Sarah's Heart

by Ginger Simpson

  He’d barely chuckled when he held up his hand and halted Scout. Standing perfectly still, Wolf’s shoulders ridged with tenseness, his eyes narrowed. “Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” Sarah tilted her head and strained to listen.

  “Hoof beats. Rider’s comin’. We have to find a place to hide.”

  Sarah scanned the trail ahead but saw nothing. The wariness in his tone frightened her. All she heard was her own heartbeat.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Look!” Wolf pointed to a cluster of huge boulders rising trailside.

  The rocks provided a place to hide, but Sarah still heard nothing and silently questioned Wolf’s suspicions. Not even a hint of dust rose on the horizon.

  Wolf grabbed the horse’s lead rope and headed the animal off the trail toward the stony fortress. Sarah twined her hands in the mare’s mane as tall prickly grass brushed her ankles and scratched her skin.

  Wolf halted Scout behind the rocks and helped Sarah to the ground. With a hand over the mare’s muzzle, he crouched next to her forelegs and motioned for Sarah to hunker down with him. He held a silencing finger to his lips, and she obeyed.

  Sarah listened intently, but heard nothing but an occasional bird call. Within moments, the ground beneath her rumbled, and she heard voices growing closer. Following Wolf’s lead, she stayed low and peered through a small opening in the rocks, her heart hammering. A large group of Indians galloped past, their lances held high, their faces smeared with paint. Reminded of the brightly decorated one in her nightmares, she shivered and pulled back, leaning against the stone backrest and hugging her knees to her chest. Her stomach churned and her palms dampened. Never again would she doubt Wolf when he said he heard something. He had the keen senses of the animal for which he was named.

  The earth stilled and the voices faded. Sarah remained too afraid to move. Wolf stood and patted Scout’s neck. “Good girl.”

  He looked to Sarah. “I feared Scout might nicker or neigh at the other horses and give us away, but she did just like I trained her.”

  Sarah’s knees felt weak and she used the boulder to inch up into a standing position. She tried to appear composed. “I guess I have a lot to learn about horses. I can’t tell one sound from another.”

  Wolf laughed. “A neigh or whinny is the loudest noise a horse makes. It’s more of a squeal. A nicker comes from vibrations in the throat when the horse’s mouth is closed. They also blow, snort and scream.”

  “Scream? You made that up.”

  “No I didn’t. It’s true, but you usually only hear that noise when horses are fighting. It’s not pleasant.”

  “Neither is having a war party pass so close, especially when those braves might have been the same one who killed my friends.”

  His casual banter about horses annoyed her. Any other time she might have found the exchange interesting, but not with danger so near. How in the world could he be so relaxed? She took a deep breath. “What do you suppose they’re doing out here?”

  He shrugged. “The only tribes I know that are native to this area are the Kansas and the Osage.”

  “What about that Pot…Potawee tribe you mentioned before?”

  “Potawatami. That tribe was resettled here by treaty. Those were Pawnee who just passed. I suppose they might have ended up here the same way, but they aren’t known for taking kindly to change. They might be looking for revenge.”

  “How do you know so much about them?”

  “The Pawnee have always been enemies of the Sioux. The last I heard, they were living up along the Platte River. But like I told you, the government has a way of changing things.”

  Right now, Sarah wanted to change locations—to get as far away from the war party as possible. She leaned out from the rocks and scanned the trail, her heart still pounding in her ears. She turned to Wolf and let out another long breath. “I don’t see anything. Do you?”

  “No, but we’d best mount up and put some distance between us and this place. I doubt the Pawnee will be back, but you never know.” He cinched her waist with both hands and hefted her onto the mare’s back.

  Distance was a good thing, she thought. “How far is it to St. Mary’s?”

  “Since we’re sharing a horse, it’ll take at least another day. Maybe we can find someone there who’ll sell us another. It would get us to Independence sooner. I have a little cash… didn’t you say you had some?”

  “Maybe ten dollars at the most. It’s tucked inside a sock in my valise.”

  He pulled himself astride behind her, laughing. “Afraid I was gonna steal it?”

  * * *

  Something dotted the horizon. As she and Wolf drew closer, Sarah recognized a settlement consisting of two log buildings nearly identical in form, a few lean-to’s and a smattering of Indian lodges. Not far to the right stood a whitewashed barn, and on a small hill behind the buildings, someone had erected a cross. Workers with skin the color of Wolf’s toiled the nearby fields. Some passed by on horseback, casting curious stares at her and companion.

  “Are we here?” Sarah asked. Her backside ached from riding for so long.

  “Yes, welcome to St. Mary’s.” Wolf reined Scout to a halt in front of the two large buildings and slid to the ground. Stretching, he scanned the area. “This place has really grown since I was here last. The church didn’t even have a roof or windows then.”

  Sarah dismounted, enjoying the feel of solid ground.She eyed a sign identifying St. Mary’s as a Jesuit mission and tribal headquarters, then turned her attention to another marker. “Church of the Immaculate Conception,” she read. “Hmm, what do you suppose is in the other building?”

  “A school, I imagine. It wasn’t here the last time.” He tied Scout to a nearby hitching post. “I’ve always found that white folks with religion have an overwhelming need to educate people with red skin.”

  Her head snapped around. “That sounded a little harsh. I think teaching is a noble act.”

  He crossed his arms. “It might be, but when you’re living among Indians and the missionaries come and tell you that everything you’ve been taught all your life is a lie, it’s pretty upsetting to a child.”

  “I suppose they felt they were doing the Lord’s work.” Sarah’s defenses came alive.

  “Is it your Lord’s work to tell a young boy that he’ll burn in Hell if he doesn’t change his heathen ways?” He untied Sarah’s valise and the bedrolls and walked back to where she stood.

  She swallowed hard. “Surely not, because I don’t believe God would punish an innocent child for not knowing the Bible. And do we ever really know it?I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered about all the different religions based on that one book: Methodists, Lutherans, and Episcopalians. How can each be so certain their belief is the right one?”

  Dropping their belongings on the ground, Wolf shrugged, then pointed to the sky. “I worship the Great Spirit, who is the earth, the sun, the moon and the stars. He is the sky, the wind, the crawling ant upon the ground. He flies as a bird and growls as a bear. All are his creations, and it is from him that we receive visions to guide us. That’s what I believe.”

  “I am a Baptist… was a Baptist. I haven’t been to church since my folks died. I still believe in God, but I guess I’ve been angry at him for all the bad things that have happened in my life.”

  “Is not your God much the same as mine?”

  Sarah nodded. “I hadn’t given it much thought, but yes, it seems he is. Thanks for reminding me that my life is still filled with good things.” She bent to pick up her bag and handed him the rolled up blankets.

  “Hello there,” a voice drew their attention to the doorway of the mission. “I’m Father Brouchard. May I be of assistance to you?”

  “Father,” Sarah called out, walking toward him with an extended hand. “I’m Sarah Collins and this is my friend, Gray Wolf. We’re passing through on our way to Independence and hoped to spend the night here, perhaps find someone who
has a horse for sale.”

  Wolf gave a friendly nod, but remained silent.

  “Welcome, my child.” Father Brouchard made a slight bow. “You and your friend may stay as long as you’d like. There are empty beds in the school where you can sleep, and tonight you can break bread with me and the other priests, brethren and sisters.” Despite his friendly demeanor, the padre viewed her with a raised brow.

  Sarah imagined she must be quite a sight—disheveled hair, unkempt clothes, her face most likely smudged with trail dust—and traveling alone with a man not her husband. She knew only enough about the Catholic religion to imagine Father Brouchard reciting a “Hail Mary” on her behalf. She’d learned that much from her mother’s explanation of an old woman back in Hannibal who sat on her front porch fingering a long string of beads and invoking saintly intervention for anyone who trespassed on her land.

  Fidgeting beneath the Father’s gaze, Sarah pushing a wayward strand of hair back up under her hat and displayed a smile. “Gray Wolf saved my life. Indians attacked the wagon train I was with, and I’m the lone survivor. It’s a long story, but I escaped death only to be bitten by a rattlesnake. Had it not been for Wolf, I would have surely died the second time. He’s been kind enough to invite me to accompany…uh, escort me to Independence.”

  “You must be new here, Father.” Wolf finally spoke, stopping Sarah from rambling and allowing her a breath. “I was through here about a year ago, and don’t recall seeing you.”

  “I arrived in the fall, just after the roof went on the church. My mission here is overseeing the school, and I’m proud to say that the sisters teach over fifty Indian children daily. We offer room and board to some, but most come from the nearby village. It’s our hope that eventually settlers in the area will allow their young ones to come to class, as well.”

  “Sounds like you’re doing a fine job, and we’re beholdin’ to you for putting us up for the night. I know Miss Sarah is mighty tired of sleeping on the ground.”

  Sarah smiled and nodded. “And, as I mentioned, Father, we’re hoping to find another horse.” She nodded toward Scout. “Wolf’s poor mare has been toting the both of us, when we aren’t taking turns walking.”

  Father Brouchard cupped his chin in his hand. “Hmm, I’m not sure, but I believe I overheard banter at the trading post that someone was looking to make a little money by selling a gelding. You might check there. But it’s growing late, and perhaps you’d like to wash up a bit before we sit down to eat.”

  * * *

  After a good night’s rest, Sarah tended to her toilette. Sleeping without Wolf only a few feet away had been strange, but Sarah bedded in the girl’s room and he in the boy’s. She’d missed the gentle sound of his snoring.

  Stifling a yawn, she joined Wolf, Father Brouchard and the others for a welcome breakfast of bacon and eggs. Days started early at the mission, with prayers being chanted by the priests, while Indian children arrived from their village, greeting those who resided at the school. Everyone appeared to have a purpose, and chores were completed well before the morning meal was served.

  After Sarah and Wolf ate and gathered their belongings, Father Brouchard escorted them outside. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay another night?” he asked. “You’re more than welcome.”

  Wolf reached to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you for your hospitality, Father, but we’re gonna mosey down to the trading post and see about that horse. I’m in need of a job, and the sooner we get to Independence, the quicker I can earn money to pay off the balance on that land I told you about during breakfast.”

  “I understand, my son. God go with you.” The priest turned his gaze to Sarah, “And you too, my child.”

  She smiled, her brow already beading with perspiration in the warm morning sun. An Indian lad, a miniature version of Wolf, led Scout from the barn. The long braids of the moccasin-clad boy dangled just past his shoulders. He held his head high, his chin jutting with the same pride Sarah had witnessed so many times in her traveling companion. The only difference between the two, besides age, was the hue of their skin and the youngster’s deep ebony eyes that proved his full heritage—nothing like the hypnotic hazel ones that Sarah found so distracting of late. Wolf had joked about stealing her money. If only he knew her real fear was losing her heart.

  At the sound of approaching horses everyone turned toward a swirling cloud of dust climbing skyward. Sarah’s heart quickened until she glimpsed the familiar blue coat with gold buttons on the first two riders appearing from the haze. A cavalry troop, maybe fifty strong, in two perfect lines, reined in their animals in front of the mission.

  While the rest of the regiment remained astride, the ranking officer dismounted, removed his hat and approached.

  “Good morning, Father Brouchard. First Lieutenant Blandon Moore at your service. You might recall we passed through last month.”

  Despite a seemingly pleasant disposition, the officer’s eyes fixed a stony glare on Wolf. “May I ask your name?”

  “Only if you tell me why you want to know.” Wolf stared back, his tone defiant.

  The Lieutenant’s jaw tensed. With narrowed eyes, he glanced over his shoulder. “Sergeant Flynn, you and Private McCoy dismount and take this half-breed into custody!”

  At the rigid tone in their commander’s voice, the two men scrambled down, each grabbing one of Wolf’s arms. Sarah gasped.

  “Let me go, dammit!” Wolf fought against restraint until they twisted his limbs so far behind his back that his face contorted with pain.

  Sarah cast a pleading look at the priest, but instead of intervening, the man stood quietly with his fingers interlaced and a look of apprehension on his face. Despite detesting confrontation, she squared her shoulders and stepped forward. “Excuse me, Lieutenant, but what’s the meaning of this?” The quiver in her voice belied her courage.

  He removed his hat and raked a surveying gaze over her. “And who’s asking?”

  “Sarah Collins. I’m traveling with Mr….Gray Wolf. I’m sure you’ve made a mistake. There is absolutely no reason for the horrible way your men are treating him.”

  “Would that be Miss Collins?” His gaze rested on her bosom then moved to her face. She squirmed beneath the undeniable hunger in his eyes.

  “Yes.” Her voice was terse. “Wolf has been kind enough to save my life and see me to my destination. I would appreciate you allowing us to continue our journey in peace.”

  Lieutenant Moore frowned. “Traveling alone with a breed? Humph! I’m sure you would like to continue…whatever it is you were doing,” his mouth formed a sneer, “but I believe your friend is a thief. There’s a wanted poster floating around with his picture on it.”

  “Again, you are very much mistaken.” She stood toe-to-toe with the Lieutenant in the wake of the his insulting tone. His intimated impropriety heated her cheeks.

  “Well see about that.” He plopped his hat back atop his head and turned to his men. Secure the prisoner on his horse. We’ll take him back to Fort Leavenworth and see if the quartermaster can identify him as the scoundrel who helped himself to the stolen supplies.

  “But…no…wait…” Sarah’s shoulders sagged.

  “Good day, Miss Collins.” The officer made a slight bow, spun on his heel and remounted.

  Sarah watched helplessly as the men tied Wolf’s hands and threw him astride Scout. She dropped her valise and ran to his side. Peering up at him, she clutched his leg while her stomach twisted into a knot. “What can I do to help? They can’t just take you away and leave me out here alone.”

  His brow furrowed. “I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do. Wait for me. I’ll get back…at least try to, as soon as I can.”

  Sarah’s tears mingled with dust stirred up by the departing horses, and she swiped the grit from her cheeks as the last riders disappeared over the hill. What in the world had gotten into her. Instead of showing concern for him, she’d only displayed worry over her situation. After everything h
e’d done for her, she had to help him. But how? She didn’t even know where they were taking him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Muted sunlight filtered through wooden shutters, giving Sarah just enough light to count the marks on her makeshift calendar. In the room where she slept, two rows of cots lined opposite walls adorned with various religious icons. A large cross hung near her bed, and pictures of Christ and the Virgin Mary added color to the drabness of the room. For the moment, she enjoyed the peace and quiet of the emptiness and pondered her future.

  The daily prayer calls she attended did little to bolster Sarah’s belief that Wolf might return. Twenty-six days had passed since the cavalry took him away, and her hope quickly faded. At Father Brouchard’s suggestion, she assisted the nuns with the children. The task helped pass the days, but the nights seemed endless. Each time she closed her eyes, her mind filled with thoughts of Wolf, and while trying to minimize the depth of her loneliness, she realized he’d become much more than just a traveling companion. Sleep was sporadic and restless, at best, when she finally succumbed to exhaustion.

  Sarah’s moment of privacy was interrupted by the three young charges who shadowed her every movement. She put aside her tracking materials and smiled at the dark-skinned trio standing at the foot of her bed. “Oh, don’t tell me it’s that time again.” She cocked her head and smiled.

  The moment Sarah stood, one of the little girls sidled up and hugged her leg. Sarah took the little one’s hand and led the way outside while the other two youngsters followed. As had become custom, every day they picked wildflowers and then tramped up the hill to the cross, leaving their pungent offering in memory of the unknown people resting in the graves peppering the area.

  Sarah knelt next to a small grassy mound and deposited a colorful bouquet. She couldn’t shake the notion that something horrible had happened to Wolf. Fort Leavenworth, she’d learned from Father Brouchard, was about ninety miles away and where they’d taken Wolf. If he’d proven his innocence, he should’ve been back by now. Maybe he had cleared himself and decided to go on to Independence without her.