by Stephy Smith
Kale gazed in the eyes of his father. A spark of love lit in his father’s eyes every time he glanced at his wife. Filled with pride, neither one showed shame of their love for each other. Drifting back to the white woman, he doubted he would ever find that kind of love.
Most people in the fort called his mother Sally. To Kale, the name did not fit. Her name was Woman With Small Voice and he cringed when someone called her Sally. She was not a white woman, but Cheyenne, and she was proud of the blood coursing in her veins. So many times she told him names didn’t mean much to her. She knew who she was in her heart.
“What supplies do you need today?” Kale twisted to his mother’s voice.
“More poultice, turpentine and rags for bandages this trip,” he called over his shoulder, and walked around in the post. Pausing before a green dress, he ran his fingers over the soft material. He picked it up and carried it to the counter. His mother folded the dress, wrapped, and tied the package with a piece of ribbon to match. Her eyes held amusement.
Kale gave her an approving nod and waited for her to return from the talk with his father. “Take care of your mother, son,” his father called out. Woman With Small Voice waited for Kale to exit the door and then followed.
With hurried steps, Kale and his mother scrambled up the mountain. He opened the door and let his mother in first. Her gasp whipped Kale into motion. He ran to Emma’s body on the floor. Blood pooled under her chest and he sucked in a gasp.
With ease, he picked up Emma and laid her on the bed. Woman With Small Voice wedged her way in between them. In desperation, Kale watched over his mother’s shoulder. Her small hands intricately worked the flesh of the wounds. Reaching inside the holes, she removed the pellets, then cleansed the wounds and packed the holes with poultice.
Woman With Small Voice stood with a fisted hand on her hip. Her eyes blazed with fury and she pointed to the woman in the bed. “How did you come in possession of Miss Donley?” The words were spit out in Cheyenne.
Kale felt his jaw drop. “You know this woman?”
“Everyone in the fort knows this woman. There is a search party out to find her. She is the school teacher and she failed to show up for school.” Woman With Small Voice straightened. Her voice was even, but her forehead crinkled above raised eyebrows.
With a raised hand, he scratched his chin and then took hold of his mother’s shoulders. “Mother, Morgan nabbed her and carried her up the mountain. Somehow, she got away and he shot her up at the fork in the river.”
“We must take her back, Kale. Your actions could bring devastation upon our people,” Woman With Small Voice whispered. “They have been forced to stay in the village and are unable to hunt for food.”
“I found her half frozen in the blizzard. Morgan pushed her into the river.” Kale paced the cabin. “You can see for yourself she is too sick to travel. The whites can see she has holes from the gunshot. They know I do not carry a gun.”
“What am I to tell the people in the fort?” Woman With Small Voice glared at him. “That my son has white woman living in his cabin?” Her eyes sparkled with pride, yet filled with worry. Kale knew his mother; she would fear for her people. He had seen it many times over the years.
“Tell them the truth. I wouldn’t expect anything less. If they deem necessary, they should come see with their own eyes. Let them come. I have nothing to hide.” Kale knew his mother was right. His heart sank with the thought of the whites coming to take her to the fort when she is not strong enough to make the journey. Furthermore, what did he care what they did with her? She was nothing to him but trouble and extra work.
Something inside told him to quit lying to himself. For some strange reason, he did care, but he could do nothing about his feelings. Her beauty was one thing, and the lightning her skin sent to his bones was another.
“Tomorrow, you go tell your father. Tell him I stay with Miss Donley. Let him talk to whites,” Woman With Small Voice said in English.
Kale’s eyes went to Emma. His father’s people never accepted him as white. Yet, they permitted him to do business with the whites without trouble. They let him stay on the mountain. He was grateful for the freedom and beauty of the dangers in the wild. Although he hated the thought of entering the fort, he would for his mother’s sake.
It was better his father tell the whites. The whites held respect for him. They would listen without condemning Kale. He shook his head at the difference between the two worlds.
With a few steps across the floor to the stove, he tossed a log in and set the pot of stew on to heat. With deep felt respect, he glanced to his mother. She sat in the chair brushing the luscious black locks of Emma and twisted it into a braid. The boiling pot drew his attention. He filled two bowls and handed one to his mother.
The silence in the cabin was thick. Unable to take much more of it, Kale peered up through lowered lids at his mother. With prolonged tiny sips of the hot stew, Woman With Small Voice stared at Emma. Her eyes gleamed with surprise when Emma reached for her arm.
Woman With Small Voice caught Emma’s hand. “Miss Donley, it is I, Sally, from trading post.” She patted her hand.
“How did you find me?” Her eyes remained closed and she stifled a wince.
“My son. He bring me to help you. He say he found you in river.” Woman With Small Voice spread her small hand on Emma’s forehead.
“I thought Kale found me in the river,” Emma said.
“Ah, Kale, my son.”
“The people of the fort can’t blame him for what the other trapper did, can they?”
“They will try. My husband, he set them straight, Miss Donley.” Woman With Small Voice pulled back the robe covering Emma’s chest.
“Please, call me Emma.” She tried to form a smile. Kale met her gaze and felt his heart plunge at the dullness caused by the water pooled in her eyes.
“Kale go tomorrow. He tell father what happen. Many people from fort come here, maybe.”
Emma’s eyes fluttered open and she shook her head. “Too many of them will treat Kale with disapproval. I can’t let this happen. He was kind enough to take care of me, to bring me in from the cold. He could have left me to die in the river, but he didn’t.”
“No choice, Emma. If find you here, they kill my people and Kale.”
“That’s not fair, Sally. How can they kill your people when your people are not responsible?” Her brow furrowed and she bit her lip.
“You rest. Talk later. Drink this.” Sally held a cup of medicinal tea to Emma’s lips. The fast acting medicine forced her eyes into sleep.
Kale sat in a chair at the table. His forehead rested in his hands. He swirled around at his mother’s smooth hands on his shoulders.
“What is bothering you?” she asked in Cheyenne.
“This woman, she has strong medicine to hold my heart. I don’t think the white man’s medicine will heal her. What you are doing for her is working. When they take her back to the fort, she may not heal.” His mind refused to think of her joining the spirits so soon after he found her.
Woman With Small Voice cocked a brow. “Why do you believe this, my son? If she has strong medicine, she will not need the white man’s medicine.”
“Do you think she will go back to her people in the east?”
His mother shrugged and shifted back to Emma.
Chapter Five
Sun reflected off the snow and stung Emma’s eyes. After two months in bed, she felt the need to move more than Sally or Kale thought she should. She stopped and glared at the snow-covered mountain. With a long breath, her silent good-bye to the cabin and the man who saved her brought tears to flow down her cheeks. The need to run back to the security and warmth of the cabin chewed on her nerves.
The cabin had become her new home. Its safety from harm and prying eyes comforted her more so than her home back east. She had grown used to the man leaving each morning to return home at night. A sensation she suspected akin to marriage. Her trust in Kale had
flourished. He wasn’t like Morgan. He kept her safe.
Deep down inside, she knew she would have to return to the fort. The longer she stayed on the mountain, the less she wanted to have anything to do with fort life. Picking up pace, she scurried to catch up with Sally and Kale.
The warmth of the buffalo robe Sally had made her cut the wind and the cold. A few times, her weakened body forced her to rest with the added weight. Once at the fort, she would have to face a barrage of questions she didn’t want to answer. Her thunderous heart beat with anxiety, and uncertainty screamed within her mind with each step.
The closer they got to the fort, the more fear settled in. If she complained, Kale would make her go back anyway. If she expressed her desire to stay with him, she would face a most devastating rejection. To face the fort would save her heart and break it at the same time. The fact knowing this was the only way to save Kale and his tribe did little to comfort her. It was the right move, despite her hating the decision.
The sole comfort of this ludicrous situation was that Kale’s father had told the people what had happened to her. Curiosity of busy-bodies would be brutal. She would have to relive the experience to the commander; she didn’t want to relive it for the nosey as well.
Her heart plummeted. The fort was in sight and a strong sense of not belonging there crushed her. The nice, secure cabin on the mountain was all but lost to her. She fought back the tears as she continued her walk behind Sally and Kale to the fort. With great turmoil, she straightened her shoulders and held her head high, her eyes fixed straight ahead and focused on the gates.
She wanted nothing more than the memory of Morgan to leave her. With constant questions, she wouldn’t be able to put it behind her. Inquisitive students would want to know how she felt about the kidnapping. A small bit of hope to express her feelings without putting more fear than necessary in the minds intimidated her. Actually, she didn’t want to have the discussion at all with young, impressionable minds.
Dread quivered down her spine as they walked into the fort. Kale slowed his pace and Emma fell in beside him. Tears welled in her eyes, people swarmed around, and she reached for him. Clutching at his arm, she tried to break free of the crowd pushing him farther from her reach. Guards from the fort took her arms and guided her away to the commander’s office. She tried to look over her shoulder, but the soldier’s relentless tugs stopped her efforts as they quickened the pace.
This episode reminder her, her soul was lost; she knew it was because Kale no longer stood beside her. Heaviness slammed across her shoulders. She felt his absence from the fort. A twist in her chest sent fear through her veins. She glanced around with the hope to see someone familiar. There was no one she felt comfortable around. Names of the people eluded her and she clasped her hands in front of her.
“Miss Donley.” A strong voice cut through her. “Welcome back. Mr. Tucker told us of your progress.” The commander took hold of her arm and led her to a chair in front of his desk. He took his seat on the other side.
“Thank you.” Emma lowered her gaze to her hands and sat straight on the edge of the chair.
“I have some questions I would like to ask you.” His tone softened.
“I am tired, commander. Can we have this discussion in a few days?”
“This shouldn’t take long, Miss Donley. The sooner…” His eyes penetrated with defiance.
“I was writing a letter to my folks back east. Morgan came from behind me and took me to his cabin on the mountain. He shackled me to the wall. I hit him with a whiskey bottle and took the key from his pocket. I ran out the door to the river. He found me. I hit him with a rock and he shot me. Then he pushed me into the river. When I woke, Kale, I mean, Mr. Tucker, had taken me to his cabin and nursed me back to health with the help of his mother, Sally. They brought me here. This is all I have to say at this time.” She stood and pivoted to leave.
“Are you sure Mr. Kale Tucker didn’t shoot you?”
Fire blazed in her heart and a lump formed in her throat. She twirled around and walked back to the desk. “Why would you make an accusation against the person who saved my life? I told you before; Harvey Morgan shot me. I am not as stupid as you wish me to be. I don’t believe it possible to confuse the two men.” Her fisted hands rested on her hips.
“Had you ever seen…” The commander’s glare struck her cold.
“I have told you who did this to me. I was face to face with the evil man. I know it was not Mr. Tucker.” Emma whirled around and stomped from the room.
Her anger propelled her down the wooden walk to her small house. Solitude from the hatred of these people burned her soul. How could they accuse Kale of something so foolish when it was Morgan? Did these people disregard someone as evil as Morgan to blame an Indian? Fury caused her blood to boil, but when she reached her house, she couldn’t enter and headed to the trading post instead.
The stomp of her heavy footsteps drew the attention of the customers and Sally. The curious eyes of the people raised questions unanswered. Sally directed Emma to the back. With impatience, she paced in front of a pile of pelts.
“What happen?” Sally’s low voice and soothing arm fell around Emma’s shoulder to calm her.
“They are trying to blame Kale. How can they make such a ridiculous accusation? What is wrong with these people? They were not there.” Tears fell down her cheeks. The force of the situation ripped her heart into tiny pieces.
“No worry, Emma. Kale know how to fight own battle. He has knowledge from both worlds. It always rough on him.” Sally’s words were of little comfort.
With a shake of her head, she swiped a tear from her cheek. Filled with confusion and anger, she couldn’t stand by and let accusations of this kind float around unfair minds. There had to be a way to convince the people Morgan was the one wreaking havoc on the mountain. This evil man’s activities had to be stopped to save lives of others in the area. Not just the lives of the whites rushing in, but also to preserve the lives of the Cheyenne people fading from the face of the earth.
“Where is Kale? I must go to him.” Emma wasn’t sure what she would tell him.
“He back on mountain. He check traps.” Sally’s eyes glistened.
“Thank you, Sally.” She scurried from the trading post and started for the fort entrance. When she reached Kale, she would beg him to let her stay in the cabin, even if she had to stay as his captive.
“Ma’am, you are not allowed to leave the fort,” a guard told her.
“I’m being held prisoner?” Emma narrowed her eyes.
“No. We want to keep you safe.”
“Like you kept me safe from Morgan the day he took me?” Her voice rang ferocious. Her fisted hands rested on her hips and she pursed her lips.
“You are not leaving this fort, Miss Donley. If you try, I will put you under arrest. Commander’s orders, ma’am.”
Emma tried to grasp the words. How could the fort hold her? She had done nothing wrong? She twirled and marched across the frozen compound to her house. Once inside, she paced the tiny confines. She glanced around. Nothing had been touched. Dust settled on every piece of furniture and in the fabric of bed linens and curtains.
With the water pail in hand, she headed out to the pump and filled it. Her weak arms protested, but she set it on the stove to heat the water, and pulled out the washtub and scrub board. With linens and curtains in hand, she walked to the front porch, shook the dust from them, and then added them to the washtub to scrub.
The more she scrubbed, the higher her anger flew at her new captors. She scrubbed the linens and curtains, catching her knuckles on the raised board as she pushed the material down to the water and raised it again for another round of washing. Her fingers squeezed and twisted the excess water and soap from the cloth, then threw them into the rinse water, splashing it to the floor.
The house had acquired a musty smell while she was gone. Anxiety settled over her. She would have to wait for warmer weather to air out the
smell. With a rope, she strung a line in front of the blazing fireplace to dry the linens. The curtains were replaced over the windows. She sat in the rocker and waited for Kale to come take her home. To his home, the home she wanted to share with him.
At the sound of the knock on the door, Emma jumped and ran to open it. Disappointment slid into anger at the officer on her front porch. “How can I help you?”
“I need you to come with me. The commander would like to see you again.” His voice was low and kind. Guilt eased its way into her soul. Her unkind words didn’t target this man; he was only the messenger.
“If he wants to talk to me, he should get off his posterior and make an effort to walk over here. Otherwise, I have nothing more to say to him.” The guard’s jaw drop and his eyes widened.
“Miss Donley, you are putting me in a most difficult position. I can’t go back and tell the commander you refuse to see him. He will have my hide.” His head lowered.