Destiny's Bride

by Ginger Simpson

  “I can’t believe yer making me leave without at least a cup a coffee,” Luke complained.

  Walt stood over Luke as he rolled his blankets. “I told you I wanted you gone at first light. So get your things and go.”

  Luke didn’t challenge him. He cowardly mumbled under his breath and continued packing his belongings.

  Cecile, still in her bedroll, thought it strange that a man as large as Luke cowered before Walt. Although he was tall and well built, Luke outweighed him by at least fifty pounds. Evidently brawn and bravery weren’t always a match.

  Luke’s horse was saddled and ready. When he grudgingly pulled his hefty frame astride, Cecile stifled her laughter. His nose was swollen twice its normal size, and he sported two very black eyes. She turned to Walt. “I knew from the first minute I saw him he was bad news. Thanks to you, he got what he deserved. And… from now on, I’m going with my gut instinct about people.”

  Luke didn’t say a word, just shot a deadly glare, urged his horse into a gallop, and left the two in a giant swirl of powdered dirt.

  Cecile held the blanket up to her nose until the dust settled. “What a relief. I’m glad he’s gone,” she said. “Thanks again for looking out for me. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “I’m sorry I trusted Luke to behave. I should have known better when I saw how he looked at you.”

  “I understand why you trusted him. He saved your life.” She touched his arm. “Let’s just forget about him and have some breakfast and get ourselves moving.”

  Walt smiled that same dazzling smile that had attracted her the first day he rode into Silver City. She was reminiscing, when he invaded her thoughts. “Maybe we should forgo the coffee for the sake of saving water. Without Luke to point us in the right direction, we might have to do with what we have on hand.”

  “You’re right. Better to be safe than sorry.” While gnawed on a two-day-old biscuit, she wished for something to wash it down. They’d brought plenty of ready-to-eat food, if only they’d brought more water. Besides wanting a great big drink, she wanted to wash her face. But they ate, packed up their belongings, saddled their horses, and resumed their journey.

  The conversation lagged without Luke and his stories, but Cecile was happier not contending with his vile language and obscene looks, especially when he thought Walt wasn’t paying attention. She heaved a sigh. “Notice how much nicer it is without Luke’s constant prattling?”

  “Sure do. If only he spent as much time killing those bears as he did talking about it, he’d have enough fur to last him a life time.”

  She and Walt shared a good laugh at Luke’s expense.

  Near midday, Walt suggested stopping. “Let’s have a bite to eat. The horses can graze for a while before we push on.”

  “Sounds good to me. My backside is tired of being in the saddle.”

  Walt spread out a blanket. “I can’t guarantee the ground is much more comfortable than your saddle.”

  The sun beat down directly overhead. “It’s so hot,” Cecile grumbled. “Why didn’t we find a tree to rest under?”

  “Really, Cecile. If you haven’t you noticed, they aren’t plentiful on the prairie. Look around. Do you see one? Trees generally grow in groves, and they’re usually miles apart. We could’ve waited a couple more hours to find one, but I thought you might be tired and hungry.”

  “Sorry, I guess I’m just cranky. Here you are trying to be nice and all I can do is complain.” She sat and took a sip of water, careful to draw only enough to quench her thirst.

  The horses nibbled on the tall range grass. Cecile wondered how they went so long without drinking. She wiped beads of perspiration from her brow.

  Walt scanned the horizon. “We just need to keep riding south for another day. Once we get to the river, it’s a cinch to find your village.”

  “You mean we’re only a day from water?”

  “Yep.” He took out the food bundle.

  Her village… it sounded strange. As elated as she felt to be going back, she still worried about Walt. How was he going to feel when he had to leave her? She took the bread he offered and resolved to deal with things as needed.

  With no breeze, it was too hot to sit motionless beneath the baking sun. “Why don’t we just eat while we ride?” Cecile suggested. “I’m burning up. At least if we’re moving it feels like there’s a breeze.”

  They munched on the salt pork and biscuits Aunt May sent—the pork not a good idea when trying to ration water, but since water wasn’t far away, Cecile didn’t have to sacrifice long. The dry prairie grass, already brown and brittle from the heat, snapped beneath the synchronized movement of the horse’s hooves. “Oh, I wish I’d worn a hat.” She mumbled.

  Walt turned and smiled. “I recall you complained about the same thing while we worked on the barn. Do you remember?”

  “Of course, I do.” She wanted to bite off her tongue for inspiring the memory. She pushed back stray strands of hair and scanned for water, hoping the subject didn’t lead to more painful recollections.

  She’d been conservative with her water, but her thirst was starting to get the best of her. Walt, however, didn’t appear to have the same problem. He filled his hat from his canteen and let the horses drink from it. She felt pressured to be strong. If he could go without, so could she. The more she thought about it, the thirstier she got. She lifted her canteen to weigh its contents.

  She drank slowly, making sure to lick the last precious drop from her dried lips. That little drizzle would have to last a while. No telling what time tomorrow they’d reach water.

  Tired of the constant plodding, Cecile spurred her horse into a gallop for a change of pace. Walt teasingly sped by her. She hadn’t meant to issue a challenge but he’d evidently seen it that way. Still, the faster pace created a refreshing breeze. Cecile dug her heels into her horse’s flanks, urging it to a full run to try to catch Walt. She was gaining on him when suddenly, to her horror, his mount stumbled and fell. Walt flew over the animal’s head, landing several feet in front of the fallen steed.

  “Oh my God!” Her scream sliced the silence.

  Walt’s horse lay on its side, a bone protruding from one hind leg. It whinnied in pain and made no attempt to stand.

  Cecile spilled to the ground before her horse halted and raced to Walt. “Are you all right? Please speak to me. Walt?”

  He was motionless. Blood streamed from a terrible gash in his head, ran in rivulets down his cheek and spilled onto the dirt. She ran to his saddlebag and grabbed a shirt to use as a bandage. His half-full canteen hung on his saddle horn and she snagged that, too. Her heart felt as though it might beat through her skin.

  She tore the shirt in half and used part to dress the wound. Being careful not to spill any precious water, she wet the edge of the other piece and washed the blood from his face. “Walt, can you hear me? Please wake up.”

  He didn’t respond. His pallor was gray and his breathing shallow. She lifted his head and tilted the canteen toward his mouth. “Drink, Walt. Oh please….”

  His lips pressed into a thin line and the water dribbled down his cheek. His body remained limp and lifeless.

  Chapter Forty-six

  Cecile set up camp around Walt before dark. She gathered some good-sized sticks and picked some dry grass for the fire. Walt’s injured horse made pitiful sounds that stood the hair on her neck on end. She lacked shooting skills, but knew what had to be done. Pulling Walt’s rifle from its sheath, she put the end of it against the animal’s head and pulled the trigger.

  The recoil from the shot knocked her on her backside. Uninjured aside from the disgust of her deed, she got up and dusted herself off.

  When the fire ablaze, she turned her full attention to Walt. She tried again to get him to take a sip from the canteen but to no avail. He hadn’t moved since the fall, and the cask trembled in her hands. What more could she do? She couldn’t leave him to go for help, and without the other horse, she ha
d no way to transport him. If only she had some saplings, she’d build a travois to move him.

  Pushing his bandage aside, she checked the wound. The bleeding had stopped, but the gash looked awfully deep. He’d lost a lot of blood, and in the dim firelight, his color looked worse. Emptying her canteen, she dabbed his face to try to wake him. All she could do now was wait and pray.

  Placing her bedroll next to him, she snuggled against his limp body and draped a protective arm over him. Maybe a miracle would happen overnight. As the last ember of the fire faded, she fell into a restless sleep.

  She woke as the morning sun peaked. The awful memories flooded back and she quickly sat up and touched Walt’s face. Her warm fingertips against his cool skin told her he was gone.

  Oh no. Please God, he can’t be dead. Not Walt. No!

  Her hands trembling, she checked for a pulse and found none. She collapsed in tears over his lifeless form. She’d lost him twice in a lifetime.

  With no more tears to shed, she pondered what to do with his body. His beautiful body—as handsome in death as in life. She had nothing to dig a hole with and couldn’t stand the idea of leaving him to the elements and scavengers. After sitting sat next to him for a very long time, holding his cold hand, she concluded what remained was only a shell that once held a beautiful soul. She knelt beside him in prayer. “Please, Lord, take him home and keep him in your loving care.”

  Before rising from her knees, she placed a final goodbye kiss on Walt’s blue-tinged lips then pulled his blanket up over his head. This time he really was gone.

  Cecile mounted her horse and headed south. Her insides felt as empty as the prairie before her. How did God decide when and where a person died? Why did scum like Luke live and Walt didn’t? No answers sufficed.

  Walt had been such a good man, and his death intensified her guilt for making his last days so unhappy. She could only pray he’d be happier now. Maybe calling him home was the Lord’s way of setting things right.

  She looked back, but already the tall grass hid the evidence of the tragedy. She hoped with all her heart Walt had truly understood her decision and harbored no ill feelings toward her. He would always be a wonderful memory in her life.

  The tedium of silence and longing for company made Cecile decide to continue on until she got home. Men like Luke were plentiful, and she didn’t want to risk being caught alone and asleep. The ugly memory of what he’d tried to do to her flashed in her mind, and she longed for Lone Eagle’s arms, missing him terribly and replaying memories of their time together to chase away the bad ones. She’d been a fool to think she could live without him even when her conscience won the battle of go versus stay.

  Strangely, when she put all things in perspective, she felt a sense of freedom. Walt died knowing the truth, and that lessened her guilt. Still, she’d carry a small piece of the blame for the rest of her life for involving him in her trek home. She almost heard his voice telling her to stop worrying.

  Exhausted yet jubilant at reaching the river, Cecile rested on the bank and gazed at the full moon’s beautiful reflection across the swift-flowing water. She was that much closer to Lone Eagle and Two Clouds. Cupping her hands, she savored the cool, refreshing liquid that filled them. She dunked her face beneath the surface, attempting to wash away a coating of dust and her tiredness.

  Determined to complete the last leg of her journey, Cecile re-mounted and rode westward along the riverbank. Occasionally she heard the sound of a fish, splashing as it jumped out of the water. In the distance, the crickets continued their song. The closer ones hushed with caution as she passed by. Her eyelids grew heavier and the steady motion of the horse threatened to rock her to sleep, but she hummed to keep awake. The tune of “Red River Valley,” was all she remembered.

  The sun rose behind her, and the animals around the river came alive after their night’s rest. Tiny field mice and jackrabbits scurried in front of her horse, diving into the tall grass for escape. A cool morning breeze blew through her hair, whipping loose strands about her face as a reminder to stop and freshen up before she reached the village.

  The pants she wore were her only pair, but she had packed a clean shirt. Reining in her horse, she dismounted next to the riverbank. She tied the reins to a cattail and dug through her valise to find her clothing change and brush.

  When she unfolded the garment, the green ribbon Walt had bought for her fell on the ground. An image of his cold, gray body flashed through her mind, but she shook the thought away. She refused to remember him in any fashion other than the first time she laid eyes on his handsome face.

  She stuck the ribbon back in her case and knelt next to the river, washed her face and hair, allowing the cool water to refresh her parched skin. Rising from the bank, she twisted her locks to remove the excess water, then changed her shirt. Having no need for the dirty one, she threw it on the ground. It wouldn’t be long until she was back in her favorite doeskin dress.

  She brushed her hair back and considered tying it with the green ribbon, but paused. Why hold onto memories or any attachment to her past other than those she carried in her heart? Cecile retrieved the silken strand and threw it in the water. The ribbon drifted away with the current, taking with it all her doubts about her decision to come home.

  Chapter Forty-seven

  The outline of tepees appeared in the distance and Cecile wanted to shout with joy. Riding closer, she heard the familiar birdcall—the one she’d heard when she first came to the winter camp with Lone Eagle. Her heart raced with anticipation, and she urged her horse to a gallop.

  A rider approached and Cecile recognized Little Calf, one of the younger braves. He held his lance in striking position as he neared her, but she held her hand up in the signal of peace and friendship “Little Calf, it’s Green Eyes.” She spoke in Lakota.

  A look of recognition flashed across his face and he lowered his weapon. “Hau, Green Eyes. It is nice to see you.”

  Holding his hand to his mouth, he transmitted the call telling others all was well, then reined his horse in alongside hers. Unlike the first time she came, she had no fear in her heart, only joy to see the people she held so dear.

  The excited villagers crowded her horse, calling out words of welcome. She responded to the greetings, but all the while her gaze scanned the crowd for Lone Eagle. Although she didn’t find him, she did see Rain Woman… and next to her stood Bright Star holding Cecile’s beautiful baby boy. He’d grown so in such a short time.

  Cecile pushed her horse through the maze of people, eager to hold him.

  The crowd cleared enough for her to dismount. Singing Sparrow and Rain Woman immediately converged on her. Tears of happiness streamed and peals of laughter flowed as Cecile hugged each of them. “Oh, I’m so glad to be home.

  Pulling away from their loving hold, she laughed. “Let me go, I’m not going to disappear. I just need to see my baby.”

  Although she’d only been gone for a short time, she feared Two Clouds might have forgotten her. With trepidation, Cecile walked up to Bright Star. Two Clouds knew put out his pudgy little arms, begging to be held and fell into his mother’s embrace. He giggled as she planted kisses all over his face. “Oh, my son, you’ll never know how much your mother has missed you. I will never leave you again.”

  Placing the child on her hip, she again searched for Lone Eagle, her gaze darting from face to face.

  “He is not here, my daughter,” Singing Sparrow said, as if reading Cecile’s thoughts.

  “Where is he?” Her shoulders drooped.

  “He and a few others went to scout for the trail of the buffalo. They have been gone for two suns.”

  “Do you know how long they will be gone?” She didn’t think she could wait another minute, but now it seemed she had no choice.

  “He should return soon. Don’t look so sad, little one.”

  Cecile’s disappointment lasted only for a moment. Two Clouds reached up and tugged at her nose and giggled. “Oh, sweet
heart, that sound could cheer up anyone. I hope your father is as happy to see me as you are.”

  Rain Woman plucked her away from the crowd. “Come with me. You must be tired from your journey. While you rest, you can tell us about your adventure.”

  Singing Sparrow and Little Dove shuffled along behind.

  The moment they entered the lodge, Rain Woman yanked on her shirt and sneered at her pants. “You must get rid of those awful clothes. Is that how you want to greet your husband?”

  Cecile glanced down then back up. “I must look pretty awful. Little Dove, would you go to my lodge and look under the blankets for my favorite dress?”

  “And I will watch Two Clouds while you go to the river and bathe.” Rain Woman took the child from his mother.

  “Okay, okay,” she said laughingly. “I get the hint. I must smell pretty awful about now.”

  Singing Sparrow handed her a buffalo robe. “You may wear this to the river.”

  ***

  Cecile spent an extra long time enjoying the feel of the cool, refreshing water on her tired body. She returned wrapped in the robe, feeling much more alive and awake. Before she dressed, she rubbed her body with fragrant oil Rain Woman had concocted from various herbs.

  Little Dove returned with Cecile’s wedding dress. “I brought this one because today is a special day.”

  Cecile clutched it to her for a moment, remembering the happiness of her wedding to Lone Eagle. “Thank you, Little Dove. You’re right, it is a special day. This dress is appropriate for the occasion. I intend to remind my husband just how married he is.”

  She giggled at her bold statement, then pulled the dress over her head. Its soft and silky fabric slithered down her body, making her realize how much she’d missed wearing doeskin. She happily slipped into her comfortable moccasins. “Rain Woman, you will be happy to hear that I intend to burn my old clothes. I won’t ever need them again.”