by Karen Kay
“I told him to leave me,” said Collin, “but Lame Bird would not do it. After running off the enemy’s horses, Lame Bird then rescued me by pulling me onto his pony and, since the enemy had no mounts, we were able to escape.”
Anna stood staring at the two of them with something which must have been akin to shock fixed upon her face. For the moment, speaking seemed beyond her.
“It was a knife wound,” said Collin into the silence. And then, as though he were proud of it, he pulled up his pant leg to indicate a raw, red scar.
Anna sucked in her breath.
“I tried to heal it as well as I could,” said Lame Bird in sign language. “I could not find the best herbs to attend to it because we had to keep moving. We did not know if the Pawnee might catch their horses and give us chase.”
Anna smiled at Lame Bird and said, “You did well,” giving meaning to the English words by signing. She added, “That was a very brave thing that you did.”
Lame Bird stuck his chin up in the air and straightened his spine. But there was a sparkle in his eye when he signed, “And would you have done less?”
Anna shook her head and, casting a glance at Lame Bird, gestured, “I would have done the best I could.” She touched Lame Bird’s shoulder while, under her breath, she remarked, “It reminds me that I have not uttered a proper thank-you to you, young man.” And as though to rectify the error at once, Anna signed, “I would give you honor, too, for coming to our aid—mine and the children’s—back there at the train fight. I…That was another brave thing that you did for us and I thank you.”
Lame Bird grinned at her slightly before he signed, “As was yours in rescuing me. Perhaps,” he added, “we are kindred spirits.”
Anna smiled. “I think that you may be right,” she said and, reaching out, put her arms around the youngster, hugging him close.
Lame Bird returned the embrace effusively until, as though embarrassed, he turned away to leave Collin in Anna’s charge. But Anna soon discovered that she had the same problem as Lame Bird. She did not have the proper herbs or medicine to treat the wound.
Hopefully, thought Anna, when they reached Tall Bull’s camp, they could all rest for a few days and allow Collin to recover. Silently, she said a prayer.
They found the Dog Soldier camp at a place the whites called Summit Springs, on the South Platte. Here the Indians had set up camp because the river was too flooded to cross.
It was the first time Anna had ever witnessed an Indian encampment, and had she not been so nervous, she might have admired the sight of it perhaps a bit more than she did. Stretched out for miles over a high plateau, the tepees complemented the land as though they were attached to it and a part of it.
Buffalo skins, bleached white on the bottom and darker toward the top, fell over tall lodgepoles neatly arranged in circles. There were literally hundreds of these lodges, beautifully painted and strewn over the land, the only curious thing she noticed about the dwellings being that their entrances were all set toward the east.
Closer and closer they came to the camp, near enough that Anna could hear the shouts and laughter of children. She huddled her own charges in toward her and put her arms protectively around them. No one spoke.
At first, upon entering the camp, the buzz of happy voices and the rhythm of drums swept through the village. But as soon as the people caught sight of War Cloud leading herself and the children, the camp became quiet. And if ever it could be said that silence was deafening, this was the time.
Soon, however, as War Cloud had predicted, incomprehensible words came at her. Anna needed no translation to recognize the jeers. Some picked up stones. A few threw them; others threatened.
“E-tsevestoemo,” War Cloud sang out, grabbing stones from as many people as he could and forcing those close to him to set down their weapons. “E-tsevestoemo (She is the one who is my spouse),” he shouted at the crowd.
Quickly he ushered Anna and the children through the camp and into a tepee, out of sight.
No one followed them, although Anna became more than a little aware that several Indians stood outside the lodge. She could literally “feel” their hostility. Still, no one made a move to harm them.
Anna did not understand and she asked War Cloud, “Why do they not follow us in here or try to pull up the lodge’s covering, if they want to hurt us?”
“Because,” War Cloud said, as he watched her settle the children, “you are in one of the lodges of the chief, Tall Bull. No one will harm you so long as you remain here. Even the worst of our enemies would be safe here so long as they do not step foot outside the lodge. Now, stay here. I will be gone but a moment.”
And then he left without another word.
But he was back quickly enough, bringing an old woman with him.
Anna glanced up at the Indian matron, noticing that the woman stood watching her with a look that could only be called disbelief.
War Cloud, however, appeared to be anxious to be on his way and he instructed, “Do not leave this lodge. Remember that so long as you remain in this tepee, you are safe. This woman is Blue Star. She is white, although she has been with us so long, no one remembers that about her anymore. She will help you.”
White? Anna stared hard at the woman, receiving a similar scrutiny in return.
White? This person certainly looked like no white woman Anna had ever seen. The old one’s face was literally covered with paint and her graying hair, caught into two braids, had turned almost completely white, hiding whatever color it might once have been. She wore a southern Cheyenne cloth dress and moccasins.
Anna said, “Hello?”
The woman gazed at her in wonder, as if she knew the word but could not put a significance to it.
War Cloud said, “My brother and I, as well as Collin, must go to the tepee of the council chiefs. There we must tell them what we have seen. None of you are to leave here. Do you understand?”
Anna nodded but protested, “Must Collin accompany you?”
“Haahe, but he will not be harmed. I promise this. That he sustained an injury in battle with the Pawnee will make him a hero in the eyes of our people.”
Anna gazed at the face of her young charge, recognizing the light of excitement in those youthful eyes. “All right,” she agreed, “but please send him back here soon so that I can attend to his wound. And Collin, do exactly as War Cloud tells you.”
Collin nodded and War Cloud said, “It will be done.” Turning, he bent over to exit the tepee, Lame Bird and Collin following quickly after him.
After they left, Anna glanced at the old woman once more and smiling, tried again, “Hello?”
But when the old woman returned, “Pave-eseeva,” and when she seemed to have no more to say, Anna gave up trying to communicate.
Under the cover of darkness, they left the Dog Soldier camp as quickly as they had come.
“A war party of Sioux have arrived and have reported that the soldiers are close to the camp,” said War Cloud, returning to Anna and the children in the early evening. “The Sioux advise that we move camp and cross the river at once, but Tall Bull will not do it. He says it is too dangerous.”
Anna fixed her eyes on War Cloud and muttered, “And so the Indians will not cross the river because it is too dangerous? But we will? We, who have much less experience with these kinds of things? And in the middle of the night no less?”
Though he appeared to listen to her, he seemed unaffected by her questions. “We must and we will do it. Try to understand, while you might be safe in this lodge, there is too much danger for you here in the camp, even though I have said that you are my woman and that these children are my own. Plus, with the warrior-whites so close to us, we cannot stay here. If fighting were to start, no one would know you from the enemy. Possibly no one would care. Hova’ahane, we cannot stay.”
“But, War Cloud, how can we possibly get across the river safely?”
He shrugged lightly. “We will manage,” he sa
id. “We leave tonight. Prepare yourself and the children.”
Anna sighed. She had hoped to rest here for a little while longer. She could have used more sleep, and she had wanted Collin to have more time to recuperate.
But perhaps it was for the best. If the soldiers were close and there was to be fighting, she did not wish to be in the middle of it. Besides, if she were honest, she would admit that she was becoming used to traveling through the night.
She awoke the children well before midnight. At least one good thing had come from arriving in the Dog Soldier camp, and that was that they had been given ready access of War Cloud’s pony herd. All of the children rode, most traveling double, and with one mount for each adult, plus one for Collin and one for Lame Bird, they left camp with twelve horses total.
Now they only had to ford a flooded river.
Raging water filled Anna’s vision while the thundering mass of swirling liquid rippled under the beams of a crescent moon. Mixtures of dark brown and white foam swept over its bed like a streaming herd of stampeding buffalo; loud thumps of rocks, as they were picked up and set down, adding to the general cacophony.
Mists filled the air, partly from the water, partly from the fires the Indians had set to erase their trail. Smoky. The air smelled smoky and wet all at the same time. And while beads of moisture fell over her face, she watched the natural disaster in utter fascination.
Whatever were they going to do? It looked impossible.
She was not given long to ponder their plight, however. Approaching her with one of the ponies, War Cloud said, “You must stay with the children. The water is too swift to allow us to cross it in the usual way.”
Anna tilted her head. “What is the usual way?”
“With a float made of buckskin,” he answered easily enough. “You stay here. Lame Bird and I will have to take the children across two at a time.”
The gaze she gave him must have communicated her confusion and she asked, “How?”
“Each child will ride a pony, my brother and I will swim alongside the animal to the other edge of the river.”
“But how will you get back for the rest of us?”
“Lame Bird and I will swim back here with one pony. Then we will take the next two children, until we are all safely across.”
“But that could take all night,” she protested.
There was a hint of humor in his eye when he admitted, “It is a good thing we have most of the evening ahead of us, is it not?”
She barely acknowledged him before she offered, “I could help. It would go faster.”
“And have you ever crossed a river as swift as this?”
The answer was more than obvious, and she remained silent.
“Hova’ahane. You will stay with the children. Someone must remain with them. Ne-nastse, come on.”
War Cloud led a pony to the edge of the river, the water’s shoreline dotted with bushes and grasses. Anna followed him, trying to think of some other way of getting across.
She said, “Could we not go upriver a bit and see if there is an easier crossing?”
War Cloud shook his head. “Scouts have been sent out and have found no ready passage across. Besides,” he said, bending to pick up one of the children and swinging him easily into his arms. He smiled good-naturedly at the youngster, as if to say that Indians forded surging rivers every day. “Besides,” he continued speaking to Anna, “there is not the time to go upriver. Warrior-whites are in Dog Soldier country, and we are not in a position to do battle with them without suffering severe losses.” He positioned the boy on the back of the animal, saying to the child, “We are going to cross this river, do you understand?”
The boy nodded.
Handing a set of buckskin reins to the boy, he said, “Your job is to hold on to the horse no matter what happens. Do not let go. Do you think you can do that?”
“I will try,” said the boy.
“E-peva’e, it is good,” said War Cloud, returning to lead a second pony to the edge of the water. Taking hold of another child, War Cloud settled the youngster on the horse in much the same manner as he had the first child.
Lastly he motioned to Lame Bird.
“You will come back,” Anna said before War Cloud stepped into the water.
“Do not doubt it.”
“No,” she said, “you misunderstand. I am telling you that you are to come back. I would have you be careful.”
He turned to her, reaching out a hand to run the backs of two fingers gently over her cheek. He said, “I will.”
“You’d better.”
He grinned and, pivoting around, urged the horses into the water.
Anna watched them with a mixture of hope and despair, refusing to take her eyes off of them until their figures were mere specks in the distance. Time passed slowly as she awaited War Cloud’s return. She could not see a thing.
It must have been close to an hour later when War Cloud and Lame Bird approached Anna and the children once more, but they came from much farther downstream.
Upon seeing them, Anna let out a deep sigh. The two of them might be soaking wet, but they were alive.
She rubbed her hands up and down her sides in nervous anticipation. “That took a long time.”
“It cannot be helped,” War Cloud responded, coming straight at her and not stopping until he had taken her in his arms. Without pause, without stopping to think, he rained one kiss after another on her lips, her cheeks, her eyes.
And she returned his passion, pulling his head down to her and covering him with kiss after kiss on his neck, his shoulders, any area of skin available to her.
His arms around her felt as though they bestowed life, and she sobbed against his shoulder, not caring that he was drenched from head to foot. She admitted, “I am scared, for you, for the children.”
“I know,” War Cloud said, “but this must be done. You must not show the children your fear. It will go better if you keep them calm.” He raised his head to send a penetrating look into her eyes.
At last he set her away from him and quickly, as though he dared not think too long about it, turned away to pick up another one of the children.
Ten pairs of wide eyes, however, stared back at both her and War Cloud. But Anna, having no ready explanation to justify what the children had witnessed, simply remained quiet.
War Cloud immediately set back to work and, after settling one child atop a fresh horse, he led another youngster to a different animal.
He said to Anna, “Perhaps you could rub down the pony that I brought back, that he might be ready to cross the stream again later.”
Anna nodded and, grabbing the buckskin reins, led the animal to a pasture of grass.
Meanwhile, War Cloud set the other child on top of the horse. He gave this youngster a grin as well and asked, “Are you ready to show me how brave you are?”
The lad responded to the encouragement and said, “I will be courageous, I promise.”
War Cloud acknowledged the boy with a simple, “Haahe,” and a smile. “The river current is strong and you must hold on tight to this horse, for he will get you to the other side. Can you do that?”
“I can,” came the young voice.
“I could help you,” volunteered Anna again, having come up beside them.
“You will stay here,” War Cloud said, unrelenting. “You will be the last to cross.” He sent Anna a cautionary glance. “Do not disobey me in this. The water is a dangerous place even for those who are experienced in the ways of this land.”
Anna pouted, but he grinned at her and changed the subject. Pointing toward the sky, he said, “Do you see those stars?” He directed her attention to the Big Dipper.
She nodded. It was practically the only constellation visible this night.
“Watch it carefully for me. When the last brother is aiming down toward the prairie, tell it to me. For that will mean that morning is coming soon.”
“All right,” she said. “Whi
ch star is the last brother?”
He showed her. “It is the end star there, the one in the handle. Do you see it?”
She did and she inclined her head.
His look at her was hungry and proud all at the same time. The feeling of affinity lasted but a few seconds before he was turning away to run back to the ponies and the children. Once more, War Cloud and Lame Bird set out across the river.
Time passed even more slowly this time, and yet, as he had before, War Cloud returned for two more children.
It took five trips and what must have been six hours before Anna noticed that the last brother was pointing directly toward the prairie. There were two children yet to swim over to the other side.
She told War Cloud as soon as he returned, “Morning will be here soon.”
Tipping his head up at an angle, he looked in the direction she showed him and commented, “We must hurry, then, for I would have us gone from here before the light of day.”
Anna, catching his gaze, looked up to him and volunteered, “I could follow you with a few of the horses that remain here. It would make it easier on you.”
“Hova’ahane. Lame Bird and I will have to return for the ponies that would still be here anyway. No, you are to stay here and guard these horses until we return.”
Anna frowned. She felt urged to get across that water as quickly as possible. What would happen when morning came? Would there be more trouble in the camp?
Unfortunately, she could not predict the future with any sort of accuracy, and the waiting seemed interminable.
Morning was dawning on the eastern horizon when War Cloud and Lame Bird at length returned for their last load.
Neither of the Indians appeared distressed, despite their intense physical effort. And though Anna espied exhaustion in War Cloud’s face, he made no mention of it. Neither did she.