we are sisters. I like this idea of being sister to your White Wind. An older sister is welcome, and I will be aunt to your children as well.”

  Grinning mischievously, Wild-Flower added, “Our fathers sit under the full moon planning our weddings and discussing their first grandchild. You were right, Golden Eagle. The Wakan Tanka showed our fathers his true path.”

  Sobering, she looked to Red Fox, love shining brightly as she grasped his hand, careful of the bandages Healing-Woman had insisted on applying. Wild-Flower shuddered as she recalled just how close she’d come to being trapped in that burning building.

  After Sarah had been taken out by the white man, sparks and burning pieces of the brittle dry roof had fallen in, igniting everything they touched. Bound to the wooden bed frame, Wild-Flower could not flee the hungry flames. Desperate, she’d managed to retrieve the knife that Willy had dropped and forgotten.

  But it took her too long to cut the ropes. By then smoke filled the room, making it impossible to see the doorway.

  In her dreams she still saw the flames licking at the old mattress, heard the crackling and popping noises made by the fire as it consumed the entire space around her.

  Just when she’d given up hope, sounds of ripping and tearing had her searching the smoke-filled room, her eyes burning and her lungs near to bursting for air. Red Fox had ripped off the rotting boards at the back to lead her out. She’d never forget the relief that had surged through her when she felt his strong arms lift and carry her, coughing, gasping, past angry flames to safety. Even now, she had to fight her apprehension at just being in a wooden building again.

  A light touch brought her eyes up as Golden Eagle’s strong hand helped her to her feet. Wild-Flower nodded her head in silent acknowledgment. “We leave you now. I will tell Father that White Wind still sleeps.”

  Golden Eagle watched Red Fox and Wild-Flower leave, happy that things had worked out so well for them. Turning back to White Wind, Golden Eagle carefully stretched out beside her and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  A dull throbbing ache invaded Sarah’s safe warm cocoon, bringing her out of her deep sleep. She attempted to snuggle closer to a warmth that even in her unconscious state she knew represented safety and comfort, a haven from nightmares and pain.

  Her movement, slight though it was, brought a sharp stab of pain to her shoulder, causing eyes clear of fever to fly open. Black shadows lurked on walls of wood, thrown there by the lone low-burning candle. Sarah took careful calm breams until the pain subsided as one of her dream voices had instructed.

  A puzzled look entered her shadowed eyes. Had it been a dream? She was still groggy and disoriented and she knew she had been hurt, but where? Experimentally, she moved each limb.

  First she moved her legs, one at a time. She sighed. They were a bit stiff, but otherwise all right. Likewise, she could move her right arm, but when she attempted to move her left arm, burning shafts of fireballs tore through her, causing her to bite her lower lip until she tasted blood. She forced herself to remain still, and continued the slow deep breathing until the pain returned to a dull throb.

  Opening her eyes again, Sarah moved only her head as she looked around, trying to get her bearings. Her eyes fell on a crudely made corner chair with its embroidered pillow—her first attempt at embroidery, she fondly recalled. She relaxed as her eyes lit upon item after item of familiarity. She was home. A soft smile tilted her lips and she sighed. Home. What a sweet sound that had.

  Wait. This wasn’t home. Not anymore. Home was a pallet of furs on the ground, walls of sewn-together buffalo hides. Home was Golden Eagle’s tipi. Where was he? Sarah panicked, and just then felt movement beside her. Fearfully she turned, and found herself nose-to-nose with the most wonderful sight of all. Golden Eagle!

  Lifting her good arm to his smooth face, unable to see clearly, Sarah spoke, her voice hoarse with disuse. “You weren’t hurt? Willy didn’t shoot you? I’m not dreaming, am I?”

  “No, my sweet one. I am unharmed.” His brows drew together suddenly. “Except for the scare you gave me. Do not ever step between me and my enemy again. I forbid it,” Golden Eagle commanded as he slid off the bed and gently lifted her head, careful not to jar her wound and cause undue pain. Placing a cup of cool water to her dry cracked lips, he urged her to sip. When she had her fill, he carefully laid her back and checked her shoulder dressing for signs of fresh bleeding.

  Sarah sighed with relief, but thoughts of Willy made her look anxiously around. Her chin was tipped toward Golden Eagle. “You will never have to worry about the one who caused so much pain to us all,” he reassured her. “He will never bother anyone again.”

  Sarah closed her eyes and shuddered, blocking out the horrible nightmare. She was thankful that she’d never have to worry about Willy again, but a sma
ll part of her was sorry that it had had to end the awful way it did.

  “No regrets, White Wind. Your guardian chose his path,” Golden Eagle said, recognizing the look of sorrow on Sarah’s face.

  “I know.” A fragment of a dream came back to her and she concentrated, drawing her brows together as she tried to remember. Her father? She’d dreamed her father had sat here beside her. Was that possible? No, she must’ve been dreaming. “Some dream. I just wish it had been true,” she said more to herself man to Golden Eagle.

  “What dream? What are you talking about, White Wind?” Golden Eagle asked.

  Sarah smiled in the semi-darkness and spoke softly. “I had a dream. A strange wonderful dream.”

  Receiving a nod of encouragement, Sarah continued. “I dreamed my father sat here, holding my hand, talking to me, but how can that be? We don’t even know who he is yet or if he still lives,” Sarah sighed regretfully.

  Golden Eagle got to his feet and tucked the covers gently around her shoulders. “I’ll be right back,” he promised.

  A few minutes later, the door opened, but the bed was back under the loft and Sarah couldn’t see who entered.

  Golden Eagle reappeared, and behind him stood three people. She recognized one. “Wild-Flower! You’re safe,” she exclaimed, struggling to sit. Golden Eagle helped her sit and sat behind her, supporting her.

  Sarah leaned back, fighting waves of tiredness but not wanting to sleep anymore. Wild-Flower came and stood at the foot of the bed, grinning. “It is good to see the sister of Wild-Flower awake.”