“Major!” Analisa called out in a tone that demanded his attention. Williamson was at her side immediately. “My husband is alive,” she said, ignoring his expression of disbelief, barely able to look at him after his too hasty declaration. “I want him moved out of here. Now.”
Without another word she was back at Caleb’s side. Her own hand ceased shaking as it replaced Ruth’s on the makeshift bandage.
“You will not die, Caleb Storm,” she whispered fiercely as she leaned near. “You would not dare!” As she brushed his rain-slicked hair off of his forehead, Analisa thought she saw a flicker of a smile on his lips.
Around her all was chaos again. Zach bade the agency Indians to hastily construct a litter out of saplings and army blankets. Analisa insisted Caleb be moved out of the mud, and so Frank Williamson and Tor Jensen gently lifted and wrapped him in a blanket from Tor’s bedroll. Within moments, the litter was prepared and another blanket securely lashed to saplings and slung between the agency Indians’ mounts. Analisa remained at his side as they carried him to the litter, struggling through the hoof-torn earth in Abbie’s oversized shoes, pressing her hand against Caleb’s wound as if she could hold life within him by sheer force of will. She knew that Ruth followed closely behind, as unwilling as she to leave Caleb’s side.
The men laid Caleb on the litter as tenderly as if they carried a newborn babe. Zach instructed the Sioux agency police with words and signs while Analisa adjusted the sodden blanket that covered her husband. The touch of a hand on her arm made her look up and discover Mia standing beside her. The Sioux woman’s expression was suffused with remorse, her dark eyes deeply tinged with sorrow.
“I did not mean—” Mia choked on her words and shook her head as if to deny everything that had happened.
Analisa stared at the woman who had wounded her husband and was silent for a moment while she gathered her shattered nerves. She took a deep breath and adjusted her hand on Caleb’s bandage before she spoke.
“The innocent are often harmed by hatred. This is one of those times. Caleb wanted only the best for your people, for his people, too, in both worlds.”
Mia’s eyes brimmed with tears that quickly spilled over to mingle with the rain on her cheeks. She did not brush them aside before she spoke.
“Red Dog has let the soldiers take Hardy. I have shamed him. He says he will talk of peace to Raven’s Shadow, if the man lives.”
“He will live,” Analisa assured her.
Without another word or gesture, Mia conveyed her sorrow to Analisa, her dark eyes begging forgiveness. A tense, silent moment passed between them before Analisa nodded once to Mia and then turned away, knowing she could not bear to look upon the Sioux woman any longer. Analisa was determined not to allow herself to hate Mia for what she had done. Hate would only poison her own heart as it had Mia’s. Besides, she knew Caleb would not want her to carry such hatred, and so she let it go. He needed Analisa’s care now as well as love uncluttered by hatred for the woman who’d done him harm. She watched Zach Elliot approach and sensed by his grim demeanor that he was none too happy with his task.
“Miz Storm, you’re gonna have to let the men take him back now. It’d be better if we got movin’.”
“Come, Analisa,” Ruth added, touching her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. “We must move quickly.”
The thought of relinquishing her position beside Caleb’s litter tore at her heart, yet she knew she could not walk all the way back to the fort. With a heavy sigh she tested Zach with a look.
“Come on, now, ma’am,” he insisted. “They’ll make better time without you holdin’ them back every step o’ the way.”
“You’ll tell them to take care?”
“I told ‘em once and I’ll tell ‘em again and again if they need remindin’.”
Analisa felt her shoulders droop with exhaustion as she looked at her husband’s face again and felt as if it were her own life’s blood that ebbed away. She asked for Ruth’s scarf, carefully eased it beneath and then around Caleb’s body, and knotted it to hold the bandage in place.
“You can ride up behind me, ma’am.”
Gratefully she acknowledged Zach. “I’d like that, Mr. Elliot. I don’t think I could manage alone right now.”
Ruth walked beside Analisa to Zach’s pony and waited until she was mounted behind the scout. Frank Williamson joined Ruth, and Analisa watched them share a whispered exchange. Soon the remainder of the group was mounted and fell in behind the litter bearers. Frank Williamson offered Ruth his saddled mount and rode bareback on Analisa’s pack horse. The one remaining trooper led the pack mules.
Red Dog and his band of warriors followed close behind the small procession of women, soldiers, and agency Indians, all traveling through the rain that had slowed to an irritating drizzle.
“Why do they stay with us?” Analisa asked, nodding toward the renegade band.
Zach answered over his shoulder. “They’ll escort us until we get closer to Sully. You don’t need to worry. Red Dog’s been humiliated enough by the girl’s act. He won’t tarnish his honor any further by attacking us when we’re down. He only wanted Hardy, not a full-out war, but now he’s given the agent up to the government to make up for the girl’s shootin’ your husband.”
She did not speak again during the rest of the journey. The uncomfortable ride in clinging, sodden clothing was nearly unbearable, the discomfort only adding to her misery. Although Analisa tried to relax against Zach, knowing full well she would need all of her strength in order to nurse Caleb, she found herself unable to glance away from the litter that carried her husband’s prostrate form.
The events of the morning repeated themselves in unbidden fashion in Analisa’s mind. How could Caleb be hovering near death? She had feared for his safety since she’d first learned of his mission, but despite her fear she’d never faced the reality of his being critically wounded. Fear and reality were two far different things, she realized. Caleb was the strong one, self-assured and independent despite his status as a man of mixed blood. Why had this happened now? she wondered, as the horses jolted along at the fastest pace Zach felt Caleb could endure. Why now when the promise of a life together stretched before them? It seemed so unfair to think he might be taken from her just when his assignment had come to a close and their lives were no longer overshadowed by his work.
She shook her head to rid herself of such dismal thoughts and felt a shudder run through her. Caleb would not die. She was determined that he should live, for her, for Kase, for the future that stretched before them.
Somehow the next few hours passed and the weary party finally arrived at Fort Sully. Red Dog and his men departed, the young leader giving his word to Zach Elliot and Williamson that he would deal with Raven’s Shadow and only Raven’s Shadow. The message was clear enough. Should Caleb die, Red Dog would feel no obligation to surrender. Mia was allowed to accompany Red Dog only after Analisa insisted she be released to her people.
“She’s responsible for wounding your husband,” the major had reminded her unnecessarily. “I’ll have her arrested if you want to press charges. Red Dog left the decision up to you.”
Analisa answered without hesitation. “She shot Caleb by mistake, Major. I cannot find it in my heart to blame her. Hardy is a cruel man. Heartless. In her place I might have done the same.”
She had felt Red Dog’s stare across the distance between them when she gave the commander her decision. She met his eyes as she watched the small group of warriors and the woman ride away as proudly as they had thundered across the plain that morning. Analisa wondered what chance she would have had of seeing Meika or Pieter again if she had insisted that Mia be arrested. She wondered, too, how her sister had survived all these years among a people so vastly different from her own, leading a life far removed from the one they had known in Holland.
The small party of bedraggled travelers was greeted at the house by Abbie who could now be fully in her element, the only woman f
it to command. Ruth was far too exhausted to exhibit her usual cool authority, and Analisa refused to leave Caleb’s side.
The company doctor was there to meet them, alerted by the troopers who had returned earlier with Hardy. The young medic was hardly older than Analisa. His white-blond hair was close cropped and curly, his skin clear and only slightly tanned. She could tell immediately he spent less time out-of-doors than the other soldiers. An evenly trimmed mustache covered his upper lip.
Analisa had met Dr. Matthew Benton soon after she’d arrived at Fort Sully and knew him to be polite as well as friendly toward everyone, civilian and military personnel alike. Shivering, she stood beside him as he ministered to Caleb, amazed at the young man’s confidence. His hands were steady as he probed for the bullet buried deep in Caleb’s chest. Analisa winced with every move of the long forceps. Finally, Dr. Benton dropped the offending metal on a piece of gauze, swabbed the wound once more, and stitched it closed. Caleb had not regained consciousness. “A blessing,” Benton said as he turned bleak eyes on Analisa.
“That’s about all I can do, ma’am.” He dipped his arms in a pan of sudsy water up to his elbows and then toweled them dry. His gaze held steady as he spoke to her, and for that Analisa was grateful. He dealt with her frankly, and she thanked him for his honesty.
“The bullet may have pierced his lung. I haven’t seen anyone recover from this type of wound before, but he’s a strong man and miracles have been known to happen.”
“Dank U wel, Doctor.” Analisa extended her hand as he collected his black bag and moved toward the door. “I never believed in miracles, but Caleb has taught me they can happen. He will live.”
That the young doctor did not agree with her failed to discourage Analisa. Wearily she turned away from the bedroom door and drifted back to Caleb’s bedside. She could hear the others speaking to the doctor in hushed tones beyond the door. The scent of bacon wafted through the house, and Analisa was immediately assailed with nausea. Although she had not eaten since before dawn, the thought of food made her weak.
There was no chair in the room and so she stood staring down at Caleb. His breathing was shallow, his muscular chest bandaged and covered by the sheets, barely rising and falling. She traced his arm, which lay beneath the covers, with her fingertip and then hugged her arms about her. Taking a deep breath, she looked up toward the ceiling and fought the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. Never before had she felt so alone, so shut out. Even with the house full of people, Caleb’s inability to respond to her was almost more than she could bear. Analisa knew she would welcome his silence, even his temper, if only he were conscious and aware that she was beside him.
Outside the gray skies had yet to clear. Their gloomy pall shrouded the room in shadows. It was nearly dusk, but Analisa chose not to light the lamp on the dresser. Too tired to go for a chair, she rubbed her arms again, trying to generate heat in her frozen limbs. Exhaustion forced her to lean against the wall at the head of the bed. Her eyes closed wearily and her chin slumped to her chest. The bedroom door creaked as it opened slowly; a shaft of light and a current of warm air from the wood stove in the parlor were ushered in on a draft. Abbie poked her head into the room, took one look at Analisa standing against the wall for support, and opened the door wide.
“Come on out of here now, ducks,” the old cook encouraged Analisa in a whisper that was overloud in the silent room. “It’s as cold as a well in this room. You need some vittles and then a bath, and I’ll not take no for an answer.”
Analisa shook her head but lacked the strength to shake off the determined cook, who had her by the arm and was leading her toward the parlor.
“Caleb” was the only word she could utter.
“... will be asleep anyway and won’t know if you’re here nor there.” Abbie grabbed Caleb’s robe from the wall hook as she passed by and led Analisa straight through the parlor, where Ruth was lying on the settee with her eyes closed, and into the bedroom that Ruth and Abbie shared. A hot washtub of water stood in the center of the room, a stack of warm towels folded nearby.
“Get out of that wet dress and get yourself washed and wrapped up; then come out and I’ll give you some supper.” Abbie held up her hand as Analisa started to protest. “You’re not gettin’ out of this room until you do.”
“Please ...” Analisa implored and watched the old woman’s face soften. “... Ask Ruth to sit with Caleb until I can go back in.”
Tears filled Abbie’s round blue eyes before she could turn away and hide them. She looked suddenly old, as her crusty demeanor crumbled. “You just get in the bath and I’ll go sit with Caleb myself.”
As soon as Analisa began stripping the muddied dress from her shoulders, Abigail Oats turned and left the room, hastily wiping her eyes with a corner of her apron.
Four long days passed, days in which Caleb continued to hang On a precipice above the valley of death. The doctor came and went, offering Analisa solace, changing the bandage, and sprinkling medicinal powders on the infected wound. He told Analisa to force water into Caleb and to try to keep his fevered body cool. He could do little else. The old Van Meeteren rocker was moved into the room for Analisa to use, as well as a cot commandeered by the major. Abbie brought her meals in to her. She had to force herself to eat the delicacies. After the first day she allowed Ruth to sit with Caleb while she left the room for fresh air and to stretch muscles cramped from sitting. Kase was her companion, walking at her side whenever she went outdoors to sit on the porch and watch the rain or, if the sky was clear, to wander a few yards along the gravel path that fronted the houses.
During her brief periods outside, Analisa became aware of a change in the attitude of some Fort Sully inhabitants. The most obvious was Millicent Boynton, who no longer spoke “to or even acknowledged Analisa. One sunny morning Analisa and Kase were walking slowly along the lane when Millicent returned home, and they crossed paths.
“Good day, Mrs. Boynton,” Analisa greeted the pert blonde as she usually did, only to be met with an icy stare of disgust. As Millicent Boynton swept past, she held her skirts aside as if unwilling to let even the hem of her garment brush against Analisa’s.
“Why is she mad, Mama?” Kase asked innocently.
Staring at the back of the retreating figure, Analisa spoke softly to her son. “She’s in a bad mood today, I guess, Kase. Do not worry.”
Analisa knew immediately what had caused the change in Millicent and some of the others, women and soldiers alike. The word was out that her husband was not the Spanish professor he’d claimed to be but a half-breed Sioux. It mattered little that he worked for the Bureau of Indian Affairs, that he was better educated than most of them, or that his background was one of wealth and society. What mattered was that Indian blood ran in his veins. They would never condone her marriage to him, nor would they forgive her for having chosen to marry an Indian.
She no longer cared what the bigoted residents of Fort Sully thought. She took her brief outings with her head held high. Unlike the shame she had felt while living outside Pella, this new emotion was one of pride, for she knew that Caleb was far superior to those who held such prejudice against him. He had fought for their safety as much as for the lives of the Sioux who needed protection. She knew in her heart that if Caleb possessed two heads and one of them were green, she would love him all the same.
No, she thought, as she sat in the rocker at his bedside late one evening, bundled in his robe and sipping hot tea, it is I who feel sorry for these people. They have so little love and so much hatred in their hearts. She knew then that never again would she allow others to cause her to feel shame.
The world was hot and dark, so dark that Caleb almost feared he was blind. He knew he’d been in this place before and tried to force his fevered mind to remember where or when. He tried to call out to Analisa. He knew she would come if only she knew where to find him. Or would she be afraid to enter this darkness? Caleb hoped she would not, and trusted his love to g
uide her.
A cool, fleeting touch entered into the strange, close heat that seemed to engulf him. Feather light, the touch moved against his brow and down along his cheek and neck. He tried to speak and thank the bearer of the soothing relief, but could not. His throat was parched and dry, his lips unwilling to move. He thought he heard a voice calling him from afar and forced himself to look through the black, endless night that imprisoned him. Caleb fought to lift his weighted eyelids and saw a wavering light somewhere nearby.
A figure bent toward him, a face he’d seen before in a vision, an apparition with wisps of silver hair that framed her face like a halo. He could see her eyes but not their color, yet he knew instinctively that they shone like blue crystals. Again the specter was dressed in white and he called upon his mind to recognize her. It was the princess he’d seen once before, the fairy princess of his father’s people’s legend, the princess who lived in the house of dancing, bobbing sunflowers.
Happiness suffused him when he recognized her. Where had she been? Perhaps in this land of darkness she had waited for him. Caleb tried to speak to her, to implore her not to leave him alone here, at least not until Analisa could find him.
“Are you the princess?”
Had he spoken, he wondered, or just imagined the words in his mind?
“Or are you wanagi, the ghost in my mother’s tales?”
“Sleep,” the spirit commanded. He felt the soft touch of her hand on his cheek. “Your fever is gone, Caleb. You will be well soon.”
“Wait.” He tried to call out to her, but already the vision was fading and he felt his eyes closing against the weak light around her.
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