Evelyn felt flushed and also awed. To hear of his vision was like a revelation, like opening a doorway to all her confusion. So, she was destined to come here! And perhaps Wild Horse did live within this man! It was a chilling experience. Never in her life had she been more sure there was a God and that that God was the same as the God worshiped by Black Hawk. It was the only explanation for their dreams being so closely linked. She could see by his eyes that he was thinking the same, that he, too, was astounded by what he had learned today.
Evelyn turned away from him, fighting the sudden and powerful urge to step into his arms and let him fold them around her. This was wrong! All wrong! What was she to do? So what if they had had the same dream? What did it mean? What were they supposed to do about it? “I think I should leave,” she told him. “I think we both need to think about these things, and what it all could mean. I am very confused right now, Black Hawk. To realize we could be so spiritually connected without ever knowing each other is… I don’t even know how to explain it. In a way it frightens me. I have never had such an experience, and until now I would not have believed such a thing could be.” She felt him move close behind her again, sensed that he wanted to touch her, but he did not.
“It is not so hard for me to believe it,” he answered. “Your people long ago lost touch with the spirit world the circle of life, and how it is connected with the earth, the heavens, Wakantanka. Our visions have much meaning, Evy, and there is no limit to the power of the spirits. That is what is wrong with your people. They try to understand that which is not meant for us to understand. They try to make reason where there is no reason. They try to put their God in His proper place. They do not see Him as having no limits of space or time. They try to control their own lives, when we have no control at all. It is the Great One who leads us, gives us life, takes life away. Trying to control these things, I think, is what leaves your people without vision, and makes them mean and frustrated. They want the power, but the Great One will not allow it. Having the same dream is not something to fear, Evy, or to worry about in confusion. It just is. It is something we must both accept and wait to discover its meaning.”
She finally turned to face him again, awed by his wisdom and simple faith. “I have never looked at it that way.”
He smiled softly. “When you do, you will begin to think more like the Sioux. You will not center your mind on little things, but on the universe and all that it holds. I only learned your language and want to learn your letters and numbers because it will help me in the white man’s thinking, but to me these things mean nothing. Your people think that knowledge will give them the power to change the world, like a God. I tell you now, I believe that white man’s knowledge will one day destroy him. I only want that knowledge so that perhaps I can help stop the destruction.”
She shook her head. “I wish Reverend Phillips could hear what you just said, him and other preachers and scholars. I never believed—”
They both heard the whirring sound, but too late. Evelyn gasped, unable to finish her sentence. An awful, wrenching pain penetrated her back, just below her left shoulder, and the force of whatever hit her that moment propelled her forward into Black Hawk’s arms. She remembered him grabbing hold of her, then everything went black.
Black Hawk clung to her, his eyes wide with shock. He slowly lowered her to the grass, belly-down, and his eyes widened in horror when he saw that an arrow protruded from her back. He studied it, recognized the red-and-black feathers that decorated the arrow as those used by Two Hands, who had been Otter Woman’s second husband. He looked up in the direction from which the arrow must have come, but he saw no one.
“Otter Woman!” he muttered. “I will kill her for this!”
Evelyn thought she heard someone scream, and somehow she knew it must be her own voice.
“I had to break the arrow,” a man’s voice told her. “I am sorry, Evy. I had to push the head out through the front of your chest. It was the only way because of the way it is made. I cannot pull it backward.”
Whoever spoke rolled her over onto her back, and she was vaguely aware he had pulled her dress and camisole away from her left side. She gasped when she felt another yank, and moments later there came a horrible burning that was so excruciating that she slipped into blessed unconsciousness. When she awoke again, she opened her eyes to notice that the sky through the top of the tipi in which she lay was dark. A small fire burned at the center of the tipi. She closed her eyes again, trying to think.
What had happened? She had been talking with Black Hawk by the stream, when the pain hit her. Later he had said something about breaking an arrow to get it out. Out of her? Someone had shot her with an arrow?
She tried to rise, but excruciating pain tore through her entire left side and left arm, surprising her so that she cried out.
“Do not move,” a man’s voice said softly.
Someone touched her shoulders gently. She opened her eyes to study his face, his dark skin, dark eyes. “Black Hawk,” she whispered. “What… happened?”
“You were shot through the back with an arrow. I think it was Otter Woman.”
She frowned, wondering why she had ever come to this place. She could be back in Wisconsin, safe, loved, tending to a tidy farmhouse, maybe pregnant with her first child… free of this awful pain. “Why would she… do this?”
Black Hawk sighed, sitting down beside her and putting his head in his hands. “Because she hates you and is jealous of you. She thinks you have stolen me from her and are poisoning me and the rest of our people. She does not understand.”
Evelyn fought the tears that wanted to come. She hated crying, and she certainly did not want to do it in front of Black Hawk and verify what was probably his opinion of white women, that they were weak and easily frightened. Besides, Otter Woman surely wanted her to cry, and she was not about to satisfy that awful woman’s wishes. Nor was she about to grant the woman’s greatest wish by letting herself die. She had never even met Otter Woman. How could she hate her this much? “I… need water,” she told Black Hawk.
He quickly left her side, returning with a ladle of water. He lifted her head just enough that she could swallow some. “You lost much blood after I took out the arrow. I burned the wound with a hot metal rod. I learned from the doctors after Wounded Knee that burning wounds on the inside sometimes helps keep away the bad spirits that bring infection. I hurt you, but I had no choice. I am sorry, Evy.”
His use of her name in the shortened form strangely touched her. She had never told him to call her Evy. He had just started doing it, as though they had known each other for a very long time. She felt the strength of his arm when he lifted her slightly, but she also sensed he could be very gentle. He carefully lowered her again onto a pile of soft furs. “Does Otter Woman… love you?”
Anger and contempt came into his eyes. “Otter Woman loves all men, but she has favorites. I am one. Until today I thought we were at least friends. Now I shall never speak to her again, except to tell her what I think of this. I am not sure I can keep from putting my hands to her throat and squeezing until the life is gone out of her!”
She was going to ask if he loved Otter Woman, though it was obviously an unnecessary question. She felt too sick and was in too much pain at the moment to really care, except that through all her agony, a little part of her was relieved to know there was nothing special between Black Hawk and Otter Woman.
“I must get you back to your own people,” he told her. “I am sorry, Evy. This is a terrible thing. You came here out of the goodness of your heart, and because…”
She watched his eyes. What was that she saw there? Something new. Admiration? A new respect?
“Because we share a vision,” he finished. What was this feeling he had for this white woman? Surely it was not love! He would not soon forget the sight of her breast when he tore away her clothes in order to help her. Such milky whiteness against the dark skin of his hands, her ni
pple pink as a cherry. This desire for her was wrong and could never lead anywhere but to trouble. He touched her hair. “I was afraid for you. If you should die before the vision is fulfilled, it would be a bad thing.”
So, Evelyn thought, that is all he’s worried about, fulfilling a vision. For a moment she actually thought he was going to tell her he loved her, but then, that was a silly thought, wasn’t it? How could there be such feelings between a Sioux man and a white woman, and especially after knowing each other such a short time.
“I must get you back,” he told her. “I will take you in the morning. Then I will pay a little visit to Otter Woman!”
She managed to move her right hand enough to touch his wrist. “Please don’t hurt her,” she said weakly. “She doesn’t… understand. You must explain to her. Tell her I want to talk… to her.”
“You cannot trust her.”
“I will… make her understand.”
Black Hawk sighed, pulling back a blanket and studying her wound. “I wrapped the wound with a piece of your own underskirt.” He grinned a little. “Why do white women wear so many clothes? In the summer heat, you would be much more comfortable in a simple tunic like our women wear.”
She managed a smile of her own. “I will have to think about that. My people… do have a way of… complicating their lives, don’t they?”
He studied the wrapping, which went around her shoulder and over her breast. Evelyn was only dimly aware that he must have had to bare her breast to treat her, yet, strangely, she was not embarrassed or afraid. Perhaps it was only because she was in too much pain for it to matter right now.
“You will have a scar. I am sorry,” he said, apologizing for the third time.
“It isn’t… your fault.”
Their eyes held. “Such beautiful skin you have. It is sad that it should be scarred.”
She felt herself blushing then. How long had his eyes lingered on her nakedness? Had he touched her there? She had been unconscious for a while. He could have done anything. She moved her other hand beneath the blanket to be sure the rest of her clothes were intact, then chastised herself for having such thoughts about this man who she knew would never harm her or take advantage of her. They shared something too deep and sacred for that.
“Stop… blaming yourself, Black Hawk. I’ll heal… and I will come back.”
“No. You should not have to come all the way here. I will begin sending Little Fox to school.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “You will? But what about your… own lessons?”
“I do not know yet. Perhaps I will come, too—one day a week. I must think about it”
She looked around the tipi at the beautiful paintings inside. “I like coming here,” she admitted. “I really don’t mind. It’s… beautiful here… peaceful.” I like being alone with you, Black Hawk. No, she could not tell him that yet. She thought about her mother and Wild Horse, how they used to meet at the pond. Those thoughts led to others: Wild Horse rescuing her, bringing her back… the soldiers! She drew in her breath and met Black Hawk’s eyes. “You… can’t take me back… Black Hawk!”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
“They might not understand… what happened. You could get in trouble. Maybe get hurt!”
“I did nothing but help you.”
She closed her eyes, the memory of watching Wild Horse shot down still vivid in her mind after all these years. “You must be careful. Take me directly to Reverend Phillips… not the agency… or the fort.”
He nodded. “I will make a up a travois when the sun rises and take you to the white preacher.”
Little Fox came to sit at her other side. “Will she live, Father?”
Black Hawk put the back of his hand to the side of her face, and Evelyn felt a surprising comfort in the touch. His hand was big and powerful. She knew he could probably kill her with one blow if he chose, but she felt safe and protected; and she knew that if she asked him to kill Otter Woman for what she had done, he would probably do it. He would kill anyone, man or woman, who tried to hurt her.
“She will live,” he told his son. “There is a vision yet to be fulfilled.”
“Sergeant Desmond wake up your men and start searching the villages!” Lieutenant Teller ordered.
Desmond left to gather some men, and Teller turned to Reverend Phillips, who had made a dangerous ride in the dark to agency headquarters to report that Evelyn Gibbons had never returned from riding out to visit the various villages.
“I knew I never should have let her go doing something like that alone!” Phillips lamented. “She is too trusting!”
“When it comes to the Sioux, Reverend, I don’t trust them any farther than I can throw them,” the lieutenant told him. “I’ll have Sergeant Desmond search every single village thoroughly. In fact, I’ve sent a rider up to the fort to bring back a few more men so we can double the search. You’re lucky we happened to be camped here at the agency for a meeting with Agent McLaughlin or we wouldn’t have men already on hand for a search. You say you think she headed out to the Northwest?”
“I believe so. She was very vague about where she was going, just said she had decided to spend every Saturday visiting various families and trying to convince them to send their children to school. That’s so important to her that she doesn’t even think about her own safety.” Phillips felt sick inside at what might have happened to poor Evelyn… beautiful Evelyn. Why didn’t she look at him the way he wished she would?
Sergeant Desmond reported back to the lieutenant. “We’ll be ready to move in ten minutes, Lieutenant. Any special orders once we find her?”
“Take her to the reverend’s place behind the church and send a man to report to me that you have found her.”
“What if she’s been hurt? Do I arrest any Indian that might have done it?”
“Use your own judgment, Sergeant. If it’s a situation where you and the men would be in danger and it could cause a possible uprising, report to me first. It’s possible her horse could have taken a spill or some other accident that didn’t even involve any Indians.”
Desmond snickered. “Not likely. We’ll find her, Lieutenant, and we’ll take care of whatever the situation is.”
“I’ll ride back and wait at the church,” the reverend told the lieutenant. “With any luck, she’ll be there. Either way, my sister and Anita Wolf will be worried. I have to get back and tell them what is being done.” He climbed into the seat of the rickety wagon he had driven to the agency. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
As Phillips drove off, Sergeant Desmond watched after him, his mind whirling with all the possibilities of what could have happened to the pretty Evelyn Gibbons. He grinned at the thought that some drunken Sioux man might have attacked and raped her.
It would serve the bitch right, he thought. And give me good reason to kill me an Indian. Wouldn’t it be perfectly ironic if that man were Black Hawk? He grinned at the delicious thought.
Thirteen
Vague remembrances danced through Evelyn’s foggy mind. Pain… Black Hawk’s gentle voice… his soothing touch. She thought she remembered drinking a little water, remembered crying out when someone lifted her and carried her out into the sunlight. It was strange, this terrible trap between semiconsciousness and reality. She knew she was on a travois, felt the pain of every bump and jolt, felt the sun beating down on her. She knew it must be Black Hawk pulling the travois, yet everything that happened seemed more like a dream. Sometime after that first time she awoke and talked to Black Hawk… was that just hours ago? She could not be sure. She only knew that sometime after that she had slipped into this world of the living dead, where she was conscious of what went on around her, yet could not seem to voice her words or be sure where she was or what time of day it was. The pain was so deep that she could not even turn her head to try to ascertain her surroundings.
The travois hit another rut, and she groaned.
&nb
sp; “Father!” a boy’s voice called out. “That last bump hurt her.”
Quickly, the travois stopped moving, and moments later she looked into Black Hawk’s dark eyes. “I am sorry for your pain,” he told her. “There is no other way to get you out of here to a place where one of your own doctors can help you.”
“Where… are we?”
“We are out of Eagle Canyon now. Little Fox is riding beside you. I am taking you to your people.”
He left, and his words lingered in her mind. Your people. That was how he thought of her: separate, different, another race, just like she thought of the Sioux… all but Black Hawk. She remembered his soft voice, how he’d held her, how she had grown to love him as just a man; but perhaps it was just a dream that she loved, for it was only dreams that had led her to him. Now she lay near death, a fitting omen that there could never be anything intimate between her and Black Hawk.
What was Evelyn Gibbons, with her college degree and a comfortable life in Wisconsin, doing here… laid out on a travois in so much pain that she could barely speak? What was she doing here with an arrow wound inflicted by an Indian woman she had never met but who hated her enough to want to kill her? Why had she cared about those dreams and what they might mean?
She sensed that many horses were coming now, could feel their thundering hooves against the earth.
“Halt, or we’ll shoot!” someone shouted. The voice sounded familiar. Sergeant Desmond? Visions floated in a confused maze, and she saw Wild Horse, bullet holes ripping into him, blood pouring from his body. Wild Horse! Black Hawk! Soldiers! Sergeant Desmond was not a man to listen to reason. She opened her mouth to cry out, to explain, but the words would not come, except in a small whisper that could not be heard above the shouting that was taking place now. Dust swirled around her.
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