by Sadie Conall
5
He crouched under cover of the trees, searching the river, but there was no sign of Ella. If she had been here, she’d left already, or gone upriver to bathe.
Marrok glanced downstream. Unless she’d gone down there. But surely she wouldn’t have dared. For anyone could see the water swept away towards a waterfall, where it dropped over a hundred feet into a densely wooded valley below. Marrok knew it was here, as did Artie, but the waterfall was the reason why no wagon trains came here. They avoided this place because it was too dangerous, for any child could be easily swept over that ledge.
But if Ella came down here in the gloom of early morning, she might not have seen the waterfall. Although she would have heard the rush of water. But no-one on the wagon train ever ventured that far downriver for those who weren’t sick had kept upstream, close to the wagons.
Marrok moved to study the river bank, looking for Ella’s tracks in the damp earth when he caught a movement on the opposite bank through a thick stand of dogwood. He moved back under cover, all his instincts warning him that something was terribly wrong here. He wanted to believe it was some deer, something harmless, but he knew it wasn’t.
And then he almost swore aloud, for he saw it was a girl, no older than thirteen. She was moving silently through the trees but what turned Marrok’s blood to ice was seeing how she ran. Low and at a crouch, as though running from something, or trying to hide from something. And as Marrok watched her sprint through the woods, she suddenly turned and disappeared within the trees.
He knew she would be aware of the wagon train camped just a mile away, just as she would know that the muleskinners had left a short time ago. Yet who was she?
Marrok turned and ran back to his horse, fearing for Ella’s safety. But at least now he knew which way to go, for the girl had been running away from something downstream. He kicked his horse in that direction and as he made his way along the bank, he saw slight prints made from a woman’s shoe in the damp earth heading downriver. Marrok had no doubt that they belonged to Ella. Yet how far downstream had she gone?
He rode on, then came across the tracks of a wagon, pulled by oxen. Marrok dismounted and touched the tracks. They weren’t deep, which suggested an empty wagon had come through here. And then he found the warm scat left by the animals.
Marrok swore again. This was the eighth wagon missing when the muleskinners rode out earlier that morning one. For these tracks were fresh. And he suddenly cursed Ella for being so foolish. There were almost one hundred men travelling on the wagon train, with almost half of them being single. And camped just upriver, had been a group of muleskinners. Any one of them might take advantage of a woman bathing alone if they stumbled upon her, and it would be her word against theirs if an attack happened. And Ella would be judged for it, by bringing it on herself for going out alone, because that’s just the way it was.
Marrok rode on, following the tracks of the wagon and oxen. But as he rounded a bend, he heard the soft, desperate cry of a woman, followed by a man’s cruel laughter. He pushed his horse on through the trees and when he came out on the riverbank, he saw her at last.
*
She was in the river, struggling against the current as she tried to get to the opposite bank, even as the chemise she wore for modesty clung to her body, making her appear as though she were naked.
Marrok looked on in horror as he saw two naked men following her, the water up to their knees as they taunted her, their crude words telling Ella in no uncertain terms what they planned to do to her, as well as their plans to take her north, up to Lower Canada. Marrok recognized them. They were two of the muleskinners he’d met yesterday, the two men heading north to make their fortune.
He looked back at Ella. She was well past the middle of the river now, yet the current kept sweeping her up against the boulders and rocks, although mercifully, they also stopped her drifting downstream towards that waterfall. But even from here Marrok could see the cuts on her arms, along with unbridled terror in those lovely eyes. And he could also see she was getting tired. And once she stopped fighting, she was lost.
He dismounted and tethered his horse but as he looked back at the men, for the first time he saw the machete that one of the men carried, because he suddenly held it aloft, like a trophy.
Marrok knew no-one could fight against a weapon like that. It was like a shortened sword which some men called a buffalo knife, for it was commonly used to butcher buffalo.
Gripping the rope, he took off at a run, aware of those spiteful voices again, followed by laughter. And as he climbed a boulder, he began to make a loop and knot with his rope, his fingers shaking with urgency as he created a lasso, then he swung it out over the river towards the man closest to him. It fell about the man’s shoulders and as Marrok tugged viciously on it, it fell away to tighten around the man’s neck.
Marrok pulled again, causing the man to fall back into the water, his fingers clawing at the rope, even as he began to choke. His friend turned in surprise, then saw Marrok. He grunted with rage then rushed to help his friend, which gave Ella a few precious minutes to get away.
Marrok cursed himself for not bringing his shotgun as he pulled off his shirt and moccasins. And he thought for a moment of running back into the trees to try and find the wagon, along with any guns these men might carry. But he knew he didn’t have time. For they probably hid their guns in the bushes, near their clothes, which would leave Marrok no chance at all, let alone Ella.
So he reached for the knife held in the sheath at his waist, then entered the water, pulling again on the rope as the man holding the machete turned to cut it free, his frustration and rage turning him into a mad man. And that scream of rage made Ella turn.
She stared in astonishment as Marrok headed towards that deadly knife and she went to scream a warning, to stay back, only to hear her voice came out thin and reedy, her lungs on fire as she struggled to breathe. She watched as the men lunged at each other, their knives held out before them, the water up to their thighs.
“You want her too?” she heard the man snarl at Marrok. “I don’t think so. We saw her first. She comes with us to the north. You go on back now, let us have our fun.”
Ella stumbled back and felt the bank rise suddenly beneath her feet. She fell forward, crouching on her hands and knees in the water, watching in horror as the muleskinner slashed at Marrok. But he stepped away just in time before ducking down into a low crouch, even as the other muleskinner groaned, a low half-conscious gargle as he struggled hopelessly to free himself from the rope as the water washed over his face.
But Ella wasn’t watching him. She was watching Marrok. “Oh God, no,” she whispered, as that terrible knife thrust towards Marrok again.
But again Marrok reared back and as he did, he pulled with all his weight on the rope, pulling the other man up and out of the water just as that deadly machete slashed down low. The movement of the machete had the power of rage and hate behind it and even as the muleskinner swung it, even as he saw the arc of the blade heading towards his friend, he couldn’t stop the momentum and watched in horror as he sliced his friend a deadly blow beneath his jaw.
Marrok took advantage of the muleskinner’s grunts of disbelief and reached down and cut the rope, allowing the man to drift away. Then he wound the remains of the rope around his other hand, wrist and arm, in an attempt to protect himself against that machete.
“Damn you to hell!” the muleskinner raged, but as he lunged back with the machete, Marrok swept in low, bringing his knife up under the man’s arm. He felt the knife slice deep and when the machete swung back, there wasn’t a lot of power in it. But still, that sharp blade bit into Marrok’s shoulder.
He instinctively rolled away, pushing with his legs on the sandy river bottom as the muleskinner lunged towards him, seeing the blood pouring down Marrok’s shoulder. Marrok took another step away, seeing the blood lust in the man’s eyes and his low primal grunting as he lunged again, the buffalo knife
sweeping closer and closer when Marrok heard the swish of something pass mere inches from his face. And then a cry of pain. The muleskinner went down, splashing frantically in the water.
Marrok stared at him in bewilderment, then dared to glance back at Ella. She was still crouched at the water’s edge, but she was no longer looking at him. She was staring wide eyed at a youth standing not six feet away from her, an arrow to his bow. Marrok couldn’t know that it was the same youth who had come out of the woods earlier, but he watched as the boy put another arrow to his bow, another swish as the arrow flew through the air and into the other shoulder of the muleskinner, followed by another anguished cry. And a third arrow, this time into that fragile spot between the shoulder blades.
The muleskinner dropped the machete as he struggled to pull the arrows free, but his arms were useless. Marrok moved quickly to retrieve the weapon before it was lost, then pushed the man away, out into the current. The muleskinner groaned as he drifted towards the waterfall, then he was gone, death coming quickly before he went over the edge, following his friend.
Marrok turned to the boy and called out to him in that guttural dialect. The youth lowered his bow, just as a large group of men, twenty or more, came running out of the trees. They moved in silence, yet every one of them held a bow with a sheath of arrows on their backs.
Marrok hurried across to Ella, pushing through the current as one of the men called out to the youth in that same guttural dialect. Marrok heard the words, as the youth spoke rapidly, pointing at Ella then Marrok, then towards the waterfall.
Marrok reached out to touch Ella on her lower back, needing to know that she wasn’t hurt. She turned to him, her face so pale he was shocked, before she nodded towards the boy. “He saved your life.”
Marrok nodded, then pushed himself out of the water, feeling the painful wrench in his shoulder. He stepped up onto the bank and approached the youth. Ella heard them speak rapidly and then one of the men was talking to Marrok. And as she watched, Marrok turned back to the boy and grasped him by the forearm, thanking him, before handing him the buffalo knife.
Ella couldn’t move. She felt as if she were in a dream and soon she would wake, but when a group of women suddenly appeared, including a girl of about twelve, she knew it was no dream. And then a woman approached her and draped a blanket around her shoulders, covering her, before helping her to her feet. Ella tried to thank her, pulling the blanket close, aware of its warmth as she trembled violently. And then she saw Marrok talking to the young girl, who nodded, before pointing to Ella.
She noticed a few of the men carried shotguns in sheaths on their backs, while others carried old flintlock muskets. Yet Ella understood why they also carried bows and arrows. For these weapons killed in silence, without anyone knowing they were here.
Another man approached Marrok to look at the wound on his shoulder which was bleeding badly. Another conversation, then Marrok turned to her.
“They’ll help us. Please don’t argue about it or make a scene. Please just follow me.” He didn’t take her hand, but trusted her to follow him. And she did.
6
Ella sipped a herbal drink from a cup made of clay and watched as two women tended Marrok. He also drank something from a clay cup as the women applied a poultice to his wound before binding it with strips of rawhide. They worked efficiently yet in silence, aware of the men sitting in a circle close by, waiting to talk to Marrok.
When the dressing was done, Marrok got up and joined them while the two women joined Ella, where she sat with three young mothers, four teenage girls and two toddlers, both boys.
Three other woman offered the men some smoked meat along with fried bread before turning to Ella and offering her the same. She took it with gratitude, suddenly ravenous and ate it in silence while the women sat and talked around her. She understood nothing of the conversation, although she was aware of the men talking in anger, with an older man pointing upriver towards the wagon train.
She jumped with nerves as a woman reached over to gently prod her, before trying to communicate using her hands. Ella knew this was plains sign talk, for she had spoken of it with Marrok one night.
“There are many dialects between the Plains nations, so they communicate with hand signals. They call it plains sign talk. Children learn it when they’re just toddlers.”
The woman now touched her belly, swollen with pregnancy and then pointed at Ella, and then Marrok. Ella smiled, then shook her head. Although she couldn’t help but glance back at Marrok, who sat crosslegged in that circle of men, his wet buckskin pants clinging to him as her own chemise clung to her. She pulled the blanket closer, yet these people didn’t seem to notice she was undressed, not like the people on the wagon train would notice.
When the talking was done and the men stood up, they grasped Marrok by the forearms and again those guttural words. Then the women moved, packing away their belongings onto the six travois behind them, including leather bags, clay mugs and the buffalo robes they had been sitting on. Ella saw several teepees folded across those travois.
She gave the blanket back to the woman who had draped it around her shoulders, although Ella felt vulnerable without it, even though the chemise had dried. But she instinctively crossed her arms before her in a bid to cover herself.
As the family group mounted their horses ready to leave, Marrok walked towards her and Ella gaped at him, seeing for the first time how closely those damp buckskin pants hugged his long legs. He was as exposed as she was and now understood why the women smiled when they looked at him.
But if he were aware of it, Marrok didn’t seem to care and as the family group rode off, Ella had a moment of thinking how extraordinary this was. That they were here, that they had shared all this, yet they had remained invisible to everyone on the wagon train.
The Indians left nothing behind, except the scat of their horses. Otherwise no-one would know that a large group of people had camped here overnight. There were no fire pits, no shrill cries of farewell, for their being here had been one of secrecy, for they were well aware that several hundred people were camped on the other side of the river.
And two muleskinners lay dead at the bottom of a waterfall. The family wanted no trace of ever having been here.
*
Ella walked back through the woods behind Marrok, following him through the dense shrubs and undergrowth, aware of the power of his body, seeing the way he moved as he pushed branches aside and stepped lightly over debris on the ground. And if ever there was a time for her to trust a man, it was now. They were alone, no-one knew they were together and neither one of them wore much clothing.
She could feel the heat coming of him even though she walked some four feet behind him and when they came to the river, he moved to crouch behind some trees, urging her to do the same. But there was no-one around, despite it now being mid-morning.
“We can’t be seen like this, so you go on alone,” Marrok said softly. “I’ll stay here, just to make sure you get across the river safely.”
When Marrok turned to meet her gaze, at her hair long and loose which had dried in curls, her skin white as alabaster where her dress and shawl had stopped the sun tanning it, he felt his body stir with lust and knowing he was unable to hide it dressed the way he was, he turned away from her, wishing she would leave, for the temptation to take her in his arms was too much. But Ella wanted to know what happened. Who was that boy who’d saved his life? And how did Marrok know to come here?
“Jasper told me,” he answered, with some harshness in his words as he moved to kneel.
“Jasper?”
Marrok nodded and looked out across the water and up towards the wagon train. “I had the strangest feeling something wasn’t right when I woke this morning. And when I saw Jasper standing by your wagon, clearly distressed, he told me you’d come down here alone to bathe. So I came to find you. When I saw the girl running through the woods, that girl who was sitting next to you, I knew something was wr
ong. She was the boy’s sister, the one who killed the muleskinner. And you were lucky they saw you, for that family group planned to leave at dawn.”
Ella remembered the child sitting next to her, the girl who had silently watched her all morning. She wished she’d known it was her who had run to get help.
“I saw the boy before I saw the muleskinner,” she said softy. “He came down to the water’s edge and was pointing behind me, towards the trees, to warn me. I can’t believe he killed that man to save our lives. He was a child.”
“He was fourteen,” Marrok said, glancing at her.
“They’re gone,” she said, her voice breaking into a sob as she looked out towards the waterfall. “The muleskinners. They’ve gone over the waterfall.”
She covered her face with her hands and cried then, sobbing quietly. Marrok moved to put an arm around her, grimacing at the pain in his shoulder and Ella surprised him by leaning into him, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. And he didn’t feel lust then, but the desperate need to protect her.
She could smell his musky maleness along with the scent of herbs, packed into the wound beneath the hide dressings on his shoulder.
“At least there’ll be no trace of them. That family group will send some men back in the next few days, once the wagon train has gone, to dismantle the wagon and take the oxen. Both will be a tradeoff for the buffalo they’ve missed this year.”
“But what if someone comes looking for those muleskinners?” Ella said, wiping her face on the hem of her chemise.
Marrok shook his head. “No-one will. They had planned to head out this morning for Lower Canada. And the other group has gone, they left for Fort Hall around dawn.”
Ella shuddered, then turned to meet his gaze. “Who were they? That family group? What name do they go by?”
“Cheyenne. They’ve been out for weeks trading with other tribes and were on their way back to their village when they stopped here. They told me their tribe has been coming to this river for generations although they don’t linger here now, for they say other men camp here, men they don’t like, men like those muleskinners.” Marrok moved away from Ella to sit crosslegged, his naked upper body a thing of raw beauty as he stretched out.