Dancing Fawn

by Ginger Simpson

  She raised her head slightly and glanced at her friend’s back. “Green Eyes, are you asleep?”

  “No, not yet.”

  “Do you ever worry about Lone Eagle?”

  Green Eyes rolled over and faced her. The last reflections of the fire danced in her emerald irises. “Of course I worry. No matter how positive I tell you to be, that does not mean I always follow my own advice. I do not think I will ever be as stoic as my husband.”

  “I’m frightened,” Fawn confessed.

  “I know you are. I am, too. I do not know what I would do without Lone Eagle. I try not to think about it, but this is the first time I have been this close to war. It scares me.”

  “I’m glad I’m not alone.” Fawn snuggled down under her blanket and stifled a yawn. “Then…” she sighed “I guess we’ll just have to support one another. You help me not to worry, and I’ll help you. Good night...and thank you for being such a good friend.”

  “Good night, Fawn. Sleep well.”

  * * *

  Fawn woke to complete darkness and total disorientation. Hadn’t she just fallen asleep? Gazing at the waning fire, she figured she’d slept longer than she thought. What woke her? Her vision slowly adjusted to the cloak of blackness, and soon the veiled moonlight filtering through the smoke opening illuminated the interior enough for her to remember she was in Green Eyes’ lodge.

  Fawn propped herself up on her elbows and strained to hear anything unusual but heard only the soft snoring of her friend. Something didn’t seem right. Maybe she was just being overly anxious. She chastised herself for being such a worrier. Most likely, the baby’s movement had woken her. She stretched out again, curled on her side and pulled her blanket close.

  Somewhere in the night, a coyote howled, and within a few moments another answered. Fawn shivered. If Little Elk lay next to her, she’d feel safe like she always did when he was near, but…. Ignoring the bristling hair on the nape of her neck proved difficult, but still she tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position. What niggled at her?

  Her eyelids grew heavy, but just as she started to doze, tremors shook the ground beneath her. The vibration grew stronger.

  She bolted upright. “Green Eyes, wake up. Listen. What is that? Could it be horses—our people returning?”

  Green Eyes rolled over, sat up, listened, and then leapt to her feet. “It is far too early for our men to return. Quick! Get up! It may be trouble!”

  Fawn’s heart thudded. “What kind of trouble?”

  “I don’t know. Surely our sentry would have signaled the camp, but we must be sure.”

  Green Eyes wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, pushed aside the lodge flap, and peered out into the darkness. Fawn plastered herself against her friend’s back and stood on tiptoes to see out. The vibrations grew stronger and turned to thunder as an army of mounted men rode into the village. With fear etched across her face, Green Eyes jerked around, tossing Fawn to the side. “We must hide. It is the blue coats.”

  “Oh my God! Where will we go?” Fawn’s body trembled.

  Green Eyes glanced around the lodge. “Lone Eagle took all the weapons. I have only my skinning knife.” She bent to retrieve it and tucked it into her moccasin, then moved to the opposite side of the lodge. She lifted the bottom of the tepee. “Come, crawl through here and run for the trees. We can hide there.”

  The once quiet night now reverberated with men yelling and screams of terror.

  * * *

  In the darkness, Fawn huddled with Green Eyes in a stand of aspen saplings and listened to the chaos. Veiled figures, silhouetted by a peek-a-boo moon and swirling dust moved through the camp. Gunfire erupted, and women screamed. Panic-filled voices sounded in all directions as the tribal members scattered for safety.

  “These are our own people. They’re killing our friends, and we can do nothing.” Fawn’s voice cracked with emotion, and she reached up to wipe tears from her eyes.

  Green Eyes hugged her. “Shhh! We must be quiet.”

  Fawn stiffened. Her panic came in a whisper. “They’re getting closer. What do we do?”

  “Sit still, and don’t draw attention to our location.”

  “Hey, Zeke, if you find yerself a good lookin’ squaw, give me a chance at her.” Fawn held her breath as a voice, too close, called out.

  “I just squashed one of their little nits. That’ll be one less Injun givin’ us trouble.”

  Green Eyes gasped. Fear shone in her wide eyes. “Not my son,” she muttered. “His grandmother will see to his safety. I trust her.”

  Fawn covered her mouth to stifle a sob. Her friend showed such courage, especially when there had been no time to check on Little Cloud. Fawn’s mind reeled. People of her color killed a child. How could they be so vicious and cruel? How could Green Eyes remain so positive?

  The voices trailed off. Green Eyes grabbed Fawn’s wrist. “We must try to get back to my lodge,” she whispered. “They’re searching in the grass and trees. Hopefully they have already been through my home, and we will be safer there.”

  She rose, craned her neck, and checked the area. “Quickly but quietly, run! Stay low and hurry back to where we crawled out.”

  Fawn followed behind, crouching low and holding her stomach as she ran. Breathless, she ducked under the lodge covering and let it drop back into place.

  For a moment, there were no screams or yells. Only their heavy breathing sliced through the eerie silence. “What are we going to do?” Breathless, Fawn found her voice.

  Green Eyes scooped up all the bedding and heaped it in a pile. “You hide here and pray they leave soon. I will use the darkness to my advantage and make my way to Singing Sparrow’s lodge. Little Cloud is with his grandmother, and I have to make sure they are all right.”

  “No…you can’t go.” Fawn clung to Green Eyes. “Soldiers are everywhere. They are sure to see you. I know you’re worried, but please stay.”

  “Would you stay if your child needed you?”

  Fawn thought a minute, touched her stomach, and then looked at her friend. “No, I wouldn’t. Please, please be careful, Green Eyes. Godspeed.”

  * * *

  Fawn’s whole body ached from holding herself so tense. She hunkered behind the robes and listened to the commotion outside. Flaming torches lit the skies and cast shadows of the marauders on the lodge walls. Booming voices of the soldiers filled the air. They were everywhere—some near, some far. Occasionally, a scream of fear or a cry for mercy penetrated the night. The sound of footsteps drawing closer caused Fawn’s breath to halt. She tried shrinking herself into the smallest ball possible behind the wall of fur, but raised her head only enough to see over.

  A thin ribbon of light outlined the break between the lodge covering and the door flap. Outside, the glow grew lighter as whoever carried the flame neared. A burly silhouette appeared on the door. Suddenly, the interior blazed with light as an arm stuck a torch inside. Fawn held her breath and ducked down.

  “Over here, Cap’n. I found one of ‘em.” The voice rang out right above her.

  Her heart froze.

  Fawn’s eyes flew open in terror. She gazed up at the burly soldier holding a torch directly overhead. Her hear raced.

  A second man ducked through the door. “Whatta ya got here?”

  Passing the flame closer, the more ragged one leaned in to glare at her. His scraggly beard and tobacco-stained teeth were clearly visible in the light, and his uniform buttons strained against his girth. He reached up and scratched his dirty hair. “Criminy, Captain, this un’s white.”

  The captain stepped closer. His appearance was one of authority. His uniform, although soiled with dust, fit him well, and his pants still maintained a razor-sharp crease. Clean-shaven, with blond hair, he was a good-looking man. “Well, I’ll be damned, Riley. I think you’re right. She may be dressed like an Indian, but her hair color gives her away.

  Riley reached down, grabbed Fawn’s arm, and yanked her to her feet
. “You speak English?”

  The steely grip of his fingers dug into her skin, and she fought to free herself. “Let go of me, you animal.”

  Riley turned and smiled at his commanding officer then looked back to Fawn with a disgusting smile. “Looks like we got us a wild one here.”

  The captain tapped Riley’s shoulder. “Release her. This young lady is probably glad to see us—no doubt waiting to be rescued.”

  Fawn stepped back and rubbed her arm to ease the painful grip. She glared at the man called Riley, then squaring her shoulders, faced both soldiers. “Why have you come here? Our people have done nothing to harm you. Are you in the habit of attacking women, children, and old men?” She thought about the war party that had left that morning and swallowed hard.

  The captain removed his hat. “Our people? May I ask your name, Miss?”

  “My name is...Dancing Fawn. I am wife of Little Elk.”

  “I mean your real name.”

  “My given name is Grace Cummings, if that’s what you mean.”

  “How long ago were you captured?”

  “I...I was captured some time ago, but I’m here of my own free will, and I have no intention of leaving.”

  Suddenly, the man’s attitude changed. “I do believe this woman is delusional, Private Riley. Tie her up. We’ll be taking her back to the fort with us.”

  Fawn fought, but she was no match for the man who restrained her.

  * * *

  Riley yanked Fawn outside. The serenity of the dawning sky and the calm flow of the nearby river belied the fact that life had suddenly turned to chaos and death. Bodies littered the camp—mostly elderly men and women who probably didn’t stand a chance of escape.

  Fawn anxiously scanned the area as Riley dragged her along. Terror gripped her insides as she searched for her friends. Where was Green Eyes? Was she safe with her son?

  Her mind filled with terror for her own child. What would these men do with her? They needed only know she lived with Indians by choice to hate her. Why had she told them?

  She passed a corpse lying in a contorted position. The clothing was that of a woman, but the face was indiscernible from apparent blows to the head. Recalling what Green Eyes wore, Fawn felt a tinge of relief that it wasn’t her friend but shuddered at the useless killing.

  * * *

  “Maybe they made it to safety,” she whispered.

  With bound hands, she pointed at the dead person. “How could you kill a defenseless woman? Does it make you feel more like a man?”

  Riley wiped tobacco spittle from his chin. “Ain’t no woman, jes’ a dirty squaw like you.”

  Springing at him like a mountain lion, Fawn pummeled his chest with her fists. “You...you disgusting pig. That woman was a human being. She lived and breathed just like you. What gives you the right—”

  Riley pushed her so hard she tumbled backward and landed on the ground with a thud. He leered down at her. “You touch me again and you’ll end up lookin’ just like her.”

  Stunned and concerned for the safety of her child, Fawn sat for a moment. She tried to calm herself and let rational thoughts return. The last thing she needed to do was make Riley angrier.

  She struggled to stand, and as best she could, brushed the dirt from her clothing. Angry red abrasions circled her wrists beneath the tight rawhide binding. She took a deep breath and wondered what would happen next.

  A younger soldier led three horses to where they stood. His scraggly brown hair hung well beneath the worn army cap on his head, and he eyed Fawn lustfully while he spoke. “Looks like this un been layin’ up with one of them savages.” He turned his attention to Riley. “Cap’n says to mount up. We gotta get out of here before their men come back.”

  Riley shoved her toward the animals. “You heard the man. Mount up!”

  Fawn struggled to pull herself astride, hiking her dress well past her knees. She wished for her leggings, but tugged at the doeskin material, trying to cover as much skin as possible while hoping her advancing stage of pregnancy would deter the craving she saw in that young soldier’s eyes.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked with a trembling voice.

  Riley’s ugly head jerked around. “To Fort Sully.”

  Fawn took a deep breath. “What do you plan to do with me once we get there?”

  “That ain’t for me to say.” He leered at her. “Is that an Injun brat in yer belly?”

  “How dare you! What business is it of yours?”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. And I suppose from your tone that you laid down with him willingly.”

  He could teach you a lot about being a man.

  She bit her tongue to keep her thoughts from tumbling out of her mouth. It would do no good to argue with the likes of him.

  * * *

  The late April sun grew hot as they traversed the still lush prairie. Now that the troops rode in rank and file, Fawn counted thirty-five men. A small group in comparison to the war party that Lone Eagle and his braves had joined.

  She wished for a drink of water but dared not ask. Weary from the long ride, she held fast to the saddle horn as her body bounced to the rhythm of the horse’s gait. She tugged constantly at her hem. What of her friends back in the camp—Green Eyes and her son, Singing Sparrow, and the dear old medicine woman? Did they live?

  A new worry crept into her mind. What if Little Elk came to her rescue? Outnumbered, his attack would mean certain death…if he still lived. She stared at the sky and prayed for her husband’s safety.

  Her worry turned from Little Elk to the approaching nighttime. As evidenced by the soldiers raid on the Lakota camp, bad things happened under the veil of darkness. Panic welled in her chest, but she fought against it, forcing positive thoughts to the forefront of her mind. She wouldn’t rest until she found a way out of this mess. She had to survive for the sake of her child. And her husband and friends? She had to cling to the belief that they were all alive.

  The long shadows cast by the setting sun stretched out alongside the formation. She licked her lips and remained vigilant.

  * * *

  Riding at the head of the regiment, the captain finally raised his hand to halt the troops. Fawn’s muscles ached from riding most of the day. They had only stopped to rest one time, and she barely got a drink from Riley’s canteen before he yanked it away. The rim and the contents both smelled of tobacco, and all she could picture was the dirty spittle in the corners of his mouth. If she hadn’t been so thirsty, she would have forgone touching her lips to something that had touched his. But thirst could drive a person to do things they normally wouldn’t.

  She hurried and dismounted before the young soldier came and manhandled her again. The last time they stopped, he’d taken great delight in touching her in places he ought not while helping her down. His leering grin had added to her helplessness. Arching her back, she moved her neck from side-to-side to work out the kinks.

  The troops, all seeing to their animals and preparing for camp, left Fawn standing alone and confused. Her admirer came for the horses and cast his usual disconcerting glance in her direction. Unable to stand the way he leered at her, she shivered. She found little solace in the gentleman captain. His polite attitude towards her changed to cold rudeness at her admission of being a savage’s wife. Would he intervene if someone threatened her?

  A blanket thrown in her face disrupted Fawn’s thoughts.

  “Here’s your bed. Pick a spot,” Riley barked. “I’ll untie your hands until after dinner, but then I’m gonna tie you back up. Don’t want you gettin’ any ideas while I’m sleepin’.” He cackled like an old lady.

  * * *

  Fawn fidgeted in her bedroll, turning and turning in an effort to find a comfortable spot where he sharp pebbles didn’t poke her in the behind or blades of grass tickle her ears. She pulled the rough army blanket up under her chin and gazed at the rising full moon, wishing for the soft buffalo robes to which she had become accustomed. The coarse cov
ering she was given was prickly and chafed her skin.

  Thoughts of Little Elk crossed her mind. Where was he? Was he looking at the moon and wondering about her? Did he even know she lived? Did he want her as much as she wanted him? A sob racked her.

  She looked beyond the stars and the bright yellow orb in the sky, seeking comfort from above. “I’m scared, Lord. I don’t know if I can escape...and what if Little Elk didn’t come back to camp at all? I need your help. Please. Amen.”

  Her bound wrists made finding sleep harder. She rolled to her side and willed slumber to come, but it didn’t. Her mind was tired of thinking, but she couldn’t clear her head. Images of the journey so far flooded her mind. The position of the sun earlier indicated they traveled northwest. The river ran just beyond a small rise, so if she escaped and followed it back, she would certainly find the camp. Perhaps, the fort wasn’t too much farther.

  She rolled to her back. “Stop thinking, and get some rest,” she muttered. “Tomorrow might be another long day.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Blinded by the rising sun, Fawn turned over, blinked, and sat up. Her back ached, and she had to pee. But where? Already men stirred about, leaving no place away from prying eyes.

  She struggled with the bindings around her wrists and wiggled her fingers to encourage blood to flow back into her numb hands. When would they untie her? She posed no physical risk to a man.

  Her bladder felt as though it would burst, and she scanned the camp for a secluded spot. The immediate terrain was flat and devoid of trees. If only she could walk a short distance from camp, but she feared to ask. Besides, what if the lusting young soldier followed her? She’d be out of hearing distance. She huffed in disgust. Shouldn’t she at least be afforded some privacy?