by Karen Kay
Anna straightened her spine. It occurred to her that she might never be ready to leave this man. But she could hardly tell him this. Not when he remained so adamant about returning her to her people. And so she said, “We are.”
He acknowledged her with a slight jerk of his head, and setting out on foot, he guided them toward the wagons, leading ten of the children sitting atop four ponies. Collin and Anna pulled up the rear.
Even from this distance, with fiddles and harmonicas filling the air with music, Anna experienced a fleeting desire to sway to their rhythm. It had been so long since she had heard anything like it.
She carried Patty on her hip, the youngster looking more drawn and skinny than Anna had ever seen her. In truth, Anna was concerned for the young girl, but she kept a smile on her face as Patty stated, “I don’t want to go down there.”
Anna brushed her fingers through the girl’s long, straggly hair and kissed the top of her head. “Everything’s going to be fine now.”
Patty moaned, the sound of despair in her tone disconcerting to Anna. Patty said, “What if no one wants me this time, too?”
Anna’s breath caught and her heartbeat must have increased tenfold, for she could hear it in her ears. It never failed to happen. As they’d journeyed across this country, there had been many times when certain children were not “chosen.” And each time a child was left behind, Anna felt his or her hurt as though it were her own.
Perhaps it was that hurt that made it difficult for Anna to answer Patty with an instant rebuttal, for Anna’s stomach felt as though it had lodged in her throat. At length, she said, “Shhh, calm yourself. There will be so many people who will want you, they will have to fight over you. Do not fear.”
Patty, however, would not be stilled and she cried, “But none of the others wanted me.”
Anna felt as though she might cry, too. Her voice trembled as she said, “That’s not completely true. I have always wanted you.”
“You do?”
Anna could feel Patty’s tears, there against her shoulder and, placing the child’s head in the crook of her neck, Anna said, “Remember when you wanted to stay with me and War Cloud forever?”
The youngster nodded and hiccuped at the same time.
Anna gulped in a breath of air and plunged in where perhaps she should have been more cautious. However, she affirmed, “We want you, Patty.”
Big brown eyes set in a too thin face stared back at Anna. “You do?” came the high-pitched question once again.
Anna tried once more to hold back her tears and, pressing her lips together to fight off the urge, she said, “Yes, we do. But first let’s see if we can find a good home for you here, shall we? After all, you would not want to grow up as an Indian, would you?”
Patty placed her arms around Anna’s neck and hugged. “I would not mind being Indian. And you know what? I hope no one down there wants me. Then I can stay with you and War Cloud forever. I love you, Miss Wiley.”
Anna bit her lip. Truly, she tried to keep her composure. But it was no use. This time Anna cried. And sniffling, she said to the youngster, “I love you, too, Patty. I love you, too.”
Hugging the child tightly and being hugged back in return, Anna realized the truth of her declaration. Silently, she said a prayer for the child, for herself, for War Cloud, even as tears fell over her cheeks.
While the people on the wagon train cast suspicious glances at War Cloud, they welcomed Anna and the children into their camp openly, with shouts and outbursts of joy.
Food and water appeared before them as though conjured up by a magician’s wand. No one asked a question, not even when it became evident that most were curious as to what Anna was doing in the middle of the prairie with all these children and one Indian. And while she and the children accepted their hospitality heartily, Anna kept looking around her, scrutinizing the faces in the crowd for a dark one with very long, black hair.
She found him some distance away from her, staring back at her, arms crossed over his chest.
He wouldn’t leave her without saying good-bye, would he?
Anna related her story in brief to these people, accepted their congratulations and their compliments regarding her bravery. But her mind was occupied elsewhere. Once again, she cast a look in War Cloud’s direction.
Thunder sounded in the distance, but it barely made an impression on Anna. Laughing, pretending interest in a witticism directed at her, Anna arose and said, “Excuse me, won’t you please?”
“Certainly.” “Of course,” came the round of voices.
Anna trod off in the direction of the lone Indian. She picked up the hem of her skirt, glancing down at it at the same time. These were new clothes, at least new to her. Someone had lent her a shawl; another woman had given her an outer coat and dress, and Anna had accepted them graciously, but at this moment all she longed for was War Cloud’s arms about her.
She approached him slowly and as she did so, she kept her eyes fastened on his, each step she took carefully calculated so as not to draw too much attention to herself. He watched her closely as well, and she could not help but wonder what he was thinking.
Did he, too, regret their parting? Did his heart ache for her as much as hers was aching for him? She hoped so. Somehow, she did not want to experience this hurt all alone.
Presently, she drew level with him. “Has anyone given you trouble?” she wanted to know.
He shook his head, but made no further response.
Once again, she asked, “Has anyone inquired how you came to be mixed up with us?”
He looked away from her before replying, “I pretend I do not understand English. It makes my being here simpler.”
“I see,” she said. “Well, I for one have told them how you and your brother saved me and the children, and I must say that you are regarded as something of a hero.”
He raised his shoulders briefly, as if to say it was nothing.
She stared at him but fell silent, as did he. In the background Anna was aware of laughter, of happiness and of the warmth of fellowship. As another round of thunder rolled across the sky, she disregarded the noise; it was simply an accompaniment to this moment with War Cloud. At length, Anna observed, “All of the children except two have new parents and new homes.”
He gave her a curt nod. “This is good.”
“Yes, it is,” she replied. “This wagon train is going to Oregon. There the children will have a new start on life. It is a very good thing.”
As he listened, War Cloud lifted his head and repositioned his arms over his chest. Hesitating briefly, he asked, “And you?”
“I…I don’t know. As I said, there are still two children left who have not been chosen by any of the families. If I cannot find homes for them here, I must go somewhere else.” She glanced away from him, out into the night. “I know it is selfish of me to ask, but if, by any chance, I cannot find homes for these last two, could you…ah…”
Why could she not outright ask him? Was it because his answer was too dear to her? Or was it simply because she feared his response?
He did not wait for her to finish and he said, “I found some Lakota scouts with this party. They have agreed to take my people north as soon as these wagons move on.”
Anna did not comment and he did not look at her as he said, “I told these scouts that I would accompany them.”
“Oh,” she said, “I see.”
He glanced down at her, but she would not return his gaze. She did not wish him to look into her eyes; he might see too much.
But perhaps he did not need to observe her directly to know her thoughts, for he sucked in his breath and said, “But I would not have you travel across the prairie alone. If you cannot place these two children into homes, I will take you to another white town.”
Anna sent him a hurried glance. “You would?”
He nodded. “I would.”
Odd that her mood should depend on the whims and decisions of this one man. Stil
l, there was no use denying it. Anna felt her spirits lift, and for the first time this evening, she experienced a real desire to smile.
He said, “The Cheyenne women and children told me what you did for them at the soldier fight. They told me how you swam with them across the river, helping them to escape.”
Anna did not know what, if anything, to say, but she was saved the effort, for War Cloud continued, “That was a brave thing that you did.”
Anna turned her face aside. “I would not see them die. The soldiers were little more than bullies, shooting at women and children who had no means to protect themselves. It was hardly fair.”
War Cloud inhaled deeply before commenting, “You are a good woman.”
“Thank you.”
But he was not finished and he carried on, saying, “I regret that my actions have made you less pure in body than you are in spirit.”
Anna froze. Regret? Impure?
How could he say such a thing? It was simply not true. Especially when the memory of their time together brought Anna such happiness. Nothing, she decided, not anything that filled her soul with so many good emotions could ever be wrong. Did he not feel it, too?
Regret? No, never would she regret what had happened between them. She would treasure her memories of that time always.
As she thought of what she might say to him, she drew her brows together and said, “I disagree.”
He frowned.
“I feel more pure now than I did before we met. Mister War Cloud, I feel I can safely say from experience that a person is not quite whole until he has experienced love from another. No, you may regret what took place between us, but I never will. I…I will cherish it.”
Having said what was on her mind, she pivoted away from him, presenting him with her back. She had to; she could not bear to see his response.
But he reached out to touch her, the light brush of his fingers keeping her from leaving. He said, “Know that if there were no curse, if there were not so many risks, if things were different between us…”
She let out a small cry.
“Little Bear!” He pulled her into his arms, the outline of his body firm against the backside of her own. His head came down against her hair and she heard him drag in his breath, as though he gloried in the joy of inhaling her fragrance. His lips nuzzled her neck. “Little Bear, know that I—”
“I seen that Injun somewhere around here.” Behind them came the voice of one of the settlers.
“Damn!” Stepping back, War Could dropped his arms from around her, and Anna glanced down at the ground.
War Cloud’s curse word echoed her own thoughts, she decided as she brought up her hands to chafe her upper arms. She would give almost anything at this moment to simply declare herself tied to this man…forever.
Two men came up behind them, but Anna chose to ignore them, as did War Cloud.
Turning around, Anna took a deep breath to steady her voice and asked as casually as she might, “Tell me, have you had anything to eat?”
She watched as he shrugged. “The white man is not so ready to share his food with an Indian, and I am not quite willing to eat from his hand, either. I will hunt in the morning and I will eat then.”
Anna frowned. “But you must be hungry.”
“It is nothing,” he said, and then, still neglecting the white men who watched him from the side, added, “Little Bear, know that I would have things different if only I—”
She coughed, sweeping her glance in the direction of the men who were eavesdropping. She asked War Cloud in a voice perhaps too loud, “Would you have something to eat if I brought it to you?”
“I might.”
“Then,” she said, “wait here while I go and get you some food.” And without so much as one more word, she spun around and trod off in the direction of the cook.
“Damn!” she muttered to herself as a tear fell over her cheek. But she would not brush it away. Too many eyes might see it.
What had she gained by her admission to War Cloud? A few more days with him, maybe a week or two.
There was going to come a day, however, when she would no longer be able to think of excuses to keep him with her. And then what would she do?
She would think of something, she decided. She would have to think of something…
The music of the fiddles, played against a background of thunder, etched its way into her soul as Anna stood on the sidelines and watched the dance. Men and women from the wagon train twirled around the ground, which had been set up as though for a ball. She recognized the steps of lively jigs, of waltzes and of quadrilles. She watched, too, as the people gossiped and laughed with one another. She stood among them as though a part of them, and yet not.
No one had asked her to dance.
Earlier in the evening, Anna had ensured that the children had been safety tucked into bed, most having new homes and new parents to fuss over them. It had been a happy time, yet sad. Happy that they had found homes; sad that she was going to have to leave them. Truthfully, Anna had felt pulled in two directions.
Plus, she had a worse problem: Patty and Collin.
Poor youngsters. No one had wanted to take Patty or Collin into their lives.
It was not as if something were wrong with the two of them—not really. It was only that given their physical difficulties, those two had been looked upon as more liability than asset. Collin with his limp might or might not be able to produce a hard day’s labor on a farm; Patty, because she looked more skin and bones than child, appeared too close to death’s door. Patty would need a great amount of nursing before she could be of any use around the house, if she survived.
Anna had not informed either of them of this fact, however. She had merely tucked them into bed same as she did every night. She had assured herself that in the next town, things would be different.
Still, Anna had cried. Would it really be different?
She had left the two children to sleep, had been intent upon doing that herself, when she had discovered the excitement: there was to be a dance.
A dance. My goodness, she had thought, how she would love to dance.
As a sign of goodwill, a few of the women in the wagon train had lent Anna some fancier clothing, so that she might be able to go to it properly dressed. But Anna had to admit, once she had donned the finery, the effect was not a particularly pleasing one. She was simply too tall, and the dresses they had lent her fell too short.
But she dared not take the dress off, for she had only her chemise and petticoats. She could not go to a party that way.
And her hair? Well, the women had helped her to put it up again into its familiar knot at the back of her neck. But was that attractive on her? She did not think so.
And why should she care? Never had she agonized so much about her appearance.
Maybe, she thought, it might be because out on the prairie, with War Cloud beside her, Anna had felt pretty. He had even told her she was beautiful. And there had been a time when she had believed him.
But perhaps she had believed him too soon. Certainly she was no Cinderella.
No one had asked her to dance.
She could not really blame them; her height put men off.
But the music haunted her. Oh, how she wanted to dance.
No one would know it, though, she determined. Pride would prevent her from making her feelings known. And so, pasting a smile on her face; she stood apart from the others, watching, waiting, hoping.
Soon, she would leave, but it was still too early to do so. After all, the dance had barely begun and was being given in her honor. Besides, maybe the threatening storm would come and she would be saved the effort of making an excuse to leave.
In the meantime, she would simply have to watch the others…and dream.
Because no one had asked her to dance.
Chapter Twenty-Two
War Cloud stood at the edge of the promenade and watched as the white people demonstrated their own brand
of dancing. He remembered seeing this kind of entertainment when he had briefly scouted for the army. He had even learned how to do it once.
But that had been a long time ago.
Where was she?
She should be out there in the center of the dancing, being honored by her people. For she was the true hero.
His eyes scanned the many dancers, but there was one that he could not find: she who haunted his dreams.
She simply was not there.
Perhaps he should go and find her. He glanced away, out toward the outer edges of the dancing. Where could she have gone?
His eyes grazed over a tall figure, there on the sidelines, skimmed over her and went on, only to return. Anna? Was this his own Anna?
He barely recognized her. He had become so used to seeing her with her hair falling about her shoulders and in her pretty, though fairly revealing garb, that he had forgotten how badly the white man’s own kind of clothing fit her.
Her face was still tanned from her many hours in the sun, and he knew, if he approached her, that her green eyes would sparkle in that special way that she had when she looked at him. But someone had dressed her and had put her hair up in a fashion that did not compliment her.
Still, what did it matter? Hers was a spirit that was indomitable. Hers was a nature that was pure and was kind. What difference her style of clothing?
That was when it struck him. These people were ignoring her. Why?
She was the heroine, not them. She should be the first one and perhaps the only one dancing, being honored.
His eyes narrowed as he watched her face. He recognized her smile as one that was strained and he knew her well enough to realize that beneath her outward composure, this woman hurt. Was she grieving because she was not out there stepping to the music along with the others?
Unlike Indian dancing, War Cloud was aware that the white man’s way required a partner. Was no one willing to accompany this wonderful woman?
Anger stirred within him.
What was wrong with a people who could not see how magnificent his Anna was? Could they not look past the ill-fitting clothes and unbecoming hair to the woman herself? Could they not see the beauty that was his own Nahkohe-tseske?