“Thank you for reassuring me,” Jessie said, reaching over and hugging him. “Lone Wing, you are so dear.”
He returned the embrace; then as Jessie scooted back to where she had been sitting, he looked again at the graves.
His eyes lingered on one in particular. “I find it so hard to believe that the Old One, our people’s Historian, is dead,” he said, his voice breaking. “He was all that was good on this earth. How could anyone have killed him?”
“Those who came today and took the precious lives of your loved ones had no sense of what it is to be good,” Jessie said.
She closed her eyes as she recalled her mother and father in their caskets on the day of their funerals. How needlessly they had died.
Her jaws tightened when she envisioned the look of victory on Bulldog Jones’s ugly face, even though she had never actually seen it. She just knew that he must have felt the thrill of victory. She hoped today that look would be erased forever.
“I hope he dies slowly,” she found herself saying aloud. She opened her eyes quickly, blushing when she saw Lone Wing gazing at her.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I . . . I . . . was thinking of the day Bulldog Jones left others dead . . . my mother and father.” She hung her head. “I have to admit that I want him to feel the lingering pain of death, to know that he has killed his last victim.”
“It is only natural that you would think that,” Lone Wing said. He reached a comforting hand to her cheek. “I am fighting the same feelings. That man cannot die slowly and painfully enough to satisfy me.”
Lee-Lee had awakened and she came to sit on Lone Wing’s other side. “Lone Wing, I still cannot believe that I am with you, and that we have a long life ahead of us, together,” she said, tears sparkling in her beautiful dark eyes.
She looked over at her mother, who still slept. “Ai hao, my mother is no longer an unfortunate,” she murmured. “She is brave and free.”
That word “free” made Jessie look quickly at Lone Wing. She wasn’t sure if he felt truly free, now that his people would be living a life ruled by the United States Government.
How shamefully the government had treated the Indians. But nothing could be done now to change the past. No doubt it would be written down in history that the government had finally gotten the best of the “savages,” taming them like some would tame wild horses.
“Ho, Lee-Lee, you are free, and you will stay with me and my people and be sheltered and loved by us all,” Lone Wing said.
To him freedom was a feeling inside one’s heart. He would never allow himself to feel anything less than free, even though the United States Government might try to dictate everything his Fox band would do.
“I only wish that Tak Ming were here to feel the same freedom and love that I feel,” Lee-Lee said, a sob catching in her throat.
“Who is Tak Ming?” Jessie asked.
“My brother,” Lee-Lee murmured, as Lone Wing wiped tears from her cheeks with his fingertips. “He died on the big ship that brought us from China.” She lowered her eyes. “My brother was not a strong man. He died after only a few weeks out at sea.”
Jessie’s heart broke for the young and beautiful woman. She went over and held her in her embrace. “I can see how much you miss your brother,” she said softly. “But it is good that you and your mother made the passage alive. And now, Lee-Lee, you and your mother will never have to feel like slaves again. You will be loved by the Sioux.”
She didn’t see Lee-Lee looking past her shoulder at Lone Wing. The look in her eyes was proof that she loved the young man who had befriended her.
“I already feel very loved,” Lee-Lee said, smiling at Lone Wing through her tears.
“That is wonderful,” Jessie said. Then her heart skipped a beat as she heard horses arriving in the distance. How she hoped they were bringing her loved one back to her.
She stood quickly and stepped away from Lee-Lee and Lone Wing. Her pulse raced when she saw the riders in the distance and realized they were the Sioux, not the outlaws. She was now sure that the Sioux had been victorious and the damnable outlaw and his gang would spill no more blood.
Her heart melted when she made out Thunder Horse in the lead, his chin held high and victorious.
The sound of the horses had awakened everyone who had been sleeping beside the fire. Quickly, they scrambled to their feet.
The women broke into victory songs as the warriors who had stayed behind to protect the village ran to meet Thunder Horse.
Thunder Horse waved to his warriors as they approached him, then rode past them toward his people, who were standing and singing for him. His eyes smiled into those of his people. Then he spotted Jessie standing there, tears filling her eyes as she smiled and waved at him.
Jessie broke into a run and met him halfway.
He dismounted and took her into his arms. “It is done,” he said with deep feeling.
He stepped away from her and faced his people as the rest of his warriors came into the village and dismounted. He smiled all around him at his people as silence fell among them.
He raised a fist of victory into the air. “It is done, and not one of our warriors fell or was injured during battle!” he cried, the war paint still gleaming on his face and bare chest. “It is time now, my people, to move onward with our lives.”
Jessie was choked up with a happiness she had never felt possible as she watched everyone take turns hugging Thunder Horse and the other warriors.
She was so proud of the man she adored. It was a miracle that no one had died, or even been injured.
“Will you come with me?” Thunder Horse asked as he came to Jessie, his eyes searching hers.
She wasn’t sure where he was going, but she knew now that she would go anywhere with him, anytime.
She walked with him to the river. She held his hand as he led her down into the water, clothes and all. She stood with him as he washed the war paint from his face and body, then turned to her and embraced her, where they stood waist high in the water.
“We will now begin the rest of our lives,” he said, his voice filled with emotion as he searched her eyes. “But we do not have time just yet for a wedding ceremony. It is imperative that we start on the long journey so we will not have to answer for what we did today.”
“But you took the lives of outlaws,” she protested. “No one could fault you for that. They have been wanted men for some time now. Posters of Bulldog Jones hang in all the jails, and even banks and post offices. You have done everyone a favor. How could anyone fault you?”
“My skin is red; the men whose lives my warriors and I took today were white,” he said, his voice drawn. “That is where the difference lies. So you see, my love, we must put many miles between us and those who look for any excuse to take action against the red man.”
“Oh, surely not. The fact remains that you did do everyone a favor,” Jessie said. “Now there will be no more deaths or destruction left by that madman outlaw and his gang. There will be peace.”
“Ho, I did a favor for the white people, but since they would enjoy finding a reason to arrest me and my warriors, this might be all they need to take a few more red men as captives in their iron-windowed jails,” he said. He brushed a soft kiss across her lips. “We must leave. Now.”
“Everyone is ready,” Jessie murmured. She walked out of the river with Thunder Horse, water dripping from the long fringes of her dress.
“Change your clothes as I change mine and then we will be on our way,” Thunder Horse said. He stopped and turned Jessie to face him. “My woman, the journey will be long. Will the child in your womb be able to endure it?”
“I am strong, so I am certain the child I am carrying is, too,” Jessie said, placing a soft hand on her stomach.
He embraced her again. Then they took clothes from their travel bags and went to change behind a tall stand of bushes.
When they stepped out into the open again, everyone was lined up, the pa
ckhorses and travois at the rear.
Thunder Horse stepped forward. “Remember, my people, that a part of us all will always remain here,” he cried. “But it is important that we create the same feelings for the land where we establish our new homes.”
There were soft chants and grunts of approval, and then the procession began.
Jessie was on her horse beside Thunder Horse and his powerful steed.
Lone Wing was on his pony. Lee-Lee was sitting behind him on the pony, her arms twined lovingly around his waist.
Jade was walking with the women, her chin held high, her eyes filled with peace.
Jessie looked forward to her own new life, to living with the Fox band of Sioux as one happy family.
She laid a hand on her belly again. She had not been completely honest with Thunder Horse. She was not really certain her child would be able to endure this long journey, but she would fight hard to keep it safe.
Chapter Thirty
The journey had been long and sometimes gruelling, especially for those who were older. Many stops had to be made along the way for people to eat and rest.
Jessie had soon learned that water was carried in bags formed of the dried intestines of animals. She had found it interesting that when the Sioux expected to walk far, they put fine, dry grass in their moccasins to cushion their feet.
She, too, had walked some days when she had gotten tired of being on her horse. She had filled her moccasins with dried grass. To her surprise she had felt as though she were walking on clouds.
But she was riding again today, filled with an excitement she had not felt now for many days. Everyone now knew that they had only a short distance to travel before they finally reached their destination.
Two Stones and some other warriors had gone on ahead, scouting, and had returned only moments ago saying that by nightfall, fires would be built where their new lodges would soon be erected.
They would have no more long days and nights on the trail.
Two Stones had reported that, upon quick observation, the reservation they were assigned to was very different from those they had seen elsewhere. It would be a place where the next generation of Sioux could still know the thrill of the hunt. The land was filled with white-tail deer, and was beautiful.
Soon they could plant their seeds; there would be a bountiful harvest next autumn.
Two Stones had spoken to those members of their band already camped on the reservation. The most wonderful news of all was that during the time when the Fox band had been separated into halves, hardly anyone already at the reservation had died.
Those at the reservation had felt deep sorrow when they heard about the massacre of their elders by the outlaws, especially the Old One, their band Historian. Learning of the deaths had thrown them into mourning, yet at the same time, they were grateful to the Great Spirit that they would finally be reunited with their chief and everyone else who had survived the massacre.
They would finally be as one heartbeat again, sharing the same hopes and dreams.
Jessie looked around and saw the relief in everyone’s eyes as they learned they were almost at the reservation.
She gazed at Jade. The older woman had stopped walking long ago. She had made most of the journey on a travois that Jessie had helped prepare for her with Lone Wing and Thunder Horse.
Jessie had learned that a travois consisted of a set of rawhide strips, securely lashed to poles that were harnessed to the sides of a horse.
The free ends dragged on the ground, providing a stretcher of sorts for the happy passenger whose feet ached too much to take another step!
That had been Jade. Her feet had been swollen and bleeding, like many of the other women, who were now on travois, too. When they arrived at their new home, they would have plenty of time to recuperate. Their feet would heal.
Yes, many women were on the travois now, weariness etched on their faces.
There had been five births on the trail. Fortunately, all the babies had survived, as had their mothers.
The remembrance of those babies’ first cries of life made Jessie place a hand on her own belly. Her pregnancy was very visible now. Thus far, the traumatic experiences she had gone through had not caused a miscarriage, nor had traveling on a horse for so many weeks.
But it was certain that Jessie would be one of the happiest and most relieved when she no longer had to be on a horse, hour after hour, day after day. She closed her eyes and envisioned herself sitting beside a lazy fire in her new home, with Thunder Horse sitting next to her. She would lean against him as they watched the fire together.
That was when their life together would truly begin. Up until now, they had had no time to enjoy each other.
At last, they would have the time to be married. They had not wanted to conduct the ceremony while on the trail. They both wanted it to be a special time . . . something they could remember, and look back upon, as the most precious day of their lives.
And they had wanted the ceremony to be shared by all of the Fox band, not just a few.
“Soon,” she whispered to herself, looking over at Thunder Horse.
Sadness swept through her as she gazed at him. Although he was muscled and strong, she could see that the long days on the trail, and the loss of his ahte and so many other loved ones, had taken their toll on him. She could see weariness in the slight slump of his shoulders and traces of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.
That made her heart ache, for these things that now marred his handsomeness proved the weight of responsibility that he carried on his shoulders. He had an entire band who depended on him to make all the right decisions.
Thus far, he had proved to be the leader they needed, for only two graves had been left along the trail. Those who had passed to the other side were people who had been already ill before they began the long journey to the Dakotas.
No matter how much they were prayed over by Hawk Dreamer, the Fox band’s shaman, they had not been able to endure the gruelling trip. Weakened already by illness, they had succumbed to the cold, damp nights and the roughness of the journey on travois.
But the terrible trip was almost over now for everyone else. A new beginning awaited them all!
To Jessie, this land was almost jarring in its loveliness. So much about South Dakota was breathtaking. Even now as they rode beside a river, it seemed to lead into a fairyland of rainbow mesas and flaming buttes.
The banks of the river were thick with blackberry and wild rose bushes. Jessie had learned along the way that the berries growing in sunny places were the sweetest.
Western trillium bloomed pretty and white in the red duff of the pine needles. At Jessie’s left side, climbing slopes of evergreens struggled over fallen timber.
Suddenly the damp air rang out with the song of a cedar waxwing, its beating wings thrumming as it was frightened by the approaching procession of people.
A female pileated woodpecker landed on a sunlit branch not far away, while a colorful male landed beside her.
“We are almost there,” Thunder Horse said, smiling at Jessie. Then he gestured with a wave of a hand toward the distant mountains. “Mountains are important to the Sioux. They are mysterious and powerful. The ‘Old Ones’ said that we Sioux came up out of the earth through a hole in the ground at the base of a special mountain, one which is distant from our people now.”
He paused, then said, “But look around you, Jessie. See the wonders of South Dakota, the tall, white bluffs and the stunted pines. Even the rough terrain, partly covered with buffalo grass, is welcomed by this chief. Finally my people will be together again as one group. It has been too long since we joined together around the night fire to listen to stories and to share our love for one another.”
Jessie nodded and again looked around herself. All was peaceful and quiet.
Here and there were little meadows, looking fresh and green after being covered with snow all last winter. The leaves of the cottonwood and willow trees glistened
with every little breeze.
“Yes, it does seem a paradise,” Jessie said, smiling at Thunder Horse. “We will be happy here, Thunder Horse. All of us will be happy.”
“Reservation life has been forced upon us, so we must make of it what we can,” Thunder Horse said thickly. “And after seeing the land that has been assigned us, I see now how it will work for us.”
He did not tell her that he still did not trust the word of the White Chief in Washington, even though Thunder Horse’s father had been impressed by his kindness and the sincere, polite, and respectful way he had talked with him.
Thunder Horse’s father had said that it seemed as though he was in council with another Sioux, having a friendly parley. He had left Washington with much hope for his people, although he had been told that he had no choice but to take his people onto the reservation.
Still, the White Chief had promised White Horse that life would remain the same for his people. They would still enjoy the hunt without the accompaniment of white soldiers.
“I will hope that my father was not tricked by a man who spoke with a forked tongue,” Thunder Horse said wearily. “Jessie, if that were true, I am not certain what I would do. I would feel that my father had let my people down by being tricked by the White Chief. And perhaps I, too, let them down by listening to my father, who I always felt was astute enough to know when he was being lied to.”
“It will be alright,” Jessie said, edging her horse closer to his. She reached a gentle hand to his arm. “My beloved, you will see that things will work out. Please don’t think anything negative at this time, or become doubtful of what lies ahead. Feeling positive is the only way this will work, darling. Please feel positive, for me . . . and for your people.”
She slid her hand across his arm. “But most of all, Thunder Horse, feel positive for yourself,” she murmured.
He nodded and smiled at her. “You are a wise woman,” he said. “You should be a woman chief.”
Jessie threw her head back in a soft laugh, then smiled again at him. “You have a way with words,” she murmured. “A woman chief? Thunder Horse, you are the only chief I want in our family.”
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