by Karen Kay
Lame Bird led two riderless ponies to the water and was already crossing it on one of them when War Cloud turned to Anna.
“Ne-naestse,” he said, “come here.” He held the reins of a pony out for her, and she settled on its back with little assistance. Then War Cloud was leading her pony into the water.
He said over his shoulder, “You have done well and I am happy that you did not disobey me, for I fear,” he admitted, “that I am too tired to scold you.”
Her heart went out to him. “Thank you for what you are doing.”
The pony was in the water up to Anna’s thighs when War Cloud answered, “No thanks are needed.” He grinned at her. “I am required always to be kind to women, after all.”
She smiled back at him when suddenly the pony shifted from a walk into a full swim. Anna gasped as the pony plunged forward, leaving only its neck and head above the raging waves. Cold water encompassed her up to and above her waist. The current pushed them downstream, but War Cloud held them firmly, making sounds to the animal and shouting, “Ta-naestse!” over the roar of the water.
Anna almost lost her seat, crying when a current threatened to pull her into the stream.
“Hold tight,” came War Cloud’s command, and Anna leaned over the animal to clutch fast on to it. No sooner had she complied when War Cloud swam close to her. He pushed an arm around her waist and brought her fully back into her seat.
Anna balked as she realized how demanding this night had been for him. Still, oddly, despite his exhaustion, she felt safe and protected.
They passed through the rest of the water without further incident, and soon the pony found its footing on the rocky bottom of the river.
“E-peva’e,” he said to the animal, petting it as he led it onto the shore.
There Anna beheld all the children. War Cloud had set Collin to watch over them.
War Cloud dropped the reins of Anna’s horse and said to her, “Lame Bird and I will go back across the water to get the remaining horses, and then,” he paused, though he did not look up at her, “we will find that white settlement.”
The joy of seeing the children all safe and settled paled against another, more pressing concern and, as Anna hopped down from the horse, she said, “Do not go back. We traveled here to your village on no more than three horses, and now we have eight. It is enough.” She had come up behind War Cloud and no matter that the children watched, she placed her hand on his shoulder. “Please stay here.”
He turned his head toward her touch. “We will make better time and it will be easier on us all if we have all the horses. Lame Bird and I have gone across the water too many times for it to be dangerous. I would have my remaining ponies.”
“Please, don’t,” she pleaded again, but it was no use. He would have his way about this and taking one of the more rested mounts, he and Lame Bird set out for the other side.
She had a bad feeling about it, but short of taking the man hostage and refusing to let him leave, what could she do?
Anna turned away and pivoted back toward the children, scrutinizing each one. Most of the darlings were dry, she found; a few of the more recent ones to cross the river, however, were still damp, and Anna set about drying them.
Already the sky was growing light in the east, causing Anna worry. But she tried to calm herself; what danger could there be? War Cloud and Lame Bird were Cheyenne; they would come to no harm in the crossing.
The series of shots came as a surprise.
At the sound, panic swept through her and looking quickly back across the water, Anna surmised the reason why. Soldiers and Pawnee scouts swarmed over the Cheyenne encampment.
Dear God, had War Cloud and Lame Bird reached the other side? Please, dear Lord, please don’t let it be so.
“Miss Wiley,” one of the children asked, “are War Cloud and Lame Bird going to be all right?”
Anna’s throat felt so tight, she could hardly speak. As it was, she could barely make out the shapes of the horses at the water’s edge, confirming that neither War Cloud nor Lame Bird had reached those animals yet.
Could it be that upon hearing the shots, they’d scrambled back across the water? Or would they do that?
If their people were under attack, would they not be inclined to…
Dear Lord, War Cloud and Lame Bird would try to help their own people!
Explosions, gunshots, the neighing of horses, as well as the screaming of women and children, split through the morning air. Even from here, Anna could smell the gunpowder and could sense the utter fright in the air.
She froze. She cared about these people. She did not know why. But she did.
Though she and the children were white, no one in that camp had hurt them, at least not once she and the children had reached that tepee. Given the same circumstances, would they have been treated as well if they had been Indians coming into a white man’s town?
She had to rescue these people. She had to help her men.
She glanced at Collin and felt a moment of camaraderie, for he seemed to understand.
Collin said, “Go to them. I will watch everyone here. We will hide until you return.” He placed the reins of one of the animals in her hands. “I have been watching War Cloud and Lame Bird come and go across the water. The current carries them downstream, that way.” He pointed. “You should find them somewhere down there. Be careful.”
She squinted her eyes against the morning sun and said, “I will.”
The battle raged off in the distance, but closer to the shore, she could see several women and children venture into the stream. Soldiers chased them, shooting at them, but amazingly enough, the women and children kept going, kept running.
Holding tight to the mane of her pony, Anna swam toward the other side of the river as fast as she could. Perhaps she could carry some of those women and children with her back over the river. She had to try.
As she approached the shoreline, she became aware of two figures fighting off the advance of the soldiers while the harried women and children fell into the river.
War Cloud and Lame Bird!
Anna had never witnessed, much less been in the midst of, a battle until this moment, and she would never forget it; the sounds of the shooting, the explosions, the screaming, the utter fear. Nor would she ever forget—or even come to terms with—the terror that twisted its way into her gut. A shot rang out close to her; she saw a woman with a child drop.
Dear Lord, the soldiers were shooting women and children!
War Cloud advanced upon the man who had done it, War Cloud having no weapon but his knife, for his gun would still be wet.
Anna cried out, but her wail could not be heard over the noise of battle. She screamed over and over, watching as War Cloud battled the soldiers.
In truth, Anna had never been so relieved for the incompetence of the military as she was at that moment; for the soldier missed War Cloud completely, though her hero approached the man as though he were unafraid of the bullets. And then the two became locked in hand-to-hand combat.
But she could not simply stand and watch. Forcing her pony to follow her, she gained her way to the shore, there to be met with a terrified woman and her children. She wanted to go to War Cloud’s aid; she desperately needed to ensure he remained alive, yet she knew that she could not do that.
Gazing one last time at War Cloud, she knew what she must do, and pushing the pony into the midst of the fleeing Indians, she said, “Come on,” using gestures to communicate.
Setting the horse back into the water, she swam beside the woman and her children, much as War Cloud had done with her, guiding the animal through the tempestuous water and toward the other shore.
Once they reached the shoreline on the other side, she tried to communicate with hand motions to the woman that there were other horses not far away.
“Take them,” she said. “Take them and run far away from here.”
Despite the language problems, the woman seemed to understa
nd, for she headed off in that direction, and Anna, hugging her poor pony’s head, encouraged the animal back into the water.
Most of the women and children were already braving the river, despite its current, but Anna was able to help another party across the water.
War Cloud still fought, defending the flight of the women and children. Presently he was joined by a few other warriors who had escaped the village and were now keeping the soldiers back, thus allowing their families to flee.
But their plight appeared grave, for soldiers poured out of the village. Even as the last few women made their way to the shore, the men followed, scrambling after them and taking a stand, fighting a hasty retreat.
Soldiers pressed down on War Cloud and Lame Bird. Their situation looked desperate, unless… Anna had an idea.
“War Cloud! Lame Bird!” she called out. “This way!”
Did he hear her? And if he did hear, would he know to come to her? Would he trust her, a white woman, at a time like this?
“Nahkohe-tseske, ase-sta’xestse!”
She had no idea what he had said, but she knew one thing. “I am not leaving without you.”
“Ne-ve’neheseve! Ase-sta ‘xestse!”
“I have a horse. Hurry, we can get away.”
Both older and younger brother glanced around them, as though to take stock of how the fight went. What did they see? Anna could only hope that, with no more women and children streaming from the village, the two brothers would decide to leave.
She watched in nervous wonder as both War Cloud and Lame Bird began a retreat toward the water.
“Come!” she said, holding the reins of the pony and forcing it to be still as she stood beside it. “Come! Run hard! You can make it!”
War Cloud caught up to her. “Ta-naestse! Go on!” he said in English as though only now realizing that he had been speaking in Cheyenne. “We will follow.”
She did not wait for another command. Setting the horse into the water and bringing her men with her, she set out across the river, swimming by the pony’s side. A stray bullet whizzed past them, followed by two more shots, and then nothing.
Was it over?
Anna glanced back as War Cloud and Lame Bird guided the pony across the water. The Indian camp was completely destroyed. Even from her far vantage point, she could see the raging fires destroying the once graceful Indian village.
Over the thunder of the water, she asked War Cloud, “What happened?”
War Cloud, swimming behind her, peered back toward the shore before returning his glance to her. And in his eyes she glimpsed such a look of despair, she knew she would never forget this moment.
“I fear,” he shouted to be heard over the water, “that my people should have crossed the river in the night, as we did. Had they done this, they would not have been taken by surprise. I do not want to think what this will mean. This was the last of the Dog Soldier camps.”
Anna did not know what to say, either, silence seeming to be the only option.
At some length, she said, “There were several women and children who escaped. I saw what you and Lame Bird were doing, holding off the soldiers so they could get away. That was very brave of you.”
He shrugged.
And she urged, “Let us go to the children and be away from here as quickly as we can. I do not see any of the soldiers following us across the river. Perhaps we will make it over there safely after all.”
“Perhaps.”
It was all he said.
Chapter Twenty-One
They found the women and children—those who had managed to struggle across the water—with their own band of young renegades. Most of the women and children sat, staring at the ground, shivering. No one spoke. Now and again, one of the women let out a wail.
War Cloud took command at once. “Ne-ve’-ea’xaame,” he said to the women. Then in English to Anna, “We will take these few Cheyenne women and children with us.”
“Yes,” she said.
“Maybe,” he commented, as he rubbed down one of the ponies, “we will have to go all the way to the land of the Sioux before we will be able to find a white settlement.”
Anna nodded as she began to throw blankets onto the ponies’ backs, but she did not voice a word. It was not so much what he said as what he left unsaid that bothered her.
Was he, too, trying to invent reasons why the two of them should remain together? If they did not marry—and from War Cloud’s viewpoint, they must not—sooner or later they were going to have to part.
She did not want to think about it. Curse or no curse, duty or no duty, Anna was not certain she wanted to leave War Cloud.
But, she reminded herself, she had time to consider these things; lots of time. For now, she had best put these thoughts behind her, because these women and children were going to need help, if their party were to leave this place and remain ahead of the soldiers.
Soon, they had set off once more across the prairie, the children and women protected by no more than one desperate man, one Indian boy and one white one.
She had been wrong, she decided. She would not have time to ponder her situation.
Two days later, their bedraggled party rested at the crest of a hill, overlooking the rolling line of a wagon train. Stretching out to the horizon, the oxen-pulled prairie schooners crawled across the land, their inhabitants completely unaware that a party of women and children, plus two Indian males watched them.
At the sight, Anna’s spirits plummeted.
But she should feel joyous, shouldn’t she? Well, shouldn’t she?
After all, this wagon train could be the answer to her prayers. Here, before them, was a white camp. It could mean that she might at last be able to fulfill her duty to the society and to these children, for it was almost a certainty that there would be some good people down there who would be only too happy to take the children.
But at what price? She stole a glance at War Cloud. Was she really prepared to leave him? Never to see him again?
Anna squared her shoulders even as the thought crossed her mind. Did it matter? Hers was a specific duty to these children and to War Cloud. She had given both of them her word of honor; she had no time for her own selfish desires as to what she wished and did not wish.
And yet…
As she wistfully gazed down at those wagons, winds blew up from the west, blowing her hair back from her face and outlining her clothing against her body. War Cloud had come to stand next to her. And though he did not touch her, his hair, whipping in the wind, lightly grazed her shoulders, the silky strands mimicking his own potent caress.
Though faint, the brush of those locks set off tiny explosions all along her nerves, and Anna shivered in response, remembering another time when she had dared to run her fingers through this man’s dark mane. It seemed so long ago.
Without looking at her, he commented, “My people tell me that they will not go down to those wagons.”
Anna turned her head to acknowledge him. Holding a hand over her forehead and squinting up at him, she said, “I do not blame them.” Staring at him one moment more, she reminded herself of what she must say to this man. Her heart beat heavily in her chest and she determinedly looked away. She blinked once before she said, “The children and I will be fine from here. War Cloud, I…I…”
“Think you that I would have you and the children go down there alone? We do not know what awaits you there. Until I am certain that you and the children will be safe, I will accompany you. My brother will stay here with my people and protect them until you and the children are taken in by those people and I am convinced that you will be treated well. After, I will return here.”
She would not have to leave him now? Anna’s throat constricted and she shifted her face away from him so that he would not see the rush of emotion across it. Staring back down at the long line of billowing white wagons, she found it almost impossible to speak.
After all, what did a person say to a man like War Cl
oud; a man who had not only saved her life, but was the only man she had ever known intimately? A man whom, in less than a few hours, she would never see again? What words could possibly express her sense of gratitude, her loss?
Alas, she found herself unable to utter a thing, and so she contented herself with doing no more than staring away from him.
“We will wait until darkness,” he said, his voice deep, though tightly controlled. And somehow Anna found herself nodding agreement.
Truly, she could do no more than that.
By the time the sun threw its reddish-gold rays over the land, Anna had bathed each child. The Indian women had helped her, though they did not withhold their puzzlement over why these children could not bathe themselves.
Anna tried to explain with signs that if she did not do this task for them, the children would miss cleansing important areas of the body—like behind the ears and under their arms. Nor would they necessarily wash their hair.
And she would have each child looking his best. Their very futures depended on it.
Too soon, it was time to begin the trip down to the wagons. Anna had bathed herself, of course, but she had given up trying to tie her hair up into its customary severe knot.
Darn it all, she did not know why she was making such a fuss over herself. She would have to go as she was. It would hardly matter, she decided.
What would those people think, she wondered, upon seeing her come into their camp with so many children? What would they think of the handsome Indian man who accompanied her? And with she, herself, dressed only in her chemise and petticoats?
Would the white people applaud or crucify her?
Startled, Anna realized her mistake and backed up to that thought. White people? Not her own people? Had Anna begun to think and act like an Indian, too?
Perhaps that was not such a bad thing, but when had she changed?
Standing high on a hill, Anna reflected on that, watching as the wagons stopped and drew together into a circle, which, of course, would be their nightly ritual to protect against attacks.
War Cloud had been suspiciously absent throughout the day, Anna had noticed. But he approached her now and with a curt nod, asked simply, “Ready?”