The chill of the night air took Yellow Bird’s breath away as she crawled outside the tent and stood. She shivered, looking down at her bare arms, realizing that she had carelessly forgotten to bring a buffalo robe from the lodge. She was tempted to go back and get one, but her fear of being discovered was greater than her reluctance to face the dreaded cold. She would have to find something else for warmth.
Yellow Bird knew the horses were well guarded, so her escape would have to be on foot. She walked carefully and quietly around the back of the tepee. It was pitch dark, as the silvery moon was hidden behind clouds, so she waited, giving her eyes time to adjust.
A stack of deer hides waiting to be cured were piled high. She pulled one off the top and wrapped it around her trembling shoulders. It helped dispel the cold, but the pungent odor was overpowering.
It will have to do, she silently acknowledged. Hesitating a moment, she tried to decide which direction to take. Gathering what little courage she had, Yellow Bird made a dash for the woods.
Her heart pounded so hard, she could hear the rhythm of it in her ears, and by the time she heard running water from the stream, she was nearly out of breath. The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, and she caught a glimpse of the stream just ahead. A few more steps and she was at the water’s edge.
Yellow Bird looked for the shallowest part and waded quickly across, thanking Hanyawat that there had been no guards on the path she had chosen.
By the time she reached the other side of the stream, she was shivering badly. Her moccasins were soaked, and the hem of her tunic was also wet. She wrapped the smelly deer hide tightly around her shoulders, and ran for all she was worth. Yellow Bird didn’t stop or even look back until the first light of day. She was hungry, thirsty, and utterly exhausted.
Dropping to a fallen log, she opened her satchel of provisions. She ate one of the kouse cakes but decided to save the rest, knowing she would need to make the few items of food last as long as possible. Since she would be following the river, heading upstream, she could get a cool drink of water whenever she needed one.
How Yellow Bird longed for just a few hours’ sleep, but she was not yet far enough from the Blackfoot camp to stop. She had to keep going and hoped she was traveling in the right direction. If she had only paid closer attention to her surroundings when she’d traveled from her home to the Blackfoot camp with her captors. She prayed that her guardian spirit would guide her safely back to her people.
A chilling thought popped into her head. Even if she were successful in finding her way back to the camp from which she had been taken, the chance that her people would still be there was slim. Winter was coming, and they needed to go to their homeland along the Clearwater River.
As Yellow Bird trudged wearily on, a feeling of hopelessness flooded her soul. She was alone with no shelter, very little food, and no weapons. Now she wished she’d taken the chance and stolen Smoking Buffalo’s knife. She might very well die out here in the forest. Yet she could not go back. She never wanted to see Smoking Buffalo or his cruel wives again. Any fate that might lie ahead could not compare to what she’d endured at the hands of her wicked captors. She had to go on, and somehow she must find the courage to survive.
The sun was high overhead when Yellow Bird stopped to rest again. Her tunic and moccasins had dried, and she had finally managed to warm up. She was about to collapse on the grass for a much-needed rest when she heard the sound of approaching horses. She turned and saw a group of Indians riding toward her at a fast pace. As they drew nearer, she realized with agonizing fear that one of them was Smoking Buffalo.
Her heart thundered wildly, and she fled as fast as her legs would carry her. She could hear the yips and wild cries of the approaching Indians as they bore down on her, but she kept running.
In a short time they had gained on her, and one of the horses plowed straight into Yellow Bird’s back. She dropped to the ground, the deer hide falling from her shoulders, and the satchel of provisions landing in the dirt.
She pulled herself to her feet, only to be knocked down again. The blow came from Smoking Buffalo. “You are my slave!” he cried. “You will pay for trying to escape!”
Yellow Bird knew the Blackfoot language well enough to understand how angry he was. She would surely be punished, if not killed, for her foolish attempt to escape.
She flinched when he grabbed one of her braids and yanked her roughly to her feet. “You come with me!” Smoking Buffalo jerked Yellow Bird toward his horse, and in one quick movement, threw her across the stallion’s back, then mounted behind her.
The other five Blackfoot braves howled with laughter. No doubt they knew what her fate would be.
Yellow Bird’s father had told her once that someday she would have strong power. Where is this promised power now? she wondered bleakly. Where is the strength of my guardian spirit? She felt like a helpless fool as Smoking Buffalo held her firmly in place with one hand and guided his horse with the other. There was nothing left to do but wait and see what her punishment would be.
Her body ached after hanging over the horse’s back for so long, but Yellow Bird was more amazed at how quickly they’d returned to the Blackfoot camp. It had taken her all night and half a day to cover the ground they covered on horseback in just a few short hours.
As they rode into the village, many Blackfoot Indians looked up from their chores and smiled. Some laughed and cheered, pointing at the returning party bringing their runaway captive home. Even the children ran up to them, sneering at Yellow Bird.
When they reached Smoking Buffalo’s lodge, the horses stopped. The master gave his slave a hefty push, and she fell helplessly to the ground. While the rest of the village went back to their business and the children continued to play, Smoking Buffalo dismounted, grabbed one of Yellow Bird’s braids, and hauled her roughly into the tepee.
Yellow Bird expected to see Smoking Buffalo’s wives there, but the lodge was empty. She swallowed hard, wondering what her fate would be.
Smoking Buffalo gave her little time to wonder. He jerked her toward the center of the lodge, directly in front of the fire pit. Yellow Bird cringed as he bent down, pulling her with him.
The heat from the burning coals reached out to her, and she was certain that her flesh was about to be burned.
Instead of thrusting her hand into the fire, Smoking Buffalo grabbed a slender piece of firewood and began to beat Yellow Bird with it.
She jerked back and forth, trying to dodge the blows, but it was no use. He held her firmly by the hair and continued to strike her legs, arms, and back. “You are mine, and you shall learn to obey! If you ever leave here, it will be because I say so! Do you understand?”
Before Yellow Bird could reply, he aimed one final blow to the middle of her back and threw her roughly onto a mat. “No food for four days! Hard labor as punishment!” he shouted.
Through tearfilled eyes, Yellow Bird watched as he stalked out of the tepee. Her bruised and battered body ached unmercifully, and she trembled violently. “I should not have tried to escape!” she sobbed. “I have no power and no courage. My guardian spirit has surely left me. Hanyawat no longer cares.”
She dropped her head to her knees and let the tears flow unchecked. It was useless to think she could ever be free or happy again. Yellow Bird’s fate had been sealed.
When Mary’s story came to an end, she opened her eyes and blinked. “That day I vow never give in to my fears again.” She clenched her fists until the veins on her hands protruded. “Seth Burrows, he evil man just like Smoking Buffalo.” She looked at Buck, who sat at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of stew as he listened. “We glad you show up to help us, Buck.”
Amanda nodded. “I shudder to think of what might have happened if thou—I mean you—hadn’t come back when you did.”
“I shoulda been here,” Buck said with regret. “Shoulda stayed on the porch till you got the cleaning done.”
“Where did you go?” Amanda as
ked, placing a cup of coffee on the table in front of Buck.
“When I went outside and saw what a nice day it was, I decided to take a walk.” Buck pinched the bridge of his nose and frowned. “Guess I ended up goin’ a little farther than I’d planned. I should have at least left Thunder with ya. Don’t know what I was thinkin’, and I’m sorry for letting you down.”
“Thine apology is accepted,” Amanda said, taking a seat in the chair across from him. “I … I mean, your apology is accepted,” she corrected herself. “I am still trying to get used to the idea of saying you and your instead of thee and thou.”
Buck shrugged. “Guess it’s hard for people to change when they’ve been doin’ or sayin’ things a certain way for a long time.”
She smiled. “That’s true. As my father used to say, ‘Once a Quaker, always a Quaker.’ I think that includes the way we speak.”
The whinny of a horse drew everyone’s attention to the outside. “It be Jim,” Mary said. “Me know the sound of his horse.”
“Better let me take a look just in case it’s not.” Buck slid his chair away from the table. “Jim’s been gone a long time. Someone coulda stolen his horse.”
Amanda’s eyes widened. “I hope it’s not Seth Burrows. Maybe somehow he …”
Buck opened the door slowly and looked out. “It’s Jim all right.” He looked back at the women. “There’s a deer draped over the back of his horse.”
When Jim entered the cabin and saw everyone’s serious expressions, he immediately grew concerned. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked. “Is everything okay?”
Mary and Amanda took turns telling him about Seth Burrows.
“He ask for mule,” Mary explained, “but then he want more.”
As Amanda related what had happened to her, Jim’s anger mounted. “Where were you durin’ all of this?” he asked, turning to Buck.
Buck’s face reddened. “I … I needed some fresh air, so I took a walk.”
Jim slammed his fist on the table. “You see why I asked you to stay? I was countin’ on you to be here to take care of the women.”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Buck apologized. “Guess I just wasn’t thinkin’.”
“No, I guess not.” Jim sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve had a rough day, and then to come home and hear this … Well, if I still had some whiskey in the house, think I’d need to have some just to calm down.”
“What happened?” Buck asked.
“I had a little run-in with an Injun today.”
“What tribe?” Mary questioned, her eyes widening.
“I think it was one of them Blackfeet. He was probably after my horse, or maybe the deer I had, and I’m thinkin’ he’d have probably killed me for it. Some Injuns would do just about anything for a good horse like mine.”
“You hurt?” Mary asked with obvious concern.
He shook his head. “Naw, but I scared the daylights outta that man.” He went on to tell about his encounter with the Indian and then said, “I didn’t come straight home after that because I was worried the Injun might decide to follow me here.” He grunted. “I sure didn’t wanna lead him back to the cabin, so I took a longer way home.”
“Till I’m recovered enough to return to my own place, I promise I’ll stick close to the cabin,” Buck said.
“Glad to hear it.” Jim motioned to Thunder, lying under the table. “The dog has to stay here from now on, too, ’cause I can’t take the chance of anything like that happening again. Some Indians and even white men can be unpredictable, and it don’t pay to let your defenses down.”
Little Joe started crying just then, interrupting their conversation.
“I feed baby now,” Mary said. “When I come back, I fix you supper, Jim.”
He reached out and clasped her hand. “I’m mighty glad no real harm came to you.” He looked over at Amanda. “I’m glad you’re okay, too.”
Amanda smiled. “We all faced some dangers today, but God had His protective hand on us.”
Jim didn’t admit it, but he wondered if she might not be right. He’d uttered a prayer out there in the woods, and everything had turned okay, so maybe God had been listening and protected him, as well as those at the cabin.
CHAPTER 24
For the next week Jim stuck close to home, watching over his family and making sure Buck didn’t try to do too much. Buck was young and full of energy, and it was hard for him to sit around and do nothing but rest. Mary kept busy with the baby and helping Amanda with some of the meals, but Buck complained of being bored and needing something to do. So Jim suggested that Buck go fishing, which wouldn’t overexert him. Jim had been tempted to go along, but after the scare they’d had, he wasn’t ready to leave the women alone, even though Thunder would be with them. The women were back in a routine and seemed to have relaxed a bit since the episode. Jim knew his wife was a strong woman, but it truly surprised him to hear how courageous Amanda had been.
“Mary and I are going to study some passages from the Bible this morning,” Amanda said when Jim entered the cabin after seeing Buck off. “Wouldst thou—I mean, would you care to join us?”
Jim was on the verge of saying no but changed his mind. If God had truly been watching out for him that day when he encountered the Blackfoot Indian, then he ought to at least listen to what the Bible had to say.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll sit with ya for a while,” he said, giving Amanda a nod.
She smiled. “As soon as Mary finishes feeding and changing the baby, we’ll get started.”
Sure hope I didn’t make a mistake agreeing to this, Jim thought. But I said I would, so guess I’d better follow through.
As Buck sat on the grassy banks along the edge of the stream near Jim’s cabin, he thought about Amanda and how pretty she was. She was also very complicated. She seemed meek and mild, but she didn’t hold back—at least when it came to talking about religious things. He had to admit that she was gutsy. She’d proven that last week. Buck wished she wasn’t one of those Bible thumpers, trying to cram religion down people’s throats. Well, he guessed she wasn’t exactly doing that, but she did take her Bible out regularly and read it to Mary. Whenever that happened, Buck made some excuse to go outside because he couldn’t stand listening to what he felt was some story somebody had made up to make people think God loved them and would provide for their needs. Well, He didn’t provide for my mother’s needs when she needed help, Buck thought bitterly. And where was God when Silas was whippin’ the daylights outta me with his strap?
Buck’s fingers tightened around the branch he was using as a fishing pole. He pulled the bait up and left it dangling as his thoughts continued. He didn’t need the white man’s God or the Indian’s Hanyawat. He could get by just fine, without any help from the spirit world. A man had to be tough enough to make it on his own in this world; that was just the way it was.
A bobcat kitten stood on the opposite bank, its stubby tail twitching ever so little. The small kitten didn’t seem to notice Buck, but had its keen eyes on the bait dangling at the end of the fishing line. Back and forth the cat’s head went, as the fish line blew gently in the breeze.
Buck smiled, watching as the kitten inched its way closer to the water. Buck couldn’t help twitching his fishing pole, making the bait jerk at the end of the line. He held his breath, suspecting what the kitten was about to do next.
The little bobcat had reached the stream’s edge. Slowly it crouched into position. Before Buck could blink again, the kitten leaped toward the teasing bait. Buck stifled a chuckle as the kitten plunged into the stream.
“Brr …” Buck shivered, realizing how cold that water must feel. And what a look of surprise on the kitten’s face when it landed smack-dab in the middle of the stream. Its hazel-green eyes were as big as saucers. Buck couldn’t help himself—he laughed out loud.
The bobcat leaped to the stream’s bank, almost as fast as it had jumped in. Then it looked back at Buck, as though noticing him for the first time.
The critter’s grayish-brown fur was soaking wet, and droplets of water fell from its black-cuffed ears. The cat sat on the bank shaking each striped leg as if it had something stuck on the bottom of its paws.
Buck had been living in these mountains a long time and had seen plenty of bobcats over the years. He figured this kitten was over a month old, since that was when they usually started exploring.
Overhead, Buck heard a kee-eeee-arr sound, and when he looked up, his winged brother landed in a tall tree and sat, watching the baby kitten. Buck wasn’t sure what to do, but he knew he wasn’t about to remain there and watch the helpless kitten become a meal. Fortunately, Buck didn’t have to worry for long. He heard what sounded like a screaming baby. Buck had heard that sound many times before. Anyone else hearing the sound might think it was an infant crying in pain, but the recognizable sound was that of an adult bobcat. Almost as fast as it had arrived, the kitten perked up and vanished, running toward its mother.
Even though Buck wanted to get back to work, especially helping Jim around the cabin, he was glad he’d taken his friend’s advice and come down here to the stream. Otherwise, he’d have missed seeing the baby bobcat, and now it would be a memory he’d never forget.
Buck’s thoughts went to Amanda again. She must have toughened up quite a bit since her departure from New York. If he agreed to take her to the Spalding Mission he’d probably think about her all the time. That, in itself, would be a good enough reason to say no to her request. Well, it would be several more weeks before the rivers became passable, so he didn’t have to worry about taking Amanda anywhere right now. For the time being, all he needed to worry about was getting back to the business of trapping, and with or without Jim’s permission, he was going back to his own cabin early next week.
Amanda took a seat at the table and opened her Bible to the Gospel of John. She was glad Jim had agreed to join her and Mary and hoped God’s Word would speak to his heart.
Woman of Courage Page 14