Red Hawk's Woman

by Karen Kay

  Carl tried to rein in the horse. He was on his feet, and Effie could see that every muscle in his body was strained. Owens sat helplessly, his hands white from clutching his seat.

  Another blast sounded behind her, causing the horse to panic more and Effie to dive even farther away from it. Another something flew past her, but this time, Effie wasn’t certain it had been a bullet. It seemed bigger.

  Luckily she was unharmed by both the horse and the shot. But then, perhaps she had thought too soon.

  Screams from the other women told her that something terrible had happened. Looking forward, she was in time to watch Red Hawk’s pony go down. With horror, she saw him sink along with it.

  “Red Hawk!” she added her screams to the others’. She tried to run, but only managed to push uselessly through the rushing stream. “Red Hawk!” she shrieked again.

  Flailing her arms, she fought through the water until she reached his side. Luckily, Henry Smith had braved the stream from the other side and helped drag Red Hawk toward the shore.

  Struggling with him through the river, panic turned to terror, and some barrier broke free within her. As one thought after another rushed through her mind, she knew she had been foolish. She loved this man. Certainly, she had always been enchanted by him. No doubt she had loved him when she had given herself to him so freely.

  But adoration seemed to come wrapped in many different layers. What had once appeared as a mild infatuation was in reality as hot and wild as an exploding volcano. She loved him. Nothing, not even this all-consuming dig, was more important than he was.

  Meanwhile, Red Hawk’s pony had come to her feet and had drifted back to the shore. Red Hawk, however, appeared to be unconscious.

  “Red Hawk!” she cried out his name, then in a little softer voice, “Red Hawk.”

  No answer.

  “Henry,” she said, “in your wagon is a medicine kit. Go fetch it for me, please.”

  Immediately, he did as bid. Meanwhile, Effie smoothed her hands over every part of Red Hawk’s body, seeking evidence of an injury. She found none.

  But his eyes were closed, and he wasn’t uttering a word. Was he merely unconscious?

  Or was it worse?

  Frantically, she unfastened his blue and white choker, pushing it out of the way, as she pressed her hands against his neck. The pulse was weak, causing her uncertainty if it was even there. She tore off his shirt, feeling for a heartbeat, her fingers entangling with the necklace she had once given him. She pushed the necklace to the side and fumbled over his chest, hunting for a heartbeat.

  At last, she found it. She exhaled deeply.

  Next, she rubbed her hands over his head, her fingers searching for an injury. In falling had his head hit something? A rock? Wouldn’t the water have cushioned the fall enough to render him little harm?

  “Red Hawk, can you hear me?” She picked up his hand, holding it in both of hers. “Don’t you dare frighten me so. And don’t you dare leave me.”

  There was no response.

  She had to determine if he had hit his head, and as gently as possible, she felt behind and discovered a rather large lump, there on the back side. But it wasn’t from the fall. Something had grazed him, had come dangerously close to killing him.

  What was she to do? He continued to be unresponsive to her.

  Still holding his hand, she said, “Red Hawk, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”

  For several moments, nothing happened, but then she felt a light pressure from his fingers.

  He groaned, and Effie almost cried. It wasn’t long before he opened his eyes. Looking straight up at her, he took a deep breath, and said, “Are you all right?”

  What a question. She almost laughed. “I’m fine,” she said, half crying. “But I fear that you have fallen from your horse.”

  “Aa, I think I am aware of that.”

  Tentatively, she asked, “Can you move your legs?”

  He lifted his feet, then he bent his knees. “I can.”

  “And how about your arms? Can you lift both of them?”

  He held up first one, and then the other, bringing her hands right along with him. “I can do that also. Should I try to sit up?”

  She didn’t answer because he did so at once, though he did grab hold of his head in the process.

  “Did someone hit me?” he asked. “It feels like I have been in a battle.”

  “Apparently, something grazed you a little too closely.” She indicated the spot without touching it. “I will need to clean the wound. Look at me, for I must stare deeply into your pupils. Oh, dear,” she complained, after a moment, “I’m afraid it’s almost impossible to see the pupils of your eyes, the iris is so dark.”

  At that moment, the sky rumbled, and looking up, she was amazed to discover that clouds had gathered above them. Where had those storm clouds come from? And so quickly?

  Gradually, Red Hawk rose to his feet, and as Henry rushed to her with the medicine kit, Red Hawk asked, “Where is my pony?”

  Spying the animal, she pointed and said, “She is over there, grazing.”

  Even though Effie tried to hold him back, Red Hawk was already striding away from her.

  “Red Hawk.” She came to her feet and rushed after him. “Don’t walk away from me. I need to sterilize that wound.”

  “It will hold,” he said, not even looking at her.

  “But what are you doing? Only moments ago, you were unconscious. I need to make sure you are fine.”

  “I am fine.”

  “But I need to make sure.”

  “When I have finished with what I must do, you can then attend to me. In the meanwhile, I think I know who is following us, and if I am right—and I believe I am—it is only I who can handle him.”

  “But—”

  “You must become the leader of these wagons, Miss Effie.” He gazed at her with concern. “Please lead the wagons in a northerly direction until you find a good place to camp. Ensure it is near water. You are still in Crow country, and they are friendly. You will be fine.”

  “But—”

  “If I do not return in a few days’ time, keep heading straight north. Keep to the trails. You will soon find your way to the Gates of the Rocky Mountains.”

  “But—”

  “Do not try to stop me. If I am right, this is something only I can do.”

  “Then you know who is doing this to us?”

  “I think that I do.”

  “Well, who is it? And don’t you want to take Henry or Carl with you as protection?”

  “I need no one else. Besides, you will require them more than I, in case I do not return.”

  “Do not say that. And I’m not so certain we cannot do without them.”

  “They stay.”

  “All right,” she said. “Then take me. I would help you, as you have helped me.”

  “Saa. ’Tis one battle I must fight on my own.”

  “Then before you go, I think you should be aware that I have decided something.”

  “Ho!”

  “I have decided I will marry you. We will need to find a preacher in order to make it legal. We will have to find a place to live where people are not horribly prejudiced. But, Red Hawk, I’m in love with you. I cannot live without you.”

  For one entire heartbeat, Red Hawk looked as though he had found heaven. But then, glancing away from her, he said, “I love you too. But I cannot stay here now. I must go.”

  “Take me.”

  “I cannot.”

  “Why? Who is it that is doing this?”

  “’Tis my own enemy,” he said solemnly. “’Tis the one I have waited all my life to battle.”

  “Yes?”

  “’Tis the Thunderer.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  It was as an a
fterthought that Red Hawk bent down and washed the blood off his face. Tenderly, he felt his head with the tips of his fingers, satisfying himself that it was merely a flesh wound. It would hold.

  Taking his pony’s reins in hand, he leapt upon her back. He checked his gear. His shield, with his medicine pouch, was tied to his blanket, which he used as a saddle. His lance hung by his side, ready to grip. Over his shoulder was his bow, and upon his back, a quiver full of arrows.

  He was ready.

  Glancing back only once at Effie, he urged his pony into a run, putting as much distance between himself and the wagon train as possible. His spirits soared as he burst out over the prairie, for at last he could place a cause to the mysterious happenings.

  In truth, he felt grounded. Here was something solid for him to hold on to, something tangible to fight. Indeed, he looked forward to the battle ahead of him, had been boldly hoping for such a moment since before he could remember.

  As he rushed his pony across the short, lush prairie grass, he relished the feeling of being one with Mother Earth. The wind raced across his face, seeming to speak to him, and he inhaled the life-giving force of pure air.

  Clouds, which had touched down to earth, rolled toward him. Off in the distance, lightning struck the ground as the storm, much like a cyclone, sped toward him. His pony danced uneasily beneath him, but Red Hawk soothed her and gave her full berth. For this battle, he was prepared.

  “Come and do your worst!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, as his pony reared. “Meet me, man to man!”

  From a lone tree to his left, an enormous bird suddenly burst into flame, its ashes falling to the ground. An instant later, another bird came into view, this one larger than a monster, half black, half blue, and as it flapped its wings, thunder spread all about it.

  It was the Thunderbird, and with its breath, it roused the clouds, causing them to spin toward him. With its eyes, it spat lightning. The earth, being its target, burst into fire. But as quickly as it had come, the bird now disappeared into the rolling clouds of thunder.

  “Are you afraid?” shouted Red Hawk. “Afraid to do battle with one who hates you?”

  Perhaps he had spoken too soon. Clouds had settled upon the earth, and from out of their dust stepped a man, half black, half blue, with long, black-blue hair and lightning stripes branded over his face and torso. Thunder rolled across his chest as though it were part of his breathing. From his fingertips shot strikes of lightning.

  He was the Thunder Being.

  Red Hawk’s pony rose onto her hind legs. Still, Red Hawk held her in check. In preparation for battle, he drew his bow and lifted his lance, but then, unexpectedly from those same clouds, came a voice.

  But it wasn’t the Thunderer’s call. It was a voice from Red Hawk’s past:

  “Remember, Poor Orphan, that you are your band’s champion. You are not on an errand of revenge. Show your enemies mercy, give aid, but most importantly, do not engage in battle with the Thunderer even if you are able.”

  The Thunderer laughed. “I will do battle with you, if you choose, Poor Orphan. Come.” With his hand, he urged Red Hawk forward.

  “Haiya!” shouted Red Hawk, dismounting and striding forward. “You who have ruined my life, I will battle with you.”

  “Do not engage in battle with the Thunderer, even if you are able.” So came the voice from the clouds one more time.

  “Haiya! Saa!” Were his hands to be so tied? Was Red Hawk expected to do nothing, when at last his chance was at hand, when at last the Thunderer stood before him?

  “Haiya!” Red Hawk uttered the word, as though it were a curse.

  It took every bit of his strength, his cunning, his integrity to do as he knew he had to, for he had given his promise. At length, though every bit of his being rebelled, he turned his back on the Thunder Being.

  Grabbing hold of his pony’s reins, Red Hawk jumped up on her back. Lifting his spear high into the air, he said, “As soon as I have freed my people, I will do battle with you. But, alas, that time is not now.”

  The Thunderer laughed again, the clouds boomed, lightning struck the ground. Looking back, the last thing Red Hawk saw was the Thunder Being becoming a bird, which set off across the prairie. Black clouds rolled with him and lightning flashed, setting off fires over the prairie. But Red Hawk didn’t turn back.

  It didn’t keep frustration from tearing at him. How could this be? At last, he was justified in doing battle with his nemesis; at last, the evil villain was within reach, had acknowledged Red Hawk by trying to kill him.

  Or had the Thunderer tried to kill him?

  The thought was disturbing. For indeed, if the Thunder Being had truly wished to end Red Hawk’s life, there would be little he, Red Hawk, could do. Aa, to be certain, he would go down fighting, but make no mistake, he would go down.

  “Ha!” Red Hawk cried out in futility, raising his shield high into the air, as if in challenge. “I have had to walk away this time, but there will be a next. This I promise you.”

  Even as the words left him, Red Hawk knew he could not do it until his people were freed, if that were to ever happen.

  Trying to calm himself, Red Hawk allowed his pony to slow to a trot. If not battle, then what was he to do? To do nothing was wrong, for he could not allow the Thunderer to terrorize Effie and the others.

  Glancing up into the sky, he let out another groan, opened his arms wide and shouted, “Omaopaat!”

  An idea came to him. Perhaps the awareness was a gift from the Creator. Mayhap the realization occurred because, in his frustration, he could suddenly think clearly. Whatever was the cause, he knew what he must do.

  When in doubt, cleanse yourself in the right way, and seek out your spirit protector.

  So had spoken his old, wise grandfather.

  In this moment, Red Hawk needed guidance. He would have to seek out and find the sea dog again.

  To this end, he rushed off across the prairie.

  “Indians. You can’t trust them,” complained John Owens.

  “The man is obviously irresponsible, leaving us alone when he was hired to guide us,” added Fieldman. “But he’s not to blame, I dare say. Can’t help what’s in his blood.” The man raised his nose in the air.

  “That’s unfair,” Henry spoke up. “We all felt the brunt of the attack—Red Hawk most of all. He was injured, and yet he went off to fight the enemy alone, saving us.”

  “A likely story.” Owens snickered. “He has left us on the prairie to rot.”

  “He has not,” said Effie.

  “Father, really! That was unnecessary,” admonished Lesley.

  “Be thankful he didn’t require you to go with him, Mr. Owens.” Carl’s tone was more than a little antagonistic. “But I swear if you keep this up, we might leave you here—to rot.”

  Piqued, Owens blew out a breath. Yet the threat seemed to quiet him, at least temporarily.

  “Well, good, I’m glad that’s settled,” Effie continued. “Now, we will wait here for him to return, as I assure you he will. There is plenty of water, we have enough food, and we are in the friendly country of the Crow. We can afford to wait…at least for a few days.”

  “I don’t like it,” Owens stated with a sneer.

  “Father! Hush!”

  “You’re in the minority here,” Carl reminded him.

  “We will wait for Red Hawk here,” said Effie in a voice that allowed no debate. “And unless you and Fieldman would like to lead us out of here and defend us on the trail as well, I suggest you both keep your opinions to yourself.”

  “Hear, hear!” came the hearty response of Carl, followed by similar approval from Henry.

  Owens and Fieldman, however, were not to be persuaded. With a round of disgruntled mumbling, Owens turned away, followed by Fieldman.

  “Well done, Miss Rutledge.” Ca
rl was smiling.

  “Yes,” Henry joined in. “Couldn’t have expressed it better myself. Though he is my father-in-law, I heartily disagree with him, don’t you, Lesley?”

  Lesley nodded.

  While Madeline placed a sympathetic hand on Effie’s arm, Lesley voiced, “Please excuse me, Effie. I need to talk to Father.”

  “Yes. That would be good.” Effie heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you for your defense. It is much appreciated. But now, if you would excuse me, I am so behind in my work…”

  “Of course,” agreed Madeline, while the two men nodded.

  Effie smiled her thanks at them all, stepped toward her tent, and after pulling back its flap, she settled onto her blanket cross-legged. With another deep breath, she picked up her journal and pen, and without hesitation, began to scribble down notes.

  The lake before him was a deep blue, surrounded by stands of willows, cottonwoods and balsam. It was a beautiful spot, a beautiful water.

  It was also a treacherous loch, and legend had it that it was haunted by water creatures that could lure a man to his death.

  Many an Indian soul had been lost to this body of water, and to this very day, no Blackfeet warrior dared enter into its realm without penalty.

  But Red Hawk was desperate. If any body of water might house the sea dog, this would be the one.

  Having purified himself in the sacred smoke of sweet grass and sage, he stood at the edge of the lake. Perhaps he would find the sea dog here in this pool, perhaps not. There was a good chance he might lose his life.

  All he knew was that he had to try.

  Summoning his courage, for fear of the unknown held sway over him, he prepared to take the plunge into the water. But first Red Hawk lifted his voice to the heavens, offering a prayer to the Above Ones:

  “Haiya, haiya, thank you, A’pistotooki, for guiding me this day.

  Haiya, haiya, thank you for allowing me to understand that the Thunderer now follows me.

  Haiya, haiya, I would ask for your help again, A’pistotooki, for the Thunderer is a worthy opponent.