Now he wondered why he had felt that way, when deep down inside he knew even then that it was wrong to be with the white soldiers, leading them where he knew they would take advantage of his own people. He had known of the pony soldiers’ atrocities against many tribes, even that women and children had died.
He had forced those facts from his mind and had ridden proud and tall in the saddle alongside Yellow Hair, pointing the way here and there, expecting many rewards for his alliance with such an important man.
“Brave Heart. . . .” he said as he went to the cave entrance. There was still a fine mist hanging in the air.
He stepped out into it and pulled the blanket over his head as he stared up at the moon that was just coming into view as clouds slid away from it.
He had badly wanted the special title of Brave Heart for being one of Custer’s main scouts.
Had Custer lived through the battle, had he been victorious over those he fought, Night Horse would have been honored with such a title, for he was one of those scouts who advised Custer and rode with him into the center of the battle.
“But now he is dead,” he choked out. “All of those who rode with me and General Custer are dead. I . . . alone . . . survived.”
He gazed into the heavens. “Why?” he cried. “What is the purpose of my survival? Is it only because You want me to suffer these memories that weigh down my heart? Take me, First Maker. Let me die. But please, first let me reach my home. I do want to see my mother’s face one last time. I do want to hear my brother tell me that he can find it in his heart to forgive me.”
Sobbing, he prayed again . . . asking that he be accepted among his people again, so that he would have a proper burial among them.
Then, hanging his head, with barely any life left in his step, he saddled his stolen horse, managed to pull himself into the saddle, and started making his way down the steep incline of the mountain.
He reached deep inside himself for the strength to get to his home.
“Ina . . . brother . . . I am coming,” he whispered.
He clung tightly to the reins as he coughed so hard he felt something tearing at his lungs.
“A-i-i-i, I . . . am . . . dying,” he whispered. “I know I am!”
Chapter Nine
O for life of Sensations
rather than thoughts!
—Keats
The smell of something cooking over the campfire and the bickering of bluejays from somewhere close by in the trees awakened Mary Beth. The growling of her stomach reminded her of how long it had been since she had eaten. She could not imagine anything smelling as good as what she was now smelling.
She raised herself up on an elbow and looked slowly around. The blanket which had covered her fell down to rest around her waist.
It was a crisp dawn. Mary Beth saw the deep shadows of early morning and a hint of pink along the horizon which meant that the sun was ready to rise and warm the world.
She could hardly believe that Brave Wolf had stayed in their makeshift camp the rest of the night instead of pushing onward.
When she had fallen asleep, oh, so bone weary from the long ride, and dispirited from her horrible experiences, she had expected to be awakened as quickly as she had fallen asleep and made to mount the horse again.
Her eyes met now with Brave Wolf’s as he stood over the campfire, his muscled body seeming to tense when he saw that she was awake. She was not sure why seeing her awake should make him tense.
A part of her was afraid of his reaction. What if he had plans for her today that were worse than those experiences she had already survived?
She firmed her jaw and rose quickly to her feet, gazing all the while into Brave Wolf’s midnight-dark eyes.
She ran her fingers down the front of her dress, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. Although it was now dry, the dress still clung to her body.
Brave Wolf returned her gaze steadily. Even with her hair in such disarray and with her dress wrinkled, she was still beautiful.
Because she was such a lovely woman, and white, it would not be wise to travel openly with her during daylight hours. Renegades would want her for themselves, and white pony soldiers would conclude that she was a captive. He doubted that they would ask questions first. They would shoot to kill his men and rescue the woman.
If she was wearing something besides her dress, perhaps she would not be so noticeable.
Without much further thought, he went to his travel bag and took one of his buckskin outfits from it.
Of course he knew that his clothes were much too big for this tiny woman; some adjustments would have to be made.
Mary Beth inhaled the scent of food again, and she noticed that the warriors were preparing their animals for travel. That had to mean they had already eaten. Was she not to be offered food for herself?
She was so hungry, she longed to take whatever was left of the food, but she waited to be told that she could. She didn’t want to do anything hasty which might cause Brave Wolf to tie her up again as they traveled onward. Since he’d left her untied through the night, surely he would trust her during the day when he would be awake and could see her every movement.
Her gaze turned to Brave Wolf as he came back toward her carrying what looked like buckskin attire. When he held the clothing out to her, she raised her eyebrows quizzically.
“Go and change into these clothes,” Brave Wolf said. “Bring your dress back to me. I shall place it in my travel bag. I will return it to you when we arrive at my village.”
“When we arrive at your village?” Mary Beth gasped out. “Are you saying I will have to go with you? I thought you were going to escort me to Fort Henry. Why would I have to go with you to your village?”
“When I find my brother, I must return him to my village as quickly as possible so that my mother will know that he is alive and well,” Brave Wolf said. “Then I will escort you to a fort. Only then.”
“That could take days,” Mary Beth said, tears springing up in her eyes. “I so badly want to be among my own people.”
She still had not told him about David. She was wondering if that had been a good decision. If she did tell him about her lost son, surely he would sympathize with her and listen to reason.
Yet, no. She saw his determination to continue onward to find his brother. She would wait for another time to tell him about her son.
Again she admired him for being so dutiful to his mother, yet Mary Beth had her own rights. Brave Wolf’s decision to keep her with him was wrong. If he would let her go today, while it was daylight, she could travel far before it got dark.
Perhaps she could even reach the fort. She knew it was not far from where the wagon train had been attacked.
But could she truly find her way to the fort alone? Something told her that wasn’t a wise move to make, for this was not safe country for a lone female traveler.
“I have wasted much valuable time by allowing you to sleep,” Brave Wolf said, his jaw tight. “I am wasting time even now as I wait for you to do as you are told. Go. Change into these clothes. I will put some of the food in a bag for you to eat as we travel. I do not have time for you to sit and have a leisurely meal.”
“Ha! Leisurely?” Mary Beth said, yanking the clothes from him. “Nothing about this experience with you is leisurely.”
Then she recalled that she had been allowed to sleep and regretted being sarcastic when she saw the hurt in his eyes.
It seemed strange that this man could have any feelings for her, yet she knew that he did.
When she said something hurtful to him, he did not react angrily. Instead, he looked as though he was stung by her anger and sarcasm.
Was it possible that he cared for her? The fact that he had allowed her to sleep was proof he did.
“Why must I change?” she asked. She gazed at the clothes, then unrolled the breeches and grimaced when she saw how large they were. She gave Brave Wolf a perplexed look. “Why, I shall be swallowed whole by th
ese clothes.”
“I will help you adjust them to a smaller size,” he said, relieved that at least she had seemed to accept the necessity of changing her clothes.
“Oh, alright,” Mary Beth said, then turned and stomped away toward a thick stand of trees, where she could have some privacy to change her clothes, and attend to other matters that needed to be done out of sight of the warriors.
She had found it embarrassing to seek ways to relieve herself while in the company of these men. But thus far, she had managed it.
She hurried out of her dress, then worked herself into the other clothes. She sighed heavily when she saw just how big they were on her.
She shook her head slowly as she rolled the sleeves up so that at least her hands were visible. She then bent over and rolled up the pants legs until she felt she could at least walk in them without tripping.
But when she stood up and the breeches fell instantly to the ground, she again sighed heavily. This wasn’t going to work. But she had to give it a try, for she understood that it wasn’t safe to be seen with these Indians during the daylight hours in her own clothes.
She gathered the waist of the breeches up into a tight bunch at her left side and walked dispiritedly back to where Brave Wolf waited for her.
She saw a look of quiet amusement enter his eyes when he caught sight of her.
He went to his travel bag and removed a long buckskin thong, then tied it around her waist so that she would no longer have to hold the pants up.
“That should do it,” Brave Wolf said. He stepped back and eyed her again. A slow smile curved his lips. “You look like a starved wolf pup.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” Mary Beth said, then raked her fingers through her long auburn hair in an effort to remove the witches’ knots.
When she had combed out the tangles, she dropped her hands to her sides.
She eyed Brave Wolf in wonder when he took another thong from where he had stuffed it inside his waistband, then stepped closer to her.
“Turn around,” he said softly.
“Why?” Mary Beth gasped, her gaze locked with his. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me you are going to tie my wrists again. How on earth do you expect me to eat while we travel? I only have two hands.”
“The thong is not to tie your wrists, but your hair,” Brave Wolf said. He had decided not to tie her again, not unless she attempted an escape. Then he would keep her tied both day and night!
“My hair?” she asked, reaching back to lift its heaviness from her shoulders.
“If left to hang long, the sun will reflect off its brightness, and prove to any passersby that you are not Indian, whose hair is black like mine,” he said softly. “If your hair is tied and held back from your face, then less of it will be seen.”
Mary Beth understood his logic. She nodded and turned to wait for him to place her hair in a ponytail.
When she turned back to him, she saw such gentleness in his eyes, such genuine caring, she felt guilty for having doubted his goodness.
Yet . . . might not that look be forced, as well, to fool her?
She would not trust him totally just yet. He had to prove himself first.
The growling of her stomach was a reminder to both herself and Brave Wolf that she hadn’t eaten. She smiled awkwardly at him, and then he turned, reached down for a buckskin bag, and handed it to her.
“Inside you will find food, but it is best that we go to our steeds now and resume our travel,” he said. He took her by the elbow and escorted her to the same horse she’d ridden before. He lifted her onto the saddle. “Wait until we are on our way, and then eat.”
Mary Beth nodded.
She clung to the bag with one hand and lifted her reins with the other.
She was glad that he hadn’t tied her wrists or ankles. He was trusting her to have more freedom.
His trust, his long looks, his concern, told her he did care for her. Perhaps she had been wrong to mistrust him. Perhaps his intentions were good, and he would return her to her own world as soon as he could.
She looked over her shoulder at the warriors, who were now on their steeds, then glanced down at where the fire had been burning through the night. The cooking food had dripped grease into the flames, emitting tantalizing aromas that even now made her mouth water.
The fire was out. Dirt had been kicked over the fire pit to make it look as though no fire had burned there. The blankets were rolled up and tied on the horses. They were ready to set out again.
They rode across level land and hollow hills. White antelope lifted their heads above the grass as they rode past. The mountain slope was now not far away.
Finally able to eat, Mary Beth nibbled the meat from the bones of what she surmised was a roasted rabbit. At last her belly seemed comfortably full again. She hoped this meal would last her until Brave Wolf saw the need to stop and eat again.
She was sure he would not stop again for hours. She dreaded the long day which lay ahead of her.
The sun was now up and getting warmer by the minute. Back in Kentucky, this season would be called Indian summer.
She gazed heavenward and sighed when she saw golden eagles soaring above her, their wings spread wide. When they were lost to sight, she looked back at the ground. The remains of the rain lay in puddles where there was no grass.
The horses splashed through them and loped onward.
Suddenly Mary Beth stiffened. Fear raced through her as she heard the loud, distinctive roar of a bear.
Brave Wolf grabbed an arrow from his quiver and quickly notched it to his bowstring.
They traveled onward at a much slower gait until the bear came into sight a short distance away, straight ahead of them. Mary Beth froze with fear as Brave Wolf raised a hand in a silent command to stop.
As everyone held still, the large bear lumbered past them, oblivious to the fact that it was being observed.
Mary Beth waited for Brave Wolf to shoot, and was surprised when he didn’t.
“Aren’t you going to kill it?” she whispered to him, hoping the bear would not hear her.
“I never kill needlessly,” Brave Wolf replied softly. “The bear has not seen us. It is minding its business. So shall we mind ours.”
“But when it sees us, we will be his business,” Mary Beth argued. “We will be his meal, especially if you have this strange notion that you shouldn’t kill it.”
“If it becomes a threat, I will not hesitate to send an arrow into its heart,” Brave Wolf said, frowning at her. “But until he is a threat, be still and just watch.”
“But he doesn’t have to see us,” Mary Beth said. “Surely he can smell us.”
“Not while the wind takes our smell away from him,” Brave Wolf said. “Relax. It is best that you let me do what must be done, if it is required.”
Mary Beth nodded and swallowed hard, still gazing anxiously at the bear.
Brave Wolf brought his horse closer to Mary Beth’s. “Do you see how the bear’s head is down?” he asked, having decided that if he explained things to her, she might understand better.
Mary Beth nodded.
“That is an indication that he is looking for rodents and insects,” Brave Wolf said, again watching the bear. “See how he occasionally flips over a slab of rock? I imagine he is looking for ants to lick up.”
“Ants?” Mary Beth said, shuddering. “How horrible.”
She stiffened when the bear began walking toward them on all fours in a strange swaying motion, not looking forward but from side to side.
Then the creature suddenly stopped.
Mary Beth saw why. There were some remains of a dead deer partially hidden amid the tall grass.
The bear rolled the carcass over, sniffed it, then began to dig a hole with its sharp claws and large paws. To Mary Beth’s surprise, it soon buried it find.
The bear then used its large paws to scrape the dirt over the deer, totally covering it.
“The bear has buried his find to le
t it spoil for a while before coming back to feast upon it,” Brave Wolf explained.
“Truly? It prefers spoiled meat over fresh?” Mary Beth said.
Then she sighed with relief as the bear made a wide turn and sauntered away, soon hidden from view in the thickness of the trees.
“We must wait for the bear to get ahead of us before resuming our journey,” Brave Wolf said, watching intently for a possible return of the animal.
Then, finally, they were able to move onward. After some miles they came to a wide, treeless plain, the last straight stretch of land they would traverse before starting the climb into the mountains.
Mary Beth now guessed that Brave Wolf had a set destination, for he seemed to know where he was going.
She hoped he would reach it before too much longer. Only then could she see light at the end of her tunnel, for until Brave Wolf found his brother, she would be forced to travel with him, instead of being able to search for her son.
“David,” she whispered, and his name caused that terrible ache to begin inside her heart anew.
She was so afraid that she might never see him again. If only he had been fortunate enough to have been seen by a contingent of roaming cavalry and saved by them! She would continue thinking that, for only in doing so could she keep her sanity.
She slumped in the saddle as they rode onward toward the mountain slope. Again she was feeling dispirited and as though nothing in her world would ever be the same again.
She had lost her husband. She had lost her son.
She only wished now to be back on her farm in Kentucky with David safe beside her. There she would find solace.
She regretted that she had had to bury Lloyd so far away from his beloved Kentucky. At least if his grave was in Kentucky, she could have gone and talked to him from time to time. She could have placed flowers on the grave every day.
Now she had no grave to speak over, nor to take flowers to. . . .
“A man!” one of the warriors suddenly shouted. “I see a man on horseback in the distance. He seems ill. See how his head is hanging and how he barely holds onto the steed?”
Savage Hero Page 6