by Merry Farmer
The brave ignored her. As soon as he had her upright, he grabbed one of her legs and wrenched it so that she sat astride the horse. As soon as she was in position, he shouted, “Ha!” and his horse shot off once more.
Though her head still ached from where he had hit her back at the fort, riding astride was more comfortable than being slung across the horse like baggage, but not by much. Her balance on the moving horse depended on the brave’s grip around her waist. She fought the urge to struggle, and pushed the hair from her face to look around. The moonlight was almost as good as a torch to light the landscape, but what she saw didn’t put Katie’s mind at ease. There was nothing around but wilderness, no sign of another human anywhere, no sign of Emma.
“Emma,” she shouted. She fought the brave’s restraining arms to look for her friend. “Emma,” she called again, “Em—”
Before she could shout a third time, the brave slapped a hand over her mouth. The shock of it left her gasping for air as they galloped up a steep incline. The crest was narrow, and in no time they dashed down the other side. As soon as they reached the bottom, the brave slowed his horse and changed direction, looping them back along the base of the hill to a line of small trees.
Katie attempted to call out again, but the brave’s hand over her mouth blocked any sound. His fingers were wedged so close to her nose that in no time her head began to swim for lack of air. She tried to struggle, but the brave’s grip was like iron. Only when she went limp in a swoon did he remove his hand. Then Katie was too busy catching her breath to call out, or to pay attention to where they were going.
After only a few minutes, they were running again. The moon dipped slowly toward the far horizon as time and miles ticked by. Every time she tried to twist to look behind her, to search for Emma or anyone from the fort, the brave muscled her to face forward. A few times he barked orders at her in a tongue she couldn’t begin to understand. It didn’t sound like any language she had ever heard.
At one point, she was certain she saw a flicker of movement far behind them as they turned a corner to follow a stream.
“Help,” she called out with a sudden burst of energy. “Help me!”
She could have sworn the shadow following them flinched and moved.
“Help! Help! He—”
A dull blow to the side of her head stopped her with a flash of searing pain. The brave growled something against her ear.
“Don’t you grunt at me like that, you vile kidnapper,” she fired back with a burst of energy. “If I had my way, I’d tie you up by—”
He slapped a hand over her mouth again and pulled his horse to a stop. He barked at her once more, twice as angry as before, but still unintelligible. Katie didn’t need to know the meaning of his words to know she was in danger.
She wasn’t about to sit still and take it this time. The moment the brave loosened his hand over her mouth, she bit one of his fingers.
The brave shouted and yanked his hand back. Katie braced herself for another blow, but it didn’t come. Instead, the brave twisted in his saddle, reaching for something behind him, keeping one arm tight around her waist. As Katie turned to see what he was doing, he tugged a long strip of leather from a small saddlebag attached to what passed for a saddle.
“What are you doing with that?” she asked, attempting to sound brave in spite of the tremble in her voice.
Curiosity kept her from fighting to free herself before it was too late. The brave looped the strip of leather over her head and fit it across her mouth as she raised her hands to protest. She lost her chance to fight as he fit the gag in place, tight and musty in her mouth, and tied it at the back of her head. The brave’s hand knocked against the spot where he’d hit her back at the fort, sending a flash of nauseating pain through her that kept her from struggling. Her head wasn’t clear enough for her to shout in protest until he’d nudged his horse forward again, and when she did, the sound was strangled and distorted.
She dared to let go of the horse’s mane in an attempt to pull the gag out of her mouth, but all her efforts earned her was blinding pain in her head and a sharp admonition from the brave. He stopped the horse again and squeezed one arm around her while twisting to look in his saddlebag. When he straightened, he had another strip of leather. He used this one to tie her hands together. Once that was done, he urged his horse on. Katie had to grasp its mane to keep her balance as they sped up, which prevented her from pulling off her gag.
By the time the brave had his horse at a run once more, the full danger of the situation descended on Katie. She couldn’t cry out. Her mouth grew cottony as the leather dried her out. Her head ached to the point where it was affecting her vision. Every muscle in her body was in pain, and before long her thighs were chaffing as the motion of riding hiked her skirt up, exposing her legs. She was alone in the middle of nowhere, in the dead of night, and as far as she knew, no one was coming after her.
Aiden, she called out in her heart. Aiden would come after her. She latched on to the hope that he was the shadow she had seen behind her. He had to be. He was always with her. He had been with her as long as she could remember. He had followed her out of Ireland and into the American West, convincing his entire family to go just so that he could be with her. He wouldn’t abandon her now.
Yet, as time wore on in a dark blur, she saw no further sign of the shadow that she’d glimpsed. Her body grew heavy as the brave slowed his horse to a fast walk. The rhythm of each step lulled her into a fuzzy anxiety instead of the sharp panic that had been with her since the fort.
Soon even that gave way to an uncomfortable half-sleep. She sagged against the brave’s chest, both repelled and pacified by his warmth. Every inch of her wanted to fight, but she was exhausted. The world went dark as she gave up.
When at last she opened her eyes, a hazy light caressed the eastern horizon. For several long minutes, Katie stared at it from under heavy eyelids. The light grew. The motion of the horse under her was slow and plodding now. They were walking. The sun was coming up. She could hear the murmur of a stream flowing over rocks. The scent of a freshly lit fire wafted around her. Somewhere a dog barked. Another dog answered it.
A woman told the dogs off with words that couldn’t form themselves into meaning in Katie’s mind.
Katie gasped and snapped fully awake. She tensed, eyes wide, and took in her surroundings. They had ridden up to a wide clearing, full of tipis. There had to be dozens of them, bathed in dawn light. A few older women dressed in soft brown hides decorated with beads worked starting the campfires or walking to and from the stream at the base of a hill with jars or skins of water. An old man or two sat in front of the tipis or in front of the fires. There was even a naked child clinging sleepily to a woman’s leg as she worked.
A village. The brave had brought her to a village. As he rode into the midst of the tipis, every eye was on her.
Chapter Seven
The brave pulled his horse to a stop at the edge of an area where several horses stood grazing, and dismounted. He called out to the young man tending the horses. Katie still couldn’t understand a word he said, but though his voice was thick with exhaustion, he didn’t sound angry. The boy jumped away from the horse he had been stroking and scurried to help the brave. While he worked, the brave took his saddlebag from the horse’s back. Katie reached up with her tied hands to work her gag loose. The brave searched through his bag and drew out a pistol before slinging the saddlebag over his shoulder.
Fear flooded Katie at the sight of the gun and she stopped pulling at her gag. He’d probably used the gun to hit her in the head, but she was far more fearful of its other uses. A panicked whimper escaped through her leather gag before she could stop herself.
The brave said something to her, another order. When she didn’t obey whatever it was, he reached up with both hands and dragged her off the horse’s back. Katie fell hard against him, her feet not finding their way under her fast enough. She sagged until her knees hit the groun
d. The brave pulled her up. He muttered something that didn’t sound complimentary once she finally got her bearings and stood on her own. Even then, she wasn’t sure she could stay upright for long. Every part of her ached from the night-long ride.
That didn’t stop the brave. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her along as he walked away from the place where the horses were kept and into the heart of the tipi village. The sun was rising swiftly now, bathing the village in light. More people were emerging from their homes, rubbing their sleepy faces as they greeted the dawn. The brave marched through them all, his head held high, his grip on Katie’s wrist tight, as if he’d captured a prize.
Katie’s heart pounded so furiously in her chest that it made her dizzy. The more people they passed, the more people were watching her. She caught them whispering and murmuring to each other. A few of the children dashed up and questioned the brave, but he didn’t answer. Some of the younger women left what they were doing by their campfires to follow. Two of them were bold enough to match their steps to Katie’s, watching her with wide, fascinated eyes as the brave marched her on.
One of those women reached out and touched Katie’s hair. Katie flinched, then instantly felt guilt mix in with her fear. The woman laughed and said something to her friend as they walked. She didn’t sound threatening or mean or even teasing, only amazed.
A wave of fear brought Katie’s thoughts back around to Aiden. Was that him she had seen in the night or just a shadow? She called out, “Aiden,” but with the gag still in place, his name sounded like nothing more than a blossom of sound.
Her cry had another effect, though. The woman who had touched her hair said something to the brave leading her. She was clearly annoyed, and as soon as she finished speaking, the second woman reached for Katie’s gag to pull it off. The gag had loosened, and the woman was able to tug it down over her lip and chin, leaving it resting around her neck, without a problem. The brave’s frown darkened, but he didn’t stop.
As soon as she could work a little moisture back into her mouth, Katie managed a weak, “Help.” She sounded as feeble as a lamb, but at least it was something. “Help me,” she appealed to the woman who had taken the gag off.
The brave stopped and pivoted to face them with a sharp shout. Katie bristled in fear, and even the two women flinched. They skittered away. The brave stared at Katie with a look part calculation and part disapproval. He grunted, then kept walking forward.
More people lined the path that they walked now. All kinds of people. Men and women, young and old, mothers with babies on their hips and old men, bent over and leaning on decorated staffs. Every face Katie saw was curious, and half were wary. All of them were Indian.
“Emma,” she said to some of them as she passed. “Do you know where Emma is? Is she here?” If her brave had dragged her this far, all the way to his village, then surely Emma would be here too. “Emma,” she dared to shout louder. Her voice was still shaky. She needed water. Still, she persisted. “Where am I?” she asked the confused, murmuring people. “Who are you? Where have I been taken?”
The brave stopped abruptly and turned to snap something fierce at her. This time Katie flinched a little less than before. The spark in the brave’s eyes was more irritation than a harbinger of bloody murder. He still held his gun, but limp at his side, clutching the barrel instead of the handle. He warned Katie off with a few harsh words, then dragged her on, picking up his pace. He was no longer showing her off to the people who came out of their tipis to see, but taking her to a specific destination.
They stopped near the center of the tipi village. A large fire pit stood ringed by stones. A few women worked beside smaller fires that had been lit inside of it, cooking something that smelled heavenly. Katie’s stomach rumbled in spite of her fear, but she ignored it. Four old and wrinkled men sat beside the fire in conversation. They glanced up with wise and curious eyes as the brave pulled her to a stop by the side of the fire pit.
The brave launched into a long string of words in the melodic Indian tongue. Katie didn’t understand the words, but from the gestures he made, she guessed the brave was explaining who she was and how he had taken her. The old men listened with faces that betrayed nothing about what they were hearing, no emotion at all.
“Help me,” she interrupted the brave’s story. “I’ve been taken against my will. I was kidnapped from Ft. Caspar. I don’t want to be here. I want to go home.”
She would have said more, but the brave turned and shouted at her, threatening her with a fist closed around his gun. Katie shied away from him, raising her bound hands to defend herself.
Two of the elders spoke at the same time. Their voices held disapproval, even scolding. The brave lowered his fist, his expression pinching to shame for a moment before returning to neutral. He continued talking. Katie stood where she was, shifting her weight between her feet and glancing around. The village was larger than she would have imagined an Indian camp to be. It was certainly bigger than Ft. Caspar. There could be any number of people there. She still might be able to make a break for it and run to safety if….
She abandoned the thought before she could get her hopes up too high. There was no way she would be able to escape. Not with so many villagers, and not as long as the brave held a gun. He couldn’t be the only one with a firearm.
Katie’s attention was yanked back to the brave and the elders when one of the old men pointed at her and said something. She turned from studying the camp to meet his eyes. He repeated something in a rough, old voice, then waited.
“I… I don’t understand you,” she said by way of reply. Even though neither the old man who had spoken or any of the men sitting with him looked particularly threatening, Katie’s voice shook.
The old man turned to one of the many who had gathered to see what would happen. He spoke something and made a fluid gesture around his face. The young woman he spoke to nodded then rushed off. Katie bit her lip and twisted her wrists in her bonds, wishing she could rub her sore hands. She wished she could lie down in a soft featherbed and sleep for days, far away from here, at home in Ballymote, even.
Another old man noticed her gestures. He said something disapproving to the brave. For a moment, the brave argued, but then he hissed out a breath and turned to untie Katie’s wrists. His expression was peevish, but beneath the annoyance Katie was certain she saw the look of a man who knew he had done something wrong. Whether he cared enough to set it right was another matter.
A minute passed, then a murmur went up through the ever-growing crowd that had come to see what the fuss was. Even Katie felt a pull of expectation. To the side where the young woman had run off, the people who had gathered parted. Another old man, dressed in some kind of soft animal skin robes with bead designs and feathers that were fancier than the others, came forward. By his side was a young woman close to Katie’s age. Her long black hair made a plait down her back. She was pretty, even with her eyes downcast, but had two large patches of white skin, one on her left cheek and one on her forehead above her right eye, which marred that beauty. Something about her reminded Katie of Emma.
As they reached the center of the gathering where the other old men sat, the well-dressed old man spoke to the elders. The elders replied, and the well-dressed man asked the brave a question.
Katie despaired of ever knowing what was going on around her until the woman with the white spots said, “Grandfather wants to know where you came from.”
Her English was slow and halting and the way she pronounced some of the words wasn’t quite right, but suddenly being able to understand what was being said brought tears of joy to Katie’s eyes.
“Help me,” she pleaded, taking a step closer to the woman. “My name is Katie Boyle. I was stolen from Ft. Caspar, from the wagon train where my family is. We’ve come from Ireland and we’re going to Oregon. I want to go home.”
Any expectation Katie had that the young woman would leap into a panic with her and rush to help her break free was
disappointed. The woman only nodded at her, anxious energy in her eyes, and turned to translate what she’d said to the elders. Her eyes flickered to the brave, and a whole new emotion filled them.
Katie didn’t get a chance to wonder what it was. Two of the elders spoke at once. One of them deferred to the other, who continued speaking to the woman. He gestured to his head.
The woman nodded, turned to Katie, and said, “Elk Man wants to know why your head is on fire without burning.”
Katie blinked. Her mouth dropped open. She had told them, through the young woman, that she had been kidnapped, and the old man wanted to know why her hair was red? The woman must have translated wrong.
“I have red hair,” Katie answered, comforting anger filling her, making her bold. “Why should he bloody well care about something like that when I’ve been kidnapped and taken halfway across the West with my hands tied and a gag in my mouth?” The woman began to translate before she was finished. “I haven’t even been given a drink of water. I demand to be taken back to Ft. Caspar at once!”
Her words were delayed as the woman finished telling them. When she did, the old man who had asked the question laughed and said something. A number of people around them laughed at his comment.
The woman with the white spots lowered her head and replied, “Elk Man says it’s not just your hair on fire. You have fire inside you.”
The brave added something in a dismissive voice.
“Sky Bear said he learned this on the journey here,” the woman with spots translated. She lowered her eyes. Splashes of dark pink formed on her cheeks.
“Sky Bear?” Katie peeked at her captor out of the corner of her eye. “Well, Sky Bear is a giant pillock who hits women over the head with guns and drags them around as if they’re sacks of potatoes.”
The woman with spots snapped her head up. A pained look came to her eyes as she glanced to Sky Bear. She opened her mouth to translate what Katie said, but the man who had asked the initial question, the man she had called Grandfather, stopped her. He said something to the woman who had come to fetch him, who scurried off on another errand. Then he turned to Katie and spoke.