“Let me loose. Please, let me go!” she pleaded, pushing her fists against the man’s broad chest. “Please!” Bridget was sobbing now. She heard the person mutter a few words in a tongue she’d heard many times in her classroom, but couldn’t understand. Bridget looked up, blinking quickly in an attempt to clear her vision. She reached up to roughly brush the tears away when they only filled again. Though her emotions were still racing with fear, unexpected relief mingled with the tension boiling inside of her as she looked up at Ishkode.
“What happened, Bridget Moore?” His voice was low and calm.
Bridget took a few gulping breaths as she worked to steady her voice. “He’s chasing me. He’s looking for my father, but I’m the only one he found. God, he’s going to kill me!”
Ishkode’s eyes moved over Bridget’s attire, taking stock of the fact that she was without a coat in the chilly air and wore no shoes. She could feel herself trembling, but didn’t feel cold. Ishkode removed his tan, fringed jacket and tossed it around her shoulders. It’s rustic smell and the sudden warmth on her skin caused Bridget to shiver. The cuts the rocks and rough terrain she’d run over barefoot began to throb as the injuries finally had a chance to register in her frightened mind. She shifted her weight as the dampness of the ground soaked into her irritated soles. Bridget startled when Ishkode gripped one of her shoulders with his fingers. “What happened?”
“There’s a man who’s looking for my father,” Bridget started over, her voice slightly steadier. “They had a run in a while back and he’s back for revenge. He broke into my house.”
Ishkode glanced in the direction she’d come from. “Which is yours?”
“It’s the only one East of the creek.”
Ishkode looked that way again before directing Bridget with a hand to her back. “Come.”
Bridget took a few steps before thinking to ask where they were going.
“I will take you to a safe place while I go to your house to make sure the man is gone.” Ishkode put pressure on her back again. She was too exhausted and relieved to protest. He made her believe that he could and would take care of this terrifying situation. It took nearly the entire walk for Bridget to realize that they were headed into the reservation. She wasn’t sure where she’d expected him to take her, but certainly not his home. Perhaps there was some sort of communal place in which he intended her to wait.
When they arrived in front of Ishkode’s own house, Bridget stopped short, uncertain. It was obvious that Ishkode had foreseen her hesitancy. “You will be safe here with my mother.” A few heart beats of silence passed before he added. “I promise.”
The shock that he’d brought her here was quickly overcome by the alarming fact that Bridget believed him, trusting that she would be safe here. This was the domain of the “savages” who needed to have a part of them weeded out so that only the man remained. And yet, at the moment she felt far safer there than in her father’s house.
Bridget proceeded Ishkode through the doorway. Ishkode lit a lamp which summoned Megis from the next room. Her expression and tone were questioning. Ishkode gave her an explanation and the next moment he was gone.
Bridget looked over at the elderly woman, wondering how she felt about the intrusion of a white woman. And a white woman who needed charity, no less.
Megis’ expression registered concern as she took in Bridget’s bare feet just as her son had. Bridget was surprised when she beckoned her in English to come toward the fire. “Come.”
Bridget moved on wooden legs, collapsing gratefully when she reached the warmth of the flames. Even as her body began to be warmed, she was reluctant to remove Ishkode’s jacket. In this moment, it felt like security and smelled of him.
Megis joined her holding a bowl of water, a rag, and a pair of socks. She motioned for Bridget to place her feet into the bowl and Bridget gratefully complied. The warm water stung the abrasions on her soles a little, but the sting soon subsided.
“Better?”
Bridget was once again surprised that Megis knew English. She nodded.
Megis, evidently having noted her surprise, smiled slightly. “I learn English from my son.”
Bridget nodded, her own smile a bit weak. “That’s very good.”
Megis laid out the towel so that Bridget could dry her feet and handed her the socks. “It is important to my son.”
Bridget hadn’t expected that considering Ishkode resisted conforming to white man’s ways. She knew that her emotions showed on her face when Megis went on.
“Ishkode wanted white men get on with Lakota very much.”
Bridget found herself pondering what a loss this disappearance of faith in the prospect of an alliance was. What it would be like to have Ishkode be a friend rather than an enemy. “I-,” she began. “I’m sorry that no compromise was reached between yourselves and the white men. For your family.” Once again, she knew that her uncle and father would howl with despair if they could hear her apologizing for the actions of the settlers. What was she thinking? Still, she couldn’t deny the need to offer her sympathy for this family’s situation. Their son and grandson was being forced to live far from them, they’d had their own lands removed from their possession, and their cultural observation had been squelched. Bridget couldn’t justify acting as if it made no difference in her heart of hearts.
“You are kind girl.”
Bridget averted her gaze, feigning intent interest in pulling the socks onto her feet. She wondered what Ishkode had told Megis about her. Surely he didn’t think kindly of the woman who’d barged into his home—not once, but twice—and was working directly with the ones who were steadily attempting to take any hint of Thomas’ culture out of his life.
“You are a kind woman,” she finally answered. Megis certainly was to act kindly toward a girl whose people she had the right to despise. Bridget was having more and more trouble looking at the situation as the treatment of inferiors and could think only of what it would be like if their case were her own.
The corners of Megis’ eyes creased. “Thank you. Better?”
Bridget nodded, tucking her legs up underneath her.
“You are in danger?”
Again, Bridget nodded. “A man broke into my house. He’s angry with my father about land.”
Megis’ expression was knowing. “Ah. Yes. Always land.”
Bridget felt foolish and very uncomfortable. Here she was sitting in a house on a reservation, forced to accept the kindness of a Lakota and she was bringing up land. “I guess it always is.” She shifted, feeling ill-at-ease with this conversation. “Thank you for your hospitality.”
Megis looked uncertain.
“For allowing me here,” Bridget further explained.
Megis’ face cleared and she nodded.
Bridget looked into the fire, thinking that she felt better now that she’d been honest, no matter what her family would think. Megis once again caught her by surprise when she laid a hand on her arm, drawing Bridget’s attention back up.
“You are only girl, like Animkii is only boy. You did not begin this.”
The reality that had begun nagging at her relentlessly since her first encounter with Ishkode came crashing in, flooding her mind, unable to be pushed aside now. She’d taken on the hate of her family. Thomas had too, she believed, but as far as she was concerned, in her own situation, he had far more to be personally angry about than she. It was true—she hadn’t had a direct hand in this dissension, only in maintaining it. It seemed to her that Megis’ words were an unspoken encouragement to consider her own convictions. Again, it was a selfless act on the older woman’s part. Her uncle was wrong in saying that the Lakota had no sense of compassion—that their savage nature made it impossible for them to feel sympathy. She’d been lead to believe just that and yet the very theory was being dismantled before her eyes.
***
Bridget awoke when the crick in her neck became too acute for her to remain asleep. Reaching up to massage
it away, she worked hard at remembering where she was. She froze when she looked over to see Ishkode a few feet away, warming his hands by the fire. She was feeling too sluggish to react much so she just watched him. It was a few moments before he looked over at her.
“Hello,” Bridget said.
Ishkode gave her a nod in response.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes. Are you?”
The question seemed out of place since she’d been the one sequestered here in safety while he went to deal with a matter that he had no obligation to solve.
“Yes, I am fine.”
Bridget straightened, still feeling fuzzy. “What happened?”
“He’s gone,” Ishkode answered, simply.
A sinking feeling came over Bridget.
“Do not worry,” Ishkode’s countenance actually registered mild amusement. “I did not scalp him.”
In truth, the first thing Bridget had thought was that Ishkode must have killed the man. It seemed that her preconceived notions were once again being corrected.
“I took him to the authorities. Your father will receive word.”
Bridget felt breathless and she couldn’t put her finger on the exact cause; it was either because the ordeal was over or because she’d been afraid that Ishkode would be harmed by the wild man. The strange feeling in her lungs at the sight of the Indian warming himself by the fire, all in one piece warned her that it was the latter, though she tried her best to push this from her mind.
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Bridget said, thinking at once that the words were insufficient yet her father and uncle would deem them unnecessary. Still, she didn’t regret them. He’d quite possibly saved her life.
Ishkode did nothing more than give her a single nod.
“What were you doing out so late?” Bridget asked.
“I worked at the mill tonight. I was coming home,” Ishkode said.
Silence settled over them once again.
Ishkode warmed himself for a moment longer before he moved toward the door, motioning to Bridget to follow. “Come.”
Bridget felt the color drain from her face at the prospect of returning to the house.
“I will stay with you tonight,” Ishkode said. “Outside.”
Bridget glanced at Megis who nodded, her lips curving up a little in encouragement. She placed her hands on the younger girl’s shoulders, urging her to stand. Megis held out a pair of moccasins to her. Bridget took them gratefully, not at all relishing the thought of walking back on cold, bare feet.
When she was ready, Bridget and Ishkode made their way outside. They walked along the dark street. Bridget had never feared being alone at night in town, but after the frightening break in earlier that evening, she was keenly aware of the comfort in having Ishkode’s tall presence beside her.
The walk was a wordless one. When they arrived at the front door, Bridget turned to Ishkode. “Why don’t you come in for some coffee to warm you up while I get some blankets and things for your stay in the barn?” She figured that no one would know that she’d invited an Injun inside when she was all alone, but he had saved her life and since he’d be spending the night outside, offering him a cup of coffee and a warm front room in which to stand for a few moments was the least she could do.
Bridget was surprised when Ishkode actually agreed. Her heart thumped a little as she let him inside and lit a lantern. She felt clumsy as she moved about putting water on for coffee, her fingers incapable of doing anything with the Indian’s eyes on her. Ishkode watched everything all the time and didn’t see a need to create words when there was no need for them it seemed. It would have helped to fill the silence, but Bridget knew she’d need to be content with the quiet. She refrained from offering him a chair when she noticed him leaning against the wall. He was more comfortable standing even in his own home.
Bridget poured them each a cup and then glanced around the room, looking for anything that might have been disrupted during the break in.
“He stole nothing,” Ishkode said, reading her thoughts, unnervingly.
Bridget smiled, bitterly. “It was my father he was in search of. God, I don’t know what would have happened if he’d found him here. He seemed downright bent on murder.” It only took a moment for her to realize that her tongue had slipped again just as it had when she’d insinuated that Ishkode’s only method of dealing with the intruder was killing him. Was there no way to avoid the subject of death between them?
Ishkode just took a sip of coffee, remaining silent.
“My father isn’t a disruptive man,” Bridget felt the need to explain. “He’s never had a run in with the law or anything. Joseph has no claim to this land, but he did give my Pa a difficult time when he bought it.”
She’d given far more information than needed, but the shadow of a smile that crossed Ishkode’s face in response to her attempt eased her discomfort a little. Bridget even felt better when he offered a simple “I know.”
It was presumptuous of her, but Bridget hoped his reply meant he trusted her a little more now, just as she’d learned how to open up to him a bit through this ordeal. Her conversation with Megis confirmed Bridget’s suspicions: individual prejudice wasn’t their only option. How she was going to demonstrate this fact considering her position at the school and her own family’s convictions, she didn’t know.
Ishkode set his empty coffee cup on the table and Bridget took up the blankets and pillow she’d gathered. She led the way out to the barn, lighting a lantern and hanging it over the fresh bed of straw near the entryway.
“I hope you’ll be warm enough,” she said as she spread out the first blanket. Ishkode took the other end. Bridget kept her attention strictly on the task of making the bed. Working together on this felt strangely intimate. Looking after him in asking if he’d be alright due to the cold weather also felt invasive. But, he was a guest, after all even if he was staying in the barn.
“I will be fine.”
Bridget finally managed to look at him. The flickering of the lantern in the darkness made his defined facial features all the more salient. “If you’re sure.”
Ishkode nodded.
“All right then,” Bridget said, turning to go. She stopped when she realized she was still holding the pillow. Chuckling uncomfortably, she held the item out to Ishkode.
He took it. “Thank you.”
Bridget nodded, taking her leave. She wondered what it had cost him to say those two words and hoped he’d never wish to take them back.
Chapter 5: A Decision Made
Before Bridget opened her eyes the following morning, visons of the previous night filled her head. She saw Joseph and felt the fear of his enraged rampage. She could hear her own labored breathing as she ran for her life, her senses dulling in terror. Then Ishkode was there….
She forced her eyelids open, blinking at the sun starting to show through the trees. His scent still surrounded her from wearing his jacket. Bridget sat up, rubbing her eyes. She tossed her legs over the side of the bed, searching for something decent to put on, wondering how Ishkode would treat her this morning with the previous evening’s incident gone with the disappearance of the night. She changed quickly into a wool skirt and sensible top, pulling her hair back as she made her way to the door. When she looked outside it was to find the blankets and pillow she’d given Ishkode folded on the front porch. She glanced around, moving toward the barn in search of him. The barn was empty, every trace of her savior the previous night gone.
Strangely disappointed, Bridget returned to the house. She returned to her room. It was Saturday meaning that there was no school and with only herself to make breakfast for, there was no reason to be up yet. She laid down on her stomach, her arm dangling over the edge, brushing something she didn’t recognize. Still disoriented from sleep, Bridget picked up the article of clothing, staring in confusion for a moment before she realized she’d kept the Injun’s tasseled jacket. The reality of all that had occurred t
he previous night hit her full force. Torn between what she felt inside and what she knew her family would think of the encounter, Bridget experienced a few moments of inward panic. She shoved the jacket under the bed along with the moccasins, searching frantically for something to pile on top of them. Her heart pounded when she thought of how it would look if her father were to find them in this house—in her bedroom.
Bridget was about to cover the evidence with a pile of her own clothes, but experienced another bout of panic when she realized what would happen if her mother gathered them all up and discovered the foreign articles while doing the wash. She settled for burying them at the bottom of her hope chest. Just before placing the jacket inside, Bridget held it to her face, breathing in the scent that felt like safety before tossing it in, covering it and shutting the lid.
Bridget fell back into bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her head hurt. She assumed it was a mixture of her tormented feelings and the frightening events of the previous night. She wanted to see Ishkode again. He’d saved her life and maybe even her father’s too. Whether they liked it or not, Bridget’s family owed an Indian a great deal. Soon her father would know and he would ask her about it. Bridget feared that she’d be unable to disguise the conflict rising inside of her or hide the gratitude she felt toward Ishkode. Oh, Lord, if her father found out how she felt….
Bridget shook herself. She had control over her feelings and how she displayed them, didn’t she? There was no reason for Isaiah to suspect anything. True, he’d find out what Ishkode had done for them and how he’d come to Bridget’s rescue, but beyond that, there needn’t be any further complication of the matter. She might have to lie, pretend that the prejudice her family held so dear toward the natives was still rooted in her own soul. The fact of it was, though, that root was slowly, but surely being dug up. Soon, she was sure that any haughtiness she might express toward the Indians would be need to be quite an act. Bridget was not looking forward to the deception in the slightest. In fact, she was dreading it.
Romance: The College Bad Boy: A Young Adult Romance Page 98