“But everyone knows Reginald,” Jessie said. “No one who knows him will help me.”
“I must go now to my room, but you’ll find a way, Jessie,” Jade said, creeping toward the door and slowly opening it. She stuck her head out and looked from side to side down the corridor, then gave Jessie a smile and hurried away.
After Jessie closed the door, she began pacing as she waited for the right moment to leave. She truly had no idea where she would go.
Then someone came to her mind!
Thunder Horse! He was kind. He was caring.
Perhaps he could hide her until she figured a way out of her mess.
And, ah, wasn’t he so handsome . . . ?
She felt she should confide her plan to Jade. She even wanted Jade to consider going with her to seek help from Thunder Horse, too.
But she knew that Jade was scared to death of Reginald and what he might do to Lee-Lee if Jade ran away. Perhaps the first step was for Jessie to escape.
She went to Jade and explained about where she was going, and from whom she would be seeking help.
Jade hugged her. “I so wish you well,” she murmured. “If Thunder Horse agrees to help you, perhaps Lee-Lee and I will soon join you.”
“I’m sure Thunder Horse would welcome you, too,” Jessie said, then gave Jade another hug and went back to her bedroom to wait for an opportune moment to flee. She would be setting out in the darkness of night, alone, and afraid, and hoping for help from Thunder Horse.
“Will he take me in, or will he be too afraid to get involved?” she whispered as she gazed out her window, only now realizing that she had no idea where Thunder Horse’s village was located.
She no longer felt as sure of her plan as before.
Chapter Ten
Thunder Horse’s ahte’s tepee was lit by the burning embers of the lodge fire. Concerned about how his father had seemed to worsen today, Thunder Horse had decided to sit with him for a while longer than usual tonight. White Horse was sleeping now on his bed of blankets and furs, a warm pelt covering him to his armpits.
Earlier, when Thunder Horse had came to see how his ahte was faring, he had become concerned when he heard just how labored his father’s breathing was.
Thunder Horse knew that his father had these spells often now. Thus far, he had come out of them in a matter of hours. But each time he was left even weaker.
Thunder Horse knew that one of these times, his father would slip away from him to begin his long journey to the hereafter to join his ancestors in the sky.
White Horse would become one of the stars in the heavens. Thunder Horse would gaze upon them each night and know that his father would be looking down at him.
His eyes never leaving his ahte as he sat beside him on a blanket on the warm rush mats covering the earthen floor, Thunder Horse drew his knees up against his chest. He held them in that position by wrapping his sleeping robe tightly around his loins and knees.
In this fashion he had made of himself a rocking chair, and even now he slowly rocked back and forth, his troubled thoughts on his father. He knew that his father’s time to leave this earth was near, but would it be days or weeks?
White Horse had proved to have a strong constitution and an even stronger will to live.
When Lone Wing said Thunder Horse’s name outside the lodge, Thunder Horse rose and held the entrance flap aside.
“Chieftain uncle, may I sit with you?” Lone Wing asked, looking into Thunder Horse’s eyes, then gazing past him, at how still White Horse lay.
“Ho, hiyu-wo, come in,” Thunder Horse said thickly, stepping aside so that Lone Wing could move past him.
“He seems so still tonight,” Lone Wing said as he went and stood over White Horse. “Is my grandfather worse?”
He watched Thunder Horse as he sat down by his father. He took the same position as before, again slowly rocking.
“It is hard to say,” Thunder Horse said, then patted the blanket next to him. “Sit. I welcome your company.”
“Should we talk? Will our voices disturb your father?” Lone Wing asked, settling down beside Thunder Horse, his own sleeping robe wrapped about his knees as he tried to imitate the way Thunder Horse was sitting and rocking.
“If we talk and my ahte hears us, that will be good, not bad,” Thunder Horse said, gently touching his father’s cheek, then drawing his hand slowly away again. “His flesh is warm enough. He is still with us for a while longer.”
“He was a good chief before you,” Lone Wing said softly. “But he is now . . . so . . . much smaller than I remember him being.”
“Age shrinks a person sometimes,” Thunder Horse said, sighing heavily. “But all who knew my ahte remember vividly how muscular and able he was before age took him in its iron grip. It is sad to see how much has been taken from him by aging.”
“Ho, very sad,” Lone Wing said softly.
To change the subject, Thunder Horse urged Lone Wing to talk about his own life for a while. To Thunder Horse’s surprise, Lone Wing brought the white woman with the flame-colored hair into the conversation.
“I do not understand how the pretty white woman that we saw kneeling at our worship stone today could belong to such an evil-hearted man as Reginald Vineyard,” Lone Wing blurted out. “Do you think she is his wife?”
Stunned that his nephew had thought of Jessie at all, much less be puzzled about who she might be married to, Thunder Horse looked quickly at him. His jaw tightened.
“I do not want to talk about another man’s woman,” Thunder Horse said. He gave his nephew a frowning glance. “If you want to sit with me and discuss anything further tonight, it is best that we talk about how you aspire to be our people’s Historian, how you will record our people’s history as we have lived it in these troubled times.”
“Ho, that is more important than . . . than . . . a mere woman who means nothing to either of us,” Lone Wing said, seeing that those words made his uncle’s jaw tighten even more.
Deep down he knew that this woman did mean something special to his uncle. It was clear in Thunder Horse’s eyes and voice that he felt something for her, yet apparently he denied those feelings.
The fact that she was associated with the evil white man seemed to trouble his uncle. If that white man had not appeared with his horse and buggy, Lone Wing had to wonder just where that conversation between his uncle and the flame-haired woman would have gone.
“I look forward to the time when I will be the one to record our everyday deeds,” Lone Wing said, trying to change the subject. “I am learning quickly, my uncle. I want to please you.”
Realizing that he had become too gruff upon the mention of the white woman, and knowing that Lone Wing did not deserve such gruffness, Thunder Horse reached a comforting hand to his nephew’s shoulder. “You always please me,” he said, smiling. “Always.”
Lone Wing smiled broadly, but they both jumped when White Horse awakened and started coughing uncontrollably.
White Horse’s eyes were wild, and he seemed to be strangling as he coughed.
“Lone Wing! Go for our shaman!” Thunder Horse cried as he bent to his knees beside his father and wrapped his arms around him, trying to comfort him as he continued to cough.
As he felt his father’s body quiver and quake violently with each cough, Thunder Horse was afraid that these might be his final moments with his ahte.
Hawk Dreamer, their people’s shaman, came hurriedly into the lodge. He carried his parfleche bag of healing materials.
“Leave him to me,” Hawk Dreamer said, placing a gentle hand on Thunder Horse’s shoulder. “Step aside. I will make him better.”
Thunder Horse gave his father over to Hawk Dreamer’s care.
He stood back with Lone Wing and watched as Hawk Dreamer ministered to White Horse until finally his coughing was under control and he was lying back down on his bed of blankets and pelts, his breathing shallow.
“He will be alright now,” Hawk Dreamer said, lift
ing his bag into his arms. “He will sleep again and rest.”
“Thank you, my shaman,” Thunder Horse said, embracing him.
“But do not leave him alone,” Hawk Dreamer said. “When you leave, make certain someone else sits with your father.”
“My sister takes my place when I am gone,” Thunder Horse said.
Hawk Dreamer nodded, then left the tepee.
“He is going to be alright?” Lone Wing asked, coming to stand beside Thunder Horse as he stood and gazed down at his father, who was already asleep again.
“For now,” Thunder Horse murmured. “Will you send your ina to me? I want to go and seek comfort and answers in prayer.”
Lone Wing quickly embraced Thunder Horse, gazed down at White Horse, then left the tepee at a run.
Thunder Horse knelt down beside his father again. He gently touched his ashen cheek. “Ahte, oh, ahte, why must you leave me?” he said, a sob catching in his throat. “As I miss my ina, my sweet mother, I will sorely miss you.”
His father did not respond, only continued to sleep.
When Sweet Willow came into the lodge, Thunder Horse rose to his feet and embraced her. Then he stepped away from her and gazed down at their father. “For a while tonight I thought he was leaving us,” he said, his voice breaking. “But he is still with us.”
He gazed into her eyes. “I must go now and pray,” he said thickly.
“I will stay with him,” Sweet Willow murmured. “Should anything change, I will send Lone Wing for you. You will go to your usual hillside, will you not?”
“Ho, I will be there,” Thunder Horse said, again embracing her.
Then he stepped away from her and left his father’s lodge.
He went to his own tepee and changed into breeches and shirt, putting warm moccasins on his feet.
He then ran to the hillside that was so familiar to him. His ina and ahte had brought him there when he was a child and taught him many prayers as they gazed up into the starry heavens or a brightly moonlit sky.
Tonight there were many stars but only a sliver of moon. He felt the spirits all around him as he knelt and began the prayers that always brought such peace and enlightenment to him.
Tonight, his prayers were not only for his father.
He found himself including a woman. He prayed to understand why he could not get Jessie off his mind.
After kneeling there for many hours, he came out of his prayers with a determined mind. He felt more able to accept his father’s death, and he’d also come to the conclusion that he must ignore the white woman at all cost. He was on this earth to lead his people, to keep them safe, to guide them once they were all reunited on the reservation.
That last thought was a bitter one. He knew he had no choice but to take the remainder of his people to the reservation after his father died. He had given his word to the white chief in Washington.
His mind drifted to the woman again; to the woman called Jessie.
His jaw tightened as he vowed to himself never to think of her again!
Chapter Eleven
Jessie was torn by many conflicting feelings as she sat before the fireplace in her bedroom. She knew that she must leave this hellhole of a prison, yet she still could not quite believe the predicament she was in. She never would have thought that her cousin, with whom she had shared such fun and camaraderie as children, could have changed so much.
She thought about the curse that Jade said had been placed upon Reginald by Indians. Had that curse changed him?
But no. That curse must have been placed on him because of his behavior. She wondered what he might have done to cause the Indians to hate him so much.
All she knew for certain was that she did have to leave, and soon. She had her child to consider if not her own self. She would do nothing to endanger this precious being growing inside her.
Yet she had done that today, hadn’t she, when she had risked her life by saving the Indian boy? It had not even occurred to her not to save him. All she knew was that she must do what no one else had done.
And she would never forget the young brave’s smile of gratitude. Yes, she had done the right thing, and as far as she knew, it had not harmed her own child.
But now?
What would her leaving do to her child? If she didn’t find a place to live, where she had good nourishment while she was pregnant, wouldn’t that be almost as harmful as staying with Reginald, at least until after the baby was born?
Oh, what should she do?
Did she truly dare leave Reginald’s house? Would he come looking for her? Or would he be glad to be done with her, especially once he heard that she was with child?
He did not seem the sort who would want a child in his home.
Her thoughts went to Chief Thunder Horse. She wondered how he might react to her being with child if he did, in fact, offer her shelter in his village.
Yes, if she did go to him, what could she truly expect from him? What if he didn’t want to be involved?
She was white, wasn’t she? And . . . hadn’t whites been inhumane in their treatment of most Indians?
“All I need is for someone to let me stay long enough so I can get my bearings,” she whispered to herself.
And then there were Jade and Lee-Lee. How could she forget their plight? They were in danger as long as they were at the mercy of her cousin.
But she had to put her child ahead of everyone. She must do what was best for her baby!
“I have no money,” she whispered, rising from the chair to pace the room. With no money, she could not even travel back to Kansas City, where she did have friends who might help her in her time of trouble.
She didn’t dare steal from Reginald. He would be out for blood if she dared to take anything of his.
“I have no choice but to try to find Thunder Horse’s village,” she said aloud, stopping.
She looked with a start toward her closed door when she heard Reginald screaming and running down the corridor. He must have had another nightmare.
But Jade had said that she’d given Reginald a potion to make him sleep more soundly than usual.
Had it, instead, intensified his nightmares?
Cold shivers raced up and down her spine when she heard Reginald screeching and hollering, “Get that snake away from me! Please, oh, Lord, save me!”
Then suddenly everything was quiet again.
Jessie wondered whether he had returned to his room, and if so, would he go to sleep again tonight?
Had her opportunity to leave passed her by? Would she have to wait another long day before finally gaining her freedom?
She hurried to the door.
She winced with pain when she placed her sore hand on the knob, then opened it very slowly and carefully just in case Reginald might still be in the corridor.
Just as she opened it, she gasped, for Reginald was on his knees only a few feet away.
His pajamas and face were wet with sweat. His eyes were glassy and wild as he looked over his shoulder and saw her standing there, her eyes wide as she stared back at him.
Jessie jumped when Reginald leaped to his feet and stepped directly in front of her.
“What are you staring at?” he stormed at her.
He grabbed her painfully by the shoulders and shook her. “Quit staring at me!” he shouted, spittle running from the corners of his mouth as he looked hysterically into her frightened eyes.
Afraid now of what he might do, for he seemed totally out of his mind, Jessie felt nauseousness sweep through her. Her shoulders hurt from his fingers digging into them as he held her in a tight grip.
“Oh, no,” she cried, knowing that there was no way to hold back the vomit. It spewed out, most of it landing on Reginald’s pajamas and his bare feet.
He yanked his hands away from her as he stared down at the mess all over the front of his pajamas. He shivered with disgust when he saw the vomit on his bare feet and felt the heat of it creeping between his toes.
Jessie recoiled from the blow, and when Reginald seemed ready to hit her again, she took a shaky step away from him.
“Please don’t,” she cried as she wiped her mouth clean of vomit with the back of her sleeve. She put her hand to her cheek. It was hot from the blow he had inflicted on her.
“I . . . I . . . am with child, Reginald,” she sobbed. “Please! You might harm my baby! Reggie, oh, please remember how close we were as children. Remember how we cared for one another when either of us fell, or got stung by a bee. Reggie, please, oh, please.”
He looked taken aback by her announcement. He stared at her, his gaze moving down to where her hands lay protectively over her belly.
Footsteps could be heard coming down the corridor, but he ignored Jade, even when she stopped only a few feet from him, her eyes wide, her whole body trembling. All his attention was focused on his cousin.
“Jessie, I don’t want a whining brat around my house,” he shouted. “Nor my expensive things. You are enough to deal with. I’ll take you to Doc Storm tomorrow. He’ll get rid of the baby. The baby’s father is dead anyway, so why have the child?”
Jessie felt the color leaving her face and an iciness she had never known before circling her heart.
Had she heard him say those terrible things?
Did he actually think she would allow anyone to abort this child?
“How could you say such things to me?” she asked, her voice quivering with emotion. “How could you think I would agree to such a thing as that? Reginald, what has happened to you? I . . . don’t . . . know you at all. You aren’t anything like the boy you were those years ago.”
“Just you shut up,” Reginald yelled, flailing his arms in the air. “You’ve come here and disrupted my life by telling me you’re with child, and you think I’ll allow it? No, Jessie. I won’t. You’ll go with me to the doctor tomorrow and do as I tell you.”
He shrugged. “Anyway, no one will believe you about having been married,” he snarled. “They’ll say that you’ve come this far to live with me only to hide from those you knew back where you came from . . . that you’d sinned and got pregnant out of wedlock and fled to hide the sin.”
Savage Arrow Page 8