Running back out to the front of the house, she looked down the valley toward Lars’s and her dad’s but couldn’t see anyone coming yet. Where was everyone this morning? She’d seen hands out working just fifteen minutes ago on her way here!
Impatiently, she ran back into the house for the rifle and made three shots again. Come on, people! Going back out to the barn, she checked Lije’s heartbeat again, made sure his head had stopped bleeding, and tried one more time to rouse him. This time, he opened his eyes a sliver, groaned and grimaced and then was out again. At least that was an improvement over the last time.
She left him there and went back to the house, frustrated out of her head that no one was rushing to help her. There, far down the lane, she could see horses coming her way, but they weren’t racing the way she wanted them to be. Shaking her head in disgust, she went back in the house, scribbled a note explaining everything and left it on the table. The urgency she was feeling was making her crazy!
Grasping the flour sack full of supplies and Lije’s rifle, she went outside, stuffed the bag into her saddle bag, stowed the rifle in the scabbard and leapt onto her horse, heading out following the tracks the Indian had made. The men could see to Lije and follow her. Somebody needed to be on the trail of Brekka and the Indian immediately!
Once the trail led out of the thick trees, she kicked her horse up to a trot. As she rode, she prayed, over and over in her mind, like a mantra begging for divine help to keep her family safe this day.
Lije opened his eyes and squinted all around. “Heidi?” She was just here a second ago. Groaning, he struggled to sit up and then groaned again. His head was splitting! That cursed Indian. He had to get to Brekka! He knew he did, he just couldn’t get the world to stop spinning to do it.
Somehow, he already knew she wouldn’t be in the house when he got there. Neither was Heidi and he wondered if he’d imagined that she’d been there with him in the barn. Then he saw her note on the table and swore under his breath. What had she been thinking riding out after them? As quickly as he could with the world still spinning, he got his gear. His rifle was missing, so he took Brekka’s and caught up the steel dust.
Climbing aboard, he took a firm grip on the saddle horn and wheeled the horse around the corner of the house. The world spun even faster up this high and looking down for the tracks made him sick. Shaking his head, he started to pray as he frantically looked for the trail he needed to follow. Heidi had said they’d left from the grove. At least the trail of three horses would be easier to follow than two.
Lars had thought Kristina was beautiful last night, but she was even lovelier this morning after bathing the dust off and a night’s rest. He’d also thought she was seemingly kind last night, but this morning, he wasn’t quite as sure. First, she’d sent her morning coffee back to the kitchen to be reheated, not once, but twice. Then, when her father had casually mentioned that she might want to switch out her fancy scarlet feathered hat for a more serviceable sunbonnet, she had completely ignored his logic and given him a flippant answer about there being clouds overhead and therefore no need for a sunbonnet anyway.
Lars rolled his eyes as he loaded their copious luggage into the wagon. The pretty ones were always spoiled and petulant. He’d figured that out in his twenty-four years. With an eye to the sky, he motioned for Josh to help him unroll the big canvas tarpaulin from under the seat to cover the load. He left a generous fold of it rolled just behind the seat and then bought two extra slickers at the general store just in case. Kristina’s fancy scarlet feathered hat would most likely be reduced to resemble a drowned canary if he was any judge of the weather.
Still, when he helped her up onto the wagon seat, she gave him a brilliant smile very reminiscent of Brekka’s and it made him consider. Brekka had been raised in the same circumstances as Kristina, and she certainly hadn’t ever been anything other than hard working and appreciative. Maybe he just needed to watch and learn where Kristina Toft was concerned.
By sundown that night, when she’d ridden for more than twelve hours through dust and rain and even wind, with only one complaint, he conceded that she had done remarkable well for the daughter of a Danish noble. For that matter, the Danish noble had done remarkably well himself. Even Lars was exhausted and he was used to long days and inclement weather.
They pulled into his father’s yard behind a team that was done in and Lars looked around, waiting for Heidi to come flying out the door in a burst of exuberance, but she never appeared. Even his father didn’t come out and no hands were in sight. Lars looked at Josh in concern and asked, “Where do you suppose everyone is?”
Josh looked just as concerned and said, “I’ll go see if I can find out. Have you got these two, okay?”
Absently mindedly handing Kristina down from the seat, Lars said, “Yeah, yeah, we’re good here. Go check things out and let me know, would you?”
As Josh spun his horse and galloped away, Lars said to August Toft, “I’m sorry sir. I’m not sure where our welcome party is, but let’s get you settled in and let you relax, shall we?”
Inside the house, Lars helped deliver their luggage. He looked in the kitchen where there was at least a pot of soup somewhat warm on the stove and he set out bowls and a fresh loaf of bread and butter and then went to find their visitors. At the open door to Kristina’s room, he asked, “Do you want me to bring you some hot water for a bath tonight?”
She shook her now hatless head with the white blonde hair that so closely resembled her sister’s and said, “No thank you, Mr. Lauritzen. Honestly, I’m too tired to even bathe this evening. But I could die for something to eat. And I want to see my sister.”
He grinned at her. “Death isn’t necessary. There’s soup on the table. It isn’t fancy, but it’s delicious and filling. And fresh bread and butter with it. After you eat, we’ll run up and see your sister.”
Kristina dramatically closed her eyes and sighed and said, “That’s all a girl needs, isn’t it? Food and family. Heaven. Right here on earth. Lead the way and we’ll gather up Father as we go.”
Once they were eating at the table, Lars said, “I’m sorry to leave you, but something isn’t right here and I need to go investigate. I can’t imagine why my father and sister weren’t here to greet you. That is very unlike either of them. Please, make yourself at home and I’ll be back as soon as possible to take you to Brekka.”
He met Josh stepping onto the porch as he came out the door. His steely face wasn’t encouraging.
Far away to the north, Brekka’s labor pains were coming faster and were painful enough that she sometimes couldn’t stop herself from groaning. White Stone had been alternating between trotting and then loping the horses for what felt like years, but in actuality, Brekka knew she’d lost all track of time. She tried to look for the sun to see what time of day it was, but all she noticed was that somehow the sky had become overcast and threatening and that it was going to rain soon.
She groaned again and closed her eyes. She’d thought nothing could make her more miserable, but she’d been wrong. She was wearing only a thin cotton nightgown and she’d soon be wet to the skin. No sooner did she think that than she felt a stream of warm liquid gush out of her and soak the Indian blanket beneath her. For a second, she didn’t understand and then she realized her water had just broken and it made tears start into her eyes again. Who needed the rain to become miserably wet?
Almost immediately her contractions ramped up to a point where they literally took her breath away when they came and she tried to pray again instead of thinking of how impossible this situation was. She needed to get off this horse, but she knew from experience that no amount of begging or pleading would cause White Stone to show even a bit of mercy. She just had to keep praying and trust that God would see her and her child through this.
Just then, there was a great gust of wind and it made her chill instantly because of her wet nightgown. For several minutes the wind gusted fiercely and she knew rain was i
mminent. For once, she hated a storm. Every new twist to this situation only made her more miserable.
Ahead of her, White Stone seemed unfazed by the weather, in spite of the fact that he was wearing a loin cloth that appeared to be only two small pieces of leather. He began looking this way and that and she wondered what he was doing. Whatever it was, she dreaded it.
While riding was horribly uncomfortable and she desperately needed to get off, in a way she also dreaded them stopping because then she would be facing White Stone’s fierce temper or worse. Even pregnant and dirty and rumpled, he still looked at her with that horrible leer that traveled over her body and left little question about what he was thinking.
The rain hit, and it chilled her even further. Feeling her skin form goose bumps, she glanced down and realized in horror that her white cotton nightgown had suddenly become nearly sheer. Not only did it reveal her body underneath, it also revealed that she was carrying the derringer, and with her hands tied, she was helpless to do anything about either. At least a few minutes later the last of the braid that had been holding her hair back was destroyed by the rain and locks of her hair falling onto her chest hid a little of her bosom exposed by the wet gown. Still, she feared for her safety once White Stone let her off the horse.
Glancing again at the little gun, she could only hope that he didn’t discover it and that it would stay dry enough that it would fire if she ever got a chance to use it.
They’d been riding in the rain long enough that her teeth were chattering uncontrollably when the Ute pulled their horses under the overhang of a wall of stone. It didn’t shield them from the wind, but at least for the time being they were out of the rain. Getting off his horse, the brave tied both horses to a nearby bush and then walked away into the rain out of the overhang. For just a moment, Brekka considered kicking her horse to see if she could make it break free and run away, but knew she couldn’t try to get away as long as she couldn’t get herself off this horse.
A couple of minutes later, White Stone stalked back into the overhang dragging a dead cedar tree and proceeded to try to start a fire. He was using a flint, and his wood was wet and it felt like an eternity with her both shivering violently and contracting in horrible pain as she watched him. By the time there was a tiny puff of smoke, she was in too much misery to even care if he got a fire going.
When it began to take hold of some larger pieces of wood and crackle, White Stone approached her, still with that self satisfied leer and if she’d have been able to shrink away from him, she definitely would have. As it was, she could only grit her chattering teeth and try not to groan aloud as he untied her hands and feet, dragged her from the horse and flung her roughly to the ground. The impact knocked the air from her chest and in abject misery, she lay there gasping for air and shivering. At least she didn’t think he’d seen the derringer.
With that thought in mind, she forced her stiff fingers to search for the opening to her sodden pocket and miraculously, the little gun slid into her hand. It was even in position and she gripped it determinedly. She doubted she would get more than one chance to defend herself with it.
She could hear him approaching her and moved her eyes to peek through her dripping hair to gauge what his intentions were. He was coming, evil in his face, and she knew it was time. Turning slightly to face him, she drew the tiny gun, extended it and pulled the trigger. The shot caught him high on his right chest.
Fury erupted on his face and he lunged for her just as she pulled the trigger a second time. That shot went wild and hit him in his left side just above his hip. Brekka only had time to realize she’d failed in killing him and that she and her child would die now before he struck her a mighty blow across the face. Then everything went black.
White Stone struck the girl again, even though he knew she couldn’t feel it, and then in compete disgust looked down at the two bullet holes she’d just put in him and cursed violently. Blood ran down his chest and hip, mixing with rain already there and he cursed again. Two! Two wounds spouting his life’s blood and him here in the middle of this wildest of mountains with no medicine bag and no one to help him get one!
For good measure, he turned and kicked the girl and then winced as the wound near his hip flooded with pain. Leaning down, he gripped the girls dress and with a jerk, ripped a section off the bottom. He wadded it to stuff into the wound at his shoulder and inhaled sharply at the bite of pain. The gods must hate him! And all of this for nothing! He looked down at the girl again. Her shining hair was nothing but a dripping tangle and she lay there, muddy and all but lifeless, hardly even shivering anymore.
When the first wad of fabric wouldn’t stop either wound from bleeding, he tore another piece from the dress, wrapped in a blanket from one of the horses and went to sit down by the fire. He didn’t feel so good and leaned his head on his bare knees. Why did the gods hate him? Why had it gone bad again this time? He’d done the ceremonies. He’d prepared. He’d been searching for twelve moons. Why did they hate him?
Heidi was walking her horse through a seemingly endless hillside of cedars, struggling to discern the rapidly washing out trail in the rain when she heard the gunshots. Two, just a second or two apart and she jumped like she’d been the one shot. She tried to gauge how far away they’d been, but in the rain and storm it was hard to tell. A mile? Maybe two? Fear and hope warred within her. Had the Indian killed Brekka, or had she killed him?
At any rate, they were close enough that she knew she could find them, even if the trail washed out. She pulled her horse under a cedar with her back to the cold wind and began searching all around, looking for movement or anything that might help her find Brekka. Where in tarnation were the hands? If she were honest, she could admit she was terrified to be out here alone with a savage Indian and Brekka and the baby’s life in her hands. She did not have a hero’s heart, that was for sure. She’d much rather have been home cooking and sewing. But she’d die before she’d let Brekka and the baby be stolen by that monster.
She scanned all the way around her, studying each rock and tree and arroyo and wash, looking for a sign, but saw nothing. The wind swirled and a gust carrying drops of rain blown from the tree above her blew into her face. Shivering, she pulled her slicker tighter around her and looked up to scan the stormy sky. It didn’t look like the storm was going to be letting up anytime soon.
It took her a moment or two of looking at the clouds, before she realized that, that column of cloud wasn’t a column of cloud at all. It was a column of smoke, coming out of the shallow canyon to the east. Her heart quickened. That fire was probably where Brekka was being held by the Indian.
She wiped the rain drops from her face with a riding glove and went to move out, but caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Trying not to move fast, in case it was the Ute she was seeing, she slowly turned her head and then let out a breath. Lije, riding low over his stallion’s neck was emerging from a dry wash to her left. He didn’t see her. She waved her arms and then whistled softly to get his attention. Even then he was slow to look up at her. When he finally did, she could see that he was only staying on the horse by sheer force of will. Blood still cake his head and face and his skin was as gray as his mount. He shouldn’t be here in the shape he was in, but then she shouldn’t be either. They were just doing what they had to do.
August Toft took the news that his older daughter had been abducted a second time by a vicious Indian quite well, considering. He listened to Lars explain that she’d been taken, but that more than a dozen hands were out searching for her to bring her back, and then in concern asked, “What can I do to help?”
Kristina, on the other hand, didn’t take it so well. She first had a rather theatrical crying fit, and then marched to the front door of the Lauritzen home and turning back toward her father and Lars, tearfully said, “I’m going to search for Brekka. I’ll be back in a while.”
Lars was so confused at her ridiculous announcement, that she actually made it all t
he way off the porch before he hustled out the door to intercept her, her father fast on his heels, hollering in Danish, “Kristina, wait! Don’t be ridiculous, child! You’ve never even been here. You can’t go out searching. You’ll only get lost and we’ll have to find both of you!”
At first, she simply ignored her father and kept stomping down the lane into the gathering dusk, but then finally, she turned and said, “You can stay here and do nothing if you must Father, but I can’t! I’ll go crazy! Somebody has to find her! The more searchers, the better!”
August Toft threw up his hands as if in defeat and Lars looked at him in amazement. Obviously, even though he’d just said it, this man had no idea how truly stupid of an idea it was for Kristina to go stomping off into somewhere she was completely unfamiliar with, especially with White Stone on the loose.
Jumping off the porch, Lars strode after Kristina, trying to talk some sense into her in an almost pleading tone of voice for nearly twenty yards down the lane. Finally, in utter disgust, he quit cajoling the spoiled girl and simply picked her, threw her over his shoulder and turned to go back to his father’s house saying over her hollering, “We already have one tall, beautiful blonde lost out there in the hands of that savage, who happens to be obsessed with tall, beautiful blondes, and we are certainly not going to have two! Now quit your ridiculous yowling, and get back in that house and for just a moment use your head for something other than to hold a fancy hat. You’re acting like a two-year-old!”
Into the Wind_A Love Story Page 21